"Trishamolson" <trishamolson@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20040523161435.09812.00000745@mb-m21.aol.com...
This is ridiculous and pathetic. I am talking to myself, but if anyone
wishes
to chime in feel free. I have been trying to work all day without much
success.
I look him up on goggle just like I do sometimes to see what he is
doing -- he
is all over the place on many different web pages given his high profile
with
his work. And damn't, something new comes up. He just received a stipend
from
the National Endowment for the Humanities.
F*cking I get so depressed at this kind of news. It is fine, I suppose.
So
what if he flies in the rarified air because he lept from my back. And I
do
not wish to compete. But every time I come across this kind of news about
him
(and it is often, he wins this or that, damn even his stupid baseball
statistics are on the web) I feel all withered, and small, and broken, and
crippled in mind and soul, and ugly, and failed, and . . .well one gets
the
idea.
My ex -- not meanly -- keeps telling me to accept being diminished, to
accept
having lost "it" all, accept that I can no longer be an academic star
(yes, my
sin is pride) and accept that John will soar in my field . . . I can't. I
can't because the man-child threw me against my file cabinets in my own
office.
I can't because he held me down shoved against a wall hissing at me "poor
little girl" as he slapped and slapped and would not stop hurting me. I
can't
because he abandoned me with child. . . I can't just accept.
It is all jumbled together, the past, the work, the questions in the work,
him,
my daughter, monsters and angels, suffering and God, all of it is one
tangled
mess in my mind.
When I was very very sick I was in a room with three doctors and one
theraphy
lady and my husband and suddenly I saw the crucifix on the doctor's wall
and
thought he might understand what was troubling my splintering mind . . .I
started to try to explain -- in gibberish because I could not speak
then --
about sacrifice, and Mother Mary, and John losing God, and saving a soul
slipping into evil --
Yes, I know, it sounds like romantic gibberish here, yes? Nothing like
mixing
God, lust, and contemplative thought, eh? The doctor told me point blank,
I
had one foot in utter madness. I no longer try to explain (what even I do
not
understand) to people. But when I see things like his award . . . it
makes me
very tired, and sad, and lonley, and tearful. I only mention these things
here
for it is, as I said, just a slip of a thought stuffed in a bottle cast
out on
the inter-net sea . . . .
I really need to get a life
Rosena
shouldn't you be packing and getting ready to move to your new 900 gabiilion
per year job
.
