They Caught him

I learned yesterday, the asshat who murdered my friend and her parents was captured. I broke out in tears of joy. I was worried they were not going to catch him.

Knowing he is caught does little to bring her back, or easy the hurt knowing I can never pick up the phone and call her again. But it does do something. I know he's not out there, getting away with it. I know he's not out there, enjoying his life. I know that there's not going to be that moment when he realizes so much time has passed that, even if he is still wanted, no one is really looking anymore.

He's caught. He's going to have to answer for the crimes. There is a peace, of sorts, in that.

Missing Dawn

Lately, all is seems I have talked about is death. That’s how my life feels too.

I bought a condo. I’m moved in (mostly) and I have a place of my own. I should be happy.

I have a great boyfriend, who loves me and tried his best to keep me happy. Lately he’s been working extra hard at that. I should be happy.

I have a great job, which works with me, and understands my life kind of sucks right now, emotionally. They have been great. And my boss gave me candy for xmas yesterday. I should be happy.

I should be happy.

So why is it I am not? Coming in to work today, it seemed everything was going wrong. I woke up with back pain (thank you 2011 car accident). I tried to get up, pain spasmed, and fell out of bed, whacking my knee. Joy, twice as much pain. I made a breakfast shake, couldn’t get it open. James tried to joke around and make me smile when I asked him to open it, but all I wanted was it open, so that pissed me off more. Finally get it open (we’re in the car now) and my seatbelt unbuckles itself. Apparently today it doesn’t want to stay clasped. All I can think is, great, the van wants me to die in a car accident. Fine, bring on the car accident.

I shouldn’t be this negative. But I am. Bulldog, our roommate told me I was grouchy this morning. I told him I’m having a bad day. James told me to turn it around. Like it’s ever that easy.

I got out of the car to go to work, and I kept thinking, this would be the perfect time for the universe to send me a sign. Something to tell me everything will be okay, and I’m still loved. Like a bird flying down to land in front of me.  Didn’t happen.  I kept expecting it to, right up until I got into the building. I was actually disappointed. Maybe that’s wrong of me. I mean, I don’t believe in the Christian god. I’m pagan. I have had some very powerful points in my life where I felt I connected to them. Maybe they gave up on me? Maybe they got tried of my pessimistic attitude. Or maybe there is no god-force and it was all my imagination to begin with. But I was expecting someone to step up and come through, and it didn’t happen.

I greeted the receptionist and security guard as I always do. Happy smile, cheerful voice, kind words. All forced, save the kindness. I can be kind while being depressed and ready to give up. I just have to force the smile and cheery feelings. I got on the elevator and I wanted to cry.

On the trip up, I realized I’m still missing Dawn. While we might not have talked much these last few years, because I got cut off from everyone during my marriage and I still haven’t gotten around to fixing that with everyone, I knew she was there. I knew I could pick up the phone and call her, or poke her on facebook and say hi, and we could pick back up where we left off.

Only now, we can’t.

Some asshole got pissed off her father wouldn’t let him be a drunk while working for him (my best guess given everything I have found out) and he shot them all in their sleep, and then burned their house down. Basically, he’s a spoiled 59 year old brat who never grew up, and threw a temper tantrum when he didn’t get his way, and now my friend is dead.

I think they call this survivor’s remorse, but I thought you kind of had to be part of the tragic event to get it. All I know, is I’m sitting her going, why not me? Dawn had a loving husband and 4 kids to look after. I’ve got a boyfriend and 3 cats. I’m sure it would suck for James, but the cats would get over it. Her kids aren’t going to. My life fairly well sucks to begin with, but hers was good. So why am I still here?

I don’t want anyone giving me that “God/Universe has great things planned for you, that’s why you’re still here.” They had their chance this morning with the pigeons and other birds readily available in this city, and they blew it. If they had something great planned for me, they’d have let me know it would be okay and I was still loved with a little feathered path crosser.

BLEW IT.

So no, I don’t believe that’s the case. James said something about the sunny beauty inside me this morning. How it was hiding and buried under the stress. That sun is about to die. I can feel the light and warmth flickering out as I type. I used to have so much hope. Now, I just have pain.

I miss Dawn.  It’s like I’ve lost most of the bright, happy stars in my life. I’m sure her husband and kids miss her way more than I do. This only makes the pain worse, because I know how much I miss her. I don’t know how they breathe with that kind of pain.

I keep thinking about the fun stuff we did together. They say you’re supposed to focus on the happy times with the people you have lost. I suppose you’re not supposed to focus on how you’re not going to make any new happy times with them, because they are gone. I suppose this exercise is also not supposed to make you look at your current life, and think how much it sucks now. Mine does. I look at all the fun and happy times I had with Dawn, and I realize I don’t have that feeling about life anymore. I don’t know where I lost it. I don’t think I can get it back.

Back then, I knew how to smile and mean it. Anymore, it’s always a fake smile. Something forced to make people around me think I’m doing fine. Back then, I had fun, and enjoyed doing things. Anymore, I fake it so that no one knows I hate going out, I hate hanging with friends, because I feel so depressed. There is no happy in my life. Holding my cats, I don’t focus on how happy they make me. I wonder if they will care when I die, and if I did die, if they would be okay. There is no happy in my life.

There is death. And death only mocks me because it comes for everyone around me, but not me. It’s like Death is saying “Oh, I know you’re there. But I’m enjoying your suffering, so I’m going to pick off people around you, so that you know I know you are there. But I’m not going to get you just yet. I want to watch you suffer.”

James would tell me “See, just have fun. Stop suffering and Death won’t enjoy it and he’ll stop messing with you.” Which in a round about way I suppose means if I want to die, I should enjoy life so that death gets mad and kills me. But it doesn’t work that way. It isn’t a switch I can flick on. I can’t just wake up and say “I’m going to enjoy life so hard today, that Death will get a sugar cavity!” I wish I could. When I get up, when I look at the world, I don’t see colors anymore. I see grays, and blacks. I don’t see happy smiles. I see pain and suffering. I don’t see love. I see heartbreak and heartache. I see what I see. I don’t know how to change it. I don’t think I can. I’m broken. My sky isn’t full of shooting stars and twinkling lights. It’s just black and dull. My morning isn’t brightly colored with pretty clouds. My morning is blood red and filled with screams of terror.

And I am tired of pretending it’s anything else.

Losing Uncle Pete, and Falling Stars

Seriously, this year can be over now. I’ve had it with all of this.

Yesterday, my horse died. Star was the last foal ever sired by King Plauditt, who was apparently a high up Appaloosa Stud. I had always wanted to get her bred, but never did. She was 30, according to my mother. She was 2 when we got her, and we’d had her 28 years.

I had always promised her we would be her forever home. I seem to have kept this promise. I am just sad I couldn’t say goodbye. I had been telling James just the other day that she was getting old, and she’d be gone soon. Maybe I knew. Maybe she knew.

She’s my Star, even though her pedigree says “Roman Plauditt Straw Gal” on it. She’s always been Star. She was my girl, and I will miss her.

But to make matters worse… While I expected my horse to die sooner or later, I didn’t expect that, on the same day, my great Uncle Pete would also pass away.  Two in one day, and I’m done. I’m still not over Dawn’s murder and now this?

Uncle Pete was always an odd one. I had Uncle who loved to hug you, who picked you up and smiled and laughed and joked. I remember Uncle Pete always being rather aloof. He’d sort of hug me. He never seemed very social when I was around him. But he was a good person. I knew this. And I will miss him.

2013 needs to GTFO without anyone else dying. I don’t think I can handle it.

Thanksgiving has nothing to be thankful for this year

I realize this is technically after thanksgiving. I spent this week moving into the new place. I should be happy. I’m not.

Today, as I was cleaning out the last of the crap from the apartment, I called my mother to talk to her. See, back on the 27^th, day before thanksgiving, there was a fire in my hometown. That small little everyone-knows-everyone-else place I still call home. I had seen to posts on Face book, but I didn’t have any idea whose house it was. It looked familiar, but no names had been released as to the owners, and honestly a house fire up there isn’t always something to be worried about. Everyone has a fireplace or a stove. Things happen.

But Thanksgiving and yesterday, the news went from a fire, to 3 people dead. The owner, his wife, and their adult daughter. Chances I knew them were very high, because you know everyone. Even if you aren’t friendly with them, you know who they are, and you all have mutual friends.

Then the news became ‘3 people shot to death’. This made my heart cry. Even if it was someone I “hated” in high school, I don’t want to hear anyone from my hometown has been shot to death.

So tonight, I talked to my mother, and she mentioned the last name of the family. Tuttle. God that was familiar. Didn’t I go to school with a Ryan Tuttle? (I did, but I think he was a Tuddle, not a Tuttle.) Then she said the names that made my blood run cold. “Reggie and Kim”.

There was only one “Reggie and Kim” I knew in Rye, and that happened to be the parents of my high school best Friend. Dawn McClure.

Mom, say it’s not so. That’s Dawn’s parents. That means, that was Dawn that was killed.

My heart twisted into my stomach and they both tried to cuddle together for comfort. The tears had already started. Somehow, I knew it was her. I got onto facebook… I had to find her page.  There it was, in that cold facebook black and white with a blue bordery background.  Everyone else had figured it out too. Dawn had been murdered.

I’m still in shock. She was my best friend since she started high school her freshman year. We went everywhere, did everything. We were in Choir together. We managed both the track and volleyball teams. We hung out after school.

She can’t be gone. Not like Val.

Val, by the way, was a friend Dawn and I had. Valerie Jean Irene Allee. She worked with me at Columbia House when they were in Colorado City. All of us had hit it off and we were the three musketeers. Val called us her little sisters. She was killed in a car accident when she was 29. Dawn named her first born girl after Valerie.

Now Dawn’s gone too. And murdered? Why? By who?

I’m going to find out.

And if I find him, I might just kill him.

I realize that’s a dangerous thing to say on the internet. I could probably get into trouble for it. But I feel it. I feel it inside. The rage, the anger, the pain. If I find him, I’m probably going to see red, snap and choke the shit out of him with my bare hands. Or beat him. Which would be a feat, since I can’t fight for shit. But I’ll learn, on him. I’ve a feeling that if I were placed in that situation, I’d learn really quick how to hit someone.

I can’t believe she’s gone. It isn’t right.

Bought a Condo!

Okay, so I’m financially strapped. You might wonder why I am buying a condo then. Because right now, I can get a 2 bedroom, 2 bath for less a month than I’m paying on this little apartment.

Technically, it’s more a month, but that’s only including the HOA. Which our Roommate is going to cover as his part of the rent. So James and I have the mortgage, which is about $150 less than the apartment. And since it’s a 2 bed, the roommate doesn’t have to sleep on the sofa. He gets his own room. I’m doing this to try and have a little extra money to throw at the lawyer fees Miles saddled me with. So really it is his fault I’m buying a condo. I didn’t want to do this, but with rent prices going up, and me needing to save every penny I have, the cheaper option was to buy.


I should mention, I am terrified. I haven’t really ever owned a house. Even when I was married, I wasn’t working, so I didn’t feel I owned a house. Apparently I was right, because he took it in the divorce. In any case, back then, I felt it was just a home we were renting from someone nice enough to let us change things around the place, as long as they were for the better.

I’ve tried looking at it that way again, but I think my mind has learned to work passed that trick. Because it is my name on the documents. Just me. It will be my place. And I’m terrified.

I can hear my Gramma in the back of my head trying to tell me I will be fine. Women can do this thing without a man involved. I’m so 1950s sometimes. I understand it’s a great move. Even being cheaper than renting, house prices are looking like they will go up. This condo was bought for 120k by the previous owner. She’s selling for 95k. She’s taken a hit. But with prices going up, in 5 years it could be back to the 120k. It’s a smart move to buy now. I’m saving money and looking at profit in the future.

I just know my luck usually isn’t that great. I’m waiting for something to go wrong. I don’t know what, but I am waiting.

This place does have a higher HOA fee than what I wanted, but it covers some decent things. And when I went to look at it, I made some crack about purple walls, and the master bedroom has purple walls. I think it’s kind of fate.


We close the 26th. So nervous!

Goodbye, Gramma

So earlier this month, my Grandmother died. It was the first time I’ve ever used time off work for a death in the family. I was really glad I had it, because she was my last living grandparent. It kind of brought back all the others. Plus she was a really cool lady, and it sucks knowing she won’t be around any more.

My father’s mother died when I was 3. I barely remember her. My Grandfather remarried, when I was young but I don’t remember how young. 7? Maybe somewhere around there. He introduced us to her, we got to meet her a few times, and I remember when he said he was going to marry her, he asked me if that was okay. I looked at her and asked “Does that mean I can call you Gramma now?” That was all I cared about back then. I knew she was a wonderful lady then. When my grandfather died, she told me she would always be my grandma. She said you don’t ever give up grandkids. And she stuck by it. She remarried when I was in High school. I remember her asking me if it was okay. I told her if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. Grandpa would want you happy, and so do I. And he did, at the time. Later she talked to me about divorcing him. She said she used to think if you married someone, you stuck it out, for better or worse. But this was more than she could handle. I told her she deserves to be happy, and if he isn’t making her happy, then she needed to kick him to the curb. Maybe there was a reason I never called him Grandpa, no matter how much he wanted me to. He was always Jim. Now he will be Jim, who treated my Gramma like crap, Jim.

She asked me several times about divorcing him, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think she saw her pain in me, with my marriage. She kept telling me, it was okay to give up on a marriage if he was abusive, and that didn’t mean he had to hit her. Or me, sub textually. I kept telling her she deserved to be happy, and I think she was waiting for the light to go off in my head that, so did I. One of the last times before she finally divorced him, she told me I should be happy too. I still didn’t make the connection then.

I didn’t make it out for the funeral. I’m too broke to go down the street, let alone several states away. But I think she would understand. She taught me a lot about being strong, and being myself. Even if the lessons didn’t sink in right away. They are there. They will always be there.

And so will she.

Goodbye, Gramma Helen. I hope you know how much I love you.

Rising from the Ash

It never fails. The Phoenix rises, lives, dies, and then is reborn and rises again.

There is a reason she is my totem, my center, my avatar.


So much has happened since the last time I posted. If you read this, then let me just give a soft, brief rundown.

I got divorced. It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact my husband was an emotional abuser, but once I did (with the help of some great friends) it became clear that he had no desire to change, and I had no desire to stay in that kind of a relationship. Despite always saying we would do things on friendly terms and remain friends, he made it a very difficult divorce. He kept the house, but I kept my sanity, pride, self-esteem, and my cat. I think I won, if there can be a win.

I moved out, found an apartment and moved in with a friend. We supported each other because it seemed when one of us had a job the other did not. Back and forth we went.

Then, at New Years, 2013, we decided to start dating. He's a great guy, and maybe some would consider it too soon or a rebound, but we really understand each other. He's playing BioShock2 as I write this, because he knows I like the story and suck at playing these kind of games. And he's supportive. And not abusive.

I recently started working at a permanent job. Not a temp anymore. This job is something I would never have thought I could do, and I still get nervous, but I take it one day at a time.  I've been doing well so far, and seem to be impressing my boss. I hope this is my 'forever job' because I really do like it. If I can learn what I need to be stellar at this job, and keep it for a long time, I think I could get into the life I always invisioned for myself.

There is a lot on the horizon. I can feel it. I can only hope it is good.