Chapter Three
It can be wonderful to find out at an early age that you are crazy. It allowed me to get on with my life. So, everyone has their shit plate. One can either choose to eat it, wallow in it, or ignore it. I chose to eat the shit on my plate and at the same time I refused to let it make me nauseous forever.
I miss thick air that you can feel when you breath. I wish I could lay in a hammock on a hot, humid summer day and take a nap. I sometimes wish I could stay on that hammock for the rest of my life in that dream state of mind. I would love to be left alone. I would love to live in my dreams.
I am trying, I am trying very, very hard to get on with my life. I feel that I have a God given right to be happy and unfortunately, I cannot be happy in my home country. I had to leave to be free.
I saw a better psychologist when I was twenty three. I had just moved to Los Angeles to become a famous actress and I wanted some kind of validation that I was doing okay. This magnificent man told me that I was indeed crazy. He said that everyone has craziness inside of them and I needed to embrace mine and wallow in it. I needed to roll around and wallow in my shit instead of eating it. I was like a pig in slop wallowing in my craziness. I believed him when he said everyone is crazy, everyone is insecure. He said that it is what one decided to do with it that makes the difference in one's life. He asked what I wanted and I said, "I want happiness". That is when I became full of my shit and danced in the joy of it.
Everyone is crazy and insecure. For the first time in my life, I thought I was normal. My trees are green, my sky is white, my world is purple.
I have loved many men but I never much liked them. I always wished I had had a brother so that I could see another, more likeable side to males. Perhaps I am full of myself, perhaps it is not really true, but I always felt that men liked me much more than I liked them. It gave me a sense of power. I could wrap them in my little web of love intoxication and I could stomp on their heart when the timing was perfect and least expected.
If people want to play the game of pretending that things are different than what they really are, well, bring it on. I am the champion of that shit.
Stomping on men's hearts was never really fulfilling so I decided to knock it off when I was about thirty five. If I really did want to get married and have children, that was definitely not the way to go about it. Los Angeles wasn't the place to meet the marrying kind so I moved back to the low country of South Carolina. I was welcomed with open arms and there were so many amazing things that I enjoyed about the land but not much that I enjoyed about the people. I had no girlfriends, where in L.A., I had a ton of friends. I went on two blind dates in two years and I found both men to be weak and shallow. Clearly, this was not working either. Shit follows you.
I met a wonderful solid Yankee man when I was back in L.A. visiting my friends and we were married within the year of our first date. He is strong, magnificent, brilliant, brave and honest. Everything makes sense with him. I have never had to go "huh?" about anything he has done or said. He is incredibly secure and he is my granite. He picks me up when I fall, he is my pillar when I start to lean. He gets me. He adores me. He is not frightened of me. My husband is neither handsome nor sexy and that is just fine with me, he makes up for it in so many other ways.
Another little secret that I will tell you is how much true southerners hate Yankees. It is whispered in living rooms of like minded individuals. Southerners move out of certain neighborhoods when too many Yankees start to move there. Southerners have a knack for knowing where the people in the car ahead of you are from because I have heard hundreds of times about the Yankee driver in the other vehicle.
Yep, I'll tell you some shit now, I will, I will and don't you even try to stop me or tell me it isn't so.
It doesn't matter if you don't believe me. Southerners dislike Yankees and they feel superior to colored folks. Personally, I saw my family love and respect more black people than Yankees. Imagine the horror when I brought one of those home.
Southerners hang on to their heritage, Northerners have moved on, the Civil War is over.
My husband thought it would be funny to get a t-shirt made for a big engagement party my mother was throwing for all of the relatives to meet him, he wanted to have in big, black letters on a white t-shirt -
ULYSSES S. GRANT KICKS ASS!!!
I was sooo tempted to encourage him to do it.
My husband behaved at the party and it was all politely boring.
Mama's Pot Roast
Ingredients: 2-3 pounds of pot roast
Lipton Dry Soup Mix
Carrots and Potatoes
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Wrap meat in foil and put dry soup all over the top of the meat. Cook for 2 1/2 hours. Add carrots and potatoes one hour before done.
I miss thick air that you can feel when you breath. I wish I could lay in a hammock on a hot, humid summer day and take a nap. I sometimes wish I could stay on that hammock for the rest of my life in that dream state of mind. I would love to be left alone. I would love to live in my dreams.
I am trying, I am trying very, very hard to get on with my life. I feel that I have a God given right to be happy and unfortunately, I cannot be happy in my home country. I had to leave to be free.
I saw a better psychologist when I was twenty three. I had just moved to Los Angeles to become a famous actress and I wanted some kind of validation that I was doing okay. This magnificent man told me that I was indeed crazy. He said that everyone has craziness inside of them and I needed to embrace mine and wallow in it. I needed to roll around and wallow in my shit instead of eating it. I was like a pig in slop wallowing in my craziness. I believed him when he said everyone is crazy, everyone is insecure. He said that it is what one decided to do with it that makes the difference in one's life. He asked what I wanted and I said, "I want happiness". That is when I became full of my shit and danced in the joy of it.
Everyone is crazy and insecure. For the first time in my life, I thought I was normal. My trees are green, my sky is white, my world is purple.
I have loved many men but I never much liked them. I always wished I had had a brother so that I could see another, more likeable side to males. Perhaps I am full of myself, perhaps it is not really true, but I always felt that men liked me much more than I liked them. It gave me a sense of power. I could wrap them in my little web of love intoxication and I could stomp on their heart when the timing was perfect and least expected.
If people want to play the game of pretending that things are different than what they really are, well, bring it on. I am the champion of that shit.
Stomping on men's hearts was never really fulfilling so I decided to knock it off when I was about thirty five. If I really did want to get married and have children, that was definitely not the way to go about it. Los Angeles wasn't the place to meet the marrying kind so I moved back to the low country of South Carolina. I was welcomed with open arms and there were so many amazing things that I enjoyed about the land but not much that I enjoyed about the people. I had no girlfriends, where in L.A., I had a ton of friends. I went on two blind dates in two years and I found both men to be weak and shallow. Clearly, this was not working either. Shit follows you.
I met a wonderful solid Yankee man when I was back in L.A. visiting my friends and we were married within the year of our first date. He is strong, magnificent, brilliant, brave and honest. Everything makes sense with him. I have never had to go "huh?" about anything he has done or said. He is incredibly secure and he is my granite. He picks me up when I fall, he is my pillar when I start to lean. He gets me. He adores me. He is not frightened of me. My husband is neither handsome nor sexy and that is just fine with me, he makes up for it in so many other ways.
Another little secret that I will tell you is how much true southerners hate Yankees. It is whispered in living rooms of like minded individuals. Southerners move out of certain neighborhoods when too many Yankees start to move there. Southerners have a knack for knowing where the people in the car ahead of you are from because I have heard hundreds of times about the Yankee driver in the other vehicle.
Yep, I'll tell you some shit now, I will, I will and don't you even try to stop me or tell me it isn't so.
It doesn't matter if you don't believe me. Southerners dislike Yankees and they feel superior to colored folks. Personally, I saw my family love and respect more black people than Yankees. Imagine the horror when I brought one of those home.
Southerners hang on to their heritage, Northerners have moved on, the Civil War is over.
My husband thought it would be funny to get a t-shirt made for a big engagement party my mother was throwing for all of the relatives to meet him, he wanted to have in big, black letters on a white t-shirt -
ULYSSES S. GRANT KICKS ASS!!!
I was sooo tempted to encourage him to do it.
My husband behaved at the party and it was all politely boring.
Mama's Pot Roast
Ingredients: 2-3 pounds of pot roast
Lipton Dry Soup Mix
Carrots and Potatoes
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Wrap meat in foil and put dry soup all over the top of the meat. Cook for 2 1/2 hours. Add carrots and potatoes one hour before done.
1 Comments:
At 2:20 PM,
Anonymous said…
Goddamn woman, you're giving me a hard on. I always did like crazy women.
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