On Escaping the House

I escaped the house and ended up at Starbucks (don’t even say anything Brad). I don’t usually go here, but it was empty and I figured I could find a seat. Seriously dude, they fucking want $10.00 a day for Internet access...WTF????

OK, so I can pick up the signal from the free access at Safeway across the street, but it’s too weak to do anything. So here I sit with just the word processor and me.

So you can guess I won’t be back here again.

Anyway, I just left my house. I have the Barbie Jeep in the back of my Tahoe, and now I have to go back to Walmart to get the food for Little Misses Shindig tomorrow. I just couldn’t do both together because I just needed some time to chill away from the kids, and I didn’t want to leave food in the car that long.

Anyway, I’m digressing.

I’m afraid it’s becoming obvious that something is going on with me. Hubby just looked at me when I left, and didn’t really say much when I told him that if I wasn’t back before dinner to just cook the kids dinner without me. He didn’t ask me where I was going.

Why doesn’t he ask? Maybe he knows? Maybe he doesn’t want to know??

I guess there is a part of me that still wants him to care, but the not asking thing is pretty much a sign I guess.

This feels weird. I haven’t hung out in a coffee house in a million years. Not since I lived in SF anyway. I just had to put my ipod on to drown out the useless mutterings of the employees in here.

My favorite place in SF was a place I don’t even remember the name of now. It was on Balboa. It had old ratty couches, old dark wooden chairs and very colorful paintings on the walls. When you walked in the place you could “SMELL” the coffee, you could have walked in there blind, and known it was a coffee place. They served the coffee in glass beer steins. Live music by funky artists at night and old men playing checkers. They made killer Greek salads.

Lots and lots of Russian being spoken, enough that I could pretty much tune everything out. I used to go across town to get to “my” place. I lived in the outer Sunset, this place was in the Richmond.

I had an old borrowed Apple laptop then. Black and white screen. iPods hadn’t been invented yet, so it was either my Disk-man or nothing. Do you remember having to carry around a bazillion CD’s and batteries?? And I thought I was the shit, but then, who cares? I’d go in there, and I’d write poetry. Most of it is now lost on floppy disks unknown. It was good though. I had my best friend who is a writer, critique it, and I’d work and rework it until it was perfect. Technology has come so far, but my feelings have not.

So now I sit in a Starbucks that was not even here then, I’m sure there were no coffee houses in Montana then. I sit here on my kickass Macbook, my red iPod playing my playlist “The Girls 4”, ignoring all the bimbo’s in here.

What I wouldn’t give to hear all that Russian that I was unable to understand. I think I must have had some sort of connection with the Russians. I worked for them, I hung out in their hang outs, I couldn’t understand their language, but I felt so peaceful listening to it.

The women I used to work for, Alla and Galina, they were always dressed to the 9’s. I’d They pretty much took me in, and I’d go out with them sometimes at night. It always amazed me how much Russian women dressed up. I mean REALLY dressed up, like fashion models. Make up perfect, hair perfect, and very expensive perfume. (Stacy and Clinton would have no reason to visit them). This was for everything. Work, working around the house, and especially going out.

I am having a missing the city day today. I can’t quit thinking about it. The life, the hustle and bustle. The dirty streets full of street people and Chinese food smells.

I don’t think this transition is going to be as smooth as I thought it would be. I don’t think I can hang like this forever anymore. It’s like once the storm started, it won’t stop, can’t be stopped. I really don’t want to upset my life, but it is becoming increasing clear to me, I may not have a choice. That life is interrupting me in every sense of the word.

I feel panicky thinking of spending the rest of my life like this, and I feel panicky thinking of not spending the rest of my life like this.

I finally, financially have everything I’ve ever wanted. A house, a car I love, ATV’s, an RV...enough money to pay the bills and feed my kids. My kids...but..but...but....

I don’t have me. I’m disappearing, vanishing. I am starting to realize my basic unhappiness has to be showing on my face, in my body language, and lack of interest in my husband.

I have to get strong. Be strong. A year ago, I thought I’d be able to live like this, now I’m sure I won’t be able to. What I’m not sure of is the timing. The actual “how to” of getting out. Of keeping my kids in a good place, and at the same time, allowing myself to come out.

OK....enough blubbering, I need to go back to Walmart, or maybe I’ll just go to Safeway, don’t think I can bear Walmart.