It's past my bedtime, but I'm all emotional thanks to The Glass Castle, this crazy memoir about this crazy family. Shannon recommended it and I do too, as it is the most readable book ever. Pure insanity that is also, oddly, full of heart. There is so much insanity that it's amazing there is room for anything else. And this book is the perfect example of how utterly useless covers- and especially the blurbs on the back of books- are in conveying what you will actually get out of them. Even the reviews are limp and sappy- nowhere close to the bite this book gives.
But this book and me on the verge of an exercise routine that right now has the potential of A Sunnier Outlook, Less Stress, and More Energy, according to Better Homes & Gardens (Why the hell do I keep getting this magazine?), or it could fall flat and I will have bought yoga pants for nothing. I had a Diet Coke too late and crap for dinner because dog class was over and I couldn't imagine cooking or eating another sandwich. I couldn't figure out what I wanted and ended up with something that felt bad even as I ate it. I am out of vegetables and will need to find some tomorrow. Lately I've been willing to recognize accomplishments, though, and see that I am now the kind of person who feels a lack of vegetables. That is progress! Also, even as I was not enjoying my dinner, I thought about Mondays and dog class and how hungry I was and that I could prepare for that. It was much more helpful than a Jenny bashing party.
I do feel like having a Chris bashing party. I am so mad about what he did. I am mad that he's keeping me tied with these fucking bills and that much of the behavior he enjoys from his dog and his son came from a lot of hard work that he did not do. I miss Jasmine: the cuddler. Most nights I curled up with that dog because my boyfriend was working or fucking some stupid bitch, or both. I'm mad about the two of those beautiful houses that were treated so carelessly. I'd be mad about Ant except I think he's smarter than his dad, and I know that he'll be fine as long as he can resist the overwhelming urge to look cool and just be his awesome, friendly, funny self. I'm mad that I am restrained by his stupid purchases- that he manages to keep a yoke on me even after his reign of absolute destruction, and I get to be just in touch enough to hear about the fallout from the idiot decisions that he can so freely make. I want to publish my blog and make enough money to pay off that debt myself and tell him to shove that board up his ass. Same with all of his disgusting whores. Shove them up your ass, too. You're all really horrible people.
I see now why people turn to Zen, because there just isn't anything else you can do but accept. I know that I will not be the one to deliver their karma, but I can't help but wish that I could assist, or at least witness. I know I can't heal my heart until I know every bit of its hurt. I have to get to know this pain until I can know and stand it all. It's coming along slowly, like how you stretch out that sharp pain in your chest with shallow, then deeper, then deeper breaths.
Fuck you, Chris, I'll get there anyway.
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