lap swam

so yesterday, i jet out after my kid calls. a stalker must take a break eventually, and i race to the pool. i only have an hour tops, so we get in and she has these diving toys, the way it works is, we usually swim laps until i warm up (i can't keep the body temp lately, go figure, which bodes well for the decreasing layer of insulating fat).

so i toss these things out seemingly at random, and we race for them. back and forth down the length of the pool. i toss them out in front of us all the way across the pool and so we go racing to get them. i start out getting them all because i can swim the side breadth of the pool with one breath, and she has to come up. so i do a clean sweep, and she races faster each successive time with me getting fewer and fewer.

i don't "let" her win, i genuinely race her, but it pleases me to see how fast she's swimming now. while we're not masters of form, we are dragging our asses back and forth across the pool for hours on end. this is good news. particularly since she is of the ds generation, and doesn't do shit. (maybe that is what ds stands for ;)

i don't either, dont' get me wrong. aside from standing and manual labor at my job, i really am a slug. i admit it.

so, sometimes we clock each other, she in retaliation, me, because i've six arms flailing through the water. note: don't swim too near a six armed woman unless you want to get clocked.

and sometimes, i come up under her, because i swim deep in the pool, right at the bottom (it's only about four feet deep, so it's not that deep), but i like to brush the bottom of the pool, and drive my arms through, it's very zen for me.

and i will come up and tickle her belly and i can hear her under water giggle really loud. it's very cute.

she's such a girl.

so occassionally, i tickle, she giggles, and we swim on. she gets mad at me, and i throw the toys out again. we get over it, i figure, exercise is more than a good way to burn off excess energy, anger, angst, what have you, it's just good clean fun.

the water has been particularly nice of late because summer finally hit here and it feels like hell opened up and we're living in it.

but ah, that is my penchant for the dramatic.

to the pool for three hours, then i climb out of the water, put on my work clothes and go to work all chloriney. it's rather nice, i probably stank, but whatever. at least i'm cool and refreshed. if not rested.

that, it seems is for another time. another life.

and arizona calls. i must buy my ticket so i go. so i make myself take this path and enjoy. playing with adults for three days, can't wait.

so fight.

i had begun to question a lot of things about my life, namely, why every damn thing is a battle for me.

i asked her, after she inquired why things were the way they were.

i asked her if my power is derivative.

.

you empower others. yours is not derivative.

why is everything a battle?

because it's who you are. be difficult. it's okay.

and i cried. she tapped my waters again.

i love her and she knows it. that's good. it is, perhaps, the most important part of me, that people know when i love them. i do not hide it. i do not feign it. it just is. when i love someone they get my unwaving allegiance.

we love whom we love,

i said to him. because i think he was trying to dissuade me. to stifle my enthusiasm. but it cannot be dampened. it is what it is. i no more control it than i can control myself around him.

i take liberties. that is what i do. i really try not to, but before i know it, i've got my foot creeping up his shorts again, and he's trying to digest. it is what it is.

i begin to wonder, is taking liberties what we all do?

who knows. perhaps it's just the ballast for my fight, my l'amour. my sensuality.

come in closer so the battle arms don't take you out, it's safe here, where you can hear my heart beat.

because that is all that matters to me.

and she said to me,

be who you are.

.

and i said,

yes.

derivative

as i flail about my life, six arms swinging, swaying, mesmerizing, i find that i do alot of battle. i'm not sure if this is common in other people's lives or peculiar to mine. the many wars of suzanne rae deshchidn, or something like.

and yesterday, before it got real bad, i went by my store and found the place had rallied around me, and championed me to the boss who found out how i was hounded last week.

she called me an asshole (which was a lie)

and my boss said,

so were you?

which i found funny, particularly if it were true. but even in untruth still amuses me.

i rise to champion those who need me whenever i can. in whatever way i can. it is what we do for each other. part of the calling, i guess. you don't befriend a six armed woman unless you need someone to cover your back.

i don't care about everyone,

i told her.

just a few people. the rest of them can go fuck themselves.

this is how i see it. i can only rally for my clan. those who stumble into my inner circle. those who find their way into my heart.

but i'm tired of fighting. i need a break. yet, am not sure if it's how i'm wired. does the warrior get a break? is he not ever defending against intrusion?

who am i to think this is my role.

i feel brave around her,

i said.

i wonder if my power is derivative.

that is the question i ponder. i do need people. not masses of faceless throngs, but the few, the ones i love, who love me as they can. those people keep me alive. make my stay on this planet interesting, to say the least.

i am not easy to be around, i understand this. particularly since i'm always ready to strike. to defend.

but then, there are those who hear me cooing in my sheets. who find the quiet gentle arms (there are a couple), and manage to get in close enough that the other four don't take them out.

my power then, is not derivative. it is, simply, mine.

will this be scary?

it was, perhaps, the strangest conversation i've had of late. and some pretty weird shit happens to me on a regular basis.

but i ran into the ex at the library. he was looking through videos, and i picked one up, instead of dodging out of his sightline, i held up a flick and asked,

will this be scary?

maybe. who's it by?

it wasn't a full blown, hello how are you conversation by any stretch of the imagination. it was just, a, you know me, tell me if i'll like this kind of cut to the chase conversation.

i asked another question, without looking at him, then walked away.

it was strange. strained. but what can you expect. it's been over six months now. nearly eight.

every day i'm glad i did it. i made the right decision, it just complicates things so much.

ease has never been my wish. i just want peace. p.e.a.c.e. whatever that means, however that looks. for all my people, for those i love and have loved. i have no ill will toward any of them.

i only hope they know it. that someday they will come to understand.
we do the best we can.

why such compassion

you have not been out in the sun,

i said
for he looked faded to me. i, the darker, which was unusual. sadness locks him away, but i hardly think it sadness over me. it is merely sadness.

we will try to be reasonable, and come to terms on our own.

but i wonder if i will ever be comfortable with this attempt to resolve what eludes us. to find peace where none has ever really been.

but for her, we struggle together to make amends.

to come to some agreement we can both, as her parents, live with. live by.

i do not want to be unreasonable. but neither do i want to be gullible.

at work, the jerk had a family crisis today, and while i did not utter a word to him before he said hello to me, i did reply. because i have no stake in being cruel.

i will respond in kindness if kindness is given.

it is when you are a jerk, you will bring out the bitch in me.

and tomorrow is another day. who knows what it holds.

i've lingered here, restful. grateful for a good day.

and sleep beckons me. i look forward to this weekend, to three days of being able to rest.

wrong bitch, wrong day.

so, i get the slacker talk today because i sit down for a ten minute break, which i'm due, btw. and i'm not even alone. i'm with a customer, trying to be cordial. so, it's not like i was even getting a ten. sigh.

then, the guy in charge, or supposedly in charge, starts trying to intimidate me.

wrong bitch, wrong day dude.

i don't back down and he says,

this is a waste of time.

sure, but everyone wastes time, why is it such an issue when i do it.

literally, seven hours into my eight and half hour day, i finally get my lunch. there simply was no time before that. and this guy is calling me ME of all people a slacker.

unfuckingbelievable.

and i'm getting shit for being the heavy and doing my job when i had to. love it. love working with kids. it's a piss and moan festival, there is no real reason or logic to any of it. basically, the person who gets the most people to dog pile the one on the right side (or perceived wrong side is probably more accurate), wins.

trouble is, six armed woman don't go down without a fight.

and, kids, be forewarned. she ain't goin' down at all.

they don't know how strong i am.

they have no idea.

slowwwww

i finished my packet, i just had about ten pages to write, which, for me, is no big deal. it was the analytical bullshit. i cranked it out in about two hours, while playing vampire wars (unfortunately, i'm hooked kids), and bullshitting on facebook.

now, i'm going to stay in bed the rest of the day. i contemplated going to the gym. to the pool. but bed sounds best. i'm tired of saying how tired i am, so i'll try not to lament the lack of pizzaz in my step, the lack of vim in my vigor anymore. it just is what it is.

had a conversation, slightly disconcerting with the pussycat yesterday who is an overinformer just like me. i went in about forty five minutes early yesterday just to talk to him because he soothes me somehow. i don't know. anyway, i kept following him around and continuing the conversation as he was preparing to leave, and he ultimately said something shocking but i took it in stride because a. i've been married and know how men really are. b. i'm not shockable.

so he said,

i'm just lazy.

no you're not. you're tired. if you were lazy you wouldn't want to work one job, you have three.

see, i've been hearing this guy is lazy from him, from everyone. but i don't see it. i understand tired. tired i get. but lazy is a different breed altogether. he finally saw my point and said,

you're right.

which always makes a girl happy. tell them they are right, but mean it.

so i'm off today, having just finished my paper, my mental load is now nil. i am not inclined to even get out of bed, i am lying here typing on my belly. won't even bask in the sun today. i'll just stay in and drift in and out of consciousness. if nothing else, it's good for the writing. and since i just submitted almost every last new piece of writing i have, i better get to it.

alpha time baby, here we come.