“Summertime and the living’s easy…”

Music explains so much more than mere words can. Can’t take it too literally, but you mold a song into your own interpretation. Maybe linked to the first time you remember hearing it or maybe you comprehend yourself as similar in a way to the singer or the one sang about.  Doesn’t matter since we can’t see into one another’s minds to view how it takes shapes. We can’t help but perceive a song in our own unique way, and that’s an amazing fact of life.

To me, the part that resonates deeply and has since my late teen years, both in and out of relationships, is:

…  Evil. Come to tell you that she’s evil. Most definitely.

Evil. Ornery, scandalous, and evil. Most definitely.

The tension is getting harder. I’d like to hold her head under water.

Me and my girl, we got a relationship. Mmmhmmm, my girl, we got a relationship. …

… Summertime, and the living’s easy …

Those lyrics have always left me a little sad and disturbed. It’s one interpretation of events, and I won’t claim to know what all was actually going on between Bradley and his wife back then. That’s their business. But we all interpret it as we will at any given point in time. Our understandings of things, hopefully, evolve over time. Personal example time…

But first on to another great tune:

When I decided to marry my (since 2004 ex-)husband, we felt very much in love. We were also very young (18 and 19). Married after dating for 20 months. Ate each other up. Transitioned and transitioned, as to be expected of young people. Both made mistakes, and both had shit working against us throughout that time. Stressful times. We were financially fucked up right out the gate. Then we turned on one another. Got nasty. After 4 years of being together, we split up and never saw one another again. Completely quit talking for years too. Divorced without direct communication (and I paid for it through a paralegal service — cost about $750 — he refused to sign the document drafted because it included debts he personally borrowed from my grandparents, which he wound up never repaying even a cent of — seriously uncool).

I was mad as hell at him for a long time about that and more. Together we drowned in debt and made stupid decisions and basically wound up driving one another nuts like stir-crazy cats. Just screwed that whole thing up. For a long time I talked about him like he was a dick. Until it began creeping into my conscious thoughts more and more how I’d messed up too, and significantly. After several years of silence between us, I reached out to him on facebook (back when I was on there) and got his phone number. Gave him a call and spoke my truth about what I had done, saying nothing about his possible blame. I did this because my own conscience was killing me — we had wronged one another, but I had been responsible for a number of severe wrongs my own self, and I only have control over myself. So that’s where it stemmed from, and he accepted my gesture in the hippyish-sort of way he’d became since we’d separated.

Sometimes it still bugs me a little that he didn’t feel the desire to apologize for his part, but ah well. He did grant me forgiveness and claimed he’d never held a grudge, though I know that isn’t true. He told me of a genuinely good woman he’d dated after me and how his bitterness toward me wound up jeopardizing their relationship. He admitted he mistreated her. My role in that saddened and troubled me.

A year went by before I called him again, this time to report the unfortunate news of my Papa’s passing. They didn’t get along too well, but they had heart for one another, sorta, kinda. So I let him know, and he expressed his condolences. If there’s one thing true it’s that my Papa is an unforgettable character, known best for being a cantankerous asshole.  lol

The point is my ex-husband and I went from love and utter fascination with one another, bonding like orphans over our life experiences, to increasing competitiveness, to outright hostility and aggressive power plays, to disgust and contempt, to silence, and then eventually to accepting the past for what it is and burying the hatchet. And I am forever glad that we did and that I took the opportunity to apologize for the pain that I caused during our short marriage. My conscience definitely did need that, and he was kind in receiving it. I’m sure he wasn’t my fan, but we finally established a sense of peace so as to let it go. That was important. Because then, about a year and a half later, my ex-husband died. I talk about it because I’m still processing it. Papa died in summer of 2011; ex-husband died in fall of 2012. My Papa suffered for a year and a half in pain before dying of cancer; my ex thankfully died very suddenly and likely before pain registered, so say the reports.

And life moves on. On and on it tumbles. Where it stops, nobody knows. Nobody promised us rose gardens apparently.

Is it reasonable to admit that a part of me is slightly envious of my ex-husband having gone out with such suddenness and likely lack of suffering? And prior to his accident, he’d created a new life for himself, working in a bar/restaurant as he always enjoyed, and made a lot of new friends. I’m happy that he had that as his last bit of time in life. But I still hope when I die that I too can go out as suddenly and without months of suffering. It’s all true, so I’m stating it. Why? Because I can and I feel like it.

Life comes with curious ups and downs. Been in a relationship the last 2.5 years that just ended recently. Sad affair. The details of it are our business. Just is what it is.

Hip-deep in Busch Light tonight. Had what seemed like a good idea for a video earlier, but the handycam and I couldn’t seem to cooperate with one another. ‘Tis happens, more often than not.

Bad habits die hard…

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