March 22, 2006 - 9:58 p.m.
I feel her spirit calling me. Reaching out to make another long-lasting connection. Yet I cannot bring myself to rise above my pride and grasp her ring again. The last time I pulled the handle, she hid behind the curtain like the Wizard of Oz. Pretending to be bigger, better, more talented than she could admit to being in real life. As though I could not see through her good and bad days. It showed in her voice. Instrument of its own that needs constant attention and development. I kept waiting for the hard, difficult truth to emerge. It came in bits and pieces. Admission of daily medication. Fear of public places. Fear of being alone. But never the full view. To make sense of it all, I internalized a lack of collaboration, goal setting as disinterest, mediocre talent that she was appeasing because I had shown kindness to her. Commuting the distance. Giving away clothes that no longer fit me. I would have been happy to rehearse each week together in her home. Working up the song and nerves to perform one or two in public. I wasn't expecting payment or a musical career. Way too old and realistic for pipe organ dreams. I accept life's limitations. Handle the truth most days.
My brother-in-law suffers from OCD and clinical depression. Baby sister divorced him last year. She couldn't handle the loss of hope. Loss of jobs and weight loss. He has reduced himself to skin and bones. So they hospitalized him primarily for health reasons. Divorce is a very stressful life event. Even for normally adjusted individuals. It pushed him over the cliff. At age 43, I doubt he will fully recover. Even partially recover from it all. Last I heard, his therapist is recommending a group home. He will lose his SSI funded apartment. What's left of his independence, self-respect, and pride. He left these things at the family residence before he walked out the door and across town. I don't blame my sister for divorcing him. He has shown signs of clinical depression and mental instability for the past 20 years. It took the struggles and pressures of middle age, parenthood to reveal the bigger cracks.
My family has compassion. My sister buys his groceries. My father takes his ex son-in-law to the hospital, mental health clinic, and restaurants to put some weight back on him. A sad, sad situation. From my bipolar, deceased mother I learned compassion at an early age. Along with being able to quickly identify emotional highs and lows. At the tail ends of the bell curve. I can offer my hand of friendship to most areas on the curve. But I cannot allow myself to be taken advantage of, humiliated, tormented, or abused whatsoever. I will protect myself at all times. Whenever possible. At whatever cost. Common sense stuff.
Right now, my trust levels are highly guarded. I grow leery and skeptical of people's true motives. Intentions. Most people I meet don't have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of. Since I own a townhome, vehicles, and all of my belongings, I wish to keep myself free of future community property divisions, freeloaders, and opportunists. Like Denny Crane, I would want a background check after the second date... with those having desires to be coupled, or legally enmeshed.
Call me cynical, jaded, uncertain... I suppose. The more you have, the more you have to lose. I wouldn't even think about a second marriage without a prenuptial agreement. Unless Rachel Shelley was the person proposing. From a silly, celebrity watching standpoint, I am currently crushed out on her Helena Peabody character on "L-Word" showtime. She has to be the most gorgeous, sexiest, thirty-something woman on the planet. Her character is strong, intelligent and very sensitive. Like me, she can stain love on her sleeves. Each time, getting burned and scorned a little bit more. A beautiful, wealthy woman who has it all. But without longlasting, true love in her life. She is the suffering soul. Displaced by culture and accent. Struggling with her own human bondage.
Leslie Howard did a fine adaptation of the novel in a black-and-white film he made with Bette Davis of all people. As you recall, Leslie Howard played the Ashley Wilkes character in "Gone With The Wind". Forever cast as a whimpy, indecisive Southern gentleman who couldn't emotionally commit to his wife Melanie or Miss Scarlett O'Hara. His mental torment and temptations made him more human and endearing. However, I found him the most appealing in "The Scarlet Pimpernel", one of my all-time favorite movies. I have my own private Leslie Howard collection of VHS videos. Even in black-and-white film, his eyes portrayed the most deepest emotion and affection. Very seductive, bedroom eyes. Bette Davis complimented him nicely in the film ("Of Human Bondage") they made together in 1934. Nine years later, Leslie Howard died in a mysterious plane crash. He volunteered to fly a secret mission for Britain. In a plane over Germany that was shot down in hostile territory. He answered the call of Winston Churchill. Sacrificing his life and film career. Very few men have captivated me like Leslie Howard. And Merle Oberon reminds me of the current day Rachel Shelley. Both women equally beautiful and stunning. Rachel was not discovered by Hollywood before the L-Word because she chooses to reside in London. I think she realized the career cost later in life, as a thirty-something actress trying to be among the top female B-listers. I wish her all the best in her career endeavors. And her boyfriend is damn lucky she isn't bisexual or lesbian. Jodie Foster or the real-life Dylan Moreland (Alexandra Hedison, ex-wife of Ellen DeGeneres) would have swept Rachel off her feet by now. Unless they're partially blind and totally insecure.
If Rachel had the tomgirl attitude of Jodie Foster, and a little less ultra femme... she would be the perfect woman. Even more so than Angelina Jolie whom I adore but don't quite understand. I hope the international adoptions and rapid parenting decisions are the right ones for her, Brad, Zahara, and Maddox. Not to mention their unborn love child.
~ Soldier Girl
