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2004-06-12 @ 10:46 p.m. |
| Paranoia, ya there? Paranoia, YA THERE?!?!? She�s over there. She�s just hiding behind the blue sofa my Dad gave me a few years ago. Its that busy time of the month for Witty�s favorite muse. Its the week before my period. I always have so many tales to spin out of thin air and so many questions to ask. Me: �Do you think my cat still love me? She seems really distant.� Paranoia: �Yes�. Me: �Do you think Married Guy will ever leave his wife for me? He seems to be bending a little...� Paranoia: �Witty, we�ve been over this before...NO� Me: �Do you think my ass will look big if I wear stretchy white pants?� Paranoia: (cough) �Yes.� Me: �Do you think Johnny Depp will ever leave his beautiful skinny model wife for me?� Paranoia: �Did you forget to take your meds again?� So for the last couple of days I have been thinking about the Nanny situation. Something just doesn�t seem right about the whole thing? �A� isn�t telling me something. There seems to be a piece missing. And since I am a former screenplay writer and I am experiencing severe PMS, I have decided to create a fantastic tale of fantasy tonight. Why? Because its my diary, dammit! So here�s my take on the whole thing... The hottie guy Tom from my group is actually the Nanny Guy Greg, and �A� didn�t want to tell me. He wanted me to be comfortable with the guy, and he somehow got the guy to go along with it. Whadda ya think? Yeah, Paranoia thought it was weird too. But here is how I arrived at my conclusions. �A� was way anxious in his preparation for my meeting with Tom in his group. �Be nice to him. Be extra nice. Be sure to make a good impression.� I�m always nice to everyone. He�s never been that stringent about me meeting anyone before. And this seemed particularly important to him for some reason. Why should I be so nice to some guy�s brother? Why is it so important? And then a week went by with no talk of the Nanny thing. And then in that week things had heated up again with Married Guy. And that always causes consternation with �A�. And then the next week (this last Tuesday), �A� had just picked up the phone during my session and called the Nanny guy on the speakerphone. He didn�t really ask me. I had told him I didn�t really know about it. And then he just sort of did it. Sort of like pushing things to happen. And I�m very passive. Oh did I mention Greg sounded a lot like Tom on the phone? Guess brothers can sound alike, right? And then on that same day when �A� had arranged for Tom to talk to me about his brother, he seemed extremely nervous and unsure about what to say or do. He was actually shaking a little. I doubt if I was making him shake. He�s gorgeous. Why would I make him nervous? He said his brother wasn�t very involved with the kids and that he was a workaholic. Was he mad at his brother or was he just being self critical? �A� did tell me he was just letting me know of possible pitfalls. Well, that�s good, but he sure knew a lot about what was going on up at Casa de la Greg. Oh, and there was other strange thing Tom had said. Instead of saying �Our father is taking care of the kids (as in him and his brother�s), he said, My father is taking care of the kids.� Probably an adverbian slip-up, right? So I decided to do a little Internet snooping last night. Typed in Greg�s name. Got his work info. Got some info on his wife�s recent death. Got some info on a lawsuit (nothing serious, just a spat about a bus). Tom�s name isn�t on the net. Greg�s son�s name...TOM. Hmmm. Ain�t the internet great? Then I decided to print out a map to his house for today. Gee, don�t I sound like a stalker? No, I was just curious about where he lived. Greg, that is. Not Tom. He�s only an unimportant second string brother, right? It was quite a hike though. About 60 miles round trip. Yowza. With some really big hills inbetween. Ones that made my brakes squeal. But it was a nice day and a nice drive. But let me tell you, I was nervous. It was actually up where I went to my cousin�s wedding last summer. It was way up in one of those places that was off a road, that was off a road, that was off a road. I had to keep suppressing the urge to sing the theme song from �Green Acres� ...�Land spreading out so far and wide, keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside!� It was beautiful though. Farmlands, barn silos, and roads with names like Hogsback and Haybail. It took me about 40 minutes to get out there. Thanks to the Mapquest directions I knew where I was going to be getting off a main road and hitting some unpaved sections, so at least there were no surprise there, at least until I got to my destination. Man, that House O�Greg was HUGE (!!!), but very strange looking. It was at the end of a dirt road surrounded by woods and I really can�t describe the architectural style. I couldn�t tell if it was an old house being renovated or a new house being made to look old. But it was unfinished just as Tom/Greg had said, with missing siding, and a huge porch and a big cupola up on the roof. I think it also had a big tiki thing on the porch and there were two cars parked out in front. Probably the deceased wife�s car and grand dad�s car. And my heart was really pounding as I quickly turned around out front. I was a little mad at myself though, for driving 30 miles and not really getting a good look at things. But I was glad once I turned my car around and was heading back towards civilization. And then just as I was about to hit Rt. 21, what do I see? A bright red truck. Tom has a bright red truck. Is that Tom driving right towards me? Does he recognize my car? SHIT!!!!!I immediately flipped down my sun visor and drove Helen Kellerish, hoping I stayed on the road, because I literally could not see where I was driving. Witty, how DO you get yourself into these situations? Bad bipolar. Bad! So I�m not sure if that was, in fact, Tom/Greg but that sure scared the crap out of me, seeing a car that looked just like the one owned by someone who might possibly live at the end of the street where I was engaging in stalker-like activities. My heart was REALLY pounding though. After all this near-heart attack provoking activity, I decided to drive to this nearby resort town that sits on the edge of a really pretty lake. Its a very quaint little town with antique shops filled with tourists in Polo shirts. I know I don�t really fit in, so I just went down to a lakeside park and sat on the bench and looked out at the water. I wondered what it would be like to live in a big house at the end of a road with a cupola. In the winter it wouldn�t be so hot, because our winters are really harsh thanks to Canada�s nearby influence. But the summers would be nice, since its so beautiful out there. But its also really far from everything. Far from town. Far from my art classes. And far from Married Guy. (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know �A�, that would be a good thing, at least in your eyes). But it might also be closer to something new. A new person. A new family. A new life. Is it worth the risk? I�m not really sure. And I guess I shouldn�t ask Paranoia, since I already know what her answer would be. Older Entries |
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |
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