putting the "fun" in "funeral"...

So I just got home a bit ago from my step-grandfather's (H.B.'s) funeral. He was married to my MiMa for 25 years before she passed this last summer, so he's essentially the only grandfather I've ever known. It's sad for his children and grand-children & great-grand-children, but the man lived a lovely, full life for 88 years. We should all be so lucky. His health was declining and he'd been struggling with diabetes for years, followed by Alzheimer's and most recently, lung cancer. There's sadness but also relief, because we know that he's no longer suffering. Death is a release for the dead, it's those of us left living who have to figure out how to carry on. I'm not going to lie to all of you--I wasn't close to him, but I did love and respect him and appreciated how much he loved me and my family after he married my MiMa. He was a very sweet and loving man and I'm proud to have known him. His children were all very sweet and receptive to me as well, and I wish them all the best as they carry on their lives without him.

The service was fine and I sometimes get tickled at people and things they do and say...In particular, I saw an "LOL" (little old lady) carrying a HUGE Louis Vuitton bag and wearing REALL UGGS and tights and a freakin' snowflake sweater vest and she was just so cute in that quirky old lady way. I think she was at my MiMa's funeral, too, because I remember that LV bag...

It was also nice at the graveside service, because H.B. had been in the Navy in his younger years, and so my brother had procured an honor guard of three sailors. Bless their hearts, they were so precious! I know how emotionally draining that detail can be, as the DH has served on funeral detail for the Army and has told me stories of how difficult it can be, even at the services of complete strangers. Two of them undraped the flag from the coffin and held it up for as as the third played "Taps," actually factually on a real bugle, and it was lovely. It's a sad song but also peaceful and respectful and it was just right. Then the two folded the flag (and the youngest cutie pie had some struggles because he wanted to get it just right, and he was shaking and so nervous and so determined to get it just right...how do you not fall just a little bit in love with someone who cares so much?) and they handed it to H.B.'s oldest son, and it was just...lovely. It was a nice moment and I'm glad to have witnessed it. I went to each of them after the service was over and shook their hands and thanked them for being there and for their service, and that I knew how difficult that work can be, but that we were ALL so grateful they were there.

I did try to behave, to smile reassuringly, to hug on my Daddy, to offer love & support to my family members there, and to be a good daughter and funeral-goer. HOWEVER, I must admit that because I am not a Christian, and would in most cases describe myself as a mix of Pastafarian/atheist/agnostic, I find the entire ritual surrounding death for Christians to be rather disconcerting and even off-putting sometimes. First of all, most of my father's side of the family are very religious--some Church of Christ, some Baptist--so we already don't see eye-to-eye on that subject. But I try to be at least respectful of their customs and beliefs, even when I think they're really strange and even ridiculous. A lot of this started for me when my step-mother passed a few years ago. She was married to my father for years and years, and she was also in very poor health when she passed. So of course, I had to go to the family visitation hours, also known as...THE VIEWING. What gets me is this whole putting the body on display thing. I do NOT want to look at a dead body. I don't want to be in the same room as a dead body. I do NOT want to EVER be put on display as a dead body. It's just so ick and oogy and weird and wrong to me. It makes me extremely uncomfortable because it's really just all so much rotting flesh and whatever it was that made the person THAT PERSON is gone. What's the point of looking at the shell? It got even more awkward for me when MiMa passed and the entire sermon at her service was about how the spirit lives on and the body is just a shell...then why the hell are we all parading past this open casket to look at the dead shell?!?! This makes no sense...did I mention that already? They never look real or natural or right in that state. And sometimes listening to the sermons just makes me want to laugh out loud, like that scene in "Heathers" where Wynona Ryder is laughing at the football players' funeral.

But listen, in all honesty, just because I don't believe in this stuff doesn't mean I begrudge others their beliefs. I totally understand why people would cling to this explanation of what might happen after death, and why it would bring them peace and possibly even make them better people in life. So far, I respect them and they respect me and at this point, I haven't had to argue much with those folks in my family. Believe me, if I feel the need to fight with them to make myself be heard, I will do it, but for now, I'm content to keep my mouth shut and leave them to their beliefs.

Naturally, being at a funeral makes me think of what I'd like for my own service. I'm not entirely sure where such a thing would be held, as I don't worship anywhere in a traditional sense, don't belong to any sort of church community...What I do know is that I want it to be FUN. Sad, yes, with wailing and gnashing of teeth and sorrow, of course, but mostly FUN! I want there to be wine and cheese and hysterical laughter and GREAT STORIES about me...tons of pictures of me and my family and friends and wonderful memories...feathers and flowers in riotous colors like hot pink and purple and red and orange and yellow...beads and glitter and candles. I want MUSIC...I want songs to be played and listened to and sung and celebrated as part of my life. I want everyone there to remember what I brought to their lives, be it joy or aggravation or both. I hope there are still folks around to remember me. lol I DO NOT want to be put in a box and buried in the ground...I want to be cremated and to have my ashes scattered, half in Monterey Bay and half in Boston Harbor. I want people to know that if they need me after I'm gone, all they need to is search within their hearts and there I'll be in all the great memories they have of me.

I guess that's all I have to say about that.
Love to you all,
Lola

to OFH2:

To my darling Original Future Husband #2:
I have something else I must get off my chest, proverbially speaking. I am completely at a loss as to what I could have done to suddenly make you hate me so much that you would want to see me in this emotional distress. I have this awful, wonderful gift of knowing men better than they know themselves, so I suspect that you have some bizarre guilt or regret for telling me what you did. You shared a secret with me and I will protect it to my last breath. But for some reason, you now distrust me. And/or you distrust yourself. Either way, it's terribly unfair to me, and frankly, to yourself.
I probably shouldn't admit this, but even if you called me right now and told me to fuck off and die, that you never wanted anything ever to do with me again and that I should forget you ever existed...it wouldn't change how I feel about you. I would still be here anytime you needed me. In all truthfulness, I thought we had a friendship that would last. I took it for granted that you would always be there...that I would always be here...and that someday, far in the future, the deal that we made so long ago would be honored.
I will never understand a man's ability to simply shut off anyone or anything he finds unpleasant, or to discard whomever he is finished with, without word or justification of any kind. All I'm asking is for a reason, for your truth, for your honesty, and for your presence. Your absence, the current black hole of nothingness I'm currently experiencing from you, is awful. It's torture of the worst kind. If you want to tell yourself that I'm being crazy, or overdramatic, or that I'm asking too much of you, then I guess that's what you have to do. It would just be a great relief to me in the long run if you could relieve me of this suffering by sharing that feeling with me.
What this boils down to is me asking you to look under your sofa for your balls so that you can just tell me the fucking truth and get it over with already.
Thanks,
Lola

I hate this...

I'm filled with a loneliness and restlessness that cannot be abated by anything but the one thing I cannot have. Work, TV, movies, shopping, drinking, eating, friends, relatives...they are all but blips of distraction in this dark empty sky filling my soul. Alone with myself, I can only think of what I am missing right now.

My fake boyfriends are of no use to me at the moment. They bring me no joy or pleasure, only disappointment and sadness and disregard.

Please don't ask me if I want to talk about this with you. I don't. I can't physically bring the words from my mouth that can express what I am going through and to say them aloud makes the feelings all too real. Besides that, talking about them does no good. It doesn't ease the heartache and it doesn't change this reality. It is what it is and there is nothing before me but time, stretching into a length of unbearability.

This is what no one talks about: The loneliness. It's so much worse than I ever thought it could be. It's not just about missing someone, or being alone. It's not just about being deprived of physical affection. It's not just about having to be fiercely independent once again, after years of being part of a team. It's all of that and more that I can't put into words. And that there is absolutely nothing that can be done to fix it until the time comes for it to be fixed. I question the decision, the reality, the necessity...None of it seems right. It's not right. It's wrong, all wrong, but there is no correction for it. Only minutes turning into hours turning into days and weeks and months...It is all so overwhelming at the moment.

...is this thing on?

I'm just wondering if anyone is reading this...I'm not thinking of stopping, because I NEED this outlet like ya'll just don't know. However, I am writing things for myself as well, mostly because they aren't fit for public consumption--at least, not by anyone who knows me. But I'm not getting any feedback, so once again, here I am, begging for someone to tell me something. What direction would you like to see this go in? Do you love or hate the utter randomness of it all? Please, someone...tell me something!

I'll keep writing, I just hope ya'll will keep reading.

And with it being New Year's Eve, I must absolutely wish all of you health, love, luck, and happiness in the new year. I wish fabulous things for all of us. I just don't have anything more profound than that to say.

Hugs & Kisses,
Lola

there's just so much...

Well, Lola fans, I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've written. My usual excuses hold true--the time and inspiration just haven't been there. And again, right now, as I type, I struggle. I fight myself with this thing every time I write. How much do I share? Just how vulnerable do I allow myself to become? Plus, there are so many things going on in my world...in my mind...in my heart...How do I ever organize it into a cohesive blog?

I guess let's start with whatever comes up first, shall we?

I'm watching an "LA Ink" marathon on TLC, which is a dangerous endeavor for me. I really admire Kat Von D. She's gorgeous, she's tatted to shit, she wears crazy amazing makeup, she's brilliant and strong and talented and seems to be a wonderful friend and businesswoman. And every time I watch this show, I find myself plotting some crazy makeup schemes with wild colors and mismatching and an in-your-face aesthetic. I also find myself dreaming up new tattoo ideas and trying to figure out where I could put them. I struggle all the time with my inner desire to just tattoo nearly every blank square-inch of skin on my body from the shoulders down; and my practicality that reminds me of how much time and trouble that would cost me when it comes to performing and having to cover that shit up. Plus, I've always told myself that my tattoos must be meaningful to me for the long run, but I also give myself some leeway by reminding myself that the ink will always tell my story. Any given tattoo is just a visual illustration of where I was in my life at that moment, and every experience is a learning experience. There is no room in my life for regret. So who knows what ink may come down the pipe? Pin-ups, flowers, banners, my tarot card, maybe a cat...I have so many ideas...I'm just waiting for my body to tell me what it wants at the right time.

Now, that's not to say I don't wish certain events in my life had happened...What I mean is that, I don't regret anything I've done. There are things that I missed out on, opportunities I did not take advantage of. Mostly boys I could have hooked up with that I didn't, for whatever reason I had at the time. I should've just jumped their bones when I had the chance. I can count those on one hand, but the impact those missed opportunities had on my life will be felt until the moment I draw my last breath.

Speaking of boys, I have some things to say:
DA, I still fucking miss you. I hate it, but I miss you every fucking day. It's like this ridiculous loss of something I never had and some days it feels like an illusion and some days the ache is so real it stops my breath. I still see the future we might have had, the path we didn't get to take. It's just so strange. This feeling...all these feelings I have for you...they don't stem from any sort of dissatisfaction in my life. I'm a very loved, lucky, content woman who has more than I ever dreamed of. But I still see it. I see this alternate reality sort of shimmering in the distance, I imagine our wedding, I remember how I felt around you, and I know that you're gone from me...possibly forever...and there are days I just don't know how to process that.

To my fake boyfriend Adam Levine, I'm so disappointed in you. I really wish you had crawled under the sofa and found your balls. You've never been able to be honest with me, and for some idiotic reason, I took that as a reflection on me. But I realize now, it has nothing to do with me at all--it has everything to do with your utter lack of...you know, I'm not sure exactly what it is you're lacking. Couth? Honesty? Consideration? Ok, yeah, all of the above. Why couldn't you just tell me you had a real girlfriend and that you needed me to leave you alone? Leaving someone to figure out something like that and hear things from other people is just flat-out wrong. So fine. It's over. Done. Later. I reckon she'll discover what a freak you really are and run for the hills, because she just doesn't strike me as that kind of girl. Though, I could also see you completely stifling that part of you just to keep her by your side. From here, it looks an awful lot like a match made for other people rather than your personalities, but what the fuck do I know? Nada.

Well, I guess that's all the crap that was floating in the top of my brain that needed to be let out...Later, faithful Lola fans.

I love you all, never forget it.
Lola

*le sigh*

I had an awful night last night. I couldn't sleep well and when I did I had fitful dreams and tossed and turned. The brief flashes of dreams have already escaped my memory. I feel down, I feel blue, and I feel...well, I wish I were a teenage girl again and could close myself off in my room and mope with bad poetry and sad songs and weeping until I have it all out of my system.

Stu, I need you. Remember when some stupid boy broke my heart (or at least wounded my ego) and you would come over with ice cream and beer or burgers and shakes and we would play Tekken 3 on PlayStation until you were totally humiliated with losing? Or I'd come over to your parents' house and we'd stew in the hot tub until my problems were totally forgotten? Or you'd make a huge batch of pizza rolls or bowls of ramen and we'd watch some stupid movie and laugh and snuggle? I so need that right now. Of course, I also need what always happened after my tears were dried...I need it as much as I needed it then. I think we both took each other for granted. You always let me cry on your shoulder and you almost always took care of me and put things right again. There were only a couple of times you really let me down: The time I got dumped in OKC and called you and you couldn't tell me the one thing I needed to hear, and the time we both realized we weren't going to work it out. That was a longer, more amorphous time but there it is. I know that it all worked out for the best for both of us. Yet I also know that we could've had a future together if we'd wanted it. I think we just didn't want it enough at the right time. I also wish the rules were different and that I could get what I need from you without repercussion. Ah, well, it seems that is also not meant to be.

So the rejection from AL still stings, and I'm feeling pretty down on myself. Of course, there are MANY other factors contributing to this: I still think of DA all the time, my DH is leaving soon, I'm over-worked and over-stressed and tired. Please don't get me wrong: I know how lucky I am to have what I do, particularly in regard to the DH. But there is always going to be a lack of fulfillment, and I think it's just human nature. We all want what we can't have, whatever we have we don't want, the grass is greener and all that...

Sadly and with longing,
Lola

set me free, why don'tcha babe...

Disclaimer: Please do not read any further if you have trouble imagining me as an adult and therefore a sexual being. Thank you.

Dear "Adam Levine,"
(For those of you new to my blog, Adam is the code name for one of my fake boyfriends.)
Now you are haunting my dreams. Two nights in a row, I have dreamt of you. Last night was intense. I don't want to get into the details...flesh, heat, clean white sheets, pillow talk, and tattoos...and nothing but an endless night stretching before us. I ache for you--the pall of it lingers over my day today. I feel as though I am moving in a slow-motion fog...I miss you and I've never had you and it's just so fucking unfair. I want you. And that's not fair, either, but there it is. Please don't get me wrong, I do NOT wish to be unfaithful to my DH. But a girl needs a fantasy and this girl likes for her fantasies to play along a little bit.

Yet, in the almost two years we've known each other, you have never once taken me up on an inviatation to hang out, even when I promise to behave. You always have something better to do, or make other plans in spite of the invitation. Nor have you ever invited me out for coffee or a horror movie or any damn thing. Your constant rejection of me is finally starting to get to me. (My ego is strong and can really take a beating, apparently) I genuinely do not understand why you would not want to hang out with me. I think we could be great friends and I really don't get it. I know how desperate this sounds and I've reached the point of not caring. I just want to know why. This isn't a whine, it's a genuine need...I must know the reason. I have my theories, and if you're reading this, please just tell me if I'm close with one of the following:

1. You find me utterly repulsive, physically and mentally and you canNOT figure out why I won't leave you alone after all this time. Take a hint, already, Lola!

2. You find me vaguely interesting and not really physically repulsive, but have been completely honest with me regarding the reasons why you cannot hang out with me every time I've invited you--it's nothing personal, you're just busy and let's face it, rather inconsiderate.

3. You are just the type of person who keeps people at arm's-length until you feel you can trust them. But how are you ever to really get to know me if you refuse to hang out with me for longer than 5 minutes?!

4. My husband is the deal-breaker. Even though I've hidden nothing from him regarding my feelings about you, and even openly flirt with you in front of him and he's totally ok with it, you just can't wrap your brain around it and therefore feel you must keep your distance from me.

5. You are wildly attracted to me and wish desperately that you could ravage me in unspeakable ways but as I am married, you feel it best to keep your distance, as I am clearly not strong enough to resist the attraction between us.

I do want to know, so please enlighten me. However, I have very nearly decided that I'd rather you just be done with it and break my heart. If you don't want to count me among your friends, then please please please, just tell me. Fake break-up with me and have it done with. I can't stand to be strung-along any further. It won't be easy for me...I'll be fairly devestated inside and really won't be able to deal with it openly, but hey, that's why I have a blog. I've already lost DA for good (or at least until his current relationship meets it's end) and you're among my favorite remaining fake boyfriends. But I can't maintain such a one-sided relationship. If this is the most pathetic thing you've ever read, that's ok. I'm feeling kinda pathetic right now. All this unrequited wanting is exhausting.

This all boils down to the fact that I'm the kind of girl who can't take hints. I'm so blunt and open and honest that I really don't understand it when people are not blunt and open and honest with me. If you hate me and want me to leave you alone, then tell me. If in reading this you realize that all your refusal to hang out with me is really kinda silly and you'd like to get to know me better, then tell me. If you really do want me and feel that you can't hang with me because you're afraid I'm going to attempt to violate you, then tell me. But at least give me the chance to prove you wrong. If you read this and decide I'm a complete psycho, then I guess that's my cross to bear and I'll have to deal with it. But I can only come to terms with your feelings if you TELL ME.

My emotional freedom lies in your very sexy hands...

With love and lust,
Lola