Entries by Heather Duffin

This place get weirder and weirder, but this specific thing is particularly awesome. I don't have cable, so I was going to go hang out and watch The Office last night with some friends down the road. I grabbed my purse and started the short walk. The street that leads me to their place is nicknamed "Renter's Row" as it's a bunch of lower income homes and duplexes for rent and you often see piles of broken furniture and just house junk that people throw out in their yard when they move out. This one house has been for rent for a bit and as I approached it I saw a huge pile of dirt and leaves in the front yard of the empty house. And as I got closer and could see around the tree blocking part of the view, I saw a large animal sleeping on it! I thought it was a huge dog at first and kind of panicked because it was really big and not in a backyard. As I got closer I saw what it was and kind of panicked for a second...it was a lion!!! The following conversation ensued in my head...

Imagination: There's a fucking lion in my neighborhood!!!

Logic: You retard! Why would a lion be in your neighborhood?

Imagination: It ran away from the circus and found its way here looking for food! What if he's hungry and I walk by?

Logic: It's been a couple of months since the circus was here. If a lion escaped, you'd have heard about it.

Imagination: Okay, so maybe it's an escapee from some redneck who illegally bought a lion. You hear stories about that all the time of people buying tigers or chimps and stuff and then they snap one day and kill or maul their owner's friend. It made its escape and found its way here. Now he's napping and waiting for his dinner. This is the South, weird shit happens all the time here. People find legs in smokers and stuff.

Logic: You're in therapy, right?

Imagination: Yes.

Logic: Good.

So after the battle of Imagination vs. Logic, I compromised; I walked slowly and quietly as I neared the sleeping lion. And as my blind ass got close, I saw it. It was a very large stuffed lion. Okay, so I was partially correct.

My friends and I were talking about scary movies later that night and I got scared to walk home in the dark so they drove me and I told them I had to show them the lion. As they approached I shouted, "There he is!" Josh turned the car a bit so that the headlights shone directly on the large stuffed animal napping on dirt. It was missing an eye.

"It's a faceless lion," I whispered.

"Ohhhhh. It's the Velveteen Rabbit," Priscilla whimpered.

This of course led to conversation of that book and I was getting misty-eyed. I was grateful to stop talking about it by the time I got home, as everything makes me cry lately and I didn't need to add "stuffed animal books" to the list of things that make me weep.

This morning as I drove in to work, I passed the lion and stopped and took a picture. Here he is. I'm still thinking he escaped from the circus...or Toys R' Us.

I will be the first to admit that I have done many stupid things in my life...MANY stupid things. I have been too impulsive, too naive, too whimsical, too much a believer in signs, too klutzy, too mouthy, and too animated in my hand gestures (this having led to the injuries of myself and others). I do not deny these things. I have the scars, both physical and emotional, to prove it. It's okay, I can at least admit it and most of the mistakes can be laughed at. The ones that are difficult to find funny and instead should have had me institutionalized at the first announcement of said mistake, are the ones involving love.

I am not a believer in fairy tales, but I do believe in signs and I used to believe in love and those things have led me to much trouble. I was engaged after two weeks of knowing my first fiancé when I was 18. I almost moved to L.A. for a different relationship, but wizened up and realized that was too risky (why did I have more sense than now?). I was 24 when I bought a house with the man I'd only been dating for five...yes five...months. I then decided this meant we needed to marry since we owned a home and we did seven months later. I then cried in the plane bathroom on our way home from our honeymoon because I realized what I'd done and wasn't ready for marriage and then resented my husband for the next three years for something that I had wanted, until we finally divorced. I have decided it'd be fantastic to go for a drive in the woods with a stranger I'd just met who wanted to show me elk (luckily he really did). I spent a weekend with a man whom when looking for a pen in his glove box, discovered paperwork showing his recent release from a mental hospital. I have had plenty of flings, dates, brief relationships and such that all sounded wonderful at the time; I think maybe like a handful really were. Seriously, I'm beyond an idiot about this stuff.

Friend: Heather, I don't think you should go out with that guy. I think he was just doing coke in the bathroom and I saw him kick a puppy.

Me: No, he wasn't doing coke. He said his allergies are just really bad and his Nasonex leaves a white residue. And he didn't kick the puppy, he TRIPPED over the puppy. Trust me, I get a good vibe from this guy. Plus he was black hair and thick eyebrows! You KNOW how dreamy that is to me. And he volunteers for the DOT on weekends! You know how much I believe in volunteering and giving back.

After one to three dates I then realize he is a total cokehead, is mean to animals and is doing community service for his domestic violence charges. Seriously...stupid, stupid choices.

And of course we have the master takeover of retardation in moving 3,000 miles for someone I fell in love with after a week and dated long distance for three months. Most friends expressed concern and called me crazy, but I would exclaim they "just didn't understand"! Then stupid romantic, whimsical Heather packed up her shit, drove 3,000 miles and moved in with a very sweet and loving man who was also a terrible alcoholic that liked to be scary and abusive in blackouts. I think someone should have kidnapped me upon my initial announcement of moving here to stop me for my own good. Since this last debacle, I've been heartbroken and angry at myself and stayed away from men. I feel so fucked up and broken after this last one that I think I would be toxic to someone. So I stayed away...until last night.

Oh god, this is so bad.

Every Wednesday is Girls' Night and some of my girlfriends and I go to our favorite wine bar, and then sometimes off to another place where their brother-in-law DJ's. It's always a great time and it's what I look forward to every week. Wait. I must preface this with something. I recently admitted to a friend that I have a crush on someone. It's just a harmless little crush that helps me realize that I am not totally dead inside. That is a lot of progress for me. I knew if I were asked out or...god forbid...touched, I'd probably run away and cry. So I for now am just enjoying having a little crush on a nice, funny guy. That is enough for me. No expectations, no wants, just a cute guy I enjoy talking to and want nothing more from.

Well, I think having a crush must have subliminally opened some old door. Pandora's box, but a different kind of box. You see, I drank a bit too much last night. Okay, so not "a bit too much"...I got wasted. The last thing I remember is being at the other bar after the wine bar. I woke up early this morning in pain and in a strange room. There was a body next to me...alive, thank god. Holy shit! Who was this person? What happened? Where was I? Why does my butt cheek hurt so bad? I got up and got dressed quietly and went to look for my purse. I picked it up and this woke up the sleeping man in bed. I needed to get out, and NOW! I can't believe I slept with someone...and I didn't even have the luxury of remembering it. This is terrible. I am 37, not 22.

The sound of me picking up my purse awoke him. He sat up (ok, kind of cute) and asked where I was going? I said I had to get home so I could get ready for work. I internally panicked thinking of what if I can't figure my way home? He got up and gave me a kiss and told me he'd call me later. I said okay, still wondering who this person was? He started laughing and told me I was crazy and he couldn't believe I went through with the dare.

I am now alarmed. What dare?

He then smacked my ass and the pain was awful! Oh no. Why does my butt hurt? I asked what he meant and he looked shocked and asked if I remembered? I told him no, that I don't remember much of last night. He gives me a concerned look and asks if I remember his name? I start to cry and say I don't and that I don't even remember meeting him. I can't tell if he's pissed or scared by the look on his face. So then he starts to fill me in...

We met at the second bar and started doing shots. I rarely do shots. They do not like me and I do not like them. He said my friends all left and tried to convince me to go too, but I wouldn't. He said that we really hit it off and were talking about marriage and I was saying how I didn't ever want to get married again, but would love to for like a day just so I could say, "And my second husband...." So apparently he said he could help with that if it were only for a day and we agreed to go do so. I started crying really hard then. Oh my god, did I marry this guy? He quickly reassured me we hadn't because we had to have a marriage license and it was obviously too late to get one or get married. He told me we were joking around about how neither of us could afford getting wedding bands and so I suggested tattoos with each other's names on it. He quipped back that I'd never do that and I got pissed he questioned that. He said he dared me to do it then, that if I did he would pay for it and we'd get married as soon as we could and then get it annulled.

Long story short, I went through with it he said. I was now sobbing and ran into the bathroom. I knew where it was because of the pain. I pulled my pants down and there it was. Oh god, it was so much worse than I thought. Not only did I have a tattoo on my ass, but the tattoo was devastating. It was another fucking dolphin and has a trail of supposed water behind it's tail (why do they always have spray off their tail?) that spelled out this guy's name...Josh. At least I knew his name now. Oh my god!!! Why would I do this? I can't afford to have it removed, and I do not want someone's name on me, and for fuck's sake...another dolphin? I don't know which is worse? Okay, I do, but you have to admit it's a close call.

I had to leave to go home and then go to work, but we agreed to get together this weekend. I don't know if it's so I can learn more of the story or simply know something about the man on my ass. Either way it seems somewhat necessary in a weird way. I almost feel like we have to date since his name is on my butt. This is all totally devastating to me. I am almost 40-years old and I continue to make stupid choice after stupid choice. I love a good story, but this is just shameful! I think we can all agree that the name of this stupid choice can be summed up in one word...tequila. I'm never drinking again...or maybe I'll just start selling advertising space on my body. Could be a good second job.








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Nice. The following is an email received by my friend this morning. Need I say more?

Why does this headline make me think of you?

From: ******
To: Heather ********

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

:)

Stouffers To Include Suicide Prevention Tips On Single Serve Microwavable Meals http://onion.com/bPmIXw

I always remember this constant theme from the movie L.A. Story (one of my all time favorites). It seems to be quite fitting of my recent situation.

I had a very powerful talk with one of my best friends last night. We filled each other in on our lives and I poured out my heart about all my financial struggles because of being buried in medical bills, of not knowing where I was going to live when I moved out next month, of not being able to accomplish the dream I've been focused on for quite some time now, of my fears and anguish of all the crap that has happened in the last year. And then she spoke and I listened and everything changed. I always feel grounded after I speak with her and our talks always trickle into my heart and actions. She reminds me of what's right and true and the importance of turning things over and not worrying about the hows or whys of things. Whenever I speak with her I remember the person that I truly am, though I feel is hibernating. I am reminded of the importance of not keeping my truth dormant because it does nothing but leave me stagnant, unsure and fearful.

I hung up the phone grounded, content, fearless, faithful, optimistic and enlightened. I knew what needed to be done about many things. Some were simple and I knew how to accomplish them, and others I have no idea how I will get there, but I will and I will let the path there take it's own course.

All of this led to realizations and an amazing talk with my mother which left me very humble and grateful and closer to being free of the shit I've been carrying around for a long time. I won't go into details, but will just say that this last year changed my life in a very bad way and I have struggled with not succumbing to the guilt and hate that I carry that I held onto something so destructive and abusive long after it passed. I have many regrets, but I can't go back and have to let it go. I can't erase the memory, and I'm not at the point of forgiving...yet, but I have to learn to let this go because I'm the only one it's hurting. I have to stop beating myself up for the choices I made and stop focusing on being resentful because I now feel "stuck" here. My mom told me last night that she's not sure why exactly, but that she feels there was some purpose in my move out here. Whether it be to establish a stronger relationship with my niece, or to have certain people brought into my life that I wouldn't have known, or something I'm not seeing at all, there's got to be a reason.

I have to realize that this horrible last year has also brought me to a place of freedom to pursue a dream of mine that I've had for the last ten years. I've tried to make it happen numerous times, but have been distracted by other jobs, relationships, moves, etc. I now am in a place where I have no ties and the motivation to make this happen finally. I'm not getting any younger, and I feel like this is something I'm supposed to do...or more I know I'm supposed to do. I've researched it for a long time and was panicking on how to make it happen, when Michelle talked to me about setting a goal for the year and not worrying about how to get there, but to let the powers that be figure that part out. Yes, there has to be footwork, which I've done, but now I have to stop stressing and let things fall into place for how to make it happen. It's worked so many other times, why do I doubt it will work now? I shouldn't doubt it, so I choose to make this dream my intent for the year and continue to take the steps to make it happen and just believe that the Universe will bring me to that place.

So as I let that path fall into place, I will focus on letting go, healing and finding my true self once again. She used to be a good friend and I'd like to get back in touch.

First, let me say that what is about to follow is by no means meant to speak ill of the dead. It's just weird to me that all these 80's icons are dying young or younger than average. Seriously, I mean in the last year we lost Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, John Hughes, Boner from Growing Pains, and now Cory Haim. Some were "natural" causes (cancer and heart attack if you count either of those as truly "natural"), suicide, and "accidental" overdoses. It's kind of creepy to me!

ME: They just announced Cory Haim died of an overdose!!!

BRANDY: I heard that’s crazy

ME: It's like Final Destination 80's style. Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Boner from Growing Pains, Cory Haim.

BRANDY: Never saw that movie.

ME: People avoid their destined death and death is pissed and comes after them one by one. Death is taking back the 80's.

BRANDY: Is this the 1st celeb or 2nd? It happens in 3s. Nevermind, he may be the 3rd. Boner from Growing pains, the guy from Sparklehorse, and now Haim.

ME: I forgot about Sparklehorse guy. I'm seriously wondering if he won't count though. The Grim Reaper seems to be pissed at 80's actors.

BRANDY: LOL’ing at work because Death is taking back the 80’s.

ME: I think one of two things.

1) Death was a big fan of the 80's and wants them all to himself. He's collecting movie stars, TV stars and musicians. He's going to make them perform scenes from Charlie’s Angels, Growing Pains and License to Drive, all while Michael Jackson is singing Billie Jean in the background.

2) Death is PISSED at the 80's. He's taking them down one by one and making sure they can't have any comebacks like they tried. OH! Let's not forget John Hughes was 80's too! I wonder if Death wrote some screenplay, song or TV pilot or maybe ALL and none were ever picked up so he is taking back what he thinks is rightfully his!

Who will be next? It's totally going to be one of The Brat Pack, I bet. After seeing Judd Nelson at the Oscars, I almost wonder if he'll be next to go? That man is starting to like Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday in Tombstone! Actually, I'm going to place my bets on Gary Colemen. He's not been doing too well and has always had health problems. Plus he seems to have quite the volatile marriage, so is health doesn't get him, his wife just might.

The more I think about it, the more I'm actually convinced all this is the resurrection of 80's fashion. Seriously, the shit should have died as soon as the 80's was over. I remember many years ago discussing with friends that of all eras of fashion that should be dead and buried the 80's was the one that had to never come back for the sake of mankind. Alas, it did though, at least in certain ways. I'm seeing frickin' shoulder pads in fashion shows now! A lot of the tops from back then have been in for a while now, and leggings...dear god. Eylin and I have had this conversation so many times. If you are wearing them under a dress or oversized clothing, then fine. However, LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS! Do NOT wear them with a shirt that doesn't at least come to your mid-thigh. No matter how hot or skinny you are, you look like shit in your leggings when we have to see your ass and thighs. Leggings are just not flattering.

In all of this, I get what has happened. Basically what we're dealing with is this - by resurrecting 80's fashion, we have awakened Death. He is PISSED because like my statement earlier, the 80's were to be dead and buried. The dumbass who had the balls to bring back leggings and drawstring shirts is responsible for this! Didn't you people every see Jumanji? There are REASONS why the game was buried in an attic or in the sand...bring it back to life and you're playing with fire. And that's what has happened here. 80's fashion has been brought back from the dead and wasn't supposed to. Death is therefore taking back the 80's. He can't claim clothes since they're just objects. Instead he is taking LIVES. Seriously, people LIVES. It's like when Buffy was brought back from the dead because they were scared she was in Hell, but she was really in Heaven and happy. Her life resurrected was horrible compared to what she'd had in Heaven. Dear fashion designers, you are Willow, Xander and the crew resurrecting Buffy (the 80's). The 80's were happy being dead!!! They were having their own dance party in Heaven, all aglow in neon glory! Now you had to bring them back and Death has been angered and is taking people of the entertainment industry who were famous in the 80's! Stop the fashion, take back lives.

Death, just take the clothes and leave the people, okay? Oh, and uh...leave the music for me, please.