CATT's blog: ""

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Tread lightly on a weary battered heart and wonder not when you see that once again she cries remember for her sake before you judge tho the dagger is already drawn the invisible wounds and scars she bears look closely before you plunge the blade and know with your thrust goes nearly the final flicker from her eyes imagine the tears and the desperate pleas But... don't let them haunt you long rest assured she forgives and she has you in her prayers

Can you feel my heartbeat? it's the heartbeat of the lonely and meek that beats on somehow however weak. It's the energy of a trusting soul that's been trampled by the strong and the bold. It's the pulsing of a life that cries out for mercy. Can you hear my heartbeat? Or has it been silenced by the pounding of heavy feet? Been made quiet by defeat? Can you hear my heartbeat?

Just wondering what everyone does for the holidays. For me it's usually just me, my daughter and her 3 children, all of whom live with me. It's very warm and quiet except for the hour or so when the children unwrap their gifts. This year, more so than most, I cannot seem to get into the swing of things. I've put up the tree, and decorated the house, but I have done no shopping and don't even want to. All I want to do this year is escape it. Get in the car and head somewhere warmer, where no one knows me and I can hide. It used to be so wonderful and easy. There was lots of family and friends to share it with. Aa the years have passed the friends and family have become fewer and fewer, and the season harder and harder to celebrate. This is my first Christmas since the breakup of my 11 year relationship. For him it's perfect I'm sure, he has a new companion to share it with and a bunch of new friends. Am I bitter? YEP. So... what do you think? Run away this year, or buck up?

For the record...Youngblood = 25-40 Mature men = 40 and over. What can you say about younger men? I don't know about you, but I say Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie! Hmmm. maybe I went a little overboard rhere, let me reword that. What I mean is GIMMIE GIMMIE< GIMMIE!! Sorry, can't help myself. There's just something about them. Actually there are many things about them. They have an exuberance for life, they are fun, funloving, enthusiastic, impulsive, energetic, (God help me), adventurous, and for the most part, they want to please. Now this isn't to say the mature man is ho-hum. They have their good qualities. There is a certain security with them, they have an appreciation for life, and the finer things, because they have earned them. But you see, when you get roses from a mature man, it says he appreciates you. When you get roses from a younger man Oh Lordy, it means he wants to do it again and again and again. It says he wants to spend time with you, and on some level he relates and he wants more. Champagne and chocolate covered strawberries from a mature man says romance. I like to be romanced... sometimes, but champagne and strawberries from a younger man says let's see where this leads! Mature men at an amusement park, need I say more? Younger men at an amusement park... Oooo my! Pray that ferris wheel gets stuck with you at the top! When a mature man gets hot and sweaty it's right into the shower, when a younger man gets hot and sweaty he spends a little time saying look at me. Mature men are comfortable, settling and safe. Now don't get me wrong, I like ALL men. I enjoy their company. I really do. And sometimes I like comfortable, settling and safe. And I'm sure there will come a time when that is what I want. But... Oh Lord I'm gonna get in so much trouble hhere... But that can get boring, and I'm not ready for that yet. So... in the end, I guess what I am saying is... Youngblood... Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie!! OK, I'll get off my soapbox now. ;)

Let's talk about HAIR! We all have it... well almost all of us. Let's just say we all HAD it once upon a time. Were we ever satistfied with the way it looked? NOOOOOO!!!! We always want something different, something new. I was looking at my hair the other day thinking I was tired of it just hanging there. So, I broke out the hot rollers. A little curl, a little body ya know? Not according to MY hair! It thought it looked just fine... FLAT!! Must have, because 30 minutes, 3 burned fingers and 2 tired arms later it was still just that. So, I started thinking color. Once again something different, something new. So, a trip to Wal-Mart. After another 30 minutes of looking at all the pretty boxes I left. Empty handed. Lord have mercy... how do you choose? First I thought, I'm a blonde, was born that way, must be the way I was meant to be. I'll keep it that way. Then I thought, aww hell, a little touch up. Winter is coming let's brighten it a tad, just a shade lighter right? Ha! There are about 3,000 shades of blonde! None of which of course I thought was me. So... I started looking at the highlighting kits. Something subtle... a little brighter around the face, to frame it. Blah! To much damn work! Have you seen those stupid caps you are supposed to pull your hair through?! That may work for someone with a foot or less of hair, but I have over 3 feet of hair! By the time I got my hair through those little holes I would have a nest for the birdies! So another thought, change the color. Ok, so what color? Red? Hmmm could work, mom was a redhead. I have fair skin, blue eyes... OK, red it is. Once again what shade? How many red shades can there be? Well not AS bad as blonde, only 2,000. FEH!!! Penny or burgandy? UGH! I decided it's not worth it. I'll be happy with the way I look. UNTIL I spotted the temporary color washes! Now that sounds easy. And hell if I don't like it, it's going to go away all by itself when I wash my hair... 30 times... So, I think. off to the hairdresser. Surely they would have an idea, AND they would do all the work. Sure, at what cost?!?! I don't know about you, but my budget doesn't have an extra 200 buck in it for a splurge. So, just a trim. Get rid of all those dead ends. Then I remember the last trip to the hairdresser. I Walked in, sat down, and 30 minutes later, I look at the floor and there is a mountain of hair! ALL MINE!! NOOOOOO!! No one comes near my head with scissors EVER again. So, here I sit with the exact same hair I had yesterday. Looking at those damn rollers... thinking... ahh nevermind it's all too much work. And besides, I look fine.

Let me explain... I have everything from the farmer's daughter, to Stevie Nicks! Something must be right for ANY day! Yes?

How is it that we can look in our closets with clothes overflowing, and find nothing to wear?!?!? I swear, I have clothes everywhere, even in my daughters closet, but if it isn't just grab a t-shirt and jeans I am completely lost. Now it isn't because I don't know how to coordinate mind you, because everything I buy, I buy to go with something else. (well almost everything) Come on girls you understand the impulse buy right? RIGHT???? So.... what? Mood swings? Indicision? What? Me indecisive? Nope, can't be that one... Wanna wear it all? Don't like any of it anymore? Wrong time of year for the one outfit you really WANT to wear? Grrrrrr! I'm sitting here right now in a raggedy pair of sweats and an OLD t-shirt... Why?? I have at least 50 more t-shirts, good jeans, Lord knows how many dresses, skirts, jumpers, yes... I wear them... ahem, lace, velvet, satin, every color anything you can imagine, and I'm wearing junk! Do I justify it by saying Oh Hell, it's 5:46 in the morning and I'm not going anywhere today? Well Geeze, if I know I'm not going anywhere most days except work which doesn't count, than why did I buy all this shit!?!?!?! I had to have it... simple answer. No wait...Heh... it called to me... I'll wear it someday... it's the perfect color... look how it fits... look how great it makes my ass look... Ugh, I could go on and on, but I won't. ;) Just please, TELL ME WHAT TO WEAR TODAY!!

Well, here I sit... no one to talk to because the one I thought would always be there has walked out and found someone new. What is it about being alone that makes one want to talk? When I had someone here, I seemed to have nothing to say. I know it's for the best, bad love is a waste of time, energy, love and life, still it's so hard to start over. I grew so used to my life, as it were. Bad, hard, whatever. Where does one start? Somedays I'm not even sure I want to. Not sure I should. How and when do you know when the time is right? Eleven years I gave, just to have my heart and soul butchered. After promises of growing old together, now there is just me, the thoughts of him in another's arms, and the prospect of growing old alone. Dreams of empty houses, lethargy, depression, and lots of wine to kill the pain. I hear there is life out there, but of this I can only imagine. Of this I can only hope. So tonight I will curl up on my side of the bed once again, hug my pillow, remember his touch, the warmth of his body, his smell, and wonder if waking up tomorrow is even a good idea. And tomorrow will come, and I WILL wake up. And I will trudge along, remembering the pain, and wanting it, because the pain of what was "called" love is better than this pain I know now that is called starting over.