The “Bad Husband” Chronicles

Just another day for you and me in Paradise

Posts Tagged ‘children’

Take a bite out of The Big Apple

Posted by mozziestarlet on January 12, 2009

Well, today was the first day of ‘official’ business for me in The Big Apple.  So, I put on my game face this morning as I am here representing my company at a large tradeshow.  I am by far in the minority here on two levels: 1.)  80% of the attendees are male and 2.) .001% are from the South!  Nevertheless, I am managing to hold my own, keep my head up high and shine my hospitable nature to everyone.  In case you’re just tuning in, I am a hardcore supporter of ‘The Golden Rule.’  And no, not the one that says, “he who has the gold makes the rules,” but rather, “Always treat others how you want to be treated.”  Trust me folks, you can never go wrong with this approach.  Like frowning, it takes much more energy to be negative or rude to someone than to be kind to them.  Both of you feel better in the long run and you’re much more likely to make a lasting impression on someone by practicing this approach.  If you don’t believe me, give it a try.  It will put an immediate pep in your step, pinky swear.

Of course, being a young woman traveling alone always causes the parental units to shift into code orange on the worry and concern scale.  Even though I’ve been doing this for years now, my sweet yet sheltered Mom is constantly thinking that I’m either going to be abducted by a cab driver or will get lost and not be able to find my way back to my hotel.  Seriously, am I the only one who sees the humor in this?  You would think I am a 12 year-old who got lost from their parents in a store or kidnapped at the bus stop!  Ma, if you are reading…relax.  Nothing is going to happen to me.  And if a sketchy situation presents itself, remember that I am a trained master in all of Mr. Miyagi’s best karate moves from watching ‘The Karate Kid’ so many times.  If danger approaches….HIII-YAAA!!!  That will teach ’em to mess with Mozziestar!  🙂

As far as the husband goes, he still in clueless land of trying to figure out why we are getting divorced.  Even though I have explained it to him countless times, it’s a bit like talking to a brick wall.  You talk and talk, but nothing gets through.  So, I stopped trying to explain in futility and hope that eventually, down the road, he will realize why our marriage failed.  If not, he will spend the rest of his life wondering what went wrong and how he played the starring role in it.  I do hope for his sake that this isn’t the case for him, but knowing his clueless and eternally blameless nature, I doubt he will ever figure it out.  

So friends, thank you sincerely for your continued support, faithful readership, and thoughtful comments and emails.  It means more to me than I could possibly express in words.  For me, inspiration is a two-way street.  I hope to inspire each of you to live your life to the fullest, but in the process, you inspire me as well.  Stay golden and keep shining. 



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Happy New Year?

Posted by mozziestarlet on January 5, 2009

While I was awaiting my turn in the nail salon this afternoon, I started to space out and think about how it’s 2009 and another year has come and gone before my eyes.  I began to recollect the day when I was 22 that my parental units told me how life would really start to fly for me now.  They explained how once you graduate from college, get married and settle down, secure your first professional job, etc., everything begins to zoom past you at lightening speed.  I remember shrugging at this notion, feeling invincible and forever young at 22.  Now, nearly 36, I completely understand what they meant by this.  I mean, wasn’t it just yesterday that we had this conversation?  Wasn’t it just last week that I graduated from college, degree in hand, ready to put that first foot out in front of me?  Where in the world has all the time gone and what do I have to show for it? 

Being pegged quite frequently as the eternal pessimist, naturally asking these sorts of questions usually lands me in a depressive stupor.  So, I choose to take an objective look in retrospect.  Yes, professionally I have done very well for myself in the past decade, despite the whirlwind storms of layoffs and rehires.  I’ve climbed the corporate ladder, one painful step at a time, and finally it seems, have a real opportunity with a dynamic and stable company.  I can only be thankful and grateful for that.  Personally, however, I’ve managed to do a bang-up job at marrying the wrong person (twice) and making a royal mess of things.  As Morrissey says, “It’s my life to wreck my own way.”  

When I look back on my relationships, yes, there were signs and things I did notice before saying ‘I do,’ but I chose to overlook them, even if it was often done on a subconscious level.  I thought that love could conquer all and that if I worked hard enough at the relationships, they would survive and endure.  After years of living this way, I finally owned up to the fact that it takes two to tango.  If you both aren’t equally committed to making one another happy, you will spin your wheels until there simply isn’t any steam left in your little engine.  I certainly have.

So, what now?  Well, I choose to close the chapter of 2008, and for once in my life, look forward to the new chapter ahead:  the chapter of 2009 and new beginnings.  A chapter where I will learn to stand on my own again, let go of the hurt and blame for my own and others’ failures, learn from my mistakes and endeavor not to repeat them, strive to be a better judge of character, and hope to always be a better friend and person.  But, most of all, to learn to forgive and forget.  I truly believe that it isn’t until we let go of the past that we can begin to embrace our future.

Happy New Year, friends.

Keep shining,  🙂



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Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 2003

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 29, 2008

The year was 2003 and it was two years before the husband and I took the proverbial ‘walk down the plank’ and became an official Mister and Missus.  At that time, the husband was living in a two bedroom apartment with his eldest son, and after giving it a whole two minutes of heavy consideration, the husband decided to adopt a dog in hopes to add a little joy and companionship to his routine.  Knowing that I had a sweet little dog who I carefully trained to not only be loyal, but incredibly affectionate, the husband enlisted my assistance in selecting the best canine candidate from the Humane Society to add to his household.  The trip to the Humane Society was a gutting one; cage after cage of precious little dogs who all want you to take them home with you and shower them with love.  I have to tell you that I think it’s wonderful when people choose to adopt or rescue an animal who would otherwise be facing certain euthanasia, but having to see this reality firsthand was not an easy thing for me.

So, we are at the Humane Society and I point out several medium-sized dogs that seem to have good temperments and no behaviorial issues.  Given that the husband is always correct and completely unflawed in his thinking, he argues that a large dog is best for him since that is what he ‘grew up with.’  Naturally, living in a two bedroom apartment with no backyard is a great living environment for a large dog that requires substantial exercise daily.  After no deliberation, the husband selects a lab mixed breed who is still just a puppy.  I take a look at the large size of the puppy’s paws and tell the husband, “You know, you might want to reconsider about getting a smaller dog.  This dog is going to be a giant and is still growing.  Not to mention, puppies require substantial training, discipline and attention.  They are full of energy and are a lot like babies in the beginning.”  The husband confidently replies, “Oh, I know plenty about dogs.  This one will do just fine.”

Knowing that the husband is as stubborn as a mule, I decide to give his dog selecting abilities the benefit of the doubt and keep my opinions to myself.  The husband then completes the necessary paperwork, puts the puppy in the car, and we head back to his apartment.  When we first arrive, the puppy is so excited by his new home; jumping, frolicking and sniffing every nook and cranny.  After giving the place a thorough look, the puppy then becomes interested in everything else that is cluttering the husband’s floor.  After only ten minutes in his new home, the puppy reveals that he is going to be quite a handful in terms of keeping him out of trouble.  I recommend to the husband that he purchase the puppy some appropriate chew toys and dog bed or crate so that the puppy can familiarize himself with his area and what is acceptable for him to play with in the house.  The husband responds, “Nah, I never bought my dogs toys before.  He’ll be fine without them.”  With this, I say goodnight to the husband and his new puppy before making my way back home.

The next day is a work day and I am scheduled to see the husband that evening directly after work.  So, I manage through an otherwise uneventful day at the office before signing off to head over to the husband’s place after work.  On my way there, I get a call from the husband on my cell.  He says, “You aren’t going to believe this, but I think I’ve been robbed!  I just got home and my place is completely destroyed!  I better go so I can call the police and report this.  I will see you in a little bit, ok?”  Naturally, I’m concerned and horrified for the husband and continue on my way over to his place.  After several mintues pass, the police arrive and the husband phones me to tell me he has not been robbed after all.  I’m confused by this and ask him, “Why?  What happened to make you feel otherwise?”  He responds, “Well, I noticed the dog is kinda hiding from me and has dirt on his face.  One of my plants has been knocked over in the living room.  You see, I wasn’t robbed.  It was just that damn dog that destroyed my apartment!  I’m gonna kill him!!!”


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Frolicking puppy

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 22, 2008

I just received this adorable link and had to share it with everyone.  There is nothing that touches me more than the innocent and loving spirit of animals and children.  Enjoy!

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The lights are on, but no one’s home

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 22, 2008

Firstly, let me apologize for the delay between Thursday’s blog entry and today’s.  I realize that I left so many of you hanging and I was stunned by the number of email inquiries jamming my inbox once I returned online.  To answer your burning questions…yes, I am still alive and kicking and yes, I had the third interview for the rockstar job opportunity on Friday.

To preface, I am a seasoned professional when it comes to being laid off in the corporate arena and then forced into the hell phase of endless interviewing for a new job.  Given this fact, I’ve become a bit convoluted in my judgment when it boils down to whether or not I feel I’ve got a job in the bag once I’ve completed the final interview process.  I’ve left many interviews with the gut feeling that I would receive an employment offer because of positive comments the potential employer made to me during the interview.  I would wait with baited breath for the offer to come and for some unknown reason, it never would.  So, I eventually got to the point where I stopped trying to ‘guesstimate’ whether or not I felt I would get the job.   I know this may seem like a negative way to think, but I’ve found that if you don’t expect anything, you’re not as deeply disappointed if it doesn’t pan out for you.  Nevertheless, my point in all of this is to say that the final interview went fantastic and I’m very hopeful that an offer will be made before the holiday break.  Do I expect one?  Yes and no.  Yes, because there is absolutely NO reason why they shouldn’t pick me for this position given how tailored my experience fits the niche they require.  And no, because of the expectation bit that I just explained in the prior sentences.  But, let’s just say that I hope to be pleasantly surprised for a change.

Since I’ve been temporarily taking refuge at the home of my parental units, I’ve purposely tried to distance myself from the husband so that he can familarize himself with the idea of not having me around.  I know that getting used to not having your spouse there is not entirely possible when you’ve spent years with them as the center of your universe.  When that center falls out, it completely disorients your entire reality.  Having been the one who was abandoned in my first marriage, I thought about why distancing myself from the husband is ultimately the best course of action for us both as we are going through this process.  When I reflect on my first marriage, I recall all too well what it felt like when my ex-husband told me he didn’t want to be married to me anymore, yet still hung around the house as if the declaration of his intent to bail shouldn’t affect my daily living pattern.  How can anybody think this way?!  This is the epitome of being a self-centered bastard who is thinking only of himself and his own comfort.  Telling your spouse that you desire to end your marriage, but staying in your residence with them during the process is the proverbial cherry on top of the cruel and unusual punishment cake.  If you have any love or compassion for your spouse and desire to inflict the least amount of collateral damage possible, then living in separate residences while you are getting divorced should be the only option.  It is the fastest route to self-reliance for both of you.

The ironic part about me purposely distancing myself from the husband is that he actually thinks that I’m being selfish by not calling him and keeping him company in his lonely state.  I mean, “I obviously don’t care (and have never cared)  about him if I am able to be remove myself so easily from our marriage.”  And yes, that’s a direct quote from the husband’s mouth.  He actually is dense enough to think that I’m allowing him to live in my home with my dog while I live with my parents because I “don’t care about him.”  After all, doesn’t everyone want to live with their parents when they are in their mid-30s and they’ve been independent for years?! 

So, when the husband makes these and other ridiculous and unfounded comments, I choose the path of least resistance and ignore them rather than respond to them.  When push comes to shove, what good comes from banging your head against a brick wall that can’t comprehend any measure of reasoning?  And this, in a nutshell, is the husband.  Yes, the lights are on, but no one’s home.


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Be hopeful

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 18, 2008

Well, this has been a hectic week to say the very least.  When I woke on Monday, I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing everything that is facing me presently.  When I actually allow myself to think about it longer than say thirty seconds, I find myself swimming in an ocean of despair.  So, I always try to put my  ‘happy happy, joy joy’ hat on and face the world  with the hope and mission of tackling my adversities.

I met with my attorney this week to sign the dreaded ‘D’ papers, and despite the fact that I know I am making the right decision for my long-term happiness, it is still a gut-wrenching process.  It doesn’t matter what circumstances led you to this precipice or how horrible your situation has become.  When you are sitting there, staring at the finality of your broken dream in black and white, it knocks the breath out of you.  You begin to reflect on the good times the two of you once shared, how you fell in love with your spouse, and the plethora of promises you made to one another when it seemed like you would conquer the world together.  I will always cherish these memories and despite my heartache from another failed marriage, I will hold on to the good times we shared.  This is the only way to move forward without becoming a victim to raging hostility and dislike of the other person.  Hating and blaming your spouse may seem easier for you to progress, but ultimately, the person who suffers the most from harboring this resentment is you.

To get back to my story, my week was off to a rocky start and I was certain that things could not get any worse than they currently are.  I found myself falling into the habit of holding a pity party for one, until I realized that absolutely nothing positive could arise from thinking and feeling this way.  I do have much to be thankful for and those are the things I should embrace now.  My wonderful and completely selfless family, my cherished inner circle of friends, and last but never least, my adorable snaggled-tooth puppy of 11 years.  Once I began to channel my negative energy into the positive aspects of my life, I received a call for a second interview for the most rockstar job I could ever dream of.  The company is fantastic, stable and profitable.  The job itself is an eerie match to my talents and 14 years’ experience in the industry.  When I went back to meet the rest of the team that I would be working with, I felt an instant rapport with them.  Not only were they incredibly bright and intelligent, but they each had such a great sense of humor.  Let me just say this…a sense of humor should be a requirement for the field in which I have worked all of these years.  It’s a high stress, demanding, visible position where you are held to a higher standard than most of your peers.  Without getting into too much detail, let’s just say that it’s a fairly niche type of position.  Not many people fit this role or have the patience (or talent) to truly do well.  Ironically, I fit this niche which has always made me more marketable in the job arena than many others with a more generalized background.  However, on the flip side of the coin, these type of positions are few and far between so it’s entirely up to you to sell yourself, your talents, your merits, and most of all, why they should select you above all other candidates.

So, I went into this second interview and did just that.  I didn’t hold back or allow myself to be too intimidated not to ‘toot my own horn.’  And the interview went off better than I could have expected.  When I put that first foot on the floor this morning, I felt hope swelling inside of me.  Hope that this fantastic opportunity will pan out for me, hope that I can conquer a new life on my own, hope that I can be around others who appreciate me for who I am rather than who they think I ought to be and hope for a more promising tomorrow.  After coffee this morning and a few nibbles to settle my growling stomach, I received a call from this company to return tomorrow for a final, third interview to meet the CEO and partners.  Naturally, I am thrilled beyond measure.

What is the moral of Mozzie’s story?  Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things…and a good thing never dies.


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Loved and lost

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 16, 2008

I’ve been thinking deeply these last few months about the old proverb, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”  I have to be honest and tell you that I really struggle with this notion.  When I look back over my life, I can say whole-heartedly…Yes, I have loved much and loved completely.  I have felt the joy that only arises from true love, the anticipation of spending every waking moment with that other person, and ultimately, the abject bliss of sharing the promise of spending the rest of your lives together.  However, having been through marriage twice now (I am so thrilled to admit), I honestly feel that marriage in and of itself is just that:  a promise.  It is a promise that you will love the other person utterly and completely with everything you are, respect them even when they aren’t at the top of your ‘likeable’ list, take care of them when they are sick and unable to care for themselves, and help shoulder the burden when your family of two falls on difficult times.  Above all, it is a promise of partnership; a vow that you will always contribute everything you can to the other person, your life together, and to your future.

My point with this elementary explanation is that if I am totally honest with myself, I’ve never experienced marriage as it should be.  In both instances, I gave more than I received, loved more than I was loved, and held on to that promise with more zeal and respect than the other partner involved.  So, by the most basic definition, I have loved and lost.  Many people I know often comment that I’m just ‘jaded’ by my experiences and that it isn’t like this for everyone.  Believe me, I know it isn’t.  I have family members who have sustained happy and fulfilling marriages longer than I have been on this earth.  Is there some great secret that they are aware of that I was never told?  Are they that much better judges of character than I am when it comes to choosing their life partner?  Or, did they just get ‘lucky?’  I think it’s probably a combination of these things and quite frankly, the idea of marriage for my generation is much different that it is/was for the generations before me.  Marriage wasn’t viewed as a potentially temporary situation where one party could bail if they got bored with the other person, thought they could get a younger and hipper model, or just simply got tired of being around them.  They realized that they were making a lifetime commitment to the other person and it was the most sacred covenant they could possibly ever make, perhaps other than parenthood.  But today, in our easy-come easy-go society, people are disposable and promises are made simply to be broken.  Nothing guts me more than this behavior.

I know many of you are thinking, “Wait a second, Mozzie, isn’t that what you are doing by divorcing your husband?  Aren’t you breaking your promise to him?”  I suppose on the surface, yes, I am.  But, it is so much deeper and more involved than that.  When I look back on my marriages, it wasn’t me who broke the promises.  It wasn’t me that vowed to be one way when we said “I do,” but ended up acting and living a life contrary to that.  I was the one who gave everything and sacrificed all that I was.  I was the one who fought tooth and nail to make the marriages work and for the other person to see what needed to be rectified in the relationship in order to have a happy life together.  I did all the praying, made all the counseling appointments, initiated all the talks, and pleaded for understanding from the other person.  And in both marriages, nothing was gained from my efforts but loss and heartbreak.  In both instances, I loved completely, and ultimately, lost everything.

So, is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?  I really can’t say at this point in my life.  Perhaps in ten years, I will feel differently and be able to answer unequivocally ‘yes.’  But right now, with so much loss consuming me, I simply don’t feel that it is.  Jaded?  Maybe.  Or maybe I just allowed myself to fall so deeply that I wasn’t able to see the whites of their lies.

And today, only one song will do…

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A ‘need to know’ basis

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 15, 2008

I spent the weekend with a  dear friend whose sense of humor and genuine support is a welcomed distraction from my current reality.  Perhaps what I like most about this friend is that they don’t bombard me with a littany of questions about my situation with the husband.  Yes, they are naturally concerned for my well-being, however, they almost seem to ‘know’ that I’m just not equipped to answer certain questions right now.  Does this make any sense?  Probably not, however, I will do my best to explain.

You see, being a private person, my innate instinct  is to keep my personal business to myself.  Even among my closest loved ones, I prefer to share what is necessary and keep the details to myself.  First and foremost, it’s really not anyone else’s business to know the intricasies of my life, daily routine and personal situation.  I’ve found that the more you ‘invite’ others into this space, the more crowded your reality becomes…eventually, too close for even your own comfort.  So, I share what I must to reassure my friends and loved ones that I am ‘okay’ and they need not worry about me 24/7.  I got myself into this situation and yes, I am working towards finding my way out.  I often find myself wondering why those closest to you feel the need to ask every little emerging question about your situation.  ‘What are you going to do?  Why can’t you kick him out?  When is he going to leave and why don’t you make him? What does he say to you when you talk?  Why did you marry him anyways? (Sheesh!)”…etc etc.  I do understand that these are reasonable questions, but why do others expect what they feel is an acceptable answer to these questions when I am unable and unwilling to address them?  How do they feel this scrutiny is helpful even in the slightest regard?

I suppose my point with all of this is that sometimes the greatest gift I can give a friend or a loved one is simply listening and being supportive.  This entails hearing what they have to say without opinion or judgment, and easing their mind by reminding them that they can still laugh without being overwhelmed by their current situation.  People have no idea what a gift this is to another soul who is struggling with divorce, death, or even life in general.  If a friend is troubled and seeks your advice or opinion, they will ask you for it.  Don’t assume that you have free liscense to inquire about the ins and outs of their personal situation or tragedy.  Trust me, your friend is having a difficult enough time navigating these waters on his own, searching for answers and understanding that often takes months and years to emerge.

So, for this particular friend to whom I am referring:  Thank you for being exactly what I need right now.  Thank you for listening without constant commentary.  Thank you for reminding me to laugh when I feel it’s impossible.  Thank you for expecting nothing more but what I am able to give.  Thank you for seeing me for who I am and not who you feel I ought to be.  And most of all, thank you for being my friend.


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Let the right one slip in

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 11, 2008

As you are all painfully aware,  I am navigating through a sufficient doo-doo storm right now in my life.  I am at the mercy of the legal system in terms of receiving an expeditious divorce, struggling to find a job, and living in between the parental units’ home, my home and the homes of several close friends.  Sometimes, I find myself infuriated and frustrated with the limbo land I’m currently in, but then I remind myself that getting upset and worried about it won’t change the situation or make it come to a conclusion any faster.  I  really do understand why many people, once they decide to reclaim their life after a horrible marriage, simply flee with a few items and leave the rest behind.  The idea of this is incredibly intoxicating and tempting at times, particularly when you feel like your life is in a constant holding pattern and it must be…it has to be…BETTER somewhere else.  The inherent problem with running away from your problems or situation is that the only thing that really changes is geography.  The residual effect of the problem from which you sought to escape tends to follow you to your new destination.  At least, in my case it seems this way.

So, I’m attempting to look at my current situation in a different way than I typically have in the past.  Yes, I want it to be over and I want to be happy again, but being patient (not complacent, however), is a vital requirement for your own sanity.  I try and tackle each day and the problems contained therein with a positive outlook and as an opportunity to learn something new about myself and what I want the remainder of my life on this earth to entail.  After giving this approach much thought, I think I’ve finally pinpointed what my personal keys to happiness are.  They may seem childish and rudimentary on the surface, but I feel they encompass a much greater good…a much better goal than obsessing about the impedending calamity of current events.

To answer your nagging question, yes, there are many things I want in my life.  Would I like to love again?  Certainly.  However, instead of premptively planning the future in my own mind, I choose to take each day as it presents itself.  By not setting expectations in your own psyche, you are much less likely to suffer from disappointment when those expectations fall short.  My keys to happiness  are to be the very best friend, sister, daughter, and person that I can possibly be.  In doing this and through sharing my own compassion and care with others, I know I will find the sense of fulfillment I’ve always searched for.  In essence, let go of past regret and welcome new opportunities and experiences.  As Morrissey says, “let the right one slip in.”

Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They cannot
They cannot
They cannot do what you want them to

Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They do not
They do not
They do not see what you want them to

Let the right one in
Let the old games fade
Put the tricks and schemes (for good) away

I will advise
Until my mouth dries
I will advise you to…
let the right one slip in
Slip in
Slip in

And when at last it does
I’d say you were within your rights to bite
The right one and say, “What kept you so long?”
“What kept you so long?”

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Mozziestar Flashback Entry: Senior year of high school, 1991

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 29, 2008


I found this relic in my English notebook from high school.  I don’t know why, but I find it so amusing.  The irony is that I am still the same girl, just older and hopefully, wiser now.  Enjoy…


5-21-91: “Assignment: What are some thorns in your side?”

Well, this should be an interesting assignment given that I’ve always considered myself to be ‘the girl with a thorn in her side.’  Here are just a few of the things that come to mind that truly bug me:

1. People

2. Myself

3. Noise

4. Dishonesty

5. Cruelty

6. Stupidity

7. No milk for breakfast

8. Sunshine in my bedroom at 7am on Saturday AND Sunday mornings

9. Betrayal

10. Accounting class

11. Country music

12. Obscenity

13. Rudeness

14. No clean underwear

15. Alarm clocks

16. Humid days

17. School

18. Life

19. Death

20. Women (come on, tell me I’m wrong!)

21. The forever ‘missing’ other sock

22. Toxic waste

23. Not enough time or paper to finish this list

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Thanksgiving additions

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 27, 2008

I couldn’t help but share these.  They are so beautiful and inspiring.  Love to you all and your families.  Oh Mozziestar, so much to be thankful for.  🙂

Keep shining,


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Tuesday poetry: Chicken soup for the soul

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 25, 2008


* All poems included here were written by Mozziestar and are protected under copyright law.



You have disappointed me

far more

than you have ever

loved me.




Each day that life presents

I remind myself

to be thankful;

Despite my heartbreak

and personal tragedy,

I know that beneath

the hysteria

a lesson exists to be learned,

and I must be brave enough

to embrace it.




True friends

are the sunlight of my days

and the solace

of my nights




We started as strangers,

sharing our stories

over a bustling crowd of flesh-eaters;

The booze flowed,

while the smoke from your cigarette

swirled about my face.

We laughed a lot,

between smiles and glances,

and after four hours of fleeting seconds,

I finally drove you home

without the courage

to stay behind.




You pleaded for those




to escape my lips

and so,

I gave them to you

along with several others –

I don’t love you anymore.



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Rainy days and Mondays

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 24, 2008

I woke up this morning and debated whether or not to write an entry today.  I’ve always subscribed to the notion that my parents taught me as a kid: “Now Mozzie, if you can’t say anything ‘nice,’ don’t say anything at all.”  I really do try and approach my life this way, as childish and rudimentary as it may seem.  The ‘thing’ is that most days I manage to survive relatively well.  I do my best to maintain a positive attitude, constantly reminding myself that there are so many others who are facing trials and adversities in their lives, but occasionally, I find myself thinking “Seriously, how much more crap can I take in my life?”  Today is one of those days.


Like the rest of America, I am having a horrible time trying to find a job.  I’ve sent out at least several hundred resumes, replies to job postings, inquires, etc. and absolutely nothing has come to fruition.  I wish this were the only troublesome thing facing me currently, but it’s not, by any stretch of the imagination.  I received my initial paperwork to file for divorce this morning, and even though I know it’s the ‘right’ decision to make, it felt like a virus sitting in my inbox.  Sort of like a written manifestation of yet another failure I’ve managed to accomplish in my thirty-five years on this planet.  And no, I’m not trying to hold a pity party on my behalf, but, when I look back at my life thus far, I’m amazed at how much misfortune and doo doo that I’ve had to endure.  Marriages flushed down the toilet at lightening speed, false friendships, betrayals, disappointments, and lay off after lay off after lay off.  Why does this continue to happen to me?  If I’m such a ‘good’ person, why do I have more than my fair share of pain and hardship? 


I cannot answer this question, despite how much I spin my wheels in futility.  I find myself sighing while thinking of Morrissey’s words, “Scavenging through life’s very constant lulls, so far from where I intended to go.”  Despite this, when I face trials and problems that feel insurmountable, I often look to The Bible for wisdom and understanding.  I realize that many view The Bible as a folk story or a collection of ancient ‘do good’ sayings.  I suppose, on the surface, it can be viewed as such.  But, I look at it from the standpoint of someone who suffered, yet overcame, the most unbelievable hardship and adversity that anyone possibly ever could.  This gives me comfort and somehow, gives me strength as well.


If difficult times serve to build character, then I am on my way to becoming a living personification of that ideal.  Will I look back on my life one day and say, “Oh, so THAT is why that happened?  I get it now.”  I certainly hope so.  There’s nothing worse than spending your life waiting for an absolution that will never come.  So, I won’t.  I’ll take each quandary as it comes and try and learn what I can from it.  And perhaps someday, I will understand.



“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
– Deuteronomy 31:8


“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
– Matthew 6:34


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I must be trippin’

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 22, 2008

5am:  I’m predictably awake and decide attempting to fall back asleep is as futile an effort as trying to launch the space shuttle from my backyard.  I creep downstairs, turn the heat up and start the coffee pot.  The kitchen is in its usual morning shambles, cluttered with the husband’s dirty dishes, pocket change, and empty soda cans.  I’m too groggy to begin my cleanup duties and instead decide to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie.  Gas, Food, Lodging’ is my morning movie of choice.


8am:  My puppy jingles downstairs, obviously aware that life is stirring on the floor beneath him, and wakes me from my catnap on the sofa.  I reach over to pet him, but he’s as regular as rain when it comes to his morning potty routine.  So, I scoot off the comfy spot and trudge to the back door to hook him to his lead to carry on with his business.  Several minutes pass and I realize that he hasn’t come scratching on the back door to be let back inside.  Naturally, I’m concerned so I open the door to the back patio and see his lead completely ensnared and entangled around the wheel of the garbage can.  I begin to fuss at him, as he always seems to accomplish something of this nature, but realize that I’m going to have to unhook him from the lead to get him free.  I silently debate this for a moment, knowing all too well the lightening speed escape that my puppy is capable of.  Seeing no other option, I unhook him and begin untangling the lead from the garbage wheel.  Within five seconds, my puppy has taken off faster than a bullet fired at close range.  I panic, as losing him in a moment of carelessness has always been my greatest fear in these eleven years.  I am immediately forced with a dilemma.  You see, my backyard is nearly a 90 degree slope, plummeting into wilderness and overgrown poison oak and ivy.  My neighbors all have barricades or fences surrounding their backyards, so crossing through them to retrieve my misbehaving puppy isn’t an option.  It’s either down the slope or nothing at all.


I take two steps very carefully down the dangerous slope before my right foot slides out from under me, and I begin my thunderous fall down the embankment.  I plummet head first into a rapid roll, only to be stopped by a gigantic pine tree that breaks my fall across my right cheek.  The thump of my face slamming into the tree’s bark sounds like a punch scene from ‘Rocky.’  I am completely disoriented, out of breath, and stunned that I have managed to yet again, be the most unlucky and uncoordinated person on the planet.  I briefly assess my injuries, grab my right cheek in utter pain and disbelief, and moan at the raw meat that is now hanging from my right arm and left calf.  Realizing I am still alive and on a mission to rescue my puppy, I manage to stand up with arms and legs wobbling from shock and injury.


I look two yards over and see my puppy, completely frozen in stature, having obviously watched this extraordinary event firsthand.  I make my way over to him and he doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even attempt a sniff or a probable getaway.  He realizes what has just happened and knows that he’s the guilty party that caused this whole calamity.  I pick him up in my shredded arm and carry him back to my back patio, not tempting fate by hoping he will return on his own.  I open the back door to the house and he makes a beeline upstairs and jumps into bed with the husband.  I walk into the bathroom to get the whole visual picture of what has just transpired.  My right cheek has an enormous red patch on it, likely to turn blue within hours, if not minutes.  The tender underside of my right arm is totally thrashed and shredded from sliding down the surface of the tree bark, and the pain is excruciating.  I wash my wounds, retrieve a frozen bag of peas from the freezer, and place it on my cheek.  As I recline on the sofa, I think to myself, “Someone out there must be filming my life.  They couldn’t write this into a series if they tried.  When will I receive my cut of the royalties?”


10am:  The red patch on my right cheek has grown into a large and dark spot now.  I look remarkably like someone has given me their best right hook punch.  As much as you are all inclined to believe that the husband inflicted this upon me, I can assure you that it was all my own doing.  And that, in and of itself, is the funniest and most ironic thing about the entire accident and most likely, about my entire weekend.





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Slip slidin’ away

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 20, 2008

9am:  I am stirred into consciousness by the sound of my dog tapping his paws and performing the ‘Curly Shuffle’ around the bed.  Poor little peach has to potty and Mama has overslept for the first time in weeks, perhaps months.  I drag one foot from the bed unto the floor, and then the other, rub my tired eyes, and make my way downstairs.  I can hear the husband’s congested snore emanating from the guest bedroom, as I imagine he’s dreaming about either the approaching of Armageddon or Woody Woodpecker.  Chances are, probably both. 

9:30am:  I sit down at my laptop, still painfully groggy, and begin to recall last night’s dream.  As you are well aware by now, dreaming is an activity I unknowingly participate in nightly, despite the fact that I’m rarely able to make any sense of it.  So, I frequently turn to the ‘experts’ for their professional guidance and opinion.  Last night’s dream was a doozie and I am still reeling in confusion.  I dreamt that I was a child again, in a large water park, surrounded by children with whom I spent my elementary school days.  Mind you, these are friends and faces that I have not seen or thought of in twenty-five years.  How they emerged in my dream, so vividly captured and recalled, beats the heck out of me.  The mind is an amazing sponge, indeed, and the irony of its power lies in its ability to ‘squeeze out’ memories from so long ago.

In my dream, I was an adult, as I am now.  My friends, however, were still children, perfectly captured in my mind’s eye as I still recall them.  We were slipping and sliding down a large waterslide, laughing and giggling throughout every twist and turn.  Given that I am far from a psychiatrist or therapist, I decide to consult the Dream Dictionary Doctors at to hopefully gain some insight.


To dream that you are on or see a waterslide, suggests that you are being swept away by your emotions. You are slowly exploring the realm of your unconscious. Alternatively, the dream suggests that you are going with the flow of things without any objections or resistance.


To see children in your dream, signifies your own childlike qualities or a retreat back to a childlike state. It is an extension of your inner child during a time of innocence, purity, simplicity, and a carefree attitude. You may be longing for the past and the chance to satisfy repressed desires and unfulfilled hopes. Take some time off and cater to the inner child within. Perhaps there is something that you need to see grow and nurtured. 

Wowzers.  Do these folks work for Dionne Warwick and her Psychic Friends Network or is it just me?  Despite these explanations hitting the proverbial nail on the head, I still ponder what my personalized response would be from The Dream Dictionary Doctors…

“Dear Mozzie, thank you once AGAIN for consulting The Dream Dictionary to identify the meaning of your childish, waterslide adventure.  Upon further analysis, it is our professional opinion that you are hopelessly trapped in 1983.  We recommend that you enter your nearest bathroom, take a look in the mirror, and reach the realization that you are thirty five years-old and are too big to go watersliding.  Youth may be wasted on the young, but you waste our time when the answers you seek are clearly in front of you.  Dry off, bid your childhood friends farewell, and take a step forward for a change.  If this effort fails, we have an immediate refferral on file on your behalf to the nearest mental health facility.  Just sayin’.  Best wishes for your eventual recovery, The Dream Dictionary Doctors.”

So, given this subliminal advice, I choose to step forward rather than backward and begin a new journey.  I may trip and stumble, and frequently lose my way, but the key is in staying the course.  What’s at the end of my journey?  Only time will tell.  Hopefully, acceptance, and most importantly, discovery.

“The past is not dead. In fact, it’s not even past.”


– William Faulkner, US novelist (1897-1962)


“If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.”


– Jane Austen, English novelist (1775 – 1817)


And today, only one song will do.  Enjoy…


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Morning has broken

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 18, 2008

When I awakened this morning, I felt overwhelmed by the intricacies of my current situation.  I immediately thought about all of the negative things working against me at present…being laid off during the worst recession, struggling to make ends meet, navigating the painful beginning steps of divorce, and feeling alone in the entire process.  At first, when I sat down at my laptop to write today’s entry, I thought I would vent some of this frustration.  I mean, everything definitely sucks for me right now, so why not get it off my chest so I can feel better about things?  Then, I opened my email and had a note from an ex-coworker that contained the message below.


You see, ‘Clueless VP’s’ wife has struggled with cancer for many years now, and despite their efforts in progressive treatment, they were unable to save her life.  Upon first reading this message, I almost felt a ting of satisfaction that someone who has wronged me is having something bad happen to them as a result.  This notion lasted for about thirty seconds until I realized that it wasn’t at all about me or my dislike of ‘Clueless VP,’ but about the loss of a wife, a mother, and a friend.  I began to cry as I thought about the two young sons left behind, facing the rest of their lives without the love and support that only a mother can provide.  How do others survive a loss like this?  How do they find the courage to carry on when they’ve lost their most prized asset?  I cannot begin to comprehend it.


All I know is that my problems, seemingly insurmountable to me at present, are but a grain of sand in comparison to what this family is enduring.  And somehow, my angst and feelings of ill will towards ‘Clueless VP’ seem childish and preposterous now…almost unfounded.  I suppose the moral of the story, if there be one, is that no matter what adversity you may currently face, there are others who face much more difficult trials and losses.  In order to grow as a person, you must surrender the pain, regret, feelings of ill will, and negative emotions and instead channel this energy into finding the greater good.  Realizing this is much easier said than done, I am my own harshest critic in this regard.  Nevertheless, this is how I will face each day in the future.  Release the guilt, blame, and regret and seek the good, the honorable, and the positive in everything.  This is my admonition and I encourage you to seek it as well.


I will leave you with the email note that started this entire train of thought.  And, as difficult as it may be for me to will this into practice, I must remind myself to always treat others the way I want to be treated, even when they have been unkind to me, for this is the greater good in life.  This is the ideal.

Dearest friends, 

My wife passed away this afternoon, very peacefully and without pain.  I was holding her hand and her best friend was by her side.  Her closest friends were at our home within minutes and all shared their goodbyes.  I have been most worried about our kids – lots of conflicting advice about how to handle things. After friends brought them home early from school, I took both of them into my oldest son’s room and told them that their mother had died. Both knew what I was going to say. We cried and held each other for a good long while.  Then, with their permission, we moved to the master bedroom. Their mother was on the single hospital bed where she had died facing away from us. The boys and I sat on our king bed, talking about their Mama and how we had been preparing for this day. We spoke of how things will change and how they will stay the same. The boys were very thoughtful and mature, all things considered. There were quiet moments infused with love and emotion.

I am glad that my children had this time with their mother. It felt the right level of connection with her, and among us, and I believe it will help with their closure. I feel certain that my wife would have been pleased by this.

We all knew this day was coming, but it is of course so very sad that it has arrived.

My deepest love to all of you.






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Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 1991

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 17, 2008

Today’s entry is a special and unique one.  You see, today, November 17th, is my precious Grandmama’s 90th birthday.  She is truly a remarkable gem of a mother, grandmother, sister, and friend.  She moved into an assisted living home several years back, and despite the heartache of leaving her home behind, she found and made a home there.  I was fortunate enough to spend my senior year of high school living with her in her small, rural Mississippi town of only 7,000 people.  What I discovered about this town is that it’s a living example of quality, rather than quantity, of people.  The year I spent with her was one of my happiest, by far.

So, without further ado, I like to share “Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 1991” with you all.  Enjoy and always remember to take every opportunity to show love to your loved ones.  Life is a fleeting breath at best, and we never know when that life could be extinguished.  As Morrissey says, “Sing your life!” After many years of repression on my part, I am finally singing mine.


9am: It’s Saturday morning and my Grandmama is peeking into my bedroom to see if I’m “awake yet.”  Like most seventeen year-olds, Saturday mornings are a cherished commodity for me filled with sleep, sleep, and more sleep.  I stir when I hear my bedroom door squeak open and see her smiling face through the crack.  She says, “I’m sorry, honey.  I didn’t mean to wake you, but I thought maybe you’d like to go with me to the pharmacy.  I need to pick up a few things.  Would you mind going with me?”  At first, I’m a bit grumpy for being awakened so early on the weekend, but I quickly shelve my selfish feelings and reply, “Sure, Grandmama.  I’d be happy to go with you.”


9:45am:  I’m in the bathroom preparing for a hot, steamy, wake-up shower and Grandmama is standing post outside the bathroom door, patiently waiting for me to hand over my undergarments for the wash.  What you must first understand is that my sweet Grandmama is an ‘A’ personality type.  She consistently sticks to her routine and refuses to allow any dirty clothes or dishes to amass, not that they even possibly could.  Naturally, this personality quirk often bugs me, but I soon adapt and realize it is simply her way of showing love and affection.  Without any request on my part, she faithfully cooks my dinner each evening, packs my lunch each morning, and bakes homemade treats for me and so many others.  She is deeply loved and cherished by numerous people, and I am no exception.


10:30am:  I’m dressed and ready to make the trek to the pharmacy with Grandmama.  Given her age and increasing frailty, I kindly offer to drive and open the passenger door for her.  One of the inherent beauties of her small town is that you can virtually get anywhere within five minutes.  There is no rush hour traffic, no honking horns, and only one fast food restaurant to visit.  When I first came to live with her from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta, I wasn’t sure I’d adapt too well to this environmental culture shock, but I did.  Not only did I adapt well, but, I went on to college the following year to Mississippi State University because I fell in love with the sincerity and goodness of the people there.  I stayed for three years until I transferred to a school back in Georgia that was better suited for English majors.  I realize that transferring to a school back home was a necessary evil to continue my education, however, I never lost the love and zeal for Mississippi.  Even to this day, twenty years later, I still yearn to return there.  I hope that someday, when the need to be in a metropolitan, job-intensive city isn’t required, I will move back there.  If home is where your heart is, my home is there.


10:40am:  Grandmama and I arrive at the pharmacy and make our way inside.  Naturally, it’s fairly busy being a Saturday morning, and Grandmama quickly spots and greets many familiar faces.  That’s another interesting aspect of a small town.  It isn’t easy to disappear or blend in there.  Given that Grandmama has lived her entire life in this rural town, she knows virtually everyone.  An innocent, twenty-minute trip to the pharmacy always results in a two-hour outing for her, which is fine by me.  We agree to split up briefly in search of our own personal items, and meet up twenty minutes later at the checkout counter.


11am:  Grandmama and I reconvene with our toiletries in hand near the front register.  Feeling the need to wear my “Instigator” hat as I often do, I decide to pull a prank on her.  She briefly meanders off to talk to a friend, and while she’s away, I quietly slip an economy-sized pack of condoms into her buggy.  I prepare myself for the cackling (on my part) that will soon emerge, carefully constructing a mental picture of her face when she discovers this foreign item.  After ten minutes, she returns to her buggy, with me standing beside it.  There are at least five people in front of us in line, and naturally, they all begin talking to one another as they are waiting.  I hold my breath silently, knowing it’s only a matter of time until another person spots what is in Grandmama’s buggy.  And then, just like the beginning of a beautiful opera, I notice the lady in front of us peering down into Grandmama’s buggy, completely stunned when she sees the pack of condoms.  The lady swiftly retreats in disbelief and abject horror, and my Grandmama says to me, “Huh, that’s weird.  She is usually so friendly.  I hope everything is okay with her.”  I sheepishly agree and reassure her that I’m sure she is fine, but most likely needs to get home to tend to her husband and children.  Grandmama shrugs in agreement and makes her way to unload her items on the counter.


As she’s stacking the items side by side, she picks up the box of condoms and stares blankly at them.  I watch in amusement, realizing that she’s having trouble discerning what the item actually is.  After a few minutes, the light blub turns on at a full 1,000 watts, and she looks at me.  She says, “How in the world did these get in here?  Are these what I think they are?”  Keep in mind, readers, that my Grandmama became a widow nearly eleven years prior and certainly didn’t seek a replacement for my amazing Grandfather.  Given this, condoms are the last thing she would readily recognize, let alone purchase.  I pause for a moment and respond, “Oh yeah, those are mine.  I really need them.  You don’t mind, do you?”  At first, she is puzzled and perplexed by my question, having been completely taken off guard.  She quickly replies, “Oh, good heavens, Mozzie.  I know you are kidding with me.  Aren’t you?”  I successfully maintain a serious façade and tell her, “What’s the matter?  I need them.  At least I’m being safe, right?”  She quickly arms herself with the ‘I’m gonna call your Mother’ expression, before I lose my composure and begin to laugh hysterically.  She is instantly relieved, knowing that I’ve once again succeeded in pulling her leg, and she begins to chuckle in return.  I pick up the box of condoms, place them back on the rack, and help her bag her items.  On our way back to the car, I cannot resist the urge to hug her.  As I open the passenger door for her, I quickly grab her and shower her with affection.  As always, she reciprocates, as she is never first to let go of a hug.  I adore her for this, and still do.


So, precious Grandmama, Happy 90th Birthday to you.  I wish I were there to celebrate with you, but my heart and soul are with you always.  Thank you for your kindness, your love, and your unfailing support.  You have selflessly contributed to the person I am today, and I am so grateful to you for it.  If, by some struck of luck or fortune, I happen to live to see my 90th year, I can only hope that I will have made such an impact on others as you have.  There could not possibly be any greater accomplishment.

With love from your granddaughter,




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A Saturday sprinkle to add to your Wheaties

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 15, 2008

Find a guy who calls you ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘hot,’ who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep.  Wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, and who thinks you’re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU. The one who turns to his friends and says, ‘that’s her.’
– Unknown

Just a few of my favorite quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson, US essayist & poet (1803-1882):


“Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far, so you shall come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.”

“The age of a woman doesn’t mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.”

 “God enters by a private door into every individual.”

“Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.”

 “Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.”




I adore this scene from the movie, “As good as it gets”…

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Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 2000

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 13, 2008

3pm:  I have two tickets to see one of my favorite bands, Apoptygma Berzerk, that evening but am without a date.  I’m in the process of divorcing my cheating husband #1, so my original plan of the two of us going to the concert together is now completely out of the question.  Scrambling around at the last minute, I decide to call in a big favor and phone my older brother to see if he’s feeling graciously dangerous.  After pleading with him for a bit, he decides to ‘show me the love’ and agrees to accompany me to the concert.  In order to understand this magnificent feat, I’ll relay some background information.  My older brother is very conservative and colors within the lines.  We are on opposite poles of the personality spectrum, but both have a love for music coursing through our veins.  Naturally, my taste in music is anything but popular with most and his is more traditionally safe.  Realizing this, I know what an extraordinary act of kindness he is bestowing upon me by agreeing to see Apoptygma Berzerk (APB) that evening.  APB is a cutting-edge, electronic band with thoughtful lyrics.  They tend to attract fans that keep step to the beat of a different drummer.  I am one of those people, in case you are just tuning in.

6pm:  I arrive at my brother’s house to begin our trip downtown for an evening I’ve been anticipating for months.  My brother greets me at the door, decked in his Izod shirt and khackis, sighs, and rolls his eyes at my attire.  To quote Depeche Mode, “She’s dressed in black again and I’m falling down again. But, oh what can you do when she’s dressed in black?”  My sis-in-law, a sweet and loveable wife and mother, chuckles before bidding us farewell.  My brother says, “Great.  We’re off to see Tigger goes berzerk.”  I playfully punch him in the arm and issue a ‘hardee harr harr.’

6:45pm:  We arrive at the concert venue, The Masquerade, and stand in line with the other oddballs as we wait for the doors to open.  I tend to blend in among this crowd, but my sweet brother stands out like a sore thumb.  He begins to fidget uncomfortably and says, “I’m gonna get killed here tonight, aren’t I?”  I laugh in response and say, “Well, I might have given some thought to the khakis, but I think you will manage just fine.”

7:15pm:  We make our way inside and begin to navigate our path to the concert hall.  If you’ve never been to The Masquerade, there are three levels: Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.  Heaven is the concert hall, Purgatory is the dancing floor, and Hell is the bar.  Talk about pure marketing genius!  They should have hired me, though I couldn’t have done a more bang-up job myself.  We decide to find a table and relax while the opening act warms up to perform.  My brother is squirming in his seat and says, “Um, yeah.  I’m gonna go get a pitcher of beer, ok?”  I smile and nod in return, silently ingesting the glorious atmosphere engulfing me. 

9:15pm:  Two hours have elapsed and my brother has successfully consumed three pitchers of beer.  I have no problem with this, realizing that everyone needs to let loose every once in awhile, and realize that his ‘buzz’ will make the concert tolerable, at the very least.  APB takes the stage in a blaze of glory and I am moved to my feet, dancing and twirling in a dazy haze of smoke and incense.  My brother is nursing a beer, laughs quietly at me, but seems happy to see me enjoying myself after so many months of navigating stormy seas.

10:30pm:  APB takes a brief intermission to allow us to catch our breath before the second set.  I sit down next to my brother and take a swig of icy cold Bass Ale.  As we are talking, a beautiful girl approaches our table.  She looks at me and says, “Hi.  I just wanted to tell you that you have the most beautiful face, truly.  What kind of makeup do you use?”  I am touched by her kindness and we begin to chat, while my brother makes his way back to the bar for a refill.  While he’s away, she and I hit it off and she asks if maybe we can hang out sometimes.  When my brother returns, she briefly steps away to reconvene with her friends, and he has a concerned and perplexed look on his face.  I look at him and say, “What’s wrong?  You ok?”  He responds, “Geez, Mozzie, that girl is totally hitting on you.”  I cackle in disbelief and assure him that he is mistaken, but he continues to try and convince me.  I say, “Well, there’s only one way to find out.  I will ask her.”  My sweet older brother, a true pacifist by nature, looks like he’s in the first stage of cardiac arrest.  I motion for the pretty girl to come back to our table and she quickly returns without hesitation.  I say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”  She graciously nods in agreement and says, “Well, of course!”  I take a deep breath and respond, “Are you gay?  I tend to be oblivious to these things, so I just thought I’d ask.”  Lord, have mercy…my brother is about to launch out of his seat in embarrassment and fear at my boldness and direct line of questioning.  The girl grins sheepishly and says, “Yes, I am.  Aren’t you?”  I politely smile and respond, “No, hun.  I’m not.  Sorry.”  She purses her lips and says, “Hmm…my loss.”

12:30pm:  We make our way out to the car to begin the trek back home to surburbia.  My brother is relatively silent, leaving me to bask in the afterglow of my evening with APB.  I will never forget this night or this concert.  My brother walked on the razor’s edge, a pretty girl attempted to boldly go where no girl has gone before, and I made a lasting memory.  Not a bad way to spend an evening.

“Music is the art which is most nigh to tears and memory.” 

 ~ Oscar Wilde

“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” 

 ~ Berthold Auerbach

“Kathy’s song” by Apoptygma Berzerk…

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We hate it when our friends become successful

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 12, 2008

Yesterday was a busy and emotionally draining day, but, I took a big step forward in the quest to reclaim my life.  My legal counsel says that given the circumstances of my case and my ‘bad’ husband, the process should be simpler and more expeditious than most.  Despite the approaching calamity, I do take comfort in that.  Thankfully, I have a sturdy umbrella of family and friends who support me in riding out the storm.

This morning, I paid a visit to my former office to sign several documents releasing my whopping two-week severance package.  The office had an eerie silence and is nearly vacant now, having laid off the majority of the people who were doing all the work.  After my obligatory meeting with HR, I begin to make my way down the hallway to the exit.  Predictably as ever, ‘Deer in headlights’ spots me and runs up to throw her unwelcomed hug around my shoulders.  She says, “OMG.  It’s SOOO good to see you!  You have no idea how much we all miss you.  How’s it going?  Good?”  I manage to repress my utter disgust with her false concern and politely respond, “Things are good.  I am hanging in there, thanks.”  She stares at me, obviously dazed and confused, expecting me to share my sob story and personal tragedy with her.  I am a private person by nature, yet despite this, I would never give her the pleasure of knowing any personal details of my life.  Even if I did tell her, she would require Cliffs Notes to decipher the meaning.

Almost to a clear getaway, ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ sees me in the hallway and rushes up to greet me.  I almost don’t recognize her at first glance.  In my absence, she has undergone an extreme makeover and looks fantastic.  I hug her and compliment her on her newly transformed look, and she smiles from ear to ear.  Bless her heart.  In her case, the lights are on, but no one’s home.  Despite this, she is a kind-hearted woman and with the help of a beautician, is now ‘Sixty and Smokin’ too.

Before departing, I peek into ‘Mack the Knife’s’ office for a surprise visit.  He is naturally happy to see me, as he is now left alone to navigate the shark-invested office waters.  We talk for a bit and he tells me, “Boy, do I have some stories to tell you.  Maybe we can meet for lunch next week?”  I graciously accept his invitation and tell him that I will be certain to bring my notepad and pen to gather writing material.  Thankfully, I am not part of that office environment anymore, however, I do keep in contact with the few there who are genuine comrades.  As Morrissey says, “Hold on to your friends.”

As I make my way to the elevator and say goodbye to my pregnant ex-coworker, ‘The Stomping Bean’ passes us in the corridor.  He has an annoyed look on his face, most likely due to my presence there, but says hello before he enters the men’s restroom.  I sigh at his blatant disrespect and predictable lack of concern on my behalf.  As I walk out to my car and into the parking lot, a particular Morrissey song springs to mind, ‘We hate it when our friends become successful.’  So, on that note, I will leave you with Mozziestar’s slightly tweaked lyrical version of this classic song.  The video posted at the end of this entry is the actual song by Morrissey.

‘We hate it when our friends become successful’ (lyrics by Mozziestar)

”We hate it when our friends become successful.
Oh, look her clothes,
Now look at her face, it’s so old,
And such a crummy blog,
Well, it’s really laughable,
Ah hahahaha…
We hate it when our friends become successful,
And if she’s southern,
That makes it even worse now.
If we can destroy her,
You bet your life we will destroy her.
If we can hurt her, well, we may as well.
It’s really laughable,
Ah hahahaha…
They say, ‘it should have been me,
It could have been me.
Everybody knows, everybody says so.’
They say, ‘Oh, she has loads of talent,
So much talent,
More talent than we can stand.

Just read her blog…’
Ah hahahaha…”

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Time marches on

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 11, 2008

A note from Mozziestar:  “New readers:  Many of you have stumbled upon my blog mid-story and are confused as to the order of events.  When you view the blog, the most current entries are on the main page.  I always write the blog one day after events in my life unfold, so hopefully that will clear up any confusion.  Please click on ‘Archives’ to begin with the first entry from September if you have just tuned in.  Flashback entries are woven into the mix.”

Today, I received an email from my 11th grade AP English teacher that I mentioned in the entry “Time stands still.”  I’ve posted the link to that entry below, in case you may have missed it.  Her email response is listed below the link.

“My goodness, Mozzie!  I am in tears as I read your fabulous writing.  I am glad that I waited until today to read your blog.  I needed to be uplifted – You saved my soul today.
Thank you, little angel.”


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Monday morning revelations

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 10, 2008

On Saturday evening, the husband’s youngest son (11 years young), phones him after six months of successfully avoiding his father.  The husband is stunned, as his last conversation with his son amounted to his son not wanting him in his life anymore.  His son is terribly bright, knowing that his dad is a worthless father and that he will never measure up to what a father should be.  Nevertheless, he’s still a young boy and believes in the goodness of hope.  I believe in it too.  As Tim Robbins’ character says in the movie ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ “Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things, and a good thing never dies.”  I couldn’t agree more.

After talking a whopping ten minutes to his son, the husband promises him he will call him again tomorrow and arrange a time for them to see each other on Monday.  Later that evening, his son phones my cell and tells me how much he misses me.  He says, “I really wish I could see you too.  You are so nice.  You’re like the father I’ve never had.”  I am touched, but know I am not a replacement for an absent father, nor should I be.  I tell him how sweet he is and that I am always thinking of him.  He chuckles an innocent, childish laugh and says, “I love you” before hanging up.

Sunday arrives and the husband has been sleeping all day in his recliner.  I try to remain uninvolved in these matters, but I’m silently stewing knowing that the day is drawing to an end and the husband has yet to honor his promise to his son.  I kick the footrest on his recliner, waking him, and tell him to call his son.  He says, “Oh, thanks babe.  I almost forgot.”  I think to myself, ‘Yep.  Naturally and as predictably as ever.’

The husband tells his son that he will come and take him fishing at 10am on Monday morning and that they can spend the afternoon together.  Obviously, the little fella is excited at the notion of spending time with his dad and graciously accepts.  Monday morning arrives and I trot downstairs at 9:45 to find the husband on Mapquest trying to find directions to his ex-wife’s home.  I am infuriated that he’s procrastinated and now will be late to see his son, after making such a heartfelt promise to be there by 10am.  Realizing that he is a dumbass and incapable of deciphering exact directions, the husband phones his ex-wife and says, “Uh, damn.  Ya’ll sure do live far away. Can you tell me how to get there?”  Naturally, she is livid.  Once again, the husband has sloughed off and broken another promise.  I hear her voice gradually amplifying on the phone, while the husband tries to make excuses and shift the blame to her.  After a few minutes, she tells him to get his ass in gear and come see his son.  The husband shuffles out the front door, grumbling and issuing threats to her, and is on his backwards way.

Several minutes pass and his ex-wife phones me.  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not like most women or wives.  I’m not petty, I don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong, and I listen to all sides.  She and I have always gotten along because she knows I’m a good person and want only the best for her and her son.  She sees that in me and respects me for it.  I respect her for raising her son with little or no help from anyone else.  She deserves kudos for that.  I recommend to her that she steer clear of the husband as he is always looking for a scapegoat for his own failures and shortcomings.  She agrees and thanks me for being such a good person and for understanding.  I tell her I understand perfectly and always have.  We politely say goodbye, but before she hangs up, she says, “You know, Mozzie.  I always keep you in my prayers.  There’s a special place in heaven for people like you.”  I thank her for her kind words and respond, “Well, I believe there’s a place in heaven for everyone.  It’s just a matter of living up to it and not losing sight of your seat.”

So, what’s the moral of the story?  Always treat others the way you want to be treated.  In giving love, kindness, and respect, you shall also receive.


And just to answer the burning question that so many of you have, yes, I am working steadily on removing the husband from my life.  I am pursuing all avenues and exhausting all resources.  Hopefully, this effort will be fulfilled sooner than later.  I will keep you posted…pinky swear. 😉


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Today was Sunday and Sundays are always bad

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 10, 2008

These are a few of my favorite poems by Peter McWilliams, a famous writer with whom I was fortunate enough to exchange emails before his death in 2000.  As a writer, there is nothing more rewarding than knowing that your words have touched the hearts and minds of others.  Fame and fortune are but secondary and tertiary, and often happen without desire or ambition.  Below is a brief excerpt of Peter’s philosophy on ‘creative things.’  In a nutshell, he believed they are to be shared.  I hope to follow in his footsteps, and in doing so, celebrate his contributions.

“Creativity stimulates the creators and entertains everybody else. The vast majority of people need to be entertained. God bless them every one. Creative people, however, need to be stimulated, inspired, nudged, cross-pollinated, and occasionally kicked in the ass. Art both entertains and inspires at the same time.

These are your poems.  I only wrote them down.”

– Peter McWilliams

Although my
nature is not to
live by day,
I cannot
tolerate another
night like this.
I will wake up
tomorrow morning and
do do do
all day long,
falling asleep
exhausted tomorrow
early evening,
too tired
even for


I’d have a nervous breakdown,
I’ve been through
this too many
times to be


This season is called
because everything
nature builds
all summer long
Like our love.


She asked me if seeing
you was a drain.
Seeing you is not a drain.
It’s a sewer.


In Memoriam…


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A cackle a day keeps the grumpy away

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 9, 2008

Your daily dosage of all-temperature cheer…Enjoy and keep shining! 🙂

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad boss, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, children, co-workers, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, Dogs, family, friendship, Funny, Humor, Irony, kindness, laughter, Life, Love, Marriage, marriage problems, Morrissey, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, poetry, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

What is the nicest thing you’ve done lately?

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 8, 2008


I’ve temporarily shelved my “Instigator” cap and have switched gears.  Today’s challenge: “What is the nicest thing you’ve done recently either for a loved one or a stranger?”  This doesn’t have to be an enormous thing.  In fact, often the kindest gestures arrive in small packages.

As Morrissey says, “Such a little thing, a fumbling politeness; Oh, the difference saved me.”

Please share your random acts of kindness in the “Comments” section below.

Hold on to your friends,

Mozziestar  🙂

“Such a little thing makes a big difference” by Morrissey…

My favorite scene from the movie “While you were sleeping.”  Fast foward to 7:50 on the clip

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad boss, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, children, co-workers, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, Dogs, family, friendship, Funny, Humor, Irony, kindness, Life, Love, Marriage, marriage problems, Morrissey, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, poetry, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments »