Seriously, stop being such a douche.
You were my best friend. I have yet to find another person who can come close to the friendship we had. You need to let your pride go. I did, a few times if you didn't notice. You fucked up, then I fucked up and now that is all way in the past.
I didn't let you get away with whiny bullshit then, and I'm not going to now. Idk if you've ever tried to reach me because I had to get my own phone and Sprint wouldn't let me take my number. So it's different now.
Did what we have mean so little to you that you don't even care enough to talk to me?
Are you just the male stereotype and now you are done with me since you got what you were really after?
The answers better be NO.
What part of "Best Friend" don't you understand?
I await your response, preferably on Facebook because that's all I really ever check. :P
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Saturday, May 19, 2012
I Gotta Work It
I started a new job this past Monday. I am a temporary receptionist for a major pharmaceutical company. My first week went by pretty fast, but I'm still trying to figure out the scope of my responsibilities. Some of the people there have no patience for my lack of knowledge. A lot of different things go through me, but at first I didn't even know they were my responsibility. Naturally people got frustrated, but so was I.
I have higher self confidence. This job is a major pay increase. With my hourly rate and the number of hours I have, I am quadrupling my monthly income. That's huge. I feel like less of a burden. Everyone (almost) is so proud of me. I don't want to let anyone down. This is a huge opportunity and I'm afraid that I won't get hired or my contract extended at the end. It might seem silly to aspire to hold down a receptionist position, but this is like my big break. I could actually go back to school and pay off my debt. I could have a car that starts and stops.
I have higher self confidence. This job is a major pay increase. With my hourly rate and the number of hours I have, I am quadrupling my monthly income. That's huge. I feel like less of a burden. Everyone (almost) is so proud of me. I don't want to let anyone down. This is a huge opportunity and I'm afraid that I won't get hired or my contract extended at the end. It might seem silly to aspire to hold down a receptionist position, but this is like my big break. I could actually go back to school and pay off my debt. I could have a car that starts and stops.
Nobody's Perfect
I know it sounds selfish that I want people to be proud of me. I never felt the need to impress anyone, but when you are there for someone through their drama and successes you expect it back. That's called friendship. So when I got this new job that was a really big deal to me, I thought that certain people would be interested and supportive. I was wrong. It's like it doesn't even register to them that this is a big deal. Not all of us want to be famous. I don't need my ego fluffed, I just want a reciprocal friendship. I don't think that's a lot to ask. Especially since I coddle people's emotions all the time. Maybe I don't need to coddle them. Maybe if I stop they will see there are other people in the world with goals and feelings. Just because those things are different doesn't mean they are wrong, either.
I am really enjoying this new job, but it's like my house fell apart while I was there. No one did any dishes for a week. Not one. The dishwasher doesn't work if you don't turn it on. No one cleaned anything. I work 7 days a week now and I'm not going to have the time or energy to clean constantly like I did before. It might not have even looked like I was, but I was. It's part of growing up that you have to contribute to your little group. I don't understand why it's only me doing these things.
I feel like a burden when I have to get a ride to or from work, but I do some dropping off and picking up too. Then I come home and do a week's worth of dishes and laundry all the while fuming about the lack of recognition or interest.
I'm worth something. I contribute. I try so hard and I feel like no one gives a shit.
Instead of being proud of me for getting a job I worked hard to get, it's like everyone just sees it as a lower expense for them.
I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.
I am really enjoying this new job, but it's like my house fell apart while I was there. No one did any dishes for a week. Not one. The dishwasher doesn't work if you don't turn it on. No one cleaned anything. I work 7 days a week now and I'm not going to have the time or energy to clean constantly like I did before. It might not have even looked like I was, but I was. It's part of growing up that you have to contribute to your little group. I don't understand why it's only me doing these things.
I feel like a burden when I have to get a ride to or from work, but I do some dropping off and picking up too. Then I come home and do a week's worth of dishes and laundry all the while fuming about the lack of recognition or interest.
I'm worth something. I contribute. I try so hard and I feel like no one gives a shit.
Instead of being proud of me for getting a job I worked hard to get, it's like everyone just sees it as a lower expense for them.
I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.
I'm worth something.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Yo No Se
Ok, so I've been having a rough week. It's kind of been up and down, but things have leveled off. I've done a lot of cleaning, cooking and baking. A bit of meddling too, which I'm not proud of. When you see a bunch of people wandering aimlessly through traffic, you do what you can to help.
In the last few days I've made:
I owe approximately $2,650 to the hospital and doctors who performed my surgery. That's more than a third of what I make in a year right now. I should get used to cooking at home because I can't afford to get pre-made food or eat out. I put the first check in the mail today. I wish I had a way to supplement my income a little. I think I could probably sell jams pretty easily, but in Illinois they have to be sold at a farmer's market. That kind of narrows down my access to customers. People who shop at a farmer's market are easily capable of making their own jams. My house isn't nice enough to babysit in. I'm not that great at sewing clothing. I don't have my own car. I need to brainstorm...
In the last few days I've made:
- lasagna
- garlic bread
- oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
- red velvet cupcakes
- cream cheese frosting
- roasted red potatoes
- mashed potatoes
- burgers
- and tonight, a meatloaf
- also, salad
I owe approximately $2,650 to the hospital and doctors who performed my surgery. That's more than a third of what I make in a year right now. I should get used to cooking at home because I can't afford to get pre-made food or eat out. I put the first check in the mail today. I wish I had a way to supplement my income a little. I think I could probably sell jams pretty easily, but in Illinois they have to be sold at a farmer's market. That kind of narrows down my access to customers. People who shop at a farmer's market are easily capable of making their own jams. My house isn't nice enough to babysit in. I'm not that great at sewing clothing. I don't have my own car. I need to brainstorm...
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Don't Let Me Get Me
So my last post was really emotional. I don't think there is anything wrong with that. I would like to say that I'm trying to deal with these new emotions and so far it hasn't been very successful. I don't know anyone who has dealt with something similar and I have no experience with this either. Up until this point I've had a fairly clean bill of health.
Now all I do is question everything and everyone. Now that my future is fuzzier than ever, what else has changed? Maybe my relationship isn't what I thought it was or maybe I'm crazy. Maybe my family isn't what I thought it was. My friends are far away and stressed out enough with their own lives. How am I supposed to vent about my quarter life crisis?
My first instinct is to flee. I've been moving from house to house my entire life so maybe I feel like I need a fresh start. Maybe if one thing is changing in my life it gives me an excuse to act irrationally to change everything else. I think I just need reassurance. That there is someone in the universe whose happiness relates to mine. Someone whose kisses feel like love, not obligation. Someone who listens to my frustrations with empathy instead of defensiveness. Someone who holds me at night because they want to not because I've asked. I want to be someone's first choice before everything else in spite of my craziness and defectiveness. I want to look into someone's eyes and see they think I'm something else, something special. I need someone to save me from myself.
Now all I do is question everything and everyone. Now that my future is fuzzier than ever, what else has changed? Maybe my relationship isn't what I thought it was or maybe I'm crazy. Maybe my family isn't what I thought it was. My friends are far away and stressed out enough with their own lives. How am I supposed to vent about my quarter life crisis?
My first instinct is to flee. I've been moving from house to house my entire life so maybe I feel like I need a fresh start. Maybe if one thing is changing in my life it gives me an excuse to act irrationally to change everything else. I think I just need reassurance. That there is someone in the universe whose happiness relates to mine. Someone whose kisses feel like love, not obligation. Someone who listens to my frustrations with empathy instead of defensiveness. Someone who holds me at night because they want to not because I've asked. I want to be someone's first choice before everything else in spite of my craziness and defectiveness. I want to look into someone's eyes and see they think I'm something else, something special. I need someone to save me from myself.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Tonight
So I have PCOS. I recently had surgery to remove a cyst outside my right ovary. I was so scared. Up until a few days before, I thought it was going to be no big deal. They do this all the time. As the day drew near, not even those thoughts could relax my restless anxiety.
I think the surgery made the reality of my life more clear to me. I'm damaged goods. It wasn't enough that I was already a husk of a person, but now I am literally, physically damaged. I have the scars to prove it. It could potentially be very difficult for me to have children. I was born to have kids. It's who I am. I know it. Everyone who knows me knows it.
So now, if I ever want to settle down and get married it will have to be with a person who can reassure me that I'm not alone when I almost constantly feel overwhelmingly alone. On top of that, they will have to be ok with the fact that I might never be able to conceive and carry a child. Which means he would have to be cool with either never having kids or adoption. I guess men who are ok with adoption are exceedingly rare.
Which makes me feel more alone.
It's not fair for me to assume that my boyfriend knows I feel this way. I don't say it out loud. It's not fair for him to choose video games/tv/movies over me either. I don't think I could make it any more clear that I feel like he doesn't love me very strongly. So now, after all this stuff, I'm scared I will really be alone. I want him to love me like I love him so badly. I want him to see the pain I'm in and be empathetic. I want him to want to be spend time with me like I want to spend time with him because it might just be the two of us forever.
I'm crying silent tears right now. While he plays video games downstairs. I don't want to tell him because I don't want to be needy. I just feel broken.
I think the surgery made the reality of my life more clear to me. I'm damaged goods. It wasn't enough that I was already a husk of a person, but now I am literally, physically damaged. I have the scars to prove it. It could potentially be very difficult for me to have children. I was born to have kids. It's who I am. I know it. Everyone who knows me knows it.
So now, if I ever want to settle down and get married it will have to be with a person who can reassure me that I'm not alone when I almost constantly feel overwhelmingly alone. On top of that, they will have to be ok with the fact that I might never be able to conceive and carry a child. Which means he would have to be cool with either never having kids or adoption. I guess men who are ok with adoption are exceedingly rare.
Which makes me feel more alone.
It's not fair for me to assume that my boyfriend knows I feel this way. I don't say it out loud. It's not fair for him to choose video games/tv/movies over me either. I don't think I could make it any more clear that I feel like he doesn't love me very strongly. So now, after all this stuff, I'm scared I will really be alone. I want him to love me like I love him so badly. I want him to see the pain I'm in and be empathetic. I want him to want to be spend time with me like I want to spend time with him because it might just be the two of us forever.
I'm crying silent tears right now. While he plays video games downstairs. I don't want to tell him because I don't want to be needy. I just feel broken.
Friday, April 20, 2012
I'll Pick You Up, Darling
Yesterday, I finished the book The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. I was just as spectacularly written as the first. I couldn't put either of them down. Enthralling.
Which is good and bad.
The good part is that Mr. Rothfuss has written a truly entertaining book. The bad part is I'm left to figure out what to read next. I'm tempted to reread a fantasy series I read a few years ago even though I know I have books on my shelves I haven't read yet. I think I'm just in a well-written-fiction kind of mood. I want to read books that use the phrase "supple leather" rampantly in reference to boots. I want to read about a world where archery is pretty normal. Which means rereading.
I'll tell you why it means rereading. I have a voluptuous collection of books. More than anyone I regularly speak to. There is quite a variety of styles I enjoy. Memoirs. Fantasy. Mystery. Trashy. I'm in a mood for fantasy but lack a person to make me a recommendation. So I'm left to either peruse a bookstore and hope I come out with something worthwhile, trust a stranger's opinion, reread or take a break from reading until my mood for fantasy passes and I can read something else. Russell Brand's memoirs are sitting on my shelf collecting dust.
It could be that Kvothe has ruined me for all other men.
Which is good and bad.
The good part is that Mr. Rothfuss has written a truly entertaining book. The bad part is I'm left to figure out what to read next. I'm tempted to reread a fantasy series I read a few years ago even though I know I have books on my shelves I haven't read yet. I think I'm just in a well-written-fiction kind of mood. I want to read books that use the phrase "supple leather" rampantly in reference to boots. I want to read about a world where archery is pretty normal. Which means rereading.
I'll tell you why it means rereading. I have a voluptuous collection of books. More than anyone I regularly speak to. There is quite a variety of styles I enjoy. Memoirs. Fantasy. Mystery. Trashy. I'm in a mood for fantasy but lack a person to make me a recommendation. So I'm left to either peruse a bookstore and hope I come out with something worthwhile, trust a stranger's opinion, reread or take a break from reading until my mood for fantasy passes and I can read something else. Russell Brand's memoirs are sitting on my shelf collecting dust.
It could be that Kvothe has ruined me for all other men.
About a Girl
Recently, my sister dyed my hair. Somehow after nearly 3 years of trying, I have finally settled on a color I love. My natural one.
The first time I dyed my hair was ill advised. I tried for blonde and then got talked into these preposterous highlights. I was going through some huge changes in my life and I think this was one of the manifestations of that. Since then, I tried going back to natural only to dye again. I did have something kind of red going for a while too.
So I decided I was fed up with the seesawing and had my sister dye the colored part of my hair as close to natural as we guessed we could using drugstore dye. It worked. It is (almost) perfectly matched. You could only tell the difference if you were looking for it.
That is symbolic for my feelings about my life right now, but I won't say why. :P
The first time I dyed my hair was ill advised. I tried for blonde and then got talked into these preposterous highlights. I was going through some huge changes in my life and I think this was one of the manifestations of that. Since then, I tried going back to natural only to dye again. I did have something kind of red going for a while too.
So I decided I was fed up with the seesawing and had my sister dye the colored part of my hair as close to natural as we guessed we could using drugstore dye. It worked. It is (almost) perfectly matched. You could only tell the difference if you were looking for it.
That is symbolic for my feelings about my life right now, but I won't say why. :P
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Shadows Pass Her By and Out of Sight
You know what? You can fuck off if you think I'm not worth it. You aren't a man. You are a coward. Why has it taken me so long to figure it out? Years of being let down. Decades of taking the backseat.
I've never looked at you the same way since I found out I was a mistake. You told me that it didn't change the way you felt about me. You loved me. You wanted me. So why has it never felt like that? Any real man would have taken my side. Any real man would show an interest. Any real man would show up.
You know what? A real man did. He didn't have to, but he has been there for me since I was a little girl. He taught me long division. He coached my softball team. He took care of me. Where were you? Yeah he has fucked up a few times, but you have been fucking up my psyche for 22 years. You are why I can't trust people. You are why I'm so critical.
You would think that after your father died you would see our relationship with new eyes. Not really. It's all about you, isn't it? You don't think about me.
You don't think about me. I cry about you.
I've never looked at you the same way since I found out I was a mistake. You told me that it didn't change the way you felt about me. You loved me. You wanted me. So why has it never felt like that? Any real man would have taken my side. Any real man would show an interest. Any real man would show up.
You know what? A real man did. He didn't have to, but he has been there for me since I was a little girl. He taught me long division. He coached my softball team. He took care of me. Where were you? Yeah he has fucked up a few times, but you have been fucking up my psyche for 22 years. You are why I can't trust people. You are why I'm so critical.
You would think that after your father died you would see our relationship with new eyes. Not really. It's all about you, isn't it? You don't think about me.
You don't think about me. I cry about you.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
I Think I Wanna Marry You
If one more person accidentally refers to my boyfriend as my fiance I may lose it. He has NOT put a ring on it. We've been together for 2 1/2 years and we live together and we are in love, but we aren't engaged yet. Would I be opposed to it? No. Am I clamoring for it to happen? No.
I'm happy. I get to wake up every morning with him sleeping next to me. He has this blue mouthguard that I make him use, and he looks like a little baby when he is asleep. He knows when I wake up and he will roll over and cuddle me in his sleep. He does little cute things that he doesn't realize he is even doing. He has this manly factor where he takes care of me, but sometimes he's a little tiny bit sensitive. If I refuse to sleep with anything more than a sheet, he'll put a comforter on me once I'm asleep.
My family nearly demands that he be at every holiday and family event. Even my sister likes him. Not easy. So I'd be happy to be married one day soon or not so soon. These Freudian slips are just freaking me out. It's up to us when we get married, and I don't think I need to be impatient about it. I'm only 22 for fuck's sake!
I'm happy. I get to wake up every morning with him sleeping next to me. He has this blue mouthguard that I make him use, and he looks like a little baby when he is asleep. He knows when I wake up and he will roll over and cuddle me in his sleep. He does little cute things that he doesn't realize he is even doing. He has this manly factor where he takes care of me, but sometimes he's a little tiny bit sensitive. If I refuse to sleep with anything more than a sheet, he'll put a comforter on me once I'm asleep.
My family nearly demands that he be at every holiday and family event. Even my sister likes him. Not easy. So I'd be happy to be married one day soon or not so soon. These Freudian slips are just freaking me out. It's up to us when we get married, and I don't think I need to be impatient about it. I'm only 22 for fuck's sake!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
We Play Pretend
There have been a lot of break-ups going on around me. My sister. My roommate. A friend. It's getting a little intense. Everywhere I turn, someone is asking me what to do or how to feel or why this happened. I don't have the answers! I've only had one break-up in my life. I have absolutely nothing to compare it to and I don't know what the best outcome of a break-up is. Are you supposed to be friends? Are you supposed to hate each other? Something between? A combination of the two? So far, 2 of them have ended in very painful and emotional schisms. One is remaining a friendship (I think).
Is staying friends with an ex like leading them on? One one hand, there is a shared history. The experiences you have with that person can never be duplicated. The are unique and special, no matter what you do. On the other hand, something happened that separated the two of you. Something big. Maybe you fell out of love. Maybe one or both of you did something unforgivable. Whatever it was, obviously it was big enough to move you to break-up. I can understand not wanting to let go of an ex, but if they haven't moved on, are you leading them on? Keep them on a back burner for future use, maybe?
I don't understand relationships with someone you've already broken up with. Well, that's not entirely true. Intellectually I understand why someone would want to get back with an ex. Familiarity. Comfort. What I don't understand is why you would think it will work out this time. The trust was broken or the feelings weren't there. How do you get over that? How do you come back from that?
Take, for example, my one previous relationship. It was a messy break-up if there ever was one! A mixture of miscommunication, blind trust, love quadrangle, and insecurity. I shared a lot with him, though. I don't just mean 'firsts', but I also mean a real friendship. We had a lot in common. Of course I miss having a partner that shared so many of my interests. I just don't know how painful it would be to try friendship again. I would be scared that looking at him or hearing his voice would bring back a slew of painful memories. But he was my best friend. Who broke my heart. Maybe accidentally, but it happened.
UGH. Life is so damn complicated.
It's been more than 2 years since we stopped having anything to do with each other, but he often pops up in my mind. Mostly when I look at my little library in my living room and realize he has read more books there than my current boyfriend has - by far. He suggested a number of them to me, actually. Although so have my 2 roommates. I have quite a bit in common with them too. I think the difference is the way we see the books. My books are like my children. I arrange them lovingly and reverently, while my roommates see them as a way to pass the time. He understood how I felt.
We also had the same sense of humor. It's probably what kept us together so long, despite the distance. I think what ultimately did us in was fear and insecurity. He didn't trust my feelings, and I was afraid that he was going to drop me at any minute. When things ended, they got even more complicated if that's even possible. I don't really want to go into it, but it was like the door to friendship was permanently sealed.
So why do I want to talk to him now? Why have I (mostly) forgiven him? He had more than 2 years of my life. I don't want to date him again. A friendship would be nice, I think. I'm not sure. He probably doesn't want to talk to me or see me ever again anyway. Now that he is so much closer to me. IRONY.
We'll see. Maybe I'll make a new friend somewhere that loves to laugh and read the same way I do. Maybe.
Is staying friends with an ex like leading them on? One one hand, there is a shared history. The experiences you have with that person can never be duplicated. The are unique and special, no matter what you do. On the other hand, something happened that separated the two of you. Something big. Maybe you fell out of love. Maybe one or both of you did something unforgivable. Whatever it was, obviously it was big enough to move you to break-up. I can understand not wanting to let go of an ex, but if they haven't moved on, are you leading them on? Keep them on a back burner for future use, maybe?
I don't understand relationships with someone you've already broken up with. Well, that's not entirely true. Intellectually I understand why someone would want to get back with an ex. Familiarity. Comfort. What I don't understand is why you would think it will work out this time. The trust was broken or the feelings weren't there. How do you get over that? How do you come back from that?
Take, for example, my one previous relationship. It was a messy break-up if there ever was one! A mixture of miscommunication, blind trust, love quadrangle, and insecurity. I shared a lot with him, though. I don't just mean 'firsts', but I also mean a real friendship. We had a lot in common. Of course I miss having a partner that shared so many of my interests. I just don't know how painful it would be to try friendship again. I would be scared that looking at him or hearing his voice would bring back a slew of painful memories. But he was my best friend. Who broke my heart. Maybe accidentally, but it happened.
UGH. Life is so damn complicated.
It's been more than 2 years since we stopped having anything to do with each other, but he often pops up in my mind. Mostly when I look at my little library in my living room and realize he has read more books there than my current boyfriend has - by far. He suggested a number of them to me, actually. Although so have my 2 roommates. I have quite a bit in common with them too. I think the difference is the way we see the books. My books are like my children. I arrange them lovingly and reverently, while my roommates see them as a way to pass the time. He understood how I felt.
We also had the same sense of humor. It's probably what kept us together so long, despite the distance. I think what ultimately did us in was fear and insecurity. He didn't trust my feelings, and I was afraid that he was going to drop me at any minute. When things ended, they got even more complicated if that's even possible. I don't really want to go into it, but it was like the door to friendship was permanently sealed.
So why do I want to talk to him now? Why have I (mostly) forgiven him? He had more than 2 years of my life. I don't want to date him again. A friendship would be nice, I think. I'm not sure. He probably doesn't want to talk to me or see me ever again anyway. Now that he is so much closer to me. IRONY.
We'll see. Maybe I'll make a new friend somewhere that loves to laugh and read the same way I do. Maybe.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Someone Like You
It has been a long week, my friends. Mostly because my grandfather passed away on October 15 and I've been hurting and rushing around ever since.
My grandfather was a complicated man. Throughout his service and the luncheon that followed everyone kept saying, "Calvin had simple tastes." I don't think that is quite accurate. It implies that he was simple, which is the furthest thing from the truth. He had 7 siblings and he was the odd man out. While they were all straight laced children of the local Baptist minister, he walked his own path. From what I've been told he has been a heavy drinker for the last 50 years and I know that he was also a chain smoker. Once, as a small child, I went up to my Grandpa Calvin and said, "Smoking isn't good for you, you know." He replied is his deep timbre, "You aren't my mother, you don't get to tell me what to do." I shut up. Haha.
That was the thing about my grandpa, his voice vibrated in your chest. He had this voice that could scare the paint off the walls. When people meet my dad they tell me how deep his voice is, but it doesn't compare to Calvin's. It made his words leave an impression on you. He wasn't a big man, but I didn't realize that until Thursday, when he didn't say a word.
I'm not sure if it's because he was my grandpa that I wasn't afraid of him or because I naturally see through that kind of thing. (Probably the grandpa thing). I rarely saw him but we called every now and then and they were the easiest conversations to have. I'm not sure why, because we didn't have much in common, but I could talk to him at length without there ever being an awkward pause or verbal filler.
I really will miss him. He made my dad and my uncles who they are. He made me who I am.
Rest In Peace Calvin
My grandfather was a complicated man. Throughout his service and the luncheon that followed everyone kept saying, "Calvin had simple tastes." I don't think that is quite accurate. It implies that he was simple, which is the furthest thing from the truth. He had 7 siblings and he was the odd man out. While they were all straight laced children of the local Baptist minister, he walked his own path. From what I've been told he has been a heavy drinker for the last 50 years and I know that he was also a chain smoker. Once, as a small child, I went up to my Grandpa Calvin and said, "Smoking isn't good for you, you know." He replied is his deep timbre, "You aren't my mother, you don't get to tell me what to do." I shut up. Haha.
That was the thing about my grandpa, his voice vibrated in your chest. He had this voice that could scare the paint off the walls. When people meet my dad they tell me how deep his voice is, but it doesn't compare to Calvin's. It made his words leave an impression on you. He wasn't a big man, but I didn't realize that until Thursday, when he didn't say a word.
I'm not sure if it's because he was my grandpa that I wasn't afraid of him or because I naturally see through that kind of thing. (Probably the grandpa thing). I rarely saw him but we called every now and then and they were the easiest conversations to have. I'm not sure why, because we didn't have much in common, but I could talk to him at length without there ever being an awkward pause or verbal filler.
I really will miss him. He made my dad and my uncles who they are. He made me who I am.
Rest In Peace Calvin
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