Sunday, May 14, 2006

How Long Has This Been Going On?

Blah. I am an emotional mess when it comes to you. Everything is so weird. Not a mess, I suppose, so much as a misunderstanding, as in I think I understand one moment but then am turned upside down and roundabout. There is never a middle ground, even though that's what we'd like to think of it as. It's not a middle ground. It's a fence. And we're trying to straddle it. And I really hope it is not unsuccessfull. I don't know if that word is correctly spelled. You see what you do to me?

**EDIT** Looking at that word, NOW, I can say that it has an extra L. I don't spell things wrong, dammit. I can't believe that happened to me.

Monday, April 24, 2006

I Think I Love You, So What Am I So Afraid Of?

I have the uncomfortable feeling that while you may not be perfect, you are, in fact, perfect for me. But I don't know if I'm perfect for you. And that scares me. What if I've finally found what I've always been looking for, and it's all going to amount to nothing? I don't know if I'm falling...I think I am one day and dismiss it the next...but I know something more is happening. Something more than I agreed to. I don't know if I can handle that. There are so many flaws, some of them tiny and some of them gaps a mile wide....It's strange to say it, but you could be one of the best friends I've ever had. I don't want to lose that. I'd give up everything just to stay that way, and more? I'm too frightened to think what that might mean. So many I don't knows....Jenni would say I need to find out the answers. But what if the answers aren't what I'm looking for? And, even scarier, what if they are?

And, what if I wasn't so damn afraid? What if there's really nothing to fear?

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

What If

I've talked to Brian. Strange, but not strange, if you know what I mean. Strange because I haven't talked to him in months, and I'm sure a lot has happened to both of us, but not strange because it wasn't weird, just like we hadn't stopped talking at all. Odd.
The pediatrician thinks Lydia has asthma. Like that's all I needed. They gave her steroids. Does that mean she'll get really big muscles? I wonder.
I have no idea what I'm talking about. Hopefully I will get to see Jen for a bit tomorrow... I really need to. I need her input on my life and my state of mind. I miss her like crazy. I think I should be visiting Yoda, too. I'm going to miss the crap out of her once she goes a continent away. Yet at the same time, I'm so glad she's going to do it, because it means so much to her, and because maybe she really will get a FRESH START. Which is what I want, but am not brave enough to go get. I think I should tell her this.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Auld Lang Syne

I resolve to:

Smile more.
Laugh more.
Potty train two resistant toddlers (while smiling and laughing!).
Quit my job, because I don't want it anymore.
Eat more salad.
Read as much as possible. Still.
Love, love, love, every day.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Haunt You Every Day

These are the words that hamper my progress

At times I can't move
At times I can hardly breathe

When you say you love me
The world goes still so still inside and
When you say you love me
I know why I'm alive

When you're with me if I close my eyes
There are times I feel like I can fly

Thank you Josh Groban, for your beautiful voice, and beautiful lyrics, and the poignantly beautiful way you have ripped out my heart. Honestly. I love you.

But at any rate. I'm sitting here, tears in my eyes. I don't know why. Holidays? I don't think that's it. I'm just waiting for the great romance of my life. Which is never going to come. Ha. I dunno. Weezer makes me cry tonight too, thus the title of this post. That is a seriously fucking BEAUTIFUL song folks. I know you probably think I took a little too much NyQuil or something, and I'll admit I'm tired, but I can recognize lovely things no matter what. Josh Groban is a god. Weezer makes me float. I love Michael Buble. Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen.


Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Your Cheatin' Heart

What the hell, assholes. By assholes, I mean stupid, insensitive, incredibly uncaring, ruthless, cowardly, lying puddles of slime also known as men who cheat. Or women, it doesn't really have a gender here, my anger. The funny thing is I'm not the one who's been cheated on. My best friend just found out that her idiot boyfriend has been sleeping with his EX-girlfriend for a month, all the while being vociferously angry at HER for her suspicions. And now he wants to dump her with their way-too-expensive apartment that he insisted they get, so he can run off to bliss of some kind with his tramp and her daughter. Never mind my best friends' daughter, the one he's been helping to raise and taking to school, and promising her a home and a family for. She has to switch schools, go back to being a single-parent family, and hopefully, if her mom can hack it, have a roof over her head. But she's seven, she can go out and get a job, right?

I'm sick of all this non-responsibility in the world. "Homeless kids aren't my problem." Well then whose the fuck are they? "I couldn't just lose my ex-girlfriend AGAIN" Trust me. There was a simple reason you lost her the first time, namely HELLO, she was sleeping with three other dumb fucks just like you, and apparently realised long before you did that you were the dumbest. She was spot-on there, buddy.

And yeah. Maybe my anger is a bit unfounded, considering it's not my relationship, or my life, but I happen to think that our friends are our links to a life we may otherwise not live so happily, and damnit, I think you should take responsibility and children and family and FUCKING FIDELITY seriously.

I bought a friend of mine a Christmas present today, I don't know why. He's a good friend, and I wanted him to know that. But he wants to be more, and he won't be, ever, and I hope this didn't make him think otherwise. But damnit, he was thrilled. He doesn't get too many gifts, and I think he was truly excited, so that was really nice. It made me wish it was more than it was, but c'est la vie, you always look back. I hope he likes it. I hope he knows I treasure him as a friend. And I hope he can be okay with the fact that that's what he will remain. I think he will.

I am finally FINALLY finished with Christmas shopping, except for my cousin and her mom and brother. But those will be simple... a romance novel, a breast cancer pink ribbon something, and a toy of some sort. I hope.

If I don't write in again til afterwards, Peace On Earth.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

You're A Mean One

Except I'm not talking to the Grinch, I'm talking to myself, or Chase, or maybe just the world around me. I just noticed that while I do not have my own name available, I feel no compulsion whatsoever to hide the names of my relatives/friends. Odd. Still. I'll leave it. Back to the point, then. I'm tired of this. Of my life, of my dwellings, of my job, of my non-existent romantic relationship, of being old already and not quite ready for it. I will be twenty-three in a little over a month. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I haven't even realised that I'm twenty-one yet!
I am tired of people who do drugs and think that you're the one who is intolerant. Why are you intolerant of my need to be free of your glazed eyes, horrid smell, and depleted brain activity? I want to ask them. I am tired of people who think they know what is best for you when actually all they really know is what's best for them and how you can help them accomplish it. I am tired of bad tippers. I am tired of persons telling me with increasing frequency that I am either too nice or a complete bitch (note: persons mentioned never say both, it is either/or). I am tired of people who do not spend eighteen hours a day with two people who cannot talk, especially the people who do not do this and then commence telling me how tired they are. I want to poke my finger in the eye of all of these people.
Mostly, I am tired of my own bitching and complaining, but still have not found anything else to do. I have looked at degrees and colleges and career diplomas and Pell Grants. I have looked at jobs to apply for and places to move to. I want out. I want someone to rescue me. I know that I could, and very well should, be doing this on my own, digging myself out of this black pit of despair, as I like to call it, this utter slothiness, if that is in fact a word. But I don't, don't, do not want to. I want someone to do it for me! I'll admit that freely! I want to have a shining white knight ride up on a steed, or even a bicycle, we can't be too picky these days, and say "Hello. I would like to take care of all your problems for you, and please, won't you spend the rest of your life reading on the couch while eating glorious foodstuffs that will never make you gain an ounce while I watch you adoringly? Oh, and I'll pay for everything." Yes, it's a damn fantasy, but so what, it's mine, and if I want to be selfish here, where no one can see me, where only the virtual world is looking, and I don't even think many are, then who cares! It's my mind, and I will spill forth onto this screen, as it were, whatever I feel at that particular moment.
I don't know why I'm being defensive, perhaps it's the way my modem is blinking at me. Subordinately.