Feeling Craptastic

I feel crappy. I guess it's the weather or something, but everything kind of sucks right now. Nothing is really that bad. I'm just dissatisfied and annoyed and tired of dealing.

At times like this, I often resort to making a list of why I'm stressed/angry/on edge. Right now, the list looks like this:

1) I keep putting on weight and have no motivation to do anything to stop it.
2) I am lonely.
3) I feel like I will never be debt-free. The debt keeps growing and I feel like I am drowning in it.
4) I miss my old friends. They are so far away and I don't have the funds to visit them.

I guess that's it. Money, weight, relationships. Shocking.

Ugh. I shouldn't be complaining, but I can't help it. It has been really hard to get out of bed lately. Today, I didn't bother. I guess I'm depressed or something. Whatever.

You know what? I'm going for a walk. Fuck this self-pity. I am tired of feeling this way. Clearly, the lack of exercise isn't helping the situation. Here goes nothing.

Is That So Wrong?

I lied to him tonight to see how he'd respond. Evil? I think, maybe not so much.

As it turns out, he doesn't give a shit. I'm not surprised. He's a douchebag. Very selfish. Only thinks about himself.

On another front (one that doesn't make me want to cry), I have a wicked crush. Ugh, it's so.....so.....so exciting and annoying. All at once. I just want to make out with him! Grrrr. I'm so out of practice in the flirting and whatnot that I have no idea what to do. I am terrified of coming on too strongly, so I'm trying to just chill the fuck out.

Crushes sure are fun though. It's been about 5 years since I've had a good crush. I've been wrapped up in this one for 5 friggin' years. 5 years is too many years.

I do love him though. I love him and it's time to let him go. It keeps on sort of sucking though. I'm not exactly sure it won't continue sucking forever. Like with one of my old loves. Sometimes I think about him and wish I could hug him and turn back time and make things right again. Sometimes that still sucks, but I deal. You get used to it and it hurts less.

Just have to deal, I guess.

Time to Love Myself

Well, I just returned last night from a trip to California to visit the boy. I'm a jerk. I shouldn't have gone. I don't know why I keep putting myself through this garbage. Everytime I see him, I end up feeling like an obsessed lunatic.

I wrote the following while drunk in a club in San Francisco, after I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away:

I feel badly because he makes me feel badly. Not because I feel that way independently. I feel inadequate. He never validates me. I try so hard, I make myself sick. Everyone but me sees the truth. He doesn't care.

Pretty pathetic, eh? I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away. He later explained that he needed some space.

Space? And I'm surprised? F-ing noncommittal asshole, that's what he is.

I am a good person. With a good heart. I am worth more than this. I deserve a good man. Someone who will look at me and run his fingers through my hair because he wants to touch me. Someone who will make sacrifices and plans. Someone who isn't him.

He was my person at one time, but I guess maybe I've changed. I can't do this anymore. It's been too long and too hard. I'm tired of hurting. Tired of being alone when I feel like my other half is out there, digging in the fucking dirt somewhere instead of sleeping next to me.

Fuck him.

Nicotine Recovery, Day #3

Wow. Day three already! I continue to impress myself.

So, how do I feel? Well, I am wicked antsy. Restless. Hungry. Irritable. I think those are all normal feelings to be having at this point in the recovery process though, so I’m not alarmed.

I am also incredibly proud of myself. I didn’t know I could do this. I mean, I knew, deep down, but I thought I was weak. That quitting would be the most awful thing I’d ever been through and it simply is not.

Last night, I picked up flavored toothpicks from the health food store and sucked on them until I got home. Immensely helpful. The walk was so much easier than the day before. I also had grocery bags with me, so my hands were full and busy, which also seemed to help.

Until last night, I was still carrying around my lighter and a pack of cigarettes with 7-8 left. I kept thinking that I would give them to the next smoker I saw. I didn’t want them to go to waste. But then I realized that no one should have them and I don’t want to contribute to anyone else’s habit anymore. I was an enabler for many of my friends for a long while and I will no longer be that person.

I’m not sure who I will be. I have vast amounts of free time now. I never realized just how much time smoking took up. Last night I rearranged my bookshelves, finally went through the box of papers I’ve been meaning to address, sorted my change to prepare for rolling pennies, and made dinner. On a Tuesday. Wow. What a concept.

The one thing that really upset me yesterday was that CM wasn’t supportive or encouraging when I told him I’d gone two days. He of all people should appreciate my efforts. I waited for his response and he basically came back with, “That’s good. You know, I don’t understand how it’s so hard. It’s like, when I smoked (for approximately 6 months or something—not NINE years), I just stopped. It’s all mental.” No “that’s awesome!” or “good job” or “I’m so proud of you!” He just manipulated the conversation so it was all about him again. Fucking jerk.

Anyway. I plan on talking to him tonight about how he hurt my feelings. We’ll see how he responds.

So yeah, three days. I just gotta keep on keepin’ on.

How's This For Your Sign

We finally talked last night. I asked what his plans are after he finishes working out East. He’s going back West to tie up some loose ends and then he doesn’t know where he’ll be headed from there. He is waiting for a sign telling him where he is supposed to be. A stupid sign.

I told him this has been really hard on me. Having him here. Seeing him. I told him I love him. He told me he loves me too. He hadn’t thought about things from my point of view. I asked how he would feel if I were dating someone else. He was obviously quite upset by this idea and asked whether I am. I’m not. I sort of lied and told him I had been seeing someone. Not entirely true, but not entirely false either. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. I told him I won’t date anyone else.

He said that he was surprised that our connection is still so strong after so long apart. It’s like we never missed a beat. He said it is so easy for us to be together. He said I need you right now in my life. I need you. I love you. I’m not sure where this is going though. I need time. I need to talk face to face.

It’s always about what he needs, isn’t it? Screw that. I need some freakin’ answers, that’s what I need. Damn it. It shouldn’t be this hard. He should want to be with me enough that he doesn’t need some stupid sign, he just needs me. I should be enough, but I’m not.

I'm not going to stop looking for my person. I'm not waiting for him.

Mental/Spatial Reorganization

I rearranged my bedroom today. It's such a great feeling once it's completed. I've essetially inventoried most of what I own and know where everything is. The dust balls are gone. The floor is clean. It looks enormous. So much space. So much floor.

I love it.

I think that the process of rearranging the bedroom facilitates a mental cleanse as well. In college, if my room was a mess, I wouldn't be able to write. Homework came second to a tidy workspace. I'm hoping I will be able to think more clearly now.

I'm sort of in the middle of an emotional disaster waiting to happen. My ex-boyfriend has made a sudden and jolting reappearance in my life. He visited me three weekends in a row, this being the first he hasn't made the trip since it began.

He was planning on visiting in September and I told him I didn't think it would be a good idea for me. I told him I still loved him and that it would be too hard for me. He would have a great time and I would too, but in the end, I'd be miserable and he'd be fine.

I cancelled the visit. And then received a call during a night of drunken debauchery. He's going to be working nearby, he said, and I said, why don't you swing by my house on your way. I was drunk. The next day, the next two days, I didn't even recall the conversation. He called on a Tuesday and told me he figured he would get in around 11:00 on Friday. What? I didn't even remember he was coming here. What was I supposed to do? I invited him!

So he came and it was great. It was really nice, actually. Of course it was! I'm so stupid sometimes. It was great. He came the next weekend and the next.

Argh. I don't know what to feel. I want him to want this. To want me. I want him to move here and be with me. But then I don't.

I like being alone. I like having my time all to myself. Having no one to answer to. No duties to another person. I like waking up and thinking, what do I want to do today? Or, what do I have to do today? Not, what do you want for breakfast? Because, of course, I can't do anything until I know he has been taken care of.

I guess that is the mother in me----lying in wait. I was designed to nurture.

Argh. Not sure what happens next.

Dear Nice Man, Your Girlfriend Sucks

Why is it that nice guys date such major bitches? Do nice men actually enjoy being treated like garbage? What the hell?

Case in point:

So, I busted my ass last night at the gym after a long day at work. By the time I got home, I was ravenously hungry, ready to chew my own arm off. I decided I'd head down to my local watering hole for a nice, juicy cheeseburger. Mmmm....cheeseburger.

Now, usually, this bar is fairly quiet on weeknights, so I'm guaranteed to get a seat. Not last night. Apparently, there were three, count them, THREE games on last night that mattered for Bostonians. I don't know crap about sports, so don't ask me which teams were playing. All I knew was there were no seats available and lots of beer guzzling going down.

I was determined to get my burger, so I scooted up to the bar and ordered my cheeseburger, well done, with no onions, salad with no dressing instead of fries, and a side of honey mustard. Mmmm......honey mustard. I know, very ridiculously specific annoying girly selection, but hey, I know the bartender so I can get away with it. The fact that I didn't have a seat didn't really bug me all that much. I just wanted the meat.

I chatted with a couple of very nice firefighters while waiting for my food to arrive, and once it did, I again squeezed myself up to the bar and proceeded to eat standing up. Now, in case you've forgotten, I'm pretty short. The bar, well, not so much. I probably looked like a crazy person trying to stand on my tippy-toes to chow down on a burger the size of my head. Oh well, right?

Well, there were a few people off to my left: a guy and his bitch, I'm sorry, girlfriend, and another female friend. He was sitting and they were standing. I caught bits of their conversation and decided if the girlfriend and I were put in a room alone together for an extended amount of time, I'd surely hurt her. She just would NOT shut up.

After finishing half of the burger and salad, the man realized I was struggling to eat my food standing up and kindly offered me his seat. "Thank you so much. That's so nice of you," I said, and gratefully sat down to enjoy the rest of my meal.

Chatty Kathy over there asks him why did he just do that. The bitch was pissed that her boyfriend, being the kind, considerate gentleman he is, offered a total stranger his chair. Why he didn't offer her the seat to begin with is a totally separate issue. Anyway, wouldn't you be impressed with your boyfriend if he did that? Wouldn't you think that was sweet of him? I did. All Chatty Kathy saw was another girl getting attention from her man. She was really unhappy about it.

I finished eating and returned his chair without following my instinct to tell him to dump her sorry ass. But seriously, he should dump her sorry ass. That girl is a bitch. Nice guy, thank you for the seat. You deserve better.

A Back-Scratching Good Time

I got to the train station this morning and nearly ripped my shirt off because my back was itching so bad. Wicked dry skin this time of the year in MJLand.
I remembered:

I used to work the register at this place that shall remain nameless. One of my coworkers there was hot. I mean h-o-t, hot. He was recently divorced with two children and I knew from the moment we met that we were not meant to be. But, boy, oh boy, how I loved working those shifts with him. Watching him bag the unnecessary crap that people purchase, seeing him fight with the register and win, watching him hold the door open for old people. He could dance too. Mmmm. I had such a terrible crush.

So one day, I am at the register doing my thang and my back starts itching like crazy. I turned into a contortionist, trying desperately to reach that one inaccessible spot on my back without success.

He came up behind me, I didn't even know he was there, and started scratching my back. It felt so nice.

That's all I want. I want that moment when my special someone has anticipated and realized my needs and without speaking, takes action. It is so nice to be cared for and seen and to reciprocate in turn. For all of my coupled friends out there, you are lucky. Be appreciative and be good to each other.

It Is Amazing What A Few Months Can Do

(Written 10/24/05)

So, when I moved back to Boston (for the third time) last February, I had exactly four friends in the city. One I adore and see semi-frequently, another I have not yet contacted so I don't think we are really friends, and the other two are those weird friends who you never call but are happy to see when you run into them at a party. I had family, but no one to really talk to and I was coming off of a really nasty breakup.

This was the breakup which trumped all other breakups in my repertoire. I felt like I was dying inside and, looking back on it, I guess I sort of was. Naturally, time heals all wounds and I recovered. I spent a lot of time alone, walking around the city, observing people.

Then, I decided to try out for a play. My life literally exploded with possibility. Being on stage again made me realize that I can do this. I can do that. I'll get through it. I have potential. I can make people "feel" and that feels good. I signed up for a class. I met new people. I smiled and laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a long time. It felt good.Now, I have so much to do I cannot keep track of it. I am so busy I think I might explode. It is good to be busy, but all I want (and here I frickin’ go again) is to be bored with someone I love. I wanna sit and make stupid jokes and cuddle and order in and take showers and scrub each other's backs. I want to make someone happy. Where are you, lover boy? Come quick!!!!!!!

I Will Now Subject You To My Very First Blog

(Written October 19, 2005)

Welcome to my first blog ever. I've never done this before, so be patient, dear readers.

So, I've begun to feel like I must not know myself very well because I am having the damnedest time filling out my myspace profile. Everytime I type something in, I think, nah, that's not me or that doesn't sound right. Then an unexpected error occurs and shuts me down and I just plain give up. This time will be different. I can feel it in my bones.

I am at a weird point in my life. I feel like I have all these things going for me, right? Like stuff is right where it is supposed to be. Work is good. School is time-consuming but worthwhile. My bedroom is clean and my bills are paid. I even have clean underwear in my drawer and the makings for a decent sandwich in my refridgerator. But yet, something is lacking.

I was grocery shopping on Sunday and I nearly broke down in the chip aisle. I wanted to buy a jar of salsa con queso, but realized that there was little chance that I alone would be able to consume the entire jar before it got all weird and coagulated. If I had someone to share my life with, a partner, a man, he would eat the salsa con queso and I wouldn't have to worry about it going bad. He might even go halfies on it with me. But there is no one.

I'm not really sad generally. I go about my life, doing my own thing and I'm happy. I feel good really. But that stupid jar of processed cheese goop really fucked with me. It brought to mind a post on craigslist (my bff) that I read some time ago (not sure when, I read so many posts each day...yes, I am a junkie). This girl was talking about how the thing she misses most about being in a relationship is knowing that if she buys a loaf of bread, it will all be eaten before it goes stale. You see, she alone could not consume an entire loaf before it got stale or moldy. I never understood her plight better than Sunday, standing, staring at the salsa con queso.

Everyone says, "be patient. it will happen when you least expect it". I don't expect a thing, but god damn! And sure, I could probably meet someone tonight to play with, but I don't want to play. I want to get comfortable with someone.

I am throwing a pity party over a jar of salsa. I should have just purchased it and let the damn stuff go bad.