No Buffalo

Today was fairly normal, especially in that there was nothing new about it. Same old stuff all around. And inside. I carry around this feeling of being alone in everything I do, with no one to talk to, and no one talking to me. My friendships have all become topical and shallow. No one wants to talk to me about important things in their lives. And they don't want me to talk either. Things are avoided by simply saying "it's complicated".

So where have all my friends gone? Maybe this is how the indians felt way back when when they looked around and couldn't find any more buffalo. Now all that's left is miles of grassland with nothing there. I guess that's how my insides look. I just don't know how it got that way. When did friends stop talking to me? When did I become poor company? When did I become a substitute for people who couldn't make it there? When did I become plan D?

I suppose it's been a gradual slippage that suddenly amounted to a whole lot of distance. My delusional tendency to insist that nothing is wrong prevented me from seeing incremental change going on around me. Unable to see that I am not included or invited. Only intruding. But now it's here and there's nothing I can do about it. I've slipped beyond the seventh circle of hell (I always wanted to say that) into a place where my relationships with others are akin to the relationship one might have with a goldfish. Or a plant. Fake, of course, so there's no need to water it.

And now that's normal. Nothing new.

Quandary

I am getting very very close to my breaking point. I almost hit it today. I have this roommate, who has a tendency to be incredibly self-righteous and judgemental, believing that whatever she may believe to be wrong or bad is, without a doubt, just that. Things are black and white for her, there are no second chances, and once you do anything she thinks is questionable, you are added to a list of people that she slanders behind their backs. I am sure I am on this list. In fact, I'm sure I'm at the very top of it, because she doesn't even give me the courtesy to talk behind my back. She does it straight to my face, cloaks it in the context of "joke", and laughs at me with her friends while I sit and glare at her, debating whether or not to say fuck you, bitch and cause great discomfort to her friends, most of whom I actually like.

She is a bitter person. She is mad at the world because she works an enormous amount of hours, spent a ton of money renovating a house that is now completely beige, and hasn't been able to get a man for quite some time now. I, on the other hand, do not work a lot (as little as possible, actually), I don't spend tons of money on anything (especially if it is beige), and haven't tried to get a new man for quite some time (not that this isn't somewhat depressing and utterly sad, but those of you who read often know all about this, so I'm not going to discuss it right now). I am not bitter. Maybe a bit (or a lot) depressed, but not bitter. I try to be nice to people.

She has ceased to be nice. Especially to me. She seems to think I have become her personal punching bag because she disapproves of my "lifestyle", but doesn't have the guts to actually say that to me. She does, however, have the guts to imply to her friends (fairly directly, and in my presence) that she thinks I am lazy lazy lazy. This because I am home often, don't do her dishes, and don't care about moving the furniture around or improving the house she owns in any way. I simply do not care.

But I am tired of it. I don't deserve her nit-picking attitude of condescension any more than the other people she thinks she is above. I pay to live here, not to have a disapproving mother. I already have one of those. So, I am debating whether or not I should just look for another place and move out (which would, consequently, put her in a mess of financial difficulty), or speak to her about how she has been treating me (which would, consequently, result in her believing in her superiority even more, given that she never thinks she has done anything wrong). I don't want to move out. I like living here when she is not being a pain in the ass. But I also don't want to subject myself to the verbal abuse of a woman who is simply taking her frustrations from her own life out on me. I am not responsible for her problems. None of them.

This is my quandary. Any advice would be much appreciated.

Independent Life

Not getting enough sleep really takes its toll. Getting up before you're ready does too. And I have to do that tomorrow. As in, before the sun comes up. Which I hate. I have to do the same thing on Sunday. Yuck. So I was sitting on the couch a little while ago enjoying my Ramen noodles (a recent rekindling of something I have previously eschewed, but now enjoy), and I suddenly wished he were here. As in right here. With me. Next to me. But that's not the case, obviously. So oh well, that's the way my life generally goes, more or less. Nothing there when I want it, and often when I need it.

The sad truth is that it's no fun to be independent. It's actually pretty lonely. There's no one there to support you when you're down, no one to laugh with you, or make you laugh, or share the news, or gossip. There's no one there to help you out when you need a ride to the airport or the doctor, no one to go to when your house is being torn apart from the inside in a not so quiet way. There's no one to hug you when you're happy or when you're sad, no one to push you when you're being lazy, or stop you when you work too much. No one to tell you you're right, no one to tell you you're being an ass.

It's just you. That's it. You have to figure everything out on your own and do it without help. Plan everything out to its end because no one else is going to help you with the ideas or the enaction of them. Sure, you can take a trip, but you're going by yourself and you're going to have to pay for parking because you have been saddled with the independent life. The trouble is, I never wanted the independent life. I wanted the guy that would sit on the couch and watch HBO with me, make me laugh, rub my shoulders when they hurt, and make me feel special, like I belong somewhere.

Trends of Friends

I don't feel good. At all. And I hate this life I thought I was making better by coming here. I've lived in this town for over two years, and it seems like nothing has gone right here. I'm starting to think that when I eventually leave this town that I will look back on this as the worst two years of my life. Three years by the time I leave, I suppose. It's difficult to really put into words how bad I feel, but I know that the people I care about the most have turned on me and are now making me feel like I'm the worst person on the face of the earth. I thought these people were my friends. But now I'm finding myself crying whenever I get a minute alone because I have no one left to turn to, no one left to trust. And even worse, I'm trapped here.

It only takes a small thing for people to begin believing the worst about you; that you are the worst and nothing better. Always have been; always will be. They don't let you defend yourself, they don't care about your feelings, they don't care about why you do things, they don't want to let you out, they don't care about anything except what they think you are doing and what is 100% wrong about it. They yell at you, shut you out, refuse to listen, then pass it on. I feel like I have been squashed like a bug for no reason. Just because I was there.

And I don't want to be there anymore. I don't want to be anywhere. I've found myself having a hard time doing anything lately because it all seems so pointless. It's really all for nothing. Because none of these people care about me or what I do or what I want or how I feel. The bottom line is that I don't matter at all. I wish someone would listen to me, to all the things that they've done that have hurt me, and let me finish without interrupting me about logic and sense because none of that makes a difference when it's my insides we're talking about. I wish that just one of them would listen to me and try to understand me for once. Try to understand that I may not be perfect, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings and they can still get hurt. Especially when they are trampled on by the people I care about the most. If only they cared about me just as much. It looks as though my life-long trend of men not wanting me is spreading to no one wanting me.

Public Stuff

This insomnia crap is really starting to suck. I keep thinking it will take care of itself and I'll crawl into bed at night and fall asleep because I'm tired. But I guess that's how insomnia is. This weather isn't helping much either. So if you want a current tally of my life, here it is: I am broke. I have no desire to stay in school, California, or anywhere else. My friends are mean to me. It's cloudy. I can't sleep. I dread my job.

Life is so over my head, I don't know how I got this far. I was able to count my friends on one hand before, now it doesn't even take that much. Every time I think I'm going somewhere, I'm further behind than I thought. Oh yeah, and don't forget that construction on my house isn't over yet, and loud noises are continuing to wake me up. I have always thought that there was something on life for me, something to offer, something I could hold on to. Now I'm beginning to wonder what that is, or if there even is anything. My parents' basement is starting to look like the only place that will be suitable for me. This public stuff is just beating me up every time I open the door, my mouth, or my heart.

I Feel

I guess the thing about anger must be that it is not enough to know that someone else knows you are angry at them. Your anger cannot and will not subside until you have adequately chastised them for whatever it is they have done to wrong you. It makes no difference that you might have been cold or rude to them when you first got mad (which one might think would be punishment enough); you've got to let it simmer and bring it to a boil at the precisely perfect moment. It's an extra added bonus if you can do it in a public place so you can add humiliation and embarrassment to your victory in righteousness.

Who knew?

I certainly didn't. But then again, I also thought that my feelings mattered, but they don't. That my own anger or resentment or pain is not important to anyone anymore. And yes, I feel those things. I feel as if there is not any attention being paid to my needs or wants, that things that make me uncomfortable or make me feel bad are simply things that I'm stuck with whether I like it or not, and I sure as hell better not complain about it, lest I need another dose of chastising. Next time will involve a rolled up newspaper.

I feel like he's ashamed of being seen with me, since he never wants me around. Especially if other people are going to be present. A little ignoring will go a long way. It's also because he pretends I was never around when he recounts things to other people. Because he doesn't want anyone to know about "us", and never did, even when there was an "us".

I feel like he's ignoring the fact that he's not perfect, and has done plenty of things that would not necessarily be considered considerate towards me. Some things could be controlling, others just unfair. And some things are just plain hurtful, which he conveniently forgets, or maybe doesn't even really care about.

I don't claim to be perfect. Or anything close to that. But I do claim to try to treat people with respect, which includes respect for their feelings and desires. I try to understand what they are going through. But it seems that a little slack might be afforded if I make incorrect judgements at times, because I also have my own feelings and desires that I'm trying to respect. I want to be happy too. I want everyone to be happy. Sometimes I can't do it. Sometimes I think I'm doing it and I'm really not. Sometimes I have no idea what's going on. So I'm bound to fuck up every now and then. You'll just have to find a way to realize that I'm doing my best. And maybe if you ask me about my feelings every now and then...well...nevermind.

Hypothetical/Rhetorical

I'm not sure what to do with my life. But I know I want to do something with it. Something good. So there's this hole in my chest where my heart used to be before it was broken in a million pieces and disintegrated into nothing. I thought it would take care of itself and I would eventually be completely ready for another round of heartbreak and disappointment. But so far that hasn't happened. It's been a long long time that I've waited for some sort of healing (or at least forgetting) to happen, and now it seems I'm at a crossroads of a sort.

So this is it: Do I resign myself to a life of solitude plus forty cats, or do I go out with someone who will really just be anyone because I don't have anything left to give to someone? I guess this is really just a hypothetical/rhetorical game, since relationships aren't really my thing anyway. I'm not the one that gets to choose to stay or go. I've been booted by the time I start to get a little bit comfortable.

Part of me wants to date again, but I don't really want to go through the stress of finding and interviewing someone to see if they are a psycho or not. It's just uncomfortable to think that I might get someone to like me even a little bit and then I'll decide I didn't want it in the first place because I have nothing to offer them. Or I'll figure out that I'm not as bad off as I thought and I'll start to like someone and then he'll dump me just like everyone else.

But like I said, this is really just a hypothetical/rhetorical question, since no one would ever want a broke-ass geeky, but not-so-bright chick with glasses anyway.

Scapegoat

Don't you hate it when people get mad at you for no reason, but are completely willing to take it out on you and not tell you about it? I think I am the poster child for it. I seem to be able to find people in my life who are going to be mad at me when they can't fix their own lives, but I am going to represent everything that's going wrong for them. The fact that I just do my thing and don't bother with other stuff just drives them crazy to the point they feel that I have wronged them if I have a bowl of soup or wear my furry mules. Suddenly, everything is my fault. But really, fuck that.

I don't really like being someone's scapegoat or punching bag while they channel everything they hate about themselves or their lives into making me feel bad about something. Either I'm lazy, or intruding, or messy or stupid or annoying or really whatever it is that springs to their minds at the given moment of bitterness. And I'm not any of those things. Usually.

Nothing New

I have a lot of work to do. At least that's what it feels like. I have reading, more reading, more reading, and grading papers to do. And I have to work today. Oh well, this is nothing new. So I'm sitting in bed doing nothing instead, wishing I lived by myself because I don't like anyone anymore. Maybe I'll buy a tour bus and that way I'll always be at home, no matter where I go.

Today is the day I weigh myself. I don't think it's going to be very good news, as I got a little slack starting on Thursday and haven't been drinking enough water. And too much soda. But we'll see if I've gone backwards. Have to wait until there's no one else in the house, mostly because I'm weird and don't like people around when I do stuff.

I'm very tired today, but not for any good reason. There is this part of me that likes cloudy rainy days sometimes, as they remind me a little bit of the days of yesteryear when I didn't live here and was in a place that had weather and seasons and affordable real estate. I also didn't get any mail yesterday, which made me sad. I usually get some on Saturdays, which makes me feel special. This week I'm not special. Oh well, this is nothing new.

Patterns

Another cycle is complete. Seven days, seven plays, ways, frays, etc. I've worked at school, worked at work, dreaded both, been friendly, been irritated, been missed, ignored, invited, and indignant. And now that cloudy Saturday is here again, I can feel the throes of guilt and sadness descending on me once again. Yes, I cried before I slept last night. Again. Because someone was not nice to me. Again. Same person as before. These patterns are really disturbing, actually.

These are the patterns of my mind, and they take about seven days to refresh. There's getting older. There's being unfulfilled. There's feeling unwanted. There's my predictions coming true. If this were the old days, I could get a job as a seer. Over the summer, I predicted that I would become completely undesireable to a specific person, that he would no longer wish to touch me or anything else. He vehemently denied that it would happen. That has come to pass. Some of my more inward predictions have also come to pass, but mostly because I know myself thoroughly enough to predict when and how my weaknesses will manifest themselves in the greater part of my life. I now have regrets. Or maybe just unsureity that the decisions I've made recently were the correct ones, wondering if my life's banality is a result of my unwillingness to accept the unexpected things in life as possibilities instead of complications. I guess it doesn't even matter now.

But it probably never did anyway.

Lesson

The lesson for this Friday: You can never fucking win. That's all there is to it. No matter how hard you try to please someone, they will always be irritated with you because they don't give a fuck in the first place and just plain don't want you around at all, unless they give you permission to be around.

Last Friday, I was in trouble because I didn't want to hang out with someone who is a friend of a friend of mine because she was not nice to me the last time I saw her, has never been nice to me, and has actually caused him to get on my case before because she "got a vibe" from me (which was ridiculous, to say the least). He wants us to be friends, but is mad at ME because she is rude to me whenever I'm around and I refuse to subject myself to her rudeness.

Fast forward seven days.

I am friends with someone he is friends with. They invite him to dinner. They invite me. He is irritated that I show up. What? Exactly. The two perfunctory sentences he threw in my direction, in addition to the lukewarm greeting he gave me upon my arrival made me feel like I'd made some sort of mistake in accepting an invitation to dinner. HE didn't want me there. I could feel it as surely as I felt the champagne bubbling up in my veins. It wasn't the sort of irritation that garners attention, just the kind that makes me feel as though I've fucked up and I really should have stayed at home. The kind of feeling that makes me feel extremely unwelcome. Even though I haven't done anything wrong. He gives them each a warm thanks for having dinner with him, then gives me some perfunctory sentence about Tuesday (as in, don't talk to me for all of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, because I'm really pissed at you) and walks, no, stalks, away, as if I've ruined his entire evening by showing up, even though I was actually invited. Without solicitation.

So that's the lesson. I can't fucking win. If I'm friends with your friends, you'll be pissed when they invite both of us, instead of just you, to dinner. If I'm not friends with your friends, you'll be a jerk to me because you think it's all my fault that I'm not friends with them and that I'm making things difficult on you because you aren't in control of my life, or my feelings. Or maybe that's just what is pissing you off: that you can't control me, no matter how much you try to.

Either way, I can't fucking win.

Indifference

It was bound to happen. It was inevitable. This mood that seems to settle on me like a blanket of snow whenever I am not around people has returned, and my guess is that it will stick around for the whole of tomorrow. It's that mood that makes me not want to do anything, talk to anyone, or go anywhere. And the fact that I'll be home alone (yeah!) means that the chances of anything changing that are slim.

I guess it all sort of boils down to this feeling I've been having lately that nothing I'm doing matters, that happiness is something that wasn't for me, and I will forever be like Sissiphus (I have no idea how to spell his name, but I'm glad I finally figured out what it was) pushing the rock up the hill for all eternity. It seems to me that I need a drastic change. I just don't know what. I am always changing things, trying to figure out the right combination of this and that so I can lead a life that is fulfilling and happy. Change jobs, change residences, leave states, time zones, countries, schools, get dumped by one man after another, change majors, blah blah blah. It seems like no matter what changes, it ends up in the same place where I feel like nothing good is happening. Where I feel trapped and unfulfilled and unwanted and unneeded and unwelcome and uninspired and so on.

Does everyone feel this way? I suppose it might seem greedy or selfish to want, but I want what I want, not what other people tell me to want. Which is why no one has ever been able to set me up with someone else, or set me up with a job, or a place to live, or any other kind of plan that they think I am supposed to flip over. Maybe I don't even know what I want. Maybe I just think I do. But it's not really just whim. It's things that I think about and dwell over and wish for every day and every night, things that leave me hopeless and disappointed the further I get from them. Or the further I am pushed from them. Or the harder they become to attain.

This aging thing is not so cool. I always thought I would have my shit together by the time I got this old, but I'm not even close. I look back on my life and see all the fun and weird things I've done, but realize that none of them really fall into the category of accomplishment. Of doing anything that means anything to anyone. So I guess maybe that's it. My life is just a hopeless struggle against indifference. Mine and everyone else's.

Party People

My body hurts. I'm really getting too old to frolic around like those 20 year olds in my dance class. But other than that, I guess things are ok. I was really down this morning, but somewhere during the day it got better. Maybe it was the chocolates. Or the painting. Or the happy greetings.

Being around happy people makes it a lot easier to be happy. It is amazing how it works like that.

I'm hoping my dad will win Powerball; then I'll get that beach house I've been nagging him for. Just in time for winter.

I have to work early in the morning. Yes, early. But it's sort of a favor, so hopefully they'll remember that when I need certain days off. Which won't be Christams Eve or New Year's Eve, since some jackass is having parties then. Way to go, holiday jerks. I took this job so I could have holidays off, and now you've gone and ruined it. So when I'm not in a good mood, don't be surprised. You've ruined my holiday by making me serve you when I could be at home with MY family. So fuck you, party people.

VVVow!

I am actually in a good mood that sprouted up from nowhere. I suppose it comes from being around happy people. Specifically, a Swiss choreographer that is trying to teach us hip-hop dance and says VVVow! a lot. It's hard to be sad and grumpy around that.

I'm still thinking seriously about moving out of this place and getting a place of my own somewhere. The downside is that I could only afford something in the ghetto, but perhaps a tiny studio with bars on the windows is what I need in order to feel good. Not what anyone would have ever guessed, but it might just be the thing I need. I'm still thinking about it. Nothing definite yet. I suppose there is a definite downside, such as no more cable and wireless internet, no more pool table (not that I use it anyway), no more backyard and no more driveway. But the upside is no more condescending remarks, no more pressure to "do something", and all the quiet time I can possibly stand. (in theory) But it's definitely something I'm considering.

My diet is working. I'm closer to an acceptable weight, but every time I go to dance class, I am seriously dismayed by the size of my ass. I look like a damn soccer mom with all the extra stuff I have going on back there. Nothing against soccer moms, but I just want to look like the girl I used to be. Unfortunately, I was born with the junk in the trunk gene, and maturity is showing it to its fullest(no pun intended). The diet is half accomplished. I must admit, I'm proud of myself for actually paying attention to it for this long. Obsession at its best, folks.

So that's the day. Monday, rainy, cloudy, and so on. And I'm not bitching and moaning at the end of it. VVVow!

How to Do Nothing

How to Do Nothing - WikiHow

Books and Flowers

So I actually did some work on my thesis proposal, but not really enough to give myself a pat on the back for. Just enough to not feel so guilty. I ended up buying a book that is checked out at the library. I felt a twinge of indignation and desperation that the due date of said book is sometime next April. That's an awful long time to have one book. So I bought it from Amazon.

Speaking of buying things, I've been nicely frugal lately. I do deserve a pat on the back for that. I didn't buy anything extra at the art store (probably thanks to my not-so-friendly mood at the time), haven't bought food on campus for the past week, and I also passed up buying an African Violet at Home Depot the other day. Mostly because I knew my friends would laugh at me twice: once because I have no place to put it in my cluttered room, and twice because it will most likely die in record time. The thought that I could keep anything that actually needs attention alive for longer than a week is widely recognized as being ridiculous. Precisely why I stayed away from the orchids, dogs, and children.

Today I was struck by the unpleasant feeling that I hate my job and want out and there is no exit. I hate it when that happens. Because when I sit and try to weasel my way out of my own self-loathing by coming up with some sort of solution for the dead end I've painted myself into, I come up with nothing. Because deep down, I know that even after I graduate (if that ever happens) I'll still have no viable skills that any sort of employer that is worthwhile would look for. I may not know all the computer stuff, or be able to do a P&L report or have 5-10 years experience, but I sure can tell you the best concerts and movies to go see. I can also do absolutely nothing for long periods of time. And I can talk on the phone pretty good too. Oh, and I can spell. Are there any employers out there looking for an employee like me? Willing to let me set my own hours and give me all the benefits and a pretty decent salary too? Yeah, I didn't think so. Which is why I will be stuck in a job I hate until the day I die. Great.

But at least I'll be surrounded by weird books and dead flowers the whole time.

Three Times

Three times in one day. Wow. I used to say that about sex. Now I don't say anything about it, because I don't know anything about it. I'm old. I'm washed up. Useless. Who wants to have sex with that? I don't know how I'm going to break it to my mom that no, I'm not going to be able to give her any grandchildren. She's just going to have to make do with the two she has now.

It really does suck, not only because it's no fun to have no one in the world to love you, but also because it's such a great stress reliever. The world definitely looks lots better and easier to handle when you're not completely stressed out. And somehow, the do-it-yourself approach just isn't the same. I know; I've tried.

So anyway, I guess it was a complete waste of money to buy a queen size bed, since the only part that gets any use is the middle. There's some other stuff I don't need either. Mostly "clothes". Not the kind of clothes you can take to a thrift store.

The laptop has replaced the lapdance. Typical, I'm sure, but usually it doesn't happen for at least another 20 years. Lucky me. I'm ahead of the game.

Quiet

So today I did a whole lotta nothin' because my eyes were sore from the waterworks of last night. But I had to run one errand, which I faithfully did. Then when I got home, my roommate once again felt the need to belittle me (again) in front of her friends, which produced such a look of hatred from me as I debated whether or not to chew her out in front of people I don't know very well. I didn't.

I was also a little bit social today, but I really didn't want to be. So here I am, back in the spot where I started earlier today, wondering how to fix my life because it sure sucks right now. My friends here all hate me for various reasons that are not my fault, and I have no way out. No way of making them see how much they are hurting me because they are so wrapped up in themselves that they can't even really see me at all. Not that they think about me anyway. My phone stays quiet.

But after I backed into a post at the gas station and drove downtown to spend money I don't have, I did see the one thing that would make me smile just once today. Five grown men petting a Cocker Spaniel outside a Starbucks....Maybe you had to be there.

Trapped in a Well

My room is the only safe place. So I'm going to stay here as long as possible today. Yes, I know it's a beautiful day outside, a perfect day to go to the beach, but so was yesterday, and look how that turned out. I just want to have a day where no one hurts me with their carelessness and superiority. I want to be left alone.

I haven't felt this bad in a long time. It's actually kind of stupid when you think about it, that other people have such a huge effect on me. I'm sensitive, what can I say. So I'm not going to work today, I'm not going to school, not going to the beach, not going to the three places I frequent. Because I have to do something else. I have to sit here and lick my wounds and wish my mom was here to take care of me because I cried myself to sleep last night thinking about how I came to have friends that don't care about my feelings. Right now I want to pack my belongings and move far far away where no one will ever find me and be the good-for-nothing everyone already treats me like I am.

So today I am going to sequester myself away from all the things and people that are making me feel bad by staying in my room and talking to no one. Not exactly the ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but hey, when no one gives a shit, it's easy to hide. They're not even looking for me. Good thing I'm not trapped in a well.

Number Two

I often wonder if there's some conspiracy to keep me from thinking my life will ever be the way I want it to be. That my friends will talk to me like I'm important, like they care, like they're interested. That someone will love me, not just for one day or one night or even thirty days, but for a very long time, and for who I am, exactly as I am, and exactly as I aim to be. That my family will respect what I do and every now and then give me a pat on the back for a job well done, even though they don't understand what it is I just did.

But the conspiracy does not want me to have any of these things. Not even one. It's the man...

I have a friend that must always be the center of attention, even if it means I trail behind her and pick up her slack.

I have another friend that feels the need to constantly treat me with such a high degree of condescension, it makes me wonder if I did something to her that I don't know about. Even when I say something as simple as knowing how she must feel to get up early in the morning and work all day and be tired, she feels the need to make a comment that is meant to make me feel lazy and useless and stupid, and then makes a snide comment that she hasn't been to the beach like I have in a long time because she's got IMPORTANT stuff to be doing, for god's sake. It is useless to tell her that every activity she has planned for the next two days are things she CHOSE to do, and if she would mellow out just a little, she too, could go to the beach. Plus, I don't want to fight. My life already sucks enough as it is.

And I have yet another friend, one who once told me he loved me but then recanted, leaving me completely broken-hearted and hopeless. I have been forced to learn to keep my mouth shut in order to keep from being lectured or ignored or any number of other unpleasant punishments, no matter how hurt I might be as a result of something he did. And lately things have been exceptionally hurtful. Not that he would notice. I am nothing but a formality in his life. A hiccup.

Today he met me at the beach, but not really me, because he mentioned that his other friend was there, and asked me if I wanted to go be by her and her friend. Nevermind that this is the same woman that treated me like a disease the last time I was around her. I respectfully declined, so he clenched his jaw, set down his towel, and said he'd be back. Fine. See your friend. I'm not mad. But what I can't understand is why he didn't go see her first and ask her if she wanted to be by me. This is the reason: because if she says no(which she inevitably will), then I can't be the bad guy anymore. Then they can't stand together like they're perfect and they never do anything wrong and it's all my fault that she and I aren't friends. Of course I'm the one who fucked up somewhere. (Oh yeah, it was that part where I fell in love with someone who couldn't care less that I did) And yes, he eventually came back, gushing about how funny she was, doubled over with laughter at some stupid joke she made the night before when he went to visit her while she was acting on some student film. I have to admit that this really does bother me, seeing as how acting is not even something she aspires to do, and it is just a lark for her. I, however, DO aspire to do something meaningful in film, have made more than a couple of them, and have invited him to my set repeatedly, to which he has curtly replied that he is not interested in the behind the scenes drama stuff. I guess what he really meant to say is that he is not interested in MY behind the scenes drama stuff, no matter how much I care about it or how much it would mean to me if he showed ANY interest in it. So excuse me if I don't want to hear a fucking word about your visit to her film set experience with one of the "cool" up-and-coming filmmakers of our department (A club I obviously have not gained entry to).

But I keep my mouth shut and try to let it pass and hope that the subject will change soon(which is a snowball's chance in hell, seeing as how she is one of his favorite subjects, even though he knows I can't stand to hear about her). So I stay quiet and gaze out into the ocean, trying to keep my tears from leaving that spot in the corner of my eye. And out of the other corner, I see him turn completely around to look at where she is sitting. I look at the back of his head and grit my teeth. And in the course of the next couple of minutes, he looks back THREE times, the last of which is while I'm in the middle of a sentence, causing me to stop and wait for him to be ready to pay attention to me instead of this woman who is easily 200 feet away. I wanted to make a comment that he should go sit with her if that's where he really wanted to be, but I didn't. Because I don't want to fight and I don't want him to go.

You would think I would be used to it by now. When he is with others, he ignores me, as he did at school the other day when I came to see him when my class got cancelled. He refused to even acknowledge my presence, much less look at me or speak to me. However, when he is with me, he is busy looking around in a state of semi-panic, as though he is desparately looking for someone to save him from such terrible company. I just don't understand why he bothers to spend time with me if he doesn't want to. I'm tired of feeling like some charity case or some pathetic loser or a bore or some annoying ugly girl that he endures as some pennance for something.

How can I feel good about myself when this is how people treat me? Why are they so surprised when I feel like the lowest of the low, when they are the ones helping me to get there? Of course, not one of them would ever take responsibility of any kind, because they all think it is me, that everything is my fault. But they add up to be the people that make me feel bad instead of good. Like I'm not as good as them. Like a runner up. Like number two.

Troubled Times

Please. Someone tell me what's wrong with me. Because I can't figure it out. Do I not have feelings? Am I not empathic to others? Am I not a good listener? Do I judge? Preach? Am I just plain annoying? Or is it that the circle of friends I roam in is not really a circle at all, but more of a string of points on which I desparately hang on to the end?

I have begun to see a pattern among my friends in that they don't want me around during difficult moments of their lives. As if I might make things worse. Or something. I try to be supportive. I try to make myself available. I try to do things to let them know I care.

But to no avail.

It doesn't even seem to matter what is going on in order for my exclusion to occur. Sick family member. Cheating boyfriend. Disappointing boyfriend. Insensitive girlfriend. Insensitive EX-girlfriend. Heartbreak. Tragedy. Malaise. Depression. Difficulty. Hardship. Whatever. If someone's going through one of them, they forget that I am here and call someone else. Someone else that must be closer, more important, more special, more able to understand, or just less like me.

The things I do don't even seem to make a dent. Bad day? That bottle of wine I got out will go unopened because you changed your mind and don't want to sit with me and vent. Those chocolates will remind you to call someone else. Someone who will inevitably understand you better than I possibly could, even under the best of circumstances. Even phone calls meant to help or lend an ear seem to drift into voice mail and the nether-regions of lost messages and unreturned calls.

It hurts. I mean really. To know that my friends think I'm inconsequential enough to believe that I am no good in times of trouble, to skip me or ignore me as I fade into the background group of "people who will never understand". I fucking try. Hard. Because these people are usually there for me when I need help. It's reciprocation and returning the favor, and they won't let me. I am the desparate housewife, trying to make someone happy just for the sake of making them happy with no success. What is so wrong with me? Why am I always left out of the stuff that makes friends friends? Am I too shallow? Too selfish? Too annoying? Or is it not enough of something?

It hurts. Really.

Participation

I have a little more time now, but I'm a bit sleepy, so I'm not sure it's going to result in better stuff. Plus I'm procrastinating. And I'm hungry.

Wow. Excuses are easy to come by, aren't they?

I can't help but feel insignificant lately. Like nothing I do makes a damn bit of difference to anything. Maybe I'm just feeling a little neglected because I haven't been singled out and praised, no one's saying great things about me, no one's saying I'm just the person they wanted to see/talk to/work with/etc. I feel like the little hamster in the wheel, spinning my legs and getting nothing for my troubles.

I work my ass off in art class. I paint until the colors mix into one and I think I'm about to go blind. And then I keep painting. There's a woman who sits behind me and whines and bitches and moans that she's frustrated and it doesn't look right and there's this wrong and that wrong, causing the prof to come over and spend oodles of time with her. At one point, he was sitting there doing the painting for her. I wanted to scream. It's annoying when people pull that poor me schtick and get away with it so the teacher feels sorry for them and gives them lots of attention when I'm struggling in the corner quietly.

I work my ass off to find things out and put things together and generally be astute and observant. It seems that what I'm really doing is blending in to the background until no one can see me, and eventually can't hear me either. I've always wanted to be special in a way that no one else is, to be recognized for having something that no one else has, or doing something no one else has ever done. But the farther I get, the more I realize I've gone nowhere.

So here I am, with the special needs kids over at the state school, making believe that I am doing things that are worthwhile and hoping that someone will eventually notice. The trouble with this group, though, is that the ones lower down on the scale get all the help and encouragement, the ones higher up get all the coddling, and the ones in the middle (like me) get nada. We stay the same, because someone has to be average, right? Someone has to ooh and ahh at the chosen ones and wish they could be just a little bit better.

So that's it. I try to be just a little bit better and come to find that it's never going to be good enough. Find that I'm not really cut out to do anything or be anyone to anyone or even get an honorable mention. Yeah, I was always that kid who got the trophy for participation. Because if I'm not out there, then who will make the other kids look so brilliant?

Sorry

I have to make this quick. Damn this sucks that I'm not getting enough "me" time to do the things I like to do. Stupid work. Stupid school. Stupid everything. The diet is going ok. I don't know if I've lost any weight yet, but I feel better since I've taken control of what I eat. I weigh myself once a week. Four days to go. I can't stand it when my pants are tight in the waist.

I feel like a freak. I hate the things that happen to me in the natural course of life. One day I forget my chapstick, and the next two weeks I'm walking around with a split lip that is not only painful, but a serious eyesore. I probably look diseased. And I can't stop messing with it because it is so uncomfortable. I hate that.

I have recently been struck by the feeling that it is futile to try to look good. I will always look ridiculous. Always look a little "off". There is no escaping it. And there's nothing I can do about it. It seems like yesterday I had ideas and today they're gone completely. What's happening to me? Am I turning simple?

This is a stupid post. I'm sorry you read it. I'll do better next time.

Resolute

My motivation for the day is running out. This will be short. I've found that the upside and downside to dieting are the same thing. It's the feeling of being hungry all the time. It's a good thing because if I'm hungry, I can't be overeating (I can sit and will myself to be thinner). It's a bad thing because I hate being hungry. I've never been comfortable with it. And I've always had the habit of stuffing my face till I'm full, and even then I usually add a little more for good measure.

Maybe it's just no use. Maybe I'm meant to be a shapeless blob that oozes from one place to another. Not fat enough to grow boobs, not thin enough to be svelte. Just kind of a clumsy collection of bulges that lives somewhere in between. It is very alarming to not have my pants fit. To have to unbutton them after a large meal because they are too uncomfortable otherwise. I miss their looseness. If nothing else did, that always made me feel good. That my clothes are not squeaking in agony and counting the seconds until the next seam splits in two. Argh. I hate feeling this gross. I also hate that I have no patience with this sort of thing. I want these pounds gone NOW. That is what makes me crazy.

I think I can lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks. I'm resolute. Maybe not smart, but resolute.

Dreams and Nightmares

I woke up this morning still tired, and still creeped out by a strange dream I had. It was also a sad one involving my favorite person, who was ignoring me and talking to everyone else except me, making me pretend I was interested in watching Pinnochio when I just wanted to be noticed by him. It made me feel yucky when I woke up.

And then there's the house. The lack of peace, the lack of privacy, and the abundance of hassle and annoyance. And the workers are gone. They were so much quieter and more polite than my roommate is. Sure, come into my bedroom without knocking, I'm not important. I don't care. I'm not doing anything that might require my door to stay closed. Good thing I'm still in my pj's and not getting dressed. The courtesy for my personal space has been forgotten since I lost my shit last week. Part of me wants to lose it again (my teeth were grinding together earlier), but I'm really just too tired. She wore me down to the point where I don't really care what she does, and I'm also to the point that if I ruin any of her new construction before it can be sealed, painted, sanded or installed, I really don't care. She kind of deserves it at this point. All I want is a little consideration. A knock on the door, a warning, something that makes me think you're concerned with my comfort as you tear the house apart.

Also, I'm not in bed because I'm lazy, I'm in bed because I'm tired. Deal with it. Get over it. And don't fucking mention what time I get up to me one more time or else I'm going to start being loud when YOU are asleep and then we'll see who's lazy.

This turned into a rant on accident.

But I'm starving on this diet and I seriously need to lose these pesky 10 pounds from my gut and ass before I really start looking middle aged. I'm not ready to look middle aged. Middle aged people don't get any. Because they look middle aged and no one wants them. I have enough trouble in that department when I look cute and young and thin. I don't need things to be more difficult than they already are. Man I'm depressed. This sucks.

Diet

This is my diet. I think my whole life is a diet. I'm just now figuring it out. But I'm trying to stay in control so I don't swell to the size of a giant Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. And I'm starving. And not happy. Of course.

I want everything to be perfect. I want my life to happen. It's just not, though. Maybe my battery is dead. Or maybe I just don't have one at all. My clock is ticking in a strange way that really just pounds away, telling me I'm missing out on things everyone else has. There's this nagging feeling of never being good enough and only being a substitute until something better comes along. I can't ever seem to come out ahead. There's this thing that rocks inside me when I see how far behind I am. Chocolates are "swell", but a flower is "beautiful". The same person always makes me so much smaller. It makes me want to scream. But I can't. I have to stay quiet because it's none of my business. Nothing is. I just eat the scraps that are given to me and hope for more. I'm so stupid. I want to eat less, but I'm so hungry, I can't stop myself.

I want to eat at the table like everyone else. I don't like diets.

Tired. Headache.

Tired. Headache. The Usual. I had to get up early this morning, which means I had to go to sleep early last night, which is very difficult since I see midnight almost every night (and 1 am fairly often as well). I thought I would make myself sleep by drinking some wine, which ended up being almost an entire bottle before I felt even a little drowsy. Hence the headache today.

I think there should be laws against making people get up before sunrise.

Regardless, I'm in a fairly decent mood today. Yesterday was not so good. But sometimes my brain does things to me that make me feel yucky and I can't pull myself out of it for a while. Thoughts can be evil. But today the sun is shining and the house is quiet and I think I'll do my whining and bitching another time.

I started a serious diet yesterday because I gained 10 pounds over the summer and never got rid of it. But now my clothes are not fitting right and I'm feeling pretty grotesque so it's time to actually do something about it. Which basically means I'm going to have to control myself and not eat all the chocolates in my fridge at the same time, even though I really really want to and it's all I've thought about for the past 2 hours. And I ate two anyway. I'm going to have to keep one of those log books where you keep track of everything you eat because I have to see it on paper before it will really sink in.

But my stomach is growling right now and I don't want to feed it because that's the way it's supposed to be. I also have to brainstorm some things I can take to school with me because campus food is a huge part of my problem (right after my self-control problem) I have to think of things that are relatively healthy and don't need to be refrigerated and don't require 'fixing' in order to allow eating. Some sammiches maybe. Or veggies. Suggestions are welcome.

Fabulous

I keep track (in a casual sort of way) of how many people read this here piece of me. The information I get includes the person's location (country, sometimes a city), the time, and the entry page. If there was a Google search that led them here, it tells me what they searched for.

So I get a lot because of my link to the crazy e-Bay mom, the nude ballet, and my perfect feet(I can say that because everything else about me is so fucked up). But sometimes, there's something a little out of the ordinary that leads people down the Secrets & Lies path. Today I got one that is so awesome, I can't even imagine what kind of person started this search.

Search Terms:

"I'm so fabulous I puke glitter."

I have to say that on a day that I am in a preety not chipper mood, the fact that something like this would end up on my page makes me feel pretty good. Like google thinks I am so fabulous I puke glitter.(very few people know that about me, so Google's insight is nothing short of amazing) I often forget about how fabulous I am. There will be many stories to come about how non-fabulous I feel. But for this moment, it's all ok. Because I'm fabulous.

And I puke glitter. (among other things)

Jekyll and Hyde

I'm tired, but not as tired as I'll be tomorrow and really not as tired as I'll be on Friday. No matter. It's all the same in the end anyway. Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to sound so upbeat in real life when I don't really feel upbeat most of the time. I'm like some crazy Jekyll and Hyde. I suppose everyone is, though.

I'm ready to feel something else. I'm tired of feeling ugly and stupid and rejected and dejected. I'm ready to be one of those people who sees the silver lining all the time. Course, we all know those people are idiots because ignorance is bliss. Those people are so fricken happy because they just don't know any better.

So it looks like my roommate got a boyfriend, so the application process is now closed. Better luck next time. But now I'm brought to my next issue, which is why does every woman have a man except for me? What is my fucking problem? I'm not horribly disfigured, I'm still within birthing years (although I'm too old now to donate eggs, so that whole thing is overwith), and I'm reasonably intelligent. Yes, I'm broke. I have nothing to offer. Not even youth and beauty. So I guess that's maybe my answer.

But I can sit through a movie without talking and I can more than hold up my end of a conversation and I like lots of different kinds of music and I can drive a car without crashing it. I guess that's it. The other stuff I can think of isn't really good stuff. I still think I have the mark of the spinster. It's there, glowing red under the skin of my forehead and only men can see it. Maybe dogs too. There's no escape, so I have to make an excuse and talk about education and career and pretend none of that other stuff is important to me.

I came close to it once, and once got burned. But that doesn't mean I want to live in the cold.

Direction

I had a little bit of a mental crisis today, probably as a direct result of yesterday's thoughts. But I hate this feeling of helplessness. This feeling that my life is out of control and going nowhere. That it's going to be like this forever. I don't know how to change things. It's like I always have a grand plan for how to fix my life and it never really goes anywhere. Like I'll always be living hand to mouth, making decisions like a wild animal. I just want to feel like a normal person. I want to be able to make decisions based on what I want rather than what I can afford. I want to be able to plan my life the way I want rather than by when I have to work next. I want to be able to breathe and enjoy myself rather than scramble up a hill like that guy pushing the rock for all eternity.

The problem is how. I'm not getting any younger and I'm also not getting any closer. I look around at the soccer moms in traffic with their minivans and their power suits and I wonder if they ever feel this way. If this feeling of inadequacy ever really goes away. If there ever comes a time when you have the job and the income and the man and the kids and hobbies and you think boy, I finally have everything I want. Now I can just live my life and be happy because this is it. Now I'm really going somewhere. I have direction and I'm doing good things and making a difference.

Or maybe they feel the same as me. But I wish I could get there and see for myself before I'm too old and it's too late.

No Function

Lately I've been plaguing myself with the age old question of usefulness. It's tricky. Because sometimes it bleeds into purpose and quality and intention and then it's difficult to tell one thing from another. But the point is, I have no idea what I'm good for. What makes me worthwhile. I don't "have" anything to speak of. There are some people that you know when you meet them that they can take you places and show you things and they will generally enrich your life in a way that translates into them being good for something. But I don't have anything. I can't buy anything for anyone, I can't give them anything; food, money, shelter (although these are things I'm great at taking). I can't take them shopping or sailing or driving or horsebackriding or surfing. I can't lend them rare CD's or DVD's or out of print books or anything else they could not get on their own. I got nothin'.

I don't bring nothin' either. When people tell stories about their friends and how great they are, they're not talking about me. They might point and laugh and follow it up with 'yeah, she's pretty unbearable' or 'she deserved it', but there are no comments that exude admiration, respect, or anything else that would garner a positive opinion. I'm not self-righteously perfect, I'm not cool, I don't have 'it' together, I'm not the happiest person anyone knows, or the smartest, or the funnest, or the nicest. I'm not anything.

I have no skills. I can't make you a wine rack or fix your car or do your taxes or diagnose your symptoms or get you in or get you out or cook you dinner or get you the lowest price on anything. I tell boring stories about people you'll never meet, watch movies you've never heard of, and whine on the internet. I can probably eat more than you. And sleep more than you. Talk more than you. Which are not really qualities most people would list on any sort of place where you list your qualities.

Like on a date. Which is probably why I have none. No dates, no boyfriend, no inquiries. Everyone is figuring it out. I have no net worth. Or gross worth. I'm just gross. If FL Wright was right, and form follows function, then I should have no form at all. Because I clearly have no function.

Dear You

Dear You,

Sometimes I want to say things to you but I don't. Because I'm afraid that something bad will happen and I'll regret it forever and wonder what I should have done and what I'm going to have to do to repair everything. There are so many things you don't hear from me. Sometimes I think you know exactly what I'm thinking and feeling, but sometimes I think you really have no idea.

No idea how much I care about you, how much I want to be with you, how much I do for and because of you, and how much influence you have on my life. But at the same time, it doesn't really matter anyway. Because I have no idea what you are thinking. Sometimes I don't want to know. I often wonder how many times you think about her when you're with me. I wonder about all the things you don't tell me about and I wonder how many of them would bother me. Which also ends up being beside the point.

Because the things I really can never tell you are the things that are the most important. And I can't because you'll think I'm crazy or stupid or both. And maybe I am. But this is my confession. I wonder when you will realize that our lives didn't come together as a fluke chance, and that we are the only ones for each other. Our timing was just a little off. I wonder how you don't see that we fill a place in one another's lives that no one else can even begin to fill. You always know what I need to hear, see, or feel, and you are able to deliver it without effort. I try to do the same for you, but I can only speculate as to how close I come.

I think you really do love me, but habit is leading you astray. You are so used to loving a particular person that you can't seem to fathom how you don't love her anymore. She left you with pain that you often transfer to me with the carelessness she showed you. It is possible to love me, and I think you do. I also think that fear prevents you from seeing things in the correct light. Pain is a strange thing that twists us into shapes that are unrecognizeable. I've been some strange shapes in the past two years, but I'm getting it back.

I hope you get yours back soon. Because I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy. I'm crossing my fingers that I'm right and that you will realize how we were supposed to be here and find each other. I also hope that your heart wakes up before it's too late.

Love,
Me

Holding It

Maybe I have become a secret keeper. Or maybe just a little more tight lipped about what's going on inside my head. But I guess that's a good thing. It keeps me from getting kicked out of everything, including friendships (if only the same were true with relationships, I'd be in great shape). It doesn't feel particularly great to walk around with stuff hanging on to my ankles, but my limp is fairly unnoticeable at the moment.

So I'm sitting here, holding it in, along with the other things I have to hold in, hoping I don't have to let anything out during the night. We could have a crisis on our hands if that happens.

Hello

So I'm sure everyone hates me by now because of my inability to cope. Because I want my life to be a certain way and it's not and it freaks me out and sometimes I lose it a little. And because I get bent out of shape about things that are important to me and I get my feelings hurt and sometimes when I'm really upset I just stop talking and shut my door because I don't know what else to do.

Hello, it's me. Nice to meet you. This is who I am. Who I've always been, and will always be. I suppose I could apologize, but it's not going to change anything. I'm still going to want your sympathy, instead of you shaking your head and saying, well, buck up little soldier, cuz that's the way it is. I don't need a discount, I just don't want to be discounted. I want my problems to be taken seriously when I am pouring my self out and think I can't take it anymore.

I just don't want to feel like I'm alone in this.

Peace and Quiet

I'm a bit more calm than I was earlier today, but only because the day is over, the house is quiet, and chocolate is a miracle worker. So I got my fill so my mouth could be happy. I'm dreading what may happen tomorrow; I have no idea what it's going to be. I'm hoping to get an ETA on when my bathroom will be restored to its original grandeur.

It's been rough. I cried yesterday, and even more today, because not having a place to go that is yours is so scary. My house has been a public space, with various strangers and pseudo strangers coming and going at random, whether I like it or not. And it just got worse and worse until today and yesterday it got to the point I thought I was going to have to drown myself to get some peace because I'm essentially homeless when there's nowhere I can go and shut the door and no one else is going to follow me in. I cried on the way to the beach today. I just felt like I was completely alone and no one understands how the state of my house is affecting me, if they're even trying.

What am I supposed to do? I have a hard time keeping it together when I can come home and sit on the couch and know no one is going to come in the front door; how the fuck am I supposed to stay sane when there's nowhere to hide from all the shit that is always following me around. Where am I supposed to go to decompress? And I have to admit, I was pretty much ok until the whole lack of a bathroom thing happened. Right now, I'm wishing I could take a shower, or a nice hot bath, and neither is going to happen. It won't happen tomorrow, either. It's worse than camping. And I hate camping. I also can't do any laundry, which is mildly annoying.

All I want is a comfortable place to come home to, and if I can't have that, someone who understands my situation. And it feels like neither is going to happen anytime soon. They either think I'm lazy and deserve to be disturbed on a near constant basis (and pay for it as well), or they think I'm blowing things out of proportion and it can't possibly be as bad as I say, because I didn't get into a fight with anyone about it or make any demands or whatever, I don't know. But what I do know is that people laugh when I say yes, they woke me up AGAIN. What I do know is that I'm not happy and I want this whole fucking thing to be over. What I want is some peace and quiet.

New Year

Today is the first day of the new fiscal year. I just found that out last night. So I celebrated by hauling my ass to the beach, where everything is free, even the lifesaving. And it was a nice day on the beach, with lots of sun and the waves big as ever, crashing in a way that can be alarming every now and then. Some of the waves were as tall as me. There weren't very many people there, which is just fine with me also. I laid there by myself and tried to let all my frustration go out with the tide. It took a few hours, but it eventually did, and I came back home to the noise and the strangers and the mess and I took a nice long nap and now I feel better, but I look like hell. I probably smell like hell too, but there's nothing I can do about that since I have no shower. I'm not even really sure when it's coming back either.

I don't have to work tomorrow, and there's no school tomorrow, so I'm going to try to enjoy myself and chill out, because getting wound up about these things is not the way I want to spend my afternoons. I want to spend them thinking things that are happy and doing my work and enjoying the beach for what it is, rather than using it because it's the only place I can go that will pretty much be the same no matter what and I can never be turned away.

But for now, I'll just go give married people chicken.

Postal

I am so pissed off right now. The construction guys woke me up before 10 with a stereo playing Spanish music, and it's Saturday. They have woken me up every day this week. My roommate and her dad are here, know I sleep late, and let them. They don't wake my roommate up because she has a day job. She never sees them. She never has to deal with them being in her space and invading her peace and privacy. I have no bathroom, so I'm supposed to use hers, but last night she had some guy over so I had to hold it until this morning. I'm ecstatic about her hanging out with a guy, but this is not a good time. They could've gone to his house. If I had friends, it would alleviate the problem because I could just stay with them, but one is away for the weekend and the other one adamantly refuses to be disrupted for even one night by something as small as me being completely desparate for a quiet and comfortable place to sleep and shower. I'm upset about that too, but I'm going to let it go. It's really just par for the course.

GOD THIS SUCKS!!!!

I'm about to lose my fucking mind and I don't know what to do about it because obviously no one gives a shit that I'm teetering on the edge of sanity and I have nowhere to go to get away from this shit and I'm supposed to work tonight and I'm sure I'm going to be in a really fucking good mood by then because I'm already starting to shake and rent is due today and I don't want to pay it because I pay good money to have a suitable place to live, which I haven't fucking had for a month now and now I don't even have a place to pee or wash my body or even brush my teeth and I can't get any fucking god damn peace because they are SO FUCKING LOUD and disturbing me in ways you can only imagine.

I'll finish talking about this after I go postal.

Hotel

I'm eager to get my house back, mostly so I can mope in peace, and in private. I think it will be around Monday, but for now, the situation has reached an all time low. The bathroom sink is gone, and the toilet has been moved to the shower, so I literally have no pot to piss in. I'm suddenly living in a developing country, where there is just a hole in the floor. To say I'm not pleased is something of an understatement.

I have nowhere else to go, but I did flirt with the idea of shelling out fifty bucks for a hotel room. I ended up being too lazy to make a reservation, too exasperated with everything else that's going on. I can sit on a cloudy beach for the day, but I can't sleep there, or shower there. So now I'm sitting here with a half full glass of water, but I'm afraid to drink it because I don't want to get acquainted with a bush in the middle of the night. That hotel room is looking better and better.

I shoulda shelled out the clams.