Happens

It's the last day of the year, and the commentator for the Bronco game keeps using the same phrase "he squirts through the hole", which I'm finding increasinlgy annoying, just because I hate the word "squirt". I even hate the drink. It's raining here, which sucks, because I wanted to visit the ocean one last time before tomorrow. Oh well.

I guess one might say I'm making resolutions, but I never thought of them that way. They're really more like decisions about what might be coming next for my life. It's a little bit of a secret, even to me. But one thing I have decided is that something is going to happen no matter what. And whatever happens, happens.

Hangin'

I'm not sure whay to say. I want to be a different person; one that is not bitter and angry and mean like I have become. I don't like being this person. Part of me wants to say that it's perfectly natural for me to feel this way, but I know I don't have to be that way. I'm just allowing myself to be sucked into the black hole of indignance and justification and entitlement that's so in right now.

But I want to be the forgiving, trusted person I should be. I'm just not sure how to be that. Because I find myself hurting more than I find myself helping and I'm so good at being enemy to myself. Sigh. It shouldn't be this difficult, but for some reason it is. And these are problems that take so much sorting and sifting that the pro at the club is going to have her hands full if we ever get to that part.

So maybe the only thing I really need to cultivate is patience, because impatience is what has gotten me into all this troulbe in the first place. I just need more than I have, and I need a little more from my friends too. Just don't leave me hangin'.

Republish

Republished post from a few months ago (probably the only non-whiny post since May):

It was a weary weekend. And a wild one. I almost feel like I live with my parents again, sneaking out of the house and trying to be the first one home so I won't have to explain where I've been.

But I don't care. Because I had an amazing time. I don't really know how to describe it, except that I experienced something I never expected. And I don't even know what to call it. But my memory is of the inside of my leg from my groin to my ankle being numb, losing track of time and space, and thinking of Greek sculpture. I remember a shortness of breath, sweat, and the most wonderful kisses one could imagine.

There's this mechanism inside me that likes making people happy. It sometimes turns itself around several times into being happy that someone else was happy because he made me happy, but it happened. The simple fact that someone would want to go to great lengths to make me happy is enough to make me jump for joy, but that he was actually able to make me happy made me swoon. Really. And naturally, I want to return the favor. I'm not keeping score, I just like doing things for others. It is better to give than receive. Right?

At times, I wish I could decifer the long, unblinking stare. I know exactly what I am thinking, but have little guidance as to his brain's inner workings. I would give anything to know. But I suppose I'll live without. I know that my memory of last night will stay with me for a long time. It will live in my body as something that is quiet but prodding. I found some more of it after a phone call with him today. Not that I'm surprised.

I'm tired. I'm sore. But I reached a point of relaxation yesterday that I have not found since June, or maybe even before that. A place of feeling wanted, desired, and needed. A place of feeling important because someone else is making an effort for me. A place of feeling incredibly beautiful and sexy because he still wants me in spite of himself. And I am not one to say no.

I am one to say yes yes yes. I am one to say exactly what I think; exactly what I feel. I am not a faker. Or a fakir. I am just a simple person. With simple needs. And every now and then, someone will meet one of those needs. And let me say for the record, my need last night was not only met, but surpassed.

The Club of Belonging

I'm sitting at the desk of my hotel room, waiting for the heat to kick in and squeezing out the last couple hours of internet service I purchased yesterday. It seems that nothing is free anymore, except those little chocolates they leave when they turn down the bed. One of the perks to staying in overpriced, snobby hotels. I just heard the heat kick in.

I thought I would be bored here with no one to talk to, but I find it amazingly wonderful to be quiet all day and not talk to anyone. To memorize the shape of the ceiling and compare it to the shape of the bathroom ceiling. To listen to the click of someone walking above me, the family next door scrutinizing the sunset, and the elderly couple behind me at lunch congratulating themselves on "being smart" and planning ahead and getting the most for their money. I like wandering around, trying to figure out where stuff is without help.

I found myself planning out my day in a haphazardly way, with some lunch here, then a hot bath, a nap, walk to the beach, read, watch the sunset, do some research, order dinner, then visit the hot tub, and then see what happens. It seems like my life could be like this if I could just get rid of the clutter. Which is a gargantuan task (much bigger than it would seem to be).

There is still a hint of loneliness that I get from being alone, but only because I don't choose to be alone, I just am. At least I'm not required to hide it at the moment. In the past, I have always hated holidays because I had to work. I was operating on the premise that I was missing something because if I didn't have to work, someone special would invite me over for an evening of hanging out for no other reason than because it might be fun and because it's a holiday. I would go to work irked that I could be doing something fun with someone special, and be nearly brought to tears by the end of the evening because I had missed out (yet again) on enjoying a holiday. But this month, I have realized that all this work/holiday hostility is really just the construction I have created. I'm not at work, and I'm not with anyone special. There are no invites, no special evenings of shared experience. So really, work was actually protecting me from the simple fact that I am not special enough to be allowed in on the holiday cheer. I am only allowed to press my nose up against the glass and watch others share something that they can cherish for many years to come, wishing I could gain entry into what now seems to be the most exclusive club ever: The Club of Belonging.

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

P.S. Merry Christmas, or something like that.

During the Holidays

Of course, there is always a James Bond marathon to watch over the holidays. And if there was a movie title that could embody my life, Dr. No is it. I have a PhD in no. At least getting them. What a pro. Too bad there's not a job for that. So now I'm killing time after planting a plant until I have to go to work and be depressed and stuff my face with as many sweets as I can fit in my mouth.

Tomorrow I have lots to keep me busy, but I'm sure it will all go undone so that I can mope and feel sorry for myself in true holiday fashion. What fun.

Today he was saying how the ex's always change into people he doesn't recognize. He said he doesn't see me as that kind of person. I tried to think of a change I've made for someone else, but realized that a few weeks isn't enough time for anyone to change me. They just dump me instead, seeing that I'm not worth the trouble. He also said that he takes it personally that they would rather be with someone else than with him and I can't help but want to smack him. It does suck when ex's move on without you, but I feel that it's worse when they would rather be alone than be with you. He would rather have no one than me. How do you think that makes me feel? So I must say that it makes me feel a bit patronized when he tells me how great I am. Yeah, great, but not great enough. Thanks a bunch. He'd rather spend a night with his couch than with me. It's like I'm some sort of vampire; he's afraid to see me at night. So it's lunch, or breakfast, with a two hour time cap so he can get on with his life and I can't make too big a dent in it before I go. So the friends he really likes get to come over, take him out, have drinks, all sorts of things and I get scrambled eggs. Don't get me wrong, I like scrambled eggs. I also like champagne and dinner salads and talking until the wee hours without a scheduled end time that makes me feel like an intruder. But whatever, when one has so few friends like myself, it's not really for me to be able to choose my time. I have to take whatever I can get. Even during the holidays. Especially then.

Somebody

So here I am, on yet another holiday, alone. What a surprise. I tried to find someone to spend it with me, but his crotch is too powerful and he can't take the pressure. So either way, I'm the one that gets screwed. Tomorrow I'll drive up the coast and have dinner with 40 people I don't know, then bed down in a hotel room and watch HBO till my eyes fall out. Doesn't that sound like fun? Don't you wish you could be there? Guess who doesn't? If I sound bitter, it's because I am. But that should come as no big surprise after all this time.

I wish I could say I like the holidays, but of course that kind of mirth is long forgotten. I don't remember the last really good holiday I had. And if a gal can't at least have good holidays, then what is the point of living? Oh yes, HBO. And good room service. I guess my strategy has turned into making my own "fun", which essentially consists of driving to strange places and acting like I'm somebody, even though everyone will know better, because if I were really somebody, I wouldn't have nobody with me. God I'm a loser.

Freedom of Speech

My rights are gone. I no longer have free speech. I just realized it today, and it made me pretty sad. I guess I've been sad about it all along, but once I thought about it like that, it kind of made things worse than they arleady are. I was sitting across from him at lunch, picking at mystery meat and tzatziki sauce and I looked up. There were all these things floating around in my head that I wanted to say, and I couldn't utter a single one. Every one of them is now out of bounds because it is either too emotional, or inappropriate, or will get no response whatsoever, which is really the worst of them all. So I look at him, trying to think of something we can talk about, and he looks at me and there is this silence. So I pick at the fries and look at the crazy bluetooth guy and wish I had something acceptable to say, and wonder where I ever went wrong. But I derailed so long ago, it's impossible to find the exact wrong turn. I've made many since then. And before that, for that matter.

Later, I was soaking in the tub, reflecting on my life, wondering what I was doing naked in a bath by myself. And the answer: There is something wrong with me. No one has been good enough to tell me what it is, so I'm not getting the lesson. I am getting this one: I'm thirty years old and no one wants me. Worse yet, no one has ever wanted me. I flip through the rolodex of ex's, wondering what they would say if I asked them why they didn't want me and I can't really think of what they might say except for things like: you scared me, or you're weird, or something equally stupid. If I could even get the truth from them.

So that's it. I can get naked and get no attention for it, spend time with a man and have nothing suitable to say, or invite a friend to spend a couple of days with me and get a fucking stupid answer like "thanks for thinking of me", which translates to: you fucking stupid girl, I don't want to be caught alone with you for any amount of time because you're weird and scary and a plethora of other things are wrong with you that I will never tell you the truth about because I'm a man and telling the truth is against my gender. Sorry, but that's the breaks, kid.

Well, if I did have the freedom of speech, I would say one of two things:

1. Fuck off
2. I love you

Fast Forward

I am so discouraged. I want to move somewhere else and it's not going very well. I hate this feeling. The feeling of being out of control, broke, and generally unhappy. It's like things are working against me on all sides. It's such a complicated thing because it seems like it comes out of nowhere and grabs onto me. I'm so easily discouraged when things don't go well; every setback seems 100 times bigger than it really is. But it still sucks. I want to push fast forward and skip to the part where things are going my way. Is that even possible? Sometimes it seems like that part is so far ahead, I'd be skipping several years of my life. But on the other hand, it seems like so many of the previous ones have been wasted anyway.

Out

Tomorrow is the last day of finals, and it's about time. Of course, the dance final is last, and my body is on its last legs. My feet are killing me, my knee is tweaked, and my back is giving me a shout out that is pretty uncomfortable. But the good part is that after tomorrow, I can go back to being depressed without interruptions of school and work. Consecutive fun-filled days of trying to find reasons to get out of bed, which will ultimately find me in bed until one or two in the afternoon.

I would like to say that I'm going to use the break to do things that are useful, but it's hard to find useful things to do when I don't even know what direction I'm going. Out, I guess.

I Tell Her

Since I've hired a professional, I've started having imaginary conversations with her in between our little visits. It makes me think I really am crazy, becuase when I actually do go down to the club, I don't talk about the things I talk about with her in my head. I tell her I don't believe in categories, that I wish I felt good enough to get out of bed every day of the week, that I wish I knew why I have been alone my whole life, and if it's going to continue for very much longer. I tell her that I know I'm irrational, delusional, and twist people's words to fit the feeling I get from them. I tell her that I am entitled to get angry but I don't know how to do it. Not for real. I tell her that I wish someone paid attention to me, and that I wish there was someone that wanted attention from me, because I have a lot of attention to pay. I tell her that I wish I was prettier or smarter or had some trait that made me a little more memorable or recognizeable. I tell her I wish I could win something. Money, a car, an award, a gift certificate, a heart, anything.

And then I tell her she dresses funny, but it's endearing.

Famous Lines

Famous Lines that Stick in My Head:

1. This isn't a cancellation, it's a postponement.
2. This won't ruin our friendship; it will bring us closer together.
3. I'm never going to leave you.
4. We'll talk tomorrow.
5. You can call me any time.
6. I like it when you call.
7. I always make a point to let you know how glad I am to see you.
8. You are important in my life.
9. You are so amazing.
10. You are always welcome.
11. Thank you.

Thanks

The pro at the club seems to be pretty nonchalant about my life. She doesn't see it as the dire black hole I see it as. I guess that's ok. She'll figure it out eventually. It's been a rough week. And now I get to rest, more or less, for a couple of days. Maybe I'll even feel better at the end of them, because I sure don't right now.

On Monday, he was excited to see me, gave me a big hug, the whole show. Then he said, hey, let's hang out on Saturday night, want to? And I said sure, if I don't have to work. And I actually felt good about it. All I ever wanted was for him to just want to hang out with me without a premise, without an agenda, without a time limit. And here it was. I couldn't believe it. And he said, if you can't do it on Saturday, maybe Sunday, or even next week. It will be fun.

And it was nice to be wanted, even if only for a short time.

The next time I saw him was Wednesday, and I think he may have said two words to me in that clipped way that he does that actually says, "you are a burden and I wish you would go away". But keep me posted about Saturday. Alright, it's a freebie, I'll let it go. Thursday. How about Saturday? At which point I'm pretty suspicious since he's so adamant about Saturday. I have to work. Fuck! And now I know something's up. He didn't want to hang out with me without a premise, without an agenda, without a time limit. He wanted someone to go to a jazz concert with. And now Sunday is also out, because he might go to this other thing with someone he's not going to bother to mention (because it's of course none of my business) even though I like her and wouldn't care. Him not telling me makes me care. It makes me think he's hiding things and it makes me not trust him. Especially when I find out about it from her a few hours later.

So now, the story has changed to: I'm not excited to see you anymore, and we'll hang out with a premise and a time limit, because that's the only way that is possible apparently. Always letting me know that I'm not worth a damn. Thanks. And while I'm handing out thanks, throw in that girl tonight that you smoked with while I stood there and watched you fuck with the lighter. Thanks for flirting with her, and thanks for not offering me any. Thanks for leaving me completely out of the things that you care about. Thanks for making me cry when I was trying to explain things by saying "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!"; that made me feel really great. Thanks for saying "Thank you" when you should be saying something else, because saying thank you is such a fucking brush off it makes me want to scream. Oh yeah, and in case you forgot about yelling at me on Thursday, thanks for treating me like an employee. That's always one to make me feel like I have friends.

Thanks.

School

Man, I'm really a mess. My ears are ringing, I think I have indigestion, and my life is in a general state of low to mid-grade crisis. I decided I need to live in a different house, as this one has ceased to be a place that is comfortable for me. I have also ceased trying to have any time to myself, as that is clearly out of the question. I see that my life is lacking certain things, and I want to actively try to figure out a way to get them, but I just don't know where to start. It seems impossible. I feel like a lost cause. I decided to go pro a couple of weeks ago, but the pros are not as helpful so far as I would like. There is this strange casualness about categorization and analysis that I find insulting and alarming. I may be an amateur, but I can still see a curveball when it comes my way. (don't bother trying to make sense of it--it's easier that way)

So yes, school. Why do I go to school? Because I like to learn things. When will I get out? It's starting to look like never. Because I don't see anything out there that looks any better. But the crux of the situation is that school can only do so much. It keeps me poor, it keeps me busy, it forces me to do work (as in paying jobs) that I don't particularly enjoy. The rewards are the feeling that I am making myself better, but who cares about that? I may be better than I was 10 years ago, but that doesn't really mean anything to anyone. I'm still alone in the woods of Centennial Walk. When I need a hug, school doesn't do it. When I'm sick, school doesn't take care of me. When I need to be loved, school isn't there for me. School is essentially nothing. And I've filled my life with it. No wonder my life feels so empty.

I keep wondering why I stay, but I actually know. Because there's no improvement on the other side of it. I'd have to work just as hard at a job I don't like because I'm not qualified to do anything enjoyable, make a pittance that would end up going straight into the financial aid mountain of loans I have meticulously created. And that job will be no better than school, because it doesn't take care of me, hug me, or love me. Jobs and schools are not my friends. And since the flesh and bone kind waved goodbye a long time ago, I'm stuck muttering to myself about nothing like a crazy person at the bus stop. Which is where I will probably end up anyway.

Inside

I spent all of today at home. I didn't even go out the front or back door. All inside. It feels great on one hand, and depressing on the other. Nothing was more interesting than the couch. No one invited me anywhere. Not that they ever do anyway. So everything stayed inside today. My body, my thoughts, all that stuff. And of course there's never anything good to eat there. Just junk that's laying around.

I can't help but feel like a loser on a day like today. Everyone else has stuff going on, places to be, people to see, stuff to get ready for. I have nothing. No one. I'm not pretty, not smart, not clever or funny. And everyone that's moving around me thinks I'm lazy and just sit around the house and do nothing all the time. They just don't know that I actually have no friends to do anything with, and that's why I'm watching some stupid show on VH1 all day. They don't know that I'm terrified of graduating from school because I have no skills to make money, which is why I'm neglecting my school work. They don't know that I'm angry at my family, or that I hate my job, or that I even dislike living in this house. They don't know that I feel so trapped in this life that I'm paralyzed to do anything about it. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't know where to start fixing it. They don't know that I don't have anyone to talk to, no one calls me, and everyone is really just to busy to think about what I'm doing or even how I'm doing. Because it never occurred to anyone that I might not be doing just fine.

Because I've kept it inside. Just like today. And I guess every day.

Either Way

I'm not feeling very good. I'm not feeling bad either. I could go either way. I think my body is fighting some disease that is running around town, because I have tiny symptoms nagging me. This isn't such a great time for me to be sick, either. Today is the day of the roomie's girl party, one that would be complete if it had a Tupperware demonstration at the end. It's a day I'm thankful I have to work. It's a day I'll be hiding in my room, thankful for the excuse that I think I'm getting sick. Thankful I have to go to someone else's Christmas party and serve hors d'evours and watch white people dance badly.

I should go to the store and pick up some OJ, but I'm going to wait until tomorrow. The grocery store isn't my favorite place in the world, so yes, I avoid it whenever possible. Plus they have champagne on sale, and even though I'm broke, I fear the temptation will be to powerful for me to resist.

Anyway, welcome to December, where it finally rains in California. Everyone else has cold and maybe even snow, but today it is sunny here. On a side note, I still haven't heard from any members of my family. The last time we talked was when I called my mom for her birthday at the beginning of November. There was no call on Turkey Day, and hasn't been one. I booked a flight home during my break, but I guess they will never know about it if they don't bother to call me. They have two more holidays to try before my flight. I hope they don't blow it.

Back to life. Back to reality. I could go either way.

Jury's Out

So the jury is currently out. Am I a good friend or a bad friend? Bad person or good person? Selfish or just tired? So this friend, the one I've recently complained about, is still distraught about her problems, which are a result of her recent departure from reality. She's completely delusional, and on top of that, is refusing every effort at constructive help from people who care about her. Including me. So yes, she's really upset, and I've never seen her so out of sorts. Yes, I'm sympathetic, and am willing to lend my support in any way she asks. Even though she's not going to ask.

So here's the rub: someone else told me I need to be a friend to her. Nevermind that two weeks ago I had a meltdown that left me paralyzed in a poorly lit parking lot and wishing for a carjacking to put me out of my misery. Nevermind that I haven't felt this depressed, lonely, or unwanted in many many many years (if ever). The important thing is to be available to someone else, who has no idea (because she never bothered to talk to me) what I'm going through.

I'm not asking her to be normal, because she never will be. Neither will I. I'm just asking for her to think about someone else every now and then and realize that it's not always going to be about her and her problems. I'd also like for other people to realize that I have my own problems as well and I do what I can. And I will continue to do so. Because that's all I know how to do. And it's all I'm able to do.