We, Julie

Progress Report 0

2010-05-31T17:52:00.002-05:00

No progress report this week. Had a lousy weekend and don't feel like describing it. Miss Jack terribly. Happy birthday.

Mid-Year Resolutions

2010-05-25T23:38:00.003-05:00

I need to start taking this (this = life) seriously. I can't wait around for January to change shit. Change happens now. My blog will, from here on out, be updated weekly every Sunday as a progress report on how I'm accomplishing these goals. (Emo rambling is has already proven to be counter-productive.)

Here are my current long-term goals:

1) Get in shape. From now on, a jog every morning and every evening, coupled with push-ups and sit-ups. This will improve my health and be good exercise for Shamus. Finished my first jog already. My plan for sit-ups and push-ups is to find out how many I can do, then do that many and raise it by one each week. If there's no marked improvement by January in my stamina and muscle build, I'll join a real gym. Also, by the time I graduate, I'm going to quit chewing tobacco, something I'm reluctant to do but would have to do sooner or later anyway. This will save money, plus my teeth.

2) Blitz my way through college. I'll start with one class in the fall to get myself into gear, then do two a semester until finished. Including both summer sessions, I can, in theory, graduate in spring 2012. That's what I'm aiming for.

3) Get my finances in order. I'm diverting all money towards college and nothing else. Assuming no major setbacks, this is doable, though it will mean forfeiting luxuries such as cable and new clothes and crap I frankly just don't need right now. I'll be making minimum payments on my student loan (current balance: about $2,300) and focus on paying it off after I get my degree. As far as housing goes, I think I've got myself covered. No house, no expensive apartment. A room rental from some friendly, dog-liking Mormons at my church will take care of that. If I win my court case in September, I'm going to put the money in savings and probably use it toward classes; I can quit my job in my last semester and go fulltime to ensure I get my degree "on time," by which I mean two years later than originally planned. If things get really over-the-top difficult to pay for, my parents have offered me housing and a transfer to a university in Illinois, which I'm taking into serious consideration. Which leads to...

4) Renewing my relationship with my family. We don't get to choose our families but I firmly believe God has a plan in putting certain people together, even if they don't see eye-to-eye. If nothing else, I owe my parents the courtesy of keeping in touch, what with the whole giving-me-life thing. I think that if I prove my responsibility financially and demonstrate my commitment towards my education, they'll be more inclined toward forgiving me. (I am, after all, the first born. That's got to count for something.)

5) Getting my career together. Okay, technically, working in a department store in the mall is not a "career." But it is my livlihood. My current salary is okay, but I think it could be better. I've mentioned an interest in working in a commissioned sales area, like the women's shoe department. (Also, fun fact: due to liabilities, I will no longer name the company I work for, either now or in the future.) If I can't get the position I want, I'm going to begin looking for a job working in a nursing home or assisted living facility. This has benefits such as better pay, more relevance to my major, and also regular hours, which will help me balance my school schedule. Also, once I bolster my GPA, I'm going to look into one of the work programs with the University. There are semester-long jobs that count for "practical" credits, which would get me experience, a salary, and fulfill the requirements for practical requirements in the biology major. I already discussed this with my advisor, who says that there's an 80% chance of getting a paid intership if I get myself up to a 3.0 GPA. (My current GPA is around a 2.77. However, I've also discussed the possibility of "late withdrawal" for the all the classes I fucked up during junior semester, which would boost my GPA considerably.)

6) Get my ass into counseling. I need the support to be able to get my degree, get my goals actualized and my mind in order. There are services like this offered through the university which I should have taken advantage of a long time ago.

7) Swear off men for a while. I don't care if motherfucking Price Charming rolls up in a silver carriage: so far, my relationships have proved to be major distractions and have ended in heartache and conflict. I'm clearly not mature enough yet for one, and need to get my education, degree, and mental health in order before I even attempt to forge another one.

Okay, ready, Jules? On the count of three.

One... two... three... GO!

A Month Later

2010-05-25T19:22:00.002-05:00

These memories are like bodies in the ocean: bloating, then fading, floating only briefly before trailing down into the depths, to settle gracefully at the bottom, be swept away, torn apart, rendered immaterial and unconfirmable.

Some stills: his aproned mother baking cookies, the candles flickering on the porch, a candy wrapper placed thoughtlessly in front of a picture of the last family vacation.

These last months have been magical in a way words can never capture, and now they are over. I've come to many realisations.

One: It's time to focus. This isn't the story of Peter Pan; I need to grow up and get my life in gear. The next two years will be a blitz of college classes, hopefully ending in a diploma.

Two: I don't belong here. These people are not my people. They're strangers. I will hurt them if they let me and I will let them hurt me because of how much I love them. This is unfair to both parties. It's time to let go now.

Three: Love is a bitch. I'm casting whatever optimism I had about love to the sea along with the memories I should have been recording here. Jack: you changed my life. You breathed life into me again and I'm going to be okay. But your work is finished now. I'm sorry if we lose contact, but I can't be distracted by you, and nothing's more distracting than heartache. The simple fact is that I was as attractive, charming, clever, and compromising as I could be, and I failed you. Someday, some other girl will pick up the slack for me, and you'll fall in love and see how wonderfully intoxicating it is.

I feel like Brandy all over again. Double points go for the appropriateness of the sea motif.

Love really is a bitch.

At least two years from now I can finally graduate. It's only going to cost... $649 per credit? But that would be like... thirty grand. That's like... more than two years income.

Fuck you, college. Fuck you real, real hard. If this stupid court case doesn't come through for me, I'm going to have to resort to plan C. *sighs*

Looking Ahead...

2010-04-27T17:27:00.001-05:00

Good news, everyone!

Having gotten over the self-depreciation of last night, I think I've found a viable solution to my housing/tuition problems.

Talking with my father made me realise a few things.

One is that I'm not thinking clearly about my goals. Buying a house is something I can afford, but at the cost of putting off college more. What I need to do is divert all my finances to tuition. Not housing. I think I have a few solutions and I'm planning to enroll either for summer's second session or, at the very latest, for fall. I think I can finish in two or three years (more likely three). We'll see how this all plays out.

I'd give a longer update, but I have to go pick up Alice. I'm feeling hopeful right now for the future.

FML

2010-04-26T21:13:00.002-05:00

Dear Blog,

Well, I have bad news and... and bad news.

Let's see.

First of all, my lease ends in August. I need to find a place to stay. I'm completely at the end of my rope right now, because renting costs are astronomical and buying a house seems like only a distant possibility. Today I looked at a few in my price range and they were in overwhemlingly poor condition. I'm going to definitely need to find a roommate and I don't think Ben will do anymore; he's bringing me down motivationally and emotionally.

I called my dad to get some advice and he quoted my blog to me (yep, you!), which was disconcerting but not unexpected. I've long assumed that my family had access, at least subconsciously, and I'm mostly relieved. I feel bad that they had to read through some of it (specifically, the sex stuff). And I also feel bad that I painted them in a bad light, because I do have a habit of portraying people as black-and-white, which is unfair. But like I said: I'm mostly relieved. Because what better way to get to know me than through my writing. It's all one big metaphor which ends on the same bittersweet note: I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm probably ruining my life.

I assume they still read, so here's some tidbits they might find interesting:

1) You were right. You were totally and completely right about Ben, and I fucked up big time.

2) I totally lied to you and I'm sorry, but I did it mostly out of fear of the consequences of telling the truth, because I'm neurotically scared of getting in trouble. And obviously, I'm in much deeper shit than if I had told the truth, but I clearly wasn't thinking right.

3) I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I discounted your advice, which so far has proven to be 100% correct, and I'm sorry because I've been a privileged, dishonest brat of a child who took advantage of you and totally failed to appreciate what I had until I lost it.

4) I totally regret everything and I'm sick of living in abject poverty and going nowhere in my life. I wish I could start over, but obviously can't.

5) I don't think I can ever look either of you in the face again because I'm really ashamed and kind of disgusted with myself right now, and even though you said I can re-earn your trust, I doubt I can and don't even want to try because I'll probably realistically fuck up all over again.

So now what?

I won't have anywhere to live come August, except for a $700/month apartment, on a $1000/month income, and no roommate. I don't have any savings and no way to return to school, and with the current place I occupy, no hope of saving anything, either.

I have absolutely no one to rely on, since all my friends totally left me, and Ben's gone, and Jack and Andrew leave in two weeks, and I've pretty much isolated my entire family by being a bitch. (It's nice to know that my one talent, Creative Writing, has bitten me in the ass so thoroughly.) (Of course, I have only myself to blame for that.) (Side note: Is it worse to write my innermost thoughts here or keep them secret? If I never aired them out, I would have less conflict in my life, but the conflict I never started would remain unresolved. Ugh. Fucking roundabout justifications.)

There has to be some option here I'm not considering. What am I overlooking? Surely there's some sort of situation where I can find a stable place to live and gather up the funds to re-enter school, short of prostitution or drug dealing.

Well, I'm trying to find a second job, but working myself to death seems to be a rather inelegant solution to this whole mess.

Not for the first time, I wish I were someone else. Specifically, someone who was less likely to fuck herself over again and again and again.

2010-04-22T23:03:00.001-05:00

Tonight, for the first time in weeks, I'm sleeping at my place. Jack has a test to study for. I'm in a state of panic because I'm in a state of panic; if this is only one night how will I ever function without him? Forever?

It will pass. Time has a way of dulling things.

So much anxiety right now. Damn it, this is stupid. Pull yourself together, Julie.

This Feeling So Much Bigger Than Me

2010-04-22T11:21:00.003-05:00

Things here are chugging along nicely.

I've found a house I plan to buy. 27K, three story brick. My credit is superb so all I really have to worry about is the down payment. I'll need a car, also, but again, with my credit score, this won't pose a problem.

Roughly three weeks until the boys leave. I've spent every night at Jack's for weeks, which is probably for the best, since Ben feels queer sharing a bed with me, as we're no longer together by any stretch of the imagination.

The nightmares started up again in full swing but I seem to be relatively stable, with minimal switching out.

I'm getting more and more worried about Jack's departure. He and Andrew both suggested to me, separately, that I ought to vent to Andrew, since we're not romantically involved. But I can't do this. First of all, telling anything to Andrew could potentially get back to Jack through twin telepathy. Secondly, I don't want to open myself up. (You don't let a tiger out of a cage unless you're sure you can control it.) (Jack might be upset if I maimed his brother and ate him.) And third, I just don't want Andrew to see me upset. Besides, the one time I started venting, he essentially told me to shut up, in nicer terms, of course, so while the invitation to vent was a nice gesture, I feel that in practice it would be extremely irritating to him.

This weekend we plan to go camping.

I've been so busy my blogging has become lacklustre. Plus, I fear one of the twins might read this. Plus, I can rarely think of anything to say. My anxiety can't be worded right. Also, I have an irrational fear that if I blog this, I'll read back and remember it wrong and it'll be like it didn't happen. Irrational, I know, but somehow, I feel it's better to keep my memories to myself, and if I forget them, at least it won't hurt anymore.

I worry about the future, even though it seems to be coming together nicely. What good's an empty house, anyway?

Two Weeks Later

2010-04-12T19:19:00.003-05:00

Oh, God!

I haven't updated and already my memories are slipping from me.

Easter weekend. Let's think, brain. I got up. I had sex. I went to the dog park. We went to church, got Indian food, came home. These bullet points will help me later down the road.

The weather is so nice out now. I should be panicking but I feel optimistic.

Ben and I had a serious conversation last night, and one last kiss. The lease ends in August. I've already found a new place, or at least I think I have. It's a house... well, a trailer. But let's keep in mind I'm down on my luck.

I worry that I'll forget these wonderful memories if I don't blog them, but I don't know how. Words are still lost to me. But my appetite is normal, and I'm confident about going back to school in the autumn, sans Jack.

Is this what it's like to be normal?

Thoughts on Work and the Buzzing Noise Under my Hood

2010-03-31T23:07:00.003-05:00

Time for some panic!

1) The car is acting up. Loud noises, a buzzing noise under the engine, and trouble accelerating. My guess is it's the manifold exhaust. Dammit. This is going to cost a fortune and in the meantime I'll need to take the bus, which will also cost a fortune and is totally inconvenient.

2) I've been spotting a lot lately. Jack appears to have done some major damage over the weekend. Great.

3) Talked with Colleen at work. She's the closest thing to a friend I have, extreme negativity aside. So basically, the short version of our conversation is that everyone at work has this vested interest in my personal life. Now, I don't mind that too terribly. There are a few people at work I'm close to who I talk to about it, and I understand how word gets around, but the thing that bothers me is:

a) Everyone talks behind my back. That's sort of not cool. My business is my business; I wouldn't talk about anyone else's personal life behind their back, and I expect the same courtesy.

b) All the managers are in the know. Again, not a big deal by itself, except that I don't want them to think badly of me. I don't like the idea of people gathering behind closed doors and saying I'm crazy and saying how awful my personal life is, especially since it doesn't impact my work at all.

c) Apparently a ton of people read my blog. I'm uncomfortable with this because I don't want EVERYONE to have access. I mean, I wouldn't confide my problems in someone who might be offended, but now that people are sharing links, there's a definite possibility that everyone knows I'm crazy and also are judging me. Not cool.

ATTN. MACY'S EMPLOYEES: I don't care what you know, but honestly, stop painting me badly. I wouldn't do that to you, and what goes around comes around. Please consider the detrimental effects of gossiping about my lifestyle before doing so, and also please keep in mind not EVERYONE wants or needs to know. There's a reason I talk selectively to people about this stuff: it's potentially offensive and, again, doesn't have any bearing on the workplace. Sheesh.

Maybe I'm being paranoid, but you know, things get out and I don't want people judging me. I'm damn good at my job, if I do say so myself, and I like to think I'm on decent terms with most of the other employees. The idea of people I barely know whispering crap about me and reading my intermost thoughts is disconcerting, to say the least.

In the meantime, I'm going to go ahead and assume I can trust no one. You tell a couple seemingly cool people about your love life and suddenly everyone knows? Again... not cool. If I wanted EVERYONE to know, I'd get on the intercom and be like, "Attention Macy's shoppers! I'm a degenerate! I have lots of sex, and also I think my exhaust manifold is broken! ...that is all."

Ugh. I'm really disgusted with the situation, but really, I sort of have myself to blame. Shouldn't have trusted anyone. Also, the link to my blog is on my FB, so it's not like it's totally inaccessible. Anyone with the interest could find it easy enough.

Still, I could just be paranoid. Also, I'm getting all my info from Colleen, who's getting it from another source, and I can't let rumors of rumors about me interfere with my emotions. At the end of the day, I go to work and do what I'm paid to do, regardless of what anyone thinks about me on a personal level. Best to forget it and carry on. That's life, eh?

Speaking of carrying on, the interview with Wal-Mart was a total bust. They wouldn't hire me because I already work for one of their "competitors," and it would be a "conflict of interest." Man, Wal-Mart has some serious delusions of grandeur if they believe they're on par with Macy's. Oh well. There's still at least a dozen other places. I'll get a second job soon enough, and if not, I'm doing fine with my current income. (At least, I was, until the car decided to go haywire. Ughhh... *buries face in hands*)

Not About Jack or Tom or Death (Okay, Maybe a Little)

2010-03-30T18:37:00.003-05:00

Today, Julie presents a special entry that's not related to things that have penises.

Instead, she has some smashing news.

First of all, bang-up weekend. Yoga, kayaking, sex. All good things.

Second of all, interview tomorrow! Economy be damned, I'm after a second job and I aim to get it!

Brief mental update: no deeply disturbing dreams, unless you count the one where Jack got mad at me for wanting to have sex with Andrew in a horticultural lab, which was really more weird than disturbing.

Finances are stable, which is the best I can hope for, and I have big plans for the future! I know what I want to do, where I want to go, and how's best to get there. Yes, indeed, all in all I'm quite pleased with myself and am trying rather desperately to be eccentrically cheerful as April looms forward.

Damn you, time, why can't you stop? Why can't you grind to a halt and leave me be? Can't you see I'm happy here?

Post Script

2010-03-28T19:26:00.002-05:00

When he first collared me, it was on the first notch. It moved to the second, now the third. I scratch the back and find an indent in my skin, and become aware of how briefly that will fade when my collar is removed. The old fantasy surfaces: Jack's hands, coming around my throat, not to claim possession of me but to release me. Panic surfaces in my throat, kept in check by the tightness of the collar, and I break my own rule to read the letter behind the incense burner on the second shelf.

Preservation (49)

2010-03-28T18:42:00.005-05:00

So last night went brilliantly. If you think that statement is going to coincide with a positive blog entry, you either haven't been reading enough or you're oblivious to the way my mind works. Emo rants are coming. You've been warned. Really, you could stop reading now.

Right... NOW!!

Why are you still reading??

Alright, so the reason I say it went brilliantly is that, Tom came by and we (me, him, the twins) went to Shaver's Creek, started a camp fire, and swung round on some old dead vines. (Remember, I haven't seen Tom since August, when I was on a path of destruction and puked in what I think might have been his sock drawer.)

Afterwards, we went to the Corner Room and then to the HUB to play boardgames. It was a nice, normal night and I'm glad to say they really hit it off just like I'd hoped.

As we were making our way back, the conversation took a turn, albeit a brief one.

"I really thought you'd be dead by now," said Tom.

"Me too," I said.

Silence for only a brief moment, and then it was passed. The most important part was unspoken: we're glad I'm not.

I'm crossing my fingers, thinking maybe it'll all be alright. Of course there are still things to consider. Jack and Andrew will be away in a month, and also no matter how much Tom forgives me (and I'm not yet convinced he ought to), the fact still remains that I'm a blemish on his record and that all of our old mutual friends, Adrien and Hope and that lot, will still think badly of me, and think Tom foolish for reconnecting at all.

But these aren't things I need to dwell on yet.

The thing is, I feel confident in my abilities to focus on the rest of the world, not just Jack. I can be happy just hearing the beat of my footsteps taking me home and the wag of Carlisle's tail. It's not the same as the comfort I feel when I touch Jack's back and see the muscles ripple, but no matter. And I keep reminding myself, he'll still be here. People like him exist in the world. My proximity to them shouldn't matter so much, should it?

And after he leaves, I'll still sort of have Tom, in a sense. Anyway, he's picking up his phone now, which is nice. Not that I intend to burden him. I wouldn't dream of it, after all I've already done. Likewise, I don't intend to burden either of the twins. I plan to limit communication, at least initially, until I know how much of a killjoy I'll be. It's not my place to force any guilt on them. It's not like they're personally responsible for my happiness. The way I see it, they sort of granted me a few months of borrowed time, a nice holiday that I didn't deserve in the first place. But I suspect they see it differently.

Andrew wrote me a letter. I read it once and placed it in the shrine. I have a bookshelf that's four shelves high, and only one shelf is actual books. The rest is a place I go to meditate, all the knickknacks I've collected from traveling, the bones and barnacles and Buddhas that remind me of the world outside my own life. I won't quote it here, either. I could read it over and over until it lost all meaning and I started questioning the validity of the statements, but this is something I must preserve and only touch when needed. Because no one has ever bothered to tell me they love me nor that I matter and words tend to decay with overuse, and if this is my only evidence that I am loved, then it would be really very stupid of me to erode it before its time.

I wish I had more evidence, though.

Today I came home and found some blood on the inside of my jeans, and I thought, here it is. Jack's testimony that I'm alive, have a heartbeat, have blood beats its tired path through my body to keep me going, and that when he's gone, I won't see this anymore.

Of course, there's menstruation to consider, but that's not a testimony to my life, but to the potential life of another and its passing.

And there's nothing to be preserved there. Blood and heartbeats are evidence, but they are neither stationary nor objectifiable. They're there and then they're not, which is how all the most important things in the world are. The moment they become true entities, they are dead, symbols of something larger that no longer exists, except in memory.

The thing about memory is, it's unreliable at best and I worry that once the twins are gone, I'll only have that. My old cynicism is rearing its head more often now. Earlier today I was looking at the shrine and I started to think, you can't just tuck lives and relationships on the shelf. And I do try. The vast majority of it is bones: evidence of lives lived and time passing and things happening in the world. And now they're passed and preserved only as meaningless things, calcified objects that no longer hold meaning except what I ascribe to them. I've never thought of the things on the shelves as meaningless, but they are, except for the meaning I give them myself.

Lately I've felt... I don't know, maybe more aware of the world and its vastness scares me. I feel small. When I put my arms around Jack I feel whole, I feel grounded in the world; without him, I feel lost and the endless possibilities become frightening. I don't think the rest of the world thinks about it, and that scares me too. I feel too aware and too responsible. It's hard for me to put these feelings into words; I try to here and I find myself deleting half of what I type, and rearranging and manipulating the sentences as if, if I can only get their meaning to align itself to my own senses, it'll somehow come together in a way that I can study it and draw a "=" sign and fix it in a nice, neat equation that'll dictate my life and put everything in its rightful place.

Sometimes, I feel like I don't have a rightful place at all. I'm a drifter, touching briefly on lives like a butterfly on a leaf, floating off without consequence and leaving barely a swaying branch to testify to my existence.

Went Around, Coming Around, Dharmic-Style

2010-03-25T10:22:00.003-05:00

Last night I worked myself into a sense of panic (again).

I tried a few half-hearted conversations with Andrew and Kisa and gave up because I wasn't feeling any better. Then I thought, Tom's always on the square with me, I'll call him!

So I did. It was about 1 am and I wasn't in the mood for bed, since lately my dreams have been all Cromm and Slender Man and that dark cold place.

He picked up. We talked for two hours. We discerned:

1) I've definitely split since our relationship, if you can call it that. Things got really confusing and finally we started using terms like "full Julie" and "American Julie" and "the body," which is unnerving as shit.

2) I'm probably not an alter, which is a relief. But I'm also probably not 100% the "core." We think the other part of the core (the one we're calling "American Julie") is pretty much just this hysterical version of me that's been sectioned off to avoid further drama.

3) Despite the fact that a lot of my life has been called into question recently by Jack, Andrew, and Tom (ironically, probably the three most important people in my life), Tom and I agreed that, even if I am some bizarre mesh of core and alter, it doesn't matter. I mean to say, I'm here, and functional; I carry on with life and have friends and hobbies and opinions and feelings; and really, I oughtn't be trying to do anything else. Whatever or whoever I am, it oughtn't change my relationship with anyone.

Actually, the funny thing is, this is the first decent convo Tom and I have had in ages. I can't really blame him. I went fairly mad. The craziest thing is that, after all I've done, Tom says to me, "I've never let a friend down before."

Who let who down, anyway, Tom?

What concerns me is that I feel as though I woke up from a dream. While I was busy with my self-destruction the last few years, I felt completely sane. Everything I did made great sense. Now I look back on it and think, what the hell? Why did I do that? I lost my God damn mind. I'm worried I could potentially do that again and not notice. I asked Tom to notify me if it happens and then distance himself; that way I won't hurt him, and with notice, maybe I'll be able to prevent myself from hurting anyone else, either.

But the thing to take away from this is, Tom and I spoke for two hours, quite normally, and I'm so glad to say that he was willing to do so, because I miss him so much and I feel like, at least now, so long as I'm in my right mind, or at least "a" right mind, we can sort of be friends again.

So Tom was thinking he could come down and we could have dinner or something this weekend. I have all weekend off, so why not? I'm looking forward to seeing him, and he's looking forward to meeting the twins. Both parties have heard quite enough of the other.

Normal people have mortgage payments. Me, I have to worry about whether or not I'm real. Yikes.

Well, I've already decided I am and I don't care to think otherwise. I'm overall content with life right now and I'd prefer not to let a little thing like reality rear its ugly head. ;)

Blitz Entry

2010-03-24T10:35:00.002-05:00

Alright, five minutes to work.

Some blog-related news:

Andrew started reading (hi, Andrew) (Jack's twin; I might as well dispose of the fake name I've been protecting his identity with, as he's here now) and I feel like I need to clarify a few things, as much as I can, anyway, which isn't as much as you'd think.

I've mentioned this before but I feel like there's some major lack of continuity in here. The problem is, my writing style is very stream-of-consciousness, meaning I tend to skip over major events when they happen and revisit them later, much later, so that things like "Jack won the lottery and came to visit" or "I just miscarried!" appear without any proper introduction whatsoever. I wonder what it's like to start from the beginning and read through. Disjointed, I'm sure. Isn't that how I am, but? It's a good representation of me, which is what a blog ought to be.

The thing is, I worry that it's not me. The reason I never read more than a page or so back is because I realise that myself and another of me update in tandem, and for me at least, it would be fairly disconcerting to read an entry I never remembered writing.

Lately some strange stuff has been going on and I'm starting to wonder if I'm an alter myself. I went digging for my birth certificate to confirm I exist, only to find it's gone missing. Things do that often around here. Still, I won't have peace of mind until I've figured this all out. Jack (Jack G, that is) has made me very paranoid.

But I must exist. After all, if I didn't, I wouldn't be here.

Nice Guys Finish Last

2010-03-22T19:01:00.002-05:00

News, in short:

My parents came to town Wednesday and surprised me at work.

I got into a car wreck Friday and money woes are again rearing their ugly heads.

I'm going to start looking for a second job. There's simply no other way to make ends meet.

Saturday I spent with Jack after a bout of switching out all day. Best oral sex I've ever had. I mean, hands down. He insisted I play Domme for an hour. I was glad when the hour was up; I'm not cut out for that sort of thing. We spent most of it having a conversation.

The trees are budding. I know weather doesn't stop the progression of time, but I still worry as it warms. Each day takes me closer to another loss.

I realised that my birthday falls after graduation. Jack was telling me he and Andrew are trying to come up for something special for me, but there's nothing I'll want, now or then. I want to be wanted and loved as I want and love. No one can give that to me. There's nothing besides in the world that matters much.

Not Quite Yet Time to Panic

2010-03-16T22:21:00.002-05:00

Omegle Tuesday is being shoved back a day so that I can vent some panic.

Actually the panic has passed, mostly. It surfaces now and then.

It first came Sunday.

The boys were gone away and I, in an attempt to stave off panic, spent the week with friends, drinking with Kelly and chasing chickens with Colleen.

But when Sunday came, I hitched up my dress and tore off to the boys' house, eager to confirm their existence in the world. Jack looked better than I remembered.

Anyway, we were having a conversation about how, back in the day, a marriage could be instated by sex. And Jack was making fun of the concept, and then Andrew, playing devil's advocate, pointed out that this does actually make sense, but perhaps Jack just couldn't understand because he'd never had sex with anyone he was really in love with... no offense.

"None taken," I said breathlessly. He might as well have slapped me across the face and I was too startled to say another thing about it.

But the thought echoed through and through my head, followed me all the way to work, and took root.

I'm unloved.

I'm unlovable.

The moment I had this thought, the possibility became a reality and could not be undone. A panic attack began welling inside me and I made a dash for the bathroom. I made it in time to switch out; I woke much later that evening.

But the thought still lingers.

It's not actually a revelation. I'm in love and Jack is not. This is the story of my life.

Panic reared its head again at Andrew's cheery proclamation: "I'm graduating in a few weeks!"

In a few weeks you'll go across the country. You'll leave me. You'll go not because I did anything wrong, but because you want to and I'm nothing but a footnote in your life. You don't want me. I'm replaceable. And it's up to me to gracefully bow and let you pass, so that you can go and fall in love with someone else. The irony is, if I do it right, you'll never know. I made a promise to myself that Jack would never see me cry (at least for him), and therefore would never have to feel guilty and would be able to live the life he deserves, with the woman he wants. Whoever you are, lady, where ever you are now... God, I hate you and I love you, only because he'll love you and you'll love him back.

I saw the first flowers of spring.

The nightmares aren't back, yet, at least not in full swing, but my appetite is waning already. Ben says I've begun talking in my sleep again, about drowning and Cromm Crúaich and cold.

I'm scared I'll go back to how I was before. I don't want to be like that anymore. I'm happy with... well, being happy. I like this newfound clarity. I don't want it to leave with Jack. I don't want Jack to leave, either, though I do, of course, for his own good.

But I feel overall optimism and won't let this panic win over.

Last night I had a dream where I was standing in a wood and it was snowing, and a great wolf came and the wolf wasn't a wolf but a shadow, pure darkness, the darkest dark you can imagine. It circled me, growling, and I watched it knowing that it would eat me but that I would fight it anyway and it would win. Then, from the woods, a voice called its name and suddenly it looked like a regular black wolf; its head turned, ears perked, and it began to lope off like a dog. And suddenly the prospect of being alone in the forest was more terrifying than being eaten, and my throat tightened and I cried, "Stop!" And the wolf turned, briefly, to look at me. It didn't speak, but I knew what it was saying: "I have to." Then it disappeared and I was alone.

I know what this dream means precisely. The first wolf was my own fears. The second wolf was Jack. Why else would it have been Andrew's voice calling Jack's name?

Go ahead, Wolf. The first wolf, that is. Wolf of shadow.

Try to swallow me.

I won't win, but I will fight.

Die (43): Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But Death Will Mend Them

2010-03-13T10:24:00.004-06:00

I always knew I would go into biology, even before I knew it.

From the time I was small I had a fascination with things biological. Things normal children are interested in, until their interest wanes due to parental scolding. Things like bugs and dirt and compost and dead squirrels.

I would go out for long adventures and return clutching a leaf, a severed rabbit foot, a beetle, a butterfly wing, a moss-covered stone.

My mother tried to discourage me from touching these things: "dirty" things, hazardous things, dangerous things. A wounded dove, a raccoon kit, carrying who-knows-what diseases and distempers. But was never scratched, never sickened, never any the worse off.

The swingset in our backyard became a graveyard and we never played on it. Sometimes I would perch there, enjoying the sunshine, but its main purpose was as a large, elaborate wooden gravemark.

Squirrels, hawks, ravens, mice, rats, and occasionally a cat or opposum would be deposited under it and rot. I always took a stick in case I had a compulsion to poke at it, but I never did. Limp, furry bodies would swell and then deflate, and the bugs, like fairies, would take either end: the eyes and the anus. The eyes would go first and with them the rest of the face. The innards would decompose before the fur, but eventually that would do. In winter, the snow would cover the remains, and when the spring thaw came, it would reveal the bones. The summer sun bleached them white and the animal would be restored to a beautiful, purified white form, its most simple and lovely physicality.

The swell and deflating seemed to me to be the last breath of the already-dead animal. Decomposition always fascinated me.

The animals I brought were never pets. They came from forests, fields, and street gutters. I was selective; whole corpses, not pieces, not roadkill, not partials.

My mother was torn between being worried for me and pleased at my scientific interest. But as sensible woman as she is, she was eccentric enough to marry my father, and her scolding was half-hearted and resulted in no lasting qualms about hauling home corpses to watch them rot.

All creatures fear death because we're programmed to. Death is not in our best interest, particularly before we've reproduced.

But putting aside my natural instincts, I've always found the process of death and decay fascinating, and to an extent peaceful, from the very first exposure of that white skull peeking through the eyes and maggots.

I always aimed to mount the bones, but often left them be; no amount of wiring and positioning could ever compare to the natural beauty of the skeleton left to lie sprawled half-buried in the muddy, mossy, rich soil.

This is the most complete and perfect form of purification. I imagine the bleaching of the skeleton to be analogous to the bleaching of the soul.

Today we cleaned the carpet. As the whiteness came out from the grime, I thought of my rotting squirrel and felt a sort of deep, ingrained longing. The world has a way of making decay beautiful and righting itself even after the consciousness of the thing is lost. Death is just another type of life; that last death-breath is surely the first breath of a new life beginning. Death and birth are oxymoronic and yet congruous.

Lately I find myself longing for friends. I have none.

I run my fingers over my knuckles, comforting myself with my own framework, and consider myself and my place in the world and how many other souls before me have considered themselves in the same way, and how many more must never think of this, and if they're lonelier or better off for it.

I wonder if my interest in friends is for my own posterity. Someone to tell my stories to and in that way preserve them.

I wonder if my interest has to do with my envy for the twins and their wholeness. I am not whole. Even if I were, I would still only be a half, an amputee, without my other half. I wish I had a twin or a soulmate. I probably do, somewhere. But my fundamental other half must be like a skeleton, hidden and perfect and only visible when it is no longer a functional or necessary thing. I may never see it. We never see our own skeletons. I wonder if this is where my soul is, and if it will only be revealed after my death, bleached into whiteness by a summer sun and waving, overgrown grass and the peaceful stillness of no longer being.

Omegle Tuesday

2010-03-09T22:38:00.003-06:00

Sorry about the lack of updates this week. I promise to be better about it. In the meantime, here's some Omegling. Not too great this week, since I wasn't on much.

My Top Five Conversations This Week

(tl;dr)

Number Five: Drama

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: I loved you.
You: i don't know what to say to that
You: i'm pretty unloveable
You: that's why i wear this mask, and play this organ
Stranger: LIES.
Stranger: I know your secret.
You: DAMN it, charlene, i kept it from you as long as i could
You: to PROTECT you. you
You: you and the baby
Stranger: THIS ISN'T Charlene
Stranger: That's your other WHORE.
You: and i KNOW it's not mine, but damn it, charlene, i TRIED
Stranger: I thought you loved me.
You: how could i ever love you when i couldn't even trust you, with your evil identical long-lost twin running around?
Stranger: I know she seduced you, and I forgave you. But a goat? Really, Wilbur?! A goat.
Stranger: How can you explain that?!
You: it was the drugs, charlene. i had a problem. but i SWEAR to you, i'm getting help
You: and that whore of a goat is no longer in my life
Stranger: I saw the texts from her on your phone. And how can I trust you? You've been huffing paint for years. You say you're goin to get help. But I see the paint on your face.
Stranger: I SEE IT WILBUR.
Stranger: I'm pregnant. How can I raise a child wih you like this?!?
Stranger: You ate the last four.
Stranger: You were too high to know.
Stranger: I tried to keep it a secret as long as I could.
You: oh god
You: the tomatoes WERE talking
You: i thought it was the paint
You: oh god, why???
Stranger: It was the deal you made with the devil. He warned you. Being a professionl ping pong player wasn't that important. I tried to tell you.
You: don't you EVER say that again
You: it WAS important
You: it's still important
You: it's the most important thing in my life and i don't need your slutty little mouth ruining that dream for me
Stranger: I thought our life together was your dream Wilbur? What happened to us? What happened to the days at the strip club, when we were happy.
You: that was before the accident, charlene
You: before you got trapped beneath that donut lard truck and had to eat your way out
You: i can't even tell where the ankle starts and the calf ends anymore, charlene.
You: it's just... not going to work anymore.
Stranger: I knew yo only loved me for my body.
Stranger: *you
You: and your hot, evil twin
You: don't forget her
Stranger: That ws me Wilbur, after my plastic surgery.
Stranger: I was afraid to tell you.
You: but... but how could you have afforded it?
Stranger: That's what I'm afraid to tell you.
Stranger: I sold the baby.
Stranger: And started dealing coke
Stranger: ......a cola.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number Four: Interview with an Assassin

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hey
Stranger: Hello
You: how are you
Stranger: I'm quite content this evening.
You: any particular reason why?
Stranger: A peaceful feeling. I've just completed my latest contract.
Stranger: Nothing more satisfying than a job completed flawlessly.
You: contract regarding what?
Stranger: The death of a man named David Martinez.
You: oh. how droll. you're an assasin.
Stranger: That's one name for it.
Stranger: It's a good living.
You: yes, of course.
Stranger: The money is worth it.
You: that's what "Good living" would imply.
Stranger: I've been called a monster. It's nice to speak with someone who isn't as visibly horrified.
You: i'm incredulous, but playing along because you interest me
Stranger: That works too.
Stranger: Anything you'd like to know?
You: not really
You: i'm sure you have a fantastic backstory
Stranger: Not really.
Stranger: Just something I got into. Everyone wants to kill someone.
You: i disagree
Stranger: Maybe not in person, but paying someone to do it is the same.
You: i have never wanted to kill someone, either personally or by proxy
Stranger: Then you haven't experienced this world enough.
You: again, i disagree
You: i argue that for my age, i have far more experience than would be deemed fair by most
Stranger: Tell me your story then.
You: i've grown weary of telling strangers the same story over and over
Stranger: I don't doubt it.
Stranger: But you have me curious, I must say.
You: besides, there are too many plot holes for it to be a well put together story
Stranger: Sounds like 80% of films these days.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number Three: When Channers Collide

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: YO DAWG
You: YO DAWG
You: I HEARD YOU LIKE OMEGLE
Stranger: SO WE WRAPPED YOUR OMEGLE IN A PIZZA, PUT A FLOWER TORTILLA AROUND IT, DEEP FRIED IT, SPRINKLED BACON BITS AND NACHO CHEESE ON IT, AND DEEP FRIED THAT!
You: DELICIOUS
Stranger: YO DUDE I HAS A BONER
Stranger: WAT DO I DO TO IT?
Stranger: IVE BEEN BEATING IT WITH MY LIL BROS FIRE TRUCK
You: CUT IT OFF BEFORE IT SPREADS TO THE OTHERS
Stranger: SHIT IS JUST HURTING NOW DOOD
Stranger: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD FUCKIN IDEA BRO
Stranger: IM GLAD U HERE DAWG
Stranger: ANGELS WATCHING U U HAS PURPOSE
You: AIGHT MAN COOL COOL YOU WATCH YOUR BACK NOW VELOCIRAPTORS GET VICIOUS THIS TIME OF NIGHT
Stranger: SWEET THANKS BRO
You: PEACE
You have disconnected.

Number Two: Disaster Averted

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: be gay
You: WOOOOO I LUV TEH COCK
Stranger: too much
You: damn.
You: so, question: is metroid's gun part of his arm, or his armor?
Stranger: i'd say
Stranger: her armor
Stranger: she actually has no arm that's why
You: WAIT HE'S A CHICK
You: that's hot
Stranger: of course...everybody knows that
You: i'm so glad, i thought i was just gay
Stranger: you still are
You: thanks, stranger! i won't be swallowing these cyanide pills after all! :)
You have disconnected.

Number One: When They Don't Know They're Being Trolled

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hey
Stranger: hey
Stranger: asl?
You: 21 f usa
Stranger: OMFG! THE US EXISTS!
Stranger: OMG OMG OMG
Stranger: I can't believe it!
Stranger: Are you for real?
You: no
You: sorry
You: only fucking with you. i'm serbian
Stranger: What in the world is that?
You: it means i was born with an extra finger on each hand
Stranger: oh like polydactyl
You: sort of, but i'm not a dinosaur
Stranger: thats pteradactyl
Stranger: polydactyl is a genetic disorder
Stranger: multiple fingers and toes
Stranger: lol
Stranger: Im from the USA too
Stranger: XD

2010-03-09T01:34:00.001-06:00

Still up. 2:34. Tired. So tired. Missing Jack. He's only away for the week. Tired. Carlisle is doing great. So much to do. Must get degree. Must

Omegle Tuesday

2010-03-02T20:24:00.002-06:00

Omegle

My top five conversations this week:

Number Five

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hey
Stranger: ATE U HORNY
Stranger: PLEASE GIVE CORRECT ANS
You: erm
You: i'm not sure what you're asking, mate
Stranger: your a guy
You: wrong, sweetheart
Stranger: u sound like the opposite sex
Stranger: im gay
You: thanks, i get that a lot
Stranger: i love you
Stranger: marry me
You: fantastic. i'm straight. i'm glad we cleared that up
Stranger: so thats a yes to the whole marriag ethong
You: hey, sure, why not
Stranger: yeahhhhh
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number Four

You: hey
Stranger: would you rather have someone cum in your mouth or in your anus?
You: mouth
Stranger: why?
You: i like sucking dick, i guess
You: my ass on the other hand is exit only
Stranger: ah ok, jw
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number Three

You: hey
Stranger: hi
Stranger: asl?
You: 21 f usa
You: you?
Stranger: 31 m japan
You: you're older than most
Stranger: meet with you i think
Stranger: fuck with you ,ok?
Stranger: harder ,harder
Stranger: you there?
You: fail.
Stranger: what are u doing?
Stranger: fuck with your BF?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number Two

You: hey
Stranger: what do you want?
me: gee... i don't really know. do you mean right now, or in the future?
Stranger: what do you want?
You: love
Stranger: what do you have?
You: a yeast infection
Stranger: stop running from your problems
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Number One

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: yo dawg
You: hey
You: i heard you like omegle
Stranger: ?
You: so i put a conversation in your conversation so you can chat while you chat
Stranger: wtf is omegle
Stranger: i thought this was ebay...
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

10 Tics You Probably Already Noticed About Me

2010-03-01T23:02:00.009-06:00

Crap! I forgot to update Sunday due to massive amounts of panic!

By the way: this is weird, but thanks to which ever personality updated for me. (It's sort of like thanking myself, actually, but whatever.)

Here's the list I promised last night.

~~Five~~ Ten Tics You Probably Already Noticed About Me
(But Wrote Off As Normal)

So it's no big secret that I have neurotic behavior out the ass. It manifests itself as severe paranoia, bouts of depression, crippling anxiety, and an intense fear of abandonment. But did you know I also have a million other tiny little tics, OCD-like compulsions that I can't help but follow? Here's the top ten that are most frequent and interfere most with my life. Enjoy!

1) The "Divisible By Five" Rule

The Rule: Things have to be evenly divisible by five. (0, 5, 10, 15, etc.)

Example: Volume on the radio or television; lists; anything that is quantitative.

Corollary: Twelve is generally okay. It's not great, but it's tolerable.

Most Awkward: When I start fiddling with a stranger's car radio and babbling about the number five.

2) The "Secret Locket" Rule

The Rule: The contents of any locket I wear cannot be known by anyone other than me. The close to gold, the more secret its contents will remain. (I have three lockets which I wear pretty regularly.)

Example: The gold locket I wear regularly cannot be touched, ever, because someone might try to open it. The bronze-coloured locket can be touched but not opened.

Corollary: If the locket is silver or made of cheap metal that does not resemble gold, it can be opened, but the contents cannot be verbally said. (So you can look at it, but I can't just tell you what's in it.)

Most awkward: "Oh, what a lovely locket! [reaching for] What's inside?"

3) The "Luck of the Draw" Rule

The Rule: Coin flips and dice rolls are an acceptable method of deciding what to do but must be obeyed at all costs. (I have two dice and three special coins for this. Non-approved coin flips or dice rolls don't count.)

Example: I don't know where to go for lunch; I'm thinking of moving to another state.

Corollary: If I don't like the outcome, I can re-roll. If I get heads and then tails, I must obey the two out of three outcome, but if I get two of the same answer in a row, I'm even more bound to do what the coin or dice tells me.

Most Awkward: When I'm doing it in the breakroom at work with a D20 to decide what to get out of the vending machine.

4) The "Lucky Match" Rule

The Rule: My socks cannot match but can't be mismatched. They can't be the same sock, but have to have some commonality to them, such as length, colour, texture, design, theme, or something else. It's actually extremely complex and difficult to explain what constitutes a matched mismatched pair.

Example: Two striped socks of the same colour are okay if the stripes are different widths. Two socks that both have dogs on them are okay. Two socks of different colours and length are okay if they are of the same thickness.

Corollary: If I'm dressing up in a costume, such a pirate, my socks may match.

Most awkward: In professional settings when I have no reasonable explanation for why I'm wearing an ankle sock on one foot and a knee-high on the other.

5) The "Soft Touch" Rule

The Rule: If something looks soft, I am compelled to touch it to ensure it is indeed soft. If I know something to be soft, I must touch it each new time I see it. (This rule arises from the blue sweater I sleep with, known only as "Soft," which is my most prized possession and would probably destroy me if it was ever lost or ruined. Nutty, I know. The only time I don't need it is when I'm sleeping with someone I love.)

Example: Passing a rack of clothes, I have to stick a hand out, grab a sleeve, and run my hand down the length of it.

Corollary: No known corollary. If it looks soft, I really, really want to touch it.

Most awkward: "Nice to meet you too. Hey, your hair's really shiny! ...may I touch it?"

6) The "Post-Consumption Sanitation" Rule

The Rule: After eating, I must sanitize my hands. (The smell of food on my skin, once I'm done eating, makes me physically ill.)

Example: That sandwich was delicious. Now, where's the nearest hand sanitizer or dishwasher soap?

Corollary: Frozen or nearly tasteless/odorless food doesn't require washing after eating, though I do prefer to do so just in case I start imagining a smell.

Most awkward: After going to a pizza place with a group of friends and spending the rest of the night worrying about the state of my hands.

7) The "Palette Perfect" Rule

The Rule: My earrings, accessories, socks, and makeup must match at all costs, either by colour or theme.

Example: Green eyeshadow will yield shamrock earrings, earth-tone socks, and a bronze locket. Silver eyeshadow will yield silver earrings, silver accessories, and gray socks. If I happen to be wearing pink pig earrings, I will go without eyeshadow rather than have mismatched earrings and makeup.

Corollary: Colour generally takes precedence over all else, but for themed or costumed looks, I can overlook it.

Most awkward: When I have five minutes to get ready for work and change my earrings three times and my socks four times to ensure both the Perfect Palette and Lucky Match rule are executed properly.

8) The "Check Check Check" Rule

The Rule: Accidentally leaving on a light or having the radio not divisible by five ruins my day and often my week completely. The Check Check Check rule involves checking, rechecking, and continuing to recheck these sorts of things periodically to make sure they haven't changed in the last two minutes. This also applies to checking things like PostSecret three or four times a week to make sure I remembered to check it that week.

Example: While driving, if I adjust the radio, I will flick the switch between 5 and 4 and back to 5 at least two or three times to make absolutely sure it's on five; when I set my alarm clock, I have to set the alarm off and on and off and on and off and on to make sure it's really, definitely on.

Corollary: None known. If I don't check it, it could potentially be set at twenty-one, and the world would cease to exist as I know it.

Most awkward: When trying to switch lanes in a congested area and having to constantly glance down at the radio; when it's two in the morning and I have to get up more than once to make sure the door is locked.

9) The "Know Thy Enemy" Rule

The Rule: Upon meeting someone, I immediately size them up for a fight.

Example: I shake your hand with a consciously firm grip while staring at your shoulders to try to figure out how strong you are.

Corollary: No corollary. Everyone I know has been sized up and judged based on how well they would fight me, and what sort of ally they would make in a fight.

Most awkward: Whenever I'm genuinely trying to make friends and am aware of what a paranoid, psychotic person I am.

10) The "Forbidden Blemish" Rule

The Rule: All blemishes or potential blemishes must be eradicated as swiftly as possible, at whatever cost.

Example: Every time I go into the bathroom in the morning, at night, or to fix my makeup, I end up spending between ten and thirty minutes on my tip-toes, face inches from the mirror, searching for imaginary zits and mercilessly squeezing chunks of flesh in case there's a zit I can't see lurking there.

Corollary: No known corollary. Even if it's not ready to be popped, even if it's already been popped, even if it's not there, it must be torn from my skin.

Most awkward: When I notice a spot forming in a reflection in a public place and immediately have to find a private place to pick at it; when I'm without makeup and tear my face into a blotchy mess and have to wait for it to get less swelly to show it again.

There you have it! A list that is, in and of itself, a demonstration of my tics. Are there more? Oh God, yes. Want to see one in action? Reach for my locket and wait for the fireworks. ;)

Do they think about their (our?) souls too?

2010-03-01T04:22:00.000-06:00

Yes.

Souls

2010-03-01T00:16:00.002-06:00

Carly said, "You're like a homunculus with so many souls inside you."

Do I have one soul in pieces, or many souls in one body?

It's sad to think of a broken soul. It's equally sad to think of people without souls, and sad to think I could create them.

Tom said, "Just one shattered soul, like the rest of us."

I feel sad when I think about my soul. It's the most important thing I have; the only thing, really. I wonder how to fix it.

Tonight I'll probably switch out. I'm feeling a lot. Does that mean I'll be without a soul for a while? I don't know. Do they? Do they think about their (our?) souls too?

Overload

2010-02-28T17:30:00.002-06:00

Too much to say. No time to blog.

Friday: went out to the Dark Horse with Jack, blew way too much money, and God, he's a good Dom when he's drunk.

Saturday: State Patty's. Dressed up, went to parties, they sucked, ended up hottubbing, topless, with Carly in a suit Macguyered from scrap and Jack in a tail. Awesome.

Sunday morning: Picked up Andrew from the airport this morning. He's been away two weeks. Feeling panicked and I'm not sure why. I have difficulty trusting people and for some reason physical absence makes me distrust them more. After the one and a half week mark, I become convinced they'll change for the worst while away and return for the sole purpose of betraying me. I know this is only my paranoia talking and Andrew probably won't stab me in the back, but I'm still so anxious it's almost unbearable. Very Psalms 22.

Going to take a shower. Might hang out with the boys tonight but I'm seriously so worried I almost don't want to go over because... I don't know. It's hard to explain.

I don't feel like I would feel like this if it was Jack. For reasons unbeknownst to me, Andrew intimidates me a lot more.

I also might just be panicking because I'm naturally suspicious of having too good of a time, and this weekend has really been spot-on.

Retail: It's Sickening

2010-02-25T20:42:00.003-06:00

Got swine flu. Yep.

A fun sixteen hours of vomiting, diarrhea, fever, chills, and achiness followed by another 48 of exhaustion, followed by a two-week recovery period. The worst part? I gave it to Jack, who was lucky enough to have a mild case compared to mine, but still, I feel guilty for ruining his weekend.

Still too tired to type anything of interest, so instead here's one of my clever countdown lists to let everyone know I'm still alive.

This week, you can look forward to the following:

Sunday: 5 Tics You Already Noticed About Me, But Wrote Off As Normal

Tuesday: Week One of Omegle Tuesdays, highlighting my top five conversations on Omegle each week.

Later: Ranting. Incoherent, classically insane ranting.

And without further ado, today's countdown!

Ten Things I Wish I Had Never Learned From Retail

1) "Limit" is just another word for "minimum."

2) Never say "hello" back to an associate who greets you. If you do, the terrorists have won. Avoid eye contact at all costs.

3) The "%" sign over a rack means the price is negotiable. Haggle like mad.

4) Removal of your cell phone from your ear, even for a moment, will cause your head to explode.

5) Getting mad will make your coupon work, even if it didn't previously.

6) The average American adult has no idea how to, and is in fact quite incapable, of operating a hanger.

7) If it falls to the floor, leave it. Why fight gravity?

8) The person wielding the ladder is the person to ask. If you can't find one of these folk around, the second most knowledgeable person in the store is the one with the heaviest-looking load.

9) Associates are personally responsible for the selection carried in the store. If you don't like what you see, yell at them until they fix it.

10) All employees have been specially trained to rip you off for the good of the store. In fact, the store is not unlike a cult, and the employees, once normal people, have been brainwashed to gyp you at the drop of a hat to please the corporate monster. You should be suspicious of all prices, question everything, and above all, be ever vigilant... or the terrorists have won.

Missing You Before You Set Sail

2010-02-20T16:47:00.002-06:00

Nothing will probably ever be as perfect as last night.

Wrapped in Jack's arms is, I'm absolutely convinced, where I'm meant to be.

But I've thought that before, right?

There are others.

Already I have brief moments of panic. He's leaving.

But he's leaving because he wants to. He deserves that. He's not dead. He's going somewhere, without me, and that's much better than going nowhere with me, isn't it?

I always know when I'm getting upset because I start listening to Brandy over and over.

I feel like every time they set me sail, they're casting me overboard into the sea. *buries face in arms* I love you, Jack. I wish I were less attached to you so you could worry about me less. I'm sorry I'm a burden. I'm glad you're my Master. Please don't let me drown.

The Ocean Says Yes / Lacklustre Placeholder Entry

2010-02-17T16:51:00.003-06:00

So Carly and I went to get Jack's Valentine's Day present on Friday. His present? A tattoo of a mermaid directly over my pussy. Easily the most painful tattoo I've ever gotten. We limped off to the BDSM book club and then back to Jack's. I had too much to drink and spent the night even though I swore I wouldn't, and told a bunch of strangers my life story.

On Saturday, when the clock ticked over to midnight, I gave Jack a box. Inside the box was a note instructing him to look in my pants. On the inside of my pants was a note instructing him to look in my panties.

"It's a tattoo," he said in the same sort of voice you might reserve for, "Oh God, not another poisonous snake."

But I think he likes it, especially after realizing it's not a mermaid, but a merman.

Then he got me my gift. Wrapped in a duct-taped box, I found myself in possession of a cow's heart. ("Proof that Tony Stark has a cow's heart," joked Andrew.)

The eart is now currently in my freezer.

Monday was uneventful, except for the part where we broke into the Marriott pool and Jack swam around in a merman costume and I sucked him off. You know, same ol' same ol'.

Actually I'm kind of shocked (still) that this fetish, which even now to me sounds really tacky, is surprisingly hot. I can definitely see how some people get into this, because it's really something else when you're kissing a guy and look down and he's got a tail.

We also had a pretty deep conversation. Jack's really easy to talk to and I'm glad we can cover science, religion, philosophy, and my rampant mental disease without blinking an eye.

So this Saturday we're co-hosting a party, apparently.

In non-kinky news, I've filed my FAFSA and I'm applying for in-state tuition, again. But I'm not too hopeful because it asked for my 2008 tax info. Too bad it didn't ask for my 2009 tax info. When I filed those, they just stamped "POOR" in huge red letters on the front.

Anyway I have to go. Alice is here. More updates later. Probably not though. Things are going too well for me to blog about them.

Right now I'm trying to learn to read a clock to surprise Andrew when he gets back. He's on a 2 week holiday in Cal . I hope I can pull this off. *hope*

Dandelion Seeds

2010-02-10T23:23:00.003-06:00

I haven't really blogged lately because I have so much to say and really I'm sort of overwhelmed right now.

Saturday we went to a party with Jack and Andrew and ended up with what was probably a seven-inch dildo logged somewhere near my spleen. Did you know too much sex can cause yeast infections? Yeah, me neither.

The next day I cuddled with Andrew into the afternoon. I gave Jack and massage; I managed to make a flawless dinner for the both of them, which is no easy task for me.

And now I'm sure that I'm panicking because, while sex parties and huge dildoes are quite nice, it was that Sunday, that nice little picturesque scene of normality, that really bothered me.

Love's a bitch.

After Jack leaves, I don't know where the wind will blow me. For once I feel really confident and optimistic and excited for the future, and all the personalities are quiet, and even my tics aren't so bad. But I can't get too comfortable.

I guess the reason that I was thinking all these deep thoughts instead of just enjoying the moment, as I have been, is that at the party, at one point, I'm naked on the couch, laying across Jack and Andrew's laps, and I started chewing on Andrew's shirt, and Andrew tapped me in the face. And right away, instantly, Jack barked at him (excuse the pun): "Don't you ever hit her!"

Jack's not one to really snap, particularly not at Andrew, and I think I was more taken back then he (Andrew) was. And at that moment, I realized, oh God, I love him.

I'm such a dumb, silly girl sometimes.

Where will the wind blow me next?

Snow Day

2010-02-06T18:05:00.002-06:00

Another fantastic weekend thus far.

Oftentimes I've noticed that, when good stuff happens to me, I blog less because I'm busy doing that instead of being on here.

So here's a lackluster attempt at explaining all we did.

This weekend was a sort of BDSM field trip with the "book club." But it was cancelled because of the incoming storm. It started snowing about five-thirty last night, and by this morning we had nearly half a metre (somewhere near 16 inches).

Although I was disappointed by the cancellation of the trip, I did get to spend time with the boys and a few members of the group, including Carly, who's pretty cool. I trudged to their apartment and we had dinner; afterwards we played cards, which is pretty unspectacular, though I had this strange conversation with a girl named Amber who apparently wants to join the IRA even though 1) she's not really Irish, and 2) they're a terrorist organization.

So then Andrew, Tobi, and I walked Amber to her home through the snow. Back at the house, we lit a bowl, Jack and I ducked out to have sex, and I accidentally exposed myself to everyone walking out, because I'd assumed they had left. We went next door and nicked some chocolate cake from an ultra-Christian party, then slipped back to the house. Then we get a call from Amber who needed to go on a condom run. So Jack and I wander our way to Jack's car, which is several blocks from his home, and mind, it's a blizzard, the roads are empty, and it's sort of this magical wintery apocalypse. I'm high as a kite and three sheets to the wind. We held hands and the snow fell all blustery-like around us, with the orange glow of the street lamps setting it all a-sparkle. We got invited into a kegger by a couple of nice guys named Zack and Corey, I think his name was. A couple beers later, we wandered off to Giant for condoms. Then we came back, picked up a hitchhiker, and got home to watch Zombieland.

We didn't get to bed until four in the morning; the next morning, we were up at eight. We cuddled, had sex, spent a good forty minutes digging out the car and getting it from the (unplowed) lot to the (sort-of plowed) road. Figuring I was already late for work and owed Jack for the car ride, we went to The Corner Room for breakfast. We talked a wee bit about DID, which is embarrassing but also it's refreshing to be able to talk to him so frankly about it, and also helps quell my worries that this'll turn out like Tom, you know?

I got to work at 11:30. I was scheduled at 9:45. Fortunately, the mall didn't open until noon, so everyone scheduled for 9:45 was on a two-hour delay, meaning that, technically speaking, I was sort of early. I sold a whooping $160 today, enough to cover the cost of having me there, the cost of the clothes, and the cost of shipping the clothes to the store.

I'm home now, and here's what's going right for me now:

1) Only a week to Valentine's! I'm too excited to even think straight. I can't wait.

2) Eukanuba National Championship tonight, in only 40 minutes! My predictions? Pointers will be a very strong group this year; non-sporting will have some good-looking dogs too; Standard Poodle ought to do nicely; winner will be sporting group.

Tomorrow I'll do my taxes between the Puppy Bowl (ee!) and the Super Bowl (meh). That'll mean I can do my FAFSA next week and get my ass in gear for PHEAA grants. I'll be back in school by summer. I need to do this. I will do this. My life is only going to get better from here on out.

Some thoughts

2010-02-02T15:25:00.003-06:00

Discussing this with friends, here are some possibilities:

1) He just wants to make it easier to refer to me.

2) He's coming under some pressure from family or friends and feels obligated to trot me out as a girlfriend.

3) He's trying to establish possession of me, which makes sense, as I'm fucking his brother.

Also I'm way overthinking this. Consequences be damned. You know my life, blog. I don't half-ass things. I run headlong into them and do damage control later.

I'd like to do this.

Also, I just found a blockbuster that has The Secretary and I'm totally renting it to show the boys.

Oh shite oh shite oh shite oh shite

2010-02-02T10:56:00.002-06:00

So last night I gave blood. I was all woozy and ready to pass out, and armed with swift instructions not to do any strenuous exercise or heavy lifting.

So naturally when Jack invited me kayaking an hour later, I was all over it. [Ed. Note: Jack G.]

I'm getting slightly more confident in my abilities in water, but I don't think I'll ever have quite the look Jack does. I like seeing him swim a lot. I think the way he looks when he swims is sort of reflective of the way I feel during pup play. (I'm sure I don't look as good, though.)

So here's where it gets to the "oh shite" part.

He's dropping me off and suddenly starts talking about girlfriend/boyfriend crap.

Oh shite.

Now first off, don't get me wrong, the whole "let's be official boyfriend/girlfriend" sounds nice, but here's a few concerns:

1) Jack was so careful earlier to establish that we're not boyfriend/girlfriend. What's changed? How serious is this? Suddenly I'm wary of the whole "relationship." I mean, it's perfect. If we change the terminology, isn't there a possibility we'll change the relationship too and accidentally break it?

2) I worry about how this would change the relationship, actually. I've always tried to avoid kissing him hello and goodbye and holding hands and whatnot, since that's indicative of the boyfriend/girlfriend thing. And I don't want to make him uncomfortable or let him think i'm too invested. Is he suddenly okay with all this? Again, what's changed? Why's it okay now and it wasn't before? Is he getting more involved or something?

3) I don't want to "commit" if he's leaving in spring. Look, blog, I've really thought of this, okay? When Jack leaves, I'll be no worse off than after Tom left me, but I'll have some nice memories to show for it. Suddenly we add this "relationship" aspect and now what? Why would he want to be boyfriend/girlfriend if he knows damn well he's leaving in the spring? I hardly think he'll want me to tag along with him. I mean, the only reason you date someone is to determine if you want to spend the rest of your life with them. That's the progression.

Diagram 1.0

friend ---> girlfriend ---> fiance ---> wife

Why would he possibly want to "advance" this relationship like that? Knowing full well he's leaving and there's not really any possibility of anything more? That's like asking a janitor if you can call them a manager and then going "ha ha, you still have to clean the toilets this weekend." Okay, that's a bad analogy. I'm just sort of worried and I'm not sure I can deal with this.

I mean, do I want to be his girlfriend? Yes. Unequivocally. He's really the best guy I've ever met. Just perfect in every aspect. Which is exactly why I have to be guarded and not get too attached. Because he has limitless potential and he's really going somewhere, and I can't presume I'll be part of it, and I just want to see everything bloom for him, and I think that means a wee bit of sacrifice on my part.

But I also don't want to get too involved because I just don't want to get hurt. I want to be able to let go and be completely selfless and God forbid I stand in the way of Jack's success or happiness. I refuse to let him be responsible for me. I know that sounds fucking stupid coming from a collared sub, but let's face it, Jack's got his whole life ahead of him and I won't be a roadblock for him. When he's ready to go, I don't want to have to think of us as "breaking up" and I don't want to be in any way obtrusive and I just want him to go and succeed and be happy and... fuck. I don't want him to feel guilty or anything. I want this to be as easy and simple as possible for him.

Why did he even need to ask me that, though? If he casually calls me "girlfriend" I won't care. Why's he talking about it? Shite. What the hell is running through that boy's head?

I'm probably overthinking this. It's just that he actually seemed to want to talk about it, which means he's thinking about it, which means it's probably not as simple as "oh you're my girlfriend," it's something more.

*buries head in hands* I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to be a stray. I don't want to be his girlfriend because it'll end the same way it always does: I'm a great awesome perfect girl, I'm just not "that" girl. Why does he want to make this official if he's going to leave me? Does he just want to be able to say "girlfriend" and simplify things? If it were that simple, why would he need my permission? God, I hate relationships. This is so complicated. I sort of want to kick him in the head for bringing it up.

But I do want to be his girlfriend, sort of. Well, I love him, that I do. But can you blame me for being wary and cynical, with my track record? This is the best (un)relationship I've ever had. I don't want it to turn out like Tom or Ben or any of the rest. I'm so worried about ruining it.

I think this is a "Leap of Faith" situation.

If Jack wants to be "official," it's his call. He wouldn't purposely sabotage his own relationship. I need to trust him on this one. He knows what's going on, he's confident, and he is my Dom, and I know he cares for me and wouldn't do anything to purposely hurt me. I think I need to take a deep breath and just jump right in, and assume that I won't drown. Well, look, as I said, whatever happens, I won't be any worse off than I was before, right? And God, yes, I really do want to be his girlfriend, I just don't want to a placeholder. I don't want to be a silver trophy. I don't want Jack dating me until he finds "the one." But like I said: leap of faith. I can't let my paranoia get in the way of what could be a really smashing few months.

Take a deep breath, Jules.

I trust you, Jack.

God, please don't let this turn out like the rest.

I Mo Chroí Go Deo

2010-01-31T23:14:00.004-06:00

The post before last, I told Tom to fuck himself.

That would anger him.

I said fuck you kindly, but I meant that I miss you. I meant I love you. I meant I want to talk to you. Why don't you ever call? What happened to us, anyway? I hardly even remember, between the booze and the blackouts. I only know I still love you and I wish we were friends. I wish we could sit down over breakfast and talk and I could see your crooked smile again.

I'm sorry. I messed up.

I wish I could fix this the way Jack's fixed me.

Glorious Return of Bad Decisions Dinosaur

2010-01-31T18:04:00.002-06:00

So it's time for another update.

Worked all week.

Bank screwed me out of $250. True story: they charged an overdraft fee (as an accident) that overdrew me, then continued to charge overdraft fees. Complete Catch-22. They refused to refund any of it even though it was entirely their fault I had to pay out the ass. Result? Closing the account tomorrow. Speaking of money, I'm also going by the financial aid office and trying to get some Pell grants and get my ass back to school. Suddenly, I feel quite motivated and I'm looking around myself and thinking, I can do better than this. I'm going to pull myself up by the bootstraps and really get back into the swing of things, and prove to everyone that I deserve the best of the best.

Friday night we went to the "book club." There were a lot more people than I expected and I was glad to be between Anthony and Jack G, although I ended up at the center of a big group telling stories as usual. There were no less than 4 or 5 furries and I sort of wanted to knock some sense into Anthony, and scream, "I'm not a furry, I'm a human pup! There's a BIG difference!" All the same, one of them whose name I forget seems really nice and I'd really like to get to know her, but when it comes to serious stuff like this, I become uncharacteristically shy. And when I get shy, I always fall back on humor and end up being the clown of the group. Just ask Adrien, Hope, Mandy, or Tom. I need to work on this. But overall it was a blast and I made some friends.

We went back to Jack's place and met our current record. (4 times in one night, with one appearance by Anthony.) (I don't know if either reads my blog so I'd rather not get into details about which one is "better." Colleen and I have studied this subject extensively. I've come to conclusions on oral and kissing, but on actual sex the jury is still out. The thing is, I have far more experience with Jack than Anthony. Though I have determined Jack is better than Ben, if only because Ben is so big he inevitably ends up hurting me.)

But the thing is, as much as I brag about all the sex, I'd say the best part was the next morning, when I cuddled between Jack and Anthony. (TWIN SANDWICH.) I feel like I've forsaken a lot of cuddling lately for the sex, and I really wish I could have lay there for much longer. But I had to go to work. I was late, and, get this, I was late for getting an award for being such an awesome employee. Irony much?

Anyway, note to self: Cuddle more. :)

While we were laying there (Anthony big spoon, Jack G little spoon, for those who want to know), Anthony brought up the DID, or maybe it was Jack.

Oh, shit.

This is so embarrassing. You know, there's a lot of stigma attached to DID and while I joke about it frequently and tell a lot of funny stories, at its heart it's really sort of sad and not something I'm proud of. I'm glad that this hasn't yet come up in my relationship with Jack and Anthony. So then Jack starts asking questions like if he would know and if they all had separate names and all that, and suddenly I thought about the time Ben woke up with Alex, and I thought, oh, God. For once it's under control sort of, and I'm not really bothered much by it, and the last thing in the world I want is for this dead-on guy with his perfect sweetness thinking I'm crazy or unstable. (I mean, I am, but that's not the point.) I really don't want to deal with the DID anymore but I also don't want to deal with extensive therapy to fix it, what with the cost of it and also the fact that about 1/3 kill themselves while trying to integrate. Can't I be functional while broken? But then, what Dom would want me like that? Well, Jack does. Surely there's more Jacks in the world. I think the funny thing is that I found Jack as a Dom by accident. This must be the secret: don't look for a Dom. Look for a boyfriend or even just a friend and let the river flow its course. :)

In final news, I think I'm going to do it. I'm going to get a new tattoo.

Well, two new tattoos. I'm well set on getting my family crest on my arm.

But on my bikini line, I'm definitely getting a merman. I'm going to get a little phrase around it too. I have four chosen but I have a few months to pick one of those. My logic here is simple:

1) I want to see the look on Jack's face. Horrified or thrilled, it will be so fucking worth it. I hope to God Jack doesn't read this because it'll ruin one of my prime motivations for getting it. I just love the idea of him pulling off my panties and discovering this fucking tattoo. It would be so bloody funny.

Corollary: I want to see the look on Ben's face. Ben is to me what Anthony is to Jack. I tell him all. Nothing barred. He knows all about Jack and he would immediately recognize the tattoo. But just imagine I never tell him about the tattoo. Then I imagine he'd be all, "When did you get that?" I want to see how long it'd take him to see it. On one hand, we aren't intimate, but on the other, I get naked a lot. It's an interesting conundrum.

2) I actually always wanted something nautical themed, and previously had done a lot of research on seahorses. Why? I don't love water or anything, but I wanted a reminder that the most important things are below the surface and sometimes I need to dive a wee bit more to find them. :) Also seahorses are so fucking cool. I love seahorses.

3) I already have one tattoo I regret. Worst case scenario? I regret this tattoo, but so what? I certainly can't dislike it more than the dragon, and it'll be small and discrete (unlike said dragon). And tattoos can always be reworked.

4) It'll make for a good story.

As far as I'm concerned, the only reason to get a tattoo is for telling a story or signifying something important. And all my tattoos do just that. And so will this one, right?

Caffeine: An ode to my chem major, as well as a tribute to the 3 pots a day I drank up until my blood got all clotty and I had to quit or risk a stroke at age 19. Both funny and serious.

Yin-yang: With crosses for the dots, a nod of the head to both Christianity and Buddhism.

Paw prints: Triple points for pup play, a tribute to my pets, and the story behind their wear. Tattoo ink binds to the pigment in one's skin, which is why getting tattoos on the bottom of your feet, where there isn't much pigment, is just a damn stupid idea.

Dragon: Just downright stupid. I got it without significance, and I can't really remember why, or even getting it, though I do know I was drunk and drew it on a bus. I hate it because it has the least significance, but at least the "Here's what happens when you're drunk and draw it on the bus" story is okay. Plus I think it will serve as an important lesson to my kids someday.

So next I'll get my crest and also this merman, just a wee subtle tip of the hat to the best damn Dom I've ever had. If worst comes to worst, I can always have him turned into a seahorse.

Er, the tattoo. Not my Dom. *coughs*

Epic , Short Update

2010-01-27T18:36:00.003-06:00

Right, so, my computer went down and I missed a lot of important updates.

Here be the short version.

I spent my three-day weekend off from work with Jack G. Jack and Anthony apparently found a "book club" that's a front for kinksters to hang out. I'm pleasantly surprised but also worried. Lately my anxiety has been acting up, because everything's been so smashing with Jack, and I feel like it can only go downhill.

Anyway, here are my exceptionally juvenille concerns about going to the kinksters' club Friday nights: 1) What if the other subs are somehow better than me? and, 2) What if I don't fit in or they don't like me?

I know how silly that sounds but you must understand I know very few others into BDSM and also I feel like my specific fetish is looked down upon by "traditional" BDSMers, and according to Jack and Anthony, there's another pup there, so what if we don't like each other, or she's a WAY better dog and makes me look stupid somehow? *panic*

In other news, I finally banged Anthony. Thoughts on this: 1) He's pretty sound. 2) Can't really compare to Jack as I've had both better and worse sex with him. Anyway, moot point, as Jack's my Dom and Anthony isn't. But for the record I do consider Jack a slightly better kisser. Admittedly, I have a very biased opinion. 3) However, it was quite sexy and it was also very passionate, which I definitely appreciate. He (Anthony) did some growling, which I'm hoping to hear more of in the future, and I ended up with two hickeys, one from each, back and front. Phew. I imagine my old pastor rolling round in his grave. Afterwards, we went to Subway, and that afternoon we went grocery shopping, and that night I began reading "This Side of Paradise." It was all very surreal.

Monday we broke into the indoor pool at the Marriott, which has a broken door, and screwed around a bit. Jack has a sort of water fetish, which I was initially worried was tacky, but actually it's pretty sexy. (I would rather not get into here, as he's self-conscious about it and I don't know who all reads my blog.) The thing is, he's very graceful in the water and it made me feel pretty embarrassed since I haven't been swimming in ages and probably made a fool of myself. But I'm hoping to do it again and overall I'm feeling pretty good about everything altogether. Really, though, he looks damn good at water. Just at home. I wonder if I look something like that during pet play? Anthony said that my overall personality has dog-like qualities. I don't think he realized this was a massive compliment to me. I think if you had to compare us, though, Jack trumps me. He's just elegant; I'm sort of stupid about the whole thing.

Anxiety aside, I have to mention this: remember earlier I said I felt all was going right, people were treating me different, and it was all coming together? No. That was a lie. It was always like that. I just now began to notice because I'm seeing myself more though Jack's eyes than my own and realizing that even as a stray I have potential. I'm pretty, smart, funny, motivated... and a really banging hot guy can see that, so why should I always be thinking down on myself? Lots of Doms would be lucky to have me, and I shouldn't settle. Thank you much, Jack. I owe you one. :)

(PS: Fuck you kindly, Tom. I don't need you. You're always civil when I call, but you never call me. Fortunately I value Jack's opinion more than yours so I haven't been feeling down on myself for it.)

Random

2010-01-21T09:28:00.002-06:00

I typed a great long entry about my life, then I decided to fuck it, and instead typed this:

Did you know snakes can bite people up to an hour after they die? Snakes are assholes.

Spent the morning looking at mermaid tattoo designs before realizing how retarded I am. Can you imagine if I got one for every Dom, and a dozen down the line had to start explaining them? "This one is a dairy cow... this one is a mermaid... this one is a computer... this one is a political cartoon... what's that? You like tacos? Okay, I'll get a taco."

I could have saved a lot of money by just getting a giant tattoo of Bad Decisions Dinosaur and leaving it at that.

But instead I'll be touching up my dragon and getting a family crest on my arm this spring. Some pups never learn. *face palm*

A Family Affair

2010-01-19T22:39:00.003-06:00

BAM. Right off the bat, Julie brings you the best damn title that doesn't involve the word "twincest."

It'll be hard to trump that in this entry, but I'll try.

This entry features Jack G and Jack G only, for those still confused about which Jack I'm talking about.

First of all, AMAZING weekend. Jack got me pot brownies for Christmas. We got together Friday night to make them, but ended up drinking and smoking into the wee hours of the morning with a group of really neat people. I made a friend! Hi Nicole!

Fortunately they (the brownies) were done by Saturday; we ate some and went out to the bars before heading back to home base. I was higher than I've ever been. Actually I can't remember well if I stayed with Jack or went home or what happened, precisely.

Sunday we hung out again. Originally it was to watch "The Last Temptation of Christ," but then we talked about religion and philosophy and time travel and a bunch of other shit for hours, and sometime quite early on Sunday morning, Jack and I discovered men can have multiple orgasms. Oh, and get this, blog. So I'm on my period, which has thankfully been very light and not terrible, for once. So on Friday Jack is saying he'd really like to fuck me, and I pointed out that technically he could, if he didn't mind getting a bloody tool. And Jack goes, "Wait..." Apparently he thought you physically couldn't have sex while menstruating. Well, I set him straight. Heh heh.

Then I started thinking to myself: you know, I really need to knock boots with Anthony. Here's the thing: it's on my list to make it with twins. To truly do this, I need to have sex with both. Mind, Jack is my Dom and I respect him greatly, and maybe because he's my Dom, I do find myself more attracted to him. (Which makes no sense, as they're identical.) (Also, it has to do with their faces. Anthony's face is much more expressive. Jack always has this look of slightly confused but delighted shock, as if he just entered a room and someone handed him a cookie for no reason. What can I say? I love innocent little guys like that.) But I'm also morbidly curious as to how they compare. So I sent Anthony a text today, thinking perhaps we could hook up. (Jack already said it was cool.) Luckily Anthony is moderately more mature and responsible than me, and insisted we talk about it, with Jack. So we did. And by "talk" I mean we had dinner, during which Anthony asked and Jack agreed, though under a set of conditions, yadda yadda, then we watched the Boondocks and had ourselves a threesome. (No sex. Good. After Monday, I'm not keen on sticking much in there for a few days. Even I need a break.) So I didn't climax (probably had to do with being distracted by the two of them), but all was set right with a bit of pup play.

So brief bit on that: I haven't had a good long session in forever. Since with Tom, actually. It was only for a few minutes, not long enough for me to get completely involved, which is fine, since I had to drive home. But God, it's been forever since I got to chew on a man's shirt. It's kind of my weakness, like how Carlisle likes my socks. Something about the texture of a thin cotton shirt... it's unexplainable to anyone not into it. The texture and the smell and the way it stretches when you tug it. I love it. It's hard to explain what it's like, unless you're... well, a freak like me.

Jack said he'll call sometime this week and to bring my toys. I'm thrilled; a couple of hours of pup play would put me on cloud nine. I love my Master. This really is a pretty good arrangement as far as I'm concerned. Somehow he's made it all come together. I feel like the whole world is working together on this one. Just yesterday I had two customers in a row tell me I was a good girl. It's like somehow everyone suddenly understood and saw me as I am and accepted it completely. It's like a weird fantasy world. Can someone please tell me how a bunch of Jew sex has made everything do a total 180 on me?

The only thing I really need to get Jack to start doing is petting me when we watch movies and shit. This is a gesture I take for granted from all men, even ones that aren't Doms. Or women too, for that matter. I just expect it.

Other thoughts: I think it's pretty interesting how comfortable the twins are with each other. I think something like seeing the two of them make out would creep me right the fuck out. But I do think it's cute how, when the three of us are in the heat of things, sometimes they'll end up touching hands. Those subtle wee gestures are adorable. (And sexy.) Or for that matter, even when we're only hanging out, how Anthony will set a hand on Jack's shoulder or Jack will hook his toes in the hem of Anthony's pants. I envy their closeness and get pretty sexed up every time I see one of those gestures. Hence the title of this post. Family affair: geddit?

Saturday Kelly invited me to a party and extended invitations to Jack, Anthony, and Ben. I'm thinking I can get at least one of them to agree to come along. I'm bringing the scotch. :)

I'm such a lucky mutt.

PS: I took my braid out Friday or Saturday. Anthony was the first one to notice today. :)

Top 15 Dog Breeds , as Described by a Human Pup

2010-01-13T12:02:00.008-06:00

Alright, I know I promised a paint picture of the Analyze My Dreams contest winner, but I'm still working on it. You can't rush Genius.

It's been inventory week at Macy's so I've been at work every day, bright and early at four in the morning, leaving me a crippled wreck of a person without much enthusiasm for paint. Today, however, was the last day of inventory, which means it's time to celebrate with another countdown!

Top Fifteen Dog Breeds
(That Take After My Own Heart)

I've often been asked before if, as a pup play fetishist, I consider myself a certain "breed." And the answer is yes. While most people into pet play don't have "fursonas" a la furries, most of us do have some vague idea of what we take after.

There's a lot of confusion about pup play verses furries. Pup play, unlike the furry fetish, has little to do with the physical aspects and much more with the psychological aspect. Are tails fun? Sure. But my fetish specifically deals with the mentality of being a dog, being commanded, being loyal, being petted, etc etc. I don't need fur to be told to sit, and I don't need whiskers to sit pretty for a nice treat. Physically we remain human, unlike furries, who dress up. But we like to bark and run about on all fours and be stroked and so forth. And I would argue that it's easier to be "in character" if you know what your character is, hence the "breed" idea.

True story: I once jokingly called a poodle a mutt, much in the way two "homies" might call each other niggers. And she flipped her shit. So while we're very aware that, as pups, we're actually humans who get really into roleplaying dogs, we also take our personal breed standards very seriously.

Now, personally, I'm no specific breed: I'm a mutt, a plain ol' terrier mix, displaying characteristics the AKC dubs as "tenacious," "plucky," "gay," and "velcro." (Not making this up.) Unfortunately, being human is a major disqualification for most breeds, so I'll probably never win any championships. (I've always wanted to be in a show. Too bad they don't have some sort of pup show for people like me. *sigh*)

In any case, here follows 15 breeds with personality traits like mine. Sorry to be boring and informative, but let's face it: you're sort of morbidly curious now, aren't you?

15) The Kuvasz

Group: Working

According to the AKC: A spirited dog of keen intelligence, determination, courage and curiosity. Very sensitive to praise and blame. Primarily a one-family dog. Devoted, gentle and patient without being overly demonstrative. Always ready to protect loved ones even to the point of self-sacrifice. Extremely strong instinct to protect children. Polite to accepted strangers, but rather suspicious and very discriminating in making new friends. Unexcelled guard, possessing ability to act on his own initiative at just the right moment without instruction. Bold, courageous and fearless. Untiring ability to work and cover rough terrain for long periods of time. Has good scent and has been used to hunt game.

Why this dog works: "Very sensitive to praise and blame" describes just about every human pup in existence.

14) The Wirehaired Pointing Griffon

Group: Sporting

According to the AKC: The Griffon’s easy trainability, devotion to family, and friendly temperament endear him to all. He thrives on human companionship and prefers to be house dog. The Griffon has a quick and intelligent mind and is easily trained. He is outgoing, shows a tremendous willingness to please and is trustworthy. He makes an excellent family dog as well as a meticulous hunting companion.

Why this dog works: Thriving on companionship and easily trained sounds like a good M.O. to me.

13) The Weimaraner

Group: Sporting

According to the AKC: Lauded for his ability to work with great speed, fearlessness and endurance when on the hunt, the Weimaraner is also known for being an easily trainable, friendly and obedient member of the family. This is a breed that loves children and enjoys being part of his family’s "pack." The temperament should be friendly, fearless, alert and obedient.

Why this dog works: Weimaraners are notorious loyal.

12) The German Wirehair Pointer

Group: Sporting

According to the AKC: German Pointers are friendly, intelligent, and willing to please. The first impression is that of a keen enthusiasm for work without indication of nervous or flightly character. Loyal and affectionate, the German Wirehaired Pointer craves human companionship and bonds closely with its "people." Of sound, reliable temperament, the German Wirehaired Pointer is at times aloof but not unfriendly toward strangers; a loyal and affectionate companion who is eager to please and enthusiastic to learn.

Why this dog works: GWP's are one of the "clingier" sporting dogs.

11) The Miniature Schnauzer

Group: Terrier

According to the AKC: The typical Miniature Schnauzer is alert and spirited, yet obedient to command. He is friendly, intelligent and willing to please.

Why this works: Do I even need to explain this little guy? I love Schnauzers. Never met one I didn't like.

10) The English Springer Spaniel

Group: Sporting

According to the AKC: The English Springer Spaniel has been endowed with style, enthusiasm, and an "eager to please" quality common to most spaniels. Cheerful and affectionate, Springers love their families and like to stick close to their owners. The typical Springer is friendly, eager to please, quick to learn and willing to obey. Such traits are conducive to tractability, which is essential for appropriate handler control in the field. In the show ring, he should exhibit poise and attentiveness and permit himself to be examined by the judge without resentment or cringing.

Why this dog works: I know a couple who breeds spaniels, and they're a friendly, happy dog always willing to make friends and then bend over backwards for those friends.

9) The Affenpinscher

Group: Toy

According to the AKC: General demeanor is game, alert, and inquisitive with great loyalty and affection toward its master and friends. The breed is generally quiet, but can become vehemently excited when threatened or attacked, and is fearless toward any aggressor.

Why this dog works: I'm not sure how this dog made it so far up the list. I suspect it has something to do with his plucky Napoleon complex. I've been known to go ballistic myself when threatened, as the bite-mark-shaped scar on Tom's forearm will testify. Also, as a side note, I'm not sure why this dog is in the toy group and not the terrier group, since he's been used to hunt game and since his name literally translates to "monkey-terrier." I hate it when the AKC automatically sequesters small dogs into the toy group.

8) The Swedish Vallhund

Group: Herding

According to the AKC: The breed is watchful, energetic, fearless, alert, intelligent, friendly, eager to please, active, and steady, making a good herding and companion dog. Sound temperament, neither vicious or shy.

Why this dog works: These guys are some of the loyalist, smartest dogs you'll find. Don't let their size fool you: they are downright mighty. I respect this dog a lot for what it does despite its Corgi-like appearance.

7) The Toy Fox Terrier

Group: Toy

According to the AKC: Truly an American breed, the Toy Fox Terrier is a big dog in a small package that possesses intelligence, courage and a take-charge attitude. Both a Toy and a Terrier, they are a true working dog, delighting in hunting tree squirrels and flushing out rodents. Toy Fox Terriers are an outgoing and friendly breed, yet fiercely loyal to their families. The Toy Fox Terrier is intelligent, alert and friendly, and loyal to its owners. He learns new tasks quickly, is eager to please, and adapts to almost any situation. The Toy Fox Terrier, like other terriers, is self-possessed, spirited, determined and not easily intimidated. He is a highly animated toy dog that is comical, entertaining and playful all of his life.

Why this dog works: He sounds exactly like me. The only reason he's not higher up is that, due to excessive in-breeding and his tiny size, he's gone from a great family dog to an obnoxious, yippy fashion accessory. What the general public has done to this sweet little terrier is downright criminal.

6) The Glen of Imaal Terrier

Group: Terrier

According to the AKC: Game and spirited with great courage when called upon, otherwise gentle and docile. Although generally less easily excited than other terriers, the Glen is always ready to give chase. When working they are active, agile, silent and dead game.

Why this dog works: Aside from looking fucking adorable and being a native Irish breed, I knew afamily that had one, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a happier little pooch.

5) The Irish Terrier

Group: Terrier

According to the AKC: The Irish Terrier sports a beautiful red coat, an alert expression and trim outline with piercing eyes that reflect a rare intelligence. He is a gallant picture of authentic terrier type and character. The breed is good tempered, spirited and game. The Irish Terrier is a smart, quick dog that quickly adapts to new situations. He’ll guard his home and family members with determination and pluck. The temperament of the Irish Terrier reflects his early background: he was family pet, guard dog, and hunter. He is good tempered, spirited and game. It is of the utmost importance that the Irish Terrier show fire and animation. There is a heedless, reckless pluck about the Irish Terrier which is characteristic, and which, coupled with the headlong dash, blind to all consequences, with which he rushes at his adversary, has earned for the breed the proud epithet of "Daredevil." He is of good temper, most affectionate, and absolutely loyal to mankind. Tender and forebearing with those he loves, this rugged, stout-hearted terrier will guard his master, his mistress and children with utter contempt for danger or hurt. His life is one continuous and eager offering of loyal and faithful companionship and devotion. He is ever on guard, and stands between his home and all that threatens.

Why this dog works: I think the AKC has said enough. And yes, I might be slightly racist towards Irish dogs. That being said, this really is a spectacular breed.

4) The Belgian Sheepdog

Group: Herding

According to the AKC: The Belgian Sheepdog should reflect the qualities of intelligence, courage, alertness and devotion to master. To his inherent aptitude as a guardian of flocks should be added protectiveness of the person and property of his master. He should be watchful, attentive, and always in motion when not under command. In his relationship with humans, he should be observant and vigilant with strangers, but not apprehensive. He should not show fear or shyness. He should not show viciousness by unwarranted or unprovoked attack. With those he knows well, he is most affectionate and friendly, zealous of their attention, and very possessive.

Why this dog works: Mostly for the possessive factor. This is a dog that loves his Master, to the point of letting itself die if its Master passes away. This is a dog that is nothing without a human, and a dog whose sole purpose is to obey. The only reason he's not farther up is because his looks are incongruous with mine.

3) The Border Terrier

Group: Terrier

According to the AKC: His temperament ideally exemplifies that of a terrier. By nature he is good-tempered, affectionate, obedient, and easily trained. In the field he is hard as nails, "game as they come" and driving in attack.

Why this dog works: The look, the personality, and the group all scream my name. ("Julie! Julie, down! Down! Julie! Julie! Go lay down!" it screeches.) I love this dog and everything it stands for. This is the terrier to end all terriers. My own dog is a mix of Border Terrier. You'd be hard-pressed to find a better breed.

2) The Briard
Group: Herding

According to the AKC: He is a dog of heart, with spirit and initiative, wise and fearless with no trace of timidity. Intelligent, easily trained, faithful, gentle, and obedient, the Briard possesses an excellent memory and an ardent desire to please his master. He retains a high degree of his ancestral instinct to guard home and master. Although he is reserved with strangers, he is loving and loyal to those he knows. Some will display a certain independence.

Why this dog works: Here's your typical lie-by-your-side and kick-the-ass-of-any-who-threaten dog. This is another dog who is nothing without his Master, who obeys and loves to do so. Bonus points for the 'do.

1) The Pyrenean Shepherd

Group: Herding

According to the AKC: The Pyrenean Shepherd is not merely a header or a drover. Such a division of labor is unknown to him. He is a versatile herder to his very soul and has the intelligent initiative to adapt to all manner of changing circumstances in order to fulfill the human shepherd's every need with unequalable prowess. The powerful herding instinct is so strong in him that from the very youngest age he knows how to manage the flock even without the example of an older dog. He is dominated by his love for his work. He has the tendency to become passionately attached to his owner to the complete exclusion of all others and is astonishingly sensitive to his owner's moods. As a companion, he is very active and enthusiastic and insists upon being involved in the day's activities whatever they may be. He is very affectionate with the members of his immediate family, but is distrustful of strangers.

Why this dog works: I don't even need to explain. Look at him. "He has the tendency to become passionately attached to his owner to the complete exclusion of all others and is astonishingly sensitive to his owner's moods?" This is a lovely dog, coat to soul. Someone throw this guy a bone.

One interesting thing about this list is the groups I found myself gravitating towards. Personally, I think I take after terriers. Yet if we look at the list, I have only three terriers, compared to eight in the sporting and herding groups. Though we should take into account my herding and sporting tendencies. I think one of the coolest things I could ever do would be to herd a group of fluffy human sheep, possibly sporting little bells around their necks. Sound weird? Well, shut up, your fetish is weirder.

And now, for you still here and still morbidly curious about the looks of these breeds, even though I already explained that I don't physically take after any of them... here's a breakdown, on a 15-1 scale (I couldn't choose between 1 and 2, sorry). I think you'll see exactly what I'm into based on my top five. Click for larger size.

Well, I think that about does it. Took me a few hours on the AKC site to narrow down their 150+ breeds to my top fifteen. (Got me right depressed, too. "Oo, look at that lovely dog!" I'd say, followed by the crushing realization that I'll never get to be judged in the ring. I swear, if I could, I would win best in show. Call me egotistical, but I think I would at least get best in breed, though I don't really have a breed.) And speaking of breeds, shameless plug here, mutts are the best damn breed there is. Sorry to all my cocker spaniel, poodle, and lab friends. But it's true. Don't hate the player; hate the game. ;)

Timeline of Awesome

2010-01-10T22:52:00.007-06:00

So I need to brag a wee bit here and also throw up some disclaimers.

Right, so, first of all, today I was hanging out with Jack G and his roomie/brother. And we started talking about blogs, since both Jack and me have one which we're simultaneously embarrassed and proud of. So then his roomie/bro (let's call him Anthony G) happened across, the same day Ben read my blog earlier this morning and was all, "Who is Jack G??" (Also last week a guy claiming he's related to me e-mailed me. Hi Pat. Since everyone in Northern Ireland is probably distantly related, I can reasonably believe we are third cousins, five times removed, or whatever. Though you probably won't want to think we're related after reading my blog some more.)

So to clarify for the boys who may or may not be reading (I asked all three not to but I know how tempting it is to read about yourself), here's what you need to know for my blog to make a damn bit of sense:

-I know two Bens. One of them sleeps with me occasionally (Ben F). From now on, all "Bens" are to be assumed to be Ben F unless I clarify that it's Ben M.

- I know two Jacks. Jack H is my therapy buddy from the UK who I've known forever. Jack G is a college student here who I met only a few months ago.

- The reason I asked all of you not to read is that I'm kind of disgusted by my whiny behavior regarding my awful break-up / trainwreck with Tom. (Fortunately, there's only one Tom.) (Why do all my male friends have common, monosyllabic names?)

- Just in case you ARE reading, I might as well mention that the original theme of this blog wasn't my d/s relationships, but my mental disorder. Mild personality disorder, which has actually been under control of late, so let's not make a big deal over it. It's really embarrassing.

There. That clears that up, I think.

Part of the reason I've been skimming over the mental thing is that there's an awful stigma attached to it. I'm not crazy or anything. I've been handling myself quite well, what with the dropping out of school and the family feud and the miscarriage and the issues with Ben. (That's Ben F, for those of you just tuning in.) I don't want to be pitied, or seen as weak or unstable. I am many things, such as a total sociopath and a sometimes drunkard. But one thing I am not is weak. Like most subs, I believe myself to have a very strong inner core, a personal strength borne of high self-esteem and confidence. Not to toot my own horn, but you have to admit, I'm far more self-sufficient than most people my age, and I carry myself well when faced with disaster.

Now if you were paying attention, you'll notice I just made a clever segway from excusing my embarrassing mental problems (okay, "personality disorder," not really "mental problem," as that implies I'm retarded; personality disorder just means I get anxious easily and am horribly anti-social, like 99.999999% of those involved in the BDSM culture) to the d/s aspect of my life. (I did it again in the parenthesis. Am I good or what?)

If you've been following the Jack saga (Jack G), you'll know that I've been collared and have been having some smashing physical activities, which I promised to be discreet about to spare Jack G embarrassment, and Ben F jealousy, since he blatantly told me he didn't want to hear about it at all.

But I think I need to brag a bit. Because I have probably a dangerously high libido and a lot of weird fetishes and I never get those needs fulfilled. So here was my month of January so far:

Jan 1st: Doggy style with Ben to ring in the new year.

Jan 3rd: More halfhearted sex with Ben, though it wasn't that great, frankly.

Jan 9th: Sex with Jack, time number 3. Lasted all of a few seconds but was easily the best orgasm I've ever felt a guy have. I literally said "wow."

Jan 10th (today): Did it with twins. Yeah, bitches, twins! Tried to call Michelle and Colleen and Tom but apparently no one answers their phone anymore, even if Julie has a good threesome story. From the moment I found out that Jack G was an identical twin I had this silly pipe dream, but never mentioned it for fear of seeming weird. So then Jack brings it up and it was great. Yeeeeah. Nothing's sexier than sucking a guy's brother's dick and I say that in all seriousness. I really hope we do it again because being with two guys is on the Awesome Equivalency Scale (AES) of getting into a light saber dual with Obi-Wan and kicking his ass.

Speaking of weird, get this: both Jacks I know have a sister named Lilly. Am I lost in a weird space-time continuity rip? Everyone I know has all these bizarre doubles.

So now I have this perfect anti-relationship with all three, no strings attached, plus collar. Eat it, Tom! Eat it like it's pie! Delicious pie!

Now off to bed. I came home hoping for peace and quiet, since I have to be at work at 4 am again for inventory, but Ben was here (Ben F, remember, blog readers), and he took out the dogs for me and they're all wound up and barking like mad. (Well, I can definitely sympathize. I'd bark like mad too if I weren't so tired. Life is good.)

(Edit: moved around sidebar a bit, including updated links. Still haven't fixed grammatical error in the comments field, please be patient with me.)

10 Things I Get Asked at Work (That Piss Me the Hell Off)

2009-12-30T10:54:00.005-06:00

I dedicate a lot of space on this blog and a lot of tubes on the internet to complaining about Tom.

For example: I was telling him about Jack hoping he'd infuse me with some much-needed guilt, and at some point we started talking about our past relationship (if you could call it that), and he pulled out this line: "I never thought about having sex with you."

Whoa, wait, what? Yeah you did. Either you're lying to me now or you lied to me before. For someone who values truth (and justice) (and the American Way), you sure do make a lot of contradictory statements, don't you?

I thought that was kind of a bombshell. I don't love Tom anymore but I can still say I had some pretty graphic sexual fantasies about him, back in the good ol' days. Let's not be immature and deny that ever happened. Unless, like I said, you lied to me previously.

But today's entry is not about Tom. Tom is old news. And Jack, despite being newer news than Tom, is also sort of old news at this point. And Ben's penis is still a soft, flaccid piece of epic fail, so I had to come up with something, quick, to fill up more tubes on the internet.

And here's what I came up with:

Ten Things I Get Asked at Work
(That Piss Me the Hell Off)

10) "Where are the Levi's?" / "Where is Ed Hardy?" / "Where are your Christmas sweaters?"

Working at Macy's for a year has made me realize that all Levi jeans have cloaking devices. How do I know this? Because at least once a week someone asks me where the Levi's are while standing in the middle of the Levi section surrounded by fixtures overflowing with jeans and tables covered in denim.

I hate this question because it's impossible to answer without the use of excessive sarcasm.

We also get a lot of requests for things like Ed Hardy and Rudy Rd. and Anne Klein. None of which we carry. Often, after telling someone we don't carry it, they respond with: "But it was advertised in this flier!" or "But the Macy's in New Jersey has it!" I think they expect me to go, "Oh, well, in that case... HERE IT IS!"

The fact of the matter is, we're a small Macy's in a small, one-story mall in a small town in the middle of Pennsylvania. Shockingly, we don't have the room to stock all the brands as the 2.2 million ft² Macy's in New York. The catalogues are generated at a corporate level, which means not everything advertised in the coast-to-coast periodicals applies to every single individual store.

Finally, our stores are organized by brand, not merchandise. So when you ask where the sweaters or the tights or the other generic clothing article is, you're going to get a lot of different answers.

All three of these annoying questions could be avoided if you just looked around for it. Seriously. And then if you don't see it and we don't have it and you complain that X's store has it, maybe you should consider, you know... just going there instead.

9) "Can I get a price check?"

Okay, not actually an irritating question by itself. But let's examine why this is annoying:

First of all, every piece of clothing has a tag.

Secondly, if it's on sale, there will be a sign on the fixture. "19.99!" it will scream at you in huge, red letters.

Thirdly, if it's on clearance, it's cheap and that's all you need to know.

Lastly, we have strategically placed price checkers all over the department that tell you how much it is, and how much you can save with coupons.

So there's no real reason to ask me this, unless you're blind, can't do math or identify numbers, or plan on arguing with me over the price. This is not a Turkish bazaar. The price is what it is, and no matter how many times you price-check it, it's still probably 19.99, just like the tag and the huge sign and the pricechecker said.

The "what is the price?" question is inevitably followed by "then I don't want it" or "okay, I'll take it." The first one is delivered as a personal insult, while the second one is delivered rapidly, in a way that suggests I've worn them down and they have no choice but to buy it because I won't them them leave unless they do.

8) "Where are the fitting rooms?" / "Is this fitting room open?"

In my regular department, there are no less than five dressing rooms.

Let me repeat that: Five. Dressing. Rooms.

Three are against the wall, with large, black letters above them that say "FITTING ROOMS." The other two are right behind the two central registers, in the middle of the floor.

Now, first of all, think about this:

The fitting rooms logically have walls and are not accessed by trapdoor or ladder. So they must be against the walls, right? How about looking against the walls first? They're clearly labeled, too. Frankly, even in the two far corners of the department, you can still see two of them. In the middle of the department, you can see four of the five dressing rooms.

Now for the second question. Are they open? Well, let's see. There's no door. Our fitting rooms are literally open corridors with little rooms for changing inside. Do they look open to you? This isn't Target; you don't need a tacky plastic card to go in there. We don't care how many items you have. Just go. Do they look guarded to you? Even to the most casual observer, it's clear where the dressing rooms are and that you don't need special permission to enter.

True story: I once had a lady ask me to unlock a fitting room. That's right. The fitting room without a door. She must have assumed we had forcefield technology.

7) "How does this look?" / "Does this go together?" / "Am I supposed to wear this with a belt?"

If I'm in a good mood, this question doesn't bother me too much. But follow me here, camera guy:

I'm paid to sell clothes. They judge me by how much I sell.

Don't you think I have a slightly biased opinion?

First of all, of course I'm going to tell you to get the damn belt or matching jacket. It boosts my sales!

Second of all, I know you're going to do whatever you want regardless of what I say. So even if I say it looks awful and three other coworkers agree with me, if you think it looks good, you'll buy it and just assume we've all got identical, horrible taste in clothes.

Third, I can't really be honest with you, can I? Macy's frowns upon telling customers that those pants make them look fat. Frankly, we sell a lot of clothes that are just awful. But as an employee, I can't say, "You look like a whore."

I think it's a mistake to ask the person selling you the clothes if they think the clothes look good or are a good price. You want a truly honest opinion? Bring a friend. Don't put us on the spot.

6) "BonTon has this for 29.99. Why is is 39.99 here?" / "Why doesn't my coupon work?"

Oh no. You've stumbled upon my secret identity! You thought I was a mild-mannered sales associate, working for $8/hr and trying not to slit my wrists with the retagging gun! But in actuality, I am...

VORLAX. GOD OF THE COUPON.

Or, alternatively...

LORD PRICETERION, SETTER OF ALL PRICES.

And for those wondering, it's pronounced "price-TEER-ee-on."

For some reason people love to ask me "why?" And the answer is: I don't know. That item is excluded from the coupon because the coupon says it's excluded from the coupon. That item is more/less here because we said so. Our competitors might be having a sale or something, but I wouldn't know, since I don't work there. And by the way, no, I don't know if JC Penney's carries this same item or what the price is if they do, because I don't memorize the inventories of every department store in the world to personally save you money.

I hate people who ask stuff like this because of their obnoxious sense of entitlement. Hey, guess what? You're not entitled to coupons or cheap prices at all. We distribute coupons because it draws business. We're not obligated to do that. Your coupons and your sales and your discounts are privileges, not rights. Want it cheaper? Go to Wal-Mart.

5) "Who's closing/opening with me?"

This is a question asked by my co-workers. Now, I like nearly everyone I work with. But there are a select few dumbasses who just make me cringe. One of them asks me this question on a daily basis. On a daily basis, I reply:

"I don't know who's closing with /opening with/covering for you. I don't memorize the schedule."

Every day, she asks me this, expecting that today will be the big day that I come into work early, pour over the schedule in the breakroom, and come cocked and ready to answer any and all of her schedule-related questions.

Here's the worst part: you can look up the schedule in the computer.

Just in case she accidentally logged onto a computer and, by smashing her face against the keyboard, found my blog, here's how you check the schedule on the computer:

F1: "Timekeeping"
T6: "Schedule"
3: "View Area Schedule"

Now all you need to do is select week ("this week") and area. Oh, look at that! It tells you who you're closing with.

On Mondays and Tuesdays only one person closes in her department, and every Monday and every Tuesday, she asks who's closing with her. I explain that no one is; she is the one person who closes in her department. And every Monday and every Tuesday, she acts absolutely shocked. And I die just a little more inside.

4) "Can I return this?"

The moment someone asks me this question, I know I'll be returning that item a week later. Inevitably, this question is asked about clearance merchandise, which begs the question: why would you even bother returning a three-dollar shirt?

Don't buy the damn shirt if you're going to return it!

Oh, I see. You don't know if it'll fit. How about TRYING IT ON?

This question is a huge slap in the face for the selling associate, because returns count against our sales. Please, just try on the damn shirt. And if you're just not sure if you have a five-dollar bill to spare, you're shopping at the wrong store.

3) "Do you have any coupons?" / "Were their any coupons in today's paper?"

Let me ask you this: why in the hell would I go home after an eight or nine hour shift from a job I fucking HATE, only to pick up the local newspaper and start scanning for coupons to take into work the next day to hand out to disloyal customers who at the drop of a hat will waddle off to BonTon to try to get a better deal, thereby decreasing my own sales?

Look, I know you're out "bargain hunting," but it's really not my responsibility to bring in coupons for you to use. What's that? You left your coupon at home/in the car/thought it was food and ate it? TOUGH LUCK. That's not my problem.

And no, I don't know if there were coupons on today's paper. Hey, know what? I just had this crazy idea. Why don't you GO GET A FUCKING PAPER AND SEE FOR YOURSELF, YOU LAZY ASSHOLE?

2) "Can I pay for this here?"

"No, this register is a cardboard cutout we put here just for decoration. And those clothes you're carrying? Not actually for sale."

I get asked this at least three or four times a day by bug-eyed mongoloids, who seem in awe that their wanderings have brought them to Macy's. They ask timidly, as if years of being told no has rendered them questioning if there are in fact any real registers in the world and if they can, in fact, ever buy anything ever again. The moment I assuage their fears and assure them they can pay for this here after all, their faces flood with relief and they often urinate themselves with joy.

"Clean-up in women's shoes!"

1) "Do you work here?"

"No, I just like to wear the nametag."

"No, I'm just stealing all these pricing guns I'm carrying."

"No, I just have access to this stockroom because I'm an undercover cop and there's a crime scene in there."

FUCKING YES I WORK HERE. If I'm wearing a nametag, carrying a pricing gun, or walking out of a locked stockroom, YES, I fucking work here and you are officially fucking retarded for having to ask! God DAMN it!

PS: Analyze My Dream Contest is over! Winners announced in next entry. Thanks to all six losers with nothing better to do than think about my thoughts.

Response to Previous Post

2009-12-21T20:57:00.006-06:00

So I realized today that it's the solstice and Tom's probably having one of his parties. I shouldn't have taken it personally that he picked up; it's less than five days to Christmas, so he's probably with family and whatnot.

I feel like such a bitch for calling him last night. If he's not picking up he clearly doesn't want to talk. I need to leave him alone. Phew. Okay. Once again, I need to learn to take things not personally.

In retrospect it's a good thing he didn't answer. Last night was my first drink since Octoberish. I mean my first drink, you know? I don't know why I did that. Tomorrow I might go to AA. I need a sponsor, not a friend. I already have a friend in Jack H but I won't bother him with my problems, and it's certainly not fair to Tom to have to deal with them, either.

More Dreams

2009-12-19T05:32:00.001-06:00

I had one the night after the owl dream.

In it, my breasts were melting. The skin around the left one was like waxy, sort of plastic-y, and it was slowly pulling downward; I kept trying to tuck it into my bra and it kept sliding down; the doctors said they were going to have to perform a mastectomy. Scary as shit.

Last night I had a dream about Tom. I can't really remember. We were somewhere bright, well-lit, a cafe maybe or a very chic library; I was pretending to be asleep and I could hear him saying he was going to have to put me in a place in his mind where he put people like me; then my friend Brad asked, "You mean the place where you put the ones you give up on?" and Tom said, "No, not that..." And Brad said, "Oh, you mean you think she's going to kill herself." Because apparently Tom hadn't given up on me, he just didn't want to be close to me when I died. Again, scary as shit.

What is going on in there?

Damn it all, Kelly, what are you doing? What in the hell are all of you doing?

I've had nothing but migraines. I qualify at this point for over 9,000!!! different painkillers but I'm steering away from that stuff.

I went over to Jack G's Thursday night. I brought champagne but we didn't even open it. We just cuddled and watched Trapped in the Closet. Well, we didn't watch it. It played while we watched each other.

I've found our bodies are a perfect fit for each other. Our arms link around each other like two pieces of a puzzle. We can spend all night tangled together, one body, perfectly comfortable. I'm scared as shit. I think I'm in love. I also think I'm crazy.

But if life has taught me anything it's that passion is fleeting and only lasts in the present. Any statement made is only true at the time it's made, not in the future. I can love him but I also think I can let go when the time comes. Also, I think I love him as a sub loves her Dom, not really in the girlfriend-y way, so it's cool. But I also think I'll refrain from saying I love him since I don't want him to get the wrong idea.

At work I got into a fight with one of the managers, Don. I won't get into details but later in the breakroom he came in while I was there and we made small talk like nothing had happened, and I have to say I have a lot of respect for that, and it made me feel really awful. Much like Jackie, I think I initially misjudged him and he's just a normal guy. More and more, I'm seeing that most of my relationship problems with people stem from my own misjudgments and insecurities. I'm trying to work on this.

God help me, I really am crazy and I'm sane enough to see it but not sane enough to properly counter it. Maybe I really do need some extended therapy or something. I'm not being fair to anyone. My friends are being caught in the crossfire; Ben is taking crap because I feel unloved and inadequate; I feel like I'm manipulating both Jacks, too.

I really want to talk to Tom more than anyone. Tom has a certain sort of clarity and he's far enough removed from me currently to talk some sense about this whole mess. But I can't get ahold of him and that's probably for the best because he probably doesn't want to be involved. I need someone who knows how fucking crazy I am to... just talk to. What if I'm going crazier?

The worst part is this is all in my head and I know it.

Nothing's changed.

Ben hasn't been any more or less standoffish than usual. Jack H and I are no closer or further than before. It's all the same and here I am, panicking over it like it's new.

Help me.

Christ, Tom, please.

Pick up the phone.

Leap of Faith

2009-12-15T10:55:00.004-06:00

So Ben was thoroughly angry with me through the next day. Fortunately his silence helped me come to a couple realizations:

1) I need to treat him better. Even if Brian is pretentious and condescending, he has a point; I do take Ben for granted and occasionally do treat him like crap, and he's stuck by my side through EVERYTHING. He's the only real family I have left.

2) I need to be more careful. Just because Ben and I are over doesn't mean I can be promiscuous about our relationship. As such, I've hidden some of my recent posts. They'll be revealed later, but for now, I'm going to be more discrete. In the same way Jack G doesn't want to hear about Jack H, and Tom wouldn't want to have heard about Ben back in the day, it's pretty crummy of me to assume that just because Ben's not fucking me, he'll want to hear every little detail of my budding relationship with Jack G.

3) The dogs need a strict walk schedule. Carlisle is "kinda-sorta" housetrained and that's not good enough. Work on this started yesterday.

So this morning I was going to submit my petition for in state tuition but I lost my letter of employment verification and I'm not sure it'll happen now. (I can always get it later and submit this stuff on my lunch break I guess.) It's put me in a state of panic because it's the 11th hour and I really need to get this NOW. I can't believe the hoops they make you jump through to get the bloody tuition cut; I know the university is out to make money, but this is just ridiculous.

This morning I wasn't feeling quite so panicked, either. Actually, after a good night's sleep, I felt much better, plus I had a good/trippy dream. ("Huh. Well that was just weird. I should probably cut down on the drugs.")

It started like this: I discovered I had a door in my room that was apparently some sort of portal to an abandoned factory. The abandoned factory was actually very peaceful; it was in the middle of a forest. All the windows were broken and the sunlight streamed in; the floor was dusty but there was some moss and grass growing up through the rubble. In this abandoned factory was Jack's bed. So naturally, I walk in and we get right to business. There were about 20 dream minutes of hardcore pornography of me nuzzling and slobbering all over Jack's dick before we finally started having sex. Then we heard someone approaching! It was the police! Oddly, the SVU police, detectives Stabler and Benson, followed by Ice-T and a bunch of other guys with dogs!

So right in the middle of coitus, I jump off Jack G's cock and run to another door. This door opens into a small stone room. Again, the floor is grown up with moss and grass; the windows clearly show a sunny forest outside; I can hear the police searching the factory. I open a door that should leave outside to the forest, but no! It's a cliff! A sheer cliff so high up that I appear to be miles above the clouds. I turn around in a panic. My friend Bettina is there.

"You're trapped!" she declares triumphantly. "There's nowhere to go!"

(Apparently she's in league with the SVU police who are raiding the abandoned factory in the middle of the woods for no reason. Don't worry. It gets weirder.)

I turn around. I'm standing in the doorway, looking off the cliff. I look back at her. The police are approaching our room.

And suddenly I know I'll be fine.

I leap.

I've only been falling for a few seconds when I feel my bones cracking. It starts in my elbows. I look at my arms, and they're getting longer. The bones are shifting, and feathers are sprouting. It doesn't hurt, but I can feel the bones grinding around in there. The wings come first; by the time I hit the clouds I'm soaring, and by the time I reach the ground, I've turned into an owl. I swoop gracefully over a large Victorian garden. It's night now, and raining, yet some ladies in Victorian dresses are enjoying tea. My mom's in there too. I perch on a nearby gazebo to watch them, hoping they'll see what a lovely owl I've become.

Then the alarm went off and ruined possibly the coolest dream I've ever had.

Now, according to Freud we can't analyze our own subconscious, because the moment we suggest something, it's no longer subconscious and therefore is no longer a possibility.

So I'm proposing a contest wherein you, the reader, analyze my dream in the comments section. Winner gets an MS Paint doodle of themselves as Freud plus one (1) internet. I need at least five (5) entries before I announce a winnar. GO, FREUDLINGS, GO!

Conflict

2009-12-11T21:40:00.005-06:00

So Ben and I got into a fight.

It was over Carlisle, who is still only "kinda sorta" housetrained and had an accident in the car. (Ben's car, actually, hence the fight.)

I guess growing up with my family has made me gunshy about fights. My father, a retired colonel, ruled largely by fear. (Can't speak for the rest of the family, but I was pretty much on eggshells around him for near two decades.)

Then Brian texted me and we got into a fight, which has been coming a long time because frankly he makes me really uncomfortable and his entire fixation on me seems centered around my fetish, which annoys me because I don't want one aspect of my personality(ies) to define me. Also he was all, "don't pretend you have morals," and that stung. Fuck you, sir, I have morals. Just because my relationship is atypical doesn't mean I lack morals; shit, earlier today I was decorating stockings with Alice, and I spent last weekend visiting prison inmates.

I think people think they know me better than they do because of this blog, but I don't type much of my morality because

1) That would be really arrogant,

2) Community service tends to be boring to write about,

3) This blog is my catharsis and all the "good" stuff I do doesn't bring me any conflicting emotions.

Anyway, now I'm waiting to watch TV with Ben, who just got off work. I'm considering writing "I'm sorry" on the dog. White dogs and childsafe markers are two things no sane person would have put together in my apartment.

"Why, lassie, you have a bonnie new collar!"

2009-12-10T21:01:00.002-06:00

Damn right I do! Pretty teal with fancy-ass details. Real fucking classy. *spits tobacco into large hillbilly jug*

Jack put it on and boy do I feel spiffy.

So that's all that needs said there.

An update as to Tom: we didn't hang out Wednesday after all as he was hanging out with Mandy instead, but we talked a wee bit and he wants to possibly hang out this weekend, which would be nice since it would be a good chance for me to show off my new collar. (And bonus points if he can talk about it in a Jock or Trusty voice.)

The thing is, I feel bad, because he seemed so excited to hear I was doing well. Now, I understand that, since about two or three months ago, I was drunk out of my mind all the time and was basically a brain-dead, shell-like shadow of a person. In other words, an inebriated zombie. (Speaking of inebriated zombies, check out http://www.zombie-film.com/.) So I can see why this total 180 is a pleasant and unexpected surprise. A lot of people were banking on me eventually killing myself.

But I also don't feel like we should just be friends again like nothing happened. I acted like a huge bitch and I don't think Tom should be so forgiving. (I wouldn't be if I were in his shoes.) Trust has to be earned and I have a long way to go to earn it back, if I even ever do.

Anyway, I'll post pictures if I ever figure out how to operate my webcam. (Pics, or it didn't happen.)

Some Thoughts On/For Tom

2009-12-09T01:00:00.004-06:00

Hey Tom.

I asked if we could talk and you said yes.

Originally we were supposed to do it Tuesday, but I worked until 1 am so instead we decided to get together Wednesday. I had two missed calls from you today asking if I was coming by. Maybe I just invented that memory of calling and rescheduling for Wednesday. It's difficult for me to keep track sometimes, what with the insanity and all.

So the messages you left weren't very heartening. Not that I can blame you, what with how I've acted over the last year. The first one was all, "If you're drinking don't bother coming here." Then you started talking about how last time left a biter taste in your mouth and I deleted the message without listening to the rest. (Sorry, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth, too, so I'd rather not revisit it.) The second one was more like, "Hey, still coming by?" But you hardly sounded excited. (And I don't blame you.)

So hopefully we'll see each other tomorrow but if we don't here's what I wanted to say:

1) I'm sober. (Shocking, right?) For well over a month. I detoxed (I thought I sent you a message about that? Maybe not; my memory is bad) and have hardly touched the stuff at all, except at bars with Jack. Speaking of which,

2) Jack's fixed me. Or at least he's helping to fix me, somehow. I'll probably never be "fixed" but at least I'm sort of "fixed up," like in the sense of making a beat-up car a beat-up car that can drive around. Maybe I just needed to know someone in the world gave a shit, enough to cross an ocean, enough to see past the flaws. Someone who looked at a bunch of shattered glass and went, "You know, there's still a fine vase in there somewhere, and I'm willing to give it a go trying to fix it."

3) Kelly's integrating. (????????) Don't ask me how this works, and no, he's not just slapping all of us together, he's doing something with, I don't know, the ones I don't need anymore, some sort of bizarre internal shuffling that's got me fairly mixed up, but hopefully will leave me with half the number of personalities I had before. Don't know if I'll be less crazy or if he'll be replacing them or if the ones that remain will just take over the time spent by the old ones, but it is fairly exciting.

Also I guess I want to talk to someone about my conquering of Jack's short, Jewish virginity. (Edit: Jack is short. Not his penis. Just wanted to clarify.) Since Tom can't think any less of me anyway, I might as well tell him the story, since I'm pretty sure he'll guilt me into feeling bad. (I don't feel bad. Should I? Ben gave me a blank check on Jack ["I don't want to hear about it."] and considering my pussy's been shaved for like over a month and he hasn't even noticed, I don't see why he would even care. It's sort of like if he had a book that I gave him, and he never read it, and so I loaned it out to someone else.)

Also I suppose I owe Tom an apology. So I acted stupidly. First of all, why does Tom give a shit about my self-destructive behavior? I own my body so who cares what I do with it. He hasn't really seemed to care about me lately so I'm not sure why he gets so worried when I act stupidly... I guess because he hates the drama, that makes sense. But also I sort of feel like he owes me an apology, I don't know, stupid behavior is a major cry for help and I feel like if he had reacted more like Jack maybe I would have gotten over it. Instead I went into a Bella Swanesque spiral that would have killed me if ~~Jacob~~ Jack hadn't shown up when he did. Not that it's Tom's fault that I got all emo on his behalf (he didn't ask for it), but still, he did hurt me, and if we're going to play the "you hurt me/I hurt you" game, it'll never end.

And I'm not blaming Tom. Just saying I feel sort of bad that we went from being in love (maybe only in my imagination; well, anyway, I was in love with him, so we were at least half in love) to Tom wanting nothing to do with me because I was too messed up. I always thought of him as a lifelong friend I could always rely on, and boy did that crash down around my ears.

We'll probably never be close friends again, and that's okay, I definitely brought that on myself. But I guess I still do consider him a friend (weird, right?) and I would still like to talk to him, and I think maybe it'd give him some peace of mind or closure or something to know that I'm doing immeasurably better.

If (when?) Jack leaves the country in six months, will I go back to the way I was? Zombified?

I don't think so.

Jack cares. If Jack cares, that means there's other people in the world I haven't met yet who would care too, who knows how many. It's worth sticking around for them. Losing one person doesn't nullify my existence; it took a short Jewish virgin to teach me that. I'm worth the span of an ocean. That means everything.

I hope we do see each other tomorrow. (Technically today, actually.) I don't expect any sort of forgiveness or anything, but I hope Tom feels the way I do about him now; I've lost a very dear friend and I miss him, and even if we're never close friends again, maybe at least we can still have an interest in the other's life and empathize with the good we've found there.

2X!

2009-12-05T16:04:00.004-06:00

Mission accomplished.

This morning, snow.

Crystal-covered world with lattice-work branches; this surely is a sign.

Hey, Wait a Tic!

2009-11-30T21:08:00.002-06:00

I just realized that I began my last entry talking about using a medieval torture device for sexual pleasure and ended it by saying I felt not crazy.

Just like a crazy person to say something like that, huh?

(PS: We're going out to dinner Wednesday. Did I mention he gave me a massage last night? Yeah. Be jealous. Be very jealous.)

Oh, That Jack of Mine

2009-11-30T10:11:00.003-06:00

Spent last night at his place. Nothing exciting; he's getting there, though. We're going to get out the rack his roomie has lying around. (Convenient, huh? In mint condition too, as his roommate broke up with his girlfriend/sub/whatever she was just after getting it.)

I nearly pissed myself laughing when I saw his yarmulke lying on the counter next to his bowl.

Vying for in-state tuition at PSU, which is more difficult that getting US citizenship and access to the Pentagon combined.

That's about it. No recent hits from my Mystery Altoona Stalker, though, sorry, Michelle, I don't think it's Mandy. Why? Because if she cared enough to read my blog she would have picked up the phone once in the last year. And that applies to the rest of them also.

Which reminds me, I actually picked up the phone myself and left Hope an apology on her voicemail, not because I think we'll be friends again but because it was the right thing to do and I owed it to her. I feel pretty proud of myself for being, well, human. Jack's been good for/to me. I feel like a reasonable person who actually makes normal choices. It's almost like being not crazy.

Time for Some Long Overdue Suspicion

2009-11-27T13:07:00.004-06:00

Alright, blog.

First things first.

Someone from Altoona is still regularly checking my blog. Last hit was November 24.

Now, who the hell could that be.

Facts: Tom and Hope have disowned me as per my family and are not talking to me. Therefore it follows that they do not care about my life. Adrien and Mandy are likewise no longer talking to me and unless I'm much mistaken no longer even live in Altoona.

SO WHO THE HELL ARE YOU???

*shakes fist at screen* SHOW YOURSELF!! I COMMAND YOU!

Listen up here, pal. Yeah, you! If you care enough about me to check my blog every few days then why don't you let me know who you are? Why don't you ever leave comments? What's the big idea, huh? See, you've got me so riled up, I'm speaking like a New York mobster from the early twentieth century, see? Nyeh?

Whoever you are, you'd better 'fess up soon because I'm tired of seeing hits from Altoona on my blog. And I swear to God, if this is you, Adrien, Hope, Mandy, or Tom, you better quit it RIGHT NOW. This is NOT how you disown someone. Allow me and my friend Mr. Webster to clarify:

disown

dis·own (dis ōn′)

transitive verb

to refuse to acknowledge as one's own; repudiate; cast off

Now, tell me, good sirs and madams, how, pray tell, HOW does checking my blog repudiate me? It's the exact opposite of repudiate! It's a demonstration of how much you acknowledge my presence in the world! Frankly, it's unacceptable and I will have no more of it.

Mystery Altoona Blog Hitter, I insist that you cease and desist immediately, or at the very least unveil yourself to me so I know who cares for me deep down inside. (It's probably someone I've never met.)

Now onto the next order of business: Macy's. I got up at 3:30 am this morning to be in for Black Friday. Not a bad day all in all. Yesterday I had Thanksgiving dinner with my pastor and it was fabulous. Jack texted me to advise me to "not get trampled at Macy's," which I tried my hardest not to do. Only got yelled at by two customers, which is nothing. Heck, I can do that in my sleep. In fact, I did, because when you get up at 3:30 am, a bleach-blonde redneck chick saying she hates you over the $2.12 she lost when her coupon didn't work is very hard to stay awake for.

I plan to spend the rest of the day playing video games, writing in my journal, and putting up the Christmas tree. I also might take the dogs to the park. Also I might text Hope.

See, I have a good friend at work named Hope. So I put her in my phone, under "Hope," assuming that I had deleted the old Hope. (Could've sworn I did.) Unfortunately it looks like I dropped the ball and somehow never did delete Hope (the one who hates me). But then again, this might be a perfect opportunity for some top-notch sleuthing.

Here's how it'll go:

Me: Hey, is this the Hope from work or the Hope who hates me and isn't talking to me?
[For Hope=friend, select option A. For Hope=enemy, select option B.]

Option A

Hope: This is Hope from work.
Me: Oh, hi Hope. Say, wanna go to the sock hop this weekend?
Hope: Sure, that sounds swell!

Option B
[For Hope=hangup, select option A.1. For Hope=makesthemistakeofspeaking, select option A.2.]

Option A.1
[dial tone]

Option A.2

Hope: This is the Hope you horribly mistreated who hates your guts and stole your last chance to spend time with Tom.
Me: Oh, okay. Sorry, I was looking for Hope v2.0. Hey, but as long as I have you on the phone, do you know who's stalking me from Altoona? 'Cause it's making me pretty paranoid.
[dial tone]

See how easy that was? It's not that I want to bother Hope anymore. Let's face it, I've put her through enough. Besides, she's over me, so I really ought to be over her. But the thing is, I don't have any else's contact info. I scratched all of them out of my life and they scratched me out of theirs. I only have Hope's number by a happy (or unhappy) mistake. I can't even send Adrien and Mandy a congratulations-on-the-marriage card, since I have no idea where they live now.

And once I figured out which number is my friend Hope and which one is the Hope that hates me, I can just delete Old Hope's number. But I need to figure out which one is which, and I might as well ask who the hell's still following my blog in the meantime.

Oh, wait. I wasn't yet done being paranoid. One more concern:

Am I too trusting? Let's look at the two Jacks here.I recently realized that Jack and I haven't seen each other in about six years. A lot can change in six years. And he came here and it turned all fine and dandy. To say nothing of the other Jack, who I hooked up with the second time we hung out. Am I putting too much on the line, too quickly? Should I really trust this man after I trusted Tom and that blew up in my face? Am I setting myself up for disappointment yet again? I'm suspicious of my happiness. And I'm suspicious of my suspicions. What if I'm just supposed to be happy and everything's fixing itself and I need to go with the flow and just stop worrying? *head explodes*

Flower (31)

2009-11-16T21:15:00.003-06:00

Today at Macy's, we ordered Garfield's. Yesterday we had pizza. Being an ambassador means all the perks of being a manager without being too close to corporate or too far from the associates on the selling floor, and I love it.

I came home in time to have dinner with the Smiths.

Ben bought me flowers for no good reason, something no man's ever done for me.

Everything is blooming.

I've only been drunk once this month, and it wasn't by myself at home, either; Ben and I went out to a bar with Brian, like normal people.

I don't just feel happy; I don't feel high; I just feel content and peaceful.

My father sent me a message offering to pay for me to take some classes next semester.

I feel blessed.

I owe Jack H more than I can ever repay but I don't feel indebted.

I miss my old friends, but don't worry about regaining them. I have other friends now.

It's spring again (for now) and all the flowers are coming out.

:)

Downstream

2009-11-10T19:27:00.004-06:00

Busy weekend.

Got the car inspected on Monday by a mechanic out in the middle of nowhere. Spent the day with Ben's aunt and uncle, who live in the same area. Walked the train tracks, found a dead deer, stopped by to see his grandmother on the way back. (I love Ben's grandmother.)

Today I lazed around and hung out with Alice.

I start my new position as a sort-of-assistant-manager this week, which is exciting.

Finances are doing well. I have a fifty in my purse. I should deposit it, but I think I'll take Jack out for a drink instead.

Overall I'm still feeling optimistic and happy.

Now, I did feel this way last year, too. And then I sort of got cold feet. Because let's face it: Ben and I never talk, never do anything, never have sex, which I hate to sound shallow about, but it is a big deal. I feel like if Ben really wanted to get married he would take more time towards keeping me. A girl isn't like an object you get and then you just have it; it takes work. I can't talk to him while he's gaming, or while we're in the car listening to music, so really, we never talk, and he's sort of like a roommate right now more than anything, or a distant family member. I wish he'd pay enough attention to notice that I feel this way.

But this is just another thing I feel optimistic about. Either he'll realize and get his act together and it'll all come together, or we'll remain friends and I'll carry on. Losing Tom has made me realize I don't need anyone. (Maybe that's one of the best lessons I've ever learned. Not sure if it was worth the cost, but I learned it all the same.) I love Ben and all. But I don't need him. The issue here is whether or not he wants me. There's a big difference between saying he does and actually acting like it.

(Best) Friends (With Benefits)

2009-11-07T19:43:00.005-06:00

So much has happened recently.

Well first of all let's start with my new bestest friend, Jack G.

We went out on Halloween. (I spent the night.)

He was worried when I called two days later.

We hung out Thursday and I told him not to worry.

He called Friday. I went over. We smoked pot in the cupboard under the stairs and the next morning he made me breakfast. (I spent the night.)

Now it's Saturday and all I can say is:

I'm happy.

My life is coming together, and all I needed was a (best) friend (with benefits).

In other good news, my hospital debts are nearly paid off, I got a promotion at work, and might be going back to school again soon, as is Ben.

Things are finally coming together and I feel wonderful and I think I owe part of it to God, and part of it to hard work and perseverance, and part of it to Jack.

And part of me wonders if this has anything to do with Tom's absence.

It frightens me, actually.

I lost a Master; I'm a bad sub; my life should be falling down all around me. But I slogged through it and suddenly here I am, tickled pink with what is very possibly the start of yet another d/s relationship.

How could I have gotten through this?

Why don't I need him?

I thought Tom was an irreplaceable part of my life, like my blue sweater or my thyroid. And yet I'm living happily and productively without him. I haven't even gotten trashed recently, and the only drinking I've done has been with Jack or large groups of people. I've stopped biting my nails again, and I'm no longer chewing tobacco, except Snus, and even then, not every day.

The idea of being split from Master without consequence is frightening. I don't understand how it's all going so well. Tom was my (best) friend (with Dom benefits, though he rarely, if ever, took advantage of them).

What do you mean, I don't need him?

Even more frightening is that I'm happier than I was with him.

I've found that I lay much more snugly in the crook of Jack's arm and feel much less embarrassed to be seen by him in the morning. I've found that Ben actually does give better pets, which is strange because I remembered Tom's being better, but no. I've found that thoughts of Tom don't bother me as much; I can hear the name without keeling over; I can look at pictures without crying; I can be happy for the future even while acknowledging that he might not be in it.

Was he poison to me?

I still do miss him.

I tried to call, to tell him about the sobriety, about Jack, to wish him a happy Halloween, to offer my apologies, not just for recently, but for always, because I am a terrible person to get along with sometimes.

He hasn't answered.

He told me the last time we talked that if I ever had an emergency I could call him and he would try and pick up, but that was really it. Maybe my situation wasn't an emergency. But I don't plan on having emergencies, nor calling him with them. I don't feel like I need protected by him anymore. Is this what it feels like to fall out of love? I think I still love him.

I feel like I have an actual shot now of mending this because I feel much less demented, more clear-headed than usual. Even the personalities are behaving themselves better. Even Devon.

And yet I don't mind if it isn't mended. I feel as though I'm mending without it.

Clearly, I'm either going more crazier, or Jack's penis has healing properties I was as of yet unaware of.

Jack H

2009-10-22T12:03:00.002-05:00

I told him all that happened.

He canceled his return flight to London.

I felt so good and so blessed to have a friend like this.

Now I'm panicking.

What if it all happens again?

If I can't even maintain a friendship with Tom, who, aside from Ben, is the single most important human being in my life, how can I trust myself with Jack?

2009-10-16T11:25:00.001-05:00

Today in the shower I realized: he did tell me, after all. Months ago. When Ben said if it really mattered that much to me it was okay, and I told Tom, and Tom said that "in this society it's kind of hard to get a girlfriend if you have a sub," which made no sense since he already had one when he said that.

But he did tell me. And I kept bugging him. So maybe the demonstration was necessary after all. It worked, right? I let go, haven't I? In the sense of leaving him, anyway, of giving up on him. Not in the sense of no longer loving him. But like I told Jack, I don't do that.

2009-10-15T20:17:00.002-05:00

Today it snowed. First snow of the season. I'm glad to see fall go. Two short weeks of anxiety, and now it's cold. And I hate to admit it, but it's pretty and refreshing, even though I hate the cold.

It seemed like a fitting day to snow.

Told Ben about all that happened.

He, like me, can't quite believe that Tom would have Hope there, especially since I had to make a Goddamn appointment to see him.

So I've been mulling over a few things he's said. (Just because I've given up on him doesn't mean I can't obsess here, right?)

Here they are:

1) Not a statement but an action. He took away my keys and refused to let me drive. Weird, huh? Especially since if you recall, last time I was at his place, I got drunk, walked out the door with a bottle in one hand and my keys in the other. What's the difference? It struck me: Hope. There was a third party. A witness if you will. His concern for me is purely selfish. Hmph.

2) At some point we had this conversation: "Ever seen me cry?" "No." "James has." Interpretation? I'm a shittier friend than an imaginary mental construct. He's closer to James than me. Well, if you love James so much, go get married to James, asshole.

3) "Can I have your therapist's phone number?" Oh my God, where to start. One: no. Not just because I've officially quit therapy. (After exactly three sessions.) See, I was doing it with the hope of being friends again. (Yeah right.) So here's the thing: it's called doctor-patient confidentially. You can't go talk to your friends' doctors about them. To which Tom would probably say something stupid like, "Oh no, I want to talk to her about me." To which I say: then find your own therapist, jerk. You know, like I did.

Colleen and Alisa agree that it was insanely weak of him to invite Hope. ("I didn't invite Hope. She just showed up.") Really? By coincidence? Because according to Hope herself, she never sees Tom, never stops by, never talks to him, just like me. So I find it hard to believe the one day, in months, she happens to stop by, is the same day as me and Tom's "appointment." So either Hope is lying, and she actually stops by quite often, often enough to make it statistically probable to bump into her, and/or Tom is lying and he invited her. Either way one or both of them is a liar.

Now I know they think that I got drunk and ruined the evening myself. But first of all, why would I purposely try to sabotage myself, especially concerning Tom? Unless I knew it was already all lost, which I did when I started pounding back the drinks. If we had just gone to dinner and a movie as planned, it would have been different. Go ahead and blame me for ruining it. But I ruined nothing. They brought the drama; I just took up their challenge. You want drama? You got drama. I truly wanted nothing more than to resolve. But the moment I saw Hope, and the moment she "tagged along," and the moment she sat beside him, all while he ignored me... that was when I said, what the hell. Why not. He doesn't care.

He could have just told me, though. Would've hurt less than the demonstration.

2009-10-15T07:49:00.002-05:00

I woke up this morning a few minutes before my alarm went off, though I waited for it to ring before I got up. I made myself tea, had a few shots, brushed my hair, and came to sit at the desk, and that's where you find me now, blog.

See, a lot's happened.

Yesterday was my Judgment Day. I decided to let it up to fate. I thought to myself, when I see Tom, if it goes over well, it goes over well, but if it goes over badly, as always, I can in good conscience say this was my last try and I just won't try anymore.

Sure enough it went badly.

Now, mostly that's the drugs. They put me on a ton. Sedatives, anti-psychotics, depressants. They're supposed to make me more coherent, make me dissociate less. Here are my symptoms so far:

-extreme cottonmouth
-slurred speech
-sluggishness
-exhaustion
-paranoia (more than usual)
-blinding migraines

I might flush them all down the toilet. But when you lose all your friends because of a disorder, well, you feel compelled to try to fix the disorder. Call me crazy (HA), but I figured I could earn some respect and brownie points for trying. So much for that.

Tom invited me down. And my first thought? "Ambush." He would invite me down and there would be Adrien, and Hope, and Mandy, all "tagging along," making the whole night awkward and ruined.

So I asked. Tom is always straight with me. I mean to say, he gives a straight answer, not that it's always the right one, either. But I trust him so I asked and he said it was just us. And I believed him. (You see what's going to happen, right, blog?)

So I show up and before I can even wrap my arms around him, Hope greets me.

Ahhh.

It was hard for me to wrap my brain around. (Mostly because of the rum and PK's. Not supposed to mix. But I really can't swallow without booze.)

So the short version is, we didn't see a movie, Hope tagged along, they ganged up on me for being drunk, and my night was ruined.

The first thing I did when I got home was remove them from my phone contact list, and my FaceBook. (I actually learned that trick from them. Heh.) No more, now.

See, I gave it my best. But I can't do therapy anymore. I called everyone to ask for their support through this and so far, nada. And I'm supposed to believe that Hope, who always claims to "never see Tom," just happened to stop by the same night of my redemption? Either she's lying and she's there all the time, or it was planned. Sorry, guys. Too much coincidence.

Anyway I freaked the hell out near the end after they took away my rum (had half of month's prescriptions in there, too, you know I'm not getting that $200 back). And Hope left crying (ouch, sorry, Hope). And I think I switched out, or maybe passed out, because it was like three in the morning suddenly. Tom stroked my hair. We hugged. I said goodbye.

Now I feel hollow and a tiny bit proud. I gave them up as of last night. And fate couldn't have given me a more straightforward answer. I asked to know if I should bother; Fate said no. It didn't just say no, it bitchslapped me across the room.

Here's what I wanted:

- dinner and a conversation.
- a movie.
- to hold hands again.
- for him to talk to me like he used to.

Here's what I got:

- couldn't eat. Pills make me feel ill. Tom and Hope sat on one side of the booth.
- No movie. If we'd gone, it would be Tom and Hope. Not me and Tom.
- No hands.
- They were condescending, accusing, and clearly think I'm no longer recoverable.

Here's why:

- pills.
- booze.
-Fate.
- damn you, Hope.

Now I don't have to pine anymore because I won't see him anymore. Good. Now, I've said this before, but this time I really mean it. It's different. I tried and I failed. We're just not meant to be.

The strange thing is that I remember a few days ago, telling Hope... I confessed to her the perfect little date I'd dreamed up. I wonder if she wouldn't have been there if I hadn't told her. Maybe I mentioned it was Wednesday and she subconsciouslu remembered and that's why she stopped by.

Well, there's something to be proud of, though. Maybe now Tom and Hope will be closer. Nothing unites people like a common enemy.

Gee, I feel bad, though. To hell with all these pills. No one cares if I "get better" anyway. And I don't like feeling like a dope (fiend), all slow and strung out at the same time.

I guess I feel bad because aside from embarrassing myself (again!) I also upset both of them. Well, what else can you expect from a CRAZY PERSON? How could you NOT think I was going to RUIN YOUR EVENING like the CRAZY PERSON I am??

So that's that. I said my good-bye to Tom and now there's no more Tom. Better for both of us (mostly him). Anyway I have Ben for that stuff. So life's not that bad. The important thing is that I tried.

Sorry I'm not good at explaining this all, blog. Like I said, booze and pills. Eh. No more. Maybe I'll explain better later. I guess that'll suffice for now. Said good-bye to Tom after night went horribly wrong like always. Yeah.

2009-10-13T14:51:00.002-05:00

So what I'm trying to say in a very roundabout way is that I'm both excited and nervous for Wednesday.

I miss you, Tom.

And I hate you.

I hate your silence, Adrien.

I hate your avoidance, Ben.

I hate your neutrality, Hope.

I hate that you have no justifiable reason to be hated, Mandy. And I hate you just the same.

I hate all of you, because you're the world and you (the world) have done this to me, like maybe by accident I was (am) a changeling not meant to be sent here, a creature in the wrong world, a dolphin washed ashore or a bird blown off course and lost in a place that slowly kills it. I hate you for being the world, and I hate the world because it hurts me.

I don't know why I love Tom.

I don't know why I love the rest of you, either.

I love the world. I love my life. I'm still here, angry, no, raging, silent, but screaming just the same, and I hate you most of all for ignoring me in pain. I hate you because I love you. I know rationally it's my fault. My mind is broken. But I still blame you. Why? Because I hate you. Didn't we already cover this?

I'm going back to my fiction now. Greg's life hangs suspended, balanced between genuine insanity and unfortunate circumstances, either side granting him the same misfortune, while Ian's fate was decided before he was even born, a victim of irony, which as you already know makes or breaks a story, case in point right here, see? And then there's Leland, an unreality about to get hooked on drugs (again), like Devon did back in Autumn Oaks, though not the "real" Devon, who's filled out car with smoke and cracked one of my knuckles and been there all along even before I wrote him.

(I'm sorry, Devon.)

2009-10-13T14:38:00.003-05:00

It was the third time I had called him that night, and he actually picked up the phone.

And somehow the conversation turned, mutated, raced down endless corridors before screeching to a stop at its logical conclusion: that we ought to really get together.

And so I suggested Monday, and he suggested Tuesday, an then we were in next week, and finally we gave up.

And it all hurt so much that I changed my work schedule around for him.

It wasn't hard, after all. With people calling off, the managers melting down, the corporate visit next week (no, this week, actually), I've accumulated enough brownie points to effectively manipulate work as I need to: more hours, less hours, days of my choosing, shaping my schedule and paycheck even though I need no free time and will never earn enough. But I enjoy it less and less. I don't know why.

Well, anyway, we decided to meet Wednesday and as it approaches I panic more and more. I can't stand to see him. When I think of him, I think of that anger, imagine the way he pointed at me, in front of everyone, yelled at me, paced, fists clenched, holding back his rage with every tendon in his body. And then I think of his smile, that warm day in Chicago, the sticky-sweetness of Navy Pier and the millions of people wafting around us, inconsequential, because the only thing that mattered was how perfectly our fingers laced.

And sometimes I'm given to fantasy. Sometimes I imagine it will be sane, fixed, better, reconstructed, as if I can change the past, redo what needs done in the first place. But no. That will never happen, ever. Then I back out, because fantasy only hurts me more. It's like painkillers, that cover up the pain but don't address it. Fantasy is dangerous.

So then I started thinking about poor Greg, and how what if he was like me, and he was never held hostage in Africa, never even a photojournalist, and his poor schizophrenic mind, similar to mine, had invented all the tortures that had plagued him: the whipmarks across his body, crisscrossing pinks, swirls of deeper maroon, the fresh memory of bleach stinging his eyes, infections swelling and pressure building, thin sticks of metal under his nails, what nails were left, anyway, an ear missing, lungs filling with water, darkness enfolding him...

But that wouldn't explain the scars. They're there, so clearly something had to happen to him. (Unless he did that to himself.) So my schizophrenic idea won't work, though I like the idea. But I talked it over with Ben and he agrees that making Greg insane and writing off the whole thing is weak. I might just have to abandon Greg, banish him to that netherworld where my characters I couldn't save exist, a limbo with occasional glimpses of heaven in the form of cameos in other stories.

Back to reality. I'm writing something else anyway right now. Greg's story just isn't hashed out enough. Reality, let's see. Oh, yes, trepidation. I want to see him but don't. The anxiety is boiling. I feel like it's a fist around my heart, squeezing. But this may be my last chance and I'll regret it forever.

(I've been drinking a lot lately.)

It's like Dr. Phil said: "He obviously doesn't want you. If he wanted you, he'd be with you. Get over your obsession. [paraphrased]" That's good advise.

So I called Adrien, actually I called Hope, then Mandy, but never got to talk to Adrien, and felt so angry. When has silence ever paid off for anyone? I've learned to regret silence, both the word-kind and the action-kind. I would rather say something in rage than suppress it in embarrassment or fear. I guess that's why we're going out Wednesday. I feel like I deserve a final chance. And I miss him. But Adrien still won't speak to me and I want to scream, fill the void. Damn it. Damn you.

Damn.

2009-10-04T12:34:00.002-05:00

I was in the shower this morning, thinking my little thoughts, and a bizarre one crossed my mind:

I wish I were Adrien.

Now, follow me here, blog.

Adrien and myself are very, very similar. We have semi-dysfunctional families, and rocky relations with them. We both dropped out of school and work full-time in a shitty retail job in the hopes of someday returning. We both have a lot of vested interest in writing. We both are engaged, and we're both not talking to the other because of semi-imagined insults, which weren't actually insults but just misunderstanding that we took personally because we're both very proud and occasionally paranoid.

So here's the difference:

Adrien is happy. (I assume.)

Adrien has Tom's friendship.

Adrien is in a position of power.

Let's address each of these individually:

1) Adrien, you're probably happy because you have friends and aren't as socially awkward as I. You live the same life as I, but you live it normally, minus a lot of the panic, paranoia, and downright fantasy that mine entails. You aren't anxious all the time like me; you aren't fearful all the time like me; you don't get stressed out and switch all over the place like me. Armed with your sanity, your confidence, and your large network of friends, you're happier than I, and even during the dark hours, you can fall back on your art, which I have long since lost to depression.

2) Adrien has Tom. Tom had to get off the phone with me last time because he was busy. Busy? By busy he meant he was meeting Adrien for a game of cards. Adrien obviously doesn't feel the same way I feel, but I still envy him for his place at Tom's right hand. I would give up a hand or one of my senses (and I mean that quite literally) to have the relationship they have. What it must be like to talk about everything and nothing, all night, sit around with a deck of cards and know that tomorrow if you call he'll still want to talk to you and you won't have to worry about bothering him or being obsessive. Now, part of that is their proximal relationship, I mean spatial, they're closer to each other than me, and have known each other longer and been through more, but those are just more things to envy. I wish I'd know Tom longer. I wish I were closer to Tom. And I wish we were closer, or at the very least as close as we were. The worst part? This bullet point applies only to be. I pine for Tom; Adrien taes him for granted as his best friend. Damn it all.

3) Adrien is in a powerful position. I sort of addressed this in my first point. Adrien is confident, in control. He may be anxious or paranoid, I don't know. But if he is, he's controlling it. Unlike me, he probably doesn't get drunk every night to make sure he doesn't dissociate and miss work the next morning. Now here's another similarity: we're both fighters. Here's the difference between Adrien and I. Adrien is like a bull confronted with a wall with food on the other side. He's more powerful than the wall and knows very well that he can charge, remove the obstacle in front of him, and get what he wants. He's an animal that's in a position that, while not ideal, is not impossible to overcome. I, on the other hand, am like a bull in an arena. Hurt, scared, and fighting for my life, I have no positive outcome laid in front of me. I fight because I'm scared not to and see no other choice. Adrien fights because he has the motivation, courage, and confidence to do so. I envy that strength and, again, envy his obvious nonchalant attitude about it. Damn it, Adrien, don't you see how lucky you are? You take for granted how strong you are in the face of adversary. Fuck.

So I was thinking about these things, and about Adrien, who I'm fairly sure if officially unfriended to me. I don't know how, exactly. From what I've surmised, he got mad over something I said on here (strange, as he was one of the few people I never directed a "fuck you, cuntsucker" sort of rant towards) but never told me, and then I called him, long ago, months and months ago, and asked to resolve it, and he said he would come here and we'd talk it over and it meant a lot, and he'd call me to work out details, but then he never did. (By the way, I retract that previous sidenote; I did rant towards him, after he blew me off when I tried to sort things out. That was total bullshit.)

I wish I could work things out again, but the thing is, I don't think I can. If I called again wouldn't it all just play out the same way? He obviously doesn't want to be friends.

I guess the reason I was thinking that is because I was thinking about the three bullet points ahead, which are these duel traits that I both envy and sort of respect. And you can respect something while being envious of it, which is normally where contempt comes from, I think. I'm not saying he should have cut me slack; he's probably right about my owing him apology. Not that I think I actually said anything that warranted it (I'll never know since he never called back), but I would bet my soul that I thought it, and felt it, and maybe that's what he meant.

So let's update where the group stands:

Julie/Ben: Most definitely friends, unless I missed a memo.
Julie/Tom: I think I'm a charity case to him, but I'll take it.
Julie/Hope: Friends.
Julie/Mandy: Friends, but not close. But then, we never were.
Julie/Adrien: Not friends.
Ben/Tom: Not friends. Tom's still pissy with Ben for "lying" and Ben's still pissy with Tom for accusing him of lying, not to mention the whole thing with Tom and I. Both are too proud to ever resolve it, I think.
Ben/Hope: Friends.
Ben/Mandy: Pseudofriends. Haven't talked in ages and Ben is semi-pissed that Mandy's ignoring him after they were (in Ben's mind) fairly close.
Ben/Adrien: Friends, I assume. No contact between them in over 6 months.
Tom/Adrien: Friends.
Tom/Hope: Friends? Not 100% sure, but I think they're okay.
Tom/Mandy: Friends.
Hope/Mandy: Friends.
Hope/Adrien: Friends.
Adrien/Mandy: Friends.

Actually I feel better after the reviewing the list. Mostly friends. The group is doing just fine. I should stop moping. Just because I'm not a part of it doesn't mean I can't enjoy it, you know, like the Lipizzaner Stallions or the NBA.

2009-10-02T01:09:00.002-05:00

I finally got ahold of Tom. We talked less than a half-hour, perhaps even only fifteen minutes. Closer to ten. And mostly it was me, babbling, cutting him off lest he say anything too harsh. But the snippets I got were enough. Just hearing his voice, unaccusing and normal, has gotten me through.

You know how when a car battery dies, you can still jumpstart the car and get to where you need to go?

It's like that.

He's been busy, which I knew.

I discovered the bottle of wine Ben hid from it. It's gone now. I couldn't sleep. I was up until six thirty and fell asleep on the couch, but got up around ten.

I think about when I'll next talk to Tom. It's October now. He said he had a free weekend in November. I know it won't stay free, because he has many friends and a lot of commitments and obviously more people than me, better and more interesting people, want to be with him too. But I'm going to call on a weekend in November and see if we can talk. But he'll probably call before then.

Carlisle is doing much better. We switched their food back to Pedigree. (The one-week trial with Beneful ended disastrously.) I like my dogs. Today we were out walking and I thought, look at us. When we go to the park I always feel proud because my dogs are some of the most well-behaved. We've made a functional pack, yet each of us is completely dysfunctional. It's like when you sauter three pieces of twisted scrap metal and suddenly you have a new antennae for your car. I'm glad I have them, because when I feel depressed I can always remind myself that my dogs need me and respect me no matter how far down the rabbit-hole I fall.

Finished my last tin of chewing tobacco. It's time to quit now, before the weather turns.

Can't think of anything else to say. My life really is pathetic. Tom wouldn't sit around like this. He's not treading water. I should take a leaf from his book and make a lot of friends and always be doing something, and be so busy I can't pay attention to any of them. Then maybe I would be happy.

Ben applied to South Hills technical school. Two-year degree for computer technology. Some credits may transfer, so he might be able to get his degree in a year. Then he'll have a better job with better hours and can help me go back to school.

October always has a feeling in the air. I hate cold. But autumn air is different. It reminds me of something and it makes me anxious, like I want to get in the car and drive west until I hit the ocean. I feel bigger, my chest holds more, and everything in the universe seems to align until I feel convinced the world has some grand scheme in it and unless I get cracking it will slip away. I can't describe the feeling. It's more like a smell than a feeling, but it's on my skin. I like and dislike autumn for this reason. I like the energy but I dislike not knowing why I feel this way. I feel like I'm forgetting something, or should be remembering something. I walk outside to try and get a better grasp of it, but it's intertwined with the cold and eventually drives me inside just as easily as it drew me out in the first place.

Tom probably doesn't have this feeling.

I need to learn to be more like him. Also, I need to learn to stop thinking about him. My obsession is not only unhealthy, but very unfair. I've put him in a terrible position. He's already communicated to me that he doesn't want any sort of responsibility over me, nor does he care much what happens to me, so doing or not doing anything on his count would be both selfish and pointless. I feel guilty all the time because I feel like he probably feels awkward over this whole thing and I'm making it progressively worse. That's probably the real reason he's avoiding me.

Please lift this burden, Lord.

Memory (11)

2009-09-27T17:49:00.005-05:00

It's been about 53 days now, if I'm counting right. I'm still here. Hurting, thinning, but still here and other than a septic wound on my leg, doing well. Well enough to keep going, another 53 days, and maybe more after that.

Tom sent me two messages on FaceBook, four days ago.

The first was blank, and it was written (unwritten?) in the morning. The second said he was thinking of me, and it was written at night.

I tried to call, once, then twice. Then the next day. Then the day after that. And each time... voicemail.

What do you want from me, Tom? I'm so confused. You sent me a message. Does that message mean you want to talk? That's what I thought. Actually, I kept calling because I just wanted to say WTF? What's going on that he's suddenly sending me messages and calling me at quarter to eight in the morning just to say hi? I'm worried because I'm can't shake the feeling that it's not me. What if it's one of Devon's cons? Or maybe one of the others just trying to mend our fractured relationship? All I know is, I've done nothing to deserve this, but he seems to think I have. Why?

I kept calling to say "What's going on?" Except last night, when I called to ask if he wanted to see Where the Wild Things Are with me. (No.) Now I feel more confused and hopeless than ever. I even started to think that I had dreamed all of it, but then I checked my inbox, and there are the messages. Concrete evidence he was thinking of me. Unless someone else sent them using his e-mail, and why would that do that?

Heartache.

The funny thing is that when I think of him, you know the mental image that always surfaces first?

The Renn faire, when we were watching these comedians, and they were chanting and suddenly one of them pointed to Tom and Michelle and yelled, "You two! Kiss!" And a smile lit up his face, and he opened his arms. That image is permanently burned into my skull like a brand that never heals. His goofy smile and the slightest tilt of his head. When I think of Tom, that's the image I always receive, and it hurts because that moment had nothing to do with me. It was a beautiful moment and I wish I had one of my own.

Regret is such a nasty emotion. I know obsession is unhealthy, but it's hard for me not to think about it. I had, what, one inch? I should have closed the gap. I should have taken it. I'll never have the chance again. I blew it. And I feel like my life went downhill from that moment: from the thing with Val to the thing with Duke to the thing with everything else. I feel like it's my fault. How much better would my life be right now if I'd just done it? Or would it be worse? No way to tell. But I'm fair convinced that it would be better. Couldn't be worse, could it?

And it's not just regret over that one moment, though not a day passes I don't think about it. It's regret over everything else that happened after. I feel like I'm solely responsible for losing our friendship. A year ago we could walka round holding hands and it was one of the best moments of my life. Now we can't. We can't even have a conversation, because of me. When I last saw him, he let me leave his house drunk with keys in hand, because he was on the phone with his girlfriend. God.

I wish I could see that smile again, even if it was for someone else. I miss him so much. And he's not picking up the phone. I keep repeating my mantra: "He's busy. He's busy. He's busy." It's little consolation. No one's that busy. He just doesn't want to talk. But then why all the messages? I'm so confused. What does that mean, that he's "thinking about" me? I think about him and I feel regret and love and sadness, and my heart hurts. What does he feel? Annoyance? Disgust, at what I've become and how I've treated him? There's no way for me to know. Shouldn't someone as smart as him know how confusing mixed messages are to someone like me, someone without any normal social skills? Tom, I miss you. I'm trying to contact you. Mostly because I'm confused, and worried about the others talking to you as me. That's the only explanation; I've done nothing to deserve this myself.

I wish we could go to the movies again and hold hands. I wish I didn't flinch. I wish I'd done a lot of things different. I wish I could let go. But as long as that image of his open arms and goofy smile is simmering in the back of my head, I won't. I can't. But that I could... for that, I'm sorry most of all. A better person than me would let go. (Has he? Why would he send me these messages if he had? I'm nothing to him. I'm so lost right now.)

Even if he's sending me messages, I should still be able to let go, and I can't. I try; oh, God, I do try. Because I know it isn't fair to him, nor Simone, nor anyone else. I owe all of them an apology, one I can't even give because none of them cares to hear from me anymore. The best I can do is to the wind:

I'm sorry.

Mirror (75): My Life Needs a Silver Lining

2009-09-19T22:28:00.002-05:00

Added a new song (Under the Bridge by RHCP) to my list. Considering adding "In the End" by Linkin Park, but it's sort of overplayed in general and I don't want to be stereotypical.

In news?

Today Colleen was telling me how she and her boyfriend Chris had a heart-to-heart yesterday late at night, and out of the blue asked me what my favorite feature on Ben was.

"His eyes," I said automatically.

"What's his favorite feature on you?" she asked.

I was stumped.

So I asked Ben.

And as usual Ben says, "I don't know. I like all of you."

Oh, shut up. Shut the fuck up.

See, that's what he does. I ask a serious question that matters to me and he says he doesn't care or doesn't know or doesn't think it matters. And he won't think about it and eventually answer. He'll just straight up refuse to answer, and that's that.

And it does matter because, well, you know... I'm not shallow. I'm not petty. I don't care about looks, and if you look through my photo albums you'll definitely notice that. But I like to think that the man I'll marry at least thinks I'm pretty. Because, you know, I spend time on myself trying to be attractive for him. And it's bad enough we never have sex. But to think he doesn't even think about my looks, like, at all... hey. It hurts.

Then I thought to myself, Tom would answer that without BS'ing around. Tom always gives me straight answers to questions. Tom takes me seriously, generally speaking. Often, too seriously. But once in a while I like to be taken seriously. It's hard to play the clown all the time. See sidebar.

Haven't spoken to him. I imagine he's buried in work. I miss him, but don't want to bother him, especially if he's occupied with school. He's not thinking of me. It would be rude to interfere in his life. I wish someone thought I was pretty. He thought I was, once, and I saw myself reflected in his eyes, and it was nice. And now that that's gone... well... take the silver from a mirror, and even the czar won't see his face.

2009-09-18T09:59:00.002-05:00

Been a while, hasn't it?

Or maybe it hasn't. Time stands still when nothing changes. After all, tme is a measure of time.

I keep meaning to get on. Blog about those little tidbits of my life that make it seem to matter. But they really don't, so I can't.

I'm trying to stock up on karma right now. Good karma. This ranges from giving customers a ride home because they missed the bus to meeting with the Mormon missionaries once a week to give them a reprieve from getting doors slammed in their faces. I guess what I really want is to feel some sort of worth, and for a split second sometimes I see it in their eyes. I've become much more helpful of late.

Let's see, other news.

I cleaned the apartment, and the car. I need to go through my clothes and give about half away. I need to sell that desk in the bedroom I'm not using.

Shamus ripped up one of my old journals.

The bank charged me 6 overdraft fees, totaling about 230 dollars. So basically I just handed over a paycheck to the bank. I'm going to complain. Can't afford it. If I have to pay that, we'll barely make our rent and it'll be another month of worry and close calls. No more money for booze. Two weeks sober... ugghh.

Tom friended me on FaceBook. Why? I don't know. His message with the request said: "Because you still try." Try what? The only time I ever talk to him anymore is drunk, or really angry. I'm not trying anything. I'm not trying to quit, I'm not trying to calm down. I'm a horrible person. So then I thought: Devon. He must have been talking with Dev, or one of the others, and he can't tell the difference. This is another one of Devon's clever cons. So I've been calling and calling, trying to find out what Tom meant by "trying," and he's not talking to me. So I just accepted the fucking request. He'll just get mad and de-friend me again. I felt cheap, and weak, like I had given in. It took me two days to accept that friend request and now that I have, I wish I hadn't. But I couldn't help it. I miss him. I miss everyone, and everything. The only thing left is a sense of panic somewhere deep in my chest.

I called Hope and asked if she wanted to hang out, go shopping at the mall. And she was all, "Sure." Then about two or three hours prior to meeting, she calls me and says she's got her monthly and feels too sick to hang out. Okay, fair enough. Not her fault. I offer to come down and we can just watch a movie and order Chinese, and she says she feels so sick that she couldn't even make it through a movie, but if I want to come down, we can hang out for maybe a half-hour, an hour at most. But then, at about the same time I should have been meeting her, she calls me and says Mandy wants to see me and Ben, so let's go with the original plan and meet at the mall.

At which point I was so pissed off I canceled the whole thing myself. So her "sickness" just cures itself if Mandy wants to come along? So she can suck it up for Mandy, but not me?

I wasn't sure if it was intentional, you know, making it seem like Mandy's worth it and I'm not, so I consulted my best friend at work, Colleen. Colleen thinks it was completely intentional. She actually has social skills, so I'm inclined to believe her. I wonder if Hope and Mandy still went. Haven't heard a peep from either one so there's no knowing. No one ever bothers calling me. For that matter no one bothers to pick up the phone for me anymore. But then again, I am pretty depressing.

You know what I don't think they get is what it's like to feel fear, or despair. I'm starting to feel like Devon. Devon, you know, can only feel that. No happiness or love, which is sort of sad if you think about it. Then again, he doesn't know what he's missing. But why hasn't he picked up this slack? Have I filled him to the brim, and I'm getting overflow?

The feeling of fear is primal. I get where the expression "spineless" comes from, because it melts your spine in your back, makes it like wax, until you feel weak and immaterial; and the hairs prickle on the back of your neck and your knees threaten to fail you, you can nearly feel your pupils dialate, your senses heightened in these last moments, your muscles infused with lead, ready to fight even while you can barely stand, and your mouth is metallic, and you feel your melted-wax spine will surely rip right out the back of your back if you don't flee, sprint, run far away from the source of the danger.

And then despair. Quite the opposite. Learned, not ingrained. A feeling of heaviness. Weight. Not the strong lead-fight feeling, but almost like exhaustion. Every step feels like going up a steep incline, and you're aware that the world around you moves much faster, but you can't bring yourself to lift those heavy foot-weights any higher or faster. Your shoulders sag with the weight of air and every breath of the stuff is something like suffocating; you're treading water but it's getting heavier, harder to hold, and soon your mouth and nose will slip under. Time seems to move slow but every time you look at a clock you're surprised at how it moves around you like dandelion seeds in the wind. You're trapped in an eternity, a very fast one, a heavy one, and the effort involved in contracting your diaphragm, lifting your feet, and blinking your eyes is a Herculean effort.

My life is mostly the latter with quick, sudden bursts of the former.

Yet unlike Devon, I don't have enough anger to keep me going. Devon thrives on anger. It overrides fear, shame, despair, hate, jealousy, suspicion, and betrayal to move him. I feel angry less and less. When Hope left me that message, I felt a pit. It was like the air I breathed formed a lump in my throat and descended to my stomach, settled there and began to grow, one leaf folding over at a time, the way a cabbage or artichoke does. This is despair, tainted with disappointment, an aftertaste of confusion.

When I saw the overdraft fees on my bank account, I felt my spine melt, my muscles tighten, my gullet jump. This is fear, seasoned with worry, topped with a light sprinkling of shock.

I'll go to work now and it will be like always, treading water. I'll try to call Tom later, and he won't answer. If he does, it will be inconsequential. I'll complain to the bank, and likewise, it will be inconsequential. I'll plod through the day, a workhorse plowing invisible paths on the thin department store carpet, and weeks from now, I'll hardly remember any of this, having moved on to the newer, fresher despair of the here and now.

2009-09-02T10:25:00.004-05:00

Last night I had strange dreams... I was in these old mansions, one was my friend Angie's but the other I've never seen before but I swear I have. I think I was dead, or at least not alive, because I remember all I could drink was wine. I met some guy online and asked him to come dominate me, and he drove three hours to do it... I remember being naked, having him tickle my chest, tell me I was good, all that jazz... and when he got on top of me I could feel his weight and warmth... it was great... but then the dream fast-forwarded and suddenly I was in the kitchen with someone else, anxious, and the phone was ringing, and I had this idea that someone somewhere was dying and I cared about them... and then I woke up.

I tried to tell Ben about my dream but since I mostly focused on the dom/sub part, he wasn't too interested.

Yesterday the car ran out of gas. We have seven dollars between the two of us. I wish I had a friend to borrow gas money from. Or a credit card, to charge it. I hope I can make it to Friday. I hope I can afford to eat after putting $4 of gas in there.

I had something else to say but I forget.

Tom hasn't replied to the message I sent him. Undoubtedly because 1) he's too pissed off, b) he's decided I'm not worth the trouble and given up on me.

For some reason I always thought Ben would give up first. Yesterday night, Ben shook me awake and asked what days I have off, so that maybe we could go walking downtown, just to be together. Then he popped a piece of chocolate in my mouth and let me go back to sleep.

The nice thing about being a stray is the total lack of responsibility. I could care less if I disappoint anyone or embarrass myself, which is honestly a huge load off my shoulders, because previously, most of my thoughts revolved madly around that. Now, my thoughts revolve madly around survival. I've been kicked back into a primitive survival mode where food, sleep, and safety are my primary concerns. I don't have time to bother with other shit right now. While not fulfilling, it's certainly easier. I don't think anyone appreciates how much effort it takes to write anymore. I'm just no longer interested in my blog. My blog is about my life and my life is pointless. It's no longer funny or amusing. I have no real interest in it. I don't know why I continue, except I feel like I lost all my friends because of this blog and if I were to stop now, I'd be quitting, or losing them for nothing. I don't know.

Sometimes I imagine that someday Tom would show up and just... ask me to stop. I've been gathering inertia for a while now, but no one I know cares enough to try to stop me... or even to tell me they care. That's the rub of it. Only Ben worries about me, and I love Ben, and he and the dogs are the primary reason I haven't quit working, because I support them. Otherwise I would leave.

It's a far-fetched fantasy and I don't like to dwell on it much. Thinking about it just causes more regret. Tom's as likely to appear at my window as Adrien. Hell, Hope has a better chance, and that's after all the shit I said about her the trouble I caused for her. I think what I've done is unforgivable now. I don't think we can ever repair it, like when I called Adrien and he said he'd call back but didn't bother. And if lets lets go, I have to too. I have a toxic touch to me, you know. I dip my finger in and you can almost see it spreading.

And besides, my life isn't some A&E drama where I'll get hauled off to AA meetings by my concerned and loyal friends. Well, maybe if this was London, or Chicago. But not here. Here, I can waste away to my heart's content and there won't be any crying, begging, angry confrontations, or heartfelt confessions. Only this mantra:

"You are broken. You fucked up. You don't deserve to live."

Because if I did, they would put in that effort, right? If I mattered, if I had worth. They would do it for each other. Not for me. I ruined it for myself. Got myself expelled from the pack. Now how often does that happen?

Like I said,

toxic touch.

Day ?????: Deficit

2009-08-30T19:57:00.004-05:00

Dogs need de-fleaed.

Frontline for small dogs: ~40/50
Frontline for medium dogs: ~30/40

We can't help them until Friday, when my check comes in. I have bites all over. Shamus is developing a rash. I give them bathes, and I rub lotion on their bites.

I need to make a payment on my student loan.

~ 50

The check engine light just came on.

The tires need changed (~15/tire).

Running low on vodka, and Ben's hid my wine.

Both our phones broke. Mine will cost between 50 and 100 to fix.

I miss Tom.

At work my heart flutters, like a moth beating against the glass separating it from the flame it would fly into and die given the change. I need medicine. The weather's getting cooler. My insurance canceled; we have to pay for birth control now out of the pocket (~30/month). We can't afford anything else.

This month, we ended at 700. Rent is 690.

I'm scared, and lonely.

I had a panic attack at work when a group of teenagers burst through the door as we were closing. Turns out they were just passing through.

I want to be held.

I'm scared.

Day ?????: For the Better

2009-08-27T20:43:00.002-05:00

So last night Hope and I went out.

We patched things up.

I got to drinking, and ended up plastered. Some 40-yr-old guy bought me a pitcher of Jack and coke. Hope took me to Tom's (?) where I thoroughly embarrassed myself and puked a lot. Fortunately I no longer care about my dignity.

At least, not with Tom. I mean, let's face it, Tom already disliked me after the last time I called him. So what if I puked on myself. He doesn't like me terribly anyway, and I don't remember it very clearly, so I won't worry about it.

I drove myself home around six after waking up on his floor. Tried to duck out without saying hi. Went to work but came home early because my heart was doing that painful fluttery thing it does when I don't eat.

Both Ben and I's phones broke so no one can contact us. I'm glad for it. I know Tom would call me and be all, "I'm about a hair's breadth of wiping my hands of you," and I don't feel like dealing with it. It's not like I'm being an intentional alcoholic to piss him off. It's more like, I'm trying desperately not too think too soberly about my life, lest I jump off a really tall building, and he just always ends up in the drunken crossfire.

In other news I'm not going to school this fall and my parents are, as usual, terribly disappointed with me, and the dogs are infested with fleas. Soon as our next paycheck we're going to town with the flea dips and powders.

I ache.

Day 17: Past the Worst of It

2009-08-21T23:07:00.005-05:00

Dear Blog,

Today I ate: an egg, a tomato, a bell pepper, and half of a can of spaghetti-O's. I was feeling better than yesterday and I kept it all down.

Last night I dreamed: of being chewed out by my parents. Beats the last three nights of Tom-oriented dreams. Way to be an asshole, subconscious.

My current gripe is: nothing. Feelin' okay.

I'm especially pissed at: nothing.

But on the bright side: no bright side. Still working. Feel numb, dizzy, a little bit high in a shaky way I can't explain. Very tired and cold. Still around. Not sure why I bother updating. You took all my friends from me, blog. No, it wasn't you, was it? It was me. I should have never bothered.

Something funny that happened to me was: I went to dinner with my parents. They were cordial. Not nice, necessarily. But cordial. Even asked about Ben. Asked about my long term goals. No idea. I realized today I don't have any anymore. I want to pay off my debts. That's it. Really. That and be with my dogs. Get a Webkinz trophy. No more plans. No more future. No more...

And as a side note,: no side note. Too tired.

See ya later!

Day Eleven: Good News?

2009-08-16T08:14:00.002-05:00

Dear Blog,

Today I ate: nothing yet. But yesterday I had 10 mg of Valium for lunch and work has never been better.

Last night I dreamed: nothing that I can remember.

My current gripe is: this house is a fucking mess. Seriously, it looks like shit. I have Monday and Tuesday off and I'm going to clean it. I hate living like trash and despite the lack of vacuum cleaner and book shelves, I will clean off the counter and get the carpet tidied. So my list of things to do includes:

-getting Carlisle licensed.
-getting a crate for Carlisle, and another harness for Shamus, who just broke his old one.
-tidying the damn house.
-balancing the checkbooks.

I'm especially pissed at: nothing. I don't really feel mad. I feel mostly empty and tired. But not angry. A good sign?

But on the bright side: I got a C in my class. Not bad, I guess, considering I can't actually eat anymore and am probably developing anorexia or something. It's passing anyway. I know it'll disappoint my parents, but at least I didn't fail, and it's over. I feel relieved. I'm not sure I want to go back to school. Too much responsibility and I'm too tired.

Something funny that happened to me was: I have been forgetting/missing a lot of my birth control, and my body freaked out and decided to start menstruating yesterday, even though I'm not due for my period for another two weeks. When I went to the bathroom and saw blood, my first thought was, "Oh God, I'm miscarrying again." Then I remembered you have to have sex and get pregnant to do that, unless I just miscarried baby Jesus, and then I think I'm definitely going to hell.

And as a side note,: last night Anne, K Hoffman, and I went out to the American Alehouse and had some drinks. It was fun. We just talked for a few hours and drank and I felt normal. How many calories are in mixed drinks? I think I might be sustaining myself on pure alcohol, which is actually sort of cool. I could definitely write a paper on that.

See ya later!

Day Nine: No Longer Drunk

2009-08-14T01:07:00.003-05:00

Dear Blog,

Today I ate: a glass of soy milk and a sandwich Ben made me, which I just threw up. Yummy.

Last night I dreamed: that Tom gave me a bath and I got hypothermia.

My current gripe is: the stupid dog who refuses to pee outside. It's not that hard, you God damned puppy. Why do you insist on coming inside before peeing? God.

I'm especially pissed at: the fact that I have a test in 7 hours and instead of studying am blogging because my life feels like a desolate void, bereft of hope. Called Tom, drunk. Babbled. Tried to communicate, once again, my retarded and unexplainable love for him. Knew the whole thing was going downhill when, after ten or fifteen minutes in, he said, "Is this about the dom/sub thing?" No, it's about grilled cheese sandwiches. Of course it's about that, stupid! What else would I be babbling about? Anyway I've concluded there are no right words. No matter what I say, he won't want me. Possibly because I'm a bad sub. Possibly because, as he pointed out, in this culture you can't get a girlfriend if you have a sub. Well, I'd argue that, but whatever. The important thing is

Okay, so I just threw up! I think that signals the end of that particular rant.

But on the bright side: soon it will be over and I can return to pining.

Something funny that happened to me was: nothing. Sorry, don't feel like coming up with something cute right now. Too miserable and tired. Tom's probably sleeping. *sulk* He doesn't yet seem to be fed up with me, but I also don't think he fully appreciates the amount of creepy obsessiveness I'm developing. Well, I think as long as I don't go after him and Simone with an ax, we'll be on good terms. (Wait, that's it! An ax! Brilliant!) (Disclaimer, in case they get killed by an ax: wasn't me. Previous parenthesized note was merely a joke.) It hurts so badly, blog. It isn't fair. Why do I feel like this? What's the point of feeling so shitty and being helpless to fix it? I just want to be cuddled again. As usual, I'm going to go ahead and hate Hope a bit. Hi, Hope. Had fun dating Tom? Had fun kissing Tom? Glad one of us did. Don't know why you're so God damned special. Aw, heck. I'm just being angry with you for the sake of being angry with someone. Let's face it: you, Adrien, Mandy, all of you... you don't deserve my anger. No matter how hurt I am, it's probably my fault. I'm sorry none of us are friends anymore, but I knew it would happen eventually. I'm too crazy for friends. How much longer before Tom abandons me too? Has he already? He was my Master, and now he's not. He gave me up. My own Master didn't want me anymore. Yeah. I guess. Well, that's a damn depressing thought.

And as a side note,: I want to kill myself, but lack the balls.

See ya later!

Day 5: To the Dogs

2009-08-10T17:36:00.003-05:00

Well, I got Carlisle, the new dog, home safely.

Of course I arrived a day late and missed work. Bad, bad.

And I discovered he's not at all leash trained, which I did by taking him to a stop area, where he wiggled out of his collar and ran off, nearly getting hit a dozen times. Took the whole station of people to round him up, and when he was finally caught, he bit the guy and pissed himself.

I dumped him in the car and cried out of relief that I hadn't lost him, and embarrassment at how he'd acted.

But a few miles down the road I felt strangely compassionate.

Carlisle is less than a year old, still a puppy in my book. He's scared. He doesn't know who I am, or if I was trying to catch him to harm him. The truth is, I've been scared enough to bite people and piss myself too.

Shamus and Carlisle are two opposites on a spectrum here, and both of them I relate to. Shamus is confident, enthusiastic, and endlessly amused by his environment. Carlisle is suspicious, guarded, fearful, and distrustful. I don't know why. I think he just wasn't socialized properly. That, and he hasn't yet bonded to me.

You see, people always peg dogs as these faithful, loyal, loving creatures. Which they are, provided you're their friend. But if you hurt your dog, or your dog doesn't trust you, then you can go to hell. Dogs that "turn" do so out of fear.

I like dogs because I understand dogs. I know why Shamus is happy and why Carlisle cringes when I touch him. He needs time, and patience. If I was a psychology major, I swear, I could write a book on how dog psychology is just like human psychology. Well, like my psychology, anyway. It's sort of funny that I have my own pack but no one wants me, isn't it?

Anyway I need to rest. More on my trip later.

Also, luckily, the dogs love each other.

Day 3: Second Wind

2009-08-08T08:37:00.003-05:00

Surprisingly I don't feel bad.

This has a lot to do with delirium, I think. I can't eat and haven't slept more than a five hour stretch.

But I feel good.

In news:

Yesterday I took my little sister and her friend to the circus. Fire twirlers. Ah. I should type up a description and add it to one of my stories. 'Course all my stories are either to the wind or stored on a virus-ridden computer, so eh. I added fire twirling to my bucket list. I have a page and a half of things to do before I die, and you know, I've only done a few and I think I won't get it done. Don't have the money, time, or wherewithal.

Going to pick up Carlisle tonight. Yay.

Added a new song to my blog playlist. It's on the Macy's soundtrack but I like it. Also considered adding "Almost Honest" by Josh Kelley, but that has nothing really to do with me. I just like the song. And most of the ones I have are sort of more personal. I hear "Almost Honest" daily at Macy's, and just because I like it doesn't mean I should start adding it to my blog.

There's like two more I do plan on adding (it's a surprise!) but I tell you, I'm no good at technology and since my playlist is supported on another site, it takes me about a half hour to add each track.

Since my blog has become emo and generic, from this point on all posts will be in the following format:

Dear Blog,

Today I ate:

Last night I dreamed:

My current gripe is:

I'm especially pissed at:

But on the bright side:

Something funny that happened to me was:

And as a side note,:

See ya later!

Day 1: Grendel

2009-08-06T10:01:00.004-05:00

Hi, blog. It's me again. It's actually a nice day out today.

Dear God: Sorry about the post last night. I was drunk, and... well, you know. Anyway, just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. No hard feelings, right?

So I drunk-dialed Tom and... hm, don't remember that too well, actually. I do recall he was going to call me back and I stayed up waiting and he never did, but that's okay. I should be in class right now.

You know, it's like, here's a bad analogy: it's like I lived in a cave and Ben finally gave me permission to go see the sun, and then I went out and it was cloudy and I found out it would be cold and cloudy and drizzly for the rest of my life, just like in the cave.

So I told Ben and he didn't really react at all or offer any inspirational words. He made me a bowl of tomato soup but it was like WAY too thick, so he put some water in it and I had some. It's like going back all over again, me sick and eating tomato soup. You know, like when my jaw was broken. People rail on Ben a lot but no one gives him credit where credit is due: he's good in a crisis and good at taking care of people.

I think what I'm going to do is give my phone to Ben. That way I can take calls but I won't be able to drunk-dial Tom anymore. No sense beating a dead horse.

My new long-term goals involve getting up in the morning and... actually that's about it.

No way I'm finding any new Masters. I have trust issues. I don't even trust my Masters that well. I do trust him, sort of. Not really. But I distrust him less than normal people.

But the problem here is I still think of him as such. He is not my Master; he doesn't want me; I'm undesirable and unlovable. I keep reminding myself that. He doesn't want me. Can't make him want me. Just going to be happy with what I have and hopefully... I don't know.

I don't feel like living very much right now, but I don't really hurt. I feel really numb and empty. Ben and Shamus need me. I'm going to keep going for them until I can't go anymore. And when I stop, I stop. I can't actively change anything. On the other hand I'm too sick to eat and your average healthy person lasts thirty days without food. (Not that I'm average, or healthy.) Also I do eat some, just not a lot because I keep throwing up.

So there you have it, blog. I literally have no friends (except Ben), and no Masters (making me a stray), and nothing else. Funny to get so caught up on one little thing. But it's my life. I need to be wanted to survive. Crazy? Sure. Well, I am crazy.

So I'm just going to keep going but I don't feel all that motivated and I'm more or less banking on the idea that I'm going to wither up soon. Then it won't matter. And no one can feel bad about it, either. Sickness isn't anyone's fault. If anything, they can blame the booze. But I might quit drinking. I feel okay numb and if I drink I start feeling again and it hurts and I cry a lot. Very unattractive. I feel like I'm ranting now. What was the point of this post?

Point: I drunk-dial Tom too much. I feel bad, sort of. Actually I don't. But let's pretend I do. Tom doesn't want me. No one wants me. I am a stray. I am friendless. I am Grendel.

I'm going to keep going because that's all I know how to do, until I can't go anymore. Then I'll go quietly and so help me God, no more drama anymore. From this day forth I am drama free. Severing all connections. I will not call anyone, nor answer calls, unless from Tom or my immediate family. If it gets bad I can just hang up. I will do this gracefully. I am a rock, and that rock is Grendel.

2009-08-05T19:12:00.002-05:00

Dear God,

Why do you let me feel this way if you KNOW it's going to turn out badly? Why the hell would you let this happen? Don't you care about me? You're the ONE person who's supposed to love me. Please, make it not hurt anymore. Let me forget all this. Let me die. Please.

Love,
Julie

PS: Make me stop crying. Amen.

PPS: Sorry to seem demanding, but this is just total bullshit.

Dark (4)

2009-08-05T17:39:00.002-05:00

Okay, so.

I was smart enough to curb all my happiness before I made the phone call.

Unfortunately I wasn't smart enough not to get excited about seeing Tom tonight. So I called and he was in Bedford. I was already freshly washed and deciding on what to wear. Also he canceled on the roadtrip so I'm going it alone.

Anyway the short and short is that I babbled until I was frothing at the mouth, and then he said no. Not because of Simone. Anyway I'm glad for her, I guess. Jealous, yeah, totally, but you know, good for her, rah.

No, seriously, I'm so jealous. But at the same time, she has his affection, which is like... how can you be mad at someone for winning a million dollars? Do you wish it was you? Yeah, of course. But at the same time you have to admit... I don't know where I'm going with this. I might stop blogging. No point.

So I'm back where I started, which is okay too. I ran out of booze today but did manage to eat some. Actually in the past two days I only threw up once, when I ate those Saltines, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

My current goal is to waste away before this gets awkward. I tried and Tom was very gentlemanly and very graciously turned me down. Pursuing anything would make me psycho(er). I plan on executing the same sort of elegance and being emotionally and spiritually strong. I haven't cried at all even though I feel like it, which I take for a very good sign. I don't want his pity. I don't want anyone to feel bad for me. I want to get sick quickly and quietly, and go away before anyone notices and it's too late. I thought very very briefly about finding someone else, but I can't. Emotionally, I can't. I've already mentally dedicated myself to Tom, and since I'm being all mature and retarded about this, I can't force him and I'm going to detach myself.

I am a rock.

I am an island.

I am a great stalwart, whatever that is.

Also, he had to go to call Michelle, who's coming to visit. Hi, Michelle. I'm glad you have the gas to go to Bedford, but not to visit me. I'm not actually mad at you. Just very lonely and miserable. All the same, fuck you, and have fun visiting Tom.

My new manager's name is Tom. When I heard it I doubled over and he asked what was wrong and I said nothing. I feel sick every time I see his nametag or hear his name on the speaker. I might quit. I don't know. Fuck. Rock. Island. Rock. Rock. Rock.

Is It Getting Dimmer? I think I See a Glimmer...

2009-08-04T21:16:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I came home. I got drunk.

I didn't call Tom, and was proud of myself.

Ben called me as he was walking home and we had a very serious discussion. Because he knows I'm not happy.

And he said, "You know, I know I spend a lot of time on the computer and stuff, and... well... I guess we should compromise and if you want you can have a Master."

I squealed. He cut me off. "But only if it's nonsexual." [We went over nearly everything that was and wasn't acceptable. You sort of have to on something like this. Example: nudity is okay, but deep, prolonged kissing is not.]

And I didn't even bring it up. He's just seen how I am and he knew what I needed and agreed maybe it would be better for our relationship. It's been putting a lot of strain on us, to be honest.

Well, anyway, I picked him up because our phones kept dropping the calls and we had a long discussion about boundaries and stuff. And without thinking I blurted, "Can it be Tom?"

"Whoever makes you happy," he said.

My heart is full to bursting. Ben and I talked for hours and then had really passionate sex (yay). I'm so glad. But not out of the woods yet.

First of all, while Ben's agreed to let me have a Master, who may or may not be Tom, Tom hasn't agreed to anything. Nor does he have to.

I hope to take him out tomorrow and ask him. And then I want Ben and Tom to talk. (Ben agreed that it would be a good idea, but I'm not sure Tom will feel the same way.)

Also there's... *sigh* Simone. I don't know her. I don't like her. But, as much as I hate to do it, I do have to take her feelings into consideration. If Tom loves her, I can't get between them. God, it hurts, but what can I do? It wouldn't be fair of me to mess this up for them. If they have a good thing going and there's no room in the picture for me, well... c'est la vie. How can I expect her to get it? Ben doesn't get it. For that matter, I'm not sure Tom gets it. Just because you have a naturally assertive personality that would make you a good Dom doesn't mean you are a good Dom, or even a regular Dom at all. You know?

But the thing is, I don't care to have anyone else. I don't want to just find some yokel off the street.

Am I being crazy? I feel like this could work, but so much of it is dependent on other people. And I'm nothing if not paranoid about the intentions of others.

I thought about talking to Tom about all this on the roadtrip this weekend, but:

1) I don't want to ruin it. If he says no tomorrow, there'll be no hard feelings. If he said no on a 32-hr roadtrip, it might feel awkward.

2) I'm too excited and can't wait. I feel like I actually have a chance at happiness.

I really do. Me, happy! I've been so heartsick for so long. Today I ate a packet of Saltines and three potato chunks out of my soup and then I puked.

I feel like maybe I'll be okay. I love Ben so much. I feel so close to him right now. I hope, I hope, I hope this will be okay. I hope. I can't wait to see Tom tomorrow. And tell him the good news. Oh, I really am happy, for the first time in a long time. I didn't realize even how unhappy I was. But now maybe Tom and I are on the mend and Ben and I are finally reaching the point where we can talk about things and agree on things and... ee...

Mustn't get my hopes up, though. I'm setting myself up for a big disappointment. So I have to be realistic and not be too happy.

Taught Shamus a new trick. He can now sit and lay down. We're working on "shake," but he keeps laying down instead of giving me his paw. Also, he has fleas. Got him a flea collar and comb, but I found two bites on my wrist this morning.

Love Hurts Sometimes, If You Do It Right

2009-08-02T20:13:00.005-05:00

I drove to Altoona on Friday.

I got off work at ten-thirty, went home to grab some booze, and then hit the road. It was heavy fog; so heavy you could only see about thirty feet in front and then thirty behind. It was eerie, and there seemed to be no one else on the highway, though there might have been and I just didn't know it. There were occasional breaks, but as I was in the mountains, I kept hitting clouds and then everything except my car and me would disappear again.

As I came into Altoona, I felt... homesick, I guess. The highways running through the town make it seem bigger than it is. I was reminded of the outskirts of London, or the part of Chicago that surrounds O'Hare. And admittedly I missed Altoona. I miss my home with the green walls and the melted clock hung on them.

So I went to Tom's. And I was thinking, this time. This time, so help me God, I will say the right thing. I will tell him it all:

I love him.

I think of him, and even as I type this, it hurts. My heart hurts, physically. Like there's something pressing down on it. This pressure spreads. Its cobweblike fingers enter my veins and sweep through my gut, making me sick, and my limbs, until I feel sick and shaky and weak.

I miss him.

I wish he had kissed me. He should have.

I'm sorry.

I wish I hadn't been so paranoid. I wish I could trust him more, but I can't.

All this and a million other things.

But I couldn't just kick in the door and say that. So I walked in and I told him about this great blog I found online, Stranger than Eviction, while he chuckled and oiled some tools.

And then Simone called.

At first I thought it was Hope.

I sat there on the couch, pounding back beers. I'd driven there relatively sober (not quite three martinis), but when I mix I really get drunk.

And he spoke to her. His voice and his face softened. I got tired and laid down. I think I drifted in and out. But I could still hear his voice. Every word of it, crystal clear, filtered down to me like sunbeams through clear water. Oh, God help me.

He loves her.

Softly, tenderly, he told her everything I'd come to say to him: how he loved her, how she made him feel more "him," how he felt lucky to have her...

Sickness came over me. Anger. Suddenly I heard a million other voices there, each with there own critique of the whole situation:

"I told you! You're not worth it!"

"Calm down, it's okay, let him talk, shhh."

"Don't listen to him!"

"Leave! Leave!"

"Stay! Stay!"

"Bitch."

So I panicked and decided to leave.

I stumbled to the car completely wasted, fully intent on driving into a tree.

Then I heard it, softly, "I'm sorry."

And my legs came out from under me.

I sat there in the gravel alley beside his house and I sobbed. I mean, the noises coming out of me weren't even human. It sounded like an animal being eviscerated. There were hardly any tears, just this ripping... I can't even describe it.

And then the same voice, in my head, soothing, telling me not to go. Telling me it wouldn't let me. And then more voices:

"I don't want to die."

"It's not worth it."

"He wouldn't want you to."

And one:

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Absolutely frantic.

I got up after a while and turned and then turned back, and the same thing happened. It was like there was a forcefield around my car. So I went back in. I think Tom was still on the phone, but I can't recall. I threw my keys at him and swore at him for letting me drive drunk. (Or at least, trying to.)

He mustn't really care then, right? How much can you care for someone if you let them do that? I'll stop complete strangers... anyway, I'm not done with my story. Maybe he wants me to die, but doesn't want anything to do with it. A car crash would look pretty innocent and then he'd be rid of me.

Alright, my story.

So I lay down again and Tom finally shut up after over an hour, and then was like, "You wouldn't even give me an hour on the phone with my girl?"

Well, I think it's rude to talk for an hour to anyone on the phone when you have a guest over, unless it's an emergency or something.

And aside from that, I obviously wanted to talk, and I'd obviously been pounding back bottles.

And I can't think now if I cried now or not; I don't remember if I did, though I should have, and I told him I'd come there to tell him I loved him. But it came out all wrong. Rushed. Embarrassed. Weak.

And I was so scared.

Not sure how we got here, but suddenly he was petting me again. Oh, it was good.

Not, physically, as good as Ben. But emotionally it was like climax. My back, my side, my hair especially; he scratched me, told me what a good girl I was. Told me to thank my Master (I did).

I was aware he could have killed me. There it was, my torso exposed. I mean, not literally, I was clothed; but what was stopping him from ripping me to pieces, tearing out my spleen, my liver, my kidneys, my heart? With his hands, or teeth, or tools...?

I felt perfectly vulnerable and perfectly safe. He could kill me; he might kill me. But I didn't care. Let me be killed under his hands; let me die now, happy. So happy.

I took his hand.

I asked to sleep in his bed.

He said if I was good. But then when we got up he said I couldn't; people (SIMONE) wouldn't understand. No, she probably wouldn't. He went to bed. I hung nervously around the door. I wanted so badly to be held. To be wanted. And yes, admittedly, to be kissed. Just once.

Then I left.

I was so tired the road back was doubled. I kept closing one eye, as the guardrail multiplied and the lines wiggled around like snakes. The morning was much like the night; complete fog. No visibility at all.

The next day he texted me: "You are one of me and mine."

Oh, shut up.

Shut up.

I'm not you. And I'm not yours. You've made that clear. I'm repulsive, aren't i?

I called Michelle to tell her what was going on and then I just felt sick all over again. I though about when we went to the Renaissance fair, how she and him kissed beneath the little white trellis, and how he bought her a little flower... stupid, but... well, yes, stupid.

I can't say I'm jealous, really. It just hurts. It hurts to think of the opportunity she had. The experience. So it didn't work out; so what? If me and him dated, it wouldn't either. But the memory, the feel of his lips... these things I crave so badly that he gave so readily to her. And to Hope. And now undoubtedly to Simone. It hurts. I keep saying that, but how else can I communicate this constant pressure? I just want to be loved, wanted, desired, cherished... because I can't just un-love someone. I never fall out of love. I do love Ben, still; I always will love Ben. And I'll always love Tom, as my Master. I want him to use me. And he won't.

And the worst part of it all is, he loves Simone. The tone of his voice! I can't ruin this for him. I can't be willing to trash his relationship for myself. It's selfish. It's wrong. I don't even know Simone and I hate her for stealing my chance, my one chance... well, who knows, maybe it wouldn't have mattered either way. But I can't hate her. It's just not right. And I don't want to be this ugly stain on Tom's happiness. I don't know how much of a nuisance I'm being. I'm scared. I feel alone and abandoned and petrified.

I thought Tom would appreciate my actions. It was a courageous thing to do, if I do say so myself. One of the scariest things I ever did. Took me an hour, a quarter tank of gas, a night's sleep. Also, I lied to Ben about where I was going. I hate lying. I feel so guilty.

But other than acknowledging it was brave... what was the point?

I laid my whole being on the line. And he looked at it, and told it he couldn't have it in his bed. I gave him everything. I told him... I hope he understood this longing. I don't want to sound like a crazy stalker person. If he tells me to go away, I will. I would disappear to the end of the earth for him if that's what he wanted. But I don't know what he wanted.

Courage is just another word for stupidity. I was brave, and reckless. I took a lot of risk. for what? Nothing.

Nothing.

I feel scared now, and giddy. Like a cornered animal. I can't stop giggling. I feel high, like I'm in love, and still my heart pushes. This pressure... sometimes I lean on the counters at Macy's and that helps some. I hurt so much and yet I don't feel like I'm in pain. I just feel... I can't explain. I feel my eyes well with tears and then I just start laughing again. Life is so ridiculous, and nothing like the movies. I miss my Master. I want to beg him. I want to please him. I want to obey him. And in return, I want to be cherished.

I asked Ben last night to tie me up and make me beg for it. He said, "You know I'm not into that."

I threw my collar in the trash.

I'm a stray.

Oh, God, I'm a stray. I'll end up like Bandit did, in the gutter, with my intestines besides me, flattened out, continuous with my skin and roasting warm on the summer pavement. Eyes eaten by flies. Only Bandit wasn't a stray. He had a collar.

Being collared doesn't guarantee anything. But it certainly helps your chances.

I don't want any more Masters. I can't. I already have three. One hurt me; one's hurting me now, only he doesn't know it and I'm not being bad (I think?), but it hurts anyway; and one just doesn't give a flying fuck. There's only one I think I can have now.

What if he says no? Definitive, final, "No."

I think I might really die then.

You can't die of pain. Or even despair.

But you can lose the will to live, and that definitely can.

I didn't know I could be so sick and feel so bad and still go to work every day.

I just want...

I don't know.

Like the song:

"Why not both instead?
There's the answer, if you've clever.
Have a baker for bread,
and a child for warmth,
and a prince... for... whatever."

I need my prince.

I need to stop listening to sad songs.

But they all remind me of him.

I need to go lay down now. :(

Go Eat Worms

2009-07-31T10:46:00.002-05:00

Went out with Tom last night and am pegging the whole thing as "unmitigated disaster."

See, I finished off the last of the booze in the house. So I was feeling buzzed and courageous enough to call him up and invite myself out. Anyway I wanted to apologize to him, since Devon's been on this rampage that involves seducing, fighting, and any other dirty tactic he can think of against all of my close friends, in an effort to piss Ben off enough to stop the wedding. Apparently he doesn't want to get married. Really? Devon? Unenthusiastic about something? (Sarcasm.)

Anyway I'd gotten calls from Jack and Mike earlier in the week and so I had a pretty good idea of what had gone on last time Tom and "me" went out.

And sober, I probably would have been too embarrassed to face him.

But tipsy me was aware that we haven't talked in like a month and even though I'm supposed to be mad at him, I'm not anymore. Actually every time I think of him I get this horrible twinge in my gut and sometimes in my heart too. I miss him so much and I miss the way we used to be.

So we went out. And three drinks later I was lost in one of my idiot fantasies where it would all be okay. You ever been at that stage where you're drunk enough to know what you need to say, but just not drunk to actually say it? I think one more would have put me over the edge, but Tom said no, and then started talking about his new girlfriend, Simone, and showed me a bikini picture of her being thin and beautiful, and that twinge came again and I felt so sick I thought I might just die.

So he took me home and I just wanted to say all these nasty things, but didn't, and I also wanted to scream, but didn't, and wanted to confess my undying love and beg... no, demand that we go back to the way we were, when I wasn't freaked out every time he touched me. (How he could rectify this, I don't know, but I was pretty sure if I only said the right words he could.)

But this is real life. And in real life I grabbed a six pick and dashed inside and fell and ripped half a toenail off, and then cried, and then ran back outside in this final moment of courage. And I got to the back of his truck, which was still parked, and heard him on the phone, and my first thought was, either it's Simone or it's Michelle and he's telling them what an insane alcoholic I am. Well, you'd be insane and an alcoholic too if your life sucked.

Courage failed me; I couldn't interrupt and I ran back inside and sobbed my heart out. I went out and sat on the stoop waiting for him to come to me, but I just didn't have the energy left to get up and go to him. By the time I worked up the courage to call and ask him to pick me up, he was back home, an hour away. But I was already working on my six pack, so I sent him about a thousand text messages and phone calls like the stupid, needy, wreck of a bitch I am. Then Ben came home and I was sobbing and he said, "Now what?" And I started crying harder and he end up on the computer while I went to bed hoping to die and knowing I wouldn't because... well, I just don't, do I?

So that was my night and I'm betting I really blew it. I'm not going to call anymore; I'm not going to contact him at all anymore; I can't. It hurts too much and I'm just making it worse for myself, and I'm only embarrassing myself. And if I hear him say Simone's name again I'll shoot myself in the head.

So there it is. Nobody likes me; only Tom is still my friend, in that he puts up with this, but I can't keep it up with him because it just hurts too much and even if I knew the right way to explain how much I pine for him, I can't conjure up the words and we'd just end up talking about Simone.

In other news, work sucks. The store is doing back. And I did shitty on my last test. If I get a C, I'll get a C; if I get a B, I'll probably get a C; if I get an A, I might be able to fanagle a B, but it's not enough for my parents and I don't care because I'll never get my degree and a piece of paper doesn't matter anyway because I'll still be miserable and unloved.

Fuck/

When It Rains, It Pours

2009-07-23T10:22:00.002-05:00

Supposed to be in class right now. Instead I'm at a computer lab on campus. Feeling a deep sense of ennui.

I'm poor, and in debt, and have no friends or sex life to speak of. I'm genuinely getting fed up. I can't take this but I don't know how to approach Ben about it.

Consequently I'm switching out more.

For example, on Monday Anne and I went to see Harry Potter. I saw the movie, got in my car to go home...

...and the next thing I know it's like nine in the morning and I'm at home wearing something different, mouth tasting like vomit and the pearl gone from my engagement ring.

Ben says he thinks it was Devon, and he was out all night, doing God only knows what.

He probably pawned my pearl.

We have to buy a new one now.

Fuck.

On the cheerier side of things (what cheery side?) I'm doing a wee bit better financially. Looking forward to picking up Carlisle in August.

Though I'm hanging out more with friends (like going over to Katie's, going over to K Hoffman's, going to the mall with Leela, going to the movies with Anne), I still feel really down.

The thing is, when I hang out with these people, I'm aware that we work together and if any of us quits tomorrow we'll stop being friends. Also, they don't know me. For all I know they're like my other friends, and the moment they discover my DID they'll hit the ground running. I've found I feel uncomfortable hanging out with them, trying too hard to be normal. Which undoubtedly makes me boring. And I'm not, but by being myself, I somehow sabotage all my meaningful relationships.

I mean, I'm the only consistent factor. Yeah. Adrien never called me back. Yeah, Tom and I haven't talked in three weeks, excluding the text he sent me. But it seems unlikely that the two of them are collaborating on ignoring me. Rather, I feel like there's something on my end pushing them away.

Am I too needy? How often do normal friends call each other? Is that figure subject to change?

Someone could make a lot of money writing a book about this for socially awkward people. I'd buy ten copies, one for each personality.

But wait! None of the others have problems making friends. Dylan, Devon, James, all of them have lots of buddies. Maybe it's just easier being a guy.

Lately I've been having lots of bad dreams. In my most recent, Ben and this insanely hot, ripped blonde guy had sex in some gym showers, and then I was like, "woo, threesome!" and Ben was like, "sorry, it's hard for guys to get it up again after having sex," and so I went back to my parents.

Actually rather true to life, except for the gay part, to my knowledge.

Seriously. Sexless life. So miserable. Ben's current average is once every three weeks, though right now he's on a streak. If he were a baseball player and his batting average was one home run every three weeks, he'd get fired, and replaced by a Japanese guy.

*head desk* I wouldn't be so miserable if I only have one problem, but friends AND sex? What I need is a friend with benefits. *head desk head desk*

Sick (85)

2009-07-19T08:02:00.003-05:00

Yay themed post.

I no longer have insurance.

It apparently terminates when I turn 21, unless I can prove I have a disability.

Nine people in the skull?

Totally not worth claiming.

Besides, they mostly fight FOR me.

You know the old joke about, if a person with MPD (sorry, now it's "DID," in the same way black people are now "African-American" but everyone still says black because who the fuck cares) threatens to kill themselves, is it a hostage situation?

That joke always actually sort of annoyed me.

Totally forget my train of thought.

Oh yeah. No insurance. And all my medications are about over 300. So I'll just go ahead and stop breathing, kthx.

In better news, yesterday Leela and I went to Altoona to visit the Macy's there, and tomorrow me and Anne are going to see Harry Potter.

Look! Me! Friends! Doing stuff without "friends!"

I DON'T NEED YOU.

My first test? Class average. Not bad.

Tire blew on the car and we had to get a new one. Bleh.

Got 5 Macy's accounts this week. Booyah. Too bad they don't provide (affordable) healthcare based on that.

Please pass some sort of socialized healthcare, please, Obama. So... poor... and... sick...

Tom called me a few nights ago. Invited me out for a drink.

Uh, okay, so.

I don't need you. I can dress myself pretty and get any asshole to buy me drinks. But I don't out of respect for the ring Ben gave me.

Plus I'm suspicious. You probably want to invite me out on a pretense of friendship that we clearly don't have, and then once I'm good and sloshed start in on me about being mean to Adrien or some suck shit.

(Fun fact: Adrien never called me back. THANKS, jerkface! I value our friendship too!)
Yeah, but who calls up someone they haven't talked to in two weeks like that?

Fuck you, good sir. Don't pretend everything is okay. It's not. If it were... I don't even know where to begin.

Are you sure you want to take someone out who's "unhinged?"

Why don't you invite Hope out?

I don't get it. Last time I called Tom anything he threatened to hit me and yelled at me a lot and we had a big row. And that wasn't "to" anyone. It was undirected anger. But Tom says I'm "unhinged" to my best friend and then pretends that's cool?

Maybe I should go call him out in front of all his closest friends and then threaten him and see how he likes it.

I think THEy "owe" ME an apology.

Fuck all of you.

Wrath (33): Omg, Themed Entries Are Back! Unlike All my Relationships! Suck My Diiiiiiiiick!

2009-07-08T08:26:00.005-05:00

So I just had myself a long shower and a lot of time to think, and I think it's time for another long, drawn-out post about my friends.

WARNING: here be juvenile drama.

The whole reason I was thinking of this...

see, back when I called Adrien like a week ago, we had the following exchange:

Me: I feel like there's some bad blood between us and I want to clear it up because I value our friendship, even though that's really corny.

Adrien: Well, [bunch of lies about calling me back so we could resolve it,] the thing is, you said a bunch of stuff about me and I feel I deserve an apology [or something of that nature].

So I was completely on board with it.

But whenever people accuse me of saying stuff about them, I start going over all I did say about them here on my blog. Ya see, I don't just do about bitching about people without good reason. Generally I say things because I have good reason to.

So here's what I recall saying about Adrien:

1) He was somewhat (ie, a complete and total) jackass by inviting Hope to NY (Hope, who had been gone over a year and only been back a few months) and not me.

OK, so maybe he just didn't want to invite Ben, because it would be awkward between him and Tom. Well, I wouldn't have come without Ben, so there you are, eh? Also, how freaking awful does he think we are? I can't speak for Tom, but neither Ben nor I would have let our respective feuds with Tom and Hope ruin Mandy's engagement. Sorry, we're just not that evil.

2) He's got zero follow-through.

As evidence by his not calling me back, ever.

3) He should have been more understanding of my problems.

Considering he was booted out of his house, my disowning should have been something he could relate to. Au contraire, bonjour, he didn't call me once in over four months to see how I was doing. Which was awful.

4) He was included in a long list of people I know who work retail, in which I suggested a trained monkey could do their jobs.

I stand by this. Retail is a ton of BS and I'm not even sure how he could have taken this personally. But since he was alluded to, I went ahead and included it on my list.

So there, I have four items. I think it's #1 he's mad about, but since I lost my clairvoyant abilities at age seven and he hasn't yet called me, I can't be sure.

A week ago I was totally on board with the whole "let's resolve this" thing.

Except now that I think about it, how come all these fights are the same?

Let's observe:

1) My friends fail epically in their friendship duties, which include but are not limited to, caring if I live or die, not inviting my personalities' ex-friends to their homes, being honest with me, and not taking sides in a feud that isn't any of their business.

2) I blog about it in my usual sarcastic, mean way.

3) They blow it out of proportion, seeming to think that, 1) I'm a total bitch who isn't upset, but slandering them out of pure vindictiveness, 2) everyone on the planet reads my blog and by suggesting anything bad about them, I've turned the whole world against them.

4) They stop talking to me, like mature adults.

5) I call, often drunk, in a weak attempt to resolve it that inevitably makes it worse.

6) They ignore me further and I blog about it. The cycle repeats.

So you see, really, we're all to blame here.

Hope, if you hadn't dropped off the face of the planet, maybe I wouldn't be so upset with you.

Tom, maybe if you weren't always taking Hope's side and being a self-righteous prick and sticking your nose into business that isn't yours, I wouldn't always be blogging about it. (Tom: BAAWWWW. Yeah, I know, if you just read that, you're mad now. You're probably saying that you don't stick your nose into business that isn't yours. Well let me just kindly remind you that the last time I called Hope, she went BAWWWWWing to you, you called me to threaten to end our friendship [oo, scary!], and then called Michelle, who is currently my best friend, and told her I was "unhinged." You want to talk about "slandering," boy-o? Then let's start with you calling me "unhinged" to my best friend. Ass.)

(Oh yeah and she doesn't need YOU telling her how crazy I am, because she reads my blog, stupid! She can see how fucking crazy I am without you!(

Conversely, if I didn't take it so personally, or had the self-control to keep it all inside me and just hate everyone secretly, they wouldn't get butthurt in the first place and we'd all still be pals, in the sense that they'd probably still be ignoring me. (Lol.)

So what I was thinking was, ok, I probably do owe Adrien an apology. I owe everyone that. But I seriously feel like I'm owed one too. Although, let's be honest, apologies don't change the past and they're just a BS token symbol (like CALLING YOUR FRIENDS).

Why do I always have to be the one to call them and apologize?

And since when was my adorable in-your-face attitude so offensive? Honestly, I think they're just searching for a reason to get pissed with me so we can stop being friends. (Which we all sort of already did, since they effectively broke off all communication with me.)

I actually forgot that I'm mad at Tom and not talking to him, which is why I called last week. But I am still mad at him for the whole cutesy "unhinged" remark, not to mention the blatant Hope propaganda.

The thing is, I keep thinking about how I used to feel for him. Last year was such a good time for me. I miss it, back when Tom was my best friend and Ben and I had a sex life and I don't have to work fulltime at Macy's pretending to give a shit about Alfred Dunner proportioned short pants™.

But then there was Val, and then Hope, and things just sort of crumbled.

I miss last summer, when Tom was going to Carolina and I was so upset, but at least he was leaving physically. It would have been so much better than this emotional severance. It's like losing a limb. And I don't think my "friends" understand how tough it is for me. They, after all, have other friends. I don't. And at the risk of pissing everyone off again (as if I haven't already! lol), I think I tend to forge much deeper connections. After all, this explains why I get butthurt more easily, PLUS, it explains why I can't let go and they can.'

My question to you: was it worth it? Hope, Val? Did you guys get all the closure you needed at the expense of my relationship with him? Well, I hope you're happy. Because I'm certainly not. And it used to be, I could just ring Tom up anytime I needed to talk. And now I can't. Thanks to you.

But I digress. In my bitterness, I've forgotten the topic of this post... ADRIEN. Look, Adrien, look! Your name appears here, adrienadrienadrien! I'm writing about you and there's nothing in all the world you can do about it, Adrien!

What, will you come to my home to threaten me? News flash, Tom's WAY ahead of you there. Not with the coming to my home part, no. But the threats, sure! Why, when Val came over, the whole thing ended with him calling me out in front of everyone (i LOVE being embarrassed! thanks tom!( and then saying he'd like to punch me in the face. (To quote Donald Duck here, "Do it, faggot!") (Actually I'm only paraphrasing what D.D. said. Close enough!)

You people let me go and now have nothing you can take. You took yourselves, and your friendship was what I cared about. Now we aren't friends, so I could give a rat's ass what I type or what you do about it. I have nothing to lose! At least not as far as you're concerned.

Part of the reason I blog, other than being insanely anti-social, is because it's the only way to get a rise.

If I act rationally, if I call calmly to make amends, what do I get? A kick in the ass, that's what.

The only time anyone pays attention to me or makes contact with me is if I PISS THEM OFF.

Have I pissed you off enough yet, dear reader? Are you coming to visit? Please come and visit. I'll put the kettle on.

Seethe. Go on, seethe! Let's all seethe together! It's nice to do things together, isn't it?

Oh, and thank you SO much for being SO honest with me and SO understanding and SO good friends. I love you too!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Half-hearted update

2009-07-06T20:59:00.002-05:00

Well,

my cat died.

I'm still in debt.

I go to class, go to work, go to bed, rinse, and repeat.

I called Adrien to try to resolve things. He said our friendship mattered and then never called me back, which is what I expected.

I forgot I was mad at Tom and called him. He told me his brother Sam hung himself. I cried while he told me about the girl he liked. Not sure if he was being insensitive or just distracting himself.

At work we have many new hires and I've made some friends. I gave Anne and Michal rides home, and I went over to Katie's apartment to drink with her and Kathryn.

Money is still tight and I don't know how we'll eat this month with Ben's shitty income. No sign that he's looking for a new or second job.

I don't know what the point of this blog is anymore.

2009-06-28T10:32:00.002-05:00

I have a lot to say but have to be at work in ten minutes.

Good news, though. I balanced Ben and my checkbooks, and we're actually overbudget. Which is weird because occasionally we go out to eat or drink, and I didn't budget for that. Last night we had cake and fancy drinks at Chili's. At first I thought it was an error, and spent like fifteen minutes panicking and trying to figure out where we went wrong. But no, I went over it a dozen times and we actually are doing well. I'm better at this than I thought.

Lots of new people at work: K Khoury, K Hoffman, and J Feltman are all new on the schedule. I like Jessica and K Hoffman. Also I'm warming up to Bosszilla, aka Jackie, a lot. If you can get past the shouting and over-zealousness, she's actually very nice and easy to get along with. She calls me "Kiddo" a lot, which I sort of like, since it reminds me I'm still young. I feel old. I feel old, and tired.

I've become very sick and spent my last day off (Tuesday) at the hospital getting tests done. It comes and goes. I think I'm getting a little better now. I didn't cash in either of the prescriptions my doctor wrote. I'm already on three, not including birth control, and I'm starting to feel a bit ridiculous. I didn't want to blog about how sick I am because it's gross, and boring, and no one cares. It might only be stress. But a month in the making means there's something serious up.

In 13 days we get Shamus back.

Tried to call Adrien, but no word from him. Well, a text saying he'll call. He might. I hope. Do I? I'm doing very well for myself without friends, currently. I still have fun and I have lots of money. They say money can't bring happiness, but it can bring peace of mind, and it's difficult to be happy without that.

I need to start blogging again. Do I? My blogs mostly just piss people off. I could stop, I could fall off the face of the earth, and in the cosmic sense it wouldn't matter much. But why should I stop? I haven't changed since before I began blogging. To stop blogging would be pretending. Lying, even. No one has to read it. And my friends have already gone. So I might as well. And I will, as soon as I have some time to do it.

2009-06-22T09:33:00.001-05:00

I'm tired, and my jaw hurts.

And

2009-06-16T08:50:00.001-05:00

less than four weeks until we see Shamus again!

tying up loose ends; explaining friend drama finale; also, pretty pink text

2009-06-16T08:28:00.003-05:00

i deleted an entRy but i shouldn't havE As it explains quite a lot. Dated the ninth:

I have neglected you, haven't I, blog? It seems like it's harder for me to sit down and write when I actually have something to write about.

Well, Ben no longer works at Macy's. I shouldn't say he lost his job because he didn't. He fell asleep in a dressing room. ("I just sat down and closed my eyes for a second..." he said. Well, what possible outcome could that have?) So a manager found him, yelled at him, and sent him home.

But he wasn't "fired." Just reprimanded.

Anyway, he refused to go into work and got a job at Burger King the next day.

So by default he was sort of quit/fired. I made him go in at the end of the week to turn in his swipe card, ID badge, and pick up his paycheck. Etc etc.

He claims he has fulltime but I doubt it. They're giving him leftovers at BK and I'm scared about making our rent this month. I'm getting a second job (again) at n assisted living place. Night shift. This should be fun.

The whole thing shook the foundation of our relationship. See, Ben wouldn't go in because he said it would be "weird." Does he think it isn't for me? Suddenly I have this stigma of "the girl with the asshole boyfriend," you know? I vouched for him and he let me down. It's embarrassing. And for that matter, it was very irresponsible of him. Childish. And selfish. I mean, this isn't just about him. We have a budget together. How dare he compromise my well-being because he doesn't want to deal with an uncomfortable situation.

"Non-confrontational" is just a diplomatic way of saying "coward."

So now I have for you a nice segway into some more Hope/Tom drama. (Ugh.) This is funny because it took only four words to trigger it. And they weren't anything like "Go die, cunt face." Actually they were "See my status update."

See, on FB, I wrote my status update as follows:

"Julie McGinn thinks it's cute how people join groups like "child abuse must END!!!!!" without actually doing anything."

with the comment: "You're against beating kids, huh? Fantastic. So is everyone else, stupid. Why don't you get your fat ass off FaceBook and go join Big Brothers Big Sisters or something?"

So later that day, in a hilariously ironic move, Hope sent me a cause invitation for some group that was "End Child Prostitution."

If it were anyone else I would have thought this was a joke. But she was dead serious. So I declined her invitation and then commented: "See my status update."

So naturally Hope took it personally and removed me from her FaceBook.

So I called her to let her know that it wasn't personal and she just had the bad luck of timing. But she was mad about everything else: my "attacks" on her, which, again, aren't personal. I'm on the edge and everyone I know is taking it up the ass from me. It's not fair, but that's life.

So Hope thinks I'm being a total bitch, and admittedly, yes, I have been mean to her. And she's been ignoring me like crazy. So, you know, maybe she could have considered telling me to stuff it, or at least letting me know she was mad. But again, she's "non-confrontational." And going through "lots of personal issues."

So then I tell her, you know, I'm not really mad at her, just dealing with a lot of shit that makes me very testy. And she made the mistake of asking what.

Okay so, here's some advice: if someone gets upset, you ought to remain calm to help them get calm. Not get upset in tandem.

I start telling Hope about our financial shit and how I'm working these shitty minimum wage jobs and not getting my degree, at least as quickly as I'd hoped, and how no one cares to see me anymore, and wouldn't you know it, within a few minutes I was a sobbing mess.

So Hope flips out and, after we part ways, calls Tom.

Follow me here, camera guy: I'm on the edge and hate my life and myself and want nothing except the heartfelt support of a few close friends. Hope takes a personal issues between me and her and drags Tom into it. Tom, rather than staying a neutral party or getting my side of it, calls me the next morning and starts the conversation with "Julie, I'm about a hair's breadth from wiping my hands of you entirely..."

I lost it, then. "Wiping his hands of me?" What am I, shit? Garbage? That's something a parole officer says to a druggie who's fucked up again, or a mother says to a sullen teenager living in her basement. From one friend to another, that's bullshit.

No one ever put Tom in charge and this is not his business.

I told him to go ahead and do it then already because I no longer care. And that's the truth. Let him leave. Let her leave. Fuck all of them all, and the horse they rode in on. (Big horse. Carries lots of them all at once, apparently.)

How dare he.

I see now how it goes. If Julie gets Hope upset, Hope is a victim and Julie is a bitch. But never mind if Hope gets Julie upset. If I had called Tom and cried, he would never have called Hope and threatened to end their friendship. And who's he to end our friendship because, God forbid, I was honest with Hope and trusted her with my deepest feelings?

here are my feelings now.

tom has left. hoPe Has lEft. adrien has Left. mandy has not but i won't drag her into this. and i feel... fine. i feel disconnected and Perfectly free.

It wAs like a chore i was dreading that's over now. i'M not Even upset. is thAT bad? should i bE? because i feel... well, Nothing, but it isn't An unpleasant nothing. actually my biggest Worry right is thAt i get back the little dog figure i gave to tom. i've found You can't replace sentimental objects. people, actually, you can. Besides, theY haven't even been honest about it. micheLle spOke to tom aNd hE tried to pass it off LIke hope hadN't Even called him, and he juSt "happened" to be angry becauSe he just "haPpened" to see how "mean" i was being on FB. okay, yeah, i totaLly bElieve you thrEAtened to end our friendShip basEd on the words "see my status update." stop beIng a liar. and for that matter stop rewarding hope for playing a viCtim. for someone who vAlues streNgTh so much you really do graviTAte toward the spineless. (and yes i'm totally being mean here and calling hope spineless so if you haven't yet, remove me from your facebooK bEcause that's lIke The ultimate act of ending a friendship.) (totally sarcasm there. grow the fuck up, it's just facebook.)

anyway as i said i feel pretty good because i know the drama shit's over and from here on out it's just me and ben and shamus and carlisle and work and there won't be any more and it's okay. i'd rather be nothing than this super-evil being who hurts poor wittle hope. (again, total sarcasm.)

told you i was a placeholder.

told you i was a silver medal.

when will you learn.

i'm always ~~right~~ ~~wrong~~ ~~right~~ ~~wrong~~ ~~right~~ ~~wrong~~ ~~right~~ ~~wrong~~ ~~abandoned~~ ~~not worth it~~ ~~right~~ ~~wrong~~ in the end

2009-06-14T12:30:00.001-05:00

It's a lovely day today.

Disregard That, I Suck Cock

2009-06-09T11:28:00.000-05:00

Talked to Ben.

Deep breaths.

Give me a month to get my dog back.

I'll be okay.

I don't need them.

There are ten of us and only a handful of them.

I'm stronger than this.

Cut (9): Cleaning It All Up

2009-06-09T10:13:00.006-05:00

[Edit days later: really emo gay entry.]

I have neglected you, haven't I, blog? It seems like it's harder for me to sit down and write when I actually have something to write about.

Well, Ben no longer works at Macy's. I shouldn't say he lost his job because he didn't. He fell asleep in a dressing room. ("I just sat down and closed my eyes for a second..." he said. Well, what possible outcome could that have?) So a manager found him, yelled at him, and sent him home.

But he wasn't "fired." Just reprimanded.

Anyway, he refused to go into work and got a job at Burger King the next day.

So by default he was sort of quit/fired. I made him go in at the end of the week to turn in his swipe card, ID badge, and pick up his paycheck. Etc etc.

He claims he has fulltime but I doubt it. They're giving him leftovers at BK and I'm scared about making our rent this month. I'm getting a second job (again) at n assisted living place. Night shift. This should be fun.

The whole thing shook the foundation of our relationship. See, Ben wouldn't go in because he said it would be "weird." Does he think it isn't for me? Suddenly I have this stigma of "the girl with the asshole boyfriend," you know? I vouched for him and he let me down. It's embarrassing. And for that matter, it was very irresponsible of him. Childish. And selfish. I mean, this isn't just about him. We have a budget together. How dare he compromise my well-being because he doesn't want to deal with an uncomfortable situation.

"Non-confrontational" is just a diplomatic way of saying "coward."

So now I have for you a nice segway into some more Hope/Tom drama. (Ugh.) This is funny because it took only four words to trigger it. And they weren't anything like "Go die, cunt face." Actually they were "See my status update."

See, on FB, I wrote my status update as follows:

"Julie McGinn thinks it's cute how people join groups like "child abuse must END!!!!!" without actually doing anything."

with the comment: "You're against beating kids, huh? Fantastic. So is everyone else, stupid. Why don't you get your fat ass off FaceBook and go join Big Brothers Big Sisters or something?"

So later that day, in a hilariously ironic move, Hope sent me a cause invitation for some group that was "End Child Prostitution."

If it were anyone else I would have thought this was a joke. But she was dead serious. So I declined her invitation and then commented: "See my status update."

So naturally Hope took it personally and removed me from her FaceBook.

So I called her to let her know that it wasn't personal and she just had the bad luck of timing. But she was mad about everything else: my "attacks" on her, which, again, aren't personal. I'm on the edge and everyone I know is taking it up the ass from me. It's not fair, but that's life.

So Hope thinks I'm being a total bitch, and admittedly, yes, I have been mean to her. And she's been ignoring me like crazy. So, you know, maybe she could have considered telling me to stuff it, or at least letting me know she was mad. But again, she's "non-confrontational." And going through "lots of personal issues."

So then I tell her, you know, I'm not really mad at her, just dealing with a lot of shit that makes me very testy. And she made the mistake of asking what.

Okay so, here's some advice: if someone gets upset, you ought to remain calm to help them get calm. Not get upset in tandem.

I start telling Hope about our financial shit and how I'm working these shitty minimum wage jobs and not getting my degree, at least as quickly as I'd hoped, and how no one cares to see me anymore, and wouldn't you know it, within a few minutes I was a sobbing mess and talking about suicide again.

Disclaimer: I don't talk about emo shit for the sake of being emo. I take it very seriously, crap like that.

So Hope flips out and, after we part ways, calls Tom.

Follow me here, camera guy: I'm on the edge and hate my life and myself and want nothing except the heartfelt support of a few close friends. Hope takes a personal issues between me and her and drags Tom into it. Tom, rather than staying a neutral party or getting my side of it, calls me the next morning and starts the conversation with "Julie, I'm about a hair's breadth from wiping my hands of you entirely..."

I lost it, then. "Wiping his hands of me?" What am I, shit? Garbage? That's something a parole officer says to a druggie who's fucked up again, or a mother says to a sullen teenager living in her basement. From one friend to another, that's bullshit.

No one ever put Tom in charge and this is not his business.

I told him to go ahead and do it then already because I no longer care. And that's the truth. Let him leave. Let her leave. Let all of them go and then I won't have anything else to hang onto and they can claim amnesty when I do kill myself.

How dare he.

I see now how it goes. If Julie gets Hope upset, Hope is a victim and Julie is a bitch. But never mind if Hope gets Julie upset. If I had called Tom and cried, he would never have called Hope and threatened to end their friendship. And who's he to end our friendship because, God forbid, I was honest with Hope and trusted her with my deepest feelings?

Hope got everything. Everything.

She got all I always wanted and never quite deserved. Chance after chance from Tom. She got Tom's dedication. Tom's willingness to risk. I wasn't even worth a token gesture. Never was.

So I'm at 1/3.

And I know how this would go. This is precisely what happened with Kadie. She loved Ian, maybe romantically and maybe just platonically. But when it came down to the grit, nothing I did was good enough. I was the bad guy. I took the punishment.

So it's a good thing Tom has gone because I was becoming a bad guy and it was only a matter of time before he flipped out and got physical with me.

I don't think I deserve this.

Do I?

Could two out of three people in the world really think that poorly of me?

He didn't even ask me. Just took what Hope said.

And Hope! She says to me, "I don't actually read your blog but I know you talk trash about me and that hurts."

You don't even fucking READ it? Who's telling you I talk trash? Tom?

He'll turn Adrien and Mandy against me, too. (Already Adrien removed me, too, and we haven't spoken at all in ages... he never even told me...) Maybe even Michelle.

None of my friendships are safe (not that I have them). I have to start severing all these connections now.

Tom and Hope have gone. Good. Let them have each other. They love each other. Good.

There's no way to escape it, though. I can't cure what I am and now they're gone. They'll never come back and if they do it will be worse. I'm panicking. I lost my friendship with Tom over some fucking conversation with Hope. And Christ, what does he want from me? To smile and pretend it's all okay and then just slit my neck someday out of the blue without warning? Hope asked. Should I have lied?

Can't talk to him again about this. Because he has wiped his hands of me. I'm not worth it. And I never was. He made me think I was but I misinterpreted it. Oh God, what's it even worth without him? I've lost her, and then him. What next? I can't keep it up. I can't keep losing it. And it is somehow my fault.

[Edit: warning, really emo rant coming up. Written in the heat of the moment and completely retarded. Sorry.]

Tom told Hope I wouldn't do it. But he doesn't know me and he's not the boss of me. He stopped being that the moment he let me go. When exactly, I don't know. But he has now certainly. And he doesn't know me at all. If he had, wouldn't he have given me that one token? No. I wasn't worth it. And it would have been a worthless gesture. If I'm less than worthless then there's no problem. If you remove a negative force aren't you making the world positive? And that's a good thing. Like a final act of selfless mercy. Maybe they'll forgive me. I hope.

[Rant over. Go back to your lives now.]

21

2009-06-01T06:15:00.002-05:00

So my birthday was sort of rocky but eventually went all according to plan.

The trouble started when we went to pick up our tickets at 4 AM, and found out the ticket place in State College closes at 6. So we did manage to get on the bus and then got our tickets at the next stop in Harrisburg, where a woman who may or may not have been Queen Latifa yelled at us for not picking them up. When we finally got them, the guy in Harrisburg took two, including our ticket for the Pittsburgh to New York trip. So when we got to Pittsburgh the next guy wouldn't let us on and we missed our bus, and nearly missed the next one to NY too, until I cried to the supervisor and they let us on just to get rid of us.

Happily we finally arrived in New York around 3 pm. We walked to Central Park and spent some time just walking around and people watching. We got tickets to the zoo and stood around watching the Deer Mouse and the sea lions. ("This is where Mandy got engaged," I said at the penguins. Ben muttered something cynical about how we weren't invited, although Hope was for some reason.)

At five we departed for the bars. Went to Coppersmith's, showed our IDs. ("Let's get fucked up!" said the bartender. I asked for something gay and fruity for my first drink and got it on the house.) Following that, and some house wine, and three or four soco limes, we ended up talking to a drunk veteran named John. Poor guy. We dragged him home before going off to O'Lunney's, where I had another soco lime and was then refused anything else because I was too drunk. Then we wandered off. I fell down a few times, though I can't entirely remember that part. We dragged ourselves back to the bus stop by midnight, though our bus left at two, but I fell asleep and spent the whole ride sleeping too. When we got home I slept too. Didn't wake up until six in the afternoon the next day, and then still went to bed at the regular time. Took me a while to recover.

All in all I'd say it went well. I got drunk and saw aminals and despite some minor traveling hitches and getting the one responsible bartender in NY, it was a good birthday.

Plenty of birthday wishes, including from Mandy, Brad, and Jack by phone. None from Tom, though I can't blame him as I didn't wish him one. None from Hope. None from
Adrien. So what do I care? I already knew they could care less that I was born, as evidenced by the fact that they haven't bothered making sure I'm alive recently, ie, in nearly a year. Tried to talk to Adrien on FB recently. He scurried off to do some cleaning but maybe I'm just being paranoid and he wasn't hostile and just really had to get it done.

Also, believe we've picked out a second dog. His name is to be Carlisle, but this is still in the planning stages and I won't say anything for sure until I know.

It's kind of tragically ironic that now that I'm 21, I don't have enough money to actually buy booze. I'm going to have to work harder on finding Devon's secret stash.

Due to International Copyright Law, She Is NOT Godzilla

2009-05-27T09:35:00.002-05:00

We got our new store manager at Macy's and I immediately disliked her.

For one thing, she shouts. She's like Billy Mayes' wife. She introduced herself as "Jackie," and also added "Don't call me Mrs. ------, that's my mom!" Har har. No one was planning on calling you Mrs. Anything. Stop being so pretentious and fake friendly.

Her new policy is that the managers will walk around greeting customers while we open registers. See, a LOT of customers have been complaining they can't find anyone. That's because we're understaffed, not because we're opening registers! And news flash, NO ONE is here and looking for us during the first fifteen minutes! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Her other policies include: we have to wear our nametags, and have to greet customers. Um, we already had to do that.

Don, one of the HR managers, is so on edge. I've never seen him like this. Don is a friendly, smiley redhead with glasses who you can't help but like, and I'm mad at Jackie for making him so high-strung.

He asked me and Ben not to touch anymore. At morning meetings, before the store opens, we usually put our arms around each other. No more of that. He never cared before; I'm positive this is because Jackie is a hardass and will call it "unprofessional." It's not like we do it in front of the customers! Besides, whenever me and Ben tease each other in front of the customers, they think it's ADORABLE. I think the "no holding hands" policy is bullshit, but Ben and I agreed to follow it so Don doesn't get in trouble.

Last reason I hate Jackie: at the morning meeting I was drinking from a bottle of water. Reminder: I'm very, very ill. Also, the medications I'm on give me horrible cotton mouth. Like I actually start foaming at the mouth.

So Jackie yells, "BY THE WAY I SEE SOME OF YOU HAVE DRINKS. I'M NOT GOING TO NAME ANY NAMES BUT THIS IS ONE OF MY PET PEEVES. YOU HAVE TO KEEP DRINKS IN THE BREAKROOM OR STOCKROOM etc etc more shouting!"

Way to call me out in front of everyone. You "didn't name names," huh? Probably because you don't know my name. Everyone knows you were talking about me and all of us found it pretty fucking rude. And don't bullshit me about how it "reflects badly on us to the customers." They would probably rather see me drinking than foaming. But hey, you're the boss!

I really, really dislike Jackie, or as I call her, "Bosszilla." I hope to God she turns out okay, but something tells me her reign of terror is only starting.

Reconnecting

2009-05-24T17:50:00.003-05:00

Right, so, the last few days have been busy.

Let's backtrack to Wednesday. I woke up feeling fine. I went to work feeling fine. By noon, I had a sore throat, a headache, and a slight cough. By evening, I was dragging, though maybe that was because of Tom.

See, Tom called me up and wanted to "come up," by which he meant go out somewhere, not come up to my apartment where, God forbid, Ben might be in. So after work we went to Perkins. (Tom again sat in the parking lot and let me come down.) I spent the whole time coughing and being bitter.

It's odd, because I looked so forward to seeing him. I really was. And then when I saw him it was the same old crap, nothing but arguing and feeling sorry for myself. And then afterwards he was like "Same time next Wednesday?" And then it hit me: I'm a project. He sounded like a damn shrink. I'm just another little lost soul for him to fix. Well. Fuck that. I declined. Starting to think it's just not worth it anymore, really. Not sure it's reparable.

The next morning I had the hackiest, wettest cough imaginable and was so tired and achy I couldn't even move. I called off work and went to the doctor's, where my cough alone got me in ahead of everyone else in the waiting room. According to my oxygen levels, I should have been unconscious and it was either luck or willpower, or some combination of the two, that I'd made it there without passing out.

Five prescriptions later, I almost got sent home with an oxygen tank. I declined and spent the next two days lying on the cough, wheezing, coughing, fever-ing, and waiting for sweet death to take me.

Happily the medicine did its job and I got to return to work on Saturday. Saturday evening Ben and I went to meet Jen and Mandy. Jen is an old friend of Ben's from high school who wanted to meet me and I think we really hit it off. Mandy is, well, Mandy. But since I called her she's been calling and stuff. I actually feel guilty because I worry that I made her guilty and hence all the attention. I mean, I don't want to be a pity friend or an obligation friend.

Anyways, we went to Texas Roadhouse. I had a lot of fun I suppose.

Was that all I had to do to reconnect to Mandy? Should I call Adrien too? If the only thing standing in our way is a phone call, why not? What if I got it all wrong and instead of everyone except Tom leaving, no one except Tom is leaving?

Things there are... tense. Like, Tom invited me to his annual bonfire at the farm. It was a nice gesture but I feel like it was just that, a gesture. And he didn't invite Ben. Not that I expected him to, but still. Also he listed the host for the event as "Sir Thomas Darby, Esq." Hey hon, you're not a "sir" or an "esq." To be either you actually have to accomplish shit and be knighted. So I don't know. Lately I'm irritated at Tom and I feel like his sole interest in me anymore is clinical.

So my birthday is this Friday. Ben got us tickets to NY and we have reservations at Jekyll & Hydge (it's on Avenue of the Americas). I balanced his checkbook for him and our budget is looking solid. Everything is going better overall but I still feel really alienated and depressed a lot and I'm not sure why. I suppose I just miss the way it was.

Wake-Up Call

2009-05-19T09:04:00.004-05:00

More friend updates.

I called Mandy like two days ago to find out if we're on speaking terms. See, I miss her, and also I had planned on her being one of my bridesmaids. So we talked for like two hours about weddings and stuff and Mandy promised to call the next day.

So the next day rolls around (some of you psychic folks know what's coming) and I get a text from Mandy in the evening reiterating that she'll call later.

And then (here it comes!) she doesn't call.

And the next day, again, no call.

Now, maybe she'd forgotten, but why would she have bothered sending the text then? That's sort of adding insult to injury.

My new system for dealing with crap that makes me angry is making up a story for it. So here's my story:

Mandy sends a text message.

"Hey, who are you texting?" asks Adrien/Tom.

"Julie," says Mandy. "And I'm going to call her later."

"Ew, don't," says Tom/Adrien. "I can't stand her."

"Well, okay. I'll give into peer pressure since I like you more anyway," says Mandy.

See, I can't blame Mandy if she was only going along with someone else, particularly if the person was someone she respects more than me.

So Ben's friend Jen called and wants to hang out Saturday. So she invited Mandy. (Har har, hilarity.) We're going out to dinner at some steakhouse. I immediately liked Jen and talked at length with her even though we've never met. So when she invited Mandy, Mandy was like, "Is Ben coming?"

Uh, yeah. Mandy's like "well I'm not sure if we're on speaking terms." Well, no, you're not, because you're not speaking to him. Duh.

So then last night I called Tom. Things there are less awkward than I imagined they would be though Tom nearly did hang up on me. Can't remember why. I think because I called everyone out on being a total liar. (Prove me wrong, guys!) He says he'll come by Wednesday. Hm. Not buying it.

See, I really got my hopes up that Mandy really would call, and she didn't. So why should I get my hopes up that Tom really will come by on Wednesday, or that Jen and Mandy really will be here Saturday? I have better things to do with my time (ie, drinking to excess) than sit around by the phone pining for companionship. To quote the chihuahuas in Beverly Hills Chihuahua, "no mas!" I'm not some plaything they can take out of the toybox whenever it's convenient and then forget it when someone shinier (Hope) comes along.

The thing is, I would rather just be told the truth than having these make-me-feel-better lies thrown at me and then having them crushed to oblivion. I was so upset and Ben was like, "well why did you get your hopes up in the first place?"

Tom suggested Mandy didn't call because she was worried how I'd react since she didn't call. But why didn't she just call in the first place? Or send me a non-lying text that said something like, "hey sorry 2 busy 2 call but see u later! :)"

That's like when everyone said they werent talking to me because I blogged about what shitty friends they were. Well, I only blogged that because you weren't talking to me! Why weren't you talking to me to begin with?

See, all their excuses are retro-active. Unless they're fortune tellers, that shit doesn't fly with me.

In non-dramatic crap news, Ben and I found a REALLY nice watch lying around. It doesn't fit either of us and we've never seen it before. We think it must be Devon's, either stolen or hustled or won in a game of poker. Ben got it sized so he can wear it. Stuff like that crops up all the time in this house and generally we just don't question it.

Better living through denial, right, world?

This Just In: "Tuning" Spelled with Two Ns

2009-05-17T09:31:00.005-05:00

Click for the larger view!

1/3 of the world is ok

2009-05-17T08:27:00.003-05:00

Okay, so let's see...

I have a 3-day weekend off from work. Today is Day Two. Even though I always look forever to these breaks, I usually end up feeling bored and lonely and don't know what to do with myself.

Called Mandy yesterday. We talked wedding details, mostly. So we're definitely on talking terms and there's no bad blood there, which is great because I'd always planned on Mandy being a bridesmaid and to date I'm short by 2. (I don't have enough close girlfriends.)

Basically she was mad over something I wrote in my blog (surprise surprise) and after not talking to me for so long felt weird calling out of the blue. Now I'm wondering how many people are mad at me and how many just don't know what to say.

Anyway, to date, here's the friend list:

Ben
Feels toward me: Love.
Feels toward him: Love.
Ding!

Tom
Feels toward me: Sense of worry, misplaced responsibility, possibly obligation.
Feels toward him: Love, loyalty, not being good enough.
Eeh. (Buzzer sound.) Unrequited love is healthy and since Tom's heading toward a grand-mal breakdown right now, I need to fade into the background for a while.

Hope
Feels toward me: Friendship based on denial, annoyance that I'm still sometimes a jerk to her.
Feels toward her: Raging jealousy at the amount of support and forgiveness she gets for trials far lesser than mine.
Eeh. It's not her fault everyone likes her more and puts more into the relationship there. I need to stop being so petty.

Mandy
Feels toward me: Non-hostility (defined by Merriam-Webster as "friendliness)
Feels toward her: Similar non-hostility
Ding! I'm glad I called her yesterday. I can count her as a friend again.

Adrien
Feels toward me: ???????
Feels toward him: Fear
Eeh. The only thing I've heard from Adrien is when Tom mentioned he may or may not be mad at me. Not sure where we stand and so basically I'm scared of him, or pissing him off further. Need to figure out where we actually stand.

Myself
Feels toward me: A sense of anxiety, loathing, and concern that I'm wrong.
Feels toward me: The same.
Eeh. I need to chillax, as James would say. Corrollary: most of my personalities are trying to help me and seem to like me, though a select few, like Devon, are trying to sabotage me for reasons unknown.

Okay, so 2/6, that's not bad! And me and Hope and Tom are kinda-sorta friends, almost. So with a little bit of a stretch I've got 4/6. And if Adrien's not mad at me, 5/5 for everyone who isn't me! *claps for self*

Oh God I'm so alone.

Last night Ben and I had a nice meal at a 50's diner called Baby's. Things between us two are smashing, to borrow one of Jack's words here. (Hi Jack.)

We're moving into our new apartment in July. The only thing that worries me is that there are some minor changes to the lease so we have to re-sign, and get Ben's mom to re-sign, and both Ben and his mother are terrible procrastinators. We have until the 26th. But if all goes well we'll get to move in this July (and get my Shamie back!).

Let's see... other news... nope, none. Sorry for the lacklustre blog post. Life is just sort of boring right now, and I'm losing so much time, I'm missing out on a lot of it.

Without further ado, here's my top 5 list of Macy's Regulars.

Macy's Regular's:
My Top Five

Honorable Mention: Brenda Keen, the slender British/Scottish woman who calls everyone "love," "doll," "lamb," or some other term of endearment after literally every sentence. She's so sweet. Her husband is very sick; she usually leaves him in a chair by the door. I think he has Alzheimer's or something.

#5 Riley and her mom. Riley & co. pretty much represent every other parent-and-child pair we get in Macy's. Example of Riley and her mother during one shopping excursion: the time is about 9 at night. Riley is roughly six years old. The scene opens in the dressing room, where we can hear Riley pounding against the walls and her mother, in a calm, even, soothing voice, asking, "Riley, please, can you calm down? ...see what happens when you eat chocolate?" Later, Riley runs around screaming while Mom explains to her fellow mortified shoppers, "*laughs* I fed her a piece of chocolate." Later, she tells me the same thing. Hey, Mom, Riley's a brat because 1) it's late and she should be in bed, 2) you're ASKING her instead of TELLING her to knock it off. You're the mom! Stop reasoning, asking, and bargaining with her! She's SIX! Just TELL her! (Also, stop using that BS chocolate excuse. Even if it is the chocolate, what kind of mom are you for feeding a six-year-old chocolate at 9 at night?)

#4 The ex-flower child. So there's this one woman who comes in. She has to be about 50. And she dresses like she's going as a hippie for Halloween. Picture this: pure white dresses, with belts like belly-dancers wear, causing her to jingle loudly where ever she goes. Sandals, her hair dyed bright orange and fixed in place with a large, flowery mess the size of my head. ALWAYS comes in with a normal-looking friend. Mostly buys jewelry.

#3 The mail-order bride. Her name is something like Ella Tantechen or something. She's a tall, blonde, typical-looking middle-aged woman who's trying too hard to be a beauty queen. According to Angela in merchandising, she was a mail-order bride from Russia and a full-time shopper. Her husband? A short, balding man who is loaded and "has too much liquid coming out of him." Angela says sometimes he comes into Macy's during his lunch break and eats a sandwich, granting everyone the horrifying sight of him ingesting the sandwich while simultaneously leaking drool and sandwich juice all over himself. "Not for all the money in the world," says Angela.

#2 Vanessa. A woman with short hair in little braid/dreads things. Comes in a couple times a month. Always happy to see me. Usually wearing a cross and always happy to talk about God. Vanessa is one of the few people who I actually like seeing. She usually gives me a hug or a pat on the back, and I always make a point to say hello when I see her. She's an absolute angel.

#1 The rice-picker. This woman got her nickname from Colleen. Known by every single person in the women's department, the rice-picker is a gray-haired woman with a mean face that looks like she's smelling something bad and is usually accompanied by her navy blue parka. The rice-picker is sneaky, rude, and mean rolled up into one package. She is incapable of speaking without arguing. She has no children, no husband, and apparently no other hobby than coming into Macy's and arguing over prices with us. Picks fights over trivial things and does her best to create work for us. Never says "please" or "thank you," but has said "gimme" to me before and accused Amanda of being a liar because she didn't know about a coupon in the paper. I hope she gets hit by a bus. Also, pretty sure she steals.

That's all, folks! Sad that on my six-item list, only two of those people I like seeing. (Sort of like how in our group of 6 friends, only 2 I'm certain are actual friends). Most people who come into Macy's are... well... let's just say I deserve a medal for some of the crap I put up with.

2009-05-14T03:53:00.002-05:00

There's definitely something wrong with me here. Lately everything is fuzzy and sometimes I'm using the wrong name and thinking or forgetting things I shouldn't. I feel like some walls are breaking down. This isn't fair. Why is this only me and none of the other personalities?

(add: not that i know of)

I'm like a grab-bag of human emotion. Look: Devon took hatred and anger, James took peace, happiness, and optimism, Kelly took calm and responsibility, Klaus took logic, reason, et cetera, et cetera. What happens if they take it all? What if THEY'RE integrating with ME instead of the other way round and now I'll become a shell and they're take everything?

GET OUT OF MY HEAD CHARLES.

Okay it's also about 4:45 in the morning so I need to calm my ass down and not freak out here. *breathing*

And on the Eighth Day, Julie Created Devon; and Devon Created Drama; And They Saw That It Sucked

2009-05-12T06:44:00.002-05:00

Speed update before breakfast at the Waffle Shop with some pals from work.

Yesterday: I woke up in Macy's kids' department. Realized Ben was there. Almost threw up and shook a whole lot.

Not sure of the whole story here since Ben sucks balls at explaining stuff. As far as I can tell, Devon is trolling Tom's ass, and Ben's ass. Typical. Told Ben he was going to fuck everything up with Tom, unless Ben gave him a "better deal," whatever that means. The problem is that to Devon the best deal is probably the most destructive one. Dev, you're supposed to protect me. Please stop wrecking my life and causing drama and fucking with the people I care about.

Ben says Devon wants to make Dylan aware so he'll take over. (Can they do that?) Not sure what's going on on Tom's end, except that Dev talked to him because he told Ben that and it's on the phone's history. Ben told me he'd take care of it and I think he told Tom to stay the fuck away from me.

On one hand I don't want him to stay away but on the other he has to if Devon is pulling this shit because it makes me a danger to myself and let's face it Tom would probably only fuck me up worse.

Shit, shit, I had something else to say and I can't remember it now... oh btw WHERE is Kelly? Isn't he supposed to be running this show? Why isn't he reining Devon in or something? (Can he do that?)

Now I'm worried about this on top of everything else.

On the bright side finances are going well. Well, not well, but we're eeking by paycheck to paycheck and in a year my debts will be paid off, which means one year from now we'll have an extra 300-700 a month. Hello, savings and a future!

...yesterday was thinking about kids. Would it be selfish not to integrate for them? I don't worry about any of the others' parenting skills, except Devon. I don't know. Children are a long way off for us but I still worry about these sort of things. You sort of have to when you're crazy.

2009-05-09T10:25:00.002-05:00

Almost forgot.

Val appears to have removed my access from all her posts. We're still friends, which means she'll get my updates, but she's either blocked me from seeing her posts by making them private, or she's deleted them. I expected this after I quoted her, since I know she still checks my blog, which is why I checked.

(Hey Val, what's up? Can we, by which I mean you, stop being so childish? Either ignore me completely for real, or stalk me openly like a normal person.)

Last hit from Altoona: May 3. Mandy? Tom? Who cares?

Everyone seems intent on being there where I crash and burn, finally, but no one actually wants to speak to me directly. Could this be any fucking stupider?

2009-05-09T05:30:00.002-05:00

Hm. Adrien and Mandy are moving. Didn't tell me. Looks like it's about 2 blocks away. Thanks, FB. Can't say I'm surprised. Bothered I suppose but otherwise could care less. Probably won't find out their new address except through FB again but who cares since we never hang out.

Ever.

Wonder if Tom's moving too. Part of me feels he will... actually, all of me does. Tom has a certain neediness for neediness; without people to make him feel important, he'd wither up and die. Strikes me that he'd tag along with Adrien and Mandy, an excuse at ready for anyone who commented upon it. Mind, I do hope he stays at the old apartment. One, so that I know where he is.

It was so much worse when he was leaving for Duke. Physical distance is the worst. Nowadays, we're only apart by 40 minutes and some healthy loathing. I can deal with loathing.

And two, because if he stays, he'll get new upstairs roommates. I hope they're like all the upstairs roommates I've ever had. Why? Because Tom's got something to prove and he's on a self-proclaimed mission to do it. Don't think he's ever actually been in a fight (I could be wrong, I just don't recall... come to think of it, maybe he was in high school, who knows?) but he talks a lot of smack. Excuse my innercity-ness, but he does. He's always on the warpath. The only people who travel there are people with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And let's face it, Tom's in his late twenties and is lacking a stable job, a stable relationship, any sort of useful degree, and is living largely on credit. So he has this bizarre aggression complex where he says he'll fight people and probably even wants to, but never really does.

I hope he gets some huge asshole of a Neanderthal. Tom lacks limits; he'll pick a fight, get his ass handed to him on a silver platter, and maybe be a slightly more humble person for it. (Leopards don't change their spots.)

I know if I complain about being kept in the dark they'll say "We didn't tell you because we knew you'd have this kind of reaction."

It's sort of like trying to not tell someone they have cancer.

I'm going to figure this stuff out eventually and of course I'm upset.

Christ.

So there's this dummy at work I've named Persephone. She's different from the others because she's sort of a silvery metallic color. (The rest are white and are Mary Sue, Sue Ellen, and Mary Jean. Sue Ellen is my favorite.) She models mostly Jones New York, petite. Found her with her shirt off. Put it back on. A few days later, someone had taken her shirt off again. At least the second time she wasn't bare-chested; they'd turned her sweater around backwards so she was sort of covered even though it was a crochet sweater. For some reason that really deeply bothered me. I know they're just dummies but I don't like seeing them like that.

2009-05-08T05:55:00.002-05:00

Played D&D with Alice yesterday. It actually turned out great. Ben BM'd for the technical details (rolls and stuff) and I DM'd for the storyline and the landscape. Worked out great. We played for four hours and she wants to do it next week too.

I like creating here. I've thrown in every character ever. My first ever character, Waywocket Stumbleduck the goblin. Draven the priest from my unfinished book "Satyr's Song." Merle from "The Goon." My friend Jack. Hidea the vampire from a completely different MPG. Aunt Jemima from the syrup bottle. A character that was a mixture of Ms. Potts from Beauty and the Beast and Karen from work who was born in Hastings. It's a good place. Everyone is familiar. You might even call them friends, even the ones I didn't create.

Had a dream last night. I and Mandy and Hope were at a hospital. Someone in Mandy's family, a sister or cousin, had just had a baby. They took the elevator, leaving me behind. I ran up five flights of stairs and came to the room with the babies, a bright nursery. I heard them mumbling about me, laughing at how hard I was breathing. Later I came back. Pretty babies in little beanies and jumpers.

Then later I was in some sort of huge underground wasteland... a dump... and as you went farther in things were more organized. As far as I could see it was nothing but garbage and cranes. I was looking for something in these piles of trash... that's it.

Also one of the cranes was made of cooked carrots.

2009-05-07T08:20:00.002-05:00

My cat is sick. I could have sworn I got him on my fifth birthday, but no, he's older than that. 16, in fact. I must have gotten him for my fifth birthday. Hm. I worn have sworn by it.

There are masses in his pancreas, his kidneys, his liver, his thyroid. Probably his brain, as he's had about four seizures in two days. He weighs less than 11 pounds now and he has a half-dozen tubes running to and from him. Liver enzymes, bloood glucose, and ADH levels are all out of wack.

Talking with my mother about him is hard. Lots of long pauses. Told her about my gazelle head to fill the silence. I could sense disapproval. This was another sign of my immaturity. What do I care? I no longer depend on my parents for anything, so who cares what they think.

Anyway Spring is sick and so am I.

I sent him a text, "We got pizza." A coded invitation I neither expected him to interpret or accept. Nope. Later I tried to talk to him on FaceBook. Lots of long pauses. What do I care? I no longer depend on him for anything, so who cares what he thinks. He sent me a text after we spoke. "Thinking of you." So what? I'm not psychic. That doesn't mean anything to me. For all he knows I could have killed myself after we spoke. Sometimes I wonder how long it would be before everyone noticed.For Tom, weeks. For Adrien and Mandy, months, unless Tom told them, which he undoubtedly would.

Found out why he was on FaceBook. Hope left him a wall post. So he was talking to Hope. Of course. Hope > me. I forget these things.
Checked Val's blog:

April 7
"Despite his being a major asshole to me suddenly and for absolutely no good reason...

I miss Tom. A lot.

He did so much for me before he abandoned me. I had a dream about him last night that felt incredibly real. I want to be hugged again like that.

He'll never realize just how awful it was to lose him. To this day, I have his number in my phone still, in hopes that he'll call me."

Felt something like anger. How dare she lay claim to what was once mine. Incidentally, her little visit to Tom was what first drove the wedge between him and I. That was the very beginning of a crack which can nw likely never be repaired. Hope it was worth ruining my friendship for her to feign one of her own for an exceedingly brief period.

Checked Hope's blog. Nothing there I care to comment on. Lots of emo shit about how much she's "lost." Yes, so much. Not a child or her family or any of her friends or any of her financial security... but gosh darn it, she lost a boy she was dating for a month and had a crush on. (Ed's note: Fuck you, Hope.)

Course I'm not really angry. Too much angry. I feel a little better today. Lucid. Too tired to be angry or eccentric. Just sort of "being," which is a decent enough state to be in. Wishing Tom might come by today. Doubt it. Peraps I'll stop by there. Who am I kidding. I know I won't. I don't think Adrien or Mandy welcome me into their house anymore.

Made a semi-new friend though. Anne at work. Friended each other on FaceBook and talk sometimes at work. She's a psych major which makes me wary of her. Eveen worked in an institute. Can't get too close, though it is nice to have someone else in the world.