67 plus 1

As of yesterday, it has been 67 days, the number I thought would be magic (okay, not really. I did recognize that basing my hopes for survival and healing on an episode of “How I Met Your Mother” was not really practical.). And here I am, with freshly dyed and awesome hair, and I’m still sad. I still miss him. And I’m still angry. I’m tired of being angry, although I do think back fondly on the myself of two months ago who was afraid I wouldn’t get angry (the book I bought says you need to work through your anger in order to feel passion again). Both tend to hit me in strong waves, and I just want to forgive, forget and move on. Even more than feeling angry or sad or whatever, I’m tired of thinking of him. Wondering if he’s thinking of me, if he regrets anything. Wondering how long it’ll take the full regret to hit him, if he’ll ever contact me or if the night he broke up with me was the last time I’ll see him. I’m hoping this last wave, which has been stronger than those in the past, is the last one, the last “I’m ridding myself of him and therefore must mourn and process things once more” thing, rather than a “I’m stressed and sick and tired and worn out and thinking of all the things that I’ve got to do, therefore I miss my previous support system” thing.

I have decided that I’m probably not going to meet people in bars, and therefore need to rethink that aspect of going out. Saturday night was one of my friends’ birthdays (or at least her party), and one of her friends and I wandered around a bar, looking for someone I might be interested in (btw, her friends are AWESOME). And I found no one. Which in large part could be because the guys you meet in bars, especially bars in Adams Morgan, are not the kinds of guys I’m going to be attracted to. I do think another part of it, though, is that I’ve realized that I’m terrified of getting hurt. I know, I was all, “I’m ready to date again…” which isn’t entirely not true. I mean, how do you get over your fears except by facing them? But the thought of going through all of this again? Nearly gives me a panic attack.

A not so brief summary

There have been about 214456987 things to blog about in the last week, but… well, I fail. First I was going to write about seeing Haley and her dad, which was awesome. I love Haley. Seeing her always reminds me that no matter how much we might disagree on issues (she’s conservative, I’m liberal), being open-minded and respectful makes all the difference. Every time, I walk away thinking how much I love her, and how much fun it is to see her, no matter what we wind up talking about. Plus, as I believe I’ve mentioned, we’re going through similar situations right now, so the support is nice. Her dad, too, is great. I was entertained by the fact that he was mildly surprised at my parents’ reaction to the break-up, which was more “We’re sad, we liked him,” than “How could he do this to our daughter?!?!?!” (the latter being what he felt was the correct response). His new cd, though? Is going to rock. I’m super-excited about it. And Haley’s going back into the studio, hopefully soon, and that’s going to be great, too.

Then I was going to write about my first date, which was okay. The guy was really nice, but there wasn’t a huge connection. Then I was going to write about knitting group drama, but then I decided I didn’t care enough and that it wasn’t worth the mental energy, what with all the things going on in my life.

Like, for example, the stress of having a prospectus due in a couple of weeks. This is basically my proposal for my oral exams, and I need both advisors to sign off on it and the reading list. It’s due the week after Thanksgiving, which means I have to have them sign it before I leave for Thanksgiving… Plus there is all the final paper stuff and I at one point dreamt that I was suffocating in a sandstorm while in a class (seriously? Mind, can you be a little less literal???). So me=STRESSED. Although I am starting to narrow down my topic, which is helpful. I also had a funny dream about Emily, where her fiancé was going to Tartuga so I wanted him to bring me back Johnny Depp.

I also dreamt about him. Twice about us getting back together, the first where I was so not enthused and the second where I was more hopeful and excited. Plus this weekend was the Dar concert we usually went to every year. That and the stress and the time of year and everything… I’ve regressed back to really missing him. A part of me is convinced he is coming back, but let’s face it. It’s unlikely. CW texted him on Saturday night (we’d gone out, had a few rum and cokes, and were feeling a little mean. Or I was, and she was willing to go along with it), and was surprised to get no response. I of course was not. He never responded to texts. And right now, I’m sure he thinks no response at all is taking the high road. Whatever. I recognize that he has a lot of growing up to do. I think a lot of my problems with the relationship revolved around issues of immaturity. But right now, I don’t care. Except for when I’m feeling angry. Because I’m still in that stage, too…

Lessons Learned, and I Don't Have to Move

I learned many a thing last night, the first and foremost being that it is freaking awesome to be on the winning side of a major election. Not only on the winning side, but in a toss-up state where your vote actually counts. I win! I also love how many people in other countries celebrated and congratulated and basically are saying, “Yay, Americans AREN’T morons…” Gives one a lovely glowing feeling.

I went with some of the other grad students to bar to watch the results come in. It was a good time. Lots of cheering and chatting and whatnot. They had both McCain and Obama shots there. I met some of the first years and hung out with a few more that I’ve met but never really see. HOWEVER. It was the location of yet another lesson. Do not joke more than once with a gay guy about him bringing you men back to the table. He just might do it. And it was thoroughly awkward. I mean, I think I might be ready to start dating again (I keep trying to figure out how I feel. It’s like when you have a bruise and you poke it to see if it still hurts), but not like that. I’m pretty picky and just because I might say someone is cute doesn’t mean I’m actually attracted to them in any kind of real way. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I just wasn’t interested. It didn’t help that whenever he was like “I don’t think she’s interested,” aforementioned gay guy was all like, “No, she totally said you were cute!” I could have smacked him. Sigh.

But still. Much happiness. And I’m dying my hair next week. That’s right, I took the plunge and made an appointment.

Holding my breath

It’s election day, and I’m actually pretty excited. I wasn’t, but then I walked to work and saw the teenagers out with their “Yay, Obama” and “Vote” (with the “o” being Obama’s logo), and it all of a sudden hit me. If we don’t win today… God help us all. And I’m moving. Well, as soon as I get my degree.

This is only my second time voting in a presidential election (I was a mere 17 in the infamous 2000 episode), and once again, I voted early. And I’m glad I did. It only took me 20 minutes, I got my sticker, and I got out of there. But there is a strange energy everywhere. It might just be because of my location, but everyone is paying attention. Riveted to the television and internet and antsy to find out the results. And I doubt that it’s just DC; after all, there are insane lines all over the country. For this one moment in time, people everywhere seem to have realized: “THIS IS IMPORTANT.” The rest of the world will judge us for our decision, the rest of the world will be impacted by our decision, therefore the rest of the world is watching with bated breath as well. The news is reporting record early voting, so record it seems as though the early voting this year might outstrip regular voting percentiles from 2004.

It kind of feels like Christmas. But a Christmas where you get a decent economy, improved international relations, and reformation of several social problems (hopefully) if you’re good, and hatred and depression if you’re bad.

Not-so-Happy Halloween

Well, my Halloween was a complete and utter bust. Not because I didn't have plans. I had TWO things (at least) that I could have gone to, and I was totally going to do one. I even had a funny costume idea: I was going to be Russia to my friend's Sarah Palin. The theme: ensuring that everyone had enough foreign experience to be VP. But Thursday night I was exhausted and starting to get a headache. I thought, "It's just a headache, plus I didn't sleep well last night... I'll be fine tomorrow." Friday morning, I woke up still with a headache, but I figured it'd go away. It did not. In fact, it got worse. Not only did it get worse, it was joined my nausea. I hadn't thrown up in a long time for reasons beyond my control. I now remember how much I hate it. It was AWFUL. I'd get up only long enough to throw up, and then collapse back in pain, covering my eyes so the flickering from the tv didn't bother me and then dozing while listening to whatever was on. So, needless to say, I missed my party. Not only did I miss my party, but I actually have lots of work to do, so even though today I again was exhausted, I drug myself out and am now sitting at a cafe so I can download one of the movies I'm supposed to watch for class on Thursday. It's taking forever, and the other movie we have to watch I can only either watch streaming (which given my internet status at my apartment=going somewhere else to watch it) or go to Blockbuster and rent it, which I don't want to do.

Plus the fever has given me strange dreams, leading to me dreaming (of course) about him, in a weird situation where we were trying to be friends but not really and I couldn't really figure out what was going on and how to act. There was also an incident with showers and bathrooms and someone stealing my shower curtain and replacing it with cardboard... And then my family was there and we were doing stuff in DC. It was all... well, weird, and the main thing I remember was that seeing him and then having him vanish made me feel really lonely. Which of course makes sense, since I am kind of lonely, given that he was my best friend and I spent hours every week with him, and now I spend all that time by myself.

Two Steps Forward, 1.5 Steps Back

LL and I went to the Shen Wei dance production at the Kennedy Center last night. It was… interesting and fascinating and surprisingly mesmerizing. I say surprisingly because usually I enjoy dance, but kind of space out and get bored and whatnot. But this… it was like meditating through dance, especially the first half (the piece was Re:). The second half was a physical interpretation of the music, the kind of crazy dancing you do when no one can see or when you’re a kid or whatever. Only insanely controlled. I can’t imagine how strong these people must be. EVERY movement was perfect and interesting. The things they could do with their backs or their arms… occasionally they looked possessed, but in a non-bad way. It was highly enjoyable. (I am repaying LL by taking her to see Carmen with the tickets I got with SB’s gift certificate before he broke up with me.)

Besides that…well, I’m insanely stressed out, what with work and school and being crazily busy. And I’ve started missing him insanely much. I have Sara Bareilles’ song “Come Round Soon” in my head, and a part of me thinks he’ll call any day now and want to get back with me. I know it’s not true and I know it’s not healthy, but I can’t change the way I feel about it. And now all the tiny things are reminding me of him, small phrases, the fact that someone said “cookie,” the fact that it’s fall and we both love fall and he visited me in England in the fall… I miss him as much now as I did when I was overseas and he was not. And that was when things were still really good and when he hadn’t broken my heart (I also have that image from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, when Alexis says that).

Rewind

Yeah, so I realized something else tonight. While all that stuff I wrote earlier today is true, I didn’t stay with him despite it all. I stayed with him because of everything else. I mean, yeah, he occasionally was an asshat. But a lot of the time, most of the time, he was a good boyfriend. A really good boyfriend who would do anything he could to make me happy. And right now, I miss him. I miss him a lot. I just want to call him up and have him come over and watch tv and cuddle. And I know I can’t. I won’t. But I’d give a lot to go back to when I could.

Rehash

Ugh. I found an old diary entry from a few years ago (December, 2005, to be exact). It was describing a fight we’d had, the first time he really let loose on me. And I can remember that fight. I can remember how he just lost it and was nasty and mean. I believe that it was the fight that happened after his friends’ party, when I walked in to see him getting a massage from another girl when he knew I wouldn’t like that. (He tended to suppress negative emotion and then act out because of it.) Though she did give amazing massages. I was still pissed. He also blamed me for stopping him from playing Century Club. Whatever. I didn’t want to spend the night there, and I didn’t want to borrow pajamas from the girl who lived there because we weren't friends and that would be weird.

None of this was a surprise. I had realized all the things that drove me nuts and that were problems long before we broke up. He had been working on some of them (although I never think he REALLY understood why his perpetual lateness made me furious), and others had gotten better and a few I’d just given up on as weren’t going to change (like the aforementioned lateness).

But what I’d forgotten was that he threatened to break up with me, that he’d said that he didn’t plan on doing it like that, but still. (He also told me that everything would be great if I would just change and not mind things.) So how long had he been thinking about breaking up with me? How many times was he so close to ending things, while I wandered around oblivious? He never really could deal with my emotions (I’m crazy, I fully admit it, but I will give you a step-by-step guide to deal with the crazy. Step 1? Don’t make me feel ignored when I’m upset. It will push me over the edge into insanely hurt/pissed off.) and that was around the time when he so nicely told me that I should have not gone out to dinner with his family, despite the fact that I’d used a vacation day and worn a really uncomfortable dress for hours to look nice for his work event that his family had come into town for. I believe his exact words were “It would have been SO much easier if you had just gone home.” I put on a lovely face for his family, but I think they knew he’d done something. Probably because he tried to put his arm around me and I shrugged it off. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know. Maybe those things should have been the clue that he wasn’t the one. Maybe I should have been the one to end it way back then.

Friendness

All the stuff has been swapped, thanks to LL and her willingness to drive me to get my chair in her big car. Which I totally appreciate. Although I did realize today that he still has my framed print of Monet’s Water Lillies. Totally not worth the effort to get it back, although I appreciate the effort my family put into it to get it to me. At first, I felt peaceful. Done. It was nice. All free and stuff. But yesterday I started edging back towards sad and then last night I dreamt about him. Stupid dreams. And so today I was totally sad and missing him.

I have been meaning to write, though, how this has all made me realize what great people I have surrounded myself with. I mean, the support and the loveliness… The immediate reaction of “what the hell did he do, and clearly you are too good for him.” I’d been having a whole “I don’t have any real friends” crisis not too long ago (It sucks how drama from college still effects me). And I still don’t have a best friend out here, but I have a lot of really cool people all around me in all locations. People who text or email or call or invite me places and make sure that I’m doing okay. It’s really meant a lot.
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Absenteeism

He wasn’t there. That’s right. He could not even manage to be at the house when I went to pick up my stuff. Oh, he insured that his roommate was there and could let me in. Or actually, he insured that if his roommate wasn’t there, they’d at least leave a key. But no. He “had to work late.” Which I might believe except that he was in charge of picking the day and time, and he usually knows a couple of days before when he is likely to have to work late. And he had everything all nicely stacked up in an obvious place, but not necessarily the easiest for loading, meaning he had to plan ahead enough to know that there was a decent chance he wasn’t going to be there. He did email me to let me know he “might not make it home in time,” but I didn’t get that email until after I’d already gone. It was not pleasant. Kind of like being punched in the stomach. Plus I couldn’t get one of my chairs in my car (I swear, my car fits a lot, but somehow the doors never quite open wide enough for anything mildly awkward), so I’m going to go by tonight with a friend with a bigger car and get it. I just told him to leave it on the porch, so there will be no real awkwardness and he can continue avoiding me as much as he wants. Which is mildly entertaining since HE was the one who wanted to stay friends and HE is the one who is pretty much killing any chance of that ever happening.

It has helped me to start feeling closure, though. Not as much maybe as if I’d actually seen him and seen how seeing him made me feel, but at the very least it has reminded me of all the times he put his job ahead of me. And I get that his job is important. But when he could never freaking tell them, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that at this time because I have other commitments,” it got old. It got old fast. Like when he couldn’t take me to the doctor’s office because he had to go to a meeting on his day off which he told me like the day before and I had to completely rearrange my plans to figure out how to get there. Or how when I did ask him to do something that was insanely important to me and so not optional and his response was, “I don’t know if I can miss work then.” Never mind that he managed to miss work for other people, like family or friends. Or how we could never make any kind of real plans, because “what if.” It made me feel pretty crappy and unimportant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we did get married and have kids whether or not he would ever be there for them. I mean, who wants to have to see their kids’ faces fall when yet again Daddy can’t be there for their performance or game or whatnot because he has to work late AS ALWAYS?

Declaring against declarations

Well, I go see him tonight. For the first time. I’m a little freaked out. Or a lot. It’s just to get my stuff and he’s being properly abashed about the fact that it has taken so long, but still. What am I going to feel? Am I going to hate him? Love him? Want to hit him with my car? I guess I’ll find out shortly…

I’ve also decided that I probably shouldn’t declare things. No more statements like “I don’t think x will happen to me,” or “I probably won’t do y.” (At least I hedge them, though. I’d make a good lawyer…) But the whole anger thing? I was all, “there is no reason to be angry,” which is still pretty true. Except that there doesn’t NEED to be a reason, which I didn’t know. It doesn’t matter why he broke up with me; it just matters that. he. did. And that pisses me off. He hurt me and that’s not cool. And I know all the logical reasons, I have all those thoughts running through my head, too, things like I wasn’t really happy these past several months, I was tired of trying, too, I had doubts that I never let myself think about or take seriously… But I don’t care about that stuff. If I have to lash out at him and hate him for a while, so be it. Though hating someone while loving them is very confusing. And exhausting.

And I have to go home and totally make sure that I look hot. MUST. WIN.

Two Become One, and One Becomes Two.

Whitney’s wedding was this weekend, and it was glorious. So perfect for them, although I seriously came close to hitting her for her worry over whether or not anyone was mad at her and if everyone was having a good time (Seriously, Whitney. They weren’t mad and they all had fun). It was so sweet seeing her and her new husband together. Neither of them are super PDA-y or anything, and she in particular can be kind of shy about showing emotions and stuff like that, but you could just see the happiness and love radiating. SO sweet. And it was also fun to spend time around her family, in part because it helps me to see why she is the way she is, and in part because I got to hear funny stories about her childhood. I gave a decent toast, although I forgot half the stuff I was going to say, and managed not to cry, either from sappy reasons or sad.

(It was kind of hard going back there; it’s where SB and I met and started dating and lots of the places have memories and echoes of him. Like we went to a winery that I LOVE and did a tasting and a tour which was awesome and it made me think of the time we went there and how I’d always planned on having their wine at our wedding and how his favorite wine from there is their soft red…)

The whole thing just reminded me of how much I adore Whitney. She really has taught me a lot about being a real person, how to accept me for myself, how to be full of joy. Basically, she = awesome. And she totally needs to move out here. I even saw an ad for a company trying to hire people like her husband…

There was kind of an interesting twist in that I made out with one of their friends after the reception. I know, it sounds horribly tacky and I was all “it has no appeal to me,” but… it happened anyways. I would feel guilty about the tacky aspect, but a. it’s Whitney and b. Whitney did everything she possibly could to cause it to happen (which is not to say she’s responsible, as I am a big girl and am in charge of my own actions). As for the having no appeal, it didn’t appeal to me, but it also intrigued me. I think I wanted to see what making out with someone randomly was like, and I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, I could be a part of that world if I so choose. I mean, it’s one thing to say you don’t want to do something when in all honesty the opportunity to do so never comes ups. It’s another to have done it and then to turn down opportunities to do so in the future. Plus I’d never even kissed anyone else. I wanted to know what it was like. I also was hoping that it would help me to fully realize that it’s over.

That said, I don’t think it was wise. And not because of anything to do with anything more than my emotional state. Because now I miss SB more than ever. I had gone days without crying over him, but now… I feel like I somehow cheated on him or something, which I know is ridiculous, but still. And, let’s be honest, that’s a part of the reason I did it. I wanted to do something that I knew would hurt him if he found out, and a part of me is plotting ways for him to find out. It’s not a noble part of me, but he hurt me and I want to hurt him back. I don’t care that I’m sure this is hard on him too. I just don’t care. He chose that pain. I want to cause pain that I’ve chosen to cause. Again, not a part of me I like, but I can’t deny that it’s there. Which makes me not want to care even more. I don’t LIKE wanting to hurt someone, I don’t like feeling hurt. I just want to not be in love with him anymore. And Saturday night just reminded me that I still am.

My Grown-Up Break-up List: Like Amy Grant, but Totally Not

Okay, so while I’m sure I don’t really hate him, I do right now in the unreasonable side of myself. I said earlier that there wasn’t really anything to be mad about, and logically there isn’t and I still recognize that. But I hurt both heartwise and pridewise and it’s his fault in that he initiated and, as Allison (CW’s friend, who is AWE-SOME) said, he clearly did not recognize the full awesomeness that is me because otherwise he never could have left. So I’m okay with hating him for right now, in the recognition that it will fade, too, and then I can just remember my time with him fondly and without anger or sadness. And I am so glad that I didn’t break up with him. I know there is the whole pride thing of him choosing actively to not be with me, and that sucks, but will be remedied if and when I win the break-up. Whereas I can freely hate him and I don’t have to second guess myself because there is nothing to second guess. And I don’t feel embarrassed because I didn’t do anything like beg or whatnot. And I am free to write the following rather cruel list, which I may or may not still want later in life, but which currently contains my hopes for him.

I hope the next several relationships are crap for him. I want them to be empty and annoying and meaningless with dumb girls who have nothing interesting to say and who contribute nothing to the general population. Either that or they can be super smart, but also super mean, the kind who feel the need to prove that they are better than everyone else and who can’t be supportive. I want this to last at least a couple of years, or until after I have married someone else, preferably someone hotter than he is.

I hope (and this is particularly vicious) that at his happiest moments, I flicker through his head and make him wonder “what if.” I always wanted to be someone’s one regret. So this one is evil, but unsurprising.

I hope his friends and family all gossip about how letting me go was a huge mistake, and aren’t really satisfied with her when he does find someone else.

I want him, before he embarks upon the miserable dating life mentioned above, to not even be able to find anyone he wants to ask out. A long while of absolutely no new person in his life.

I’m sure there are more things I could wish, for him to not be able to buy a place, to not get his promotion at work, etc., but I don’t really wish for those things. Just the bad things around the personal stuff.

Feeling small

So I FINALLY heard from him this morning. I say finally because I’ve been trying and trying and trying to get a hold of him so I could get my stuff. I was totally pissed off and thinking about trying to break in or just show up and hope that someone was there and taking what I cared about and saying screw the rest. And then I called him. And he screened me, proving that he was indeed in town and by his phone and therefore had gotten my 23587923457 texts, voicemails, and emails, saying that it was really important for me to get my stuff, that not having my stuff was making things harder on me. Besides, one of the things he has is my nightstand. Currently, all my nightstand-y things are sitting on my desk chair, which has wheels and is rather precarious. It’s making it harder for me to get my room all situated, not having all of my furniture. So I got REALLY pissed off and texted him that he was being a jerk and that I didn’t get it.

Then, after again not really sleeping all night (second night in a row. yay.), I get a text 20 minutes before I have to get up that he was out of town on another trip. Which makes me feel like I am this big. Not because I feel guilty for how I reacted (although I probably could have not texted his friend. I don’t want to bring his friends into any of this, they don’t need to be in any of this, but I was trying to cover my bases. Plus I was really mad.), because either way he could have told me he was going back out of town. Because even if we aren’t together, that’s not how you should treat someone you supposedly care about. It’s not like texting someone to say, “hey, I know I have your stuff and you probably want it back, but I have to go out of town again” takes several hours and there is no way that you have time to do it. Unless you text REALLY slowly.

But it makes me feel so tiny because how much then could he have been thinking about me? To not really care how it was going to make me feel. I’m sure wherever he was had internet access. Did he not get my emails, was he ignoring them, did he just not care enough to check? What does it say that he couldn’t even be bothered to let me know it was going to be a couple of weeks more before I’d hear from him again? No answer to that question does anything but hurt me, anything but make me feel stupid for caring.

He’s supposed to email me today. (Which also pisses me off. I mean, seriously. I’m not calling to chat. You’d think by this point we could actually talk on the phone.) I have the feeling he’s probably pissed (unrightfully, I feel), so who knows what that email will say. Probably just logistics.

Not ready

I hate it when self-help books are right. Especially slightly cheesy ones. One of the break-up ones I got keeps telling me that "The head gets over things faster than the heart. Your head will be telling you to move on long before you're actually ready to." Which has totally been me the past few days. A part of me is all, "OMG, GET OUT AND DATE BOYS, NOW!!!!!" I go to happy hours and parties and want to meet someone immediately and be all happy again, and then am sad when it doesn't happen. Seriously? Self? Shut up. Of course I haven't met anyone. I am so not ready to meet someone. If I did meet someone, I'd be awful and a mess and that's not something I want to do to whomever I dated. Besides the fact that I don't think it would actually make me feel any better. Although a part of me wants to do it just to be mean to him. All, "oh, I've already moved on. What? You mean you haven't? Well, that's awkward." Of course a part of that attitude could come from the frustration of me wanting to get my stuff back because I need that closure, and not having heard from him. Though I'm not 100% sure he's in the country. Still, though. I can't think about him calling or about seeing him. I just can't. I need to get my stuff and work on other stuff.

It doesn't help that I'm TIRED of feeling like this. I want to be over it. I want to be happy. I'm bored with being sad (not that that stops me from being sad). I think about calling people and chatting, but then I think about the fact that no one wants to hear about this kind of stuff that often. And the few people who cross my minds are the ones who are insanely busy. I don't want to put all that on them. Not that they wouldn't be happy for me to, but...

Just break my rib already.

I’ve been told that every day gets easier. In some ways, I can see why you’d say that. More survivable. But at the same time, I’d say that from my current vantage point (which clearly isn’t very vantage, since I’m right smack in the middle), it’s not better, it’s just different. Before I kept swinging from agonizing pain to a kind of forgetful numbness. The agonizing pain was balanced by the numbness, giving me breathing time.

And now? Now, the pain isn’t so much like being stabbed with a rusty sword, but more having a broken rib. It’s a constant sadness, a constant melancholy of missingness (I don’t care that it’s not a word. I’m making it one). The constant tearing up, rather than violent sobbing. I just can’t accept that he is going to be out of my life for good. And now is when little things reminding me of him has started bothering me…

It doesn’t help that I’m a couple kind of girl. I liked being in a couple. I liked the comfort and the companionship and the warmth. I can be on my own; I know that, and I know there are good things about being single. But I’m not the kind of girl to hook up, to go out with lots of guys at once. Honestly, I’m hoping that I meet a guy I want to again be in a couple with. Maybe not the next few guys I date, but after that? That’s the thing that sucks. For years, I wasn’t ready to get married. I felt too young, too immature, too busy trying to figure out who I am. And now, I feel ready. Which just sucks, and is another reason why I’m annoyed with God. (Not in any kind of faith-damaging way. More in a “this really sucks, you’d better have something amazing waiting for me out there, and there had better be a purpose for all this, or else I’m going to be pissed off” way.)

Valley

I think I feel even sadder than before. Not in the sheer shock, I can hardly believe this is happening, agonizy way, but just legitimate sadness. Depression, even. I no longer break out into horrible sobs, but instead am constantly near tearing up, usually over small things. A song. A thought. A strip mall. I saw a picture of us from when he visited me and we went to Wales. And the sheer happiness in that picture. You could see how happy we were. And that was even after a week of oppressive togetherness (I don't do well with oppressive togetherness. I tend to get cranky), and the least planned, most frustrating trip to get to Wales. I miss that. I miss it SO much. And that gets me thinking about other things I miss. I miss when he wasn't stressed out. He could make me laugh so easily. He had no embarrassment, no worries about looking stupid. He made me take myself less seriously (I laugh at myself pretty easily, but I like having control of how other people think of me). He would have done anything for me, anything to make me happy. What happened to that? How did it just vanish? I know we had our problems, but every relationship does. When did he stop loving me like that? It's getting very hard not to take it personally. Which sounds stupid, I know. How could anything be more personal than breaking up. But the thing is. The thing is we had something special. Something great. I loved him and he loved me. He could never keep it inside. I remember once, at his friend's wedding, we were chatting with another friend. And all of a sudden, he just hugged me and said, "I love this woman."He used to do things like that all the time. Why did he stop loving me that much??? Have I changed? Am I less loveable, at least to him? I just don't understand what happened.

What becomes

I went home for the weekend, a part of the reason why I haven’t updated. Going home was… nice. I mean, in some ways it was completely lovely. And it was nice to have food to eat without effort (who knew getting food could be such an effort?), and it was nice to be surrounded by people and it was nice to be somewhere safe. Somewhere with very few associations (he never visited my parent’s new house). But. At the same time, it allowed me to foster my delusions. Since I’m not used to seeing him there, it was easy for me to pretend like we hadn’t broken up. Like I should have a text message or a voicemail from him at night.

I did get to see Haley, one of my friends from high school who is going through something similar. It was nice to have the support, although we eventually wound up talking religion-stuff, and I’m a little jealous of her type of faith. Because she keeps getting confirmations from people that this is the right thing, that things will be okay… I mean, confirmation from strangers, not people just saying that things will be fine. I don’t think I’m really going to ever have that kind of faith. Not that hers is better or worse; I just think I’m always going to have to struggle for those things, that God is not going to provide me the reassurance I want, but instead will force me to dig deeper into myself and become stronger. It would be nice, though…

The other reason for no updates is much less exciting. I don’t want to. Not that I don’t want to, but anything that takes energy is apparently beyond me right now. Doing minor activities (sending short emails, making soup for dinner, calling someone on the phone, making plans) just takes too much effort. I’d really just like to curl up on the couch and hibernate there for the next few months. Though I’m still not sleeping (will have to get some valerian pills, per whit’s suggestion), and so sitting there might remind me of the no sleep and therefore depress me. Though what that source of depression would really change, I don’t know.

Unwell

I actually thought about writing poetry today. Then I thought about reading poetry about such situations, googled it, and quickly realized that 98% of what came up was written by some angsty teen who is clearly not that good at writing poetry. (Makes me think I should go back and reread the poetry I wrote for SB. Too bad he’s got the only collected copy. Oh well.)

I don’t feel good. Not just emotionally, but physically. I think I might be getting sick. I kind of hope I’m getting sick; it’s a good distraction. Though I’m sure the not sleeping very well still isn’t helping. Nothing seems to help. I still wake up in the middle of the night, staring blankly into space and thinking about stuff. And of course, feeling terrified.

I did start reading my other book. Apparently I’m supposed to feel angry, although that is the emotion most women repress most. (The four you are supposed to be feeling are sadness, anger, fear, and sorrow. I’m not 100% sure of what the actual differences between sadness and sorrow are; I mean, I could posit guesses, but it seems like a fine line.) I hate being like most women. And I’m not angry, at least not at him. So I’m working on it. I’m kind of angry about the situation, I’m angry at the Today Show for having a special on today about why people get married, I’m angry at people getting married or who are married, I’m angry at his work, I’m angry with God for letting me fool myself into thinking it was going to last (I prayed about it. I did. Bunches of times. And every time, I got the same answer. Or thought I got the same answer. And now I get nothing.), I’m angry with myself for staying in crap job for too long. I’m kind of angry at him for giving up, but it’s a reaction that doesn’t last long and not because I’m suppressing it, but more because I understand and it’s hard to stay angry when you understand. So maybe I am angry, but it’s more of a frustration than anger. The rest, I’ve clearly got going on.

I also am not doing so well at school. I’m not doing badly, but definitely half-assing it. I haven’t finished all the articles for either of my classes this week (one was Tuesday, the other’s tonight), I can’t think. Trying to come up with analysis just isn’t happening. And I can’t seem to pull myself away from the TV long enough to concentrate on anything. I’m supposed to have a tentative reading list for my thesis advisor. I don’t. I can’t even pick out the main authors I want to write on…

Interpretations

So I mentioned yesterday that he texted me. I didn’t think much of it at the time; blah, blah, blah, he was just telling me that he was going out of the country and therefore would not be contacting me about my furniture until he got back. But that’s not actually what he said. I was telling Marie about it last night, gave her the textish of what he said, and her immediate response was, “Well, that’s vague and open to lots of interpretation and really not helpful.” Which is true. The text basically was “Leaving on my trip. Hope you’re having a good week (HA!), I miss you, and I’ll talk to you when I get back.” (I added the “ha.” He is not mocking my pain.) But in my usual tendency to wait forever before having a reaction to stuff, I last night kept thinking about it. What exactly does he want to talk about? I see three possibilities:

Strictly logistics. How to get my stuff back, if he’s going to buy the furniture he always said he was going to, etc, etc.
Mainly logistics, with a sort of post-partum discussion, including something on his part about how “we can be friends” (again with the ha! Maybe in like a year, but…).
No logistics, because he has realized that he has made a huge mistake and desperately wants me back. This seems the most unlikely. And the sad thing is, if he really meant that he wanted to be back with me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. If he just wants to get back together, though, because this sucks and hurts and everything, it’d be a no go. I really would rather get this over with now than go back with him only to be here again in a couple of months because he again “can’t see a future with me.”

I did manage to finish the fluffier of the two books I bought yesterday. It was… okay. Not hugely helpful, but entertaining. And it did help me make friends with the local homeless guy outside of Starbucks, who stopped me and then wished that he had had that book, because then he wouldn’t be in the straights that he is. He was nice. I hope he does okay.

I also keep dreaming about SB. I don’t approve. It makes it hard for me to know deep down that he’s not mine anymore…

Downs and Downs

I can’t take the mood swings. Honestly. I am somewhat used to being mood-swingy, but nothing like this (I was going to say that I can make up the word “mood-swingy” if I want to, but Word recognizes it). Usually mild mood swings, or swings from normal into irritability. Not all over the map and not for this long.

I did go out and by a couple of books today. Because that’s what I do. I don’t know how to fix something (ie. me or how I’m feeling or whatnot), I buy a book about it. They didn’t have the book I wanted, but I bought a couple of others and might venture out to Borders to get the original. (seriously, B&N. EVERY Borders in the area has a book, and you can’t be bothered to carry it?!) One I bought because the first chapter is all about mood swings. As in, you might be feeling kind of okay for like one minute, might start thinking of some of the things you’ll get to do now, but then will spontaneously erupt into massive sobbing and heartbreak. Which seems to be par for the course for me right now. I thought the other day that I was feeling somewhat like doing stuff, so I decided to clean because my apartment is rather messy and I’m tired of having to avoid things on the floor. That led to me putting away stuff he had given me, which led to massive depression and crying, which led to me returning to my couch and watching 324789 more hours of TV. And that was all within 10 minutes. I only got through a song and a half on my cleaning music.

Then I’ve been pretty constantly terrified for no discernable reason. He just texted me to let me know that he’s leaving on a business trip, and that terrifies me (again for no discernable reason). Except that it’s contact with him and I don’t know what that means. He says we’ll talk when he gets back, and that scares me. I don’t know how to handle talking to him. I know I don’t have to talk to him when he gets back, but I’ll have to talk to him eventually, if only to see if he wants to buy some stuff he was going to before and to figure out how to exchange stuff. (Ah, and now we are back to the familiar ground of near tears.)

And I say I want this all to be over, but that’s not entirely true either. Because once it’s done, it’s really done. It will really be over. And I don’t know how to deal with that.

Drowning

I woke up this morning, terrified. Of course, a part of that might be because I was dreaming that I was wandering outside around a pool and there was all this water and Cassie was following me and then she vanished into the pool and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to save her. It was really deep pool and she was sitting at the bottom, looking at me, all "Please help me." But as soon as I woke up, I petted her (she was sleeping on a book next to me), and then was scared. Scared about not having him in my life. Scared about losing him and having him move on and never getting him back. I miss him. I want him back. I want him to call and say that he wants to be with me and... And instead he's going to move on and meet other people and I don't want that.

Fighting

I wish he had fought for me. I understand why... no, no, I don't. What happened? I think back a few years ago, and he loved me so much. And now? Why won't he fight for me? I fought for him. I would still have, but it doesn't make sense. I'd been saying that I needed a Barney (Barney teaches Marshall how to date again), and now after seeing the episode where Barney goes to visit Lily in San Francisco and tells her she is being stupid and Marshall is great, I think I need a Barney even more. I hope that his next few relationships are empty and he realizes that he let something amazing go. It's hard for me to not start to feel bad about myself. I'm resisting it, but a part of me keeps trying to think that if I had been better, this wouldn't have happened. I mean, my main unhappiness in the relationship was that he started pulling away and wasn't as loving as he was before. If he still loved me like that...

Wilted

I wish I could fight for him. I do and I would in a heartbeat. But how can I? How can I fight someone who so nicely and sweetly looked at me, and said, "sorry, but no thanks. I can't see a future." How can I respect myself, how can I deal with that feeling of knowing that he stayed with me out of pity? But then... I don't know. I feel like eventually he should come to his senses, and that when he does, he'll come running back. Would I take him back? Right now, the answer would unequivocally be yes. Well, it would depend on how he put it. I mean, if he's coming back to avoid the pain we're both going through, that wouldn't be enough. If he came back because he realized he was making a monumental mistake and now knew that he should be with me and he would never find anyone better for him, then it would be easy.

I miss him so freaking insanely much and hate all of this. I feel so impotent. There isn't anything I can do. All I can do is keep going, get dressed every day, try to eat somewhat regularly, get some sleep, and make sure I have my regular cries. I can't deal with trying to change my entire world view, my life plan. I have been a part of an "us," a "we" for so long. And I liked that. I love him and I loved being in a relationship with him. Now I am a lonely "I." He was my support system, and a part of all of my plans. I could count on him. It was safe and comfortable and lovely. It's not just the future, though. It was the past. All the shared moments, the "remember whens" and now? Now I have to say those things to myself. It's all gone now. How do I manage this? I've now been to two parties and been out a couple of times, and all the time it's not fun for me. He's still there, still peeking through all my thoughts, making me wish that I were with him.

I did get a beautiful (if belated) purse from misskate, and that made me smile. Plus she has loaned me some more distracting tv, thoroughly necessary since I'm almost through all my "How I Met Your Mother...."

Day Five

I didn't mention, but my awesome roommate dropped out. It sucks for me, but more for her because she dropped out because she moved home because of parental health problems. It' s just one more little added stress. Plus I was actually looking forward to moving in with her...

I'm exhausted. I'm not really sleeping well, I'm not really eating well. I want to eat well; I'm really hungry, but eating is too much effort and every time I eat, I feel sick. I miss him SO freaking much, it's ridiculous. And we emailed yesterday, which I can't decide how I feel about it. It was like 98% logistics, but it was still that connection which I so desperately want. But the fact that I want it so desperately is a sign that I probably shouldn't have it. Especially since even that short email reignited all my ridiculous fantasies about getting back together. Which I know isn't wise, because he had things to work out and clearly wasn't really able to work them out with me in the picture. And writing seems to be too much effort, too, even though it really helps. I think I might be getting towards the depressed stage. wee...

I have decided that there seems to be a common symptom. Everyone I know who has been with the same person since college seems to have this twinge of regret. Not that they are with the person they are with, since I always said with SB that I didn't need to be with other people to know that what we had was great. It's more a recognition that while dating sucks, parts of it do have their appeal, like the firsts and whatnot. If you marry your first serious SO, you miss out on getting those other firsts more times. Not that that in any way counteracts all the other good parts of being in those solid relationships, and not that it's really a true regret. More of a wistful acknowledgement.

Day 3

I have no patience. I want to be further along with my whole getting over this process. See, I really don't like being upset. I really don't like crying. I really don't like all of this.

But I looked up the stages of grief, and I think I'm thoroughly in denial. Which is the first freaking stage. (Okay, I know it's only been a couple of days, and to be further would be ridiculous, but I really just want this all done with.) I knew I was in denial, partly because I keep thinking I'll see him tonight when he gets off work and partly because I keep concocting all these fantasies where he comes running back to me with roses and candy and apologies, talking about how crazy he was and how much he loves me and how he can't live without me. I know that's not how it'll happen, but I've always been like this. When I was little and got in a fight with my parents, I would storm off to my room and imagine that they were going out and buying lots of toys for me to make me feel better. Every time I came out of my room after one of these incidents, I was disappointed. And a couple of years ago maybe he would have done something grand and romantic. But I don't think he will now.

It's hard for me to hold on to the fact that things haven't been good for a while. They haven't been bad exactly, just kind of mediocre. And the thought of ending things had passed through my mind occasionally the past few months. But now, I just keep thinking back on all of the good times. And we did have lots of good times. Lots and lots and lots.

It was nice to talk to Haley yesterday. Her family is my role model for two reasons. 1. She is going through something very similar, although she's a month in and was the one who initiated. 2. Her sisters both went through painful break-ups (they both called off weddings), and are now both happily married. Her advice is to renember as much as possible the bad times, use them to not call. (The temptation is SO strong.)

Things I've learned so far

A. My knitting group really is awesome. They had an impromptu meeting for me last night, bought me a muffin and tea and hot chocolate, and distracted me for the night. It was pretty much just what I needed.

B. My mom doesn't really know how to deal with this stuff. It doesn't surprise me; my family tends not to really talk about things like heartbreak or relationships or stuff like that. Plus, she and my dad started dating in high school, so she hasn't had a huge amount of personal experience in this. And I haven't cried in front of any family for as long as I can remember, outside of movie-related tearing up. My dad, though, surprisingly seems better. He wrote me a really sweet email about how I will be okay, and how when I was little and fell off my bike, I would always bounce right up and make a snarky comment. (He didn't use the word snarky, but it was implied.) I'm going home next weekend, so we'll see how things go.

C. People understand and want to help, but a lot don't know how to handle it. (Of course, I don't even know how to handle it, so...) I am very anti-talking about it right now, mainly because it makes me cry and I don't like talking and crying. Thus I am blogging instead (CW will finally get her posts on a regular basis). Plus writing helps, and it has been shown that writing out bad memories or events gets them out of your head. But the support has been really nice. It makes me cry, but it's been nice.

D. Sleeping pills are kind of awesome and kind of not. Awesome because I hate night. I sit there and think and try to sleep and think some more. A sleeping pill (my first was last night) helps shut down the thinking, even if it didn't send me right to sleep. Kind of not because I was a bit out of it for the first couple of hours of the day. I'm not really ready to blame this on the pill; afterall, I haven't really been eating enough (I'm trying, I'm starving, but when I eat, I feel like I'm going to throw up. I think I may have to try to drink all my meals for a while, and no, not alcoholic meals. But Slim Fasts and milkshakes.), and there are good reasons for me to feel braindead.

E. I am probably depending entirely too much on How I Met Your Mother. But I'm at the part now where Lily and Marshall break up. And I feel very much like Marshall. So watching him mourn and cry and be all miserable and then get through it makes me feel like there is hope. And watching Barney teach him how to date... was entertaining and again hopeful. And I know he and Lily wind up back together, and a part of me totally hopes that happens. Not now (well, I'd love it now, but I don't know that that would be wise), but eventually. Because it's not like we broke up because we weren't compatible or didn't love each other. We both had issues and those issues strangled things a bit. I feel like I've worked through a lot of mine, but SB has some things he needs to figure out. And he can probably do that better on his own. That's going to take time, and I'm still going to have to go through this. I recognize that, but... maybe? Later? I know that that might be a bad hope to hold on to. And I'm going to try not to. Because if things don't work out like that and he winds up with someone else, then I'm going to be pretty upset when that happens. Especially if I'm not with someone else then. Whereas if it does happen and I'm not expecting it, there is no added pain. It's just so hard to completely readjust your hopes and plans and thoughts and future... He was kind of a stabalizing factor in all that, and now? Now everything's all open. Which could eventually be exciting, or maybe not, or whatever, but right now? Right now, it's terrifying.

One

This is awful. Honest to God, probably the worst experience of my whole life. Being left that first day at college is the only thing that I can think of that comes close. I don't know what to do. I try and distract myself with tv, I tried to go out in the real world, hoping that would help. But everything reminds me of him. Even stupid McDonalds, because he really likes McDonalds and would sometimes bring me their cinnamon rolls and sweet tea in the morning. Everything has him in it. Even Cassie reminds me (who right now is chewing on something. I don't know what. She's not near any food and seems to be becoming like a cow who chews its cud). And I want to do nothing more than call him up and beg him to come back and let everything be back the way it was.

But I can't. Because his reasoning last night rings truer than most of what he's said to me for the past few months. That he loves me and thinks I'm wonderful and amazing and that maybe for a while he was still mad at me for treating him like crap when i was in crap job, but now he's not. And he still doesn't see a future for us. The thing that sucks is that I do. I mean, things haven't been great for a while. We started to get them back, and then his work hours picked up and it felt like we were in a holding pattern. and it hurt. I remembered how loving he used to be and could tell that he wasn't acting the same. That, as hard as he was trying, he was pulling away. Not being as considerate as he had been. But I still think we could get over that.

But not if he's not in it. I can't keep putting myself through dating someone who is constantly doubting our relationship. I deserve more, and I know that. He said that he saw how his behavior was hurting me and hurting him. And it was. Not as much as this is, though. He claims we can stay friends, that he still wants to support me. And he's my best friend and my other best friend is in Indiana, and I want to still have his support. But I just don't see how that will work. "Oh, well, we just won't tell each other details of our new relationships, when we get in them." He was mine for nearly six years. How can I sit and watch him fall in love with someone else? How can he watch me?

And I am so TERRIFIED. I wasn't good at the high school dating scene, the college dating scene. I haven't been single for years. I like being a part of a couple. I want to settle down, get married, have kids (eventually). I don't want to date and meet skeazy guys who try to get too far too fast. I don't know how to meet guys, much less nice guys. And I sure as hell hate being alone like this. (Whit, not a call for you to come out. I'd still feel alone.)

I just hope I can make it through this. People keep telling me I will. I'm trying to pray and have faith and all that jazz, but right now? Right now, I'd be happiest if he'd just come back.

All By Myself...

It's over. I don't know what else to say. SB and I broke up tonight... Nearly six years and now. Nothing. I feel like I've been hit over the head.

Roomy goodness

I [heart] Whitney. Talking to her always makes me laugh and smile and feel good, especially when I’m feeling neurotic. And her wedding is going to be the coolest, freaking awesome-est awesomeness ever. It’s going to rock.

And I cannot believe how quickly everything has fallen into place. That’s right. I officially have a roommate. Well, I don’t have any money or signed paper or anything, but I have offered and she has accepted and things are moving forward. She came over yesterday night, which, btw, would be the time the bus is running late, meaning she got there about 1.3 minutes before I did, and I was all sweaty and gross. And we talked for forever, she was very enthusiastic, she’s all into books… And now I don’t know what to do with myself, mentally and emotionally, at least. Especially since I seem to have my thesis advisors knocked out, too. Although I’m still waiting on one to confirm… But yes, so now my mind has nothing to do and is creating problems where they’re not. Or at least where I think they’re not. I can’t imagine why there would be problems. I think my brain needs to take a break and can’t quite figure out how.

Cat Scratch Fever; or a mean way to wake up

I cannot WAIT to get some coffee. Weird statement, I know, but this whole not-having-a-roommate thing is really stressing me out, so I didn’t sleep well last night, didn’t get coffee on the way into work (the Starbucks closest and on the way flooded this weekend), and just would like the warmy, caffeine-y goodness. Plus Cassie, who was being really good but now has started being wild and doing stuff she knows she not supposed to (I think she’s reading my stress), decided to do this thing she sometimes does where she gets startled and starts to jump on something and then instead shoves off of it to go hide. Which is usually entertaining except last night she decided to do it at 4:30am. And the thing she was catapulting off of was my back, my back which was bare because my shirt had ridden up due to my tossing. My back, which is now covered in several pretty wicked cat scratches. We were not amused.

So yes. Still no roommate. Working on it. I’m showing it to a trio of people in the next couple of days and am crossing my fingers (HARD) that one of them works out. I have high hopes for the girl who is supposed to come tonight. She seems very enthusiastic and similar. Plus she has a broken hand, which seems somehow like destiny (why, I don’t know, except my sister-in-law’s brother broke both his hands upon moving to DC and that was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen).

Poor SB is taking the brunt of my stress, although my mom has gotten some whiney calls. SB really doesn’t need additional stress (he’s still working 80ish hours a week), but that’s what he gets. Especially since he has stolen my dresser and has promised to buy me a new one, but can’t get off work long enough to go with me to IKEA. It was kind of funny, when I found out my previous near-roommate was backing out SO last minute it wasn’t really last minute at all, but first minute of another stage, I had a whole breakdown. He promptly blamed himself, I yelled at him for that, and then sat there, upset for a while (the funny part is coming). So we’re watching the news, I’m sniffling, and then some girl is interviewed for something and her name is Princess. And I cried harder, because someone actually named their daughter Princess. (Picture it. I’m sitting there, crying and SB is all worried and I’m like, “They named their daughter PRINCESS?!?! It makes me laugh, anyways.)

On the positive side, I think my advisors are all nailed down for theses stuff. I did finally hear back from one professor who had responded to my email a while back, but he is too late (unless my second reader doesn't confirm. In which case, he is back on.)

And the housing woes continue

So the move is (mostly) complete. I say mostly, because while I am moved in (but not unpacked), the girl I thought was going to be my roommate backed out two days ago. And so now I am left scrambling, although a loverly girl from my knitting group is helping out and her friend might be interested. Seriously. That group is AWESOME. I [heart] them.

(Although I do wonder at some of the stronger friendships in the group. They seem… somewhat mismatched. Not that it is at ALL any of my business or whatnot. It’s just interesting to watch.)

Anyways, so the stress I thought would abate so far has not. Which I believe is the cause for me falling apart. My foot has started hurting. Not my right foot. That would make sense. That was the foot I hurt last year in the horror of last year’s move (When am I going to have a move without drama and big pieces suddenly falling apart????), and so I occasionally still have problems with it. But no. This time my left foot has decided to hurt. I don’t know why. I kind of hit it with a box, but I don’t think it was hard enough to do any real damage.

And with the start of school… it’s piling up on me, all that I have to do. Cassie, on the other hand, seems to have reentered a stress-free life. The past month or so stressed her out (I think. She is a cat. It can be hard to tell.) as people moved in and out and one of those people brought a dog. But now she runs around, grooms her tunnel, lays sprawled out on the floor… Makes me a bit jealous, actually.

The one good thing is that I do really like my new place. My room, for one, is giant and so I don’t feel claustrophobic at all. And the whole place is full of light and it’s cozy and nice. And everyone I’ve met at the complex has been so friendly, it’s a little ridiculous. The building manager (an older retiree who just does this because he likes it) seems to know everyone around and was giving me tips on who would hook me up because we live in the same place, who could give me advice on bike routes where I won’t die (Seriously, me on a bike in 6 lanes of traffic=death in my mind), and he called me a model to someone on the phone when I walked in. Just adorable.

Now if only I wasn’t losing money by the day by paying double rent…

Watching from the Outside

I need a vacation. I never realized how stressful it is having an SO who is completely stressed out. Payback, I guess, for the many months SB had to deal with me being all stressed out, what with not having a place to move into last year to being in jobs I hated for entirely too long. Now SB is going nuts working 70-80 hours a week these past couple of weeks after working 50-60 for the past 6 or so months. At least I understand how crappy stress can be. But it’s hard hanging out with someone who is always exhausted or snippy or exhausted and snippy and not wanting to decide anything because it’s just too hard to think… He can’t ever quite relax, so I can’t ever quite relax. I wish we could just go away somewhere for a weekend, but he has to work at least one day each weekend and is a bit cheap, so really not likely.

As for just me, school is getting ready to start. I’m still working on the advisor thing, since apparently everyone post-colonial is on sabbatical this fall. Classes start next week (Thursday for me), and I’ve got mixed feelings. On the one hand, grad school is HARD. On the other, I’m bored. I need some intellectual activity, even though I’m aware that I’ll quickly be swamped.

I’m also heading rapidly for my move. Still feeling out prospective roommates, although the one I met with last night might be a go. It’s been a little weird, since I’m not actually in the apartment yet and have to meet them at coffee shops. Feels a little like a blind date each time. I’m going to get boxes tonight, though, for the packing, which totally excites me. I like packing. I like packing a lot. Well, as least the first, easy parts of packing like books and desks and whatnot. The miscellaneous odds and ends, I’m less fond of. Oooh. Which reminds me, I should put all the stuff I’ll need for my classes in my backpack, so I don’t pack them up and then have to dig for hours to find them. And I am totally ready to be done with this house. It has been a not-so-good experience that I am all to ready to put behind me. I thought the new roommates for the last month might help, but they only mildly do, mainly because it’s a weird situation where one of the subleters is taking over the lease, and so is ready to take over the house. The house full of my stuff. Which I’d be happy to pack up, but I can’t pack up the kitchen until he starts to unpack his stuff, so we’ll have plates and silverware. Since we’ve been without a microwave for over a week now and since he has one sitting in his car but is too lazy to move it inside, I’m not really holding my breath. (I have asked him to move it inside. It is kind of one of my main things I use in the kitchen. But whatever.)

Girl Crush

I appear to be in crush mode… BUT in an unusual turn of events (or perhaps not, given my dating status), my crushes seem to all be girl crushes. For those of you not cool enough to know the term (and really, if you are that uncool, why are you reading such an awesome blog), a girl crush is a completely non-romantic, non-sexual “OMG, YOU ARE AWESOME, PLEASE BE MY BFF FOREVER AND EVER!!!!!” type thing.

Some of my current crushy state I think can be due to a couple of things. One, SB has been working crazy hours for the past several months (60 or so), which has now added up to about 80 in the past couple of weeks. We are hoping things will calm down. But this has reemphasized my need for more and better friends around the area, as spending good portions of time by myself is good for me, but spending tons of time by myself just gets a little maudlin.

Two would be my knitting group. I’ve been going about a month or so now, and they are awesome. Some more awesome than others, but that’s the way all groups are. So their awesomeness=a couple of girl crushes for me.

Third, I’m looking for a roommate, and have met at least one completely fun girl who is Irish and sings and is totally cool. I’m not sure the whole roommate thing is going to definitely work out with her (not because of personality stuff, but logistic stuff such as her landlady being a jerk and perhaps not letting her out of her lease without the full 60 day notice thing), but I totally want to be friends with her. We are already friends on facebook. (Which reminds me. I met another lovely girl on the roommate search which the situation fell through but she might join the knitting group, and I don’t think I ever friended her on facebook. Or for that matter, my knitting group members. I could have like 15 more friends in a few minutes!)

Head Bored

I’m bored. Being bored is not a good thing for me. Being bored means I don’t do the small amount of work that I actually have. It means I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep. Or watch tv. But instead I am being proactive (not really proactive, but at least mildly active) and writing a blog post instead.

So I had my first ever cavity filled. Yes, I proudly made it 25 years without a true cavity, only to be brought down by my “groovy teeth.” Seriously. That’s how one of my former dentists described them (he then looked a little annoyed when I laughed). I believe it was the same tooth that I had sealed several years ago, not because I had a cavity, but because it seemed probable that I’d get one. So my guess on the whole thing is that the filling fell out, allowing nasty bacteria and whatnot to creep inside and cause a wee cavity. I also totally blame my former coworker, who claimed the cheapest dental insurance we could get was one that would cost like $100 a month, and who, as it was discovered after I left, was completely wrong and off by two decimal points ($1.00 a month, not $100). So I didn’t get my teeth cleaned for a few years, and look what happened. It was, I’m assuming, one of the easiest, most painless cavity fillings ever, though, since I was literally out of there in under a half hour. Plus the dentist thanked me for being such a good patient. (I immediately thought “well-paying,” since he’s made lots of money off of me in the past month, but managed to keep my sarcastic mouth closed.) They are ridiculously nice there, which makes me feel less stupid for picking a dentist on the other end of town from my apartment.

I also started, or tried to start, a new knitting project last night. I cast on 3 (or maybe 4) times, and still got to the same point every time only to find that I somehow was one stitch short. I reread the pattern, thought there was an error, went online, was surprised no one else saw the error, reread the pattern again and realized that it somehow was just me. So the plan is to now not try to cast on a lace pattern while exhausted. Particularly not after drinking my sleepy tea, which contains valerian and has a warning against operating heavy machinery. Maybe they should have an expanded warning for knitters. After all, I could have gotten insanely frustrated and… I don’t know… collapsed in a ball on my bed, falling asleep on the knitting needles which then could somehow accidentally stab me, and the sleepy tea would keep me asleep while I slowly bled to death. Or not. Instead, I gave up, and moved back to my sweater, which will hopefully be done by the time it cools off enough to be able to wear it. It’s a cotton yarn, so that shouldn’t be TOO long away. I might try to finish it as a part of the knitting Olympics, but I might just be lazy and not do something. Or I could cast on another project I have in my mind and a timeline for…

Homelessness (or not)

So… yeah, it’s been a while. It’s not that I don’t love you, dear readers (all 5 of you…), it’s that most of the stuff I’ve been thinking about, I don’t particularly want to post about, for a wide variety of reasons ranging from I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings to putting all my insecurities on the internets for all to read makes me fell, well, insecure. Plus the other stuff, which would have been HIGHLY entertaining, let me tell you. Just takes too much energy to write.

BUT. The discovery of a Robin McKinley blog has reawakened me. I don’t know why. But it has. I adore Robin McKinley. Blue Sword=awesomeness. I was a tiny bit disappointed in Sunshine, but have high hopes for her new book. Plus her writing is entertaining AND we totally need to be bff’s and go horseback riding and everything. I’m adding her to my list of celebrities (to me) who are meant to be my soul mates and mentors and it shall happen!!! (Lauren Graham is the other. I wrote a post about that, but I’m too lazy to find the link. Deal.) I was abashed to discover that she wrote Beauty, her breakout novel, at 25. Which means I only have 8 months to write a book and get published in order to not feel inadequate. A GOOD book, unlike my other, craptastic and not worthy of ever seeing the light of day, NaNoWriMo book.

I also discovered one of my favorite people in my new knitting group has a blog, which seems highly entertaining. She somehow manages to write exactly how she talks. Even when I wasn’t sure it was her, I was pretty sure that it was her, just because of the writing style. I think she and Whitney would get along frighteningly well, mainly because of some of her comments on French men. They were wrong. Dirty and funny and wrong.

In more life news, I did sign on an apartment. As of yesterday, I officially will not be homeless for more than a day or so, depending on when the current people get out (I’m hoping to not be homeless at all, which probably will work out. Seriously, this whole having someone move out on the 31st when your lease ends on the 31st and therefore you can’t really wait to move in until the 1st? Messed up.). It’s a two-bedroom, pretty near work and campus and metro and a nice bike trail, and no longer up 1.5 miles (although I have gotten so I always make that hill. Not fast and not pretty, but I make it. ), and is not really sketchy, but five blocks away is sketchy, and it has a really random restaurant called Quarterdeck, which may or may not be affiliated with a Florida seafood chain. Now I only have to find a roommate, which shouldn’t be too hard given the location and whatnot, and the not that expensiveness of it, and move, which should be hard since SB is going out of country conveniently right about the time I’m moving (I think he planned it.). And then I can relax. If by relax, you mean plunge into school and thesis planning and whatnot. Because that totally is relaxing. Like a sauna or a massage… in hell!

Malaise-y

I am in a funk. A grey mood. A malaise if you will. (and you will.) Why? I don’t know. Everything is fine. And not the “I’m fine, but I’m really mad” type of fine, but the actually okay type of fine. But then…everything is fine. And that’s it. Nothing is great, nothing is stupendous. I feel trapped in a haze of mediocrity. Finding a new housing situation: going fine. Relationship with SB: going fine. Work: kind of boring, but going fine. Thesis planning: not really happening much, but what is is going fine.

(I did almost rethink my original concept yesterday when I saw that a girl last year wrote her thesis on Madeleine L’Engle and Philip Pullman. Genius. So then I was totally going to look at how post-colonialism came through in children’s literature, maybe focusing on the use of myths. Which still sounds interesting. I don’t know. But do I really want to spoil some of my favorite childhood novels by researching the crap out of them? I don’t want to be sick of them… that would just be sad. Plus I briefly glanced at research available and in the 20 seconds I looked, I didn’t see much. Which can be a good or a bad thing. It can be good in that you don’t have to struggle to find a spin no one else has before. Or it can be bad in that you have to write broader, because there isn’t the original research to allow you to go deeper. And I go through brief moments of excitement about either topic and then it pales.)

Knitting, well in knitting, I would bump fine up to well. I only have a few more inches on my sleeves of my sweater, and then I can start on the body. Which is good since my mom and I (my dad’s coming up too, but just for a few days) are having a relaxation retreat next week where much knitting shall be accomplished, and I need her help on getting started on the rest. It’s an interesting pattern. We shall see. Knitting may be my salvation.

With SB… I don’t know. He’s working all the time these days, which makes it hard to get things better. And what am I supposed to do about that one? I can’t tell him not to work. He doesn’t have much choice. About the only time he’ll get a break is when he is out of the country for work (working out of the country is still work, but it’s different), which doesn’t exactly help me or us any. I’d like for us to go do something fun somewhere, but he doesn’t have the time or the energy or, thanks to this glorious economy and his desire to buy a place, the money.

And, speaking of money, I have my first cavity. (It relates. You’ll see.) I don’t know if it’s a REAL cavity in that it doesn’t hurt any and therefore hasn’t really gone past the outer layer of my teeth (or so SB tells me), but it needs to be filled. I’m not afraid of having it filled; what I am afraid of is the bill. Getting X-rays and a cleaning was pretty much insane. Add to that a filling, in addition to car work I had to have done? I’m going to be broke. Or not really broke, since thanks to grad school I’m already in debt and how can you be broke when you are living on borrowed money, but more in debt, which still sucks.

Plus when I get stressed about all such things, I like to spend money. Which makes me more stressed, even if the amount I’m spending is tiny. (I don’t buy big ticket items. Ever.) Which makes me spend more. It is truly a viscous cycle.

And so it begins.

So the housing thing I was hoping would come through apparently has not come through. Which I’m rather okay with since the girl has not exactly been responsive and is that really something I want to deal with? I’m just annoyed because it would be easy and I’m lazy and moving was SUCH a pain last year. Or rather moving twice because I couldn’t find a place when I needed it was such a pain. Or the whole situation, which was just awful and even thinking about it makes me want to start hyperventilating.

But after I finish with the whole breathing into the paper bag routine… I’m in a better spot. I have more contacts, more people who can help me out. Plus I’m going about it differently. One of the girls I know gave me contact info for a realtor who gets paid by the apartment complexes (meaning she’s free to me) and I’ve contacted her. It’ll be so much easier to just find a place and then find a roommate. Preferably someone who knits. Or crochets. I know, it sounds ridiculous to want someone who knits or crochets, but in general, the type of people who are drawn to that pursuit are the type of people I think I’d get along with, particularly in a housing situation. Plus, if they are better than I am, they can show me stuff and inspire me to knit more. (Since the 1457234879 projects I have started are not going to finish themselves.) I know now what stuff is most important to me in a roommate, I know more about the system, and I hopefully am a bit better about working it. So we are crossing our fingers and hoping for an easier transition this time.

Stitching and Pitching

First of all, happy engagement to E!!

I’ve had the strangest getting sick experience this week. I was fine, FINE, until Sunday night. Sunday I did feel a bit tired, but more the “I stayed up too late, slept in too late” feeling than anything else. But all of a sudden, Sunday night, I was burning up with a fever. I was dizzy. I can’t remember the last time I was dizzy from a fever. SB felt my forehead, and was all like, “Have you been doing something? Cleaning or something?” Never mind that I had been sitting there quietly eating next to him for the past 20 minutes. He was trying hard to take care of me more, probably since I yelled at him recently for failing so miserably one summer during college. Seriously. I was really sick. He said later he thought I might have had appendicitis (my stomach REALLY hurt). But he still left and then didn’t call for nearly 24 hours. Whitney was on standby in case I actually decided to go to the hospital (which I was considering). One of his jerkier moments. But at least he is trying to be better.

Stitch ‘N’ Pitch was on Friday and was totally awesome. For those of you I don’t actually see in real life, and therefore couldn’t share my huge amounts of excitement, Stitch ‘N’ Pitch is a group that arranges fiber-related activities in combination with baseball watching. This past Friday was the one in DC, and my first time at both a Nationals game and the Nationals new stadium. It was surreal, sitting there watching the game and looking over and seeing people knitting or crocheting. I went with two friends in my program who also knit, one of whom I’m totally stealing an idea from. Misskateunderground is knitting an American blanket (not being from here), using a variation of red, white, and blue (her variation being no red-I think-, and the white being more gray) AND (here’s the part I’m totally stealing) doing each swatch in a different pattern. Which is a brilliant way to get familiar with lots of different stitches and whatnot, plus the small size of each swatch would give me the fast completion I don’t get from any other project. (Um… yeah... Totally took me 5 years to finish a scarf for SB. In my defense, I was knitting it on size 5 needles and it was ribbed and HUGE. But still. Although I never did see him wear it this winter… He’d better be careful, or no more knitting things for him.)

As for the game itself, it was a baseball game. Kind of slow. I missed the only homerun while in line for a helmet sundae that I walked really far for before realizing that there was a stand a few feet the opposite way than I walked. I finally saw a bobble head race, although the first time (that’s right. Apparently, if the game is 14 innings, they do TWO races), Teddy didn’t even show. He apparently was hitting on random girls at this beach-type place in the stadium. The fireworks were cancelled since the game lasted until 11:40 or so. We started yelling randomly at players. “Score! We want to go HOME!” and yelling with some girl who was trying to get someone else’s attention (Karen, I think?). All in all, a satisfying first Nats game (they did win, btw), with lovely company. I did completely fail to get the name of this girl who was sitting behind us and with whom I chatted quite a bit. I’m figuring I’ll run into her again eventually. DC is big, but knitting communities are relatively small. Plus I got SWAG, which I always enjoy, and pilfered some of my friends’ swag, as they didn’t want everything they got. What can I say, I’m a sucker for free stuff.

I also have begun my first crochet garment. I’m using cheap yarn, but the pattern calls for cheap yarn, and I already had it. I have a few inches done, but have discovered that casting on for crocheting sucks so much more than knitting. The book did warn me, though…

One is silver and the other gold

I’ve been thinking a lot about friends lately, probably due to the several catching up sessions I’ve had lately. This past weekend I went to visit A., who has been one of my best friends for 15 years now (she did the math, but it seems to work out), which was fun but always a little weird. Not weird because that connection is gone, but weird because it’s not. It seems like no matter how much time passes, we still manage to pick up at about the same relationship level we’ve always had. We joke that we are like family, but really, we kind of are. We mock, we get annoyed at each other. She knows things about me that I had forgotten. Like I apparently bruise like a peach. If you had asked me before this weekend if I bruised like a peach, I probably would have said no. But thinking about it, I do bruise rather easily. How did she know that and I didn’t?

At the same time, though, that we have all this history, we also have very different outlooks on life. We always have, really. She’s trying to get me to wear uncomfortable pointy shoes, because they are “hot.” I say they are uncomfortable and make me want to cry and I have to walk a fair amount, so no. She’s more concerned with her appearance than I have ever been. We’re both insanely stubborn, although I’m more argumentative. Yet despite our differences, despite our varying perspectives and any arguments, the relationship has stayed basically the same.

Then last night I talked to E.. Which had a different feel, and I'm not sure if it's because we have only been friends for 8 years (seriously?!?! 8 years since I was a freshman? That's nuts.) or because A. and I had learned how to stay close while not talking really while we were in different colleges or because growing up together automatically affects things. Not to say that I don't love E. and that talking to her wasn't a blast, because I do and it was. But the distance seems more obvious. It took us a good 15 minutes to get into the conversation. It's strange how little we know about each other's lives. Which is also true for A. but it doesn't feel as true and I don't know why. Of course I also haven't seen E. in real life in three years, which might play into it. Though we were talking a fair amount like a year ago, and there was none of this feeling. Which means it might just me overthinking things too much and feeling all emotional because bunches of friends are engaged or nearly engaged and I remember having the same conversations they are like four years ago which makes me sad.

Either way, I feel like there are so many awesome people who have been a part of my life that I don't get to stay in near enough touch with. Even CW, who lives in the same city as I do, and I don't get together or talk that much, mainly because we are both busy and live in different parts of the city. I wonder if this whole moving constantly and meeting new people is changing how we as a society manage relationships. How many friends can one actually stay close to, particularly when everyone is scattered across the country? How can you choose?

In less depressing news, though, my weaving project is going beautifully and is going to be STUNNING.

Epiphanies and whatnot

This past week has been a strange one for me. Full of ups and downs, aided by the spawn of a bad cold and allergies taking up residence in my nose/chest/head/body. Actually, this whole month has been weird. Started insanely stressed out, to the point that I could hardly think, breathe, rest, knit, or anything else. No panic attacks, though, or the return of the horrible stomach problems that give me a weird taste in my mouth that peppered stressful times at my last job, or the stomach stabbing pains from England. I think that deserves a pat on the back for me. Maybe, just maybe, I’m learning to deal with my stress. Starting to, anyhow.

Then I thought I would be happy to be done. I was relieved, but at the same time, didn’t know what to do with myself. I hadn’t had free time in SO long. And I don’t mean like hours free time, I mean any. Practically every minute had been planned, leaving me completely exhausted and mentally drained by eight or nine or so. (Later if I had to work on papers. Which I did. Constantly. In which case I was still mentally exhausted, but plodding onward.) When I did all of a sudden get minor free time, my mind had stopped working, I was still remnant stressed out, and I could hardly stand to move. And then, unsurprisingly, I got the aforementioned beast of an illness. And discovered I had not gotten the grades I felt I had earned. In either class.

Which has been good for me. I know, why would something like that be good for me? It’s a strange phenomenon. Except. Except school has always been easy for me. Toss off a paper the night before it’s due, get an a minus. Put a tiny bit more effort into, get an a. When I graduated from undergrad, SB told me I needed to figure out who I was outside of school. Which I did relatively well, although it was a somewhat traumatic experience. Now I’m figuring out how to base my self esteem on myself, rather than outside accolades I never had to really strive for. Why do I need a grade to tell me how smart I am? I know how smart I am. I live with it and its effects every day. I know I can never get my mind to shut up, that I’m constantly analyzing and writing and rewriting things in my head. I know my ideas, my papers were pretty damn good. Not perfect, no, but why should they be? Given more time to focus on them, more guidance, they might get that way, but not the way school is set up. Plus, I’ve also come to realize that different universities teach different writing styles. And it is HARD to change that basic part of your writing to fit another. I don’t mean styles in how the sentences are formed or how the paper is structured. All English majors do that for nearly every class they have. I mean style as as basic as how you go about writing a paper, the way you form your thesis, the items you focus on in that paper. The nucleus of the paper, not the protons or neutrons. And that is what grad school is trying to change.

Then all of a sudden this week, I was spontaneously happy. I don’t know why, except maybe I feel like I am finally clicking with people (mostly the people in my program who are leaving, but whatever…). That and the whole previously described epiphany. It’s been nice.

Except that every day, I realize more and more that I want to live by myself. Not a slight to my current roommates, with whom I have many things in common except for personalities, which has made sharing a very tiny house interesting. But all that analyzing and rewriting and stuff? The thing that nearly shuts it up is being alone. I like, no, love to be alone. Not all the time, but I need to feel like I can shut myself away for a while, no interruptions, no judging. The more stressed out I get, the more I need that. And right now, that need is what I’m focused on. It makes it very hard for me to care about anything in relation to the house, but getting out. I need a change. Since I can’t afford my own place, I at least need new people to avoid.

Let them eat... Cupcakes!

When trying to decide what to do with all my free time, now that my first year of grad school is over, CW suggested to update here. Well, her first suggestion was to drink, but I quickly decided both for my health and my wallet, that wasn’t quite a feasible way to eat up the time.

So here I am, talking about cupcake wars. Yes, cupcake wars. Those of you who frequent the Georgetown area may have come across a new, always busy locale called Georgetown Cupcakes. It has been featured in various write-ups, received rave reviews, and pretty much constantly had a line of some sort since it opened on Valentine’s Day. Now, previous to Georgetown Cupcakes, there was Baked and Wired, a place down M Street a bit. Baked and Wired has been around for while, and has also been known for their baked goods, particularly cupcakes.

Now people in Georgetown have too much disposable income or are students or students with too much disposable income (the most hated of the groups), all people who are willing to pay for an amazing sweet rush. The battle lines have been drawn, although I’m not sure Georgetown Cupcakes really is aware of Baked and Wired. I’m assuming when they did their market analysis, they noted B and W’s existence, but they have been completely overwhelmed by their success, and every time I’m in there, seem a bit frantic just trying to stay on top of things.

As that last statement might suggest, I’m in the GC camp. One, they are more convenient. Close to my work, not so far down M Street from campus, and close to one of the bus stops I hit. Two, their mocha cupcakes are to die for, in my opinion. With amazing frosting, the kind that is crunchy on the very outside and oozy when your teeth puncture that surface. Moist cake, a delicious little chocolate espresso bean on top… Makes me drool just thinking about it.

I will admit, I’ve only had one B and W cupcake, and I enjoyed it well enough. I wouldn’t go out of my way to get another, and probably won’t dream about it (as I have with GC’s), but it was delightful enough. The cake portion might actually have been a bit richer and moister than GC’s, but the frosting was too thick and too gooey. (Gooey loses to oozy in this case.) And the woman in front of me professed that their cupcakes were SO much better than GC’s. She’s not alone; I’ve heard other people say similar things (not as many as have raved about GC, but GC is new). You could tell, though, that they are quite aware of GC’s existence.

And really. This is the type of war where everybody wins (except maybe B and W’s bottom-line, assuming GC is cutting into it). Maybe we should fly over hundreds of each store’s to Iraq or Lebanon or some other war-torn country, and let them fight it out. At least it would change the terms of engagement for a while. And who can be THAT angry while enjoying delicious cupcakes?

Random Musings

I think I actually have a topic for one of my final papers. This is a quasi-exciting deal, as by this time last semester, I was burnt out and had nothing to say. Of course, I had Awful Professor, who seemed to want to crush us all, especially anyone who challenged her in any way. Jerk. (I’m not bitter still. Letting it go, letting it go…) And in my other class last semester, I picked a ridiculously complicated topic that I still can hardly wrap my head around. You try and define intelligence. Just do it. How do you? Do you include outside skills? Cognitive science? Should it be defined differently depending on circumstance? Can you be dumb and skilled? Yeah, try writing a 20 page paper with all those comments. It was slippery, very slippery. Of course, I am a bit worried, since this professor has been a hard grader and I’m not 100% sure I know exactly what he wants, but he also is ridiculously nice and will bend over backwards to help me figure it all out.

I am a bit bored at work, mainly because I apparently work too fast. I did have a HORRIBLE dream last night that I was volunteering at my old place of employment. Ugh. About half-way through the dream, I realized I didn’t have to volunteer. They weren’t paying me. And I could quit. Quitting again was rather nice. And CEO was of course being a snot, as always. I probably somewhat dreamed about it because I was trying to decide if I could go to Vegas with CW and her friends. Sadly, I don’t think I can. I want to, I really do. But I’m trying so hard to keep my debt not only under my original goal, but $15,000 under. Whee!! Which is so much more manageable. More like an expensive car-splurge than a “dear God, was it all worth it and can I pay it all back?” experience. Or basically, a little less than one year’s salary. Or considerably less, depending on what kind of job I get. [crosses fingers]. But anyways, spending a whole paycheck on a long weekend trip just seemed a bit exorbitant. I could probably swing it, but I’d spend the whole time feeling guilty and trying not to whine about money. And I didn’t want to hold them back from doing exciting things they could afford and I can’t.

I should be excited about Sunday, what with the whole Easter and being able to have sweets thing. But I didn’t miss sweets nearly as much this year. Of course, I did cheat, kind of. See, you’re supposed to be able to eat what you gave up on Sundays, which I didn’t. I did, however, take the number of Sundays and called them cheat days, which I then sprinkled in. But no desert on Valentine’s Day? That just seems sad. The other cheat days, I probably could have done without, but whatever. I think I may try and keep up this whole approach to sweets, though. I mean, if I haven’t missed having them more than a few times in several weeks, why not always eat like that? Though I did already by myself a Cadbury egg… SB is supposed to give me an Easter basket (I’m making him one, too), but we’ll see. I’d rather have at least back-up on that.

Pro-Hill: Or why I refuse to jump on the Barack Bandwagon

I have a confession to make. I [deep breath] am a twenty-something, educated person who is pro-Hillary. I know, I’m breaking with so many demographic studies in this admission, but I don’t care. I really like Hillary. I’m really uneasy about Barack.

Now, some might be wondering how I could possibly be uneasy about Barack. “He is such an amazing public speaker,” you say. “His message of change is SOOOoooo inspiring.” First of all, I don’t care. I don’t need a president to give me goose bumps, I need a president to give me real policies. Public speaking is a useful skill. I, as my mother so frequently reminds me (at least a couple of times a year), have been known to bring tears to my listeners’ eyes. Does that mean I should be president? I would think not. For one, that’s not even legal, due to my young age. Second, public speaking just means you can work a crowd. We have a president who can work a crowd and I don’t like him. He’s been awful.

As for the message of hope, here’s why it doesn’t work on me. The system is in place. It has been for 200 years. Yes, there are things about it that I’m not fond of. There are flaws. But a good portion of those flaws and things that annoy me (minus things this administration has done, which can’t be blamed on the system but only on their assedness) are flaws within the Congressional system. How is he going to change those? He’s in an entirely different system (executive versus legislative, for those of you who don’t remember social studies well). He can try, but I don’t think it’ll work, and really, his energy should be elsewhere.

Then there is the dearth of experience. Foreign experience is hugely important to me right now. The world hates us. I’d like to change that. Navigating the treacherous waters of foreign politics is hard and takes practice and knowledge. He listed living abroad as part of his foreign experience (I mean, seriously. Another reason I should be president. I too have lived abroad. Twice. TWICE.)

Add to all this that I genuinely like Hillary, and it’s not surprising I hope she overcomes the numerical odds and gets the nomination. She makes me feel safe. She’s experienced. She’s tough. She’s proven herself willing to take on challenges, willing to try hard even when failing is likely. And for the argument of how divisive she is and how Congress won’t work with her. She has managed to get a remarkable number of bills through for a junior senator. Conservatives in New York love her. And she has worked her butt off for her constituents. What more do we need? Change? Hah. Call me bitter, but you can’t change the system. We vote on a message of change and we will be disappointed.

Of course, according to the History Channel, the world is ending in 2012, so I guess it doesn’t hugely matter anyways.

Where are the weirdos?

Victoria’s Secret apparently is attempting to rebrand itself, as the CEO says they’ve gotten “too sexy,” and people have stopped shopping there. Which I think is somewhat true. I’m tired of commercials and ads screaming “IF ONLY YOU LOOKED LIKE US,” with the quiet, subliminal text “too bad you don’t.” I mean, it’s not like VS’s stuff is cheap. If I’m going to spend that much money on a flimsy piece of gauze, I want to do it in a place that makes me feel good about myself, not self-conscious and judged. Besides, three-fourths of the stuff is impractical. I don’t have money to waste on stuff I can’t wear on a regular basis. So my advice to VS is brand yourself to all women, not just tiny 17 year olds, stop with the sickeningly pink design scheme, practical it up, and try to make women feel better about themselves, not worse.

Not that I buy anything there anyways. Like I said, they are too rich for my blood. Plus nothing there fits me right. And I don’t like the cashiers.

Of course, that doesn’t seem unusual as I seem to be liking people less and less these days. Which I’d be okay with (after all, people in large clumps ARE insanely annoying, and teenage girls giggling loudly are a bit ear-piercing), except it all seems to be accompanied by a loss of my weirdness. Not that I’m not still strange, but I used to find the strangest things funny. I’d smirk walking around the streets, all by myself. Now… I just walk. And I’m not okay with this. I mean, you can say it’s just a part of growing older, but I don’t believe that. I think it’s just that the people who brought out that side of me are all spread out over the country. (You quirkies know who you are… J) I’m tired of talking about serious stuff, like politics and global warming and budgets and taxes. I want to be giddy, to say things and have people look at me oddly (I know that’s a strange thing to want, but that’s a part of my point). I want to hang out with a bunch of people and wind up making a hat out of a knife and a napkin again. Basically, I need to find the weird people here who can make me laugh and remind me about that part of myself. You’d think my program could do it, but no… we’re all shockingly normal, besides the whole being completely nerdy thing. (I mean, really. I would hate to come to our parties as an outsider. Three fourths of the conversation is literature or class related, and the other quarter leads back to classes or literature.) I wonder where they are all hiding….