Pretty please make this week be over.

It has been a long day. Tomorrow will be even longer. I thought I was going to see MC before his trip and now that's not going to happen. Sigh. I'm insecure. But more than that, I am tired and sore. I'm lying. More than tired and sore, I am insanely insecure about everything. I don't feel capable at work. I do not feel capable at school. I do not feel capable of relationships. 

I f'd up with MC a bit, I think. I haven't told him that I do not do well not talking about things that are serious. Talking about life and love and what our expectations are is so very important to my well being and we have not even spoken about what we want out of dating. I need things all laid out on the table or I feel anxious and frustrated. He on the other hand, is a carefree spirit. I don't think he is the type to want to or need to talk about life and love. And that is why this will most likely never work out. I sort of had that suspicion since date 1 or 2. He is the kind of guy I would want to be with if I could live within my adventurous mind. It's the mind where all I do is travel, eat, drink, and be unhealthy without a care. But honestly, that's not really the whole of me. That is just a piece of me to be indulged from time to time. Inside I am a hunkerer. I like to hunker down and feel protected and secure. Not that I want to be a home body with 2 kids and a 9 to 5. But I do want some middle ground. I do want someone who will ponder life's mysteries with me. I want someone who will carelessly tell me that they hate being away from me... that they miss me. I want someone who will risk being exhausted on a work day just to spend time with me, because that's what I do for anyone that I enjoy being with. That is not him or at least I am not the person who can do that to him. He is capable of amazing sweetness.  But I don't think he is capable of really wanting me enough to make me feel secure. That's my problem and one that is not going away. I think I'd rather be alone than feel that way.

This is not really about him. In fact, it's not about him at all. This is about me and my lack of balance, my inability to put my feet on the ground. This week needs to be buried along with the whole of 2010. Each day feels like it's drawing me closer and closer to the end. I'm begging for it to move faster. Strange, how badly I long for the days, weeks, and years to just disappear and for my life to fade into the background.

Tuesday

I will make it through this week with enthusiasm. I will. I will. Tonight is clay sculpting night and I will be happy doing it. It will be joyful and fun and I WILL learn. I can learn. I will have patience with my psycho partner. I will not be sleepy. I will get everything done, done, done, and I will be good, I will be grand.  I'M GOOD ENOUGH, I'M SMART ENOUGH, AND DOGGONE IT, PEOPLE LIKE ME! Yep.

drama

Do you want me to be honest with you? I mean, really honest? Ok, well, here goes. I had an awful weekend most of the weekend. I mean, I had some great moments. There was the bike ride out to Club Jager on Friday night. There was the one drink and the casual conversation. But sadly, that was followed by drunken conversations that were depressing and crazy. I was not the drunk one, though, so that was good. And all that was said was perfectly justified and I was happy that I could be there, be a friend to someone in need. The problem is that you are aware of my fragility and this conversation hit close to home, testing me. Saturday I did nothing that I can remember. What did I do? I studied a lot. I ate a lot. I cried a lot. And yesterday I got up early and went for a bike ride, taking advantage of the beautiful morning. My back still aches but I did it. Side note: I ran 7.5 miles Saturday -- best run in a long time, despite my plunge into smoking.

So anyway, yesterday I watched the football game with friends. But the drama followed me. I wouldn't actually call it drama as much as I would call it venting mixed with the incestuous group dynamic. It exhausted me, wore me out. I even started crying in the god damn kitchen. WTF? I do NOT do that. I do not. But I did. Luckily there was only 1 witness and she was the one who I talked to on Friday and had her share of tears. Dude, it sucked. I left early, went back "home" and cried, sobbed, cried, ate peanut butter and almost drown. I was so darn low that I texted Brian. We had a back and forth that was good but so sad. So sad. My eyes were huge and puffy and I felt awful. As that was wrapping up I got an invite to hang with MC (6'6" guy I've been dating for a few weeks now).

It was good timing. I knew I was going to look like shit and take some time to get in the groove, but I knew I needed to. I needed to get out of the house and out of my head. I wanted companionship. I wanted to laugh and smile. I wanted to feel ok for the night. So that's what I did. I went to his house and enjoyed myself. I enjoyed myself a lot. I like spending time with that man no matter what it means to either of us. I smiled almost the entire time that I was there. We sat out on the patio smoking and talking about his upcoming trip. I got wrapped up in his enthusiasm. It was a good night. There seemed to be a little more romance than in the past date... a little more hand holding and kissing and playfulness. Just talking about it makes my heart thump a bit. Thank MC for turning my attitude right around. Thank god that can still happen. Maybe I haven't been lost to the bitter end just yet.

Friday fucking fuck fuck

Argh. I can't get over this hump this week. There has been far too much whimpering and loss of control. I went to the house to feed the cats yesterday -- weeping like I haven't done in months. 2 days this week, the tears have fallen at my desk. WTF. I do NOT cry at my desk, motherfucker. I wish that I were in a dim room with cold cement against my feet, dancing, spinning, my hair soaked with sweat and sticking to my face. I want to feel that trance state. I want to be allowed to get lost like that. I want to escape this life.

I'm hating fall this year. The cold feels unbearable. The winds and the smells and the desire for chili and pumpkin seem entirely unfair. This life feels entirely unfair. 

While at the house, I decided that we really should just foreclose. We both just need to end it, cut it off. Yes, there will be financial repercussions but otherwise I will be stuck with that burden forever and ever. It is a burden to smell that smell, to see the food that's been in the fridge since before I left, to see so much of what I worked for in shambles on the living room floor. It's too much. This is all still too much. And I'm a fighter god damn it. I'm scrappy and strong and somewhere in me is a passionate, happy person. Or maybe not. They say like attracts like, right? Maybe Brian and I are one in the same. Maybe I am as sad and fucked up and pathetic and lost as he. Maybe I would be better off throwing myself to the wolves, just like he has done.

Sorry, I just need to fucking burst and explode on the page yet again today. This is becoming a pattern. The only time I feel like writing these days is when I can hardly stand the pressure in my body and I just need to push it all out to through pen, through paper, through words. 

Fuck, man. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It sure does feeling fucking awesome to throw the fucks around. Motherfucker. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. sigh. this feels awesome. 

The weekend is here and I just want to crawl up in my bed with my fluffy comforter and watch movies. And I want to kiss. I want romance and love and sweetness. I need that shit. I want someone to tickle my back. It's been over a year since I've had that. Fuck man. Now days, I want to explode just when a man touches my head or my face. It happened last weekend. Melt. But still, I am crazy with sadness. I want everyone to love me so badly that I try too hard. It's a serious problem. It all comes back to that stupid Matchbox 20 song: 

She said I don't know if I've ever been good enough 

I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in 

And I don't know if I've ever been really loved 

By hand that's touched me, well I feel like something's gotta give 

And I'm a little bit angry, well 

Melodramatic much? Yes, yes I am. Let me have it today with this whipping wind and the coldness and the loneliness. fuuuuuuuuckkkkkk! 

Ahem, better. Thank you. Let the weekend begin.

Failure

I wanted to quit school so badly yesterday. I want to quit so badly so many days. I am not good at anatomy. Honestly, I'm not passionate about muscles and their names and actions. I'm not. Ugh. I listen to classmates get all excited and passionate and I just fall flat. I feel as if I will never learn and as if I will never care. But then I got a massage and gave one. I used my forearm. I used my thumbs to dig under this guys scapula and it was awesome. He loved it. I liked making him feel better. But then, I don't feel like it's enough for me to be really good. Does it make sense for me to continue if I cannot find it in me to get excited about learning the little things that make someone an expert? It feels unfair. It especially feels unfair when I know that if we were talking about religion or psychology or politics, I would be thrilled. I would get giddy and I would want to read and I would want to study. It sure is hard deciding what you want to be and do and recognizing and acting on your weakness. I don't want to be a failure at another thing. 

normalcy

Went to the doctor and it's just a bruising. It could still be a month before normalcy.

Exhausted this week. Drained. Another week of slipping back.

 I'm fearful that I may actually break down in tears on the table tonight. I've feared it before but keeping it together usually isn't so difficult. But the way my body aches, it's going to be challenging. I sort of want to dig my nails into the ground and scream. How can I possibly hold it together if the rain starts to pound? The breathing is laborious.

I just want to be held.

Bruised and battered

My body is destroyed and I think it's taking its toll on my mind. I'm pretty sure I severely bruised the ribs or maybe even cracked one. I can't begin to explain the pain that comes with trying to get in and out of bed or the car for that matter. Driving today was a total bitch. I would go to the doc, but I know that all they can really do is give me some Vicodine. Not that I wouldn't enjoy a few happy pills right about now, but I just don't think that's a path I need to go down. First of all, imagine the running and lifting weights I might attempt if all hyped up on drugs. I'm fairly sure that would not help in the healing process. Secondly, the pain in my body is accompanied by a pretty dark mind. The last thing I should be doing is clouding my depression with drugs.

That was probably a bad choice of words. Don't worry, I'm not "depressed" in the sense that I am waiting for someone to drag me to the doc to help me analyze and compartmentalize my feelings. I don't need to talk about the pain and how to control my emotions. No, I am just fucking sad like anyone who has had the year that I've had, would be. It's god damn depressing sometimes. It will subside but for now, it is what it is.

I saw a picture of Gina & the baby on FB yesterday. I'm still linked to Brian, she's linked to Brian, and thus I see her profile pic. I shouldn't have this connection but I'm just not in the mood to let it go. So I saw the picture and it just felt weird. You know how I said earlier that I don't know if I want kids? Well, I'm trying to understand what that kind of life would be like. I'm trying to wrap my brain around the options. I want family... some sort of family. But that does not mean I have to have little ones, right? Maybe my family will be unconventional. Maybe I will be better off on some sail boat in the middle of the ocean or some hut on a beach. That dream still lives.

I think I need to take some time today to close my eyes and imagine myself within that dream. I need to imagine where this life could be in a year. It could be wonderful. It could be grand. I need to imagine how it would feel to be healed of all these bruises -- to be free of the battering.

jealousy grrrrrrr.

What an unbelievable weekend. Fucking unbelievable. I got the bruises and scars and limping to prove it. Do not allow me near men who are willing to fight a girl. I have a death wish. I will fight them and I will end up injured and no, I will not fucking give up even when every piece of my body is crushed and aching. Call it a Napolean complex of sorts or just call me plain stupid, but I enjoy the wrestling, the entaglement, and the pain that comes along with the rush. But today I am paying. I can hardly get up out of my chair. Crack. Crack. Crack. The excellent hugging and other such activities afterwards definitely hindered the healing process. I wasn't about to give up the loving any more than I would give up the chance for a whipping.

I started out super happy today. Quickly my mood it deteriorates. There's no reason really, except that I can barely move and that I'm jealous as hell. I'm jealous of everyone and I despise such disgusting jealousy. I despise myself today. I am undeserving.

Once more with feeling.

I can't stop looking at this stupid fucking photograph. After the sort of weekend, this is the last thing I should be looking at. But since last week, I keep coming back and back and back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Lonesome appears to be an incurable state. I'm afraid I will never, ever know someone again and they will never know me. But fuck this. Fuck that. One more time. Just one more time. My Last Song to Jenny.

good day, day, day

I dumped about 1/3 of my deliciously, extravagant dark chocolate mocha. Mmm. It was so yummy. So yummy. But that's it, man. I need to get myself slightly back on track. I have been eating way, way, way too much sugar and fatty substances. There's this Indian snack mix that I flip over. It is so damn good, I can't put the bag down. But no more, no more! The waist line is definitely being effected. It's back to carrots and apples and salads. I like those things. They make me feel good & happy. No more emotional eating for this girl.

I started to get myself back on track yesterday. I avoided the ginger cookies (my favorite) and chocolate. I had to go out for lunch but I stuck to salad and soup, which ended up being all I had until this morning (don't worry, I ate enough the day before to last me the whole week... same with the day before that). My legs have been tight and awful this week, so I cycled yesterday. It was only an hour, because of the rush to get it done between work and school. But this morning I got up at 5 and went to the gym. I ran 4 miles (sucky), cycled for about 40 minutes, and lifted a few weights. I made it to work at 7:45. I'm testing this new schedule to see if I can whip myself back into shape. It's going to be a hard adjustment but it could do me quite well. 

I'm going up North this weekend. ATV's, bloody Mary's and fire here I come! Man, am I excited. I can hardly contain myself. And I might get to see my recent "interest" this evening... and if not, for sure on Sunday. Giddy. Giddy. Giddy. I AM so NOT giddy. I'm cool. I'm calm. It's nothing at all, dude. Stop making fun. I am way too cool to get all dorky like about boys. Ahem. How am I ever going to make it through 3 hours of class? 

Ok, I need to study for a quiz. I would hate to screw up on my first graded project. Oh, oh! I am buying my massage table today, I think. Cross your fingers that they have one. I feel determined. Today is going to be a good day. I'm beating it into submission.  

Boring, boring, boring.

I wish that I had some sort of exciting something to share with you after all these days, but really I do not. My last date was Friday night and it was good. It was really good. And yet, it was confusing for a girl such as me. I want to see him again but I have to wait. I don't like the waiting. The places my mind goes in the midst of quiet, are really not places that should be explored. I've sort of got this complex about being needy and stuff. Argh. It's been that sort of week. My body aches and is so bloated I can barely move. I've been eating and sleeping and not treating myself all that well. I feel awful, really. My jaw hurts. My face feels huge. My kankles are almost cartoonish. It's not pretty, friends. Not pretty at all. And  it's only Wednesday. If I didn't have school, Wednesday would see like an accomplishment. But with school, it means that I still have an entire night, day, and night ahead of me. Luckily I took Friday off or I think I would poke myself in the eye to relieve the pain. Tonight is massage night which is good. However, the pain in my body may make it difficult. We are learning enhanced routines which means we need to focus rather than enjoy. I'm not sure that I have the focus inside.

Last night was a good night. Last night I got a text from an extortionist. This sounds bad to you. For me, this is good. The extortion is of the good variety. And then I sat and watched How I Met Your Mother with my friends and we giggled. We giggled so much. Man, that's the best time I'd had since Friday night. Actually, it was the best sort of sober, kid-like fun I've had in a long, long time. I don't even remember the last time, really. That moment, so simple, will be captured in my head and heart for a very long time. It may even be one of those that sticks with me forever. That's the type of thing that happens for me. It's those simple moments that just do it. Don't tell anyone that, though. It's kind of embarrassing. I love my friends. I'm feeling really, really emotional and girly. I'm pretty proud that I didn't send Brian any messages like I was so tempted to do the last couple nights in the midst of my confusion.

I think I should head out of here early and spend some extra time at the gym stretching this disgusting body and mind. I need something different to wake me up and get me back to normalcy. So that's it... super dull right now. Sorry. I promise, I should liven up a bit soon. To make up for it, I'll leave ya with a silly, funny, great little ditty, compliments of the boy I'm dating

First of May by Jonathan Coulton

back to school

It's back to school. Yes, already. I'm not ready. I'm seriously contemplating calling it quits. Put my money back in the bank, enroll in a nice anthropology class or two and forget about this whole massage thing. Maybe get me a motorcycle and start ridin’ with all my friends. School seems like such daunting work. It seems like a hard career. It seems like a waste of precious time. I want to spend my evenings on bikes and curled up on couches and pounding my legs on a treadmill. I want to find someone to adore and spend my time adoring them. But that’s just foolish, lazy PMS girl talking. I know I can’t quit. Ho hum. I’m not a quitter.

I’ve taken up smoking again. Don’t judge. Met a boy and well, smoking with him is pretty hard to beat. Running doesn’t quite have the same thrill or importance right now. He’s got me feeling a tad on the giddy side. He’s got me embracing my debauchery and exploring my optimistic side. I’m sitting here listening to some music, some old music, some good old country music. Can you say “Walkaway Joe?” Can you say “Lady?” Can you say “there’s something about this time of year that spins my head around. Takes me back and makes me wonder what she’s doing now.”

It’s bringing back the memories. It’s taking me back to 17. Oh yes, my friends, I was a country fan. Miss G can attest to my Garth obsession phase. So this music, it’s taking me back to days ridin’ in Bessie, my good ole bench-seat brown Pontiac. It’s bringin’ me back to cloudy fall afternoons singin at the top of my lungs. Some things should never change.

In a way, I feel like I’m that age again, all pumped up on emotion and adrenaline and hormones… only this time there’s a hell of a lot more baggage. This time I don’t look fresh. When my eyes get puffy, they get so puffy I see the old woman on the other side. My body is worn. My mind often goes to dark place. Yet this time, it’s also pretty damn exiting. I do NOT fucking need anyone. It’s pretty fucking amazing to realize that I have this loving, giving person inside of me that I can chose to share. Or not.

I’m sure most men smart enough to date me (wink, wink), will get a piece of my stupid, overflowing heart. I can’t hold that back. But that’s ok as long as I don’t let them stomp it all out of me. But someone, one lucky man (yes, I’m going to boast a bit more) might get lucky enough to capture my heart for good. And this time, there’s no holdin’ anything back – it’s balls-to-the-wall passion, love, and joy for that special someone. And truth is, if they capture my heart, I will be one amazingly lucky woman. Because this time around, to capture my heart, they’re going to have to be one amazingly awesome person. At age 33 I have a couple people in my life that I love passionately. I mean it, I love them and all their flaws and all their stupid ways and all their not loving me tendencies. Any new person is going to have to knock their socks off and feel as home with them. It’s just how it has to be these days. Yeah, so I may end up a slumpy, sad, alone person but fuck… I’d rather that then have my heart torn out again. I’m over it.

So breaking off the dating of J was the right decision. I enjoy him. I like him A LOT. But the passion and the sweetness and the courting just aren’t there. We will be friends for now, I hope. We can make each other laugh. And we can help each other find our way through some of the dark, craziness of this world.

I’ve been obsessing over Mason Jennings. I heart him. So big. And I rarely say that. But oh my, oh my. He makes me feel pretty damn good. He makes me feel all midwestern and ready for some campin' and drinkin' and dancin'. Love em'. Love em'. Love the smile he be puttin' on my face.

Mason Jennings

Fighter Girl

Hey, hey, little fighter girl
It's you and me up against this whole wide world
Sleeping together in the lion's den
Got your earrings in my pocket till I see you again

Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Come on, kiss me
Keep on kissin' me
Come on, kiss me
Keep on kissin' me


Another good one... Ballad for My True Love.

Tegan and Sara - Where Does The Good Go 18/02/08

Same old. What aloneness does.

I'm feeling dark and morbid after waking up giddy and goofy. It's the normal progression of days. I was supposed to go to Duluth with J, the guy I've been dating for a few weeks. He decided he was not motivated enough for the drive. Instead he came down here with his dog and we did nothing of consequence -- nothing that got us any closer to one another. He left really early. I told myself that's it, it is over. I ate too much. I puffed up and became bloated as shit. I napped and ate more. Still bloated as shit. J started chatting with me online after the nap. I told him that I didn't think the dating thing was working out. He said he agreed. We've now been chatting on and off for about 3-4 hours. I think that we are similarly lonely and dark and hurting and needing of some sort of something. It's sad. And yet, why should we not be friends when we're both in need and we find some sort of comfort in talking with one another? Friends in this world are hard to come by. Or at least that's how it has always been for me.

I've been lying in bed now for 6+ hours. It's not healthy. I feel like shit. But these rounds of aloneness and thinking are needed, I guess. I've been re-reading my blogs and thinking about Brian and my life and where it has all gone. It's odd. Sometimes I still think that I will end up back on my deck, laughing and making Brian dance with me, with none of this being real. In a strange bit of sadness, I went back and read Brian's old Facebook posts where he boasted about me and my cooking. There is a comment where I called him "my dear husband." Don't get me wrong, I am over him. I am over that part of my life and enjoying this part, for the most part. But still, sometimes it is difficult. Sometimes I'm not sure who I am or where I fit in or what this life has in store for me. Sometimes I still feel so very responsible. Sometimes I want to fucking scream.

holiday

The holiday weekend is approaching and I should spend it alone. I'm afraid of that. I know it's what I should do, but I hate to spend it alone, you know. I can't afford to have the pain re-enter full force. I don't want to get back to dreaming of trains and bottomless wells. I've made strides. I need to keep myself focused on those. I want to go to the Fair, the Renaissance Festival, and I would like to get another tattoo. I would also like to go skydiving and eat some food at Broders or some sort of out-of-the-way place near a lake. I want to hike and to climb. I want to hug someone. I want to see some music and dance. I would love to dance. God, I want to dance. Someone needs to dance with me before I go nutty. Summer is coming to a close and I just want to listen to some good music, drink some good wine, and dance by a fire. It's funny how I long for the simplest of things.

the rain, the coming fall

I am drinking a mocha. A dark, hot mocha. It's the first time in some time. It reminds me of fall and football and peanut butter and jelly. It reminds me of what I've lost. I'm feeling slightly down this morning. It's not that I've lost the hope or the little girl dreams -- it's more that I'm afraid. I am afraid that my mind and heart are too easily swayed. I am afraid of never finding someone who feels the same. I'm afraid of never finding someone that I can show it to. I am afraid of never having someone who I can just crawl up on and hug. I used to do that, you know. I would just crawl up on Brian's lap, straddle him, and hug him long and hard. Tears.
'
Stupid. Ignore me. It's just this rain and this music and this new life. There are moments that it just still feels unreal. There are moments that my romantic, sentimental side overpower every bit of realism. It is one of those moments. I want to be back skipping rocks. Please don't let it be over before it even begins.

It's an Elliott Smith day. God, this music is absolutely insane. Angeles takes my breath away every time. If you are not aware of his music, I highly suggest you go to Grooveshark, search for him ad play all. You may feel a tad depressed during or after but it's beautiful. I'm hoping that tonight I can lay in my bed listening. I want to lay alone and let myself be gone for a while. I'm tired. I could use the rest.

skip, jump, skip.

Skipped rocks. Rode on the back of a bike with my hair free and the pink sky ahead. Sat and talked and smiled. Smiled. Smiled some more. Life is good. Life is grand. I love September. I'm sure there are still many more pain points to feel. I'm sure I will feel scarred and burned many more times. I'm sure I will ache and cry and throw tantrums. But today. Oh, today. Today I am a giddy, joyful little girl and life it is full of every possibility. I feel like skipping. I feel like jumping on in. It makes me want to listen to Dog Days are Over, over and over.