(no subject)

 So far, 2011 hasn't given me much of a breather and I'm going through this whirlwind of life and I really just want to shut down and escape. 

Well, really, it's been bad for much longer. Since we have moved into this house, nothing has been right. nothing has gone right. nothing feels right. everything has gone haywire and I'm at a loss. 

It began with a horrible decision to be with a younger guy who was in the military. We ended abruptly, and that was for the best and I didn't shed a tear. I had an amazing trip to Oregon and made a solid connection with an old acquaintance - he made promises - I made promises - he broke those promises by Christmas. Thanksgiving was pretty horrible - the holidays all together were horrible. New year was horrible - I slept through 12am. Little brother moved in and became disowned for his actions. My mother has not been well. My dad has been getting fucked up beyond belief. Ridiculous rumors were spread and a friendship is in more jeopardy. Had to spend nearly $1,000 last minute to take care of Katy, and we're still not done. Had to cancel my long planned Oregon trip. My sister, yet again, found herself in a fucked in abusive situation and - yet again - we found ourselves rescuing her. This time, it got ugly. Way ugly. And I am bruised and bumped and I can't lift my arms. On top of - I have the flu. 

That just nutshelled my last six months. I had a few good weeks. Just a few. 

I'm lonely. I'm tired. I'm sick. I haven't eaten in days. I'm sore. I'm traumatized. I'm hopeless. I'm desperate. I'm scared. I'm trying so so so hard to just hold on and it's like people keep stepping on my fucking fingers. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I feel ruined. I feel defeated. I feel betrayed. I feel disrespected. 

I don't want to do it anymore.

I really really don't. 

(no subject)

 I feel a bit out of control, but I'm relinquishing without a fight. 

Everyone around me is crumbling, and all I can do is feel like total shit for them, which is selfish and completely nonproductive. I don't want to watch any of my loved ones hit the floor -- but, it seems, three of my favorite women are in a downward spiral that they aren't able to pull out of. I'm worried about Anna - worried to the point of maybe I need to go out to Oregon and be on suicide watch. Part of me is angry about this, and she definitely isn't asking me to, but I know her..... and she's now alone.... and I'm terrified of losing her. 

This house doesn't feel right to me. It feels like a pit-stop. I don't know what step is next for me--- sales are down, and I've got a whopping $200 to my name and $3000 in debt. I'm starting to panic and I need to find some other source of income, be it developing a new product or sucking it up and getting a job.

It's crunch time and I'm starting to feel a full on depression kick in. I found it extremely difficult to get out of bed today, so I didn't -- only to take the dogs out and make a PB&J. .... and to pee a million times. I'm not sure if it's my whacked out hormones or just the fact that I was with Andrew all weekend, and now he's gone again, and our weekends are becoming more and more limited.... and he's going to get his orders any day now. I am so scared of what his orders will be.... I can hardly handle him being in army training two hours away... I don't know how I'll be able to  handle him in Afghanistan. And I'm falling hard. And I don't want this to end. But, I also know, it's going to throw me for a loop and I'm not sure it's the best thing to do for myself. ... to be with a man in another country, in combat, in a war I don't even support, but I have to be 110% supportive of him. 

I need to light the fire under my ass -- I can tell whatever is bringing me down is all chemical, it's all in my head... and I need to regain control over myself. I need to get my business picked up... pronto. I know my focus needs to be on that, because it's all that will keep me sane, and the only productive thing I can do that will solve more than one problem. 

I'm going to be 25 in less than two weeks.... slightly mind blowing, but more of a stupid ass reality check. It's allowed me to look at myself and see, clearly, the gaps in my development that I need to fill in before it's too late. 

Time for my walk. 
I'm forcing myself.

Do it. 

(no subject)

 I'm starting to panic. 

I'm in this new house.

I've left it like four times in two weeks. 

Each time was close by.

And grim.

I don't know what I'm doing here. 

Or why I live in Helotes.

And, as present as I've been,

I have no idea how I got here.

I'm crazy hormonal, I believe. This is one of the very few times in my life that I am actually late for a period - -- and, as I get back on my pill schedule tomorrow, I guess I just won't be having one. This tells me that..... I'm not ok right now. I'm repressing. I've been ok this entire move. Happy, some would say. Productive, patient, joking, 'oh well' attitude. ... a first.

I think a big part of it is being in a relationship.... and in one with a person who is a 'no fuss' kind of guy... old school... walk it off.... suck it up..... army. He is part of my every day and I am fearful of breaking down, so fearful of him seeing me like that. He's so in control of himself, and expects the same of me. I guess it's not very wise to hide a part of myself that is all too often the only part of self I have. 

Why the fuck am I in this house. 

(no subject)

 I hate being dumped.

I hate being dumped when the excuse is completely completely RIDICULOUS.

I hate being dumped when said ridiculousness is DEAD SERIOUS on his part.

I hate being dumped when dead serious means MARRIED WOMAN.

I hate being dumped when married woman means MET HER ONCE AND IS IN LOVE.




Mr. Stable ain't so stable.

He claimed to still want to be with me, but he could not promise emotional monogamy.... which, in my book, is more important than physical monogamy (still, both are each a deal breaker). I don't know. let me.. just. yeah, I need to rehash this clearly.

He texts me from work, we chat back and forth until he asks if I'd like to come over - he'll pick me up on his way home.
We goto Jimmy John's, all is well, he's a space case when he's hungry - so it's just me feeding him dark chocolate and
him concentrating on his destination... we arrive back to his house, I eat about a quarter of my sandwich and leave the rest for him.
We then smoked, went outside and had a few cigarettes while chatting about all of our wood-related ideas and then my lack of driving.

We came back in but things were... not tense, just... electric, in a non-romantic kind of way.
We let the dogs out in the front and are wandering around, having another cigarette --
talking, talking, then.... monogamy comes up, we discuss our views on things and the
psychology of jealousy and resentment, blardy blah....

We end up on his couch, with the pups, and continue on the monogamy subject...
where he then just says, "are we having the relationship talk?"
and I said.. "looks like it."

I asked him what he is looking for, he answered "love".
I asked if he is ready for it, and he said yes.
He then said "I have not slept with anyone since we slept together....."
"but I can't be emotionally monogamous to you.."
"I met a woman last thursday - she's married - but it was instant, it was magical...."
"All that stood between us was that ring. I found the woman I want, I fell hard...."

I just petted the dog.

I was letting my wheels turn.

I think I responded with things,

probably friend-like things....

"married... you shouldn't... I've done that.. nono.." etc......

but then... I said...

"you're fucking stupid. I cook."

from that point on, my 'fuck you' was rising.

because I couldn't cry. I couldn't show anything else.

I had to keep that stiff upper lip. No big deal.

... So, this was at the beginning of our evening, around 8/9...
He didn't take me home until 11:30.

We're high. I needed to smoke to keep level.
He then feels compelled to run his fingers through my hair.
Play with my hands, my fingers, my skin, the hairs on my arms,
squeezing, remembering.... I just watched him do it.

Link, the dog, was on my lap at the time.... because he loves me...
and Matt felt compelled to say "you belong here..."

Do I?

Dig your own grave, asshole.



We talked a lot more. We were open. Honest.
We both gave a good nutshell of our past.
Revealed some skeletons.

I hope he regrets this.
I hope it hurts him.



I am a good catch.
And, for him to deny me over a fantasy?


Oh, but he still wants to hang out and invited me to a party at his house.
Where the woman and her husband will be.

My dad wants me to go.


I do not.

I want to...
go inhale water.


This isn't even all about losing him.

It's everything.

The idea of him was holding me together.

Shit is hitting the fan in this house.



I hate you.

Tomorrow - or, tonight - or ... May 31st at 2;53am will mark 13 years.

I was 13 when I told my mom.
I was 13 when kitty kat died.
I was 13 when he showed up at her funeral.

It's 5pm.
We were sitting on the lawn by the lake,
there were hotdogs and hamburgers,
and he was on his guitar.

That's when i changed from my swimsuit.
I put on my army green tank and the only pair of shorts I owned.
They were big silk boxer shorts with coral pink hibiscus flowers.
My bra was blue. I was a B cup in those days.
I wore that bra for many years after. 
I have since thrown every single thing from that day into the trash.
I even went as far as ripping, nobody needed to carry them anymore.

So, why can't I do that with my memories?

(no subject)


So, I've come to the realization -- and, not so surprising ... I have never had a normal relationship with a man.

The extent to which this whole dating/courting/PROPER behavior THING weirds me out is phenomenal.
I'm not just used to this. what.so.ever. I find myself questioning ... everything.

Don't get me wrong. I love it. I'm loving it. Hating it just as much.
Two dates and he's never even been in my house.

That means they have been real dates.

With door opening.

Hand holding.

Food buying.

Hair smelling.

Thing sharing.

Fact finding.

All face to face.

All of it.

To say it takes me out of my comfort zone is a fucking understatement.

But he's..



I've found myself, on several occasions, researching proper dating etiquette. Apparently the third date is the sex date? The rules of it all really just give me an involuntary eye roll --- but I know that the core of it really has a lot of truth, and I do need to play my cards right and keep information at bay and ...    basically..... not fuck it up.

I'm not sure if third date should be sex date.... this is blowing my mind. I've never waited until a third date for sex, let alone had a fucking third date to wait until. It's absolutely wonderful that a man who respects me is out there... and in my city.... and takes a fancy to me.... me. the hermit. 

But damn did I smile tonight.

(no subject)

I'm having one of those "there is new music that I fell in love with and my head is spinning" days/weeks.
The new Sarah Jaffe is awesome. I have no idea why she gets me where she does.
Something to be said about being two feet away from her, hearing these all before.
I have a total lesbian crush, and I am not afraid to admit that to anyone.

So, here is what I do.
I sit in my bed all day. I sit in this spot, with a laptop in front of me, springs poking me in the ass from this 20 year old mattress and destroying my back and shoulders. I have this laptop open the majority of the day - I get some things done, back and forth. Sometimes I take the laptop with me if I'll be away from my bed for an extended period (15+min). To say I am dependent is an understatement. It's my constant escape - nothing outside of this screen can do much to me as long as my eyes are on it. I can look to my right and see the tops of green trees and sprawling vines wiggling in the wind. I can see sunshine and birds and oxygen and possibilities. Outside. Not in here. In here, I am waiting for death. Not my own, really - just everyone elses.

This isn't a hand, it's a foot. 

Dying to dead is the hard part... living to dead is the hard part. I'm holding my breath on a daily basis. Next in line, my dog... a death that I seemingly have to orchestrate. I have to kill him. My 17 year old. The one who was there before it all happened. He marks years of still innocence. I was still around when he got here, and he's been with me through every single tragedy since. He is not my dog, he's my friend - and I don't have many of those. In fact, I'm not sure I ever really let anyone in. That's an unfortunate realization.



hi overwhelming sadness for others.

hi sheer panic for myself.

I wake up, lazily check facebook, fwd > chuck is cheating on jossi.

this evoked something very... five stages.

now I'm just fucking SAD for her.



I thought they would make it.


Ashley's dad can't get his medicine.

this puts a heavy rock on my gut.

Mom has a sonogram tomorrow for a spot on her liver.

this is dreadful for us all. even her.

I almost feel defeated.
This move... this dream.
This lack of money.
This lack.

I don't know if it can happen.
and maybe I should stop trying.
or maybe I don't really want it.

'one chance' just came on.

I'm just having a wtf moment.

thanks, mercury.