I got my errands done really early today, and since I’m tired of looking at my homework I’m super bored.
I realized I had a ton of livejournal names I wanted to save, and I’m kind of thinking of migrating towards one. I’m so bad about writing journal entries … There’s so much I want to say but a lot of the time I just don’t have the will to write it all down.
I bring this up because I found an old secret livejournal I wrote in, and I apparently wrote in it about four or so years ago. I wrote a lot about World of Warcraft and reading it sort of stings a little, even now. It sucks to know I wasted so much time playing this game. I’m still tempted even now to go back just because sometimes I’m bored, but it really isn’t worth the money or effort. I don’t have friends there and honestly I’m sure the game would become more fun if I didn’t have friends in it. I stopped playing for myself and was playing for my guild, and it sucked. I didn’t get to do anything I wanted to do … I hated raiding after a while and I was growing to hate the people I was raiding with.
Is it bad that sometimes I miss them? I miss when we were all actually friends … but when your life changes, your friends change too I guess. I hate it, I miss having them as friends, but I don’t want them as they are now. I want them as they were then. But I guess even then they didn’t care about ME, they cared about the level 85 priest healer, or the level 70 paladin tank. It’s such a hard notion to accept.
Honestly I’d rather have things as they are now than relive that experience again. It had its good moments but overall it was so stressful and things were always so tense that I don’t think I could handle it again, not with the knowledge I have now. More than anything, how could I ever see coming that Vell would become so damn jealous of me that she’d ignore me to prevent me ignoring her first? I mean, I should have seen it coming, she can be vindictive like that, but it’s still a hard thing to accept that someone pretty much hates you for the good things that happen in your life. What was expected of me, to spiral down into depression for the rest of my life? To finally see the little confidence I have left reap some sort of reward? Not to mention, I know she talks to my cousin Anthony, but why? Is she trying to keep tabs on me so she can laugh from a distance when it all comes crashing down? Is that really what this is about? I hate to say it but that’s the picture I have of her now … I never would have a year ago. We were friends a year ago and we were inseparable, it wasn’t like we couldn’t be inseparable now. I don’t understand WHY. I just wanted to build a relationship with someone I grew to care about and she couldn’t handle that …
I cleaned my room the other day and I found a letter from her from the last time we had a big fight. It was before I enrolled in college and she was saying her goodbyes before “new friends and college took me away from her”. I imagine she cares to some degree but … I don’t know. I got angry reading it and I stuffed it in a drawer. I don’t know if it was the indignation of her thinking that I was something to own like that, or I was mad that she thought I didn’t care about her, or whatever it was, but I just can’t stand the thought of someone hating me like this. It’s been at the back of my mind and now that I’ve got nothing to do it’s bothering the shit out of me.
I don’t think I really want to reconcile our friendship, but I would like to be on at least good or neutral terms. I know we aren’t judging from when she picked her book up from my house. I didn’t even get so much as a “bye” or a “fuck you, see you later” or anything. I don’t even know what I’d say if I had the opportunity. Judging from the big mouths everyone I associate with has I’m sure she’s caught wind of what I think happened, and probably just doesn’t care enough to correct me. Either way, it’s sad that I left a whole group of people including her on such bad terms. I can never ever associate with them again … even if I tried.
What do I do now? I’m so bad at socializing … I don’t really want to make new friends. I mean I do, but I don’t want the responsibility of going and hanging out and shit. I guess I’m not wording that right, but I’m too tired to care at this point about proper wording. I can write about this more some other time … I’m getting sleepy.
New Year’s was kind of stressful, although I have to say that I think I dealt with it better now than I would have say … a year ago. I am much better off now than I was then, and stronger of a person too. With that said, I do not think it is entirely the case of me being stronger …
My mom is someone in my life that I don’t want to be like, and yet am more like her than I ever wanted to be. There are some things my mom says and does that I am proud of to not do or say, but I am still like her and it does bother me. I’m not proud of it at all.
My mom just got out of the hospital from arrhythmia and pericarditis, and not even before she was out of the building much less her room was she screaming at me about how she works so hard and how I did this to her and how I wanted her dead. Somehow this was all my fault …
I don’t think my mom understands how hurtful she is, and then she wonders why I’m completely unsympathetic to her when she has problems. She doesn’t want me to move out, she doesn’t want me to leave and have my own life, she doesn’t want me to get married or anything. I hate this and I feel like she guilts me into this mindset and I let her do it because … well, I don’t know, I’m stupid or something. Or don’t know any better. Or I care too much because her opinion is all I’ve ever known.
I made the comment today that I am attempting to seek therapy for low self esteem and anxiety … and I got told that I only make problems for myself and that there was no reason why me or anyone else should have to go to therapy, and that I’d end up on tons of medication if I went to therapy … What sort of dumb fucking shit is that? Seriously? I don’t intend on taking any pills and certainly a THERAPIST isn’t going to give them to me. I know I shouldn’t be so distraught over it but I wanted someone to be happy that I was trying to be more positive, way to fucking kick me down.
Why can’t I be allowed to seek help? I’m sorry but my family is not good enough to help me. They haven’t been helpful at all and I’m sorry to say it but I don’t know if I want much more to do with them. I’m here because I have to be until my situation improves. After that, all bets are off. I told my mother I wanted to leave, and she got upset because she said she had to worry about me and what I was doing. I don’t intend on staying with her until she’s fucking dead, I need to have a life.
People my age are having kids and being married and having careers and I’m jealous of that because I’ve always been told I’m not mature enough to do that, I’m not old enough, I need to experience more … and I was never allowed to. I have done more on my own in my life in the past six or seven months than I have done … ever. And to be honest, it isn’t stuff that’s all that impressive. I’m HAPPY when I can do things for myself. I’m happy with my job, I’m happy with the friends I’m starting to make, I’m happy with Chris, but I’m so damn down that these are only “sometimes” things that they’re hard to enjoy when I know I have to come back to this shit here with my family. I’m always in such a good mood when I come home from seeing Chris, even if we’ve fought, and then my brother, my aunt, or my mom have to go and ruin it because I’m apparently not paying enough attention to them.
No, I don’t have a solid plan. No, it’s none of your fucking business where I’m going, who I’m with, what I intend to do with my life, or any of it. Leave me alone, for fuck’s sake. I’ve never been able to do anything without the approval of my family and breaking free of it is a lot harder than I thought. They don’t realize exactly how judgmental they are of me, and they don’t realize that every time they scoff at me for wanting to move out or get a car, or go to school or work they just are tearing me down further. I need to be on my own. I need to do things for myself but no one ever lets me do anything, I’m too fragile or too sensitive or not good enough or whatever fucking dumb reason someone wants to come up with at the time. IT DOESN’T CHANGE UNLESS YOU LET ME CHANGE IT, YOU FUCKS.
I wish my Uncle Michael hadn’t died … he’d have been happy for me. He’d have probably even helped me, even if it was to feel better about myself. I identified with him. My grandfather is the least judgmental of them all, and that doesn’t say much. But he understands what I’m saying … My mom and my aunts only hear what they want to hear, and to them I just sound like an idiot.
I’m not an idiot. I have an idea of what I want to do, and that’s all that matters. Let me fuck up somewhere along the way, and stop shoving your stupid, shitty fucking opinions where they don’t belong.
I’m so tired, but this weekend has been interesting, and there are many things I want to try and flesh out here because they just don’t make sense in my head. Let’s start with Friday. Friday I was supposed to go with David to see Daniel graduate, but an hour before I was to go I got a phone call … for a job interview. It was pretty far downtown, but I apologized to David and Daniel, told them that I really needed this job, and that we would try to meet them later to celebrate. I go down to the place and talk to the guy, and it turns out I was interviewing with the district manager. He seems to like me and asks me many questions, and then has me fill out paperwork. I am a little disappointed that I have to go through more paperwork to get a job, but I’m happy with the fact that I was even considered. I take my brother to go get some food and then he drops me off at Chris’ place. I work on some sketches for David’s website logo and I ended up dozing off by the time Chris got home from work, and he brought me a chai tea and a slice of pizza from work. He’s such a doll to me! <3 I called David and asked when he wanted to hang out, but we ended up not going because Chris got really sick and spent most of the evening in the bathroom. He went to bed early and I finished watching whatever it was I was watching on TV, bringing him water and making sure he was comfy before I followed him to bed. Saturday I awoke many times during the night and morning, so I hadn’t slept well. In fact I slept like total shit, and I was hungry to boot. But I didn’t want to go out and spend the little money I had left, so I opted to not eat. He wanted to go out and was testing me to see if I would pick a place to eat, but instead we just went to Target, and he got hair gel. I didn’t say much, and when we came back he wanted to talk. You know, I don’t mind talking. But I must know what it is the conversation is supposed to accomplish, not just talk to make noise. He asked if I was okay, and I said that I was tired and that I was hungry, but didn’t want to spend money and I didn’t want to say so because I didn’t want to have a conversation about how he didn’t mind paying for me, so we instead had a conversation about how I’m too passive and need to take charge more. We’ve had this discussion many times and personally, I like to think I’ve gotten better at making decisions. I at least MAKE decisions now, but I can’t think on the spot, not when I’m constantly thinking “oh, whatever I pick is going to be retarded”, so I’m constantly wracking my brain trying to think of something and then he gets frustrated and then we fight about it. I HATE that so much, and I hate that the few times I have picked things they were met with very vigilant “no”s. I ended up walking out due to frustration and I walked down the road for about 40 minutes, before he called me to have me come back. I don’t think I should have come back when I did, but my fear of passing out from lack of eating overrode any sense of pride I was feeling, so I came back. We talked about my inability to take initiative with things more, and honestly I don’t know how to help that. I honestly wish I were more forceful with sex. I wish I could make faster decisions, but I overthink things too much and I end up doing nothing. I’m not proud of that and I absolutely hate that I do it, but I don’t know how to stop it. The only thing that really ground my gears was the sex thing, which I’ll get into next and you’re welcome to skip the paragraph if you like. Scroll over the next paragraph if you don’t want to read it, I don’t remember how to do journal cuts. We had to use condoms this time because I’m not currently using my BC, and apparently I have really … loud, shall we say, knees. So much that it was annoying, and afterwards we went through two condoms because he couldn’t feel anything. I tried to at least make it enjoyable for him, but … I guess my mouth is too small or something, I might’ve been hurting him. I’m also really new to sex, so that’s probably what it is too. So … that didn’t end too well last night and I feel disappointed in myself for it. Honestly, how can I be that bad at sex? I’m ashamed and it makes me not want to try anymore … I want to, but I feel horrible that I can’t do anything. The other thing that bothered me was that a few weeks ago he said his sex drive was low because of stress, but yesterday he told me he was sexually frustrated and that we apparently don’t have sex enough? What sort of sense am I supposed to make of that? Not to mention every time I HAVE taken charge, it’s resulted in me failing at it or just being flat out told no. The night he told me his sex drive was low I told him that he never let me do anything, and that I needed encouragement. I still didn’t get any encouragement or guidance or anything … I don’t know what to do about it. What am I supposed to do? How is it entirely my fault when I can’t even get anything from him to let me know I’m doing SOMETHING right? Earlier that same night, after we fought he offered to let me cook (which I haven’t gotten to do in ages for him, even though I’ve offered), and I declined because I didn’t know what to make. He wanted me to cook really badly (mostly because it would give me something to do and would make me feel better, which I commend him for noticing and acting on) and we went to the store. I asked him what kind of meat I should work with, and he took that as a sign of me asking his approval. I don’t WANT approval, I want input. It’s going in your face too, dammit, I want to at least make something you want. We got veggies and chicken to make stir fry, and a few things to make cookies and a case of beer. I offered to use the last bit of my money to buy a few things, but he declined and told me that making would be enough. We came back and I got right started on cooking, and he was doing some fixing to the minecraft server. I made my teriyaki sauce, marinated the chicken, and started the cookie dough. Cookies weren’t sweet at all, they tasted more like bread. We couldn’t use them. While I was cooking I got a phone call, and it turns out I landed the job that I had interviewed for the day before. He was happy for me and we celebrated! We ate dinner outside and he cleaned up (telling me to go relax, even though I was more relaxed than I had been in ages), and the night was fine (until later, which I’d described up there.) We went to his friend’s house and hung out with them, drank some beers and went to Wendy’s together, then watched Regular Show and the Mighty Boosh. We came back and played some minecraft and drank before bed. The next morning I woke up about 10 or so, made some breakfast, and finished watching Breaking Bad. I finished my food and came back to snuggle in bed with Chris a while longer, then he got up and we watched the rest of Breaking Bad while he played Skyrim. Then he had to get ready for work and left just as my brother came by. This weekend was interesting and I’m excited to start work tomorrow. I work next door to Chris, actually! The liquor store they assigned me to is next door to his Starbucks :) I hope that I can save enough to get a car and move out, finally. I worry about he and I sometimes, and I know that I need to take charge more. I just wish he’d help me, isn’t that what being together is about? Maybe I’m missing the point here, but I do want a bit more encouragement from him, especially in regards to intimacy.
It is difficult to learn how to step out of one’s shell. This weekend proved that. I had a lot of fun, but it really is a hurdle that you just have to power through to get over.
Once you do though, how do you act? What do you do in situations that you aren’t familiar with? There are so many questions I have that make me fearful of even passing said hurdle, because once I get there I don’t know what to do. Maybe I really haven’t passed it after all? Who knows.
This is probably not a subject people want to hear about, but my menstrual cycle really does affect me in ways that it should not normally do. I need to get it under control … it is ruining me. I cannot socialize, I cannot think, I cannot be rational while I am going through it. My emotions are a whirlwind and my train of thought has no brakes. I panic, I grow paranoid, I cry, I stew, and find myself being upset over things that are not real. The fact that I even do this, whether or not it’s normal to be doing it, is terrifying. This isn’t the person I imagined being. I imagine myself as a rational individual who thinks before she acts.
I think that while I am going through my menstrual cycle, I pay less attention to what is around me and more to what I am feeling in the moment in order to keep myself under control. I feel bad that I am always asking Chris to repeat himself when he speaks to me. It isn’t his fault, it’s my own. I am too worried about saying something stupid that “DON’T SAY ANYTHING STUPID” is the only thing I can hear in my head rather than what is coming out of his mouth, and that’s just plain rude. I wish that I knew how to control my brain and make it slow down. It is the reason I get upset and stress out, it is the reason I am paranoid, that I cry and stew over things that are not actually happening.
I’m not a partier. I’m more introspective. I like quiet. I could watch the day go by in utter silence beside someone and just enjoy their presence. That is enough for me. I have my party moments if I am in the right mood, though. I can be outgoing in places where I am comfortable, where I know I will be accepted. But I am never really sure of that and I am too scared to try, to be rejected. I hate that I am scared of everything and am never prepared for the things people say to me. I wish I had more time to make good decisions, because I am terrified of making the wrong ones.
I did enjoy myself this weekend at Screamfest, there is no doubt about that. I am not exactly a WHOOPEE kind of person, and anything that I do that with is an exaggeration. It is the result of a thought occurring and for once, not going through the brain and mouth filters. It is pure unadulterated emotion, and sadly it occurs over the most ridiculous of things (like ducks.)
With that said, again, I enjoyed myself. I didn’t know anything about what I was looking at for the most part, save for a few things here and there. I didn’t recognize a lot of costumes, I didn’t recognize anyone famous, and I interacted with a lot of people I had never met before. It was a nice experience and my first real one at a convention, so I am glad for it. I wish that I knew more about everything there so I could have appreciated it a little more, but I am not sure just yet. I have so many new things to watch now that I am not entirely sure I can get into the whole horror thing. Sure, some things about it are pretty neat. I find it hard to enjoy things like skeletons or modern gothic-themed art or zombies—don’t get me wrong, they have awesome premises in their own rights, but it is hard to see the coolness in something like a zombie that moves slow and isn’t very smart. I was taught that that is what zombies are, so what’s so scary about that? Is it impending doom? Run the fuck away, bitch.
I think the unknown is more terrifying. Things that you could never dream up without the help of some serious drugs. I like monsters and aliens and ghosts, things you couldn’t compare to anything else. Stuff that makes you go “how is that even alive?” and junk. My tired brain can’t articulate this well at all …
I guess my point is that I’m not into the horror thing as much as I thought I was. It was fun, just not really my cup of tea. I found myself staring at the toys in the dealer’s room an awful lot, namel the legos, the transformers, and star wars and harry potter stuff. I suppose horror is something that has to grow on you, or something you have to appreciate from childhood on. I guess you have to want to be scared, want to believe it’s real and find that fear of it from within yourself, and that is more imaginative than I think I am capable of being. I admire people that can do that, because I can’t pretend to be into something like that.
I love robots, I love time travel, I love gadgets and aliens and exploring new worlds and lasers and mobile suits and sleekly-designed spaceships. I love magic and fantastic creatures that can help you as much as they can hurt you. I love the idea of being taught to master something that puts you in control of so much more than others are capable of wielding. I love seeing the ideas of how far the human race will go, what we think we’re capable of. I love it because I’m not imaginative. I let others do that work for me. I wish I was imaginative, but I don’t think I am.
Would it hurt me or the people around me if I just spoke more? Even if it was stupid? Would it be better for me to voice my thoughts than to keep them in and risk being thought of as unhappy? It is rare that I am unhappy when I am out. When I am unhappy I make it known. I sat down and read a book for an hour at the convention because my ankles were killing me from walking in heels all day, and I also just needed to recharge, get away from the crowd. I did not expect to be so unnerved by merely being in the company of others … I should have expected it, but I didn’t. At least I am better prepared for a situation like that. I don’t know why crowds bother me so much. I was not upset to sit and read my book, that was what I wanted to do! Chris checked on me a couple times, thinking I was upset or angry, and it’s possible he is convinced that I was. I don’t know if he reads this but I don’t think the magnitude of how much I need to have personal space has shown itself until now. This is what it is to be an introvert, and any introvert knows that feeling when the crowd is too much for them. It was too much for me, and I got away. If I could read and walk in heels in a crowd at the same time, I would have. Just to stay with the group. But I couldn’t do that. I either would have killed myself, someone else, or asked why I was reading and probably feel like I should put my book away instead.
I don’t like to be a downer, I really don’t. I just … I don’t know how to function around people. I honestly and truly don’t know how to do it. I watch and observe others, I make mental notes, I go through scenarios in my head, and it just is never enough to prepare me when I get turned to and asked “So what should we do next?” I actually stammered today when asked that question. I so desperately wanted to give a good answer and make the trip worthwhile, so I suggested wandering around the dealer’s room once more. We did and got a few things out of it, and it was nice. I just hate that I had to be scared shitless to answer a question.
Answering questions, spending time with others, and having fun, at least for me, a constant measurement of “when am I going to freak out?” rather than going with the flow. I can do that if others make the decisions and base my own off of what sounds good, be it lagging behind or running ahead. But I do not like to be in charge of things. I don’t know why. I think I am afraid to lead, because I do not want to go in the wrong direction.
My perfectionism is flaring up. It’s time to wrap this up and sleep on it.
I think too much.
There’s been a lot of time recently when I have worried about the outcome of many things in my life. Relationship, school, family … all of them have weighed on me and more of them, especially my relationship, are weighing on me right now.
I am afraid. I am afraid of losing what is dear to me and I am afraid of not being good enough. Am I pretty enough? Do I look nice today? Am I smart enough? Am I affectionate enough? If I’m not any of these things, how do I do them more? I spend so much time thinking about how I’m not good enough at any of this to even work on fixing whatever little problems are wrong. My thoughts eat away at my brain and sanity, leaving nothing but a cold and quiet exterior that gives no affection, gives no opinion, thought, or anything, cares not for appearance, and is hardly on planet Earth when spoken to.
It needs to end now.
I am pretty enough, I am smart enough. I may not be that independent, but I’m working towards that and it’s better than not working towards it at all. I make decisions for myself. I put forth the effort to find work and take care of what I need to take care of. I love school and I’ve no intentions of quitting it. I have wide hips, a pretty face, nice hair, and I strive to improve my physical health for the sake of being healthy, although I must admit that doing it also partly stems from a need to prove to myself and to others that those of us who aren’t quite as pretty as those who are lucky enough to not have to work hard for it can look just as good if not better. I’m smart enough to not need to ask for much help on my homework. I’m smart enough to make good decisions with little probing, and the only probing I would need is to actually make the decision itself. I want to teach history, I want to learn to nurture a satisfying relationship, I want to show that I am good enough to not just others, but to myself.
I’m not very experienced in life. I’m not very experienced in anything, really. I don’t know much about being an adult—I don’t know how to drive a car, I don’t know how to fill out those deposit slips at the bank, I don’t know how to flirt, I don’t know much about sex, I don’t know how the inside of a car works, and I don’t know how to grill a steak. There’s really an awful lot I don’t know that someone my age should know, and I just don’t. I want to learn and add it to the things I DO know, but I’m just not sure how.
Speaking of things I do know, here’s a few of them: I DO know how to make a mean pasta sauce. I know how to cook awesome orange chicken. I know how to file my taxes. I know how to paint a room. I know how to put up and fix drywall. I know how to shop smart. I know how to sew a button and make a comfy blanket. I know how to properly read nutrition labels. I know how to peel a banana with zero effort. I know how to put on makeup. I know how to iron clothes. I know what I like in bed, but am too afraid to say it. I know that I am what makes me successful, not anything else.
I am my ticket out of my predicament, not anyone else. The affection I feel for someone else is well and good, but not if I have no affection for myself. If I cannot love myself I cannot do anything for myself, and that would be the real tragedy here.
I am lucky, I am pretty, I am smart, and I am here in this life. Now I must make the effort. Take it or leave it, this is me. It’s not about female empowerment, it isn’t about proving myself because I’m a woman, it’s about just learning to love who I am and what I am capable of. I cry a lot, I have irrational likes and dislikes, and a lot of what I say makes sense in my head but none when it comes out of my mouth. I laugh at inappropriate times and I love goofy music. But more than anything I love what my life could be. I want it to be real.
I just need to take the first step.
Je supposes je serai pratique moi française! Ce n’est pas très bon, mais non le plus mal. Avez-vous voulez préfére pour moi d’ecrire une histoire en français, ou d’inclure simplement la langue français dans le dialogue? Dites-moi, s’il vous plaît!
The stacks upon stacks of paper that clutter my desk should lead one to believe that I was an author. Many people would jump at the chance to rifle through such a treasure trove for a piece of writing to make a silver off of, something to pass off as their own. But they’ll be hard pressed to find any inkling of even a short story in the sheaves of parchment all over my study.
Alas, I am married to my work. Incantations, recipes, references translated into other tongues, and runes litter these pages. No fanciful writing here. They all think I’m up here working on some great piece of literature.
I’m not. I’ve simply got tall orders to fill.
I don’t have much time these days for relaxation. My passion is my work, but the feelings in it are far from passionate. No longer do I write my glyphs with such attention & care to detail; I churn them out in my sleep. I no longer personalize my completed works, branding them as uniquely mine; now they seem factory-made. The love in it is all gone, but still I chain myself to this desk to find the love I once had for it.
However, I still retain a small book in the bottom of my desk drawer. No one knows of it, not even that nosy girl. Today’s one of the days when I open it up and read it.
In this tattered old book are words. Not always sentences, but sometimes just words. Archaic ones that I never hear get used anymore. I’ve decided to add to it today, dipping my quill into my ink bottle before I pen the word into this secondary memory: Ostentatious.
Mannerisms that are intended to attract attention, usually to impress others.
I add it not without reason. There’s been a lot of ostentatious behavior pointed in my general direction as of late. Flattering, almost. It takes more than flashy behavior to garner my full attention, but my ears are perked. I am listening now.
My eyes scan the tiny pages over my past writings, relishing the warmth I get knowing that I’ve saved these words from extinction, captive and treasured in this little book. Vectarious, jussulent, pamphagous … They all deserve to be loved and saved. I will love them, I will save them. Just like …
Ostentatious. I am listening. Maybe this is what will save me from myself. The words mean nothing without sharing them.
You have my attention. I am waiting.
