I am a hormonal nightmare at present. I am also missing Jason fiercely and the distance is totally getting to me. The fairly small insecure section of my personality is having trouble with the fact that he's been very busy and exhausted from work and hence not online much. I am 99.9% sure everything's fine, but my imagination sometimes starts to get the better of me in those long hours alone. When the insecure part hooks up with the previously pulverized part, that really really sucks. That is when the little voice isn't just saying, "I wonder what he's up to," it's saying, "You're a friggin idiot if you don't think something's wrong! Don't be stupid! Don't ignore the warning signs! Don't let someone hurt you again!" Ugh. I friggin hate the guys before him who made me over think and microscopically examine everything. And I hate it that I can't just be supportive and understand that he's got a lot going on -- things I'm not even aware of because I am here and he is there. I have no sense of how his day goes, except for the selection of events I hear about. This shouldn't be about me and how much attention I need. I guess with however-many-thousand miles between us, this relationship is largely based on the honor system and truthfully, I trust him more than some people I lived with, which is amazing, but... *sigh* It's just such a new experience. It's a totally new combination of factors. Most of the time I am insanely happy. Then a few days go by with an unanswered email here or text message there and I have to fight the urge to think too much into it. He promised to be honest with me, good or bad. I initially took comfort in that. Bt the stupid second-guessy part is like, "He says he'll always tell you the truth, but what if that is a lie?" Aaaaaaaaaaah!! Like I said, these moments are so friggin infrequent, and that may be why they sting so much. I suppose if I was used to getting slapped in the face, it wouldn't surprise me to get slapped in the face. I just love him and miss him and want to be with him. Like, yesterday. Ugh. I need to remind myself that this is probably "normal" (whatever the hell that means!) and just because he's not getting up in the middle of the night to talk to me anymore doesn't indicate a problem. It indicates that we've moved out of the infatuated, compulsive phase. And that is okay. Right?
So here's my bitch fest from tonight. It's the closest thing I've written to a literary (editorial?) piece in a long time, so I figured I'd post and show off my misanthropy and cynicism. Ha ha ha.
OK, I have to say it. Please read the italicized paragraph below, the brace yourself for a rant.
if you would jump in front of a bullet for your girlfriend, boyfriend, best friend,family member, or just a person you love, repost this.
Tonight, your 1 love will call, kiss, or ask you out... ....if you break this chain, you will be PUNISHED,
repost: who would u die 4?
Where does this bullshit come from? (And to the person who posted it, I am not crapping on you so please don't take it like that. I am speaking to the originators of the crap, not the perpetuators.)
Seriously, is there some centralized MySpace Curse Registry where one can go to submit a proposed bulletin and have afflictions, banes, burdens, calamities, disasters, jinxes, pestilence, plagues, scourges, torments, tribulations, troubles, assorted repercussions assigned in the event that the response ordered is not carried out? (I love THESAURUS.COM!) On a side note, if cursing has moved into the digital age and can now be done online with secure credit card processing, I have a few I'd like to order. Anyway... I am honestly wondering what magical facility impregnates these digital documents with such abilities -- abilities which remain inexplicably intact despite copy and paste after copy and paste -- and why they are so dead set on the negative. At lest with email spam, if you forward something to 10 friends in 2 seconds, your phone will ring and you will win the lottery or hear from your best friend from high school or the love of your life or something good. On MySpace, it seems if you don't repost, your house will get struck by lightning, your bank account will be hacked, your dog will choke on a ball, your car will spontaneously explode, your breath will forever smell like cat shit, blah blah blah…
I love this Curse Bulletin phenomenon almost as much as I love the InTeNtIoNaLlY iNaRtIcUlAtE tExT, shameless attention seeking and pictures of guys standing in front of their cars.
Ugh. I just had a realization. Expecting extensive evidence of intelligence on MySpace is like trying to find the corner in a round room, isn't it?
With that, I am going to pop some Midol and go simmer down. Good night y'all!
Oh yeah, and if you don't repost this in 10 seconds, you're going to have uncontrollable flatulence that smells like rotten shrimp and burnt rubber forever!
I passed a church on the way home last night. Generally, I don't want anything to do with things church or religion-related. That is not to say I don't respect religion or church -- I just don't find my own spirituality in books or buildings. Anyway…
This church has a little sign out front -- the kind that lights up at night and one writes his or her message letter by letter (black letters on clear plastic.) Nothing fancy. I would even go beyond "not fancy" and say it looked a little sad -- rusty, surrounded by the remaining dirty crust of last week's snow, crooked. Not something that would necessarily draw one's attention.
But it did. The message caught my attention. It said:
Trouble getting to sleep? Count your blessings.
I do believe I will try that next time I am lying there awake staring at the ceiling. I have a ceiling to stare at, there is a bed beneath my body, I will wake up in a safe place tomorrow and have something good to eat and get in my car and go to work and bring home a paycheck. I have all my limbs and no terminal illnesses. My family loves me. Jason loves me. And no matter what silly crap keeps me up at night, way worse tragedies are keeping other people up at night.
We take so many blessings for granted. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but that little sign provided one of those rare moments of gratitude for me. We Americans have it so fucking good and from so much goodness comes a sense of entitlement and taking things for granted. I'm sure I will once again lapse into that mindset (I believe we all do, even the most noble, appreciative person) but yesterday… Yesterday I remembered all the things I have to be thankful for.
Posted @ 9:51 PM
Sunday, March 18, 2007
I heard the term "Fat Girl Angle Shot" used on an evening radio show last weekend. I was torn between being offended and thinking it was hysterically funny. The potential offense came from the fact that I myself am a "fat girl" --THERE!! I said it! I am not a size 2 and never will be. The amusement comes from the fact that this method, though obviously not brought to light out of caring and concern for the evident insecurity of girls and women who have utilized it, is definitely a real thing and there is humor in finally stating the obvious. (This sort of ties in to a rant of mine from September of last year -- click here to read.) Anyway, so here I am, on the fence. Laugh or take offense? I guess both.
To the men coining phrases like "Fat Girl Angle Shot": You sure you're not on someone's list of guys with PMS? Puny Man Syndrome is a very real disorder and I -- and the women of FGASs, I'm sure -- encourage you to embrace your little penis and love it for what it is: the best you're gonna get. Make the most of it. Nobody's perfect.
To the women posting the FGASs: If you're uncomfortable enough with your body that you go out of your way to hide it, why not make some positive changes in your life? You may never be skinny (I know I won't!) but you also shouldn't be so down on yourself as to disguise who you really are.
On that note, here ya go. Get up, come on get down with the thickness...
P.S. And for goodness' sake, please don't take this as a personal shot at anyone. Sometimes the FGAS is indistinguishable from the TASP (Truly Artistic Self-Portrait). I know it, you know it. And if you're feeling offended, perhaps your pictures are more FGASs and than TASPs. It's all really a matter of how you feel about yourself, right?
Buck up, chunky girls! There is room on this god-forsaken internet for all of us.
Posted @ 6:28 PM
Saturday, March 10, 2007
I am the kind of girl who will paint my toenails pink and then go run in the mud, or give myself a facial and then change my oil, so the fact that I liked the guns shouldn't be a surprise. But it is.
Barb and Sarah were better shots than I am (currently), but Aaron (Sarah's husband) said the fact that a lot of my shots were clustered is good, even if they weren't all in the center of the target. Maybe he was just trying to make me feel better, I'unno... But I had fun and it was a rush and I hope to do it again.
It's raining tonight and as I drove home on the back roads, all shiny and black and hissing like snakes under my tires, I got my first sense of spring. I feel very alive today. I'm sure it's a simple matter of brain chemicals (and probably the Coke I glugged earlier?), but whatever... Feeling good is feeling good. Yay for that.
I'm going to go find something to do. Happy Saturday.
Posted @ 9:57 PM
Thursday, March 08, 2007
I'm having one of those weak, sappy moments that I try to talk other people out of. Jason has been busy and going to bed early (and I am very glad he is taking care of himself) but I stll miss him and it is times like these, when I am freezing and lonely and have no one to talk to about my day, that 3235 miles is way too much. Don't get me wrong -- absolutely no second thoughts, just one of the rare occasions where my head comes out of the clouds long enough to see that I am alone. *sigh*
Well, I spoke live with Collie today (via Yahoo IM) which was cool. I am kind of excited that I have 2 new friends (Joy, you're the other one! ) I don't like many people -- especially girls -- and I am way too reclusive for my own good, so this is promising. I am actually looking forward to getting out and doing new things with new people. It is becoming clear to me hat my relationship with Jay was way more stagnant and suffocating than I realized. I think that had a lot to do with my being extra antisocial (I say "extra," 'cause I know damn well I have that tendency with or without him.) Anyway, so nowadays, most of the time I am feeling like my old self -- a happy, bubbly, silly girl who has lots of fun. Can't wait to be happy, bubbly and silly with other happy, bubbly, silly people.
Tomorrow is pay day and I think I'm going to get to shoot guns on Saturday. Fuck yeah!
TGIF, in advance.
Posted @ 7:31 PM
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Back during the many years in which I was single and full of fluffy idealism, I used to watch chick flicks to fill the void -- watch other people act out carefully constructed, totally impossible, romantic perfection. I would cry at the end, feel some kind of weird grief for the relationship, love, closeness I was lacking, down a pint of Ben & Jerry's and call it a night. It's been a very long time since I indulged (or more submitted, I guess) to that ritual.
I have recently become completely hooked on Grey's Anatomy. I was not a fan from day one, but I am so thoroughly enthralled that I felt the need (OK, compulsion) to catch up by binge-watching the first two seasons. Last weekend, I tackled Season One, which was no big deal, because it was only nine 40-ish-minute episodes. But Season Two... Well, let's just say I am on disc five now and still have a ways to go. In am shamelessly obsessed with the goings-on between Meredith Grey and Dr. McDreamy, Izzie and Alex, Christina and Burke, and George and Callie. I don't really care about Addison and Mark, but let's just say for the sake of argument that I do. I am totally submerged in the sap, and I like it.
At this point you're probably wondering where I'm going with this...
Well, I had a sort of surreal moment of realizing that I am once again partaking in the single-girl chick-flick ritual -- or a version of it -- with two very important changes:
1) I am eating fat free chocolate pudding
2) I am not feeling some kind of weird grief for the relationship, love, closeness I am lacking; I am warmly and fuzzily (is that even a word?) thinking about the relationship, love and closeness I have.
What a fucking awesome difference!
Posted @ 9:41 PM
