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
