Cold, harsh reality...

wonderwall

2012-01-18T02:20:00.003-06:00

After everything you've done to me, I still love you. There's this empty spot in my heart where you used to be. I can't sleep and I can't think.

Mostly, I'd like to know why? Why would you do this to me knowing that I loved you? How could you lie to my face and play my friends, too? Every word you ever spoke was complete bullshit. I believe that you loved me, but your actions betray you words.

It makes me sick to think about all the time I spent with you. I want to cry, but my tears don't come anymore. To think that you, my friend, my lover, hurt me more than Marcus ever did, kills me. Not only did I lose a friend, I lost someone I thought could be the one. And for what? I'm better than she will ever be and you know that. You know that I would be the one to get you back on the right track. I could have been the one to save you, but you couldn't just let me. I never wanted you to leave your children. I wanted to be a part of their lives, too. I wanted it to be you and I against this crazy world. I never thought for a second that it would end like this. Every thing you said, every I love you, every I need you in my life...they crush me. Each time I think of your voice and think of you touching my face and holding me when I cried, I die a little more inside.

How could you do this to me? I begged you to just tell me you wanted me out of your life. You pushed back, saying that you couldn't do that because it would be a lie. Now, I'm gone. I'm out of your life, but I am out of my own life, too. Nothing is the same without you. I'm trying to make this feeling go away. I don't even know what this feeling is. It's like being completely numb, but in horrible pain at the same time.

It's hurting me to know that you're over there right now...with her. You told me it was me that you wanted, but then you do this? You couldn't be a man and just tell me you wanted me out of your life. You had to drag me into the muck and ghetto situation with you. It seems you're only happy when someone else hurts. I hate that. You used to be such a positive person. There was always a smile on your face. You were always joking and jumping around. That wasn't the same person I saw last night.

Last night, I saw a confused and frightened little boy. You don't know what you want anymore. You can't even form a sentence without including a lie.

One part of me hopes you get prison time. The other part of me hopes that you stay free for your kids. Either way, you need a wake up call. Do you think your children deserve a father like this? Are you going to raise your daughter to date someone like you? A liar and a manipulator? If Isaiah is ever cured, do you want him to grow up and be a womanizing liar like his father and grandfather? Is that what you want?

2012-01-13T06:08:00.002-06:00

I've done some really stupid shit this last week. Aside from blowing over $500 on booze and gambling, I've been doing some things I am not proud of. I've become a raving lunatic.

I've always been a little loud and off-kilter, but this breakup has brought out the absolute worst in me.

I am trying to forgive myself. I am trying to change who I am. I want to be someone else. I want to be someone who doesn't have to ask f6r help, but will if they need to. I want to be someone that my friends are proud of. More so, I want to be someone my grandparents don't worry about 24/7.

This has been a long time coming, but I have to make a change sometime.

Sleepless

2012-01-03T04:44:00.002-06:00

I know there are some that still read this blog and I am okay with that, but let me apologize in advance for what you're going to be seeing on here over the next year or so.

I read somewhere journaling helps with the healing process after a breakup. It suggested that instead of simply writing about random things, you delve into the reasons for your breakup. Instead of placing blame, the article implores its readers to explore the reasons for the breakup and find the lessons that they've learned.

But what if the reasons for the breakup are too complicated to analyze? What if even you don't understand the reason for the breakup?

I know that I broke up with him because I was tired of being alone. In my mind, a relationship consists of two people that want to spend as much time as possible with each other. We had that for about 9 months. When we started dating, we were inseparable. Our six and a half year friendship morphed into something easy and almost beautiful. We wanted to be around each other. We went out. We went to dinner. We spent time with my friends (but never his...RED FLAG IGNORED.) We even danced to Sinatra in seedy bars. We text and called each other when we were apart. My friends adored him. Everything was as perfect as possible...or at least as perfect as I'd ever had. Sure, occasionally, we argued about trivial shit. Sometimes we both had too much to drink and spouted off about something we shouldn't have, but in general, everything was amazing.

In August, I get a phone call. He's begging me not to be bad. He's telling me he understands if I hate him. And I did. When I found out that the mother of his first child was going to give birth to his second child the next day, I was furious. How is one expected to handle something like that? We fought for a few days. Some of my dearest friends sat me down and convinced me that he loved me. After begging them to talk some sense into me, I came around. I mean, she got pregnant before we were together. And if he really hated her as much as he said, maybe he did avoid her when he went to pick up his son. Maybe he really ignored her as much as possible, so maybe he really had no idea she was pregnant. I ultimately took him back.

We were great again. We were us again. Back to the mushy, overly adorable couple that made people a little ill. You know? The ones you want to scream "GET A FUCKING ROOM ALREADY!" at from across the room? It was pure bliss for me. Before him, I'd never been part of that couple and never experienced that type of "love."

So what happened? Well, when you're months into the relationship and you've still not met his friends, those red flags go up. You start getting suspicious when you start spending less and less time together. When that honeymoon phase is over, you begin to see the real sides of people. He started accusing me of sleeping with other guys. If I talked to someone else at the bar longer than he liked, he said I was oblivious and that I couldn't see I was being hit on. He began questioning if I really loved him or if I was using him for sex. We stopped sleeping together as frequently. This led to me questioning his questions. Why was I all of a sudden being accused of everything under the sun? What was he doing behind my back? Was this displaced guilt? He promised that nothing was going on with his baby's mother and that he would never blindside me. He assured me that I was stuck with him.

Then he got a DUI and things crumbled so much that I wanted to end it. I wanted to move on and salvage what was left of our friendship. But he insisted that I was being irrational and stated again that I was stuck with him because he loved me.

Holidays are a big deal for me. I'm the sentimental type. I begin every holiday at my grandparents and make my rounds to several friends' homes. At the end of the night, I like to be with my significant other, curled up together with some wine and conversation. He knew this. We had discussed this. So when Thanksgiving rolled around and he stopped answering his phone, I was rightfully concerned. When I found out later that evening that he had spent the day AT his babies' mother's house with his friends, I was livid. I know people that are separated from their children's parents. That is not normal behavior.

Things never righted themselves after that. He started accusing me more fervently. I was expected to go straight home after class and work while he spent time elsewhere. I couldn't take it. I finally broke up with him. I still loved him, but enough was enough. I think it was more to prove a point than it was to end the relationship forever...

After that, I started realizing certain things. All the red flags I had ignored out of blind trust and love, started slapping me in the face. I found out that he had been with the mother of his children for years and that they were together while I was with him. Tonight, I was confronted by this woman. The one he expressed so much hatred towards. The one he claimed was so abhorrent that only he would sleep with her. The tangled mess of my heart took this final blow tonight...I listened as he told her I was a "liar" and that he had never cheated on her. After years of friendship, nearly a year of being a couple, and 8 months of being lovers, I was a liar. He tossed everything we had like an empty bottle of Jager. To him, I was dispensable. To him, I wasn't as important as this other woman.

I can only explain this feeling as emptiness. I don't hate him. I hate myself. I hate that I believed the lies. I hate that towards the end, he tore me down. All the self-confidence I had built from my relationship with Marcus is ruined. All of the trust issues that I had worked out when Marcus left are back.

This isn't one that can be worked out. I don't know that I've learned a lesson from this. My last relationship took me almost 3 years to get over. I worked so hard on myself and my issues only to have my fears realized. I wonder if there's something wrong with me or if Marcus and Terrence are just horrible men incapable of overcoming their own insecurities.

Terrence, my friends, and I all know the real story. They know about all the memories we made. I know that I'll never be able to listen to "Fly Me to the Moon" again without a tear in my eye. I can only hope that somewhere in his cold, blackened heart, he feels something. I don't care if it's guilt, remorse, or just remembrance, I want him to feel something.

But that's not on me. Blame too many episodes of My Name is Earl, but this time, I will not retaliate. I won't chase after him like I did Marcus. I won't allow myself to be pulled back into his lies, like I did with Marcus. I'm not even going to do anything to prove my point. I'm just going to walk away and focus on myself again. Maybe one day, I'll get the satisfaction of knowing he feels something...The satisfaction that provides some closure...But that's not for now. Now is time for me.

2011-12-20T03:52:00.002-06:00

I hate to do this, but I need to write. I NEED to. It's not some desperate cry for attention, it's that I visit my blog occasionally and read my old posts. I used to write. It wasn't good. It wasn't even decent, but it was me.
Why did I stop writing? I lost my muse. I gained a habit. I miss my muse...So much that I try to bring him back, but I realize that the chapter of my life where he was the star is over. He's just a bit player now.

The new one that I thought that would be my new muse is nothing but a creativity murderer. He doesn't make me think. He makes me angry. He makes me vengeful. He makes me all the things Marcus didn't. I don't know that I like it, but it's whatever at this point.

So I am doing this...Marvin's Room - Drake vs. Marvin's Room - JoJo.

Drake pours his heart into this song. It's needy. It's pathetic. It's everything that the critics don't get. He's reaching. Many claim it's "a drunk dial set to music," but what is a drunk dial? It's plea for love and affection. When you're drunk, you think you're some great speaker and you feel you've got it all figured out...

"After a while girl they all seem the same
I’ve had sex four times this week, I’ll explain
Having a hard time adjusting to fame"

This is not what it seems. Yeah, dude partied. He got drunk. He's not happy with his fame. He's telling her that "she could do better." He remembers all of this... When you're with someone like that? You want someone like that. You need to tell them about how you can't deal with this and that...

Fuck this. I wrote. I feel better. I suck at reviews, but I know that everyone that has reviewed this song missed out on all the underlying insecurities of the artist. This is, for real, my favorite new rapper...Aside from Dr. Lector and Childish Gambino, of course.

"

2011-12-07T03:44:00.003-06:00

We've been fighting for so long, I don't know what we're fighting about.
I have no idea what we're holding on to.

I miss him. The him I am fighting with and the him I fight myself to forget.

2011-03-21T04:50:00.002-05:00

I want him on me. I want him inside of me. I want him near me.

I don't want that to fuck THIS up.

What is this though? Is it a spring fling? Could it be a temporary distraction from his normal routine?

I almost called it quits earlier. And for what? a missed text? Wow. Yeah. I'm ridiculous, but I'm saying now, if that video wasn't posted for me? I'm one exceptionally jealous woman.

Twitterpated

2011-03-18T03:39:00.003-05:00

I feel like something is going to go horribly wrong very soon.

I've been happier this week than I've been in years. I'm not accustomed to this. I'm just waiting for the bottom to fall out.

I know I'm not IN LOVE, but how do you go from being friends to this without fucking something up? Is it possible? And if we fuck it up, can we go back to being friends or is it over forever?

Am I the only one that finds it impossible to be happy being happy?

I don't know what to do right now, so I am going with it. I'm hiding nothing. I have trust issues. He knows this. He has trust issues, I know this. I just hope that he's being honest. I'm honestly pushing the bounds of my security.

If someone makes me forget Marcus, they're worth the risk. That's where I am now.

2011-02-12T04:48:00.002-06:00

There's a person inside of me that loves you more than me. And the hurt and the pain that you put me through? She takes it as learning experience. She thinks that my life is not my own. That little person is never around when I do bad things. She doesn't deal with you every day like I do. She doesn't feel the condescending tone in your voice when I fuck up. She doesn't know the hurt I deal with when I hear someone else's name. We occupy the same body, but she's not me.

Is there someone that is not you? Does a little person in you feel guilty when I'm sad? Does that person cry when I'm happy? Does that person mourn the loss of what we had? Does he wonder where my innocence went?Does he love me more than you?

2011-02-09T13:53:00.001-06:00

DAMNIT. I'm doomed! DOOOOOOOMMMMEEEEDDDDD!!! I'm never going to get into grad school! My friends are ten times more intelligent than myself. :( FUCK!

2011-02-08T13:30:00.001-06:00

A friends of mine just received a rejection letter from OSU Grad College. :/ There is no hope for me. He writing sample is amazing. Mine is just a bunch of pathetic little short stories.. Bah. Today is stupid.

No Bar Challenge Day 2 - This post has nothing to do with said Challenge..

2011-02-08T00:58:00.003-06:00

He mentioned being broke today, so I made the mistake of asking if "that girl" had a job. He said she didn't but that come this weekend she was taking the LSAT. He hinted that if she were to fail, he was making her get a job. I didn't say much. What can I say to that? I worked when we were together, but he didn't make as much back then. I really had no argument.

I don't like talking about her, but I brought it up, so I gave him his five minutes. (I say five minutes because that's the most amount of time in a week I can hear about her without breaking down into a slobbering pile of tears and snot.)

About two minutes into said five minutes, he laughs and says, "She asked me if I was moving if she got into law school out of state." I wait. My heart jumped a little. Not because I was afraid he would move with her, but because my heart is a conniving little muscle always thinking about how something horrible for Marcus can turn into something amazing for me...

"So??? You said yes, right?" Of course he didn't fucking say yes. Louisiana is his home.

"BAHAHA FUCKS NO! I told her that, too." He's cracking up as if he's just heard the best joke ever written.

"Oh. That's AWESOME. I hope she gets into TU or..." And this is the point where my big, fat mouth overrides my little, tiny brain. "...or somewhere in MONTANA. Well, not Montana, because you might actually move there, but I hope she does! Then you won't be able to stand not having sex and you'll cheat on her and it will be OVER!" Shit. I said THAT? Yeah. I said that.

He sits there for a second, so I continue. "That was mean, wasn't it? I shouldn't have said that."

"I.." He's chuckling now. "..can't believe you think I am that much of a whore." His feelings. I forgot that he has those. At this point, my idiot mouth is still running. "It's not that. It's just that you love sex just as much as I do and you wouldn't last six months without it. You don't understand. Law school is crazy. Law students can't just pick up and go home when they want. They're lucky if they get home once a year. Long distance relationships are not an OPTION in law school."

WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID IN THE BEGINNING: "Oh, I can't believe you wouldn't move with her. You've been together so long now that NOT moving would surely be a mistake."

Then the subject changes to ME and MY plans after my undergrad...after he mentions that he missed talking to me this week and he left two voicemails to prove it.

*********

I don't know. I'm mainly rambling at this point, but I can't sleep and this conversation is playing it's way out in my head. Any support I ever had for his current relationship went straight out the window the day she called me names over the phone. She's petty and childish. She's divorced at 22. She's everything he said he never wanted. Any mention of my name brings ever curse word she's ever heard to her lips. It causes fights. I can be a good person. I can hear of her, not her name, of course, because he knows better than to mention that, without calling her a string of bitches.

I don't know what I am going to do. I'm tired, but I cannot sleep. My mind is working overtime and every time I close my eyes I think of what happens after undergrad. That's still nearly a year away. Why am I worried now? What will I do if I DON'T get accepted to LSU or anywhere else for that matter?

I need sleep, but it won't come. I'm done complaining for tonight. Hopefully, I'll pass this French test tomorrow...even on 2.5 hours sleep.

2011-02-06T07:48:00.002-06:00

Tonight was pure hell. I didn't get out of the house until damn near eleven. I stopped to get an old friend, not because she offered to buy...which she did...but because I knew she was having a bad day. Well, her offer to buy turned into an $80 tab for me. Then she disappeared...apparently to have sex with ANOTHER friend of mine in the bathroom..I'm leaving the rest of the story alone for now, but tonight was fucking stupid.

30 day no bar challenge starts today. I can drink. I'm not going to say no drinking because that would be stupid. I couldn't do that. So as of today, no bars for 30 days. I can't even GO and not drink. Period end of story no bars. I'll be blogging and tweeting this bullshit. Not that anyone gaf, but I will be. Let the bullshit begin. :/

2011-02-02T03:43:00.003-06:00

I'm here. I'm writing. I read my old blog posts and realize that I am nothing now. The older I get, the shittier my writing gets.

However, today, I am here to complain.

CyClone Yasi is not Hurricane Katrina. I want to punch someone each time I hear the comparison. It's like saying that the BP oil spill was Obama's Katrina. It is fucking stupid. They knew Katrina was coming. They knew there were ways to evacuate the city and help, but they neglected to do so...SO NO..That stupid fucking cyclone is NOT Katrina

Annnnd to drag this out a bit: My sister tried to tell me on Sunday that the people of New Orleans "shoulda left!" She said that "if they would have wanted to leave, they coulda got all their neighbors together and got out..." Are you fucking SERIOUS right now? I think her privileged spoiled bitch attitude is part of the reason we got into it at the close of our mini vacay. I feel bad every time I am shitty to her, but people (and I) need to realize how incredibly spoiled and shitty she is as a person. She's never earned anything on her own. She has not education...No motivation...No skills... How do things just keep falling in her lap? Oh...nvm..Fake boobs, beauty, and a high metabolism will get you everywhere.

2011-01-12T23:04:00.001-06:00

You're not very nice. Thanks for forgetting me...I realized today that it doesn't hurt like it used to...

2010-12-26T04:12:00.001-06:00

I spent two and a half hours crying at a bar alone...tonight...on Christmas day...over my father...My mother text me and asked me to call her...the first thing she said? "I'm sorry. I miss him, too, sometimes..." Yeah...So pot should be legal...that's all she does that renders her judgment so much that she makes me openly sob at a bar...My dad? He killed himself...while he was high on pot...in front of my little brother and I...so lets just legalize that shit because no one ever does anything stupid while high.

I'm not sure why this is now on my blog, but it is... This is why I hate weed. WTFEVER.

2010-12-14T04:00:00.002-06:00

Lately, I've felt like a champ. Inside, I feel like a champ.. Yes, I am stressed about finals and work and money and Marcus. But for once in my life, I feel like the friends I have are friends I would love to keep.

The friends I have now don't judge me. They like who I am when I am sober. They love Drunk Me. It's so incredibly weird to feel like I have FOUND me. But I have. I don't want to change. Everyone knows I don't fake ANYTHING and it feels amazing to be accepted for that.

2010-12-12T20:47:00.002-06:00

You've been on vacation for a week again...I had my fifteen minutes of fame. Not that it was a big deal. I get that once a week these days, vacation or no vacation.

Do you know what I want?

I want you out of my life or in my life. I want you to make up your fucking mind or un-makeup your fucking mind.

I am tired of remembering the discussion of children and a family. These petty games are driving me mad. When I mention another man, you go out of your way to mention her. It makes me want to vomit.

My stomach flips and rises to my throat when friends speak of their persons...Everyone seems to think that the best will prevail. I know this isn't true.

I know what you thought of me. We've had this discussion too many times. I'm beginning to think, not without evidence, that maybe I was TOO perfect for you. Everynight I ensured dinner was on the table or at your job. Every single time I made sure you paid the bills on time since you were so forgetful. Every errand, every time I flat ironed my hair and touched up my makeup. Everytime I struggled to make sure I was beautiful for you. It didn't go unnoticed. You told me the other day that you never saw me with a hair out of place. You never worried about what you would eat that night or how you would get off work to go to the bank. You never worried about a thing when you were with me...

Okay, I lie. You worried about keeping your secrets from me. You did your damndest to make sure I never found out about Amber or the bartender or the waitress...or...

I was too clever for you. "Blind faith," you'd say every time I came to close to unearthing your nasty truths.

I'm not done...I'll never be done. I am pathetic. I am what you have created, a loyal, beaten dog...

3am

2010-10-18T03:29:00.003-05:00

I'm not lonely. I am not sad. I am realizing that those emotions are futile. Whether by the hand of God, fate, or karma, I am fucked...I feel I cannot control my own destiny. If there were a religion that proposed that what happens happens and whatever good you do will make up for that bad, I would be that...Maybe I am ignorant. I don't know. I believe in God. I believe in fate. I believe in karma. I believe in Obama. Nothing matters these days. I feel that no matter what I do, I am destined to be what I am. I feel my choices, however bad or good, will get me to the place I need to be.

But is that the right belief? Is that what my grandparents want for me?

I am tired of being depressed. I am tired of feeling like my decisions don't matter in the long run. I am sick of my job because...Because I feel like I am better than that fucking job. I feel like when I surround myself with fucking ambitionless idiots, I drag myself down. I want to quit. I'd rather be a loser amongst people going somewhere than a winner amongst high school dropouts and teen mothers.

Forgive this rant. It's October. My blog has proven that I have SAD. I blog it out. I've made it this far. I refuse to die now.

2010-10-17T13:50:00.001-05:00

I'm in my dark place. There's nothing that has changed recently causing me to go here, but I'm here regardless.

Part 1

2010-10-16T12:55:00.002-05:00

There are writers. There are bloggers. Annnnd then, there is me. I once considered myself someone that might be able to compete in the world of blogging...That is until I realized that I don't blog so much as keep an electronic diary of my drunken ramblings and distraught musings. There was also a time I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could create the great American novel using my experiences and struggles. Now I know different.

When life was good, I thought it was horrible. All the arguments and the cheating and the confusion made me a better writer. The things that I put on paper during that whole tumultuous affair were better than anything I can create now. Regardless of how I try, I simply can't come up with that kind of dramatic literature.

Which leads me to my next thought, if I cannot come up with even a short story decent enough to post, what makes me think I can compose 25 pages of prose for my writing sample? I can't, but what other option do I have? Law school is too expensive. If I take out thousands of dollars of student loans for law school, there is still no guarantee that I will have a job. With my grades the way they are currently, I'd be lucky to get into University of Phoenix. (hardyharhar, I jest. Surely that pathetic excuse for higher education would take me...) Grad school, though so pretty and promising on paper, seems to be just out of reach. LSU's MFA program requires an undergrad GPA of 3.2...Sound simple, right? Not so much. Due to all the F's and D's from my first two semesters of college, I have to make a 4.0 each semester to even attain that GPA. I think that asking me to work 43-50 hours a week and maintain an A in each class is simply unreasonable. I am trying. I really am, but it seems so futile.

2010-10-12T22:24:00.000-05:00

I'm not even sure why I give a damn anymore.

2010-10-12T21:05:00.003-05:00

If there is one thing I am sick and fucking tired of, it's feeling like a fucking outsider. In school, I'm older than everyone except the creepy Grad students. At work, I am older than everyone and pretty much the only one without kids. To top that off, I am their superior. The other managers don't like me so much because I am outspoken and...well, I am not sure, but they don't. My "friends" love me drunk, which is cool, I am not bothered by that. There are at least a few of them that I could call if I needed something. We won't even mention the other aspects of my life...

Anyways. It gets fucking old. It really does. I don't know what else to say. If I am good enough to listen to YOUR bullshit when you're drunk, I should be good enough to talk to when I am sober. But go ahead, mock me, hate me, make fun of me. I'll just bitch about it on my blog and not speak to you further.

*you is a generic term here...sorry.

2010-10-10T00:56:00.002-05:00

As I walked through my living room, as I seldom do these days, I noticed a picture on my shelf. It's a snapshot of a thinner me. Also in the picture is a gentleman in a crisp Cingular logo button down. We're both smiling...Not that fake smile that is usually captured with a digital flash, but a genuine, "I'm glad to be here" toothy grin. Odd halos of smoke, frozen forever in time, stand above our heads. His hand is perched on a carafe of golden beer. The glaring neon of a Budweiser sign casts a tinge of blood red across the table.

Cingular has been defunct for nearly four years now (It lost it's own name in the merger of 2005.) And I don't remember his name, (Probably due to the obvious involvement of alcohol...)but I wonder, where is he today?

2010-09-29T03:09:00.002-05:00

Well...Fuck you.

If I am so fucking perfect, why aren't we together? If I am so fucking amazing, why am I the miserable one? Why am I muse lacking? Why

Nothing I say makes a difference.

You say that there was a point that you realized how fucked up you were...and you decided that you didn't want to bring me down with you....

Did you think that maybe you fucked me up from the first hello? The second year was overkill...The fourth? Well, I'd been in the grave a long, long time by that point.

I love you more than I love myself and I know that every part of that statement is wrong.

My mother spent 8 to 10 (I'm not really sure exactly) years with my father. He died. Regardless of the correct place for blame, he's gone. He's been gone for over 15 years now...She never got better. Every decent man...Every evil bad man...Every in between man...They were just tools to help her rid her mind of him.

I know how she feels, but I don't have that luxury. My mind won't let me fall in lust with another.

You tell me that I can not only find someone as good as you, but I can find better...If I just let myself...You say I only see everyone else's green grass...I only see the other, better side....

You fail to realize, you are the green grass...You are the other side.

I don't want to drink my pain away, but do you have a better solution?

You're my first, my last, my everything. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to be the lady with six cats and four degrees that never got what she wanted in life.

I want you to grow up. I want you to realize that you have someone right here...Someone willing to give you her everything. Someone who has already given you her best, yet still strives to be better. I want to be that for you.

Sometimes, I think about my death. I think about what would happen if the worst happened...You know what I worry about? Who will call you. Who will tell you that the woman you love, yet fail to be there for, has passed? Who will let you know how much you meant to me in the event that you didn't already know?

I don't want to die like this, but if you don't/won't change...

2010-08-23T04:11:00.002-05:00

I'm KIND of okay with being a semi-celebrity in Tulsa. By semi, I mean that all the DJays and all the artists...and all the party people know me. I am okay with that.

HOWEVER, fuck this place. I am tired of being here. Everyday I get hammered at a shitty bar is another intellectual year lost. No kidding. Everyday that I drink or do blow or WHATEVER, I feel more retarded than I did the day before. Plus, no one knows how I live. I have no REAL friends that live here.

Yes, I am being obnoxious and just talking on my blog AGAIN. I know everyone subscribed gets irritated with this, but since all my friends that I talk to daily are A.) MARCUS or B.) MARRIED with CHILDREN aka JAMIE...then I am kind of fucked as far as outlets go, aren't I?

Anyways. I don't really care what people in Tulsa think of me. I know who I am. I know what I do. Lately, that has been work, but previously, it was drinking.

I did get to hang out with my "bro" tonight. I actually do enjoy his company. It's like hanging out with my biological brother...Okay...Exactly like hanging out with Bio Bro. There's not much of a difference.

I had a blast. Spent too much money as usual.

I WANT OUT.
I hate it here. HATE HATE HATE.
I love my family, but here? NO. Save me.

I'll probably reopen this post shortly.

2010-08-20T01:16:00.003-05:00

Yuck, yuck, yuck. Yellow Tail is NOT a decent cheap wine...By any means.

I am not blogging tonight...Just like I never use this as an actual blog. I just pretend it's mydiary.com from 1995 and roll with it.

She's bothering me. She's not talking to me because I told her to fuck off, but she's still bothering me.

I want Marcus back as badly as she does, but I am not delusional. I've figured him out.

Ugh. Cheap riesling, expensive headache. bye

2010-08-15T03:18:00.002-05:00

He's engaged to Laura. He's cheating on Laura with Ambre. I wish this whole building would collapse and kill Marcellus and I.

I may ACCIDENTALLY drive my car off a bridge on the way to work.

Should my car lose it's brakes, thanks to all of you that have put up with me since '07.

2010-08-10T04:32:00.002-05:00

It's pathetic really. I know why I am in this mood, but I can't get out of it for at least three days. Meh. Who gives a fuck?

I've got $10 to my name. Even when I get paid in five days, I'll still have nothing to my name. I owe Clay, Grandpa, Jess, Paula, Mandy, Freddie Mac, Sallie Mae, PSO, Peter, and Paul every dime that I'll earn for the next 60 years.

The only things I own mean nothing to anyone else. No one wants a tailless dog and a shoebox apartment in the hood...Hell, even the apartment doesn't technically belong to me. That's, of course, in his name...

Basically, all I've got is roaches. I don't want those either, but I've got them.

It's pathetic. Even the roaches are less lonely than myself. At least they have friends...Fucking millions of friends.

Blame isn't something I can place on another. The whole ordeal is my fault. My depression deepens with each hour. There was a time I could drown it, but the monster can swim now. I've learned nothing and I've only succeeded in being exactly where I was pre-him.

Blame is all mine...Yet, I blame him. I blame my sister. I blame everyone else, but myself even though it is apparent that doing so is illogical.

I'm not fooling anyone. I can't write worth a fuck. I want to be Chris Rose or Anthony Bourdain. As much as I loathe Stephenie Meyer*, at lease that bitch has duped millions of Americans into buying her shitty novels.

I can't think anymore. I am so embarrassed about where I am working that I won't even tell anyone. I am in such a hole. I doubt every step I take. I worry about what HE would think if he could see the apartment...if he could see the weight I've gained....If he could see that the Christina he once loved died when he left.

It won't ever be over. Cutting it off would be like New Orleans without Second Line, Mardi Gras, and Gumbo...I would surely die.

It doesn't matter. I pick up the keyboard in hopes of creating some grand masterpiece, but only this comes out.

I can't sleep. I need a drink, but I am not doing that right now. Self-control is something I am going to learn the hard way.

Blahs. Fuck this. I am going to lie (lay? See? I suck.) back down and hope that I don't cry....Hope that, for once, I can sleep without him and without alcohol.
*Who fucking spells their name like that anyways? The bitch can't even spell her name and she's better off than I.

2010-07-25T14:19:00.002-05:00

I want to write.
Just like the majority of my internet and real life friends, I want to write.
I want to be published.

I want more out of my life than cheap alcohol and smoky Oklahoma hip hop clubs.
While the liquor is one thing that keeps me somewhat balanced in this mediocre state, it is also what holds me back. Liquor and fear are the two things stopping me from packing the dog and moving far away.

Oklahoma isn't a place where people are happy. Sure, you'll find those that claim they love it here. They say they love the slower pace and the down home charm. They may even go as far as saying that the MidWest is the new coast.

They're only fooling themselves.

How can one be happy in a place like this? Doesn't anyone in this desolate, culture-less farmland have ambition? Isn't there something inside of them from the problems everyone has, I have no problems. When I leave this place, I won't be running away from anything. Instead, I'll be running to something.

Brooke left two weeks ago in search of golden happiness and cerulean seas. She's found them in California. She'll never be back and I don't blame her.

Other friends of mine have city and country hopped their ways right back to their respective hometowns...Right back to the mundane existence that they call a life. They're not happy...

Saying that moving is going to bring instant happiness would be stupid. I know that it will be a struggle. I'll miss my family. I'll miss some of the my friends here...Others I will just be glad to get away from.

I'm done for now.

2010-06-06T04:07:00.001-05:00

WHAT IN THE SAM HELL AM I GOING TO DO WITHOUT FACEBOOK?

2010-05-31T05:45:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I was raped. Do I want to talk about it? No, but maybe at this point, it's time.

I've been raped before. Several times. It isn't that. The others didn't affect me the way this has.

I trusted him. I called him "brother." His mother treats me like her own child. I'm invited to family dinners and holidays. This hurts.

The reason I stopped sleeping with/dating white men is because of the first rape. I couldn't stand to see another man that looked like him on top of me. I couldn't bear to see the matching flesh because my mind automatically went back to THAT. The pressure, the fight to push, the fight to save myself from THAT. He took my innocence. He took everything that made me a woman in under two minutes. I bled...My God...I bled. It hurt and I cried.

My mom asked. The woman that gave me birth asked why my brand new jeans, my school clothes, were ruined. She wanted to know where all the blood came from. I cried and poured my heart out to this person...this person that was supposed to protect me from evil...And she ignored me. She thought I was lying.

So I stopped. I kept myself away from men that looked like him. I didn't tell anyone else and I thought I had saved myself from harm. I thought that by avoiding THEM, I was in the clear....

I wasn't. It happened again. My fault, surely. It had to be my fault. I wasn't careful enough. I didn't state my boundaries clearly enough. I didn't tell him I wasn't interested. I lead him on...Surely, it was my fault.

I can't justify Chris. I cannot. justify. this. I trusted him. I didn't lead him on. I didn't try to hit on him. He hit on me and I told him I wasn't interested.

I don't know what to do. I told Clay. I told Jamie. I told MARCUS, for fuckssake. I don't feel better. I don't feel better at all.

But tonight, when I told Jason why I wasn't comfortable sleeping with him. When I explained to him why I wasn't turned on, he blamed me. He said it was a cop out.

FUCK. I know some people may still read this, but how else am I to get this out of my head? How else do I work out all of these fucked up things? Marcus is not my therapist and if tonight proves anything, it proves that I need to seek actual help. I can only see so much. I can only handle so much. I think I have reached my breaking point.

Herzog's Post-Katrina New Orleans

2010-05-25T00:54:00.000-05:00

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is raw and it's uncomfortable. It's post-Katrina New Orleans as much as the refrigerators and and gutted homes. The camera follows Lieutenant Terrence McDonagh's struggle to fight the corruption of K-Ville and the personal hell that haunts his every move. Dealing with his addiction to pain killers, we watch as McDonagh's life spirals out of control. Hallucinations and gritty, almost terrifying, soundtrack aid to show the desperation of a man losing it all. Eva Mendes' portrayal of an unapologetic call girl is beautiful. Even rapper Xibit shines as Big Fate, a betrayed NOLA drug lord. Herzog is brilliant. This gem is not for the faint of heart.

I've never written a movie review! :) I was pretty excited to try my hand at it. Comments and criticisms welcome.

2010-05-16T18:33:00.003-05:00

Yay! I am 27. All in all, today has been rather awesome. I haven't done anything, but it's still great! :)
I'm off to drink free beer!

It's not you, it's me.

2010-05-15T11:48:00.002-05:00

I'm tired of working menial jobs. I'm tired of settling for positions for which I am not suited.
More than that, I am tired of being fired from these positions after I've molded myself to fit what I thought the employer wanted.

"You're not lead material. You're management style is better suited for a better job." It's not them. It's me.

Yeah, Marcus says it best when he says, "Sometimes you have to eat shit." Crude way of putting it, but I get what he is saying. I haven't "paid my dues."

So I settle. I'm 26 (erm...27 tomorrow) years old and I settle in so many aspects of my life. I go to OSU when I really wanted LSU or UT or Tulane. I take Marcus how he is now because I can't have him how I want him. I accept jobs I hate because I'm trying to be realistic. In all actuality, settling is all I do right.

2010-04-01T02:46:00.003-05:00

I am trying my hand at food blogging...Or whatever they call it these days...

Tonight my friends (and some D-Bags they know) dined at Tokyo Garden.

I was a little intimidated by the four page menu. The size didn't bother me, the terms did. Scallops, shrimp, HAIBACHI!!! What is THAT!? Ha! I'd never been to anywhere similar, so I was searching for the drink menu!

I ordered the

I totally give up on this! Is that sad? 'mouse? I expect you to put me in my place here. Maybe.

Anyways
I have a person. He's not a boyfriend. He's not a friend. He is who he is.

I can't sleep many nights... He sings me to sleep. He reads me to sleep.

I don't ask him for much. Sex here. Sometimes a beer. Occasionally money.

He provides me with more than I could ever request.

My feelings (AKA Emotions to people with more than one of these wretched things)..

I am tired of trying to wax philosophically. I don't know how I feel anymore.

I know that Marcus' indifference bothers me. I know that this man's kindness throws me for a loop...I know that...I know I will shut up now. Three days. I have wanted to talk about this for three days and now I can't. Pitiful, pathetic, sad.

So it comes down to this.

2010-02-10T21:17:00.003-06:00

So I've had THE discussion with two of my dearest friends. Apparently, my drinking has reached an unmanageable level. I'm not sure why I am just now realizing this. I mean, I've blown through two $1,500 student loan checks and about 5 paychecks.

It shouldn't be this fucking hard. I shouldn't be that person. I shouldn't need help to stop drinking. I should just be able to put the bottle down and walk away from it. I'm going to try it because frankly, I've not just tried that approach. It's going to suck. I am going to be bored.

2010-01-06T21:21:00.001-06:00

Yeah, I fucked up and called him in the wee hours of the morning.

I need to leave it alone. I will never again be right with him and he will never again be the man with whom I fell in love. It's futile and ignorant.

Three AM and feelin' good.

2010-01-06T02:52:00.003-06:00

I am drunk and I am blogging. Get over it!

1. I have decided that pants are an unnecessary burden. Therefore, I will not be wearing them in situations that will not get me arrested.

2. I was happier when I was miserable. So SUE ME. I don't give a shit. You'll end up with a broken dog and an autographed copy of "The Outsiders." Whatever.

3. I just really felt like writing tonight. Facebook is getting on my damned nerves. With a blog, you're pretty much forced to read it. You can't just run through and say, "OH! I liked the first part of that. Let me push the convenient LIKE button." It doesn't work like that. At all.

Bah enough numbering.

I had a date this evening. I would love to do a restaurant review, but IDK how the fuck to do that so I will just sum it up.

Our waiter was a douchebag. He showed up twice and was only attentive once the bill came. Too bad for him because my date is an excellent tipper. The food was excellent with the exception of the bread. I could have cracked someone's dome with it. The house dressing was phenomenal. It was an Italian vinaigrette, but it was in no way typical. It was a balance of kalamata olives and fresh garlic that for damn sure didn't come from a bottle. My Chicken Amafali was perfectly cooked and I tasted only the slightest hint of lemons and capers (Hence the description "LIGHT LEMON CREAM SAUCE.") The red peppers were blackened on one side which made them chewy and great. I guess his was good. The presentation on it was horrible, but what else could I expect for Shrimp Alfredo. The Tuscan Margarita was a little strong and a touch too sweet, but I am not at all complaining. It was my fault for ordering a traditionally Mexican drink at an Italian joint. My date had beer. You really can't eff up a Budweiser so whatever on that.

He's a nice guy. This wasn't a brand new thing. I've pretty much blown him off more times than I should have. I get scared...Scratch that: Terrified when anyone that isn't Marcus comes around. Which leads me to point #2 above.

I am not content. The date was wonderful, but I can't help but think that I would rather be miserable with Marcus than happy with anyone else. It's pitiful, pathetic, stupid, etc... But I cannot change the way I feel. I am still not going to speak to him. I can't. That would ruin every damn thing I have done so far. Plus, I am waiting on HIM to figure out that he fucked up. NOT ME. I didn't fuck up.
Fuck him.

So I say.

I'm an idiot for thinking that I will ever be that happy again and I know it.

I am fine. I know I am fine. I am perfectly okay alone and doing whatever the fuck I want. I do not need Marcus to define me. Grrr...Now if only I can convince myself.

2010-01-03T05:04:00.002-06:00

Goodbye, Frienemy.

If I wanted to bicker and argue everyday about stupid shit, I would still talk to Marcus.

If I wanted someone to judge me based on my appearance, I would listen to my family.

If I wanted to compete for every man I come across, I'd be friends with you.

I am done with this mess. I am 26. You're 23. I am short. You are tall. I am pretty. You're...well, I don't know what you are, but I know I look better. ha

I'm tired of this shit. You know? You're immature, you're selfish, you're spoiled.

Get a real job. Find yourself. Leave me alone.

I was out of line tonight and I know that. I shouldn't have swung, but I did. Too late now and I don't regret it. You deserve everything you get.

2009-12-23T03:18:00.002-06:00

Virtual death? I am okay with my virtual life. I just want everyone in real life to think I've died.

It is all bullshit. Marcus is a liar. Elizabeth is a flake. Anthony, MY GOD, he's a lying flake.

But maybe Elizabeth is right. Maybe after busting my ass to bring my GPA from a 1.4 to a CUMULATIVE 3.08, I still won't be shit. Maybe I will always be defined by my past mistakes. Maybe it IS me that fucked up with Marcus.

I am just lost. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be friendless, but with friends like this...

I HAVE real friends. It is not that. It is the fact that their all married and in relationships with children...I am bitching, yes, but fucking shit fuck damn bob saget, this is not cool... I feel like I am not getting through to anyone. My grandmother is generally the only person that gets me, but she's worried about me getting robbed and beat up. Wow. Am I really that confusing?

2009-12-19T14:52:00.001-06:00

"Sometimes it feels that the heart is no place to be singing from at all."

2009-12-17T00:56:00.002-06:00

I'm writing today for no other reason than I have been thinking about it all day. I don't have a lot to say, but felt compelled to write nonetheless.

I picked up a book today not related to classes. It feels weird. It feels as if I am slacking and not doing something. I love Walter Mosley. The Long Fall is his first Leonid McGill mystery. It is good, but I am rarely let down by Walter Mosley (except of course Killing Johnny Fry. That was terrible.)

I finally bought an LSAT book and a GRE Literature book. I just can't seem to make myself use them. I know that I'll be taking both tests sometime next year, but SHIT. School is wearing me the hell out. I also know that volunteer work needs to be done before I even think about applying to either school. My CUMULATIVE GPA is a 3.08. That pisses me off because my retention GPA is a 3.6. That 3.08 looks terrible when applying to other schools.

Finally talked to Evil Bastard. I didn't want to talk to him, but my better judgment went out the door when my car overheated. He's not discussing the lease with me. He's not discussing anything but car issues at this point. I'm not sure why he feels that avoidance is the answer. Five years of avoiding the issues and it has gotten us nowhere.

This is so different for me. I would love to say that I don't love him, but I still do. I just feel different. I know that no matter what has ever happened between us, I'm still in the same sinking ship. I don't want to live my life like that.

I've just been depressed this week. I know I promised a sunnier, more optimistic blog, but fuckall, I just don't have it in me currently.

2009-12-06T04:12:00.001-06:00

It is now apparent that I am incapable of having a normal relationship with anyone that I know. I mean, friendships, romantic relationships, work relationships. I am obvious socially inept. I think that the only friendships I can maintain are those where I only speak to the person once every few months.

I KNOW drinking doesn't help shit, but GD. I don't know how being drunk leads to this.

If my head and my heart would just agree...

2009-11-27T12:55:00.001-06:00

I am okay. I still feel a little bowled over by the whole thing, but he's made his choice, now I must deal with it. It has only been a week.

2009-11-18T22:42:00.003-06:00

I seem to be back to having no readers. I'm chalking it up to the busy year end bustle.

I am okay. It happened again, but I didn't freak out. Two shots, two vodka martinis, one beer. I was good. No binge drinking. I found comfort in the posh confines of a good friend's home.

Of course, he called. At 4:52am, he called from a private number. As if I were one of his other girls that doesn't know how things work. He called again, because for once, the ball was in my glove. It was my turn to make him sweat it out for a few. When I finally answered, he understood. I told him this was the last time I was going to tolerate this mistreatment. I told him to shut up because it was my turn to speak my peace.

And I spoke. But now, I'm wondering why I didn't keep my mouth shut. We're back to not speaking, better than that, we're back to Marcus not speaking to me.

It's like he doesn't care what I have to say. It's like I could hand him the moon with the stars on the side and he'd still not appreciate anything I do.

It's the same emo-bullshit over and over. Year in year out. I've never felt like this about anyone. Frankly, I don't want to feel like this about anyone again, ever.

It's not like this is something new. Marcus makes his own decisions regarding my life.

Let me add something exceptionally fucked up: A "friend" of mine has decided that in regards to Marcus, I have Stockholm Syndrome. That really cracks me up.

AND OFF the emo-bullshit.

I've got to start blogging more. I've got to start writing more. Right now, as it stands, I've got a 3.01 OR a 3.75 depending on how you look at it. If I simply complete the test for Juvenile Delinquency, I'll get a B in that class. Looks like, according to the papers I've been handed back, I've got an A in OA and a high B or low A in African American History....I can make heads nor tales of what I've got in Philosophy, but I am THINKING it's got to be a high B, possibly a low A. So I've got to start studying for the LSAT. That's a weird thing to me. When I was a just a little ankle-biter (I really did bite people, that's not just a figure of speech...), I've wanted to be a lawyer. Then all the felonies came and I gave up. I assumed that my record would bar me from taking the BAR. Apparently, that's not the case.

Grad school is still something I would LOVE to do. I wouldn't make as much money in the long run, but I'd be much happier. However, it seems that my writing is terrible.

I'm done for now. I'm in pain, I am going to lie down.

and the shit hits the fan...

2009-11-16T20:04:00.002-06:00

It has happened again. I've busted Marcus in yet another lie. I'm not shocked. I'm not depressed (yet.) I'm just basically numb. I don't really feel anything at all.

I just want to get in my car and drive somewhere. I'm not sure where I am going. I've already got the work thing covered. So I am packing up my books and my bag and I am hitting the road.

November, November, November

2009-11-16T07:28:00.002-06:00

It is cold. It is raining. I just had a normal conversation with the Evil one. I'm still just blank.
I have a test at 4:30. I'm guessing that I know what I am doing...But do I ever really know what I am doing?

The semester is coming to an end. I've got 3 weeks to write a 12 page, two 3 pages, a 9 page, and whatever the hell it is Teresa wants for her class. It seems all I do is sleep anymore. I sleep at work. I sleep at home. Sometimes I sleep in class.

A friend asked me to dinner for Saturday...Not just any dinner. A nice dinner. I have a feeling he's interested in more than dinner and more than sex. He's a decent guy, but that's just not what I want from him.

The professor asked if I was single. When I said, yes, he let me know that he was, too. There was no follow up on that. I mentioned this to Marcus, partially because I don't understand men and partially because I wanted to let him know...Out of guilt or spite or...something. I wanted a reaction. I'm still smirking because while it wasn't monumental, I did get what I wanted.

My love life is shot all to hell and there's no one to blame. I didn't ask the Evil one to cheat on me. I didn't plan on anything that has happened with him in the last year. I'm dark and twisty now, like the gnarled trunk of a bonsai. I'm hesitant to express admiration for fear of rejection. I hesitant not to express admiration for fear of regret. I don't trust anything that people say.

bed now.

Everyone is lonely; No one wants to admit it.

2009-11-03T07:37:00.003-06:00

I fucked up. One week of sobriety and I threw it all washed it all down the drain with some Red Bull.

I'm okay with this. I know my sobriety is not permanent. I am following the sober life long enough to make it through Grad school (or law school). Then I can enjoy my life like people without addictions. I know that any trip out of this God forsaken state will warrant some cocktails at the first jazz club I can find. I'm not disappointed that I failed.

I sat there, midday, drinking my double vodka, thinking.

And the more I thought about it, the more it nagged me. Something that I couldn't pinpoint picked at my brain. I tried to drown the nagging with more vodka. Isn't that what drinking is for? To silence the thoughts that we don't want to hear?

Six double vodka red bulls and $50 later, it worked. It worked because it always works momentarily.

As I sat in class and the alcohol left my body, it clicked: I had let him down. The one that believes in me. The guy that thinks that I can own the world. He's let me down more than I can count, but it still hurt. I didn't tell on myself. I sent a cryptic text, but I didn't outright say, "Hey, I'm fucking up as we speak."

No, I'm not disappointed in my failure, I am disappointed in my betrayal. I didn't let myself down because I have realistic expectations regarding attainable goals.

No sleep 'til Brooklyn...

2009-11-01T12:14:00.002-06:00

Okay, maybe not Brooklyn, but at least until graduation.

I just watched Bunni's vlog and apparently stressing so much you can't sleep isn't just something I do...At least she had vodka and chicken feet.

I sat at home last night. Fell asleep in the middle of the OSU game. Not that it matters, everyone pretty much knew how that would end. I wasn't too worried about LSU. Tulane never wins that battle. I woke up at what I THOUGHT was 4:45am. Stupid daylight savings. What's it good for anyways?

I've tried four times to go back to sleep and it's just not happening. I've been looking at apartments online. The decent ones that I have found are not listed on apartmentfinder.com...Go figure. I talked to Marcus about the lease and got a new speech. He feels that I should find somewhere to move into that I can sign my own lease so that I can build my credit.

It's not that I haven't thought about this. It's that I don't feel I can get an apartment with no rental history since 2001, no credit to speak of, and the stupid other things. I'm sure with ONE issue, I could pull it off. But three? Doubtful.

Ahhhh...yes. Sleeping pill finally kicked in. Peace out.

2009-10-28T06:00:00.001-05:00

I've slept a total of four hours and 45 minutes since Monday at 7am.
Withdrawls are a bitch. This better be worth it.

"The Blackbirds are rough today."

2009-10-26T06:42:00.004-05:00

It's 6:44am. Just as it is always 6:44am. Monday comes with 5 o'clock.

I've got much to say, but the words have left with the rain.

I'm hopeful, while he calls me a liar and he is right. He scolds me for not being stronger before, for failing to keep my promises to myself. I hang up the phone with the three words I long to say the most sitting heavily on my chest. I'm not playing this game. I'm not playing this fucking game today.

What happened to exams based on fact? I don't want to share my sacred place. It is my sacred place, not their sacred place. If she asks us to read these in class, I will politely decline. This isn't creative writing or genre or short story. I prefer to save my raw emotion for those classes. Not this one.....

I hate emotionally draining days that start so early.

2009-10-25T19:47:00.005-05:00

Okay! I'm here. I've not disappeared. I must say that I am glad someone noticed I was gone.

So I was sitting in the commons before class on Thursday and I could feel someone staring at me. As I look up, there's Professor Hotness. He smiles and waves at me. I had tried to catch him during office hours, but as I have explained, that's generally impossible. I moved to sit on the couch beside him and let him know how confused I was regarding this paper. His new ideas for my paper helped quite a bit. (Thanks for the advice, Bunni!)

Now the sidebar: I like to consider myself attractive usually. I've got self-esteem issues, but in a normal setting (AKA Sobriety,) I can see that I am running a close race with the conventionally pretty. At the same time, I don't think I am God's gift to men. I'm grounded enough to know when I don't have a shot in hell and when if I do shoot, I may hit something... I don't quite understand my attraction to this man. He's so incredibly sexy to me. I'm not sure if it is the dapper hats, the Boston accent, or those great glasses, but for some reason, I am drawn to him. I'm two semesters in to some sort of high school crush that I can't explain. I've not had a crush on anyone since FauxBama and before that, Marcus...

I can't help thinking that his suggestion that I discuss sexuality was completely coincidental. I really think this man is attracted to me for more reasons than this. He could just be a nice guy, but that doesn't seem likely. I told the entire story to the Evil One and he seemed to agree that the guy definitely has a thing for me. That's coming from the man that I love. (I shouldn't have told him. I was drunk and it really made sense at the time. However, I could tell it made him a little jealous, but that's another story, for another day.)

It's odd that I feel he's so unattainable. I guess it is because he's my superior as far as my education is concerned. So what do I do? I'm not the smoothest person I know, so I am pretty sure that it is obvious that I want him. Are there rules in college against dating students? How does one even approach something like that?

I haven't met someone outside of a bar since 2005. I really am not sure how this works anymore. Bar's are easy. You're drunk, they're drunk, give them your number, and decide the next day if you want to waste your time. Honestly, I've not dated anyone seriously since FauxBama and before that, Marcus. I don't know HOW to date someone I like. Anthony doesn't count. He's not my type: Too clingy, too wrapped up in the seedy side of life, no ambitions, and no balls. Gary doesn't count. He looks like a prince, beautiful dreads, gorgeous skin, great bone structure, but he knows that he's hot. That makes him unattractive. They were fun at times, but both want something from me I am not willing or able to give.

We'll see how this plays out. I'm sure this isn't my only post tonight. It's been a long weekend and I have plenty to say.

2009-10-22T02:55:00.001-05:00

About three hours until this paper MUST be finished. My head is swimming. My entire body hurts. I can barely see the screen and the tiny type in these antiquated books seems to be moving. Please, remind me why I even care anymore.

5am: Reckoning Time

2009-10-21T04:56:00.002-05:00

I took Bad Bunni's advice and shot Professor Hotness an email. (I would've gone in during office hours for some face to face interaction. However, in my two semesters dealing with the man, I've discovered trying to catch him is like trying to make the sun come out at midnight.) He got back to me in record time. Unfortunately, Professor Hotness is unbelievably intelligent. He does his best. He knows that none of his students are on his level. This is reflected in his grading. (Actually, maybe it's the TA's grading. Whatev.) He gave me kudos, but suggested I narrow down my topic. Last semester's research paper was easy: Nina Simone, music, reflection of the Civil Rights Movement. This semester? He wants me to elaborate on the reasons that life was different for freedmen in New Orleans than in other sections of the antebellum South. This sounds easy, but dealing with limited resources, I was having trouble finding sources for the broad topic.

On to class two: Asian Philosphy is freaking nuts. I understand a little better than other classmates. I've got a test in that tomorrow since I decided that school was unimportant last week.

Oklahoma Authors is tolerable. I would've picked different authors to study, but I am not teaching the class. TM hooked us up on a meet and greet with S.E. Hinton. That was sweet. I don't think that The Outsiders is really literary genius, but she was great. The super cool thing was that Mrs. Hinton doesn't typically do public appearances. I'm not sure why because she was charming and witty. It was honestly a pleasure to meet her. I'm going to watch Rumblefish and see how I feel about that one. I am just a little sad that I never had a chance to meet late Oklahoma authors such as John Hope Franklin and Ralph Ellison.

Juvenile Delinquency makes me want to hit someone...HARD. I've got plenty of pent-up aggression to write about. You would think that an internet class would save you the trouble of dealing with complete idiots. Not so much. I hate posting discussions. It just shows how horribly Oklahoma high schools have failed. Hell, I have no idea how I've made as far as I have. I can barely write a proper sentence.

I've decided that win or lose, I've got to start trying harder. I can't continue skating by with low As and high Bs in every class. This shit is getting hectic. If I plan on being a professional anything, I need to start writing like one.

I'm getting old. I have grown tired of taking classes with 18 and 19 year olds. I have considered not taking classes this summer. Unfortunately, that will push me back to a 2011 graduation date. I don't know that I can handle Oklahoma for two more years. This place is driving me completely insane.

All GRE and LSAT studies are going to have to wait until Winter break. On top of that, I've got to start working on my prose (or whatever they're calling it) to submit to these schools. Two 15 page short pieces for University of Texas, multiple short pieces for Louisiana State, and who knows what NYU wants?! I can never get a hold of them to find out. I figure that out of three schools, someone will think I am brilliant. Judging by the quality of work submitted by others in Genre, it really can't be that hard.

Clay has made me a character in his book. It is too bad that he didn't take some creative license with my character. I'll forever be trapped on paper in this shitty job. I hoped that after spending as much time with him as I have recently, he could come up with something better than that. Meh, I guess I should be thankful I'm in the book at all. I think he's submitting it for publishing sometime mid-2010. I wish him luck. Surely there are others out there that will appreciate his dry humor as I do.

This is all over the place because that's how I've felt the past two weeks. I'm here, I'm there. I can't find myself in anything at the moment. That's not a bad thing, just makes it hard to finish anything. Alright, I'm out. Too tired to write anything else this morning.

2009-10-17T09:34:00.002-05:00

My research proposal should read like this:

My paper will attempt to illustrate my ability to bullshit through a 15-17 page research paper. I will utilize the thesaurus to the best of my ability. The majority of my information will come from Wikipedia, but I will cite other, more reliable sources. Ultimately, the purpose of the paper will be to obtain an A- or at least a B.

2009-10-14T23:43:00.003-05:00

The world is getting married and you know what I say to that? Fuck you, world, fuck you.

As everyone else is getting married, engaged, or knocked up, I'm here...Arguing with a man that can't tell me why he doesn't want me. He can tell me that I am perfect...that I am a great cook, I am intelligent, I am beautiful, that I've never done anything wrong, but he cannot tell me why it is impossible for him to be faithful to me.

I don't need a shrink. I don't need pills or booze or another man. I need amnesia. I need to be able to forget that the man who means everything to me exists.

I'm tired. Unfortunately, not tired to the point that I am going to stop being his friend. He says he needs a friend. He claims that he has no other friends. And of course, I am going to be a sorry sad sack and be the person he needs me to be.

And you know what? I just don't have it in me to give a fuck anymore.

4 years. 4 long, miserable, wasted years of my life that I have given to this man and here I stand. Better than I was before, but still less than I should be.

I can think of no better comparison than this:

I'm Robert Johnson. He's the devil. I've sold this man my soul to be able to play great music. Now, I can play like a motherfucker. There is no one in this world that can play better than I. But he's taken my soul. You can't get your soul back and playing great music doesn't make up for a lost soul.

He sat there and told me that I will never be happy because no one will compare to him in my mind. He wasn't being conceited. He wasn't trying to control me. He was just speaking from what he sees. The sad part, he's right. No matter how many men I date, no matter how many times I meet someone, they'll never be half the person that he is in my eyes.

It's fucking sad.

I listened to Bunni's vlog earlier and she was talking about how dating in your thirties is different than dating in your twenties. Dating in your twenties is an adventure. It is fun. It's about meeting people and going out for drinks and dinner. To me, it's not like that anymore. At 26, I would love to meet someone that I would see more than once. I would like to meet someone that meant more to me than a nice dinner and tolerable conversation.

At the same time, I'm a liar.

I don't care about being single. It is not being single that bothers me. I'm okay with sitting around waiting on something that may never be.

Enough of my bitching.

The end of it all...

2009-10-13T03:28:00.002-05:00

I finally did what I needed to do. It took every bit of courage in my body to tell him how I felt.

"I love you more than anything, but I cannot do this anymore."

I expected a conversation. I still expect a conversation. It wasn't a cut and dried statement. I explained it in depth. I told him that I couldn't be just friends after spending a substantial part of my life with him. I explained that this back and forth was tearing me apart. There is only so much I can take. It made sense yesterday morning. If he didn't love me, why would he do so much for me?

"So you want all or nothing, right? Is that what you're saying?"

Yes...Erm...No. FUCK I don't know anymore. He was supposed to call me back, but 16 hours later, I've heard nothing from the man.

I know that this is the way things NEED to happen. I know that this has been a long time coming. Does that make it any easier on my poor, poor heart? Nope.

What the hell do I do? I am the Queen of Self-Sabotage, but this was a freaking feat for even me.

2009-10-11T20:06:00.001-05:00

I don't want to be this upset over someone that is only there when he want to be. I really don't. I don't understand why I still love you this much after you've broken my heart so many times. I've tried to not love you. I've tried to not call you. I've tried so many things, but there's always this big empty space in my heart. It's there all the time...And it doesn't feel great at all.That's why I've been crying all day. I don't know what to do. I was upset because I love you so much that it consumes me. Yes, I am going to school for myself, but at the same time, I am going to prove myself to you. I don't know that you could ever understand what it means to feel this way about another person. Frankly, I don't know that I could wish that hurt upon another human being.Yeah, I got upset because of what she said, but we all know you're not capable of telling me the truth. So who else am I supposed to believe? I yelled at you and I shouldn't have. I know this. I knew this as the words were coming out of my mouth.Honestly, what have I ever done to deserve to be treated like this? You yell at me. You hang up on me. You ignore me whenever some other person comes into your life. You're right: It is not my business who you "see," but I feel that I deserve to know. You only act so unkind when there is someone else.You mean so much to me, but at the same time, I don't think that it is right for it to be so.I'm irrational at times. I can't lie to you or anyone else. I'm irrational because love is irrational. I act this way because I don't know how else I am expected to act. Being nice doesn't help my situation, being mean and nasty SURE doesn't help my situation. I'm not stupid. It's not like I am pretending that you didn't cheat and lie and leave me alone. I know that no matter what I do I will never be good enough for you. What I don't know is why? Why is it that no matter how I act, no matter what I do, I am not good enough for you? Why is it that you still talk to me? And help me out when I need it? What is the point in doing things that make me love you even more than I already did? I'm not pulling a "poor me," but you know better than anyone that you're the only person I have. Before I met you, I was on the downward path to self-destruction. Now that I don't have you, it seems I'm headed back down that path.I don't ask for a lot...At least I don't feel that I do. I just want an explanation. I just need to know why, after everything you've put me through, I am not good enough. You told me months ago that it seemed I was trying to push you away...Maybe I am, subconciously, trying to get you out of my life. I don't want that...At least I don't think I want that. You're generally there for me when I need you. I am not sure, but I know I can't convince myself that you don't love me...

Three cheers to makin an ass of yourself!

2009-10-07T15:30:00.001-05:00

I'm pretty sure that I never want to go back to Oklahoma Authors again. EVERY. I'm a damned idiot. I guess if you're invited to a special function, it would be a brilliant idea to know who is being honored. I feel like an ASSHOLE.

Which leads me to my next point, goodbye booze. I'm saying goodbye. I will miss you. We had some great times, but you're not very nice. You take all of my money.

2009-09-30T23:41:00.002-05:00

Weeeeellll, I've decided to do something to settle my own indecision! It's pretty great that I've finally learned to make choices on my own!

I'm going to take both the GRE and the LSAT. Whichever score is better, that's what I shall do with my life. If neither one is good enough to earn an assistantship or scholarship, I'm going to by a van and do nothing with my life. haha.

2009-09-28T08:24:00.002-05:00

Is it wrong that I, an avid "alcohol connoisseur," agree with Obama's idea of an additional alcohol tax? I'm also a soda drinker and I agree with that tax, too. Hell, tax my Newports. I don't care. I'm the idiot partaking so why not make me one of the major contributors to the govt.

Repeating Disasters

2009-09-27T11:19:00.002-05:00

In a bit, I get to explain why I drink to the reason I drink.
I'm done with this "friendship."
I'm over the lies.
9 hundred miles can hide much deceit.
What am I supposed to say? I could lie to you, but I'm not as charming as yourself.
Too many years of my blunt honesty, now the truth can hold no lies.
I don't understand how people walk away when I do my best to even turn my back.
It fucking kills me. It makes me sick. I am done with all of this. Yet, you're gone and I'm still here.
What do I need from you that I cannot get from another? This is a question for which there is no answer.
I need you to walk away. I need you to turn your back. I know that I will never have the balls to do this. I know that I will always be your groupie. I will always be naive and small when it comes to you. I cannot take this anymore.

2009-09-26T14:17:00.002-05:00

Look. I know you don't want to hear it, but who else am I supposed to talk to? My friends think this is funny, but it's not funny, is it? No, it hasn't been funny for years.

Rant...A real rant.

2009-09-12T08:15:00.004-05:00

*Thank Facebook and fuckthesouth.com for this diatribe.

I love the South...I just hate you "Red State" bastards with your backwards ass ideas and closed-minded bullshit. I'm also tired of your stupid unpatriotic attitudes and ignorance-fueled hatred. You idiots wouldn't be bitching and calling people liars in a professional setting if McCain were president. Everyone knows you're a backwoods, racist, confederate flag waving moron. I grew up with you...I know what kind of people created you.

How dare you try to censor the words of our chosen leader?! I didn't like Bush, but you didn't see me (or other Anti-Bush citizens) throwing a fucking temper tantrum everytime he was scheduled to open his mouth. At least this President doesn't make up his own words.

And as for your stupid ass opinions relating to gay marriage, etc..., SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'm quite positive more than half of you idiots have gotten drunk and played rug doctor or hide-the-weenie with your best friends. Don't deny that shit now. You liked it...You probably loved it, but you were too worried about being disowned by mommy and daddy to do something that would make you happy. The only reason you oppose gay marriage is because you're stuck in some miserable arrangement "for the kids sake" with a womanizing prick. You're afraid that someone else might be happy. That's not my problem, that's yours. You should've had an abortion then you wouldn't be stuck with some semi-retarded, breast feeding four year old.

AND on that note, you talk too damned much. "Joannah Lee Bob Blossom Fucker loves her life with her family!!!1!!" If you post bullshit like this everyday, you're full of shit. You're lucky I don't call you on it. I'm not the only one sick of your bullshit. Some of us are single and loving it...We pity you.

Single folks: Constantly changing your relationship status? Have you thought that maybe it's you? Think about it or slit your wrists the next time your boyfriend of two long months breaks up with you.

The terrible part about this is that it's genetic. Your parents were dumbfucks, you're a dumbfuck, and those ugly little bastards you call your children are going to be dumbfucks. Go exercise your 2nd Amendment right. Maybe you'll kill each other off.

MEH

2009-09-12T02:07:00.003-05:00

Welllll, I am officially a money hungry IDIOT. I've agreed to work a total of 48 hours a week for the next who the hell knows how long. On top of that, tonight is the start of a 7 day stretch with no day off. I don't even LIKE these jobs. Matter of fact, I hate these jobs! Fuck. I am so ready for grad school that I can't stand myself. (that is if I am accepted. if not, I might as well just pack my shit and move under a fucking bridge somewhere. I can't work at a dumb hotel my whole life.)

I've been a little "blue" lately. I can't quite call it depressed because I've BEEN depressed and this isn't it. Anyways. I was at home today, cooking and cleaning, and two guys knock on my door. The apartment complex neglected to let me know that they had scheduled me for a carpet cleaning (Thank GOD I was even scheduled. I've been there almost four years and they've never cleaned the carpets!). The guys come in and take a quick look around. My place looked like, well, like I live there. Long story shorter, I had on NO makeup, my hair was doing some weird bird's nest thing, and I was covered in dog hair and refrigerator junk. No big deal except the black dude was HOT. He was tall, dark complexioned (is that a word?), and had a sexy deep voice. They leave. I'm embarassed. Whatev. About five minutes later, the hot one comes back upstairs with his business card and phone number. SCORE! Pretty good considering I've looked like hell and I've been arguing with Marcus for about a week now.

On another note, I found a flash drive from 2007 in my kitchen. It contained a ton of MP3s and one assignment from my Short Story class. I opened it expecting to find some gem that I had forgotten about. NOPE. While the premise was great, one situation from two characters POV, the writing itself was SHIT. I'm going to post it for a good laugh.

Class is kicking my ass. Not because I'm taking anything particularly difficult, but because I have no motivation. I don't feel like reading anything. I don't feel like forming sentences. I don't even feel like showing up to class. Some of the assignments seem simple enough, but I am no familiar with the types of writing that is being requested. I don't know what a theoretical model is and I definitely don't know what a research proposal should look like. I have been thinking about asking someone who's already an established professor to help me, but I would feel like an idiot...That and the last time I asked a professor for help, she kind of blew me off a little bit.

I guess I'm going to try to write something for African American History. I love this class. My professor is hot. I just don't want to do it! BEH. Wish me luck I guess.

Part II for no reason...

2009-09-09T08:35:00.002-05:00

So, I'm 26 and I have just figured out the key to men.

Ignore them. Treat them like shit. They will be all over you like the Right Wing media on Barack Obama.

I get it, but it doesn't make sense. Humans are odd creatures. If I ignore my dog, he chews my shoes up. If I ignore a man, they buy me things and beg me to hang out. Calling them names always seems to turn them on, too.

If I had balls, I would ignore Marcus for two weeks...Not answer any phone calls or texts. I wouldn't even take the time to press the ignore button...

64 hours of sweet freedom.

2009-09-09T07:18:00.002-05:00

I am so incredibly exhausted. I've had about 5 hours sleep since yesterday at seven am. School isn't killing me, but this job might be. I'm praying that come May 2010, all this bullshit will pay off. I'm praying that the GRE isn't as evil as I imagine. I need this assistantship for my own sanity.

I haven't quite kept up the end of the bargain with myself. I haven't been blogging as I promised. On the bright side, two days of caloric compliance. I'm hungry, but I am learning what I can eat and what will demolish my goal. I can't quite give up the cigarettes. I love them too much.

Speaking of loving too much: I am considering the benefits of pushing Marcus entirely out of my life. In theory, it wouldn't be too difficult. Stop calling and change my number. Who cares that I live in his apartment? But in action, it's the hardest thing I have ever even comtemplated. I shouldn't lean on him. I shouldn't want him like this. I shouldn't need him, but I do. Christmas with him has been the only thing to get me through the season for the past three (four? it's hard to keep track with a man like him...) years.

Love is stupid. It is beyond stupid. It is illogical. I can't make sense of it. It is frustrating to be such a control freak when I actually control nothing.

Done for now.

Last Breath of the Dying Light

2009-09-05T05:34:00.003-05:00

Starting today, I am quitting smoking. I am going to bust my ass in class. I am going to start eating better. I am going to start taking better care of myself. I am going to stop blowing money on stupid shit. I can still have my daily caffeine fix, but I am going to do my damndest to become a healthier individual.

I am going to start blogging daily. Not necessarily these bullshit rants that I've become so great at giving, but something. I need to work on my prose. First, I need to figure out what prose really is. I'm going to start studying for the GRE because DAMNIT I need at least a 600. I'm going to make sure that every paper I turn in is good enough to make an A. I need a 4.0 this semester and the next and the next. I have to be accepted to the assitantship program...Failure is not an option.

Oklahoma is not my home. I need to be in a place where I can thrive. I need to be surrounded by people that have the same intellectual interests. I need to be with people of ambition. I refuse to allow myself to stoop to the level of those that do not care enough about themselves. I pretend to be strong and not subject to the pressure of others, but I am fooling myself.

My drinking has grown out of control, so I am going to control it. Quitting all together is not realistic. I can drink, but I can't drink as much. Only special occasions warrant a drink. Yes, I plan on getting hammered at the OSU game. Yes, I plan on partaking in the wine at the Writer's Hall of Fame in October.

All of this sounds so simple. Everything sounds simple at six am. But I mean this. I despise the person I am becoming. I've made my bed, but it's time to get up.

Thank you. That is all.

2009-09-03T20:12:00.003-05:00

I was reading the confessional and I came across this:

"I read her blog for exactly the same reason I rubberneck gory accidents."

I thought for a minute...Could this possibly be directed to me? I thought some more and realized that it was within the bounds of reality. My life is a trainwreck. I know this, Marcus knows this, so I'm sure my readers know this (All two of you..)

I am venting again. Not really anything different. Like when I say, "I'm mad!" and my platonic life partner answers, "What else is new?" I would love to pretend that I have everything under control, but I'm not good at lying to myself...I never believe me.

This is more or less my journal. I don't know that it can be called a blog with so few entries and so few readers. I'm happy for the readers that I do have though. It connects me in a weird way that I can't connect with people off line.

Conversational switch:

I spent $110 on booze last night. I've spent over $600 on booze in the past three weeks. I'm feeling a little depressed. I used to have fun drinking. I used to love being at the bar and talking to people. But lately, it has lost its shine. I don't enjoy taking shots. I don't enjoy handing $8 to a stranger for evil in a glass. I hate the hangovers. It seems they only get worse. Instead of waking up with a mild headache, I wake up with motion sickness and vomiting. This could possibly due to the recent increase in my drinking habits. There was a point in time when I could buy two or three drinks, be tipsy, and go home. Not the case these days. It takes $60 or more to reach that point and even then, I fight sleep and continue drinking.

I feel better today. This rant started yesterday, but I definitely feel a little better today. My talk with Marcus did more for me than anything. I know that this is my battle to wage, but just knowing that someone else cares enough to be disappointed makes it a little easier to fight.

Love is something I cannot understand. I know that he loves me, I would be a fool to believe otherwise, but there is always something missing...

Done for today. Going back to bed.

The best $60 I've spent this week...

2009-08-22T01:36:00.002-05:00

So today, I wake up, hungover, an hour and a half from home...I drink a wine cooler, pack my things, and make the trek back to Tulsa. I realize I'm supposed to get in touch with my recruiter.

Maybe I should have forgotten all together, but I was being optimistic. I know that I've been a hellion in the past, but hell, doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? I want to enlist...I really do...I've always wanted to enlist, but in the shuffle and hustle of my younger years, I neglected to see the importance of acting. I've talked to the Marine Corps, the Air Force, Navy, Army, and lastly, today's meeting, the National Guard.

I arrive in the office. The Sgt. takes one look at me and informs me that if I can't drop fifty pounds in three months, then I am wasting my time and his. As he pulls up my arrest record, I sit there, praying that just this once someone will look at my accomplishments instead of my failures. He shakes his head and let's me know that there is no way in hell that I will ever be able to serve my country.

I didn't freak out. I didn't cry. I walked, head down, to my car and searched for some support. I texted my best friends, I called Marcus, I even called my grandparents. The phones rang and the texts went unanswered.

So I drove...And drove...and decided to shop, but walking into the store, one thought crossed my mind: So it goes...

So I went. And I made sure that I would always remember that no matter what happens, life will continue. And that no matter what changes I make, it will always go. I can't change the past, but I can direct my future.

For some reason, this tattoo hurt less than the rest. Like I was meant to have it. As if maybe, the pain was dulled so I would know that I was doing the right thing.

I love it. It makes me happy. I am proud to have something that makes sense to me. Something that I don't mind explaining... I am proud.

www.dafont.com/font.php?file=traveling_typewrite&page=1&nb_ppp_old=10&text=So+it+goes...&nb_ppp=10&psize=m&classt=alpha

What's wrong with me?

2009-07-14T06:35:00.002-05:00

I've been falling behind in my writing. This isn't on purpose, but often, I am struck be this overwhelming sense of inferiority to other writers. I read Bunniblog and realize that even when she's discussing the intricacies of making French cream puffs, she's still 134% more interesting than myself. I even read Steve Don't Eat That and think, "Wow, maybe I need to eat some Spam that's been in the cabinet for 7 years...Or some natto..." I visit my fave writing website and see that the Scriners can capture each other's attention with a quickly penned sentence. I feel like my work doesn't belong there either. I haven't written anything to be proud of since the Spring...maybe well before that.

I started a new series a few weeks ago, but can't muster the energy to start on chapter two. Shit, it's not like it should be difficult. It's my real life!

It's been like this lately for me. I'm becoming indifferent to my own life. I'm not sure that I really want to try anything these days. Work is a bore. Once I loved smiling and entertaining the guests during our brief encounters. Now I grow irritated if I am forced to open my mouth to them. Marcus has always been one that I have wanted to talk to. Someone that I would chase to the end of the Earth. But lately, I couldn't give a shit what he thinks. I still want to hear his voice, but it's as if his words mean nothing. I don't get happy when I speak to him, I get hostile because I wonder why he doesn't say the things he should say...Or worse, I wonder what the things he did say actually meant. I feel that he's the conductor of some mass conspiracy to string me along...To humiliate me. Somedays I think that this is his goal. To reel me in and cast me back out into the dark waters of the world. This neverending cycle is some plot to ensure my eternal loneliness.

I'm not unhappy. I'm okay with the idea that I am not as talented as my peers. I don't dwell on the idea that I will forever be trapped in the web of deceit and confusion that my own muse has spun for me.

I'll finish this late since I am incapable of finishing anything...ever.

FML

2009-07-11T01:19:00.002-05:00

What is wrong with me?

If you must know, I will tell you.

I hate my job. I hate being forced to tell people that they can't stay because I know they're only renting a room to do meth or pimp hoes. I hate the fact that my bosses are so freaking nice to me, but at the same time they run a flop house for local drug dealers and prostitutes. I hate giving nice guests refunds because they found a fucking roach in their room. I hate that I can't find a better job because I made huge stupid mistakes when I was 20.

I'm not happy that the only person I want to talk to every single day is busy. I'm not happy that I love him so much that I am unable to give attention to anyone else. I'm not happy that regardless of what he says, I don't believe him. I'm not happy with myself because I am so superficial.

I want a drink. I want Marcus. I want a better job.

It's so fucking ridiculous that no matter what good deeds I do, no matter how many classes I take, and no matter how many degrees I obtain, I will still be judged on something that happened years and years ago. It's not only work. It's life. I can't tell new friends what has happened in my life because 9 times out of ten, they will turn their backs on me.

I am not in the mood for this blog right now...I'm going to vent in other ways.

2009-05-28T18:57:00.005-05:00

I figured that I would start a new "series" for my blog. I can only think of two people that read this blog and I'm not sure how interesting this will be, but I'll give it a go and see what comes of it.

I started my college career like most other seventeen years olds from Podunk, Oklahoma. I knew that education was the only thing that going to get me out of the backwards ass town I was in, but I had no idea what I wanted to do. I started out with Psychology. I soon realized that I wasn't learning anything. I had only gained the ability to judge myself and others more harshly. Then decided I would follow my dream and go to law school. That went no where. Not for lack of motivation, but because I was informed that there were too many lawyers in Tulsa and I would finish my post-college days chasing ambulances or working for the district attorney's office. Neither of these were things that I was willing to do.

So I did what any other college student would do: Drank. In took the number of hours required for a degree, yet couldn't pass a single class. I drank so much, I failed Drama Theatre. I drank so much that the state of Oklahoma forced me to take a two year "leave of absence."

(That chapter is for another day...)

When I finally came home, I had lost everyone's trust. My own Grandparents refused to give me money for fear that I would spend it on earning DUI number two. They suggested I find a job at a call center or fast food joint and claw my way to lower middle class. They felt that someone with a record like mine couldn't aim much higher.

To add insult to injury, I was on Academic Suspension until I could bring my G.P.A up to at least a 2.0. (How sad is that?! I had managed to bring my average down to a 1.1.) I was banned from dong the only thing that I ever enjoyed. I had no money, no real job, and I had lost faith in myself. Everything that meant something to me had been stripped away. Ashamed and hopeless, I did the only thing I knew to do: I surrounded myself with low-lifes and poured a round of shots.

I refuse to lie to the world. I had a blast. I worked maybe twelve hours a week and partied about 42. I became an local superstar. People knew my name, at least. I couldn't walk into a bar, grocery store, or club without being recognized. At the time, I thought any attention was good attention. I thought that being the life of the party was something wonderful. Instead, I had become a joke to the other low-lifes.

To prove my own point.

2009-05-27T14:07:00.001-05:00

What does "I need to start doing right by you" even mean?!

meh

2009-05-22T21:59:00.002-05:00

I feel like one of the recent posted scrines...I'm tired of being ignored.

2009-05-21T17:16:00.004-05:00

I know that I probably shouldn't be doing this. I know that I should probably just move home with the grandparents and be miserable for a semester before I move off the the land of the younguns *AKA OSU*. I know I could save more money living there and be able to afford better things.

But you and I and everyone else know that the situation would last MAYBE two weeks. I couldn't handle not being able to cook, not being able to enjoy my nightcap, not being able to BREATHE without someone asking me where I was going or what I spent my money on...

Back to the topic at hand, you said we might not have time to do lunch...That's fine. A girl cannot survive on bread alone; there's got to be meat somewhere.

I know I shouldn't want you like this, but it just feels so damn good. When you called today, I could picture you in that uniform. If we weren't 900 miles and 8.5 hours apart, I would have jumped you like a starving dog would jump a pork chop. Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine.

I shouldn't be thinking about what it's like to have you. I know that when it's all said and done, I will be the one searching for meaning in every thrust, sigh, and moan. But I don't care at this point. I need you to make me feel like myself again. I need to know that I can still make your toes curl. I need to know that I am still beautiful in the eyes of the one that sparks my inspiration and fuels my insanity.

I love you. Every jagged scar, the curve of your stomach, the mole perched on your full lips... All of you.

The living contradiction that I find in you keeps me together and tears me apart. So perfectly flawed. You're a work of art created by a schizophrenic. Nothing means everything and everything holds no meaning.

Eh...I'm still smirking. I can't seem to get this stupid look off my face...You know which look I am talking about. It seems that I never get enough of you. Through the confusdark clouds and lightening, there's a little ray of sunshine and a chorus singing a ridiculously upbeat tune.

I appreciate you . I adore you. You're my end all to be all. Hopefully this all goes as planned. Wouldn't want to waste a fresh haircut and a pretty dress now would we?

just me being a baby...

2009-05-14T22:39:00.001-05:00

All marriages are stupid and they suck. Men turn into these big whiney ass babies the minute they get a ring on their finger.FUCK MARRIAGE. I will never do it, ever.(PS Men are big irritating babies anyways...I hate them.)I love having friends that talk to me about their problems instead of deciding that I am not good enough and ignoring me. (I hate it that they have problems though.) I am actually a good listener when I want to be. What good is a friend that doesn't tell you anything at all ever?

Seriously? Thanks...It really makes me just want to curse you out.

meh

2009-05-08T18:13:00.002-05:00

Who knew that I would be soooooooo lost without class in session?
I feel like I have nothing to do and that I should be doing something!

So, this is essentially a rant that I didn't want on MySpace because I am tired of bitching on MySpace...Because then I am obligated to read other people's rants and honestly, I don't really care what some people have to say lately.

George Clinton was AWESOME. Got to meet him. Also met a hot new guy...Then I find out he's an optimist and has kids...DOUBLE negative in my book. There is a difference in being an optimist and being easy-going. This guy is like the Easter Bunny on Meth or something. It's ridiculous. I feel like I am talking to a high school cheerleader or something. Fuck, just shut up already. I really don't think the grass is that green on your side of the pasture either.

The guests are pissing me off as well as the employees. I shouldn't be working at an Econolodge in the hood, but you know why I do it. I have a degree in this shit, but I've got to finish school before I start trying to be uppity.

Thanks for talking to me about the car. I know that it's not really you're problem anymore. I love you. You make me feel better about things usually. Whether or not you're in my life, you're still my support system...However messed up that might be.

2009-05-05T04:11:00.000-05:00

You know, I am perfectly fine until I have to hear your voice. I can handle talking to you for a few minutes about things related to the apartment only. What I can't handle is thinking about anything related to our relationship. I really want to scream and cry and tell you to get the fuck out of my life forever, but I need that lease. I really mean it this time...That lease, that roof over my head, is the only reason I continue to deal with the bullshit. When I thought I was going to be able to move, I was perfectly fine. When I thought that I wasn't going to have to deal with you again, it didn't hurt me. I only miss you when you're in my face.

SO what the hell am I supposed to do at this point? Am I supposed to just let you sign the lease and then act like you don't exist? That's probably the right thing, but what I really want is you completely out of my life. I don't want to be forced to rely on you for anything...No matter how small.

Yeah, you were joking about the strippers, but in that instant, I almost lost it. I almost threw every ounce of self-control and strength out the window. I hung up on you because I didn't want to hear it. I almost burst into tears...Like I am so close to doing right now.

It fucking blows (and that is a gross understatement) to love someone so much that you almost break under the weight. I can't be your friend. I am not capable of listening to you brag about your meaningless sexcapades, self-destructive drug habits, or complete lack of ambition and motivation. I worry about your safety and sanity as much as I worry about my own.

Yeah, I fucking care about you. So? It's not like you can't say the same for me. You're not complete evil. If you didn't care, I know that you would treat me in the same way you treat Ambre. I am unsure whether this whole mess is a product of my stupidity or the bastard child of your undesirable qualities.

I cannot say that I do not love you because that would be saying that you never meant anything to me.

It's different. As time passes, I find myself unafraid of my life without you. Instead, the thought of my future with you terrifies me. I don't want to do this for the rest of my life with you. When you leave, I am okay. It's when you come back that I fear for my sanity and security. Every aspect of my life suffers when you are around.

It's because when you are around, you're never really there. It's a mirage...An illusion...My false hopes lead me down paths that I am no longer willing to travel.I am not doing this...I keep telling myself that, but everytime I pull myself back into it.

I love you. I always will.

But I love myself more and the sooner I realize that and put my needs before yours, the better off I will be.

The Drinkin' Chair

2009-05-01T03:19:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting in Marcus' chair...His "drinkin'" chair. It is undeniably the most comfortable chair I have ever sat in, but it's ugly. Not typical ugly, horribly ugly. It's leather or could have been considered leather at one time. There are stains from his greasy mechanic hands on the arms; scuffs from his work boots on the reclining part. Scratches from his dirt caked jeans mar the surface. A spot of white paint is splashed on the seat and there is a definite groove (and oil spot) in the place where he used to rest his weary head.

I'd like to imagine that once, someone loved this chair very much. A man probably bought it, brand new, from some fancy furniture store in the city. He probably went into the store with their wife (or girlfriend or who ever it is people do furniture shopping with) looking for a couch or maybe a refrigerator...Anyways, so they're in the store and they're looking for the fridge and he sees this chair out of the corner of his eye. I imagine it was beautiful in it's earlier years. It's tan leather shone under the showroom lights, inviting him to sit for a minute. Just a minute. So he plods over and plops down into the chair. He leans his head back and pulls the lever. He lays his head on the smooth cool leather and lays flat, staring at the ceiling. Just relaxing. Then he imagines how awesome it would be to sit in this very chair after a hard day's work. He almost feels the cold beer in his hand. He sighs. He stands and turns to face the chair. It stares back at him like a puppy, begging the man to take it home. His wife (or girlfriend or whatever) walks over to him, rambling about the fridge that he doesn't give a shit about. He doesn't hear a word from her mouth. Instead, he's imagining the sounds of the game and the smooth leather of the chair. He turns his back on the chair and wanders over to the stupid fridge that he doesn't give a shit about, she's still talking, he can hear the announcer calling plays.

Then he stops. Dead in his tracks. Without a word, he spins and ambles back over to the chair, placing his hand on the head rest. A man needs...No...A man deserves a good chair. Every hard working blue collar man should have somewhere to rest his weary head and put his feet up. A drinkin' chair...A chair of his own.

"Stop. This chair. I'm buying it." His girlfriend (or wife or whatever) scoffs. She fingers the price tag. Again she laughs. She speaks, but he's not listening, he raises one rough finger to her lips. "I'm buying this chair." She shakes her head.

So he buys the chair and they take it home. It doesn't really match anything else in the house, but he's doesn't give a shit. It's his damned chair. No one sits in his chair, not even company. He eats dinner in his chair and sometimes, after one too many, he sleeps in his chair. The woman begins covering the chair with a quilt when he's at work, worried that he's going to ruin it's shiny leather with his dirty work clothes. Every night, he comes home and throws the quilt in the floor. The feel of the leather is part of why he bought...A small part, but a part...

Several years pass and one day after a particularly long afternoon at work, he comes home, he grabs a beer, and drops down into the chair. It's a good chair, it doesn't even creak under his weight. He turns the game on and proceeds to sip his beer. His dog comes over and lays down at his feet. His wife (or girlfriend or whatever) walks into the living room and stands in front of the television with her hands on her hips.

"Frank (or Mike or Joe or whatever), we need to talk."

He grunts and stares through her. He doesn't want to talk. She's been nagging at him for a week (maybe longer, men aren't good with time) and he just wants to watch the game and drink his beer and be in peace. So he's ignoring her and she clears her throat.

"I can't do this anymore."

He hears her, but he still doesn't want to talk. OU is down by ten because that piece of shit Quarterback can't keep 'hold of the ball...

"Do you hear me? Are you listening?"

He replies with another grunt. She kicks his chair, leaving a long rough scratch in the side.

"Listen to me!"

She turns on one heel. She's ranting and raving now. Going around the house, throwing things into her suitcase, bitching. "You don't care, blah, blah, Your fault. Nag, nag. We don't go out..." She sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher. He chuckles. This makes her even more angry. He turns up the volume on the game...She's marching and nagging and it's halftime. He gets out of the chair to get another beer from that ridiculously expensive fridge that she just had to have. She follows him into the kitchen.

"I've been cheating on you."

He looks at her standing there with that smug look on her face. He grabs a beer and opens it with his dirty arm. After a long pull, he says, "I know." and walks back to his chair. The cushion forms around his butt as he sinks into it's seat. She's crying now, OU is down by fifteen now. She's apologizing, but he doesn't give a shit, his team is on, there's a beer in his hand, and a good dog by his feet.

She leaves, slamming the door behind her.

Nothing changes. He still comes home every night, plops into that chair with the dog at his feet, and drinks a beer. The chair is showing it's age. His ass groove is visible now. A water spot crawls over the arm of the chair from Super Bowl Sunday when he had too much and dropped his beer. The foot rest starts to sag a little bit, but it's still his chair and he still loves it.

One night, the man goes out with his rowdy friends and meets a girl. They date for a long time, she's a nice girl. She comes over and cooks and cleans. She plays with the man's dog. She doesn't touch his chair. After about a year, she moves in...Slowly, the way most women move in...a toothbrush here, a couple panties in the drawer, maybe some shoes in the closet. No sudden movements as if men are wild animals...

So he asks the girl to marry him. She's a good girl.

After the wedding, she tells him she's redecorating; Get rid of the chair. He doesn't for a few months. He still comes home and plops into his chair, cold beer in hand. She replaces the furniture around the chair. She tries to put a slip cover over the chair. He throws it in the floor and sits down, cold beer in hand.

One Friday night after a particularly long day at work, he comes home, grabs a beer, and turns on the game. OU is up by fifteen points. She comes in and lowers herself into his lap. He shrugs her off, leans over, and starts to pet his dog. She stands up and kisses his forehead.

"Honey, this chair has got to go."

She's not angry. They don't fight. She never nags about his dirty boots or threatens to leave when he stays out too late. He loves her and he knows he has to get rid of his chair.

He wakes up early the next morning and loads the chair into the back of his truck. As he's wheeling it into the consignment store, something catches in his throat.

The shop keeper comes out and eyes the chair suspiciously. The leather is cracking, there's a large scuff on the left side. The foot rest sags on the left side and there's a water spot on the right arm.

"I can't give you anything for this chair."

"I know." The man grunts.

I imagine that the man's eyes begin to water. He's not crying because men don't cry, but he's not happy. He wipes his eyes with his dusty shirt sleeve. He gives the chair one last look, shakes his head, and leaves the store.

A couple of days later, Marcus stolls into the store, looking for a coffee table and a sofa. There's the chair. He walks over to it and plops down. He doesn't notice the cracked leather or the crooked foot rest. The chair hugs his butt and he sinks down into it's cushions. He imagines sitting in this very chair, large glass of Everclear and Diet Pepsi in hand, playing X-Box, with a big dog sleeping at his feet. He's found his very own "drinkin'" chair.

He gives the shop keeper $5 and takes the chair home to play X-Box.

Screams to whispers

2009-04-24T18:35:00.002-05:00

She lies directly in front of the door. Her black mourning dress is wrapped around her shapely legs. The dingy carpet around her is littered with demolished tissues and dog toys. Marcellus’ golden ears perk up as my voice floats through the air.

“Amelia. Get up.”

She doesn’t stir.

“No. Not today.”

There is no sadness in her voice just that matter-of-fact tone that people have when they are really sure of something. Marcellus, Kellan’s dog, whimpers at the sound of her voice. His tail sways as he rises to greet me. The tattered couch cries as I lean onto its back.

“What’s going on?”

She rolls onto her back. Dried charcoal streaks line her face. Carpet fuzzies cling to the smashed side of her unruly, chestnut locks. She stares, not at me, not at Marcellus who is licking her cheeks and prying on her clasped hands, but at nothing in particular.

“Do you remember…Do you remember when the four of us went bowling?” An odd smile tugs at her cracked, bleeding lips. “The band? And when Charlotte threw the ball across three lanes? She made a strike…Is that what it is called? A strike?”

“Yeah, Amelia, a strike.”

“A strike…” Clearing her throat, she starts again. “And do you remember the walk to dinner? How pretty it was outside? The sky was purple and the rain was pouring, but we were all too drunk to care?”

She’s still not looking at me.

“And the food? At that place? On Magazine Street? What was the place called?”

“Semolina’s.”

“Yeah, Semolina’s. We had the waiter so flustered he dropped Charlotte’s wine in her lap…”

“We can’t change anything now, Amelia.” I slide to the floor next to her. Her hair is crunchy between my fingers. I pull her trembling body to mine.

“You know? The tears just won’t come anymore. I try. It’s just not fair.” Her voice is barely a breath now.

“It’s not our fault, Amelia”

My own voice sounds weak and unsure. It wasn’t our fault…As much as it hurts, I can only try to convince myself (and Amelia) that there was nothing we could have done to stop Kellan from doing what he did.

“But, see, it is. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I loved him. I loved him more than I love myself…”

The blood rushes to my face and I can feel my nails threatening to pierce my skin.

“But you love me.” My voice drips with insecurity. The statement presents itself as a question. “You didn’t love him as much as you love me. Don’t try to change the plot after the book is published. You wouldn’t have changed a damn thing and you know it.”

I stare at Amelia with disbelief. I destroyed my relationship with Charlotte. I betrayed Kellan. MY best friend, Kellan Montoya Jenkins, the kid that I used to play catch with in grade school, the big-eared class clown that taught me how to pick up girls and drive a car was gone because of my relationship with this woman. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her until she realized what she was saying, what her words were doing to me.

“But if I would have opened the door, I could have calmed him down, I could have…”

And in that instant, it all comes rushing back to me. I can no longer hear Amelia’s obnoxious rambling. My ears roar with the sound of the gunshot and the shattered glass. I see the pink mist fly from the back of his head as he crashes to the ground. The steely scent of blood and the sweet sulphur of the gun smoke fill my nostrils, gagging me. I can feel the warmth of his blood slipping through my fingers as I reach for him. So much blood, more blood than I had ever seen in the ER. Red stripes painting the door behind him. The neighbors in the apartment next door, screaming broken English into their phones, the scratching of their bodies against their doors, struggling to see what has happened. I sit there as his life escapes, as his heart stops beating. I don’t feel it, I hear it.

“He would have listened to me because he loved me.”

“He was going to kill you, Amelia. If I hadn’t been there, he was going to shoot you just like he shot himself.” I’m pacing as if pacing will somehow erase the crushing feeling pounding in my chest. I stop pacing and my legs refuse to continue support. The floor rushes up to break my fall. She calls my name. I try to smile and speak. I want to let her know not to worry, but the room fades to black as her frightened screams turn to whispers.

A Man and His Dog

2009-04-24T18:02:00.001-05:00

I stare at him as he works on the sleek black cycle. The tail of the scorpion that rests on his upper arm escapes from the sleeve of the tight t-shirt as it struggles over his hard, pronounced bicep. The tiny mole disappears into his mouth with a purse of his full lips. He’s long and devoid of fat except for the round curve of his stomach, the beginnings of a beer belly though he quit drinking months ago. He wraps his hand around a screw on the bike’s handlebars. It looks so small in his large hands.

Chodyn lumbers over. He’s fat, though Marcus will never admit this, the dog is fat. He’s a funny looking creature. 145 lbs of fat slathered muscle jiggle with each heavy step. His silvery tan coat sparkles as he crashes down beside me on the cold concrete floor of the shop. He forces his large snout into my palm and nibbles at my hand. Marcellus, my much smaller companion, bounds around the corner from the showroom. He leaps onto the larger dog’s back and growls playfully. The pit bull mastiff mix snorts and drools on Marcellus. They tumble into a scooter, almost knocking it to the ground.

Marcus is looking at me. Not grinning, not smiling, just staring at me as I stare at the dogs. Watching as I push my unruly black hair from my eyes. A sad smile crosses my face as I look into his bright brown eyes. Marcus walks over and separates the dueling animals, snatching his friend by the scruff of the neck.

“You know? There’s only two things in my life that I could always rely on…Alcohol and my dog. And now that alcohol is out of the picture, I’m left with my dog.” His voice is rich and deep filled with only the slightest drawl to tell of his Southern Louisiana roots. “And my dog would never betray me.”

I don’t know if this is a dig at my infidelity, or his own, but I know a dig when I hear one.
I clear my throat and study a grease spill beneath my heels. Marcellus trots up to me jumping, begging for attention. I lean down to pick him up. The tan and black dog proceeds to remove my make up with his tongue wagging his tail with ever lick. In that moment, I get what he is saying. Dogs are innocent, childlike, and they love unconditionally.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I’m here. Even when you’re gone on another one of your sexual escapades, I’m still here. I’ve never intentionally done anything to hurt you. I’ve always been there for you…I think it’s pretty apparent that no matter…” My throat begins to close and my eye twitches threatening to spill tears. Marcellus leaps from my arms, tumbling ungracefully onto the grease spot. His coat is now covered with oil and kitty litter. I laugh to keep myself from crying. “No matter what you put me through I am here for
you…I am here with you. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

His grips my chin between his rough hands and pulls my head up so that I meet his stare. He’s silent momentarily. The corners of his eyes tug on the corners of his lips and a small, tortured smile crosses his face. He places his large thumb over my mouth as he leans down to kiss my forehead.

“I know that. I never said you did. I’ve never thought for a minute that you would.” He turns his back on me, swiping a towel and a water bottle from the counter. He spritzes the water onto my dog, rubbing the towel across the drying litter. Marcellus tries to bite him and the towel as it musses the fur. Without looking at me, he continues. “I’ve made mistakes. I cheated on you. Every chance I got, I slept with her. You didn’t deserve it…Hell, you deserved revenge. But I know that you’re too good for that kind of petty shit. When you told me you had sex with that other man in our bed…You were lying because you wanted to hurt me.” He’s still not looking at me.

A single tear slips from the corner of my right eye. I catch it in the tip of my artificial nail. I look at it; grey from my supposedly waterproof mascara, it catches the light from the shop, and glitters on top of the white acrylic. I wipe it on my leg leaving a thin black streak on my otherwise spotless khakis. I got my painful revenge. I beat myself up over it for months. I had convinced myself that no matter what he did to me, there was a reason for his insanity. But for him to sit here and tell me that he didn’t believe that I slept with that man…It stung worse than the actual act. “So you’re telling me that you are so self-important that you don’t think I am capable of the same actions as you? You’re really going to sit there and call me a liar?” My face is hot and my lips quivers. My knuckles have turned white from digging my nails into the palm of my balled fist. I imagine slapping him. I can almost feel the slight burn as my hand meets his face. I can’t hit him. Instead, I spit. I spit, disturbing the brake dust that has settled on the smooth concrete.

He jerks his head up and glares at me. “Watch your temper.”

“Fuck you, Marcus.” I shock myself, but the damage is done and the words continue to spill from my lips. Regret will hit me later, but in this moment, I don’t give a damn. A shocked look covers his face. “Four years of this BULLSHIT and I’m tired.”

He starts to speak, but I’m not done yet. “Four years of your lies and you manipulation and your self-important attitude and you know what? I’m done. Now. This stops right now. Cam wasn’t the only one. How about you ask Lou? Yep, Lou. Ask him about the fun we had when you were at work. Go ahead. Call him.” I pick up his phone from the wooden shelf and chunk it across the room. Though it was in one piece when I threw it, it’s now in several. The keypad is under one bike and the battery rests in the kitty litter oil mixture.

“What the hell?” Marcus jumps up and begins collecting the pieces of his precious electronic black book. The look in his eyes is frightening. I’ve seen this look before and with this look, things always end badly for me. Not this time. “Don’t even think about laying a hand on me.” The wrench in my hand is heavy and awkward. I’ve never once said anything back to this man. Never once have I raised a hand in my defense. I’m lost and shocked at my own actions. I look down at the wrench. When I do, he grabs my wrists, shaking the lead tool from my grip. The dogs are barking now. Marcellus bites the ankle of his boot. With a swift kick, my tiny friend whimpers and flies across the room. I slam the tip of my pointy toed stiletto into his shin. He releases my wrists. Blood flows freely down the back of my throat and over my lips as the bones of my nose shatter under the weight of his large fist. I scream and begin to choke. Marcus’ best friend growls, furious that someone is harming his master. Chodyn throws all 145 pounds at me pushing me backwards onto a bike. I feel my back snap over the kickstand of the machine. Marcus yells something as he reaches for Chodyn’s collar, but it’s too late. The dog closes his massive jaws around my neck. Teeth tear into my flesh and I lose consciousness.

and again

2009-04-02T09:18:00.002-05:00

I've done it again...done something extremely risky, dangerous, and irresponsible that could jeopardize not only my school and work, but also my life and my freedom.

I can't deny it anymore. I need help.

I hate AA. I don't like the concept of Celebration Recovery. I haven't heard of any other groups to help alcoholics get sober and straight.

I can't keep doing irreversible damage to my body and mind in search of fleeting happiness. It's not healthy...And I will die.

And I will fail...That is a fate worse than my own demise.

I don't even know anymore.

2009-03-20T17:01:00.001-05:00

I told you something huge...And you said, "I don't care right now."

You know what? I am begining to see what you are truly made of. Hatred and selfishness. You are the person that I have always been good to. You are the one that I have always treated better than anyone else. You are the one that I wanted to do this with. You are the person I fell in love with.

I'm not sure I am in love with you anymore. I am not sure why I keep coming back or why I hold on so tight to something that isn't what it was. You have never been anything less than the hero in my story until now. Now you're the villian. You're someone that I don't respect. You're no longer my support system...Instead, I feel like I need to support you.

I can't carry you when I can hardly carry myself.

Numb again

2009-03-18T19:31:00.002-05:00

I am so numb right now...with good reason.

I don't know if this is the end, but maybe it should be.

I'm more worried about the lease than I am anything else. I already said the other day that I was tired of this mess...I love you, but I don't love this you. I love the person I knew in 2006 and 2007...The begining of this mess. I don't love this person that doesn't make time for me. I don't love this person that has no clue what he wants in life or what he feels about me.

I don't doubt that you love me, but it's not enough at this point. It was enough a very long time ago when you cared about my school and you cared about me.

If this is supposed to teach me a lesson, it's not teaching me anything except for how to hate you.

When you said that you would do anything for me and you loved me but on a different platform it wasn't enough. It's not enough it never is.

Nothing is ever enough actually. You and I in the begining worked so well, but you said the other day it was empty. it meant everything to me...

I'm done. I'm messed up right now and I am going to try to do something productive.

No Hook

2009-03-10T23:33:00.002-05:00

So this semester is totally kicking my ass. I'm not sure if it is pure laziness or if I am actually too stupid to complete the assignments required of me. AAH doesn't make sense. I love listening to that man because he is incredibly intelligent with a soothing voice, but I cannot help but think maybe he is purposely tripping me up. I don't understand half of what he is talking about. I can read the material and it clicks, but it never sticks. So then I'm left staring at my test like a five year old trying to read Freud. My AMST class makes sense, but this stupid paper is tough. I don't know how the hell to compare American Psycho to Psycho and I sure as hell don't know what means you would like for me to use when comparing horror of personality flicks with real life. Pop Fic isn't too bad. My Prof is hot, but why does the whole damn theme have to be sex and gender? I don't really think that when Ross McDonald wrote his pieces he was thinking about what the Alice character said about women of the time...No, he just wanted a bitch to kill something. Genre is the only class I'll likely pass and that's bc it's all BS. I write whatever the hell I want and the can analyze it however they want...Not my prob.

Anyways. part two.
Marcus is completely driving me insane. I'm tired of this, "I love you/I care about you" bullshit. If you really feel that way, then don't you think four years is long enough to form some sort of commitment? I'm not talking about marriage. A freaking title of some sort would be great. I got drunk djing the other day and I text him, "I love you?" At that point, when I was having fun and working and drinking and being hit on by attractive men, it was a question. I kind of wish I could have expressed that fully when he asked...

Ah fuck it. I need to get on my grind and get back in shape and quit worrying about all this bullshit.

Hey Latest FairyTale?

2009-02-16T04:37:00.003-06:00

You confuse me...

Hope I didn't get too drunk and out of hand tonight...

I think and I have a habit of saying what I think before thinking about what I am saying...

I like having you in my bed this weekend.

I didn't even mind taking care of your drunk ass all day Saturday.

blahs...

Maybe tomorrow.

Fairytales and nightmares.

2009-02-14T21:05:00.001-06:00

Every fairy tale turns into a nightmare.
I hate this right now. Though I am not thinking of you, I am thinking of you. Thinking to much causes me nausea, so for now, FUCK it. and you too.

Hope you're having fun hundreds of miles away with that smug little bitch.

I hope you choke on a chocolate.

I get it now...

2009-02-13T04:41:00.001-06:00

I get it now...You weren't in my life to be my one and only. You came into my life to show me that though I've been through the proverbial trenches, I can always find my way out. I love you for that. I know that right now (and everytime you leave) you're not happy about it...You do it to prove to me that though you're the only person I have...The only person that is sad when I'm sad. The only person that hurts when I hurt...I can make it without you. You're out to prove to me that though I miss you and though I love you and at times I feel that you destroy me, you don't. You're there to make me stronger than I have ever been.You know me better than my friends...Better than my grandparents...Better than anyone I have ever come across...And you know that I need someone like you to prove to me that I don't need anyone.It all makes sense now. The promises that once we both get our shit together that things will be different. The argument about me feeling abandoned and how it is different thatn when other people leave me...I get it. You don't hate me. You love me...You love me more than anyone else ever could. And as much as it hurts me and as many times as I have sat alone in your...In MY apartment and said that I couldn't make it without you, I can. That's what you want proof of...You want to know that I can be okay without your continual support.It is different. You don't leave because you want to, you leave because you know that you have to leave. You have to show me that I am okay without you or anyone else.You told me I needed a dog...Someone to keep me company when you left. You told me that one day everything would be different. You told me that people have to fix themselves before they can focus on anything else...You offered to come to my graduation. You told me that you were afraid for me because you're afraid that I will fail...Right now, as I sit here, with tears in my eyes, I love you more than I ever have. You're a complicated creature, but I am dark enough to see your light...Thank you...I will see you again...As soon as I straighten out this mess I have made, I will see you again...Just know that no matter what happens and no matter what is said about you, you're my life raft.I love you, rat.

Wonder if it's worth it...

2009-02-11T23:54:00.001-06:00

I want him OUT of my life...For good. Forever.
Sure, his company is good when I drink. Sure, I appreciate the expensive shoes and the brilliant ideas and the sparkle of hope that crosses his eyes when he comes up with the notions that he thinks describe me.
But I want him gone.
Number one, I am pissed off that he "borrowed" money from me without asking.
Number two, he's irritating when I am sober. I'd rather be alone than tolerate his presence in my home.
Number three, well, as long as I know number three no one else really needs to know...
I hate him. I hate everything that he stands for. I don't want to date a man that dropped out of college and works at the fucking mall.
He's a distraction. I am afraid to fail. I'm afraid to fail so I set myself up for failure so I have something to blame it on when things go wrong. I don't want to succeed. It's to the point now that I question why I would ever want to succeed. It doesn't matter to anyone, but me, and at this point, it doesn't even matter to me.
I have all these high ambitions and hopes and plans that I don't ever see happening...See? I'm a creature of habit and drinking and bad behavior are my habit.
I'm going to bed now.

Numb

2009-02-11T22:59:00.003-06:00

SO I'm numb, literally.
The cocaine feels like it has seeped through every inch of my body.
I wonder how people do this everyday all day, but then I realize that I do it, everyday, sober.
I walk through life, numb, not feeling anything in particular, just there.
I have no control over the things that happen to me or the things that don't happen to me.
I don't have control over my mind. It's there. It thinks or doesn't. The feelings just don't come normally anymore.
My emotions come like a junkies sobriety. They're fleeting, but painful, sending me into convulsions of fear and terror. The real world is too bright, too real, too unyielding and my heart can't take it. It's possible, right? To retreat into a numb, unfeeling state of existence? To feel everything and feel nothing at the same time?

I don't know why I started this blog...Just that I am mad about something else. It's so random. Maybe because in a room full of friends, I feel alone and empty. Maybe it's because I'm tired of advice, I'm tired of having the few feelings I share be downplayed. Maybe it's because though everyone around me in my day to day life thinks that I am this strong, resilient woman with no worries and an easy life...

I'm not.

I surround myself with men for which I have no use. The Uggs are nice...A thoughtful gift on his part, but he doesn't get me...He sees a puzzle, someone to figure out and tame. I see him for all his is worth. Nice only gets you so far in a world of wolves. And his lies kill me...I know he didn't get that coke for someone else. A person doesn't lose weight that quickly without some aid. I don't want to date a college drop-out with a promising career at a mall shoe store. I can't stand the thought of his snow white skin touching mine. I can't stand his voice.

I surround myself with "friends" that I really don't care for. Something isn't right with almost all of them. My married friends don't have time for the single girl. My unmarried friends only have time to party. Marcus is the only one that has ever cared about my success and even he has turned his back on me...Again and again.

The memories of the lies that crossed his beautiful lips sting in moments of fading emotion. I don't think about them for the most part. But sometimes I do...Sometimes I sit at a stop light and the tears slide down my face. My throat closes and my chest pounds. I'm losing it. I'm slipping again, backsliding. If he knew that I was drinking before class, he would tell me I was fucking up. He tone would drip with disappointment. If he knew I had done blow, even once...Well, I can't think of the harsh words that would come from his mouth.

I'm okay without him. I swear that I am. I miss him in bits. Someone will say something stupid like, "wausau" or "this shit right here?" and I'll miss him. And I'll think of his rough hands on my face.

I'm done...I have nothing else to say. The thoughts have stopped...I'm tired of being numb.

Bitter

2009-01-28T15:57:00.002-06:00

Yeah...I'm doing it this time by myself...No strange men in my bed to keep your spot warm. No sleeping around to push the pain back. Everything is what it is...Real, raw, painful, there.

I can't do anything this time, Marcus. I can't keep doing this with you for the rest of my life.
I know that you usually come back and say that you're sorry and tell me how much I didn't deserve the treatment and I know that those are my fondest memories of the most recent past. It's sick, really, to look back and smile when I think of the tears in your eyes and the remorse in your voice. When I think about how you cannot stand the thought of me with someone else. It's disgusting to be happy about someone else's pain, but you cause it everytime. You hurt me...I wonder if it's intentional or if you have some bigger plan attached to your evil.

I don't really know that you have any idea how bad it actually does hurt. I'm tired of trying to explain it and I am tired of talking about it because according to (nearly) everyone, I have brought it upon myself.

Who knows...Maybe this time you won't come back...I hope you do. I hope you come back like you have every other time with an apology and a kind word.

I still love you. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Keepsakes (genre assignment)

2009-01-16T01:26:00.007-06:00

Keepsakes:

What is it? I look at it...Shrouded in the typical clichéd symbolism of all jewelry. Everyone knows what it means or what it is supposed to mean. The Journey. The trek through the never ending trials and tribulations of love. It’s meant to be a representation of how love starts small and keeps growing until the end. It's hopeful. It's thoughtful. It's bright and shiny and full of optimism.

I've never been a true optimist and I haven't been hopeful in years.

See, we started out so big, like the bottom of this pendant. Bigger than this, that's obvious. Better than this.

Before I met you, I was weak and naive.

You were a force and together we were a hurricane, slamming into the coast. I could do anything with you by my side and you finally had someone to listen to your stories and wipe away your tears without judging you or spilling your secrets. It was you and I....We were resilient…Not unlike this large diamond. I thought we were stronger than anything because nothing is harder, stronger, than a diamond.
But then I met her.

She cut me down with her accusations and the seeds of ignorance you had planted in her mind. She cut you down with her nagging and name calling. She spilt all of your secrets. She used them to form weapons. She cut us down with her undeniable truths. She cut us down, not enough to kill us completely, but enough to convince you that you should leave…

But like that little pendant, something keeps us attached. You came home. You always come home. No matter how many times she tries to separate us and kill us, you come back. You always leave, but you always come back.

But we are no longer a force…Each time you return just a little bit smaller, just a little weaker, just a little bit less of the man I once knew.

I’m waiting on you. I’m attached to you like the settings of these stones. I’m holding us in place until the day you finally make a decision. Until you finally gain the courage to build us back to the force that we once were. I’m holding everything in place, but the settings and the chains are weakening with time and wear. The little arguments and the little jabs at each other’s soft spots wear at the bond. Her manipulations and her lies are adding to the stress. She tells you one thing, bending you. She tells me another, bending me. Even the strongest of metal will succumb to enough heat and pressure. Eventually, stress points will form and everything will snap. It has already started.

But for now, it holds. The settings, the chain, the bond. Everything is in place. Everything stays right where it was the day it was given to me.
But one day…

Fiction(ish)

2009-01-12T00:43:00.002-06:00

It's an odd feeling, this sobriety as they call it.
Nothing really sobering about it.
I feel lost and trapped with my own thoughts.
I feel that any crazy thing that has ever crossed my mind was, in deed, crazy.
I feel that maybe my true muse was alcohol.
Or maybe you're my true muse after all.
I miss your face. I miss your skin on mine. As many tears as I have shed behind you, I must say I miss being able to cry over something other than you.

Germs (From Naming the World)

2009-01-11T14:18:00.008-06:00

Germs Assignment:

A girl wearing expensive shoes on an unmade bed in a cheap, dingy hotel room, crying.

I stare at her: her makeup running races down her round cheeks. Her dark hair matted with tears and sweat, struggling with her expensive blouse, too frustrated and upset to complete the simple task of dressing herself. I reach for the right side of the shirt, unsure of whether to remove it or attempt to help her put it in place. She slaps my hand and begins to sob loudly. Her eyes meet mine for a single fleeting moment. I begin to study the filthy, threadbare carpet beneath my feet. I glance at the wall behind her shaking body. Disgusting remnants of former guests are smeared above the headboard.

She doesn't belong here, but I have brought her to this place. Her hopes and love for me have carried her to places far away from her cushy upper class upbringings to a seedy motel in rural Missouri. She is bigger than this.

My mouth won't open, but the words are right there. They're choking me. I clear my throat.

"Look. I..."

"I don't want to hear your fucking mouth. Not a fucking word, Marcus. Nothing you say can save this now."

So small, so classic, so dignified, but her anger has, again, gotten the best of her.

"You have done this..."

"And I can't fix it now."

I've heard her song so many times, its lyrics, etched into my mind. I nod. My song is one that she knows all too well. My song is unchanging. Someday I will be better. Someday, it will be you and I. Someday, I will be different. I cannot say nor do anything because this, this sad portrait of a misplaced soul, is the mess that I have made.

"What do you want me to say, Amelia? Do you want me to tell you I'm leaving today? Do you want me to tell you that I'm miraculously cured? That I can just walk away from her and promise that I will never cheat on you again? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No, Marcus. I want to know why I'm not good enough...Why I'm never good enough..."

I shake my head and grasp her chin in my rough hands.
"You are good enough. You are perfect. We've been through this."

She jerks her head, her eyes green and alive with a hatred fueled by contempt and self-loathing. She’s testing me. She’s daring me to say something wrong, to say something right, to say anything.

"Well, do me a favor and refresh my damn memory."

I sigh and look at the ceiling. I slowly bring my eyes back down to meet hers. In that instant, they’re blue and it’s gone. The hatred and loathing and shame have been replaced by blind faith. I reach out to her, deliberately, purposefully, like I am reaching out to a frightened animal. She doesn’t move. Instead, she leans into me. A solitary tear slides down her face and drops onto her chest. She kisses me and I kiss back. It begins again. It’s so right and so incredibly wrong at the same time.

I can't do this with her anymore. I love her, but I am not capable of being the person she deserves.

You are your own victim.

2009-01-08T17:32:00.002-06:00

You are your own victim.
Anything you suffer comes from within yourself.
You say you need time to think, you've got a lot on your plate,
But thinking does nothing if change doesn't come.

You are your own victim.
You say you relish your solitude,
you love the idea of being alone,
but you lie.
You cannot stand being alone anymore than I.

Goodbye 2008, you shitty year...

2009-01-01T02:03:00.004-06:00

I am so glad that I am not drunk like the rest of my "crew."

B is in Owasso with Tooley...Who is not either one of the guys who have proposed to her this week. Genius idea. Had she not broke up with the good one, she would be in Tulsa, safe and sound...Not sleeping with a 29 year old career bouncer. Sad, sad...

Strawberry is crying, drunk, and driving around Tulsa. Karmen is riding with her, drunk and crying because she broke up with Philly. Ah, drama. Sure don't miss that.

Athema is shacked up at her house with her boyfriend who is young enough to be her son.

HA. I'm at work. Making money. That's what I do: Work.

B's little drama set off my own insecurities today. I'm so glad that you are capable of dealing with me without getting angry or irritated. I know that I did it to myself. I upset myself. I love you more than you can possibly understand. You're a breath of fresh air in the smoke thickened world that is my life. I'm not biding my time with you. You know that wasn't necessarily the best choice of words, but it makes sense. I could find someone else if I agreed with your notion that I have convinced myself that I cannot do better. I haven't convinced myself of anything. I don't like that word: Convinced. To me, convincing someone (even yourself) of something means that you have tricked them into believing a falsehood. I have not been tricked. You have convinced yourself that I can do better. I see it like this: Every horrible lie you have ever told, every time you have ever cheated, every person you have ever wronged do not outweigh a single good thing you have done. I cannot say with all surety that you are ever going to change, all I can do is hope that one day, you realize you are more than you let yourself be. You are bigger than the turmoil that you leave in the wake.

For everything that I have ever had to courage to say, there are a thousand little things left unsaid. I say I fear only failure, but in reality, I fear that I may eventually lose you. Fear is the heart of all love and I have never been more afraid of anything in my life.

So I will be here. I cannot walk away from this and I cannot fail you.

I love you.

A Rant for stupid people.

2009-01-01T01:01:00.003-06:00

B,

Really? Shut the fuck up. I am soooooo sorry that you lie and cheat. I am sooooooo sorry that you are leaving a good man who takes care of your bad ass children for "Dave" who has never been totally serious with you, lied about his real name up until last year, and is still just fucking with your feelings. I'm also sorry that Dave is bad in bed and that the only reason you are choosing him over the other is because he is white and closer to your age. You're a complete idiot. Seriously. I don't want to hear your bullshit when "Dave" picks up his shit and leaves you and those bebe's kids sitting on the curb. He's not going to tolerate your party lifestyle...And what you are failing to see is that if he actually does marry you, you'll live together...Makes it super hard to cheat there buddy... The other one is so good to you. He actually tries to pull you out of this "welfare" slump you are in. So what if the engagement ring was only 1/8 of a carat? Do you think that you actually deserve anything bigger? I don't.

And how dare you say that I am not stable enough to have children. You think that you are? Do you think that leaving the kids with a babysitter all day, everyday is good for them? Especially when you leave them with that punk kid who is mean to them...Those poor, adorable children never had a chance. You're too busy looking for Mr. Sugar Daddy to see that those kids need some damned discipline...And not the kind you give them. You can't just yell at them everytime they do something you don't like. You have to be good to them and guide them...WTF man? You can't tell me nothin'.

C,
You are seriously flawed. That man doesn't love you. How much more obvious can it get? You do this to yourself. Of course he didn't buy you the ring you wanted, you dumbass...He doesn't listen to you! Besides, why would you ask for jewelry when you haven't even been with the man a full year? I've never straight out asked Marcus for jewelry...You're crazy.

Dashing my hopes and dreams...

2008-12-22T01:54:00.003-06:00

Wow.
I'm working...Late...Day 4 into the three weeks with no days off stint. I love my job. Not because of my employees, though I have two that make it kind of worthwhile. Not because I can yell at people and write people up for random shit because I don't like thier attitudes. I like my job because of the people! I love hearing thier stories. I like it when they are happy and I like it when they are complete assholes.

I was talking to a guest earlier. She's 61. A nice looking woman for 61. She had come into Tulsa because she was meeting up with her high school sweetheart. He was flying to Tulsa from Pheonix to come stay with her for Christmas. She hadn't seen him in 38 years and she was nervous. She told me that they had been together for almost 7 years and she finally married someone else...She told him, "Well, you wouldn't marry me!!!" She said he's the only one who's given her butterflies all this time.

I had high hopes for her meeting. I wanted him to be like Jake Lalane...All old and buff and rich! The story was so romantic and it seemed that a story like that meant that maybe Marcus and I had some hope afterall...

Well, when she meets the guy for the first time after all those years, he's old. Much older than his sixty years. He has a cane and seemed to be in the early stages of Parkinson's. (This isn't to say he's not still a great guy, but I am superficial and shallow.) Poor thing. She said, "He needs a lot of work and he's sick.."

Damnit. Does this mean that when Marcus finally comes to his senses, he'll be old and shaky? Living on SSI? I don't think I can wait that damn long and if I did, I don't think I would want to deal with that!

We're arguing right now...More like, I am pissed and he finds it comical. He always laughs when I am pissed. I curse like a sailor and say things that are completely irrational. I have a habit of saying things I don't mean, too. But, damnit...I'm tired of it! I'm tired of waiting on him to make up his mind. I'm tired of only being able to talk to him between 5 and 5:40 every night...Or only being able to talk to him on his way home from work. I'm hot, damnit. I've got a great ass and great boobs and I'm pretty! I'm my own person. I pay my bills and handle my "bidness" like a woman. Why the fuck am I chasing my damn tail waiting on this asshole? I keep trying to convince myself that I hate him and I never want to see him again, but who am I kidding? I can't go longer than 24 hours without hearing his voice, so how am I expected to cut him off completely? Everyone who knows him and knows me seems to think that he does love me and that he is protecting me from himself, but why does it all feel like a sick, sad excuse?

I keep telling myself that if I do this or that, then eventually, he'll see that I love him beyond reason. I know that if he did come back, he would cheat on me and lie...He knows that and that is his excuse. So why am I feeling like I would be content with that?

Ugh...Done for now. Just bitching.

Randomness

2008-12-08T06:13:00.003-06:00

"Have you ever had mind-blowing sex? The kind of sex that makes you want to die? Just fall in the floor and give up and die." ~ Grey's Anatomy ~ Izzie

Ugh...That's what I've been thinking about this morning...Hell, all night...The fact that he's with her at this very moment clinches my heart, it feels like someone has wrapped their hand around my heart and is squeezing...Like it will explode at any minute. I want him in every way. It is killing me that I know that she, this little younger thinner version of Ambre, is the reason he has chosen to place me on the backburner, again. It is not as if this is the first time, but it hurts everytime he does it.

You know what else hurts? Taking my lawyer $250 extra for something that I feel is quite possibly futile when I only have $40 to my name...Something else that hurts? Knowing that I have to put Clayton to sleep because he is suffering. Knowing that my little travel buddy is going to die. Knowing that I am the one that must take him to the vet to end his life. He was Marcus' pet...How did I end up being the one making the difficult decisions? He's an innocent animal. He's never bit anyone or caused any problems. Clayton makes my life much easier than Marcus does...I would rather put Marcus to sleep than Clayton, but that wouldn't be legal in this country...

Being out of school is going to drive me back to drinking. This job is not going to take up enough of my time to keep me sane. Besides that, I have one employee that I would really like to fire. It will not bother me one bit to work sixteen hour days, seven days a week. I'm really going to try to give the moron a chance, but I'm almost certain that his is not competent enough to save his own ass. (And if he hits on me one more time, I'm going to slit his throat with a room key...) Upper management really doesn't give a fuck. They're too busy renovating and trying to impress the owners. Our sales guy is tolerable, but I don't think he is capable of doing what he needs to do. I think the goals of the new company are lofty and unrealistic, but I'm sure as hell not telling them that. Another thing that is bugging the shit out of me is I don't really feel that the other employees respect me. Not ALL of them, but two inparticular.

Well, I'm out, again...I've got to go to Financial Aid and kiss some ass....