Friday, March 21st, 2008
What a gorgeous day it is today. Regretfully, I spent most of the morning & part of the afternoon in my stuffy apartment doing chores around the house & watching an addicting America’s Next Top Model marathon on VH1. Sofie had been whimpering by the door all morning. Thinking that she had to go potty, I diligently took her outside to do her duty but she didn’t want to go potty, she was dying for a walk around the block. Every time we made our way to her not-so-private bathroom (our apartment house’s front lawn) she would instantly start trying to go towards the sidewalk. I finally got her hint & relented into taking her for a walk. & that’s when I discovered, almost shamefully, how much of a beautiful day I have missed. It must be 80 degrees outside & I wasn’t prepared for this because I wore my recent Target purchase, the black & white striped sweater with a pair of dark washed skinny jeans. I was feeling faint by the time I walked through the door & I immediately stripped down to my skivvies & changed into a more fitting attire. (I kept the shirt; it’s far to cute to neglect today & put on some rolled up shorts with sandals.)
& now I sit here, wishing I had a laptop so I can fully enjoy my writing & my peanut butter sandwich in this glorious weather. The closest thing would be to open all of the windows & let some light & fresh air in; unfortunately, our very nosy & noisy tenants will get in the away of my serenity. Regardless, I’ve nothing to complain about today. Actually, that’s not true. I have plenty to complain about today but I don’t want to. Why spoil this amazing energy flowing through my world right now?
Finally, it is Friday. I was thinking in the shower this morning that for the first time in a long time, for me personally, it actually really does feel like a Friday. Usually… my Fridays feel like an everlasting Monday & the weekends feel like an everlasting Sunday. Backwards, I know, but they really did used to feel like this when I was working. I feel like I am on vacation right now; vacation in my own little apartment with Sofie Aiko, who is now sprawled on the hardwood floor, sleeping fitfully after a grueling 1/4 mile walk in the sun. As much as this weather is putting a smile on my face, I’ve decided that I would rather be enjoying some unrelenting, unforgiving rain. My sister, who is in Texas, says that it’s pouring over there & that she’s never experienced weather quite like this. I am jealous of her, which is funny because she is equally jealous of me, wishing that it were short-wearing weather in Texas right now.
I am looking forward to the weekend, wondering what type of adventures me & Lover will get into. He is my partner in justice, as I like to say. Fortunately, he is taking Monday & Tuesday off, so we’ll have so much time together that we may just run off somewhere & not come back for a while. I wish we could. He & I need it. Things haven’t been quite easy for the two of us. We are now experiencing those confusing newly-married troubles that will never actually get resolved, just better. I hate it when we’re disagreeable with each other but I am grateful that he is so loving to someone like me who is as stubborn as he is patient. Being married is not easy. In the beginning it was. It seems that all you had to do with just continue with the life you already had before… just with someone else in the picture, who you will spending the rest of your dying days with. It’s truly not as simple as it sounds. It’s much harder than I expected, but completely worth it. Especially for me, because I am so persnickety & strong willed sometimes that a good piece of humble pie from my husband really hits the spot, even if it doesn’t taste very well.
I am full of analogies today. & metaphors & useless ramblings. I wish I were at the beach right now. More importantly, I wish that the beach were right at my doorstep, maybe then I would actually go. The beach isn’t so far away from me; maybe about 30 minutes to the nearest beach, but the dread to travel there through clogged freeways & dirty air never makes me want to get up & go. So I spent many days last summer wallowing at the fact that I never went to the beach. When, in fact, I could very well go… I just didn’t like voyage there. Why must the beaches in California be so hard to get to? The most favorite beach of mine is nearly 2 & a half hours away. The thought of that gut wrenching drive makes me cringe.
Sigh. This weather is giving me a very good buzz & before I come so intoxicated that I cannot think straight, I will stop my jabbering here & find something to do to keep me busy until my husband arrives.
Wednesday, March 19th, 2008
I am still reeling over the previous entry; not as much, especially after showing Lover my purchases (he particularly likes the skinny jeans), but still… just enough to make me feel a bit guilty.
Another lifeless, meaningless day as an unemployed housewife. I am starting to see a pattern. I never wanted to make the subject of my writings about my housewifey-ness necessarily; it just so happens that when all else fails — job searching, television surfing, walking Sofie, showering, eating & drinking coffee, bugging Lover at work, etc. — I have no choice than to sit here & describe (also known as: complain about)� my day, which involves me sitting here… describing. Who am I kidding? I bored out of my mind!
Job searching is the most boring thing you can ever do with idle time. Even more so, I bought new clothes yesterday & won’t really have an excuse to wear them until… well, something exciting comes up. I could always just get up & go somewhere just for the hell of it, but for what? To waste gas? To waste time? I am an advocate for never wasting makeup, perfume or good hair on a lazy day. A bit neurotic, yes, but it’s quite truthful. After all, I would prefer to feel my best & look my best when it’s absolutely necessary. There is nothing worse that being all dressed up with no where to go. Fortunately, men don’t have this problem (or maybe they do, I’m not precisely sure). Better to just sit here in pajamas & ponder what to do next.
This emotional outburst of discontentment is coming from many areas: caffeine jitters, boredom (which was already mentioned), loneliness, PMS (sigh), & a nicotine craving. Yes. I, little Miss Purity Pants, am craving a cigarette. Actually, I have been wanting a cigarette for weeks now. My body longs to take short drags from a cancer-stick. How awful. & all of this is really very silly because I have never been a smoker. Not really. I mean, if you call “bumming” drags off of other people & not inhaling, just puffing, smoking. I don’t know where the cravings are coming from, but I long to have one.
Is it just me, of does everyone smoke these days? Really, I can’t watch television — cartoons even! — without witnessing someone nursing a cigarette in their mouth. It’s so aggravating & it doesn’t help my nonsensical cravings. What’s even more frustrating is that I complain about this so much & yet it could all be solved by just buying a damn pack. It seems so easy, but it’s truly not. My ego & pride always get in the way of what I truly want. Sometimes this is a good thing; but for my nicotine craving it’s very hindering.
The cravings came to an all time high a few nights ago, while I was watching old movies. First, it was Roman Holiday. I watched Audry Hepburn take short, swift drags of a cigarette in one scene, as she said, “This is my very first” or something like that. Why is it that movie stars in that era (the 30s, 40s, 50s & 60s) could make smoking such a romantic, sensual & classy thing to do? Ever since I was young enough to understand, I always wanted to be a black & white movie kind of smoker. In between exhales I would speak in that kind of accent that everyone during that time seemed to have, whether they were from New York City or London. I would exclaim, “Why yes, dah-ling… of course.” In my mind, this was the most feminine act a woman could do to proclaim her sexuality. Smoke a wretched, nasty cigarette gracefully, while still being quite womanly & classy. Not very many can do that nowadays. Things have changed, of course. No one ever exclaims, “oh, but of course, dah-ling.” No one wears timeless dresses to the supermarket. No one invites anyone over for tea or coffee. No one that I know, I mean.
In the other movie, The Blue Gardenia, everyone smoked in that movie. Perfect little women, with hour-glass figures & accurately pinned hair smoked as though they were making love to the cigarette. I am not over exaggerating. Watch an old movie & surely, you will see what I mean. Even the men made cigarettes look dangerously handsome & alluring. So much that you don’t even think about lung cancer, or breathing problems. All you seem to focus on is the steady, rhythmic inhale & exhale of the toxic, yet hypnotic smoke, almost wishing you could be so lucky as to be inside of them. I suppose I should be speaking in first person, referring to myself instead of “you,” because I have never met anyone who idolizes 1950s cigarette smoking. Hence, the reason I am an unconventional girl.
A bit shamefully, I must admit that when my husband smoked religiously (a pack & a 1/2 a day when we first met) I was dangerously attracted to him. There is something intoxicating & rebellious about a handsome young man playing with the cigarette between his lips. Something very seductive. I can’t put my finger on it — maybe it’s because I admire so much men like Cary Grant, Gregory Peck & others when they are aimlessly smoking — but it makes me weak in the knees. Lover has been sober from cigarettes, alcohol & anything else toxic to his body for nearly a year now; although, he occasionally has a cigarette a few times a week. When I know this, I reprimand him, making a big deal that he is going to die from cancer & become an isotope (something I saw in one of those TRUTH commercial years ago, that I never quite understood, but isotope sounds like a very serious word). Truthfully, I become aroused at the thought, the smell, the idea of Lover with the smell of cigarettes on his breath. It’s a love/hate kind of thing; a bittersweet fantasy.
I must finish this entry now, for Lover just surprised me by walking through the door to have lunch with me. I greeted him with a big hug & a kiss & was astounded at what I smelled on his breath: cigarette smoke.
Tuesday, March 18th, 2008
Sigh. Being unemployed with a semi-full bank account is dangerous. I only wanted to go to Target for a few feminine products & a jar of pickles. That’s it, really. Nothing else because we have everything else. While I was getting ready I kept talking to myself saying that I would just look at the clothes. Just one look. & then, I would walk away, collect the items on the list & mosey on home to my messy kitchen that needs to be cleaned. That did not happen.
I tried, I really did, but I ended up spending over $80 (!!!!!) on things that I really didn’t need. But, in defense of myself, they are very cute. The purchases are as follows:
- a 30% off striped, black & white, boat neck sweater; one that I have eyed for months. Years actually, for I saw Kirsten Dunst wearing something like it at a premiere for her new movie, Elizabethtown & I fell in love.
- a pair of semi-acid washed skinny jeans; I just had to get them. When I tried them on, they fit like a glove. For someone of my size, that is a huge feat. Jeans never fit my small frame & for $20 dollars? Steal!
- the book “A New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle; I’ve wanted this for months, also. I heard it was the bee’s knees. I really did.
- lavender dish soap; it’s like killing two birds with one stone because you are not only tackling grease, but you are inhaling the calming scents of lavender, which is a natural stress reducer.
- tampons. (is there a more… professional term for this? I hate this word.)
- panty-liners; trust me if I had to put some items back, it would have been this & the one above it. But… it’s inevitable. No need to elaborate any further.
- a jar of hamburger dill pickles; just because we needed them.
- a 12-pack of 7-up. All natural! It is my new regular.
- spearmint Stride gum. Also a regular.
- &… a pair of wide, wide-legged khaki pants, which fit like they were made for my cute little booty. They must have been, or else I would have been able to resist a little harder.
Again, I sigh. How does this always end up happening to me? It’s a conspiracy! It must be Target’s marketing; I have never been so hypnotized by anything else (other than monkey bread). I can usually control myself really well. But, I simply just lost my marbles & found them by the time I set foot into the real world, into real sunlight & real air. My first thought: Jonathan is going to kill me. Alright; that is a tad dramatic, but I know he will reprimand. Even before I had left, he warned me that I always say that I’m going to try not to spend so much money. & what did I do? I overspent.
Actually, I did quite well, considering I also had in my arms a striped tank-top henley & this darling, airy, coral tank top that was made of some sort of… silk. I was close to purchasing that, on top of a new bottle of mascara & more panties. But I restrained myself. I truly did. So, kudos for me. I would have ended up spending over a hundred if I wouldn’t have kept my wits about me. But still… I truly didn’t need the clothes. Or the book. The moral of this pathetic story would be that while I am in Target (or any other store that has merchandise to die for, really) I need to focus. I mean, really, really focus. Unfortunately, my focus button was broken temporarily today. Here’s what was going on in my brain while shopping:
Focus, focus, focus. Alright. I’m going towards the food section. Oh, wait. Hm, what’s that I see over there? No, no, Ev’Yan. Don’t you dare go near those cute little pile of tank tops! Don’t you even think about trying that skirt on! Or those shorts. Actually… that would be really cute with those shoes you have. Hm, or maybe this dress would be better? No! Just back away; you don’t need it! Well… I’ll just hold it in my cart & think about it while I’m shopping. Now lets see: do you really need that set of dish towels? They are pretty soft & fuzzy & the color would be perfect in the kitchen; hmmm. NO! Focus! What does the list say? Concentrate one the list. Okay… now simply just get only the items on the list. ONLY the items on the list. Ooo! That’s such a pretty color! I’ll just look at the sales rack… NO! Focus!!! No… no… stop! Don’t!!! I’m warning you!!!
Finally, my brain couldn’t take anymore arguing & it just surrendered. I think it may have put elevator music on to distract & tune out what was really happening. & now I sit here, depressed in my effortless attempts to try to hold myself back, trying to convince myself that there was an exception to the extra items I purchased. Frankly, I have buyer’s remorse.
Now, I must try to regain my confidence back & not sink into a lazy state of mind, or my messy kitchen will never get cleaned.
Sigh.
Tuesday, March 18th, 2008
At this moment, I must be honest & say that I do not know what to write about today. Not yet, at least. But something happened last night that jolted me quite a bit. Lover says that I always have the most interesting things happen to me; I have to agree. Even though I will get nothing but sadness from writing this, I feel it is worth mentioning.
Last night, I was on my way to picking up my husband from work. Around 5pm, but not quite on the hour. I am a very safe driver — or so I think — so I am always trying to make fast but conscious decisions while I am on the road. Coming towards a stop light, I noticed upcoming traffic in the lane that I was in. So I signaled, looked over my shoulder to avoid missing my blind spot & merged into the far right lane. Literally seconds later, I heard a tremendous ruckus. It sounded as though a big metal trash can was lifted & then dropped to the ground. Still at the red light, I looked over my left shoulder to see what on earth that noise was. What I saw frightened me: a car has plowed itself into another car, creating a chain reaction that involved a van, 2 other sedans & a bus. It didn’t even try to stop. I saw glass & debris all over the pavement. I was bewildered; was that a car accident? I didn’t hear screeching tires or a horn. All I heard was a thud, a crash & then saw the debris spilling onto the pavement. Behind me, though, I could see the car that had gotten plowed into. It was smashed completely. The light turned green, but I was still trying to understand what had just happened. I was close to turning around & seeing if everything was alright; maybe there was something I could do in that moment. But, I continued driving to Lover’s work. When I finally arrived, I told him what I thought had happened. He seemed concerned, but I think we were both hopeful that it was a simple fender-bender & nothing more than that. I drove back in the direction of the accident — which was really about 10 minutes later, maybe less — & they had closed off the entire intersection. There were dozens of police cars & fire trucks & ambulances. Stretchers were out & you could see the medics moving quickly. I gasped. It was horrific. I wanted to get nosy, but I was already jolted at the fact that that could have been me. After all, I was in that lane just seconds before the accident but something prompted me to switch. Why? I kept asking myself this as I drove home. Lover grasped my hand tightly & told me how much he loved me. He said “you are meant to be alive right now.” A shiver went down my spine; even now that I write about it, I am getting goosebumps at the thought.
Upon returning home, I turned on the news, hoping to catch a glimpse of some sort of “breaking news” update. I missed it on 2 channels, due to the distractions of kissing Lover & asking him how his day went. I am not complaining at that. I did try to research online about it, but I couldn’t find anything. Certainly they wouldn’t have a full story on something that had just happened 20 minutes ago. In the end, I decided that surely there would be something the next morning about the accident. Reluctantly, I gave up the search fro details, but I still kept thinking about it over & over. So… while enjoying a cup of coffee, I went here & read grimly. There aren’t much details about what happened, but at least 3 dozen people were involved & 3 people were seriously injured. All I can think right now is that could have been me, as morbid of a thought that is. I remember seeing the van & the bus; I passed them right before I changed lanes. If I would have stayed in that lane, my car would have been the one that got plowed into. I didn’t sleep well (again) last night. Also, I have a habit of watching the most wretched things on television before sleeping [the show Intervention on A&E]. My mind was wandering for hours before I actually went to sleep because of it.
When I kissed Jonathan good-bye this morning, I kept thinking that I shouldn’t be here today. I was a few seconds away from being in the hospital with the other victims. That kiss was one of the sweetest I have ever given him. & at that moment, I thanked God for being with me in that moment.
All I can do now is sigh. I don’t know what else to do other than that.
Tuesday, March 18th, 2008
Unfortunately, there was no more rain. Just a terrible wind storm that kept me up most of the night, for fear of giant palm trees crashing into our loft. The winds were very violent. The gusts must have gotten up to 80mph, or so I’m assuming since I am not weather expert. But it was enough to keep me wide-eyed & anxious most of the night. Poor, Jonathan; I must have woken him up several times, whimpering like a scared puppy, asking him if the trees were going to crumbled into the house. He held me close to him, saying that everything was going to be just fine. I hardly made it through the night. California is having some very extreme weather. I woke up this morning, thinking that the wind storm would still be going on. But surprisingly, it was calm out. Not one cloud in the sky & the was shining as though Mother Nature had a bipolar episode & is now convinced that she just went sleep peacefully last night. The wind only did damage to our fence at the side of the apartment; it has completely fallen over towards our door at a complete angle. Other than some annihilated branches that were not ready to be shed quite yet & lots & lots of dust, everything seems normal.
Today has gone by quickly, being that I have managed to stay completely busy with things that aren’t important enough to mention. Housewife chores & errands. Jonathan joked last night that he is going to be sad when I finally do get a job because he will lose his happy stay-at-home housewife. I joked back & said “you know… I don’t HAVE to get a job.” & that was the end of that conversation. Truthfully, I am enjoying myself. I am enjoying this wonderful time I get to spend alone (I mustn’t forget my Sofie!) . All this time to which I may do whatever I please — within reason, of course. I have had to hold myself back from returning to H&M & purchasing whatever my heart sees fit, as much as I loathe shopping. I’m not completely a sloth, couch-potato, slacker, whatever you’d like to call it. I do much around the house. I can’t remember the last time Lover did the dishes; neither can he. I have made dinner nearly every night this past week, which is a big deal, considering when I first moved here I relied mainly on Lover’s cooking. I truly enjoy cooking & I am happy to get through my husband’s heart through his stomach.
We completely rearranged our apartment last night. Jonathan says that it brings much more energy in the house. I have to agree. We spent all of last night together in a very togetherness sort of way. While I watched old movies (Roman Holiday, which is one of my most favorites & The Blue Gardenia which is the essence of class & sophistication) Lover messed with his blog, talking to me every once in a while to get my opinion. We made coffee at 10 o’clock or so & ate these extremely delicious dark chocolate biscuits while giggling at the Talk Sex With Sue show. We had a wonderful night, which is funny to say because it wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes we do much more extravagant things in our evenings together; but why this night was special from the rest, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I realized how much I love him. Maybe it’s because I realized how much he loves me. & how our loves manifests itself in the simplest things; like our dog, Sofie. Or the weather (we both adore cold, overcast days). Or anything really. Everything is much prettier when you’re in love; whether it be with yourself or a new album from one of your favorite artists.
Thankfully, Spring is just around the corner, which I didn’t know until today. That is the sheer giveaway of all of my delight today. Spring is mating season, as well, no?
Sunday, March 16th, 2008
The most amazing thing happened this evening after I wrote my last entry: is started to rain. Down pour, actually. When it seemed as though it were starting to surrender, the clouds enclosed again… but this time, it started hailing. Goodness; I don’t remember the last time there was a hail storm in California. Even in my old town in the desert it had been a while since we even got a good rain. Lately, Los Angeles has been far from sunny. It’s been bitterly cold & the weather has been fickle for the last several months. How I love this weather. It makes such a difference when it is raining outside. The air is extremely clean; being in L.A. that is a huge statement. I believe we’re [one of] the nation’s worst city when it comes to air pollution. One thing I miss most about my old town — as dusty, dirty & cut-off as it was — was the clean air. & the desert sunrises. It was beautiful. You would look up & there would be nothing but sky; clouds & sky. Here, you are lucky if you can see the horizon amongst the buildings & the cranes & the smog. Even the mountains that are only a few miles away from my apartment are rarely seen, due to the poor air quality. It’s heartbreaking. Even so, that is all I miss about my hometown. There is nothing more that beckons me to come back; not even my own father.
It was a quiet evening. Lover & I managed to get a lot done before the rain really started to hit. & luckily, I was able to have a break from cooking for this week. Funny to think about me being “domesticated” as my older cousin says. Even though these values have been instilled in me from my own mother, it’s still a bit amusing to think of myself as the doting housewife. I am practically a biological mother to my dog, Sofie. Regardless, we truly do make a beautiful family, Sofie included.
Lover & I had an interesting conversation tonight over a stomach-bulging dinner. (I just have to mention a very delectable place to eat called Chipotle. They serve gourmet burritos & they are a pretty close way to get to Heaven. Also, if you feel like having just one meal a day without feeling guilty about it, go here. You won’t eat for over 24 hours, it is so filling.) I have been thinking lately about fantasies. Sexual fantasies to be precise. It dawned on me the other day what my fantasy is; I have always never known. Or, really, I have always thought it was the usual “firefighter costume” fantasy that practically every woman swoons over. Once I was honest with myself, I found out that I was terribly wrong. I asked Lover point blank “What is your biggest sexual fantasy?” which was really out the context, for we weren’t even hinting the subject of sex at all. He told me his & he asked me what mine was. To be quite honest, I asked him what his was because I knew he would ask me the same question after revealing his answer to me. & I wanted to tell him mine. I needed to. But of course, I beat around the bush the whole time, telling him mine was too awful to even say outloud & that he would hate me for what I would say. He promised he wouldn’t (& he kept his promise) urged me to trust him. It took me about 30 minutes & 3/4 of my burrito bowl before I could get up enough guts to spill it. I told him that I found it quite erotic & sensual at the idea of having an affair. Why I willingly wanted to tell him something so heartbreaking, I haven’t a clue. Maybe it was because I needed him to know; maybe it was because I just needed anyone to know. Maybe it was because I was curious of his reaction. More importantly, I think I wanted to know just so I could finally be honest with myself. Telling someone is the first step to owning up to something, of course.
His reaction was calm, bewildered & comforting. He made me feel safe in my answer as I tried to explain to him why I, of all the people in the world, would find something so disgusting & dishonest attractive. I told him that I wasn’t sure if I could stop myself if the opportunity came about that I could have an affair to get away with it. He assured me that I am okay; he didn’t say normal, which is great because I didn’t want to hear that. He told me that everyone has fantasies but it is my responsibility to make sure that the actions don’t bleed with my values. I told him I was afraid that I was going to end up like my father; that maybe infidelity is hereditary somehow. He said that addictions are hereditary, infidelity isn’t. I beg to differ. Infidelity originally comes from the desire to have pleasure & it is quite possible to be addicted to pleasure, is it not? That’s why addicts fancy drugs; they make them feel good. That is just a theory; my mind going off in spurts like usual. But I understood what he was saying to me & appreciated his own understanding towards me.
Writing about this now, I feel guilty for even having this be a topic of conversation. Infidelity is something that hit my family very hard & very suddenly. & to have this desire to have the thrill of being unfaithful makes me a bit sick. I don’t like it… but it is me. Jonathan says I need to discuss this with my therapist. Frankly, I am tired of therapists. I am tired of revealing so much of myself & feeling sucked dry at the end of the session. Sometimes the feeling can be a good release, but mostly… I just feel sucked dry. I know the way therapists work; they listen to your problems & validate your feelings, even if you are slightly wrong. Not saying that I have had this happen a lot in my own sessions, but a few times I noticed that when I should have been… reprimanded for my behaviour or thoughts I was encouraged to dig deeper. I don’t like that. I have been going to therapy for over a year; it has given me much clarification but I am weary of it. & even if I did go, how might I explain that I am pre-meditating an affair within my marriage of only about 3 months? Not to say that I would actually go through with it but just the utter thought of me thinking it….. it’s not your everyday, sit around the dinner table & debate kind of topic of discussion.
One thing I do know in the midst of all this confusion is that thinking about it hard will only make it worse. It will only make things more foggy. To entertain those thoughts & ideas is to feed them & keep them warm & safe in my mind. That cannot happen. At least I know that admitting it is acknowledging it. & as I always say, honesty is always the best policy.
It’s late but this time change has messed with my body too much for it to register that it is nearing 11:00 o’clock. Lover has retired upstairs long before me. My mind doesn’t want to sleep right now. Honestly, I wish that he were still awake so we can talk softly into the darkness, which would lead to sweet kisses & warm embraces & ultimately a love making session. I could wake him, but tonight I am enjoying the ample sounds of his soft, rhythmic breathing.
My only wish is that it would rain all night.
Saturday, March 15th, 2008
Saturday mornings are my most favorite. After having such a long week, filled with loneliness & frustration, being woken up to the sounds of Lover in the kitchen & the smells of fresh coffee brewing makes up for all the trouble life has seemed to cause me. He & I usually eat a late breakfast; we’ve tried to stick with this tradition every weekend, but there was one time where we made such a big breakfast (huge cinnamon rolls, grits, hashbrowns & veggie sausage, I think it was) that we literally hurt for the rest of the weekend. I think even by Monday we were still hurting. Recovering from such a scrumptious breakfast (by then, it was actually lunch because we weren’t eating until about 12:45pm) wasn’t fun, but eating it together & laughing at our bulging stomachs was. I have never had this much fun with an individual before; male or female. Actually, that’s not quite right. Me & my sister have had wonderful times together. I miss her a lot.
The other night, I was cleaning out my treasure chest — the one mentioned in my about page — & oh, what goodies I found! Embarrassing, humbling, saddening goodies. Old dolls I used to play with; Petey the Christmas Mouse, Snuggles the Bear & BlueBaby the… baby. (Why I named a Cabbage Patch Doll BlueBaby at the age of 3 I have no idea.) I found that I have kept [almost] every birthday card from my parents. Each of them said the same thing: “Our dearest Baby, happy birthday! We love you so much. You are growing up so fast.” I was 8 in one card, 10 in another; thirteen & seventeen in a few, too. The only cards I couldn’t bring myself to read were the ones where my parents had just separated & instead of one card from my parents & one from my sister, there was one from my father, one from my mother & one from my sister. Separate cards for the separation. I couldn’t read them because even at the time when I had gotten the cards, I was a utter mess. I couldn’t even finish reading the cards without crying. It was such an emotional time for all of us, one that I am grateful for because it made me see just how much my mother & sister mean to me. Though my father is quite lost, I love him regardless.
There were other things in the box that I dared not even look at. Such as the journals that spoke of lost lovers & hard times. Depression & heartbreak were the theme of most of my diaries. Then again, depression & heartbreak was the theme of the years 13-17 for me. Although this will sound wretched, I can’t help but to think that my life was much more interesting during those times. I mean, much more interesting in a reading sense. I don’t like going back to those pages only because it’s hard for me to understand that that lonely girl was me. & then, of course, the pages that tell of a twisted romance aren’t very good to read, either. Professing my love to my “future husband” who never turned out to be is also hard for me to admit. Almost like a “yuck” reaction. But deeper than “yuck.” It’s more like a “I can’t believe that I was actually saying those things, feeling those things & doing those things with HIM.” I don’t regret it. No… I do. Revisiting that part of my past is something I hate doing. I mean, literally hate & I try not to use that word because it truly is a harsh word to use. But I hate it. I refuse to share those words with my own Husband. Not just because of the humiliation I would have to face, but the words were obviously not true & I don’t want him to read those lies. I don’t want to read those lies, come to think of it. Eventually, I want to get to the point where I can burn those journals just because it would signal the end of those ghosts haunting me. I can’t bring myself to do that now. Even if I wanted to just burn them right this moment, I couldn’t. I still feel like all of those emotions, all of those memories are apart of me somehow. Again… yuck.
Lover is gone for now; he’s at the gym. He has invited me every single time he goes to the gym & each time I decline. I don’t know why I hate working out so much; no, actually, I think I do. I hate the fact that society is so focused on dieting & slimming down & shaping up & eating right & all of that. It’s this horrible trend that everyone is succumbing to & many of them are beautiful just the way they are! There have actually been a few times that I will grab some form of junk food (monkey bread if my favorite, but greasy chips & dip has much more of a shock value) just to be like, “Yeah… I’m eating that even if it is unhealthy & is going to stick to my insides. I’m eating it because I want to, dammit.” It’s even worse that I am as thin as I am… I am so stubborn. But that is another story.
Friday, March 14th, 2008
I need sleep; I am actually quite tired, so I don’t expect this entry to make any sense; not even to myself. But I don’t feel like sleeping in my bed. If I could stay up all night, I would… but I’m too weak. I would pass out on this desk before I do that. The floor is cold in our apartment; I think that is another reason I dread getting out of this seat. I am not wearing socks. I wish that I could just cut to the chase & express what I truly feel right now… but I can’t. Yes, I am a chicken-shit. That & I don’t even know what my problem is. I am emotional & heartbroken. My mind will not stop racing. I know these feelings all to well… thankfully it won’t get to that specific point where I can’t breathe. I say that not because I have faith that it won’t, but because I know for fact that it won’t. The little blue pills I take only allow just enough emotion to pass through me… & when it starts becoming too bad, I just stop & get a grip. It’s the strangest feeling to be abruptly okay.
I feel like I’ve said more than I was ready for; at 12am it’s easy to see why. Lover is sound to sleep & I am downstairs, freezing to death because I’m afraid to step onto the cold floor; literally & metaphorically.
Because I’ve nothing nice to say, I’d rather not say anything at all.
