wallflower girl, you’re always thinking.
Thursday, June 5th, 2008
My equilibrium is off today. I feel as though my thought processes are trying to evolve into something a bit more, something rich; but my inhibitions keep them from resounding loudly into open space. Moreover, my head is swimming in memories that I’d really rather not recall, but it’s as though it is happening without my control.
My sister will be turning 19 in a few days; this thought makes me feel older than what I am & reminiscent of younger times. Visiting her a few days ago was lovely & I miss her as though she is still in Texas, but she isn’t. I sometimes wonder if it would be easier for my emotional state to have her back in Texas, rather than now being 45 minutes away. Because then… I wouldn’t be so tangled up in the feelings of our relationship. When it comes to her, I am very overprotective & defensive. I feel like she is the only innocence left intact in our ridiculously fallen apart family. & this is why I am protective of her: I feel like it is my duty to keep her young & free & happy, even though in her eyes, I am sure this could be farther from the truth. More than likely, she doesn’t recognize this in me & that’s fine, because it would be too complicated to explain it to her or to anyone else. Matter of fact, it’s complicated even writing about it to seemingly no one. I don’t know why I do this, regardless.
It won’t be long before I am protecting Lover from his own personal demons, battling them off for him, without his even asking me. No one ever asks me to give a shit; no one ever asks me to carry their heavy & often inconvenient burdens. It is done out of the kindness of my own heart & the pits of my anxiety surrounding our relationship. It sick, but it’s the only way I show that I care, without them really knowing just how much I am willingly sacrificing.
Every time I get like this — low, melancholy, contemplative, deep in memories & filled with tangible sorrow for no other reason than just needing to feel sometimes — I take a shower. (I prefer baths, but unfortunately, we don’t have one in our little apartment. This brings out a terrible longing feeling inside of me, because I miss feel enveloped by water. That floating feeling, the quiet, the bubbles & the candles. There is nothing like a sensual bath.) I heard it said once that when you are feeling blue, it’s sometimes best to take a long, hot shower & allow the water from the shower head to beat onto your scalp, onto your shoulders, onto your face, because it awakens the senses; it reminds you that you are, indeed, alive. You can feel water between your fingers, sliding down your back, wetting the hair behind your neck. It’s the perfect sensation & it requires nothing but running water. Whether it is true or not — that it chases away the blues, I mean — I take showers for this reason. To remind me that I have these feelings trapped inside of me, & that these feeling do not have me.
What I really wish is that I could be someone else for a few days; the kind of someone I wish I already was. Or, better yet, I wish that I could possibly just tweak my personality around so that I can become this kind of someone. Sometimes I feel like I am so positively boring & too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Maybe I am too old-fashioned. More than likely, I am. I also with that I had a bad influence friend, but not necessarily to that extent. I wish that I could make good friends with a girl who has the same emotions as I, but a different thought process. She & I would be polar opposites, & she could teach me how to grab onto life a little more daringly, & I could teach her how to be okay with holding back sometimes. It would be the perfect match, & because she is a girl, I wouldn’t feel as though she is judging me for my impotence.
I wonder if there is anyone who is feeling the same way as I am, right now at this very moment.
- Ev'Yan || apricot tea.
- This was my old diary, which now houses older entries I've done in the past. My new blog can be found here: [http://apricot-tea.com]
may 23, 2008
qui se porte bien (right as rain).
Friday, May 23rd, 2008
It is a dreary day. It has been pouring rain, without ceasing, since yesterday.
I mistakenly went out yesterday afternoon to grocery shop. This was bad idea; not just because I didn’t dress according to the wet weather (I am the only person who will willingly wear gladiator sandals when it’s raining) but because I went out just as the storm was gaining strength. I arrived at the store, which sits about 3 stories up from the ground, & when the lightning struck, it seemed like we (meaning myself & the other shoppers) were millimeters away from being electrocuted. I started to wonder what it might feel like to be shocked by lightning. The thunder followed several seconds after, roaring, echoing, making the whole building feel like it was rumbling & shaking with the growls of the noise. It was awe-some.
The rain began to pour & pour right as I was getting out of my car. It was coming down in torrents & I, in my little sandals, was trying to scramble indoors, while trying to remain completely composed as though the water didn’t really bother me. I get so irritated when I hear people complain & whine about “this wretched rainy weather” & they fear going outdoors without an umbrella as if the sky is raining fire. I saw a lot of this while working in the Salon. Clients didn’t want to muss their perfectly done hair & the reaction is (not to sound sadistic) awfully funny to watch: “My hair! Oh, my hair! Why must it rain today, right as I just got my hair done? This is bullshit!” I would comfort the clients, telling them that “it’s just water” & they would glare at me & mutter something under their breaths. As they braved the Bullshit Rain with a newspaper covering their heads, I would giggle because it really is silly. & it really is only water.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t smart of me to go out yesterday without being properly dressed & by the time I got back to my little apartment, I was soaked. My hair (oh no! Not my hair! Not my beautiful, beautiful hair!), my face, my exposed feet. (I don’t bother to carry an umbrella & if I do, I never use it.) I was a tad grumpy at this, but it didn’t phase me much. This weather may be annoying & depressing to some, but for Lover & I, it is an aphrodisiac, a mood booster & quite smile inducing. Talking to him a bit this morning, I asked him how his day was going so far & he responded: “It’s Friday & the weather is gloomy; I’ve got a big smile on my face.”
Thus, another reason why we don’t belong in sunny Southern California.
Despite this weather, I want to go out in it. I am going to try to make an excuse to go out in it. I love the art of bundling up, layers upon layers & trudging through puddles & sprinkles & cold air. I love the sensation of that first blast of heat in the car. I love feeling it on my toes, especially, with the windows rolled down a little & the rain hitting my face. I love hearing my car splash through potholes & I love watching the expressions of passersby, grimacing & grumbling because they want to go to the beach already.
There is something so pure & calming about the rain, especially in this dirty city. It seems to wash the bad things away: the smoggy air, the pollution, the litter on the streets, the annoying crowds of people shopping & trying to sell you things on the side of the road. Even if those things are still there, the only thing I can focus on is the sensation of the misty air on my skin, the sound of water plunging from the sky & how warm & cozy I am in my peacoat jacket.
Like a security blanket, the rain soothes & relaxes my spirit. Seemingly endless afternoons bring me down, making me feel lonely in this big, crazy world. But when it rains, it reminds me that God is listening to me, for he knows that the rain brightens my dear heart.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. — Langston Hughes
Friday, May 23rd, 2008
It is a dreary day. It has been pouring rain, without ceasing, since yesterday.
I mistakenly went out yesterday afternoon to grocery shop. This was bad idea; not just because I didn’t dress according to the wet weather (I am the only person who will willingly wear gladiator sandals when it’s raining) but because I went out just as the storm was gaining strength. I arrived at the store, which sits about 3 stories up from the ground, & when the lightning struck, it seemed like we (meaning myself & the other shoppers) were millimeters away from being electrocuted. I started to wonder what it might feel like to be shocked by lightning. The thunder followed several seconds after, roaring, echoing, making the whole building feel like it was rumbling & shaking with the growls of the noise. It was awe-some.
The rain began to pour & pour right as I was getting out of my car. It was coming down in torrents & I, in my little sandals, was trying to scramble indoors, while trying to remain completely composed as though the water didn’t really bother me. I get so irritated when I hear people complain & whine about “this wretched rainy weather” & they fear going outdoors without an umbrella as if the sky is raining fire. I saw a lot of this while working in the Salon. Clients didn’t want to muss their perfectly done hair & the reaction is (not to sound sadistic) awfully funny to watch: “My hair! Oh, my hair! Why must it rain today, right as I just got my hair done? This is bullshit!” I would comfort the clients, telling them that “it’s just water” & they would glare at me & mutter something under their breaths. As they braved the Bullshit Rain with a newspaper covering their heads, I would giggle because it really is silly. & it really is only water.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t smart of me to go out yesterday without being properly dressed & by the time I got back to my little apartment, I was soaked. My hair (oh no! Not my hair! Not my beautiful, beautiful hair!), my face, my exposed feet. (I don’t bother to carry an umbrella & if I do, I never use it.) I was a tad grumpy at this, but it didn’t phase me much. This weather may be annoying & depressing to some, but for Lover & I, it is an aphrodisiac, a mood booster & quite smile inducing. Talking to him a bit this morning, I asked him how his day was going so far & he responded: “It’s Friday & the weather is gloomy; I’ve got a big smile on my face.”
Thus, another reason why we don’t belong in sunny Southern California.
Despite this weather, I want to go out in it. I am going to try to make an excuse to go out in it. I love the art of bundling up, layers upon layers & trudging through puddles & sprinkles & cold air. I love the sensation of that first blast of heat in the car. I love feeling it on my toes, especially, with the windows rolled down a little & the rain hitting my face. I love hearing my car splash through potholes & I love watching the expressions of passersby, grimacing & grumbling because they want to go to the beach already.
There is something so pure & calming about the rain, especially in this dirty city. It seems to wash the bad things away: the smoggy air, the pollution, the litter on the streets, the annoying crowds of people shopping & trying to sell you things on the side of the road. Even if those things are still there, the only thing I can focus on is the sensation of the misty air on my skin, the sound of water plunging from the sky & how warm & cozy I am in my peacoat jacket.
Like a security blanket, the rain soothes & relaxes my spirit. Seemingly endless afternoons bring me down, making me feel lonely in this big, crazy world. But when it rains, it reminds me that God is listening to me, for he knows that the rain brightens my dear heart.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. — Langston Hughes
may 15, 2008
tag! I’m it.
Thursday, May 15th, 2008
Miss Traci Anne listed me to do this little survey. I would imagine that if we were playing tag, she would be running after me, cornering me & laying it on me with a “TAG! You’re it!!!” I was never good at Tag. I could never run fast enough & I was always It. But since I never ran fast enough, I could never tag anyone back. I usually ended up forfeiting. My poor little chicken legs couldn’t take the pressure. Thankfully, I think this is something I can manage.
4 Things I did 10 years ago (1998):
1. I was 10, almost a 11. So I was doing a lot of “kid” things.
2. I had a full head of braids & wore geeky glasses.
3. I stilled played with Barbies with my sister.
4. I was still writing in silly little diaries, even though I didn’t have much to say other than “Dear Diary, Hi. It’s Ev’Yan. How are you? I’m not doing very well because Jarani [my sister] won’t play Pocahontas with me. She makes me so mad. Well, I got to go. Ta-Ta for now! See you later, Alligator! Sorry so sloppy! Write back soon!”
4 Things I did 5 years ago (2003)
1. I was 15, almost 16… & I madly in love with my military (ex)boyfriend.
2. Made “love” for the first time.
3. Decided not to go to a regular high school anymore, & switched to homeschooling.
4. Got my belly button pieced. (Which I took out a few years ago.)
4 Things I did yesterday:
1. Made killer spaghetti. I mean, it tasted good. It didn’t try to kill us.
2. Watched a little BET with Lover, while he exclaimed that it’s illegal for him to watch it because he is white.
3. Went to Target; picked up jalapeño flavored pretzels. I loathe spicy food, but for some reason I was craving it.
4. Argued with Lover about some lettuce, telling them that because they had bugs in it & he washed them off doesn’t mean that it’s safe to eat them. He ate them anyway.
4 TV shows I love to watch:
1. The Amazing Race.
2. Tell Me You Love Me.
3. I Love Lucy.
4. Twilight Zone.
4 Things I love to do:
1. get all dressed up, with no where to go.
2. write about nonsense.
3. taking the long way home while driving.
4. play with Sofie Aiko.
I pass the torch to…
kindredly
sharon at road less traveled
metal three sixty
only slightly neurotic
toujours complexe
Thursday, May 15th, 2008
Miss Traci Anne listed me to do this little survey. I would imagine that if we were playing tag, she would be running after me, cornering me & laying it on me with a “TAG! You’re it!!!” I was never good at Tag. I could never run fast enough & I was always It. But since I never ran fast enough, I could never tag anyone back. I usually ended up forfeiting. My poor little chicken legs couldn’t take the pressure. Thankfully, I think this is something I can manage.
4 Things I did 10 years ago (1998):
1. I was 10, almost a 11. So I was doing a lot of “kid” things.
2. I had a full head of braids & wore geeky glasses.
3. I stilled played with Barbies with my sister.
4. I was still writing in silly little diaries, even though I didn’t have much to say other than “Dear Diary, Hi. It’s Ev’Yan. How are you? I’m not doing very well because Jarani [my sister] won’t play Pocahontas with me. She makes me so mad. Well, I got to go. Ta-Ta for now! See you later, Alligator! Sorry so sloppy! Write back soon!”
4 Things I did 5 years ago (2003)
1. I was 15, almost 16… & I madly in love with my military (ex)boyfriend.
2. Made “love” for the first time.
3. Decided not to go to a regular high school anymore, & switched to homeschooling.
4. Got my belly button pieced. (Which I took out a few years ago.)
4 Things I did yesterday:
1. Made killer spaghetti. I mean, it tasted good. It didn’t try to kill us.
2. Watched a little BET with Lover, while he exclaimed that it’s illegal for him to watch it because he is white.
3. Went to Target; picked up jalapeño flavored pretzels. I loathe spicy food, but for some reason I was craving it.
4. Argued with Lover about some lettuce, telling them that because they had bugs in it & he washed them off doesn’t mean that it’s safe to eat them. He ate them anyway.
4 TV shows I love to watch:
1. The Amazing Race.
2. Tell Me You Love Me.
3. I Love Lucy.
4. Twilight Zone.
4 Things I love to do:
1. get all dressed up, with no where to go.
2. write about nonsense.
3. taking the long way home while driving.
4. play with Sofie Aiko.
I pass the torch to…
kindredly
sharon at road less traveled
metal three sixty
only slightly neurotic
toujours complexe
may 12, 2008
my lover’s gone.
Monday, May 12th, 2008
Lover has left for a business-like trip a few towns away from here. He’ll just be gone over night & will return Tuesday evening, but I am already dreading staying here alone, sleeping in that big bed all by myself. I am already missing him. We have never spent a night alone since we’ve lived here, which is days away from being a year, matter of fact. I can tell that these next 2 days will be spent with the television on for comfort & I’ll be texting Lover profusely, bothering him & telling him how much I miss & love him.
As pathetic as this time will be for me, I am going to make it a point to spend some much needed “me” time, thinking about how my life is going, (fear is still popping up now & again, keeping me from doing the things I want) pleasuring myself at the thought of my husband, & maybe… do a little browsing around the city. Unfortunately, there are no good movies playing now — in my opinion — or else I would indulge in a few matinees.
More than likely, a lot of writing will be done here; if only to kill time & abandon my lonely thoughts somewhere.
Monday, May 12th, 2008
Lover has left for a business-like trip a few towns away from here. He’ll just be gone over night & will return Tuesday evening, but I am already dreading staying here alone, sleeping in that big bed all by myself. I am already missing him. We have never spent a night alone since we’ve lived here, which is days away from being a year, matter of fact. I can tell that these next 2 days will be spent with the television on for comfort & I’ll be texting Lover profusely, bothering him & telling him how much I miss & love him.
As pathetic as this time will be for me, I am going to make it a point to spend some much needed “me” time, thinking about how my life is going, (fear is still popping up now & again, keeping me from doing the things I want) pleasuring myself at the thought of my husband, & maybe… do a little browsing around the city. Unfortunately, there are no good movies playing now — in my opinion — or else I would indulge in a few matinees.
More than likely, a lot of writing will be done here; if only to kill time & abandon my lonely thoughts somewhere.
april 7, 2008
I am a diarist. there; I said it.
Monday, April 7th, 2008
I have tried to stay away from that word “diary” because I feel it is so ancient & past its time. Furthermore, no one ever uses that word. I think that is why so many people have strayed from diaryland.com because of the image it creates in your mind. That was certainly my reason for leaving. After so many years of devoting time into expressing myself, I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere & that I wasn’t getting understood. I felt like I was going around in circles; that nothing was changing or evolving inside of me. (Or, that could have just been the consequences of the current relationship I was in, which was provoking me to keep going around in circles; maybe.)
Today, I have experienced a dramatic & deep shift in my thinking in regards to my “blog.” Sincere thanks to chasing twilight who, with genuine words said only to describe her current situation, reminded me of why I call myself a writer. She made me think about this word “blog” & what that means to me, in my life, in my writing, in comparison to the antique & underused word “diary,” the word I have been dying not to say. (I have to agree with her that the reason why the concept of a “blog” is much more appealing to ear is because it is… unisex. How many men would be caught dead saying, “Please read my diary about my life.” It just won’t happen & is borderline unheard of. Blog is much more… serious. More professional.) “Blog” has nothing to do with me. I have always been a diarist; always. I would even consider myself a journalist of sorts. Although… I cannot down that word “blog” completely (& I’m not), because it is used accurately to identify business-like writings & to build community-style relationships that happen to be very successful & very enlightening. I just don’t happen to fit the term “blogger.”
In the midst of reading other’s blogs, in the midst of receiving plenty of heartfelt comments & thousands of page views, as well as meeting incredible new people, I think I have gotten lost in what all of this really means to me, in my life, in my growing experience. I feel as though I have been trying to be something that I am not. Maybe that I am dumbing down my skills of self expression a little to fit the standard of what a writer, a “blogger” in this day & age really is. It’s so old-fashioned, really, for me to expect that people would write in any other way. The world is constantly changing; roles & rules are morphing into things that I am having trouble understanding & I am just twenty years old! I am in the middle of so many different kinds of movements… people are expressing themselves in other ways that seem so foreign to me. Thus, the reason I posted this entry. Is it wrong that I feel more compelled to stay behind while others have their fun changing? (That question goes with other things happening in my life, not just in writing.) I would feel much better being a diarist than a blogger. I would feel much better to be vintage in that way. Someone once compared me to Jane Austen, which was meant to be an insult, but I smiled & said, “wonderful!” because that is what I want to hear. I do find uplifting inspiration in old literature, like Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Great Gatsby & other deep, thought-provoking books. Of course, there are other amazing modern books out there that have given me the same reaction, but they are far & few.
As wonderful as it is to correspond with people who “blog” in a community-like manner, people who are candid & sometimes anonymous in their writings are perceived in my eyes as unique & delicate creatures. There is something intimate & courageous about them. Something unscripted & genuine about a stranger’s attempt to express himself in a deep & genuine way. If a reader feels guilty while paging through the truthfulness of your diary, I think you have have managed to be successful in your honesty. I have always hoped that I could be that kind of writer.
I suppose what I am trying to say — & all of this means more to me than anyone else reading these words right now — is that I just learned a valuable lesson. It is better to stick out like a black sheep comfortably, than to blend in with the crowd, packed & crammed because there are far too many of them. I think that is what I’m trying to say. My perception of what this “blog” is has changed to a more fitting understanding of who I personally am. Not what my readers want, not what my word count is, not how many views I’m getting per day or comments or subscriptions. In turn, this subtle change will provoke me to be a better writer. It’s much more honest this way.
Monday, April 7th, 2008
I have tried to stay away from that word “diary” because I feel it is so ancient & past its time. Furthermore, no one ever uses that word. I think that is why so many people have strayed from diaryland.com because of the image it creates in your mind. That was certainly my reason for leaving. After so many years of devoting time into expressing myself, I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere & that I wasn’t getting understood. I felt like I was going around in circles; that nothing was changing or evolving inside of me. (Or, that could have just been the consequences of the current relationship I was in, which was provoking me to keep going around in circles; maybe.)
Today, I have experienced a dramatic & deep shift in my thinking in regards to my “blog.” Sincere thanks to chasing twilight who, with genuine words said only to describe her current situation, reminded me of why I call myself a writer. She made me think about this word “blog” & what that means to me, in my life, in my writing, in comparison to the antique & underused word “diary,” the word I have been dying not to say. (I have to agree with her that the reason why the concept of a “blog” is much more appealing to ear is because it is… unisex. How many men would be caught dead saying, “Please read my diary about my life.” It just won’t happen & is borderline unheard of. Blog is much more… serious. More professional.) “Blog” has nothing to do with me. I have always been a diarist; always. I would even consider myself a journalist of sorts. Although… I cannot down that word “blog” completely (& I’m not), because it is used accurately to identify business-like writings & to build community-style relationships that happen to be very successful & very enlightening. I just don’t happen to fit the term “blogger.”
In the midst of reading other’s blogs, in the midst of receiving plenty of heartfelt comments & thousands of page views, as well as meeting incredible new people, I think I have gotten lost in what all of this really means to me, in my life, in my growing experience. I feel as though I have been trying to be something that I am not. Maybe that I am dumbing down my skills of self expression a little to fit the standard of what a writer, a “blogger” in this day & age really is. It’s so old-fashioned, really, for me to expect that people would write in any other way. The world is constantly changing; roles & rules are morphing into things that I am having trouble understanding & I am just twenty years old! I am in the middle of so many different kinds of movements… people are expressing themselves in other ways that seem so foreign to me. Thus, the reason I posted this entry. Is it wrong that I feel more compelled to stay behind while others have their fun changing? (That question goes with other things happening in my life, not just in writing.) I would feel much better being a diarist than a blogger. I would feel much better to be vintage in that way. Someone once compared me to Jane Austen, which was meant to be an insult, but I smiled & said, “wonderful!” because that is what I want to hear. I do find uplifting inspiration in old literature, like Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Great Gatsby & other deep, thought-provoking books. Of course, there are other amazing modern books out there that have given me the same reaction, but they are far & few.
As wonderful as it is to correspond with people who “blog” in a community-like manner, people who are candid & sometimes anonymous in their writings are perceived in my eyes as unique & delicate creatures. There is something intimate & courageous about them. Something unscripted & genuine about a stranger’s attempt to express himself in a deep & genuine way. If a reader feels guilty while paging through the truthfulness of your diary, I think you have have managed to be successful in your honesty. I have always hoped that I could be that kind of writer.
I suppose what I am trying to say — & all of this means more to me than anyone else reading these words right now — is that I just learned a valuable lesson. It is better to stick out like a black sheep comfortably, than to blend in with the crowd, packed & crammed because there are far too many of them. I think that is what I’m trying to say. My perception of what this “blog” is has changed to a more fitting understanding of who I personally am. Not what my readers want, not what my word count is, not how many views I’m getting per day or comments or subscriptions. In turn, this subtle change will provoke me to be a better writer. It’s much more honest this way.
april 4, 2008
la dispute.
Friday, April 4th, 2008
This is not going to be a happy-go-lucky, “apricot tea in love” kind of post. I am just as disappointed as you are; I wish life could be like a bowl of cherries, but alas… it isn’t.
I don’t enjoy fighting with Jonathan; it’s not my cup of tea, but today I really don’t care. This coldness is mainly coming from the harsh disappointment of this: for the sake of assuming & jumping to conclusions I am going to announce to myself & whomever is listening that Lover did not get that job. If he would have gotten the job, he would have heard something by this week at least. But… he didn’t & I am the only one who is upset about this. Lover seems to be relieved, which is disheartening & maddening to me. I almost feel silly — no, I do feel silly — for getting so wrapped up in the thoughts of him actually getting the tremendous opportunity. (My gleeful presumptuousness can be found here.) To say that I am disappointed would be only half of what I am feeling. I am kind of mad & feeling a bit let down. Kind of like, “now what?” That sort of thing. Hence, the reason I have picked this unnecessary fight with him. I am not proud of that, by the way. I could say a lot of things right now, but I’m going to hold myself back because they’re truly not fair, in spite of them being right. I am frustrated at this letdown & the fact that Lover seems to not understand just why I am upset. This why I am the practical one in the relationship (in instances like these) & he is whimsical. Sometimes it can be the opposite, especially when it comes to vivid dreams & “what if?” questions. But when it comes to obvious realities, I am the practical one.
The fight was started over something silly; then again I don’t even think Lover realized that we were fighting. We were typing to each other via instant messenger. But I certainly was fighting with him, hitting the keys at a rapid & firm rate, frowning & sighing & getting flustered with every sentence I had to form. I just so happened to mention to him, just for the sake of mentioning, that I was upset about him not getting the job. I didn’t want this to be hanging over our heads without being identified. I figured I should warn him, after all. He suggested that we talk about this; & I said, “no.” Why would I choose to talk about my feelings to him through the internet? While he is at work? When I have already been irritated enough? Maybe it wasn’t a fight, for I wasn’t saying anything I didn’t mean. He asked & I told him my feelings about a friend coming over tonight. I don’t want anyone to come over; that would more confuse this whole day & the feelings I have when it comes to Lover at the moment. I feel as though we should talk about this; inviting a friend over would be stalling this process, making light of the situation. Maybe it’s because I am mad at how nonchalant he is about the fact that he more than likely didn’t get the job. That he would so willingly invite someone over for pizza & a good conversation when a wonderful opportunity for us, for our lives has just slipped through his fingers. Maybe I am upset because he didn’t seem to care about the job really; that I was one who wanted this for us more than he did. Maybe I am upset because he isn’t upset like I am! No sweat off of his back; he’ll solve it with pizza & a good friend. I am not expecting him to read my mind… I am expecting him to handle this in the way it should be handled. & he’s not. So I’m frustrated & I don’t want to talk to him about it. There is no use anyway.
I don’t even know what I am saying right now. I am a muddled mess of emotions. More than likely, I will spend the rest of the day in isolation, trying to figure out these damned thoughts swarming my head, regarding this lost job, Lover’s unwillingness to want it & the fight that I started in my effort to express my feelings. Then I will go to my psychiatrist appointment today to get yet another prescription filled. I hate going to these wretched appointments. It’s a waste of money & my psychiatrist reminds me of a cartoon character. Usually, this would amuse me, but I am no mood to be amused. As for the rest of the evening… it is up in the air.
At the moment, I am holding back from fleeing these feelings. I do this with the best intentions, but end up going to Target… which winds up in me buying things that we really don’t need. My god, have I turned into one of those people? Those impulsive emotional shoppers? No, I should stay home & try to do something with this mess I’ve put myself in. This proves that high expectations & hopes don’t get you anywhere but high… & then comes that horrible fall back to the ground, back to reality. Fuck. I am so annoyed I could spit. I want to scream profanities. I want to punch a wall or something. I want to kick something… hard. Most importantly, I want to be left alone for a little while.
Friday, April 4th, 2008
This is not going to be a happy-go-lucky, “apricot tea in love” kind of post. I am just as disappointed as you are; I wish life could be like a bowl of cherries, but alas… it isn’t.
I don’t enjoy fighting with Jonathan; it’s not my cup of tea, but today I really don’t care. This coldness is mainly coming from the harsh disappointment of this: for the sake of assuming & jumping to conclusions I am going to announce to myself & whomever is listening that Lover did not get that job. If he would have gotten the job, he would have heard something by this week at least. But… he didn’t & I am the only one who is upset about this. Lover seems to be relieved, which is disheartening & maddening to me. I almost feel silly — no, I do feel silly — for getting so wrapped up in the thoughts of him actually getting the tremendous opportunity. (My gleeful presumptuousness can be found here.) To say that I am disappointed would be only half of what I am feeling. I am kind of mad & feeling a bit let down. Kind of like, “now what?” That sort of thing. Hence, the reason I have picked this unnecessary fight with him. I am not proud of that, by the way. I could say a lot of things right now, but I’m going to hold myself back because they’re truly not fair, in spite of them being right. I am frustrated at this letdown & the fact that Lover seems to not understand just why I am upset. This why I am the practical one in the relationship (in instances like these) & he is whimsical. Sometimes it can be the opposite, especially when it comes to vivid dreams & “what if?” questions. But when it comes to obvious realities, I am the practical one.
The fight was started over something silly; then again I don’t even think Lover realized that we were fighting. We were typing to each other via instant messenger. But I certainly was fighting with him, hitting the keys at a rapid & firm rate, frowning & sighing & getting flustered with every sentence I had to form. I just so happened to mention to him, just for the sake of mentioning, that I was upset about him not getting the job. I didn’t want this to be hanging over our heads without being identified. I figured I should warn him, after all. He suggested that we talk about this; & I said, “no.” Why would I choose to talk about my feelings to him through the internet? While he is at work? When I have already been irritated enough? Maybe it wasn’t a fight, for I wasn’t saying anything I didn’t mean. He asked & I told him my feelings about a friend coming over tonight. I don’t want anyone to come over; that would more confuse this whole day & the feelings I have when it comes to Lover at the moment. I feel as though we should talk about this; inviting a friend over would be stalling this process, making light of the situation. Maybe it’s because I am mad at how nonchalant he is about the fact that he more than likely didn’t get the job. That he would so willingly invite someone over for pizza & a good conversation when a wonderful opportunity for us, for our lives has just slipped through his fingers. Maybe I am upset because he didn’t seem to care about the job really; that I was one who wanted this for us more than he did. Maybe I am upset because he isn’t upset like I am! No sweat off of his back; he’ll solve it with pizza & a good friend. I am not expecting him to read my mind… I am expecting him to handle this in the way it should be handled. & he’s not. So I’m frustrated & I don’t want to talk to him about it. There is no use anyway.
I don’t even know what I am saying right now. I am a muddled mess of emotions. More than likely, I will spend the rest of the day in isolation, trying to figure out these damned thoughts swarming my head, regarding this lost job, Lover’s unwillingness to want it & the fight that I started in my effort to express my feelings. Then I will go to my psychiatrist appointment today to get yet another prescription filled. I hate going to these wretched appointments. It’s a waste of money & my psychiatrist reminds me of a cartoon character. Usually, this would amuse me, but I am no mood to be amused. As for the rest of the evening… it is up in the air.
At the moment, I am holding back from fleeing these feelings. I do this with the best intentions, but end up going to Target… which winds up in me buying things that we really don’t need. My god, have I turned into one of those people? Those impulsive emotional shoppers? No, I should stay home & try to do something with this mess I’ve put myself in. This proves that high expectations & hopes don’t get you anywhere but high… & then comes that horrible fall back to the ground, back to reality. Fuck. I am so annoyed I could spit. I want to scream profanities. I want to punch a wall or something. I want to kick something… hard. Most importantly, I want to be left alone for a little while.
april 3, 2008
I know you are but what am I?
Thursday, April 3rd, 2008
Bad, bad day yesterday. It was one of those days where you wish you could just go to bed early just so you can be rid of it. That sort of thing. It wasn’t that bad things were happening to me — although, there were a few “below the belt” happenings that made me want to hate the human race just that much… but I didn’t — but it just seemed like it was a BAD DAY. I was in a bad mood up until rising this morning because of it.
For one, my flowers are now completely dead. I mean, to the point where the pollen is now littered on the desk & the water is now a nasty green color. There is one that seems to hanging on. I think this is why I refuse to throw them out just yet. I hate throwing out once beautiful, vibrant flowers. It’s like a death of an old friend.
& Sofie Aiko was being a pest all day. For some reason, she wouldn’t stop crying to go outside to do her personal potty business. I would take her out, diligently like always, but she refused to go. She didn’t go to the bathroom ALL DAY. I was so irritated & worried; that cannot be normal. If you were there, you would have seen me dressed in pajamas (with no where to go, why dress up for a non-existent occasion?) standing out on the front lawn, muttering curse words underneath my breath & then sighing really loudly, telling Sofie that I was very angry with her. I took her on a walk, thinking that would get the juices flowing (no pun intended) for her, but no… nothing. While I was walking her, I saw a mass of feathers on the sidewalk & pavement. A few steps later, I saw a decapitated pigeon lying in the middle of the street. That was another down of the day. As for Sofie, she finally went potty when Jonathan came home; almost 12 hours of her not going. I was grateful, though, because I was beginning to think that she was suffering from some blockage of some sort.
Also. I got into a verbal, online fisticuffs with a snobby group of kiddies who have a poor taste in literature. I lost the battle, unfortunately, but for good reason. As my husband always says… when someone steals your jacket, offer them your shirt. Probably one of the toughest things I’m learning to understand. & it doesn’t feel good. But I trust Lover; there are many times where he’ll suggest the most seemingly outrageous things for me to do in an act of “killing with kindness” … & in the end, he turns out to be accurate. Damn him, sometimes! He is the reason I try to control my temper. Otherwise, I would just flip the bird & condemn people to Hell. Why must he be so nice & right about things? Sigh. I love him, though, for his sincere heart.
Then… last night me & Lover were faced with the obnoxious & bothersome question “What are we having for dinner?” He decided on pizza from our favorite restaurant & I was reluctant to give any opinion because I really loathe this time of the day. So, off we went to Gelato di Roma (also, I might add, the place that we had our first date a year & a half ago). Now, this place isn’t very easy to get to when you just want to pick up pizza & go back home to enjoy it. You must travel through crowded crosswalks & traffic ridden streets before coming to an overcrowded parking structure. There is NEVER parking on the first or second floors so you have to keep driving until you are almost at the top of the building. Then, after you’ve circled & circled this structure for what seems like forever, you finally find a parking spot. & then comes the seemingly long walk from the parking structure to the restaurant, which is literally at the very end of this old town shopping strip. Such a pain in the ass to get to, but the pizza is most definitely worth it. Quite possibly the best pizza I have ever eaten, ever. It’s in competition with my mother’s homemade pizza, it’s that good.
As were making our way through this stressful maze, Lover was trying to pre-order the pizza on the telephone so we can just walk in & pick it up. We were both surprised that it didn’t even ring & it went straight to one of those previously recorded messages saying that the phone was disconnected. “That’s really strange,” he said… & in spite of my irritation regarding the whole day, I had to agree with him. Nevertheless, we decided to go anyway, thinking maybe they were having trouble with their phone line or something like that. We walked all the way over there to find that the place was… gone. I mean, doors locked, all lights off, tables, chairs & furniture gone. Abandoned. I really felt like yelling out a wail in despair (Noooo! Not our favorite place to eat! Not our significant stomping ground! Not our precious, delicious getalo Heaven! Not our perfect pizza palace! Nooo! Why??) but I didn’t. For some reason, unknown to us, the place is shut down forever. The sign has even been removed. There was no warning about this; we were actually just there a week ago. & now… it’s gone. We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I am terribly sad; probably more saddened than I was by getting e-trambled by e-ballers. I will forever be haunted by their beautiful tasting pizzas & their peanut butter gelato. Sigh. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
We ended up succumbing to Chipotle’s filling burritos, which I wasn’t in the mood for at all, but I was starving.
There were other things that made Wednesday downright shitty: a bug bite on my face, probably one of those varmints I caught the other day; a bad hair day that seems to be lasting for weeks; loss of appetite for some weird reason; this article I’m trying to write with little inspiration about ponytails (I have never had a ponytail, so it’s a bit hard for me to stoop down to that level); so on, so forth. I am so glad today is today & that it is no longer fucking Wednesday. Yes, I am bitter… I hated yesterday. The only thing I was grateful for was the alone time I got with my husband, the laughs we shared together in the last few hours of the day & the hickies I playfully gave him to make him mad.
He is my sunshine. Even when days look like this.
Thursday, April 3rd, 2008
Bad, bad day yesterday. It was one of those days where you wish you could just go to bed early just so you can be rid of it. That sort of thing. It wasn’t that bad things were happening to me — although, there were a few “below the belt” happenings that made me want to hate the human race just that much… but I didn’t — but it just seemed like it was a BAD DAY. I was in a bad mood up until rising this morning because of it.
For one, my flowers are now completely dead. I mean, to the point where the pollen is now littered on the desk & the water is now a nasty green color. There is one that seems to hanging on. I think this is why I refuse to throw them out just yet. I hate throwing out once beautiful, vibrant flowers. It’s like a death of an old friend.
& Sofie Aiko was being a pest all day. For some reason, she wouldn’t stop crying to go outside to do her personal potty business. I would take her out, diligently like always, but she refused to go. She didn’t go to the bathroom ALL DAY. I was so irritated & worried; that cannot be normal. If you were there, you would have seen me dressed in pajamas (with no where to go, why dress up for a non-existent occasion?) standing out on the front lawn, muttering curse words underneath my breath & then sighing really loudly, telling Sofie that I was very angry with her. I took her on a walk, thinking that would get the juices flowing (no pun intended) for her, but no… nothing. While I was walking her, I saw a mass of feathers on the sidewalk & pavement. A few steps later, I saw a decapitated pigeon lying in the middle of the street. That was another down of the day. As for Sofie, she finally went potty when Jonathan came home; almost 12 hours of her not going. I was grateful, though, because I was beginning to think that she was suffering from some blockage of some sort.
Also. I got into a verbal, online fisticuffs with a snobby group of kiddies who have a poor taste in literature. I lost the battle, unfortunately, but for good reason. As my husband always says… when someone steals your jacket, offer them your shirt. Probably one of the toughest things I’m learning to understand. & it doesn’t feel good. But I trust Lover; there are many times where he’ll suggest the most seemingly outrageous things for me to do in an act of “killing with kindness” … & in the end, he turns out to be accurate. Damn him, sometimes! He is the reason I try to control my temper. Otherwise, I would just flip the bird & condemn people to Hell. Why must he be so nice & right about things? Sigh. I love him, though, for his sincere heart.
Then… last night me & Lover were faced with the obnoxious & bothersome question “What are we having for dinner?” He decided on pizza from our favorite restaurant & I was reluctant to give any opinion because I really loathe this time of the day. So, off we went to Gelato di Roma (also, I might add, the place that we had our first date a year & a half ago). Now, this place isn’t very easy to get to when you just want to pick up pizza & go back home to enjoy it. You must travel through crowded crosswalks & traffic ridden streets before coming to an overcrowded parking structure. There is NEVER parking on the first or second floors so you have to keep driving until you are almost at the top of the building. Then, after you’ve circled & circled this structure for what seems like forever, you finally find a parking spot. & then comes the seemingly long walk from the parking structure to the restaurant, which is literally at the very end of this old town shopping strip. Such a pain in the ass to get to, but the pizza is most definitely worth it. Quite possibly the best pizza I have ever eaten, ever. It’s in competition with my mother’s homemade pizza, it’s that good.
As were making our way through this stressful maze, Lover was trying to pre-order the pizza on the telephone so we can just walk in & pick it up. We were both surprised that it didn’t even ring & it went straight to one of those previously recorded messages saying that the phone was disconnected. “That’s really strange,” he said… & in spite of my irritation regarding the whole day, I had to agree with him. Nevertheless, we decided to go anyway, thinking maybe they were having trouble with their phone line or something like that. We walked all the way over there to find that the place was… gone. I mean, doors locked, all lights off, tables, chairs & furniture gone. Abandoned. I really felt like yelling out a wail in despair (Noooo! Not our favorite place to eat! Not our significant stomping ground! Not our precious, delicious getalo Heaven! Not our perfect pizza palace! Nooo! Why??) but I didn’t. For some reason, unknown to us, the place is shut down forever. The sign has even been removed. There was no warning about this; we were actually just there a week ago. & now… it’s gone. We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I am terribly sad; probably more saddened than I was by getting e-trambled by e-ballers. I will forever be haunted by their beautiful tasting pizzas & their peanut butter gelato. Sigh. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
We ended up succumbing to Chipotle’s filling burritos, which I wasn’t in the mood for at all, but I was starving.
There were other things that made Wednesday downright shitty: a bug bite on my face, probably one of those varmints I caught the other day; a bad hair day that seems to be lasting for weeks; loss of appetite for some weird reason; this article I’m trying to write with little inspiration about ponytails (I have never had a ponytail, so it’s a bit hard for me to stoop down to that level); so on, so forth. I am so glad today is today & that it is no longer fucking Wednesday. Yes, I am bitter… I hated yesterday. The only thing I was grateful for was the alone time I got with my husband, the laughs we shared together in the last few hours of the day & the hickies I playfully gave him to make him mad.
He is my sunshine. Even when days look like this.
april 2, 2008
cabin fever.
Wednesday, April 2nd, 2008
By 3 o’clock today I was feeling alone & isolated. I started having horrible thoughts about how I really should be doing something with all this time on my hands, instead of laying around & being boring. The only thing I really have to cling onto is this journal; it helps remind me that I am still alive while Lover isn’t here. When he arrives, I am full of words; out spoken words. I don’t think as much, I just say & kiss & laugh with him. Obviously, I am in need of some actual interaction. It’s no longer a vacation; it’s a smack in the face almost. Shy of me getting a job, I can’t bear the thought of getting rid of my freedom. This is why it doesn’t make any sense, because it is so twisted. I am tired of being here at home, alone & clueless; yet, I do not desire to work at all… but I need something to do. Truthfully, I’m dreading tomorrow, for I know exactly how it will go. That is, if I decide not to do something about it. I haven’t taken the time to actually sit down & think about my purpose for being here, in this sort of predicament. There must be a reason other than sitting here in this quiet apartment. I refuse to believe it’s to walk Sofie more often, or take better care of house. Noble tasks, of course, but they offer little gratitude to me these days. Quite honestly, I think I am suffering from cabin fever.
Lover is preparing for bed, but naturally, I’m not tired. I feel restless all the time. Given the chance to have some solace, I was thinking of writing a list of things I could do with all of this free time on my hands, rather than just moping around. Yes, Lover is heading upstairs to go to sleep. It’s fairly early; only 9:40pm. I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep right now. I’m too agitated. I almost feel — dare I say? — anxious. Stir crazy. Sigh; what have I gotten myself into? I’m beginning to think that I was better off at a dead end job, making money than being here feeling sorry for myself.
The weather is supposed to be rainy tomorrow (I’m very pleased at this) so obviously I’ll be indoors. What could I do with all of this time? I suppose I better cut the bullshit & start looking for jobs. I mean, what could it hurt. & anyway, it would give me something to do. I know that I am much better than just sitting on my ass, waiting for something exciting to happen to me. I did this after a painful breakup & I don’t want to subject myself to that again. It’s torturous & awfully lonely.
Here is my list, so help me:
* look for jobs; apply to at least 3.
* go through the yellow pages; look for jobs.
* start that wretched article for the magazine.
* make a note to my aunt that the interview won’t be finished until next week, unfortunately.
* balance the checkbook.
* research car insurance.
* look for jobs.
* browse college catalog; find potential classes to take.
* meditate on what the hell I am doing here.
That is all I can think of at the moment, & many of those things can be done in less than an hour. I am very open to suggestions. I feel like I am at my wit’s end. Even right now I’m not making any sense! I hope this isn’t the first sign of craziness. Sigh.
Wednesday, April 2nd, 2008
By 3 o’clock today I was feeling alone & isolated. I started having horrible thoughts about how I really should be doing something with all this time on my hands, instead of laying around & being boring. The only thing I really have to cling onto is this journal; it helps remind me that I am still alive while Lover isn’t here. When he arrives, I am full of words; out spoken words. I don’t think as much, I just say & kiss & laugh with him. Obviously, I am in need of some actual interaction. It’s no longer a vacation; it’s a smack in the face almost. Shy of me getting a job, I can’t bear the thought of getting rid of my freedom. This is why it doesn’t make any sense, because it is so twisted. I am tired of being here at home, alone & clueless; yet, I do not desire to work at all… but I need something to do. Truthfully, I’m dreading tomorrow, for I know exactly how it will go. That is, if I decide not to do something about it. I haven’t taken the time to actually sit down & think about my purpose for being here, in this sort of predicament. There must be a reason other than sitting here in this quiet apartment. I refuse to believe it’s to walk Sofie more often, or take better care of house. Noble tasks, of course, but they offer little gratitude to me these days. Quite honestly, I think I am suffering from cabin fever.
Lover is preparing for bed, but naturally, I’m not tired. I feel restless all the time. Given the chance to have some solace, I was thinking of writing a list of things I could do with all of this free time on my hands, rather than just moping around. Yes, Lover is heading upstairs to go to sleep. It’s fairly early; only 9:40pm. I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep right now. I’m too agitated. I almost feel — dare I say? — anxious. Stir crazy. Sigh; what have I gotten myself into? I’m beginning to think that I was better off at a dead end job, making money than being here feeling sorry for myself.
The weather is supposed to be rainy tomorrow (I’m very pleased at this) so obviously I’ll be indoors. What could I do with all of this time? I suppose I better cut the bullshit & start looking for jobs. I mean, what could it hurt. & anyway, it would give me something to do. I know that I am much better than just sitting on my ass, waiting for something exciting to happen to me. I did this after a painful breakup & I don’t want to subject myself to that again. It’s torturous & awfully lonely.
Here is my list, so help me:
* look for jobs; apply to at least 3.
* go through the yellow pages; look for jobs.
* start that wretched article for the magazine.
* make a note to my aunt that the interview won’t be finished until next week, unfortunately.
* balance the checkbook.
* research car insurance.
* look for jobs.
* browse college catalog; find potential classes to take.
* meditate on what the hell I am doing here.
That is all I can think of at the moment, & many of those things can be done in less than an hour. I am very open to suggestions. I feel like I am at my wit’s end. Even right now I’m not making any sense! I hope this isn’t the first sign of craziness. Sigh.
april 1, 2008
happy april.
Tuesday, April 1st, 2008
Being that today is the first of April, I was expecting that it was going to be quiet as it always is; I’ve never been the target of any pranks & I’ve never been one to religiously prank people each April 1st. But… I think someone has been messing with my template for my blog because the complete right side of it is missing! If this is the idea of a sick joke I am not laughing. I am trying not to get too mad before I figure out what the trouble could be. I am currently waiting for Lover to get online so he can help me with it (he is my illegitimate technical support) but if something doesn’t give within a few hours, I may end up crying something terrible.
So far I’ve played two pranks. The first one I completed 45 minutes ago. I had a dreaded doctor’s appointment today for a female check up (I loathe pap smears). It was supposed to be at 10:15 this morning & it is 11 now. So I’m certain they were wondering where I could have been. Well… April Fools, Planned Parenthood! This wasn’t intentionally a prank; I just didn’t really want to go. I was complaining about it all night last night to Lover. There is nothing I hate more than being in a crowded clinic (we don’t have health insurance) for 2 hours & then being called in right when I am just about to blow up because my appointment was 2 hours ago, & then… some strange lady is poking & prodding inside of my most sacred area in an unfriendly “one down, 40 to go” kind of manner. Again… I loathe pap smears. But upon realizing that today is the first of April, I thought this “prank” would be justified & well… if not, it’ll just have to do. I also posted a random bulletin on Myspace saying that I was pregnant, which is not true at all, but I’ve been getting a lot of inquisitions lately about when Jonathan & I will start a family. & frankly, I am tired of people asking! Just because we got married doesn’t mean that I turn into a baby making machine. I am revolting against being a baby making machine. Not until I am much older, at least. Again, this is hardly a joke… but it’s something, which is better than nothing. Chances are, no one will see my measly little joke anyway, because it seems as though the steam that has been keeping Myspace alive & kicking is dwindling. I hardly ever use it myself… except for the occasional stalking cravings I get, but that is another story, entirely.
I must tell of this one joke I played on my sister, who cannot forget it for the life of her; I traumatized her something terrible! I made breakfast one morning for the both of us, which I think was eggs & bacon. We were young; I may have been about 10 or 11, she about 8 or 9. I was being extra-specially nice to her on this day because at the time, she was very oblivious to the whole April Fool’s Day jokes. I began to make her scrabbled eggs & while she wasn’t looking, I put some green dye inside of the bowl as well as a few tablespoons of salt. It was a green, salty mess & it smelled horrible! I cooked them & gave them to my sister on a plate. She looked at me as though she was going to cry; she said, “Why are they that color?” & I acted as though she was colorblind. I said, “They’re the usual color. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She was trying to convince me that the eggs were green & I kept insisting that there was something wrong with her eyes because they were yellow to me. Even my mother got in on the joke & told my sister that maybe we should take her to the doctor because she’s seeing things. We argued about the color of the eggs for a good 10 minutes; she wouldn’t even go near them. I finally convinced her to take a bite of the eggs so that she would know that the eggs will at least taste fine. She then put the bright green eggs onto her fork & shoved them inside of her mouth. She gagged & spit them out & started to cry. I was laughing but instantly felt horrible for putting my sister through that torture. I’m sure it must have tasted awful. I explained the whole thing to her & even though it wasn’t that great of a joke, she’ll never forget it because I still bring it up.
Nevertheless, I love her very much.
edit; I fixed my sidebar all by myself with no help of Lover’s. Bravo. :]
Tuesday, April 1st, 2008
Being that today is the first of April, I was expecting that it was going to be quiet as it always is; I’ve never been the target of any pranks & I’ve never been one to religiously prank people each April 1st. But… I think someone has been messing with my template for my blog because the complete right side of it is missing! If this is the idea of a sick joke I am not laughing. I am trying not to get too mad before I figure out what the trouble could be. I am currently waiting for Lover to get online so he can help me with it (he is my illegitimate technical support) but if something doesn’t give within a few hours, I may end up crying something terrible.
So far I’ve played two pranks. The first one I completed 45 minutes ago. I had a dreaded doctor’s appointment today for a female check up (I loathe pap smears). It was supposed to be at 10:15 this morning & it is 11 now. So I’m certain they were wondering where I could have been. Well… April Fools, Planned Parenthood! This wasn’t intentionally a prank; I just didn’t really want to go. I was complaining about it all night last night to Lover. There is nothing I hate more than being in a crowded clinic (we don’t have health insurance) for 2 hours & then being called in right when I am just about to blow up because my appointment was 2 hours ago, & then… some strange lady is poking & prodding inside of my most sacred area in an unfriendly “one down, 40 to go” kind of manner. Again… I loathe pap smears. But upon realizing that today is the first of April, I thought this “prank” would be justified & well… if not, it’ll just have to do. I also posted a random bulletin on Myspace saying that I was pregnant, which is not true at all, but I’ve been getting a lot of inquisitions lately about when Jonathan & I will start a family. & frankly, I am tired of people asking! Just because we got married doesn’t mean that I turn into a baby making machine. I am revolting against being a baby making machine. Not until I am much older, at least. Again, this is hardly a joke… but it’s something, which is better than nothing. Chances are, no one will see my measly little joke anyway, because it seems as though the steam that has been keeping Myspace alive & kicking is dwindling. I hardly ever use it myself… except for the occasional stalking cravings I get, but that is another story, entirely.
I must tell of this one joke I played on my sister, who cannot forget it for the life of her; I traumatized her something terrible! I made breakfast one morning for the both of us, which I think was eggs & bacon. We were young; I may have been about 10 or 11, she about 8 or 9. I was being extra-specially nice to her on this day because at the time, she was very oblivious to the whole April Fool’s Day jokes. I began to make her scrabbled eggs & while she wasn’t looking, I put some green dye inside of the bowl as well as a few tablespoons of salt. It was a green, salty mess & it smelled horrible! I cooked them & gave them to my sister on a plate. She looked at me as though she was going to cry; she said, “Why are they that color?” & I acted as though she was colorblind. I said, “They’re the usual color. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She was trying to convince me that the eggs were green & I kept insisting that there was something wrong with her eyes because they were yellow to me. Even my mother got in on the joke & told my sister that maybe we should take her to the doctor because she’s seeing things. We argued about the color of the eggs for a good 10 minutes; she wouldn’t even go near them. I finally convinced her to take a bite of the eggs so that she would know that the eggs will at least taste fine. She then put the bright green eggs onto her fork & shoved them inside of her mouth. She gagged & spit them out & started to cry. I was laughing but instantly felt horrible for putting my sister through that torture. I’m sure it must have tasted awful. I explained the whole thing to her & even though it wasn’t that great of a joke, she’ll never forget it because I still bring it up.
Nevertheless, I love her very much.
edit; I fixed my sidebar all by myself with no help of Lover’s. Bravo. :]
april 6, 2008
childhood memories are haunting me.
Sunday, April 6th, 2008
I am trying to hold myself back from writing so often. I don’t want to seem desperate, by any means. But… I can’t help it right now, for Lover is tunnel-visioned to the television & I have no alternative to do anything else. This is one of the major downfalls of having our studio apartment. It fits us (Lover, Sofie & myself) just perfectly, but any more than that & it can feel a little… crowded. There are really no places to sit, simply because the only places are our super comfortable couch (only seats 3) & this rickety dining chair that we’re using as a computer chair (Lover found it when we were really hard up for furniture. People were throwing out perfectly good furniture & we managed to obtain this horrible chair & this broken down coffee table, which we got rid of long ago. I hate the chair but… it’s a chair & I can sit in it, so that is all that matters). Another downfall to our tiny apartment is that the only room where there is a door to close is the bathroom. Otherwise, we are completely out in the open all the time. When there’s no need to want to have some privacy away from the blaring television or Lover’s computer games, this suits us just fine. But when there IS a need for privacy, we’re simply out of luck. I think that between the 2 of us, I am the one that craves privacy most. Lover is content with being right next to me, every second of every day, cuddling, kissing & holding each other. I adore affection from him, of course, but I will be the first one to try to go off on my own somehow & have a little thinking time. Even now, in the midst of the television being right next to the computer, I am clad iPod headphones blasting itunes, which is drowning out the sounds of battle cries from The Lord of the Rings perfectly. My sometimes isolation isn’t something new; even when I lived with my parents & had my own bedroom, that wasn’t enough seclusion for me, so I would often go for long drives around my little town. There is only a small part of me that misses my hometown. The rest of me is content with making & having a life here with Lover.
It’s not that my town was horrible, but it definitely wasn’t the pick of the bunch. There wasn’t anything to do, really, unless you really wanted to go miniature golfing (yawn) or… you could go to the bowling alley to bowl with the senior citizens & serious bowling champions (yawn). That was about it for assembled activities. Our mall — the size of a few Macy’s put together — didn’t count. Needless to say, I was always bored when I was growing up. Well… actually, when I hit 13 I was terribly bored of my town, but every age before that I was content with rolling around in dirt with my sister & making believe that we were racing our horses [bikes] against each other. That’s why being an adult is sometimes so annoying. I know that if I were 10, I would find all kinds of things to do with my time. You would never hear “I’m bored” escape my mouth because there are adventures to be had, & treasure to be found, & dollies to play with. My dearest companion & partner in crime was (& still is) my sister.
I remember there was this one time where we, my sister & I, were digging a hole in our backyard (we lived on a 1/2 acre, which being the age I am now doesn’t seem so big, but when you’re 7, 8 or 9, that is HUGE!). I don’t know why we were so fascinated with digging holes & we would often get into trouble by my dad because he hated us digging these atrocious holes in his immaculately clean backyard. We did it anyway. So once, we began to dig this hole & it was terribly hot outside. In the desert, it would easily get up to 115 degrees Fahrenheit in the summertime & we never had a pool, so we often had to improvise. So, I came up with this brilliant idea: dig the hole so that it is really, really, really deep & fill it with water & we’ll have our very own swimming pool! Jarani (my sister) was always eager at any idea I came up with, partially because I was the oldest & because we usually had the same kind of thoughts & creativity. So… we started digging in the dirt. It took us a few hours, but we finally managed to dig this hole to about 6 feet deep. It was amazing! & for a few twiggy, knobby-kneed girls, we didn’t do so bad! Then came the water. We brought the hose up to the hole & began to fill it. Instantly, the water turned this murky brown color. There were sticks & rocks & bugs in the water but we didn’t care.
Now… where my mother was in all of this I don’t know. Probably inside cooking some scrumptious dinner. My mom usually let me & my sister roam free in our backyard, without much questions asked, because we often reminded her of the adventures that she & her twin-sibling would get into when they were our age. She never minded the mud-pies & the sand castles & the dandelion weeds we would pick for her. She wouldn’t mind us coming inside after a long day of playing & climbing trees, our hair filled with dirt & our clothes stained with grass. She was such a good sport.
As the water was filling, I had Jarani (or maybe it was me, I don’t remember) go inside & ask our mother’s permission if we could please swim in our pool. She explained what we had done & my mom was fascinated & gave us the go. So, we put on our grubbiest clothes (we weren’t going to muck around in this dirty water in our bathing suits! We were brave adventurers but we were still girls, after all!) & stepped inside. The water was surprisingly warm; the earth had absorbed all the heat from the summer sun, making the water naturally comfortable to sit in. We didn’t go underneath the nasty water (our mom told us not to; even if she did, I don’t think we would have) but we just sat in our hole, basking in the glory of our ingenuity & talking about how amazing it was to be in this swimming pool. We spent about an hour in that thing… & as it grew dark, we had to leave it behind. We were filthy, by the way. We ended up throwing our clothes away because they got so muddy & stained. The next day, the water was still inside of the hole, but creepy little bugs found our swimming pool to be neat, too, & we hated the idea of sharing our space with spiders & ants & moths. So, we let the earth take the water (which took a few weeks), but kept the hole around in case we wanted to swim again.
A month later, my father bought us a wooden shed so that we could have our own playhouse. It was huge & custom built. People actually came to our house & built it from scratch. I think that maybe my dad started to realize how hard-up me & my sister were in having some fun so he let us indulge in this awesome house. He let us do whatever we wanted with it. It became our sanctuary. We made our own curtains using an old white sheet my mom gave us. We put our bean bags in there & our sleeping bags & my dad gave us a rug so that we wouldn’t be sitting on the hardwood floor. It was our little house. Even in the exhausting sun, we would lock ourself up in it, playing all day, listening to music. We grew completely attached to that shed, which is now a graveyard of boxes, memories, dolls & toys from our childhood. It’s so cluttered that we can barely enter without stepping on something. It’s a bit sad. It’s a constant reminder to me of what was lost in the middle of our growing up & becoming little ladies.
Those memories are so alive in my mind. Actually, they were once in a lifetime activities. Because Lord knows you will not find me sitting in a deep, dark hole, filled with ucky water & using it as a swimming pool. Not now, not ever again. I mean, that would just be unheard of!
But back then, it was perfect.
& now I’m back to missing my family.
Sunday, April 6th, 2008
I am trying to hold myself back from writing so often. I don’t want to seem desperate, by any means. But… I can’t help it right now, for Lover is tunnel-visioned to the television & I have no alternative to do anything else. This is one of the major downfalls of having our studio apartment. It fits us (Lover, Sofie & myself) just perfectly, but any more than that & it can feel a little… crowded. There are really no places to sit, simply because the only places are our super comfortable couch (only seats 3) & this rickety dining chair that we’re using as a computer chair (Lover found it when we were really hard up for furniture. People were throwing out perfectly good furniture & we managed to obtain this horrible chair & this broken down coffee table, which we got rid of long ago. I hate the chair but… it’s a chair & I can sit in it, so that is all that matters). Another downfall to our tiny apartment is that the only room where there is a door to close is the bathroom. Otherwise, we are completely out in the open all the time. When there’s no need to want to have some privacy away from the blaring television or Lover’s computer games, this suits us just fine. But when there IS a need for privacy, we’re simply out of luck. I think that between the 2 of us, I am the one that craves privacy most. Lover is content with being right next to me, every second of every day, cuddling, kissing & holding each other. I adore affection from him, of course, but I will be the first one to try to go off on my own somehow & have a little thinking time. Even now, in the midst of the television being right next to the computer, I am clad iPod headphones blasting itunes, which is drowning out the sounds of battle cries from The Lord of the Rings perfectly. My sometimes isolation isn’t something new; even when I lived with my parents & had my own bedroom, that wasn’t enough seclusion for me, so I would often go for long drives around my little town. There is only a small part of me that misses my hometown. The rest of me is content with making & having a life here with Lover.
It’s not that my town was horrible, but it definitely wasn’t the pick of the bunch. There wasn’t anything to do, really, unless you really wanted to go miniature golfing (yawn) or… you could go to the bowling alley to bowl with the senior citizens & serious bowling champions (yawn). That was about it for assembled activities. Our mall — the size of a few Macy’s put together — didn’t count. Needless to say, I was always bored when I was growing up. Well… actually, when I hit 13 I was terribly bored of my town, but every age before that I was content with rolling around in dirt with my sister & making believe that we were racing our horses [bikes] against each other. That’s why being an adult is sometimes so annoying. I know that if I were 10, I would find all kinds of things to do with my time. You would never hear “I’m bored” escape my mouth because there are adventures to be had, & treasure to be found, & dollies to play with. My dearest companion & partner in crime was (& still is) my sister.
I remember there was this one time where we, my sister & I, were digging a hole in our backyard (we lived on a 1/2 acre, which being the age I am now doesn’t seem so big, but when you’re 7, 8 or 9, that is HUGE!). I don’t know why we were so fascinated with digging holes & we would often get into trouble by my dad because he hated us digging these atrocious holes in his immaculately clean backyard. We did it anyway. So once, we began to dig this hole & it was terribly hot outside. In the desert, it would easily get up to 115 degrees Fahrenheit in the summertime & we never had a pool, so we often had to improvise. So, I came up with this brilliant idea: dig the hole so that it is really, really, really deep & fill it with water & we’ll have our very own swimming pool! Jarani (my sister) was always eager at any idea I came up with, partially because I was the oldest & because we usually had the same kind of thoughts & creativity. So… we started digging in the dirt. It took us a few hours, but we finally managed to dig this hole to about 6 feet deep. It was amazing! & for a few twiggy, knobby-kneed girls, we didn’t do so bad! Then came the water. We brought the hose up to the hole & began to fill it. Instantly, the water turned this murky brown color. There were sticks & rocks & bugs in the water but we didn’t care.
Now… where my mother was in all of this I don’t know. Probably inside cooking some scrumptious dinner. My mom usually let me & my sister roam free in our backyard, without much questions asked, because we often reminded her of the adventures that she & her twin-sibling would get into when they were our age. She never minded the mud-pies & the sand castles & the dandelion weeds we would pick for her. She wouldn’t mind us coming inside after a long day of playing & climbing trees, our hair filled with dirt & our clothes stained with grass. She was such a good sport.
As the water was filling, I had Jarani (or maybe it was me, I don’t remember) go inside & ask our mother’s permission if we could please swim in our pool. She explained what we had done & my mom was fascinated & gave us the go. So, we put on our grubbiest clothes (we weren’t going to muck around in this dirty water in our bathing suits! We were brave adventurers but we were still girls, after all!) & stepped inside. The water was surprisingly warm; the earth had absorbed all the heat from the summer sun, making the water naturally comfortable to sit in. We didn’t go underneath the nasty water (our mom told us not to; even if she did, I don’t think we would have) but we just sat in our hole, basking in the glory of our ingenuity & talking about how amazing it was to be in this swimming pool. We spent about an hour in that thing… & as it grew dark, we had to leave it behind. We were filthy, by the way. We ended up throwing our clothes away because they got so muddy & stained. The next day, the water was still inside of the hole, but creepy little bugs found our swimming pool to be neat, too, & we hated the idea of sharing our space with spiders & ants & moths. So, we let the earth take the water (which took a few weeks), but kept the hole around in case we wanted to swim again.
A month later, my father bought us a wooden shed so that we could have our own playhouse. It was huge & custom built. People actually came to our house & built it from scratch. I think that maybe my dad started to realize how hard-up me & my sister were in having some fun so he let us indulge in this awesome house. He let us do whatever we wanted with it. It became our sanctuary. We made our own curtains using an old white sheet my mom gave us. We put our bean bags in there & our sleeping bags & my dad gave us a rug so that we wouldn’t be sitting on the hardwood floor. It was our little house. Even in the exhausting sun, we would lock ourself up in it, playing all day, listening to music. We grew completely attached to that shed, which is now a graveyard of boxes, memories, dolls & toys from our childhood. It’s so cluttered that we can barely enter without stepping on something. It’s a bit sad. It’s a constant reminder to me of what was lost in the middle of our growing up & becoming little ladies.
Those memories are so alive in my mind. Actually, they were once in a lifetime activities. Because Lord knows you will not find me sitting in a deep, dark hole, filled with ucky water & using it as a swimming pool. Not now, not ever again. I mean, that would just be unheard of!
But back then, it was perfect.
& now I’m back to missing my family.
april 5, 2008
I can still smile when I’m mad.
Saturday, April 5th, 2008
Just to prove to myself that this day didn’t completely go to shit, here is a list of the good & sometimes shocking moments of my day:
* It was a perfect day outdoors; just the temperature for me to wear my striped sweater.
* I took Sofie for a walk & halfway through, I was stopped by a car on the road. The passengers in the back seat rolled their windows down & right when I was expecting some obscene or rude remark, a boy (or maybe it was a girl) yelled: “Excuse me… excuse me… were you on Top Model??” [America's Next Top Model, he/she meant.] I laughed & said, “No… I was not. But thank you.” & everyone in the car — there were at least 5 passengers — exclaimed “Ooooh, wow!” in unison. I’m guessing they were disappointed or shocked or something. I continued laughing as they made a u-turn to go the opposite direction. Had they had changed their destination, or did they come my way on purpose, only to strike up a conversation with me? Hmm.
* I have finally had a good hair day! It seems like it has been ions since the last one & I was flaunting my good hair all day around my apartment, around my neighborhood, walking to my mailbox, taking out the trash, etc.
* I went to my [wretched] doctor’s appointment & managed to only be 10 minutes late, despite navigating side streets on my own for the first time. Traffic was terrible! The visit with my Doctor went well, but that was to be expected. We really had nothing to talk about so we talked about Jonathan instead. He had asked; I suppose he was curious. So, I started bragging about him, telling him what Lover does, with this huge goofy grin on my face. I was trying to suppress my giddiness, but it was impossible. All the while, he just nodded, listening & saying “Ahhh” from time to time. He was impressed, I think. Upon bragging about him, it made me miss Lover a bit, in spite of our tiff this morning. (Which reminds me… I haven’t seen him all day & it is nearing 9pm.)
* Lover went to his friends house after work today, which worked perfectly for me. I drove to Target & refrained just enough that I only bought what we really needed. (Bravo, Ev’Yan. Bravo.) I did splurge & bought a Milky Way for myself & decided to butter Lover up with some peanut butter flavored Dibs. While driving to Target, I passed by California Pizza Kitchen & decided that I was going to have one of their pizzas for dinner. So I bought a CPK frozen pizza at Target & scored the last package of bottled root beer in the whole store. I was beaming by then.
* Checking out at Target, a girl approached me & said, “Excuse me Miss, but are you that girl that played on Friday?” Little question marks were probably obviously seen forming on the top of my head. I’ve never seen this movie. Was this a compliment or an insult? & man… I’m sure getting this a lot today! I laughed, flattered & told her that no, I was not & I have never seen the movie. Again, this person seemed disappointed because she let out a huge sigh while exclaiming “Mannn.” I asked the checker if he knew what she was talking about & he said he didn’t. So I moseyed on home with my groceries, a little hitch in my step, happy that I was complimented & happy that I had my dark chocolate Milky Way home.
* I came home & enjoyed a quiet dinner alone, dining on my pizza while sipping my root beer.
Lover just notified me that he’ll be arriving soon. I have to admit… I’m a little bummed. Because now this means we’ll have to talk & I don’t feel like talking about anything. I want this day to finish in a good way. No hard feelings to Lover, of course.
Saturday, April 5th, 2008
Just to prove to myself that this day didn’t completely go to shit, here is a list of the good & sometimes shocking moments of my day:
* It was a perfect day outdoors; just the temperature for me to wear my striped sweater.
* I took Sofie for a walk & halfway through, I was stopped by a car on the road. The passengers in the back seat rolled their windows down & right when I was expecting some obscene or rude remark, a boy (or maybe it was a girl) yelled: “Excuse me… excuse me… were you on Top Model??” [America's Next Top Model, he/she meant.] I laughed & said, “No… I was not. But thank you.” & everyone in the car — there were at least 5 passengers — exclaimed “Ooooh, wow!” in unison. I’m guessing they were disappointed or shocked or something. I continued laughing as they made a u-turn to go the opposite direction. Had they had changed their destination, or did they come my way on purpose, only to strike up a conversation with me? Hmm.
* I have finally had a good hair day! It seems like it has been ions since the last one & I was flaunting my good hair all day around my apartment, around my neighborhood, walking to my mailbox, taking out the trash, etc.
* I went to my [wretched] doctor’s appointment & managed to only be 10 minutes late, despite navigating side streets on my own for the first time. Traffic was terrible! The visit with my Doctor went well, but that was to be expected. We really had nothing to talk about so we talked about Jonathan instead. He had asked; I suppose he was curious. So, I started bragging about him, telling him what Lover does, with this huge goofy grin on my face. I was trying to suppress my giddiness, but it was impossible. All the while, he just nodded, listening & saying “Ahhh” from time to time. He was impressed, I think. Upon bragging about him, it made me miss Lover a bit, in spite of our tiff this morning. (Which reminds me… I haven’t seen him all day & it is nearing 9pm.)
* Lover went to his friends house after work today, which worked perfectly for me. I drove to Target & refrained just enough that I only bought what we really needed. (Bravo, Ev’Yan. Bravo.) I did splurge & bought a Milky Way for myself & decided to butter Lover up with some peanut butter flavored Dibs. While driving to Target, I passed by California Pizza Kitchen & decided that I was going to have one of their pizzas for dinner. So I bought a CPK frozen pizza at Target & scored the last package of bottled root beer in the whole store. I was beaming by then.
* Checking out at Target, a girl approached me & said, “Excuse me Miss, but are you that girl that played on Friday?” Little question marks were probably obviously seen forming on the top of my head. I’ve never seen this movie. Was this a compliment or an insult? & man… I’m sure getting this a lot today! I laughed, flattered & told her that no, I was not & I have never seen the movie. Again, this person seemed disappointed because she let out a huge sigh while exclaiming “Mannn.” I asked the checker if he knew what she was talking about & he said he didn’t. So I moseyed on home with my groceries, a little hitch in my step, happy that I was complimented & happy that I had my dark chocolate Milky Way home.
* I came home & enjoyed a quiet dinner alone, dining on my pizza while sipping my root beer.
Lover just notified me that he’ll be arriving soon. I have to admit… I’m a little bummed. Because now this means we’ll have to talk & I don’t feel like talking about anything. I want this day to finish in a good way. No hard feelings to Lover, of course.
march 7, 2008
let go, let go.
Friday, March 7th, 2008
I’m not ready for sleep, although Lover seems to be a few minutes away from slumber. Actually, he is now snoring. How he is able to sleep so suddenly I would truly like to know.
I have been battling the most awful writer’s block; I can’t seem to think of anything to say. No, that’s not it. I don’t have a muse at the moment. I refuse to spend my time writing about things that have no purpose in my life — no real purpose, I mean. I don’t want to write endlessly about the he said, she said at my job, which seems to be the only inspiration I have for my emotions lately. Or the only thing I’m making an inspiration, rather. I realize that I need to find something to do with all of that… but not here. I don’t like doing it here. I do try the best I can to settle it within itself. I want to create nothing but beautiful stories here. Whether they are sad, blissful, filled with confusion, it’s all beautiful to me. What’s not beautiful is whining. I hate the way I sound when I whine. Complaining is one thing, but whining is just unacceptable. Although, I must say that the tension & stress of my last days at my job (last day is tomorrow, matter of fact) was making me feel like the world was getting smaller & smaller, & I was shrinking but yet about to explode. I suppose only I could understand that analogy, but nevertheless, I was quite happy when the clock read ‘3:00′ & I hurried to my car, grateful to be out of that container. Coincidentally, one of my co-workers must have noticed my obvious discontentment, for while I was mournfully staring out the window, people watching, he exclaimed, “Don’t worry… you’ll be out soon” as if I were a caged bird. That’s when it hit me… I feel like I am in a caged bird. Not necessarily just in the work sense, but in this whole life completely. The other day, I got terribly mad at myself — no, not mad; ashamed — because I masturbated to porn. As if there is this image I must uphold. Not even to the world, but to myself. & I realized then that all of my unhappiness, all of my constrictions come from me. I do this. I am the Oppressor. Because I am certain that I will not get stoned or receive 90 lashes for watching porn & pleasuring myself to it. I see this now, but in that moment, I felt ridiculous & foolish & dirty. Even as I type this, I am squirming in my seat a little, recalling how awkward it felt to be in my skin at that time.
Nobody understands this better than I do, but I feel like all of my life I have been performing. Giving people an idea of who I was just because it was easier to do that sometimes than to just be myself. There have been quite a few times where I have, without even thinking, let myself go for just that one moment. To the point where I am not thinking about anything, I am just being. I am just living. What a startling experience this is for someone like me. To go against everything I have “worked for” seems foreign. Hearing myself speak about this makes me feel like I am a horrible person. Like Hitler, or something. As though i have created a concentration camp for myself. I suppose I need to finish reading The Voice of Knowledge by Don Miguel Ruiz. He speaks about this in his book…
I wonder if I am the only person that does this… to themselves. I mean, of course people do this, but to this extent. Why is it that I choose to befriend people so easily, to love them & accept them for who they are, even to put up with their bullshit, but when it comes time for me to show myself love & understanding, I can’t? I give everyone the benefit of the doubt but myself. I am far too kind for my own good, I guess. That never hurt anyone, but I somehow need to reverse this kind of thinking. Kill myself with kindness. I try to do that as much as possible, even in the simplest of gestures. For instance: going shopping, taking a hot shower, relinquishing my thinking for a little while & just doing whatever I feel like doing. These are wonderful ways… but I’m sure there are better, deeper means of how to let go.
Lover is now snoring so loudly that my heart just skipped a beat. How could one tolerate that sound & yet be able to sleep so comfortably? It would scare the dickens out of me to hear myself snore like that. I would never get to sleep. That would be miserable; imagine someone not being able to sleep because he’s an avid snorer & every time he drifts off, he wakes himself up. Wretched.
I will take this chance to use my blessing of not being a snorer & get some sleep. All the while hoping that I will not be kept awake tonight; by my own thoughts about Ev’Yan Hitler… &/or Jonathan’s snoring.
Friday, March 7th, 2008
I’m not ready for sleep, although Lover seems to be a few minutes away from slumber. Actually, he is now snoring. How he is able to sleep so suddenly I would truly like to know.
I have been battling the most awful writer’s block; I can’t seem to think of anything to say. No, that’s not it. I don’t have a muse at the moment. I refuse to spend my time writing about things that have no purpose in my life — no real purpose, I mean. I don’t want to write endlessly about the he said, she said at my job, which seems to be the only inspiration I have for my emotions lately. Or the only thing I’m making an inspiration, rather. I realize that I need to find something to do with all of that… but not here. I don’t like doing it here. I do try the best I can to settle it within itself. I want to create nothing but beautiful stories here. Whether they are sad, blissful, filled with confusion, it’s all beautiful to me. What’s not beautiful is whining. I hate the way I sound when I whine. Complaining is one thing, but whining is just unacceptable. Although, I must say that the tension & stress of my last days at my job (last day is tomorrow, matter of fact) was making me feel like the world was getting smaller & smaller, & I was shrinking but yet about to explode. I suppose only I could understand that analogy, but nevertheless, I was quite happy when the clock read ‘3:00′ & I hurried to my car, grateful to be out of that container. Coincidentally, one of my co-workers must have noticed my obvious discontentment, for while I was mournfully staring out the window, people watching, he exclaimed, “Don’t worry… you’ll be out soon” as if I were a caged bird. That’s when it hit me… I feel like I am in a caged bird. Not necessarily just in the work sense, but in this whole life completely. The other day, I got terribly mad at myself — no, not mad; ashamed — because I masturbated to porn. As if there is this image I must uphold. Not even to the world, but to myself. & I realized then that all of my unhappiness, all of my constrictions come from me. I do this. I am the Oppressor. Because I am certain that I will not get stoned or receive 90 lashes for watching porn & pleasuring myself to it. I see this now, but in that moment, I felt ridiculous & foolish & dirty. Even as I type this, I am squirming in my seat a little, recalling how awkward it felt to be in my skin at that time.
Nobody understands this better than I do, but I feel like all of my life I have been performing. Giving people an idea of who I was just because it was easier to do that sometimes than to just be myself. There have been quite a few times where I have, without even thinking, let myself go for just that one moment. To the point where I am not thinking about anything, I am just being. I am just living. What a startling experience this is for someone like me. To go against everything I have “worked for” seems foreign. Hearing myself speak about this makes me feel like I am a horrible person. Like Hitler, or something. As though i have created a concentration camp for myself. I suppose I need to finish reading The Voice of Knowledge by Don Miguel Ruiz. He speaks about this in his book…
I wonder if I am the only person that does this… to themselves. I mean, of course people do this, but to this extent. Why is it that I choose to befriend people so easily, to love them & accept them for who they are, even to put up with their bullshit, but when it comes time for me to show myself love & understanding, I can’t? I give everyone the benefit of the doubt but myself. I am far too kind for my own good, I guess. That never hurt anyone, but I somehow need to reverse this kind of thinking. Kill myself with kindness. I try to do that as much as possible, even in the simplest of gestures. For instance: going shopping, taking a hot shower, relinquishing my thinking for a little while & just doing whatever I feel like doing. These are wonderful ways… but I’m sure there are better, deeper means of how to let go.
Lover is now snoring so loudly that my heart just skipped a beat. How could one tolerate that sound & yet be able to sleep so comfortably? It would scare the dickens out of me to hear myself snore like that. I would never get to sleep. That would be miserable; imagine someone not being able to sleep because he’s an avid snorer & every time he drifts off, he wakes himself up. Wretched.
I will take this chance to use my blessing of not being a snorer & get some sleep. All the while hoping that I will not be kept awake tonight; by my own thoughts about Ev’Yan Hitler… &/or Jonathan’s snoring.
march 4, 2008
in the waiting line.
Tuesday, March 4th, 2008
I am still growing accustomed to this new type of self-expression. There is this part of me that holds back from saying what is really on my mind. In here, I mean. I have the same fears as everyone else would about something like this. Fear of someone knowing my innermost secrets & thoughts, not to mention habits & desires. Fear of my private life being made public to the wrong ears (or eyes, rather). How might people react? It’s obvious that those who don’t know me wouldn’t think twice. There is no preconceived notion because they have no idea who I am. They may not ever see me in their lives. But the ones that already know me & the ones that know me really well, this could come as a shock to them. As I typed that last sentence, the first thought that came into my head, almost screaming, was “Who cares what people think?” True, but not easy to relent to. I feel like there are 2 sides of me. One that enjoys knowing that people don’t quite know me. That I have secrets & favorites & characteristics that may seem unheard of for someone like me. & then, of course, there is this other side of me that almost gets off knowing that people know who I truly am. That I am not this innocent, quiet little thing. That I have, in fact, a wicked sense of humor. I can tell & laugh at dirty jokes. If people only knew…
I realize that if I want to feed into the second side — the getting off on knowing that people know me — I have to promote. I have to tell people about my project. I have to convince people that they have no idea who I am & if they dare, they should see what is really on my mind. But the first side — the timid, secretive side — holds me back. So complicating. What is more important to hold onto? Your pride or security? & is there a line between too much information & pure honesty?
These are the thoughts running through my head as I am setting quite poorly at our computer desk. The house is quiet. Not even music is playing & Sofie is fast asleep. The clouds ave crept underneath big fluffy clouds in the sky, making the color of our apartment this pale, grey color. I am awfully lonely and trying to decide what to make for dinner. Jonathan & I have our weekly therapy session this evening & I have to say that this is the first time I am regretting it. Not because I don’t like going, but because we get into this small room, me, him & the therapist & we literally have nothing to talk about. Which is not to say that we don’t argue, disagree & get on each other’s nerves like all other couples, because we do. But for some reason, upon sitting on that couch, we become tongue tied. Usually, I am the one trying to think of conversation starters or things that we could try to fight about. Nothing. It’s almost embarrassing to myself because in those moments I ask myself, why are we here? But there is something that keeps us making appointments for next time & then coming back… & doing the same thing all over again. I suppose I expect some massive cry session to come out eventually. That maybe we’re just warming up to a gigantic disagreement in the works. Or… maybe an enlightenment on a subject that hasn’t even been talked about yet. Yes, I stay for those things. I don’t want to end up like my parents. Then again, they went to pre-marital counseling, also.
So what should we talk about? What kind of things should I try to hint around tonight? Maybe the fact that when he cuts vegetables on the counter, he leaves the messy, sloppy juices of the tomatoes for me to clean the next morning? Should I talk about him not flushing the toilet? Maybe I should mention the time where he gave me bad directions & we were lost for an hour… I mean, these are things that married couples fight about, no? Or maybe we’re just too early to even be doing something like this. Maybe we should have waited until after our first year together. Goodness, I don’t know! I just hope that tonight is a bit more productive & that I at least raise my voice at him just a little bit. Just to make things interesting of course.
Tuesday, March 4th, 2008
I am still growing accustomed to this new type of self-expression. There is this part of me that holds back from saying what is really on my mind. In here, I mean. I have the same fears as everyone else would about something like this. Fear of someone knowing my innermost secrets & thoughts, not to mention habits & desires. Fear of my private life being made public to the wrong ears (or eyes, rather). How might people react? It’s obvious that those who don’t know me wouldn’t think twice. There is no preconceived notion because they have no idea who I am. They may not ever see me in their lives. But the ones that already know me & the ones that know me really well, this could come as a shock to them. As I typed that last sentence, the first thought that came into my head, almost screaming, was “Who cares what people think?” True, but not easy to relent to. I feel like there are 2 sides of me. One that enjoys knowing that people don’t quite know me. That I have secrets & favorites & characteristics that may seem unheard of for someone like me. & then, of course, there is this other side of me that almost gets off knowing that people know who I truly am. That I am not this innocent, quiet little thing. That I have, in fact, a wicked sense of humor. I can tell & laugh at dirty jokes. If people only knew…
I realize that if I want to feed into the second side — the getting off on knowing that people know me — I have to promote. I have to tell people about my project. I have to convince people that they have no idea who I am & if they dare, they should see what is really on my mind. But the first side — the timid, secretive side — holds me back. So complicating. What is more important to hold onto? Your pride or security? & is there a line between too much information & pure honesty?
These are the thoughts running through my head as I am setting quite poorly at our computer desk. The house is quiet. Not even music is playing & Sofie is fast asleep. The clouds ave crept underneath big fluffy clouds in the sky, making the color of our apartment this pale, grey color. I am awfully lonely and trying to decide what to make for dinner. Jonathan & I have our weekly therapy session this evening & I have to say that this is the first time I am regretting it. Not because I don’t like going, but because we get into this small room, me, him & the therapist & we literally have nothing to talk about. Which is not to say that we don’t argue, disagree & get on each other’s nerves like all other couples, because we do. But for some reason, upon sitting on that couch, we become tongue tied. Usually, I am the one trying to think of conversation starters or things that we could try to fight about. Nothing. It’s almost embarrassing to myself because in those moments I ask myself, why are we here? But there is something that keeps us making appointments for next time & then coming back… & doing the same thing all over again. I suppose I expect some massive cry session to come out eventually. That maybe we’re just warming up to a gigantic disagreement in the works. Or… maybe an enlightenment on a subject that hasn’t even been talked about yet. Yes, I stay for those things. I don’t want to end up like my parents. Then again, they went to pre-marital counseling, also.
So what should we talk about? What kind of things should I try to hint around tonight? Maybe the fact that when he cuts vegetables on the counter, he leaves the messy, sloppy juices of the tomatoes for me to clean the next morning? Should I talk about him not flushing the toilet? Maybe I should mention the time where he gave me bad directions & we were lost for an hour… I mean, these are things that married couples fight about, no? Or maybe we’re just too early to even be doing something like this. Maybe we should have waited until after our first year together. Goodness, I don’t know! I just hope that tonight is a bit more productive & that I at least raise my voice at him just a little bit. Just to make things interesting of course.
march 31, 2008
flowers, bugs, mother & worries.
Monday, March 31st, 2008
I am staring at my withering, white gerber daisies that Lover bought me, wondering why it is that flowers cannot last longer than a few weeks. I adore flowers so much & to watch them slowly die is torturous for me. Their once vibrant petals are now seemingly tired yawns; they are opening themselves so fully that they the petals are bending backwards. I can never bear to put them in the trashcan until they are completely at ease, with their petals shedding on the desk & the water a greenish yellow. My poor little flowers.
It’s only 11:30 & I’ve already had an eventful morning. I have caught 2 ridiculously hideous bugs in 2 separate plastic containers with lids & called Lover in dismay about my findings. He laughs at me when I am near tears over these “harmless” (his words, not mine) bugs. But, I beg to differ. These things are so ugly that I yelled out loud upon discovering them in the house. I lost my appetite, as well, which is a shame because I wanted a bowl of cereal. Lover is nonchalant about these creepy crawlies. He doesn’t duck or dodge them when they began flying around in agitation. He is calm & patient. He catches them like he is rescuing THEM instead of me. Every bug we’ve ever had trespass inside of our house has never been killed by Lover. He catches them in plastic containers & sets them free, no matter what hour of the night it is or how cold it is outside. He gives even the ugliest, nastiest bugs the chance at living a peaceful life. Bugs! Horrible, frightening bugs! I have never met someone so passionate about life as he. It’s beautiful. But… I don’t get so wrapped up in these feelings that I start to do the same thing. Sure, I caught those nasty flying bugs this morning, but I’m not letting them lose. Jonathan can do that. They’re lucky I even caught them! I could have smacked the guts out of them with my flip flop. But no, I thought of Lover’s diligence & kindness & it made me feel guilty. Oh, what he does to me. I’m swooning a bit, but still shaken at the thought of those bugs latching onto my skin & sucking the life out of me. It could happen, of course.
My weekend was pleasant; filled with endless moments with Lover & Sofie. & my mother came to visit yesterday afternoon, which is always nice. She needed her hair done & apparently, I am the only one she trusts with it. It’s quite flattering, since I haven’t done real hair (other than my family, I mean) for about a year. Nevertheless, I cherish the visits with my mother & her beau, Gregory, no matter how long they stay. They make me laugh & while with my mother, I am able to surrender to being a [kind of] kid again, delighted in my mother’s presence. It’s nice to have that break to be a daughter for a change. I have impeccable respect when it comes to my mother. I don’t see my her has human being. I see her as a beautiful life force that keeps me humble. When I was younger, I was convinced my mother was an Angel from Heaven. I couldn’t think of her any other way because she was so wise & so loving. Yes, she scolded me but I deserved it so that is excusable on her part. Regardless, I have always had this electric relationship with my mother. Even more now that I am “a grown married woman.” The only thing missing from the picture last night was my sister & her silly self.
I am a little frazzled today; partially because of the bugs, partially because I am suffering a minor case of Writer’s Block, partially because it is Monday & I am feeling extra-specially lazy. Hence the sporadic ramblings. I spent most of last night — after my mother left — tending to Jonathan who was suffering a wretched headache. He slept mostly, so there wasn’t anything for me to do, but I still felt involved because all I could do was worry about him. There was one moment where it was very silent in the house & I was talking to my very dear friend jemi on the internet. In this stillness, Sofie suddenly was startled awake… like something had scared her to the point of waking up. She was looking up at the loft, staring at Lover while he was sleeping. Being that I have such a heavy imagination, I instantly thought that something was wrong with Jonathan. I’ve heard such stories where dogs can sense seizures & other medical problems before they even occur to us humans. So I began thinking that she was possibly sensing some trouble about Lover’s migraine & I swiftly went up the stairs to the loft. I rubbed his inner wrists to wake him, & he opened his eyes & smiled at me. I gave a long sigh of relief. I don’t know where these maternal instincts are coming from. I’m not even sure they are maternal, so much as they are paranoia, but I care so deeply for my loved ones that it is almost hazardous to my own health. I began to take on the obligation of stressing & worrying for my family, when it seems as though they aren’t doing enough of it. When really… it’s NOT an obligation at all. They have never once asked me to carry their burdens, but I somehow manage to do it anyway. The other night, I joked with Jonathan that my job in our relationship is to look for warning signs & worry about them since he never seems to fret. As silly as that sounds, it’s true & I’m glad that I am Chief Worry Wart of the relationship. If it were any other way… well, I would be worried.
[I'd like to take a brief moment to extend my gratitude to everyone who has left beautiful comments on my blog. This is very unconventional of me, being that I don't like to mix my outside acquaintances with my journal, but it has been quite heavy on my heart for the past several days to say something, anything, to all of you who have been frequenting my blog. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate your kindness. I am at a loss for words, that is how grateful I am! I never, ever imagined that my stories here would be readable to the outside world, let alone enjoyable. Thank you for delightfully proving me wrong.]
Monday, March 31st, 2008
I am staring at my withering, white gerber daisies that Lover bought me, wondering why it is that flowers cannot last longer than a few weeks. I adore flowers so much & to watch them slowly die is torturous for me. Their once vibrant petals are now seemingly tired yawns; they are opening themselves so fully that they the petals are bending backwards. I can never bear to put them in the trashcan until they are completely at ease, with their petals shedding on the desk & the water a greenish yellow. My poor little flowers.
It’s only 11:30 & I’ve already had an eventful morning. I have caught 2 ridiculously hideous bugs in 2 separate plastic containers with lids & called Lover in dismay about my findings. He laughs at me when I am near tears over these “harmless” (his words, not mine) bugs. But, I beg to differ. These things are so ugly that I yelled out loud upon discovering them in the house. I lost my appetite, as well, which is a shame because I wanted a bowl of cereal. Lover is nonchalant about these creepy crawlies. He doesn’t duck or dodge them when they began flying around in agitation. He is calm & patient. He catches them like he is rescuing THEM instead of me. Every bug we’ve ever had trespass inside of our house has never been killed by Lover. He catches them in plastic containers & sets them free, no matter what hour of the night it is or how cold it is outside. He gives even the ugliest, nastiest bugs the chance at living a peaceful life. Bugs! Horrible, frightening bugs! I have never met someone so passionate about life as he. It’s beautiful. But… I don’t get so wrapped up in these feelings that I start to do the same thing. Sure, I caught those nasty flying bugs this morning, but I’m not letting them lose. Jonathan can do that. They’re lucky I even caught them! I could have smacked the guts out of them with my flip flop. But no, I thought of Lover’s diligence & kindness & it made me feel guilty. Oh, what he does to me. I’m swooning a bit, but still shaken at the thought of those bugs latching onto my skin & sucking the life out of me. It could happen, of course.
My weekend was pleasant; filled with endless moments with Lover & Sofie. & my mother came to visit yesterday afternoon, which is always nice. She needed her hair done & apparently, I am the only one she trusts with it. It’s quite flattering, since I haven’t done real hair (other than my family, I mean) for about a year. Nevertheless, I cherish the visits with my mother & her beau, Gregory, no matter how long they stay. They make me laugh & while with my mother, I am able to surrender to being a [kind of] kid again, delighted in my mother’s presence. It’s nice to have that break to be a daughter for a change. I have impeccable respect when it comes to my mother. I don’t see my her has human being. I see her as a beautiful life force that keeps me humble. When I was younger, I was convinced my mother was an Angel from Heaven. I couldn’t think of her any other way because she was so wise & so loving. Yes, she scolded me but I deserved it so that is excusable on her part. Regardless, I have always had this electric relationship with my mother. Even more now that I am “a grown married woman.” The only thing missing from the picture last night was my sister & her silly self.
I am a little frazzled today; partially because of the bugs, partially because I am suffering a minor case of Writer’s Block, partially because it is Monday & I am feeling extra-specially lazy. Hence the sporadic ramblings. I spent most of last night — after my mother left — tending to Jonathan who was suffering a wretched headache. He slept mostly, so there wasn’t anything for me to do, but I still felt involved because all I could do was worry about him. There was one moment where it was very silent in the house & I was talking to my very dear friend jemi on the internet. In this stillness, Sofie suddenly was startled awake… like something had scared her to the point of waking up. She was looking up at the loft, staring at Lover while he was sleeping. Being that I have such a heavy imagination, I instantly thought that something was wrong with Jonathan. I’ve heard such stories where dogs can sense seizures & other medical problems before they even occur to us humans. So I began thinking that she was possibly sensing some trouble about Lover’s migraine & I swiftly went up the stairs to the loft. I rubbed his inner wrists to wake him, & he opened his eyes & smiled at me. I gave a long sigh of relief. I don’t know where these maternal instincts are coming from. I’m not even sure they are maternal, so much as they are paranoia, but I care so deeply for my loved ones that it is almost hazardous to my own health. I began to take on the obligation of stressing & worrying for my family, when it seems as though they aren’t doing enough of it. When really… it’s NOT an obligation at all. They have never once asked me to carry their burdens, but I somehow manage to do it anyway. The other night, I joked with Jonathan that my job in our relationship is to look for warning signs & worry about them since he never seems to fret. As silly as that sounds, it’s true & I’m glad that I am Chief Worry Wart of the relationship. If it were any other way… well, I would be worried.
[I'd like to take a brief moment to extend my gratitude to everyone who has left beautiful comments on my blog. This is very unconventional of me, being that I don't like to mix my outside acquaintances with my journal, but it has been quite heavy on my heart for the past several days to say something, anything, to all of you who have been frequenting my blog. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate your kindness. I am at a loss for words, that is how grateful I am! I never, ever imagined that my stories here would be readable to the outside world, let alone enjoyable. Thank you for delightfully proving me wrong.]
march 27, 2008
look what you’ve done.
Thursday, March 27th, 2008
I have put myself in a terrible situation: I have become far too used to being a “stay at home housewife.” It’s dangerous & I do not know if I can reverse it. It’s all because of my runaway imagination.
I woke up this morning to Lover gently kissing me on the cheeks, telling me that he was on his way to work. I smiled at his kisses & then smiled a bit bigger when I realized that [as usual] I have all day to myself, to do whatever I wish, however I wish & whenever I wish. Lover left a few moments later & I stumbled out of bed, greeting Sofie at the top of the stairs. I then decided that I was going to make myself breakfast. While the coffee was brewing, my super-delicious, gigantic cinnamon rolls were baking in the oven. I took a moment to thank God for allowing me to have this precious time to myself & for also allowing me to indulge in these amazing cinnamon rolls. It was the perfect morning; I enjoyed every sip of coffee, every bite of sticky rolls with gooey icing & all the while I kept thinking “this has got to stop. It must, or else you’ll be stuck here because you have grown fond of being free & careless. This was only supposed to be temporary, my Dear; just a few weeks of pleasure & then it’s back to the grueling responsibility of finding employment. You must! Husband can’t carry this heavy load alone.” Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to yell back, “Leave me alone!” or hum loudly to imply that I wasn’t listening… I had a harsh wakeup call when I realized, Oh… so THAT’S what I’m supposed to be doing; in the midst of my pleasure I had forgotten. I’m really trying not to think of it now because I don’t want to go back to work. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind if I never went back to work. The more days I spend here lollygagging & having mini adventures around my town, the more I cannot see myself going back to work. It sounds funny when I type it; I’m close to laughing at the predicament I’ve gotten myself in. But it’s really quite serious & I don’t know what to do.
It all started when, just a week ago, Lover had revealed to me that he had been offered a permanent position with a company that will pay him ten times more & offer an amazing package of benefits. He told me this very nonchalantly, like the probability of this actually happening was slim, he just wanted me to be aware of what was said to him today. Naturally, I was already starting to plan the rest of our year. (Oh, wonderful! Then that means I won’t have to work & if I don’t have to work then I can stay here & write. Maybe I can write a memoir! Maybe I can take up flower arranging; oh I’ve always wanted to do that. We could save money now & move to Seattle if we’d like. Or… or… we could take a vacation. Or… we can get a car! We could even get a better apartment! Oh the possibilities are endless. Yipee!) Silently, of course, not realizing that I was getting a bit over my head. I was so excited (actually, I still am, who am I kidding) & so it has been for the last week or so. I even told my mother about it who is just as thrilled as I am. Although… she’s not making it any better for a dreamer like me because she’s telling me that basically, he’s already got the job. She said to me: “Oh Ev’Yan; he’s got this. I mean, there’s no arguing with that. He’s got the job & this is fantastic!” Sigh. But he doesn’t have the job; he hasn’t even met with the “boss” about the job yet. There is nothing sealed is stone, there is nothing signed on paper. The only person wrapped up in a dream, in my own personal La La Land, is me. It’s a wicked, wicked thing & now I am reeling over it. I can’t seem to put myself back into Unemployment Panicking Syndrome mode. To prove to myself that I am fully aware that nothing is definite, I tried looking for jobs today online; something of which I haven’t done in, oh… several days. But, alas, I couldn’t focus & ended up doing something a bit more intriguing, which was looking at fashion articles for inspiration on what to do with my bulging closet. I even tried to scare myself silly, basically saying things like, Well… you know that rent is due & when that check gets cashed you will only have ___ in your account & that is awfully scary. Oooo, so scary. & you know… even though things would manage okay if Jonathan had to be the sole financial support, it would still be cutting it awfully close. Scaryy. Horrible. Oh, the agony… Nope… that didn’t help either. My mind is literally too distracted, too fixed on this idea about the new job. Fuck, in my brain, he’s already got the damn job! I have no idea what to do.
It’s nearing 3:30pm & what have I done all day? I have uploaded [amazing] music onto my iPod; I have given Sofie a bath; I have had a beautiful breakfast & an even better late lunch; I have cleaned the kitchen; I have watched a few hours of television; I have looked for jobs for a mere 30 minutes - tops; I’ve talked to my sister, my mother, my husband & my friend, Ross; & now I sit here, shaking my head, thinking of the mess I have made within myself.
I talked to Lover about it on the phone & all he can say is “Babe… now I wish I never would have told you about the job.” I wish he hadn’t either. Then maybe I could actually get some real work done. I’m being hard on myself because I realize that I am living a dream right now & pretty soon, I am going to wake up to the reality that Jonathan didn’t get the job & well… Ev’Yan doesn’t have a job at all. & when that happens, I will most likely burst into a fit of tears at my reckless imagination & then stress the hell out to the point where I physically can’t do anything because I am so mopey.
Yes; something’s gotta give before I’m up a creek without a paddle. Sigh.
Thursday, March 27th, 2008
I have put myself in a terrible situation: I have become far too used to being a “stay at home housewife.” It’s dangerous & I do not know if I can reverse it. It’s all because of my runaway imagination.
I woke up this morning to Lover gently kissing me on the cheeks, telling me that he was on his way to work. I smiled at his kisses & then smiled a bit bigger when I realized that [as usual] I have all day to myself, to do whatever I wish, however I wish & whenever I wish. Lover left a few moments later & I stumbled out of bed, greeting Sofie at the top of the stairs. I then decided that I was going to make myself breakfast. While the coffee was brewing, my super-delicious, gigantic cinnamon rolls were baking in the oven. I took a moment to thank God for allowing me to have this precious time to myself & for also allowing me to indulge in these amazing cinnamon rolls. It was the perfect morning; I enjoyed every sip of coffee, every bite of sticky rolls with gooey icing & all the while I kept thinking “this has got to stop. It must, or else you’ll be stuck here because you have grown fond of being free & careless. This was only supposed to be temporary, my Dear; just a few weeks of pleasure & then it’s back to the grueling responsibility of finding employment. You must! Husband can’t carry this heavy load alone.” Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to yell back, “Leave me alone!” or hum loudly to imply that I wasn’t listening… I had a harsh wakeup call when I realized, Oh… so THAT’S what I’m supposed to be doing; in the midst of my pleasure I had forgotten. I’m really trying not to think of it now because I don’t want to go back to work. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind if I never went back to work. The more days I spend here lollygagging & having mini adventures around my town, the more I cannot see myself going back to work. It sounds funny when I type it; I’m close to laughing at the predicament I’ve gotten myself in. But it’s really quite serious & I don’t know what to do.
It all started when, just a week ago, Lover had revealed to me that he had been offered a permanent position with a company that will pay him ten times more & offer an amazing package of benefits. He told me this very nonchalantly, like the probability of this actually happening was slim, he just wanted me to be aware of what was said to him today. Naturally, I was already starting to plan the rest of our year. (Oh, wonderful! Then that means I won’t have to work & if I don’t have to work then I can stay here & write. Maybe I can write a memoir! Maybe I can take up flower arranging; oh I’ve always wanted to do that. We could save money now & move to Seattle if we’d like. Or… or… we could take a vacation. Or… we can get a car! We could even get a better apartment! Oh the possibilities are endless. Yipee!) Silently, of course, not realizing that I was getting a bit over my head. I was so excited (actually, I still am, who am I kidding) & so it has been for the last week or so. I even told my mother about it who is just as thrilled as I am. Although… she’s not making it any better for a dreamer like me because she’s telling me that basically, he’s already got the job. She said to me: “Oh Ev’Yan; he’s got this. I mean, there’s no arguing with that. He’s got the job & this is fantastic!” Sigh. But he doesn’t have the job; he hasn’t even met with the “boss” about the job yet. There is nothing sealed is stone, there is nothing signed on paper. The only person wrapped up in a dream, in my own personal La La Land, is me. It’s a wicked, wicked thing & now I am reeling over it. I can’t seem to put myself back into Unemployment Panicking Syndrome mode. To prove to myself that I am fully aware that nothing is definite, I tried looking for jobs today online; something of which I haven’t done in, oh… several days. But, alas, I couldn’t focus & ended up doing something a bit more intriguing, which was looking at fashion articles for inspiration on what to do with my bulging closet. I even tried to scare myself silly, basically saying things like, Well… you know that rent is due & when that check gets cashed you will only have ___ in your account & that is awfully scary. Oooo, so scary. & you know… even though things would manage okay if Jonathan had to be the sole financial support, it would still be cutting it awfully close. Scaryy. Horrible. Oh, the agony… Nope… that didn’t help either. My mind is literally too distracted, too fixed on this idea about the new job. Fuck, in my brain, he’s already got the damn job! I have no idea what to do.
It’s nearing 3:30pm & what have I done all day? I have uploaded [amazing] music onto my iPod; I have given Sofie a bath; I have had a beautiful breakfast & an even better late lunch; I have cleaned the kitchen; I have watched a few hours of television; I have looked for jobs for a mere 30 minutes - tops; I’ve talked to my sister, my mother, my husband & my friend, Ross; & now I sit here, shaking my head, thinking of the mess I have made within myself.
I talked to Lover about it on the phone & all he can say is “Babe… now I wish I never would have told you about the job.” I wish he hadn’t either. Then maybe I could actually get some real work done. I’m being hard on myself because I realize that I am living a dream right now & pretty soon, I am going to wake up to the reality that Jonathan didn’t get the job & well… Ev’Yan doesn’t have a job at all. & when that happens, I will most likely burst into a fit of tears at my reckless imagination & then stress the hell out to the point where I physically can’t do anything because I am so mopey.
Yes; something’s gotta give before I’m up a creek without a paddle. Sigh.
march 14, 2008 - pt. ii
apricot is chicken little.
Friday, March 14th, 2008
I certainly feel silly. Last night, I had Lover read my blog (I have appointed him chief editor of my blog) & after giggling a bit & reading through the whole entry, he walked over to me while I was laying on the couch, kissed me on my forehead & said “You’re silly & I love you.” That was it. No other words were exchanged about the troubles going on in my head. Not one more word of it. I suppose, again, I expected that he would freak out a little just as I have been doing. But his one liner made me see that he’s not concerned whatsoever. Actually, when I brought it to his attention once more before bed, desperation in my voice, he was puzzled at my determination to get to the bottom of this. He said, “Oh….. you were serious?” My face went blank & I felt like I was going to burst into fits of laughter. Of course I was!!! But… I just sighed, rolled over & tried to get some sleep. & that is why I feel silly; ridiculous would be a better word. Seems like I am the only one who is yelling “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” like Chicken Little & everyone around me is calm as a cucumber, not even noticing my worry. When in fact, the sky is not falling… but it feels like it is. & when I finally come to this conclusion, it is embarrassing. To see myself get so wrapped up in my own thoughts, my own imagination is kind of embarrassing… & — dare I say? — a little funny. Like today, for example. I noticed that while I was finishing shaving my left leg in the shower, the razor I was using was rusty. I gasped & threw the razor. Then, I called my husband & told him my dilemma. I tried not to sound desperate like I did last night, but I explained to him that I thought I may need to go to the doctor because I had shaved my leg with a rusty razor. Oh, the things I get myself into. Turns out, through a brief & thorough investigation by my husband, I was at no risk because I hadn’t nicked myself while shaving, therefore I was safe from getting lockjaw. Now, I will say that I am not THAT much of a worry-wart, but I do have a tendency to over exaggerate my situations. When I was a little girl, full of imagination & wonder, I discovered that the bigger the story the bigger the audience. Bad habits are the hardest to break & I am still working on this one. You will catch me telling a story but making the number of swarming killer bees 10, instead of the more accurate being 2. Or a gigantic, scary spider when it really was medium-sized. Although…I have never heard Lover complain too much about it. I actually think he gets a kick out of saving this Damsel in Distress every so often; he also likes watching my face light up while I tell him stories. So long as I get to see his brilliant smile, I will continue with my exaggerations & shock-value stories.
I felt like today dragged on & on without much mercy. We didn’t have internet connection in our apartment for several hours so I was stuck staring aimlessly at the television screen wondering why there are such idiotic shows on it. Eventually, the computer was at my service again, & so it has been for the last hour or so. I have been putting more personal touches to my blog that were much needed. & I am still very much astounded at how many people are reading my words! Over 500 hits today; imagine that. I mean, I am not trying to brag — am I ever? — but I am honored. Humbled, as well. To many average joes, this is no big deal; people shrug their shoulders to just a few measly little visits from random people. But me, I see the beauty in every single individual taking time out of their days to take a gander at my ramblings. To know that people are giving me the time of day when I feel as though I deserve it as much as the other guy is nice.
march 13, 2008
brain over load.
Thursday, March 13th, 2008
Right when I was about to whine about how much of a lifeless day this is, I took a gander at my “blog hits” & saw that I have had 757 today & counting. I must say: I don’t know who you are or who is responsible, but thank you very much. :] Although there is nothing to show for it — comments or whatnot — I am touched that there are people out there who view my writings & find them decent.
The days are passing by very fast & my flowers are wilting. Flowers are so beautiful, but I’d rather have something that hasn’t been ripped off of its natural life support to sit pretty in my home for several days. It would be nice to get an actual plant; one that you can put inside of the ground. That way nobody is getting hurt. Poor little flowers; I wish I could save them.
I am sitting behind this computer, waiting for Lover to get home as usual. I had a rough night that involved me tossing & turning & wincing at the thoughts that were running through my mind. I had watched something horrible on television — the show Cheaters should be taken off the network; far too personal to show to the whole world – due to the fact that I couldn’t sleep (this wretched time change is kicking me in the ass, literally. After an hour or two of watching senseless television, I decided to try to get some sleep. Jonathan was snoring upstairs & I kept kicking him softly hoping that he would move on his side. As I started to drift off to sleep, I noted my sleeping position; fetal, curled up & back turned towards Lover. Curiously, I turned slightly not to wake him & noted his sleeping position: his back was turned towards me as well. I remember reading once (& this is where my imagination & intelligence really gets me into trouble) that sleep patterns are silent indicators of how a couple interpret each other in their relationship. Although I read this article in a Teenie-Bopper magazine, I feel like it is no joke. They showed many positions but the one that was the most awful of them all was the one me & Lover were doing last night. We were turned away from each other, isolating & neglecting the other. I on my own pillow in my own position, he on his own pillow in his own position. & so I began to think: what does this mean? Does this mean that there is something wrong with us? With our marriage? Is this a warning sign? Then I start to think a bit further about how we played out our day that night. He came home… we each each made our own dinners (he had some chinese, I think, while I had a salad), we watched television & talked briefly about our plans to travel. I called my mom back & Lover went to bed. That was it. So, with that, I began to think… “Oh no. We’re living more like roommates than Lovers!” I got this horrible taste in my mouth.
I woke up Lover because I needed his opinion; I didn’t care that it was midnight or later, I wasn’t going to sleep until I heard his two cents! I nudged him, lightly & called his name. “Baby… I have to ask you something…” Sleepily, he replied, “Hmm?” & I asked him, “Do you think we live more like roommates than Lovers?” He rolled over to face me, kissed me on the cheek & said confidently, “No, I don’t.” What should have been the answer to my question wasn’t & I was disappointed when he didn’t become worried like I was. Within minutes, he went back to sleep, snoring lightly & I lay there in the dark trying to make some sense of my own thoughts.
I know when I have over-thought something when I wake up the next day & I feel like I have a hangover in my brain. A brain over load or a brainover. Lover kissed me lightly to tell me he was leaving for work & I instantly started trying to remember what happened last night & why my head hurt so much the way it did. I was disoriented & don’t really recall what happened after that. I woke up at 9am, I think, still hungover.
What happened last night wasn’t all because of the events that occurred yesterday, like the fact that we didn’t talk much & our sleeping body language. I noticed instantly that it has been a while since we made love. There is nothing wrong with this & the reason of this is quite valid, but it still irked me. It was something our therapist said that made me think of this. We were talking about sex & how we need to incorporate it more in our relationship because we’re married & “the difference between a couple & roommates” she said “is the fact that there is intimacy involved.” Without intimacy we are roommates. Is this… bad? That is a rhetorical question. I suppose what I mean to say is how might one fix this?
I’m sure it is a lot more complicated than the answer being “just have sex!” It must.
march 14, 2008
if you’ve nothing nice to say…
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.
march 24, 2008
there were no eggs. everything was blue.
Monday, March 24th, 2008
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on how I look at it) there were no Easter festivities today whatsoever. Most of the day was spent being boring & lazy. Yes, I am complaining about it but only because my wretched expectations get in the way. I suppose I envisioned Lover & I waking up slowly together (which we did) & eventually make our big breakfast since it is Sunday (which we didn’t) & then maybe stay indoors until around noon, then go outside, since it was such a wonderful day out; maybe window shop, maybe go to the park as originally “planned.” That & a few other things. But the only exciting thing that happened to me today was going to Ralph’s & picking up a few items, one of them being those giant Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls that I love so much. Pathetically & regretfully, that is all that happened today for me. Lover spent most of the day sleeping. On the couch, in our bed. Sometimes just day dreaming while looking out the window & then eventually drifting off into a deep, snore-filled sleep. Tonight at a little past 11, he announced that he was going to bed for the night because he was tired. How could one be tired after sleeping until noon & then taking a 3 hour nap during the day? Honestly. I can’t help be a bit perturbed at this. For someone who spends most of her time isolated (by choice at times) from the world, dying to have an excuse to put on her best things, I live for weekends. God knows that even though I stay fairly busy during the week, the last thing I would want to do is stare at this computer screen, idling through the internet, bored stiff. Sigh. There is no choice but to get over it. But I truly feel that this day was a waste; I keep asking myself, where did my Sunday go?
I was in a sad state most of today, that is something undeniable. Lover noticed it, as well. Most of it had everything to do with what was mentioned above & then a part of it had to do with it being Easter (for heaven’s sake!) & not doing one little family oriented thing all day. Upon driving to the supermarket, I witnessed dozens & dozens of cars parked on my street. These were obviously family members that have come from out of town to celebrate with their loved ones. I saw on pair walking on the sidewalk up to a house & they seemed to be carrying rather large dishes. Casserole, maybe? Or jello? I saw families outside, playing with each other. People taking their elderly loved ones or their dogs on walks, pointing at the scenery around them, showing off their neighborhood & successes. I even saw a whole party dedicated to family! They were sitting in the front yard of a small house… there were about a dozen tables, one of them reserved for the younger ones. They were all sitting outside, enjoying the beautiful day, laughing & enjoying each other’s company. I could smell the food cooking as I drove slowly past. I smiled, happy to see this kind of unity. Then I got sad again; I miss my family. It’s not that I even miss Easter with my family because Easter was never a big deal to us. I just miss the comfort of my childhood home… my bedroom, my backyard. The way the air smelled when my mother was cooking in the kitchen. The way my stomach growled while watching her create an original recipe. I miss my father serenading us with his guitar, waiting to be called to the dinner table. I miss the playful banter that went around our dinner table, as well. We all had assigned seats at the table & they never changed. My father was to the west, my mom was to the north, my sister to the east & I was to the south. This NEVER changed. The only time our seating positions was changed was when my father left… & I resumed his position to the west. Why I did this, I don’t know. I almost feel like it was a metaphor. That somehow, I became apart of the head of the household. Strange that I think of that now; I hadn’t thought of it before.
I was thinking today how much things have changed in my life & in the lives of my families. We’ve all gone in different directions, literally. My sister is in Texas, my mother 2 hours away from me, my father relatively close but certainly not close enough to want to see him everyday & my family… here. Almost in the middle. Again: I miss my family. I say family & mean the 4 of us, together as one family. Not speaking of them separately. Nothing will ever compare to the life I had before the one I have now. That is an obvious statement. I suppose I mean that nothing will ever be the way it was when I was safe in my childhood home, with my parents & my sister. There has never been no other comfort that comes close. Strangely enough, going to my childhood home (as mentioned in my hauntings & ghosts entry) doesn’t make me want to stay. I actually hate going back; it’s almost scary. I can’t explain why; it is just this way.
Lover is now snoring; I wonder how many times I will announce this while writing, as though it’s necessary? I am not tired. I took a few large bites out of this dark chocolate Easter Bunny that Lover gave me a few days ago & I’m a bit wired. What is there to do so late at night? I could always watch Atonement again (a superb movie, by the way; absolutely brilliant). Or, I could play with my hair. Or, I could just cry a little inside about the reality of missing my family so much that it literally hurts; I mean literally hurts inside.
I don’t think Easter has ever made me this melancholy before.
march 22, 2008
strong coffee mornings.
Saturday, March 22nd, 2008
Another beautiful day in Los Angeles. I think I might take back what I said about rainy weather. Although I adore it more than sunny skies, I am really enjoying how nice it has been lately. What a gift it is to stray away from peacoats & fuzzy scarfs & boots. What a gift it is to be scantily clad in cut off shorts, spaghetti strapped, cotton tunics & droopy, long, thin-fabric vests. This is what I am wearing today, by the way.
As I was trying to find something clever to wear this afternoon, I was struck with the realization that I have way too many clothes in my closet. I mean… WAY too many clothes in my closet. My husband would probably say something like “duh!” to that, but truth be told, I never thought of this at all. Had I done that, I probably wouldn’t have overspent at Target the other day. Instantly, I became distracted at this realization & began to attempt cleaning out my closet for the 5th time this month. I was going through the articles of clothing like a very thick but elaborately interesting book. What I found were clothes that I had completely forgotten I had! Dressed & shirts & even a few pairs of jeans that I have neglected to give attention to. Needless to say, it was very embarrassing & I only ended up finding one measly little shirt to add to my pile of donations to the thrift store. One shirt. I can’t bear to see anything else go, although, I really need relieve my closet of so much clutter. So, from this day forward, I vow not to buy one article of clothing until (I’ll make it easy on myself, seeing as I’ve said this time & time again) oh… I don’t know; June? That seems reasonable. I hope to stick to this vow this time for the sake of my packed closet. I almost feel a bit sorry for the hangers that keep them; they’re jammed into each other in an unforgiving way. My closet is really a distaster but not in a messy way, just in the sense that there are so many clothes that it’s really quite overwhelming. I don’t know why it wasn’t obvious to me before about all of these clothes I have… I guess I never really counted my blessings.
I also told Lover that I am temporarily banned from going to Target. Period. & if I must go — they’ve got amazing deals on food items there, so I typically do my grocery shopping in that wretchedly hypnotizing place — he needs to come with me. I am not strong enough. He called me just now, actually, saying that he is done with his workout & is going to walk to Target if I’d like to join him. Proudly I declined. I’d much rather write, anyway. It saves me a lot of money.
It’s been a peaceful morning. I actually was startled awake this morning because it had dawned on me that I had slept through the whole night entirely. I haven’t gotten a decent night’s rest for about a week or so, due to the stresses of finding work (which I have put on hold for a little while to focus on my writing), obnoxious & senseless disagreements me & my husband have had & family worries (my mother has been consistently sick with something for a few weeks now; my sister is missing home, which is causing me to miss her even more & my dad’s distress seems to be that he has yet to change). All of these things aren’t in my face so much during the day so it all hits me at once when I am trying to get sleep; how convenient. Fortunately, it was very quiet last night; in my mind, I mean. Lover & I woke up at a shocking 10:00am this morning. I haven’t slept in that late in a long time. I could have slept more, actually… but my guilt got me out of bed. I had strange dreams, though, due to my eyes being completely shut all night. It felt like I had one long & uninterrupted dream last night that made no sense & kept switching stories every few minutes. All I remember is a doctor who was examining me (he was an OBGYN I think) a music festival that involved me getting high (shocking since that is far from my character) going joy riding with my sister through the streets of my old town, & a few weird fantasies about ex-lovers, which is very strange considering I haven’t given them not even 2 thoughts lately. Funny how the brain works.
I am going to go out & enjoy the sunshine.
march 21, 2008
spring in los angeles today.
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.
march 18th, 2008
spring has almost sprung.
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?
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