I have a lot of not nice things to say. I'm glad I've changed my outlook a lot over the past month or two. I definitely feel like there's been progress now.

It's taken me this long to figure out just what bothers me so much that I can't actually talk to Chris when we're together.  Not like, "what do you want for dinner?" but like, "so here's a story that happened."  It's no problem for me to talk to him on the phone, but when we're together it's like I just completely shut off story-wise.  Well, after starting several stories today alone, to a pre-occupied doing-something-else Chris, I realize that that's the problem.  I can't tell that he's only half-listening when we're on the phone.  I can when we're in person.

And to bring it up would create the over-sarcastic scene where Chris thinks it has everything to do with Warcraft and shuts everything off and over-emphasizes that he's paying attention to me and only me.  I, in turn, get offended, say nevermind and the "you're only happy when I'm paying attention to you" fight ensues.  It has nothing to do with that.  I'd just like to be able to talk and know the person I'm talking to is listening.  I bet my grandfather didn't hear a thing Flo said.  S'probably very true.

My quest for independence will never be completed so long as I'm with Chris.

You just left my house after dealing with a blood-ridden, emotional, nauseous mess.  And honestly, you handled everything quite perfectly.  I'm sorry I spent last night bawling on you like an idiot because I was "happy" but it's true:  I do not deserve you.  Or maybe, a better way to think about it:  you are perfect for me.  I don't always get the feeling I'm so perfect for you, and you don't particularly share with me the opinion that I might be, if by chance you believe so, but I hope that even if I'm not the "one" for you, you stick around long enough to teach me how to handle losing you.  The fortune cookie was right (oddly enough); I'm 'saving' too much.  I need to enjoy you while I have you.  It's not that I think you don't care enough about me, or even that I think you don't love me (because honestly, I do), I just think all of this hesitation, all of the holding back has meaning.  I also think that I have yet to "get mine".  I mean, I was loved more than life itself, and I swear that's how I've grown to feel about you.  Now that this is what it's come down to, I'm waiting for you to play the role of Linda and love me just 'under' enough to keep me.  Hell, maybe you never will.  Maybe you will actually understand love and it'll be with/because of me.  But I'm sorry to say the signs don't point to such a state as they are.  It's been a year since we started dating and you can't say you love me.  Don't you see something 'off' about that? 

I know, we've grown a lot over the past year, and most especially over the last month or two (and even moreso in the past week), so maybe there's hope yet.  I guess I still have some or I'd never have survived this weekend (alone).

In any event, I wanted to thank you a million times.  You are the best boyfriend I have ever had, and you are likely to be the best I'll ever have should you decide to leave me (or get me to leave you) someday.  I can honestly say I've never been this happy.  I love you with all my heart. <3

Funny, I've never written the word 'epitome' until now, or, provided I have, I'm surprised to learn it looks different today than all the other days.  I can blame it on the sick, which is easily just an extension of something more, something...menstrual.  That's right boys and girls, the Blood God has spoken (a day late and $11.95 short) and man did I piss him off.  Not only was I unable to leisurely saunter through the mall, I can't even be a good girlfriend.  I'm trapped between ohmygodsomethingisstabbingmeintheuterus and hormonally emo.  Yes, these could both be excuses for me being...well, me, but either way, it' is most certainly the case this fine eve. 

I want...everything and nothing all at once.  I want to be alone; I don't want Chris to leave.  I don't want to focus on anything; I want to get my homework done.  I want to sleep; I want to sleep when it's time to sleep.  I want to eat; I don't have anything I want to eat; I can't think of anything I want to get to eat.  I am utterly unpleasable, save for being trapped on a desert island (somewhere warm, preferably) with Chris and a plethora of food.

Bah, who am I kidding?  The answer is to cry it out, sleep it off, and suck it up.  Would you be surprised to learn I don't want to do any of those things?

Chris & I broke up on Friday and I found myself confused as to if I were in my old apartment in Brooklyn or in Ossining as I shook and begged and promised.  I begged for one more try and I promised to make our relationship work.  My ears rang and a tiny bit of depression began to breed.  If it happens on a repetitious basis, then it's not that I'm just dating the same exact type of men, is it?  No.  It's me.  It's my selfishness and my low self-esteem and my inability to accept.  He allowed me the chance.  But in the same respect, he's also (for the past few days, at least) taken heed to the things I've said, even if he claims/ed their completely false or made-up, and his behavior has managed to meet me halfway.

I sit here tonight proud of the fact that Chris played warcraft here on Sunday for 4 hours while I did other things because it means I let him be him.  I know that if I love him for him and not just the things I like about him, then he'll love that I do, and he'll truly love me.  He does.  I can tell.  It's funny that I know it and yet he doesn't, but there's a part of him that is weak to me.  He doesn't just want this to work because he doesn't want to be a failure, he wants it to work because he likes it; he likes me.

I can't always handle the way he handles things, but it seems like certain issues get farther and farther away every time we have a discussion (if you're Chris, read: argument) about us and that even after a year of ups and downs, we're better today than ever before.  I know I say that a lot about me, and life, but I guess it just feels like I'm continuing to head in the right direction: with school, with Chris, with my own emo bullshit. So long as I don't give up, I can't lose. 

Lastly, operant conditioning.  On Sunday, Chris and I talked about some things, like talking about things, and it came up that he can make me happy just by being around when I am not-so-great, but I cannot do the same for him.  I pondered this tonight on my drive home from school and I think I attribute a lot of that to operant conditioning.  Like Pavlov's dog, because Chris has managed to talk me to a more sensible, less emotional place a lot of the times I am amidst crises, his presence carries with it a sense of calm, however minute.  I don't return the favor because he a) doesn't have frustrating/upsetting emotional issues, like, ever, and b) I'm not analytical or rationalizing or calm all that often.  Now, if I could only find what I'd be good for, maybe we can get him in on the operant conditioning too! 

(Bad Linda.  Do not set yourself up like that.  Ever.)

not yet, but the Blood God warns.  What do I seek at this time?  Comfort.  Do I ever manage to find it? Nope.  Oh well.  In this instance (so far) I'm just chalking it up as a loss and forcing myself not to cry.

The most I've talked to Chris in two days is about 20 minutes.  No emails either.  The good news is as much as I care, I care less and less.
Normally, after a 12 minute conversation where all I do is complain about everything weighing on me and he gets off the phone, I pine and I send a text or something.  Tonight, I just feel disappointed.  And then I figure I'll show up tomorrow at his house as late as I fucking want, and I'll do as much homework as I want there and I don't care.  I feel like: if there's so little consideration for me, why have so much for him?  I'm sick of feeling unreciprocated.  Did he ask how my test was?  Did he ask what happened with my car?  No.  I figured out why I don't care if I don't talk to him on the phone.  I despise it.  Ever since I realized our conversation consists of my rambling and long pauses before he repeats the last thing I said to prove that he might have heard me.  Asking him to avoid distraction doesn't work.  Rather, it works a little.  He could be much worse, and he has gotten a lot better, but it still makes me feel unappreciated and insignificant.  Stopping playing wow to talk to me is making me 'first,' but not paying attention to me when you're on the call negates that.  I didn't think I could do it, but I'm bumping Chris from first on my list.  I've been training myself not to think about him when my mind wanders in that direction.  I find something else to focus on.  Maybe someday I'll get used to not being the reason someone lives.  Maybe I'll learn to make myself most important.  So far, so good, I think -- even though it's been like a week and a half.

Also, how do you tell someone (or don't you?) that spending a weekend with their family during a holiday isn't considered 'relaxing'?  Sure, I've no real responsibilities there, but really?  When am I ever going to be comfortable in a room with a bunch of people that are clearly nothing like me and don't follow most of the beliefs I've been brought up with?  I ask you, when?  I don't expect Chris to love Christmas day at my dad's; I barely expect him to be okay here with my mom-roommate.  But I'd never say he gets to spend a nice relaxing day at my father's.  That's just...fucking hilarious.

Fuck this.  I'm going to bed.  And tomorrow he'll be lucky if I get there before midnight.  I'm doing homework at home first.  I just don't care anymore.

Tomorrow's plan:
8am - wake up
8:50am - walk to Tilden to pick up (broken) car
10:00am - work
6:00pm - clock-out
6:00pm - register for classes
6:30pm - head home
7:30pm - pack for weekend and clean up room
8:30pm - outline/notes for paper due on Thursday
10:00pm - leave for Ossining
11:30pm - arrive in Ossining

My life, my plan.  That's how it's gonna go now.  He can tag along or he can do his own thing.

but somehow I'm all over the emotional and mental ability to conquer Everest. 
    My car broke.  Twice.  And y'know what I did?  Made arrangements and laughed at the situation with co-workers. 
    My glasses broke (the first time I leaned onto them on my bed, this time my mom ran them over with her scooter) and I scowled for a few minutes but got my old glasses out of the car and am wearing them now.
    I have a test tomorrow.  I started studying on Wednesday of last week, I think.  I have 45 pages of material to type tonight (which means roughly 2 - 2 1/2 hours worth) and I haven't even cracked the 'update' books.  Am I stressed?  Nope.  I'll get it done.  And I'll leave work early to cram right before the test.  And I'll pass the test.  Maybe not with flying colors, and maybe I'll never get in the 90s, but I'll do okay.
    I'm getting a paper assignment tomorrow.  But I'll be home ~6:30 tomorrow night and I'll do my math homework and an outline for the paper.  I'll write a bunch of it on Saturday, after Chris's and my therapy appointment but before dinner at my dad's and I'll finish it Monday night (if not, Tuesday night).  My Thursday deadline doesn't really scare me.
    I'm oddly calm.  I'm not complaining, just finding it odd.  Sure, yeah, there's a little piece of me that's inside going, "AHHHHHHHHH! Are you nuts?! How are you going to do all of those things and make it through Turkey Day at the Johns's and not go into either a) pure rage or b) an alcoholic coma?!"  But something else in there goes, "Oh, shut up!" and it does and I'm a little bit more relaxed than usual.   I don't even care so much that Chris drinks more than I do during the week but would never admit to it if you asked him who drinks more.  It makes me laugh a little.
    Of course, now I only have 13 minutes left before I have to go back to typing my notes, but I'll be fine.  Hopefully I can get them done in 45 before my next break and I'll start the last (shortest) part @10.  Hell, I might even get to type some of the updates' stuff--something I haven't done yet.
    Screw it, I'll go back to it now.

Apparently, there's hope for me yet.  I had three minor slip-ups this weekend, but all-in-all things were a-okay.  First, Saturday I wanted to punch babies, I swear.  I'm blaming hormones 'cause it's comin' up on that time but it managed to subside at some point and all went relatively smoothly.  Chris & I made tomato, basil and spinach soup with grilled cheese for dinner which was YUMMMMMY.  After dinner we made characters on his favorite WoW server and played to level 6 or so.  But 4 beers later I apparently was feeling rushed in the game (again).  I know Chris was waiting around and doing one quest at a time for me but I told him I try to take his advice and get 'em all at once and do as many as I can before turning them in.  I guess he took that as a sign to go back to flying through quests and levels and to try to 'keep me calm' in the process.  I wasn't really comfortable with that so I basically shut off.  Me, not the game.  It made him say he didn't want to play anymore (and that he was sorry about it, which I found funny, 'cause it really wasn't the truth) so we got ready for bed, fooled around then passed the hell out. 

Getting up at 8:45 in the morning is fairly new to us so when noon rolled around and we were wondering what to do after getting my car towed to Tilden (dead battery), it was a nice change of pace.  We had breakfast at the diner, then later mom made us all artichokes, which the artichoke virgin liked (unlike some [former] boyfriends of mine) and then we made some fluffy-like cakey brownies which I think are okay but my mother and Chris liked.  Somehow though, I'm going to wind up eating (and giving away) what's left.  We veged most of the day and watched MythBusters and My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  Dinner was BLTs (also yummy) so all I had to do was fry some bacon and a shitload of dishes.  (However, Chris did them at one point yesterday so I didn't have to do them all weekend.  That was nice.)

When we got upstairs after dinner for Chris to play warcraft and me to start typing the last section of my psych notes, I noticed he had a voicemail.  He checked and said it was Rachel.  So ten minutes later he heads downstairs to get a drink and his phone rings.  Upon checking I realize it's Rachel and, like a big-girl, I picked up.  Told her since I saw it was her I figured I'd get it and wait for Chris to come back.  She made some comment about how he never picks up when she calls but I tried to tell her he was just never near the phone, which is almost always the case.  She tried to talk him into talking me into camping on our vacations (winter break) but I just don't want to do it, not with internet and heat either.  Enticing yes, but it's my vacation.  I don't want to go somewhere I'm agreeing to go to.  I want to go somewhere we can all agree we want to go to.  Is that not fair?  I think it's fair.  So the vacation conversation has been postponed till holiday-time, a/k/a 3 days.  So I can get put on the spot by two Johns.  Oy.

Anyway, I got a little misty-eyed tonight (again).  Sundays are my cry-so-your-boyfriend-doesn't-leave nights.  I don't mean them to be, but that's what they wind up being.  Even after popping that half a vicodin pill that I've had for years and years.  I thought it'd make the pain in my neck/upper back go away, but it didn't.  It just made me horny, like I forgot it always did, and kinky on top of that.  Of course that sparked my 'why don't we do anything ... fun in the bedroom?' conversation which turned into a whole fiasco about how Chris will never fully satisfy me and how it's a big deal versus it not being a big deal.  Not for nothing but he did it for someone else, so now I get the shit end of the stick?  As Stephanie Tanner would say, "how rude."  But anyways, he conceded that he was tired and probably shouldn't discuss something that would frustrate him while he's tired and he'd think about it and see if he couldn't find something he'd be amenable to.  I doubt we'll have the conversation again for quite some time, but damn James.  For gagging me with my own underwear and pulling my hair.  I hate that I remember that and I hate that I miss it and I want it.  Can't I just get past this stage already?  What's a girl to do?  And how in the world do I approach such a topic with my straight-laced therapist on Saturday?!?!?!?!

Yeah.  So I don't feel like talking to Chris tonight.  I don't really know why and it's a little disconcerting.  I mean, things are just fine between us and all.  I've been making an effort to stop making an effort, so maybe that's the problem/cause.  I screwed up today by responding to his email.  Unless the only thing I want to say is "uh huh"  or "that's nice" or "haha," there's no point in bothering to type.  He forgets what it says by nightfall anyway, and he doesn't answer questions, so fuck it.  I learned the hard way.  Oh well. 

As for the phone conversation tonight, it lasted 7 minutes.  (And I don't exaggerate, so that's an accurate time. Maybe it was closer to 7.5 minutes.)  I have a headache and I'm tired and I'm sick of pretending to have a boyfriend once a night for four days then getting to remember on the weekends.  So what if this is a reverting step backward in the relationship, maybe it'll be good for us.  I'm actually happy knowing he exists (as my boyfriend) whenever I think about him randomly so there's that.  No need for reinforcement, I suppose. 

Maybe I'm PMS-ing, I don't really know for sure.  I'm just out of relationship energy.  We did okay for awhile because I felt like I was strong enough to carry us and both of our insecurities, but I'm not.  I even honestly thought I came first in his life, but when it comes down to it, I don't.  Not that I would, but were I to offer an ultimatum between myself & warcraft, he'd probably take the game.  It's less work and wastes just as much time as our relationship, if not more.  So I'm definitely not first.  Which has caused me to think a little bit more rationally about things.  Why is he first in my life?  S'right, I haven't a real answer aside from love.  Under my reasoning, there's no way I'm first in his book then.  So what need I do?  Re-prioritize.  As much as I hate to do it, mostly because I'm doing it for the wrong reasons, I'll work around him on the weekends and holidays, but when we're not together or planning to be, I'll be off doing my own thing.  I don't need to tell him where I'll be and when because he won't remember anyway.  Why even bother?

He told me to call him back tonight to say goodnight.  I don't really feel like it.  I wouldn't say I'm depressed at present, but I'm certainly not happy-go-lucky.  I'm tired.  Of stuff.  And I need a break.

Speaking of breaks, back to typing 40 pages worth of notes on child development.  I'd leave the task for another day but...there just aren't any.

communication. is at. an all time. low.  Blech.
I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall sometimes.  No, not a brick wall, a broken alta-vista translator.   I don't know how to appropriately express myself.  I'm sure I'm partially to blame.  However.  How the hell am I supposed to maintain any kind of order with someone who says "just because I say something once doesn't mean it's always true."  WHAT?!  Great, you now have a defense for everything ever. Seriously, what's the point of saying something if you're going to change your mind about it when the situation changes?  That's what I hate the absolute most.  It's "almost 11:00 already" if I want to go out, but "only 10-ish" if we're trying to decide whether to turn in or play warcraft.  This situation hasn't actually occurred, but it's an example of how things are ...bent... to fit Chris's need for them.  Drives. Me. Fucking. Nuts.

And if I don't stop feeling like I'm wholly responsible for every little thing that goes on that's negative, but part of a "joint effort" when it's something like a magic 8-ball costume, my complex will never cease to be.  I ain't down for that kind of unhealthy negative self-concept.  I tolerate taking the blame for "his reactions" since he's so saintly and could never act rash without good reason because it's not worth fighting over.  Plus, I've no real (decent) experience in fighting.  I could be 100% right 90% of the time, but when faced with someone that should've gone national on the debate team, I'm more likely to lose on the grounds that I'm not a good arguer.  Not on principle or truth, on semantics.  How pathetic.  I really should just chalk it up as a self-esteem booster.  I'm a fan of the truth, and if I know it, I'm the wiser.  I should laugh at his inability to take responsibility, or take a stand or even hold a solid statement.

Y'know, the only time I've ever see Chris "stand up" to me and whatever-it-is-I-was-doing-that-needed-taking-a-stand-to was when he was actually right and had an honestly legit reason.  So somewhere in that manipulating brain of his a part of him knows the truth.  That's....kind of comforting.  Shame that only happened like twice. 

I'm so ashamed of my emotions, but why?  They're not always wrong, they're just ... under-controlled.  Especially when my instincts fuel them.  Dear God, then they should be the mightiest warriors of them all.  But.  I forget.  I have to silently and calmly maintain that despite all of the aforementioned poor character traits, Chris really does do wonders for me and my sanity. 

I'm just afraid I'm going to have this battle only accidentally (or would it be?) out loud, with him, because I'm not good at actually keeping things inside.  I did an okay job tonight.  I mean, I could've gotten into all this but what would've been the point?  A fight?  Why?  He'll never actually concede.  So there it is.  I hide in my LiveJournal because MySpace has become "a passive agressive way of saying 'you fucked up again.'"  Good thing I've got all these crazy bloggy whatnots. 

And someday, he'll find this.  And he may or may not hate me because of it.

I don't want the picture of me in your favorite laid back outfit of mine, that I just threw out mind you, back.  I don't want 'goodnight's.  I just didn't want you out of my life, is all.  Don't get drunk and horny and then come looking for me. Not gonna work.  You & I ... just not happenin'.  There's too much spite, too much anger, too much hate left floating around for things to be good again.  Sure, some part of me wishes that weren't true...the other part knows it's just the way it has to be.  So don't leave my life.  Just don't expect to be 'with' me again.... I told you it'd be too late.  You said, "what'll be too late?"  I just sighed.  Y'know, we probably couldn't even handle 'good friends' right now either. Even 'friends' seems like a bit of a stretch.

I like knowing you're there.  Like I liked knowing James was.  But what confuses me so is that now that you're my "baggage," James is no longer considered such.  And I can't tell if it's because he & I (and the bitch, Salina) had that falling out, or because the hole in my heart has been replaced by the hole in my heart that yearns for you.  I don't know, but I do know I don't plan on finding out. 

Maybe it's all my fault...for telling you about the song.  The song that mysteriously found its way to me the other night and has become my MySpace song.  Sure, it's got everything to do with you.  But it kind of doesn't at the same time.  It's a nice concept to think about, it not being over, but really--who knows?  "A part of me is dead and in the ground."  No joke.

We're  not ready yet.  To even try to swing friends.  Trust me, I wish we were.  We're just not.  Pay me back, first.  Start there.  Most of my friends are responsible...let's see if you can join them.

Mine? Sure. I'm lonely. Lonely in a way that the people I turn to hardly ever are not there. Rob is ... unresponsive. Libby is ... also unresponsive. James is ... not exactly one of the people I like turning to, but not there either. Scott wants to know if everything is okay. I just wish I knew him enough to be able to call him and have it be okay to cry. Because that's just how it would be right now. Should anyone ask me what's wrong, or if I'm okay, I'm almost positive I would burst into tears.

Lonliness.

My grandmother died January 2005. My grandfather has been miserable ever since. He seemed to be getting worse, so my father up & moved him to his house, had an extension added and made him his own apartment, decently sized. Today, for the first time since he moved in (May 15), I visited. And I heard horror stories of how he has begun to "lose it" (from my father & stepmother). When I went into his bedroom, he was slumped over in his chair, sleeping. Apparently, he sleeps all day and is up most of the night. He doesn't do anything else.

He was finally up around 8 so I stopped in. I made the mistake of walking in with the light off. He had no idea who I was or what I was saying. I said, "It's Linda." He said, "Huh? Finger?" So I put the light on and it took him a minute to realize it was me. Then he asked me what I was doing there. Like to see my family couldn't have been an option.

I think he tries to be strong for me. Like when you're drunk and a cop pulls you over and suddenly you have to act your sober-ist. I show up and he has to be most coherant. He apologized. He said he should be dead. He mumbled about losing some things but finding them. About having the countertop and kitchen installed. Lucky for me, my father told me the actual stories earlier.

He's always slouched. Now, he's officially hump-backed. His back hurts. He doesn't know why. He's all sorts of screwed up and heading to the doctor tomorrow. My father says if he knew he would debilitate this quickly, he would have left him in his own house and not put himself through 5 months of hell.

The best part is that I know how he feels. I hate imposing upon anyone, for anything. It's a twisted method for avoiding rejection. Don't ask, can't be denied. So just be independent. But the strongest man I know has just been reduced to the least strong man I know. We're mortal. And life is damn short.

My grandpa and I were never really close ... but I never loved him any less.

Vegas was supposed to be the best thing for me. And up until I got home, it was. I never really understood the concept of vacation until now. Escape from reality. No work, no family, no relationships...hell, no sobriety. I'm sorry and scared to say I am only truly happy (or is it falsely?) when I am drunk. Not just drinking, but fully drunk. There's too much room for error otherwise. I might text Rob, or call him, or cry until I turn an unhealthy shade of purple. Fact of the matter is I want nothing more in this world than my Rob back. I write this here because I know he won't read it. I don't need his pity, and I don't need him thinking I'm writing it for him. So, figurative Rob, this one is for you. And who knows, maybe after it's out some of the misery will subside.

So about this drinking problem. It's just that. A problem. That I certainly do not want to rectify. If I can only make it through to Fridays I can get to the point where I live in a happy bubble where everyone is my friend and loves me. When the truth is no one does. Or maybe just not the people that I need love from. My dad, Rob, at one time or another James. Worst of all...me. I guess I'll never be loved, will I? If the old cliche is accurate, I'm doomed until I learn to love myself. Damn. I wonder if that day will ever come.

Karma got me. Two years ago I thought I understood why Rob lived at the bottom of a bottle. Now I know. Half of me wishes I had his willpower. To be friends, to silently love him, to stay away and let him do what he needs to do, date who he wants, and be me in the interim, gaining my strength from whatever bottle is nearest. The other half wants nothing more than to live 80,000 miles away.

I beat myself up every...single...day. If he thinks I am not being punished for what I did, it's just because I don't show him that part. I cry. A lot. I think. Too much. I am sad. Always.

I don't know what to do. My heart believes that he is doing the same. Strength from a bottle, false happiness, failing and falling farther away. Pride a driving force. Memories of everything I put him through, not of what we shared. But my head fears I am all wrong. That he is fine, that he is prosperous and happy. That he wants nothing to do with me. And I remember the last time I felt exactly like this. Christmas 2001. Sitting on the floor of my room while Jen got ready. In my peach dress, on the phone with James. Crying. Bawling. Feeling my heart break. In pain that is indescribable. And I swore I would never get that involved with anyone ever again. So I hesitated to be in my relationship with Rob. But he loved me so much he had faith, and hope, and enough of each to carry us both as far as ... well, a year. They ran out. He didn't see past what I did to him, he resented. And he hated me. And he hates me. And I hate me. And I cry. And I hurt.

Libby will call this weakness. I call it truth. Acknowledgement. I don't want to be proud and I don't want to deny myself anything.

My God, Rob, I am so sorry. I miss you. "A little too much, a little too often, a little more every day."

God damn him.

Maybe it's the hopelessness of the entire situation that makes my heart skip a beat, even when he just says "hi."

Annoying.

Really annoying.

~L~

I've been on some soul-searching mission these past few months and I'm starting to see who I really am. The people I used to get along with so well are starting to share opposing views and it seems I don't really *know* them any more. Maybe they're growing up. Or maybe I am. I'm not a "go out & party"er. Once & while is nice with some friends, but on a frequent basis is overbearing. I'm really not a smoker. I think television is stupid. Sex is dumb. Love bites, but can create amazing feelings. Family is important. Fighting is strenuous and not worth the time. Being a jackass is for teenagers. Greed is pathetic.

Just things that run through my mind. I have no actual "thought process" on anything right now, but I definitely needed to get those things out.

Love,
~L~

Gross, isn't it?

"What this marriage needs is one less husband." -Wash ("I am a leaf on the wind" ::sniff sniff:: "watch me soar")

If I say my going to bed mad will result in hell, trust me. I went to bed mad last night because someone "let" me. Enter hell.

DUH

It just makes more sense for me to permanently keep my mouth closed. What is the point of expressing your feelings if they're just going to be ignored? No one likes a disagreement, but does that mean the answer is not to try to talk it out and feel better all around?

Damned if I do, damned if I don't. About to become my new mantra.

Have I sighed recently?

~LK~

So I'm sitting here, AT Wells Fargo Financial, wishing I was ANYWHERE else. Seriously, this working on Saturday b/s has got to stop. No joke. I made this deal with my mother that I wouldn't say anything until the next time this happens. But that's letting 2 occurrances slide, not just the one. Oh well, he doesn't listen to my arguments anyway. It's just "blah blah blah, my job, wahhh this and wahhh that. It's (get this) not like we're married or have kids or anything." Holy fucking shit, batman.

No I will NOT get a helmet, CT. This is my life. And I'm not living it on Rob's job's back burner.

Weekdays are one thing; some days ya just gotta work late (trust me-I know! I've spent too many a night cleaning Alex's desk for 2 hours). But weekends...now that's strictly home time. A Saturday slip-up every few months is understandable, sometimes it even gives me a chance to play catch-up at work if I have to (or, do something sneaky of course ::wink, wink::), but that's the extent of the tolerance in my world. I can give up most of my control with regard to this. I mean, I kind of have to, even though no one said I had to do it without being disappointed or unhappy. But weekends, they're OURS.

Now if I could just get him to see this.

::sigh:: What else is new? Any ideas people out there?????

~LK~