I've Been So Busy...

I'm sorry!

Not that I'm deluding myself in order to create this false world where people actually read this word vomit that I dare to call a blog.

But just in case, I'm sorry!

I've been so busy student teaching and trying to sort out my obvious boy problems. So I have a really bad habit of finding guys who are absolutely shit for me and giving them everything I have before they agree to at least give me a chance. And I get thrown away because even though I'm willing to give guys everything I can emotionally, I'm unwilling to throw my body at them just as easily. And what I've learned from my experiences with boys, or I guess I should say men, is that they're okay with emotional connections, but they'd really like to be able to stick their penises in at least one female orifice as well, and preferably before said emotional connection. And since my legs stay crossed and my mouth is used for more productive activities I'm no longer desirable. And then they have the audacity to say it's because I'm too fat or too this or too that instead of saying I'm not easy enough.

So they move on, and I'm stuck because I've tried to build this emotional connection first in order to be respected and I can't let it go as easily as they let go of me. But I'm not respected. I'm used and taken advantage of until they realize I won't put out and then it's not worth it. I'd really like to find a man who doesn't have sex as quickly as possible as the endgame to all their relationships with women who aren't related to them. And...

I think I found him.

But I'm not sure, and his best friend is dead set on keeping us apart. He even went so far as to say that his friend didn't like fat chicks, so I wouldn't have a chance anyway. I'm not stupid; I know he's aware that I'm interested in his friend. I also know that he doesn't want me anywhere near him because I finally stopped being so easy to manipulate, and he's done a damn good job of it so far. It's hard to try to build personal connections when the person you want is more than 1,000 miles away from you and doesn't get regular breaks to come home. Such is the life of a military man, I guess.

But I'm not sure if this person is the man I think he is. I've only met him twice, but he's been SO FUCKING NICE. And I'm not head over heels for him like I normally am with everyone else. I haven't built him up in my mind. He's different from every other man I've ever wanted to call mine. And that's kinda scary because I'm not sure what to expect. My lack of obsession could be a really good thing. All my friends think so, anyway. And I want so badly to believe that they're right. But it could also mean that it's not really there. And the only way I'll find out is to try.

I don't want to try only to be shut down again. I'm getting sick of making the first move. It's never worked out, and it takes me a while to get over it and be able to look at myself without seeing all my flaws. And I don't want to go through that right now, so I'm trying to remain objective but also not close myself off from what could potentially be THE relationship I've been looking for. Ugh.

And I've been thinking about it for three days because on Friday I'm heading home, and he'll be there on leave from the Marine Corps, and maybe we'll see each other. I hope we do, at any rate. And I'm kind of scared shitless, which is a feat, considering how regular I am. So I shake when I think about him and seeing him again and my stomach hurts and I can't breathe deeply and...the list goes on.

So, any ideas? Should I try, or should I wait until he's back for good? And is the fact that he's different from everyone else good or bad? I have no fucking clue, so if any of you out there have any advice, I'm all ears. Seriously. Hit me with your best shot.

Later my loves.

SO I DID THIS THING

WHERE I LEFT MY NUMBER FOR THIS WAITER AT TGI FRIDAY'S AND HE TEXTED ME AND NOW WE'RE TALKING AND I THINK HE WANTS A BOOTY CALL BUT I DON'T ROLL THAT WAY...

That needed to be in all caps, for some reason. So anyway...help? I don't know what to do about any of this shit.

My Argument Style Is Confusing

I just had an argument with my sister that solved absolutely nothing.

You know those days where you just want to fight with someone? Apparently today was that day for me. I'm blindingly pissed off, for no real reason. Well, I have a reason.

I feel like some people close to me are subtly telling me they disapprove of my choice to become a teacher. First it was my mother, who just doesn't get it, I don't think. She doesn't see the validity of student teaching. It's a class, so she has to pay for it. But she doesn't want to pay for it. She calls it a rip off and a blatant abuse of power by colleges everywhere. Just another ploy to squeeze money out of every person who comes through their doors as dewey-eyed freshmen and leave abused and disillusioned. In her mind, that's what it is. In mine, student teaching is a rite of passage, and a noble one at that. It's a point of pride that I get to student teach, and Mom is bitching about paying for it. It's the last fucking thing I have to do before I become a real teacher and start doing what I've wanted to do since I was in 3rd grade. Just shut up and do it. Please.

And now it's my sister, who says that my ethics training is bullshit. I've been learning about the line all teachers have to be aware of. You know, the one between them and students. There is quite clearly a line, and that line says this, "TEACHERS CANNOT BE FRIENDS WITH THEIR STUDENTS." Guess what? It's unethical and confusing to students, who will then see those teachers as not authority figures, but glorified teenagers like themselves. And then those teachers will lost their ability to teach those students. The line will be blurred, and then everything gets confusing. Teachers are guardians of their students while they're in school. Not friends, not people to get romantically involved with. Guardians responsible for their well-being. So excuse the fuck out of me for saying that a teacher who blurs this line needs to be reported. News flash: THAT'S WHAT I, AS A TEACHER, AM SUPPOSED TO DO. Oops, did you not learn that? That's right, you aren't learning diddly shit because you don't know what the fuck you want to do.

God, that pisses me off. Just because she likes this stupid ass teacher, I've crossed a line by saying that the relationship she has with two or more of her current students is inappropriate, because it is, my training is worthless. Fuck you, I've worked hard for this shit. I know what I'm talking about, and that teacher knows what she's doing is wrong. Why else would she ask her students to keep it a secret? Students don't go out to dinner with their teachers, no matter how cool they are. They don't then go to that teacher's house to visit. Definitely against the rules. And I love the two students I'm talking about. They're smart kids, and I know nothing untoward is happening. Hopefully, anyway. But they are not only endangering themselves by having an inappropriate relationship with a teacher. They are endangering that teacher as well. This can only end in disaster. Eventually someone will find out, and they'll tell others, and bad things will happen. That teacher can lose her job. Those students can get in serious trouble, and their grades can be brought into question. They could fail that class, possibly have to repeat a grade. And with them so close to graduation, I don't want to see that happen.

My anger is borne out of a concern for everyone invovled. Not because I have an axe to grind with that teacher, who isn't my favorite, I admit. I don't think she should be a teacher because of her tendency to develop inappropriate relationships with her students. This isn't the first time she's done this, and it won't be the last. Students are not potential friends. They are students, and teachers have to treat them as such.

So don't tell me my ethics training is bullshit. Go to college for four years, work as hard as I have, and then tell me my ethics training is bullshit if you still disagree. Until  you've poured your sweat and tears into a degree and a dream the way I have, you don't get to tell me I'm full of shit.

Well, I feel better. I'm going to play some more Sudoku.

Ta, loves.

For The Man In California...

I miss you. Please come home soon so I can see your face and make sure you're okay. I don't like thinking that you could get hurt or shipped out to God knows where to fight a battle that should be over by now.

Come home alive. Please.


.......


So that's for him. Been thinking about him all this week, and I wanted to get this out there. He'll never read it, but it makes me feel better knowing that someone else is thinking about him too. And maybe even adding their prayers to mine?

This wasn't a very happy post. Or a very rant-ish one. But it could just be the most raw one I've written.

Later, my sweet readers.

Sick Blogging

I have a fucking cold. Fuck this. Just fuck all of it. I feel like shit.

I also feel crappy because today marks the one year anniversary of Wyndi's death. Wyndi, as I'm sure none of you are aware, is Dylan's mother. For reference, Dylan is my brother from another mother, but seriously. Anyway, Wyndi was a lovely woman. I hate using past tense verbs for her, because I forget sometimes that she's gone and I like to believe that, when I remember that she's lying in the dirt in a graveyard, she's still with all of us here on earth, just not bodily. But I guess it'll be easier for everyone if I use past tense in regard to her. I find it important, however, to just say that I think she's still here.

Wyndi was an awesome person. The first impression I had of her was not a positive one, but I was helping her son move out, so I see why she was angry at me. Luckily that didn't last long, and we grew to be friends. She was hilarious, and after spending a few days with her, I learned where Dylan got his sense of humor. She always made me laugh when I was having a crappy day.

Though she was funny, she was also serious when needed, and uncompromisingly, captivatingly kind to me. When my grandmother died, she set up a place for me to record a song for her funeral. That simple act meant more to me than I ever expressed to her, or anyone really. She always did stuff like that, and she was genuinely interested in what I was doing up at college. There are so many things I want to say, but I don't have enough grace to express it the way it needs to be expressed. Let's just say that Wyndi was truly one of a kind, will always be missed, and can never be replaced.

Anyway...

So I'm sick and today is the one year anniversary of Wyndi's death and I don't know how to help Dylan through it or how to help myself through it, quite frankly. (Side note: my hamster just walked all over my keyboard, but was too light to write anything.) After Wyndi, I got super depressed and quit eating or hanging out with anyone, generally. It wasn't a fun time for anyone, and all my plans for the year got kinda fucked when Dylan stayed at home instead of returning to Graceland. He had to look after Kody, his little brother, and I get it. I don't hate or condemn him because of his decision. But all my plans got fucked, and I had to reconstruct my year's expectations quickly, along with cope with my recent loss. The road was long and hard and I backpedaled a few times before I got to where I am now.

I won't lie and say I think of Wyndi all the time, when a breeze comes across my face or I'm walking alone down a country road, or some other Hollywood version of dealing with a loss. I don't think of her often. But sometimes I do, and it doesn't hurt anymore. Well, not as much. I miss her, but I'll miss her forever. I wish she was here, but I'll never stop that, nor will I want to. I'm better, but Dylan's not, and I don't know how to help. I find that writing helps me. I don't do it often enough, obviously. I mean, this blog hasn't been updated in at least a month. But it's here when I need to let off steam or waste an hour or any other use this blog has for me. Maybe Dylan's outlet can be spending time with Kody. That, or Tumblr. He loves Tumblr, man.

Anyway, I guess the point of this blog post was to make me feel better, and it has accomplished its purpose. I will now go read some slash. For those of you who don't know what that is, pray you never get sucked into it. It's seriously addicting stuff.

Ta, loves.

Angry Blogging

The great thing about having a blog to rant in is that when your brother is being a dickhead you can go to it and rant, and be positive that he won't look at it. But also know that if he does look at it, it's not your fault he reads what you wrote about him.

It's not even a real reason to be fighting. I got defensive because I didn't want to read Game of Thrones even though my friend recommended it, and he called me a hypocrite. I generally don't like being forced or pressured into reading a certain book. Reading is an escape for me and if I feel like I have to do it, it loses the magic for me a little bit. That being said, I do plan on reading Game of Thrones, but I'm not in the mood right now. So I put it away and I'll return to it when I feel like it. There.

But my brother doesn't get it, because let's be honest: my feelings about book recommendations are weird. I fully understand that, but it is what it is, and when someone attacks the way I handle things I get naturally defensive, as would most people. So I didn't like that he was judging me because I shared with him my feelings on book recommending. I thought he'd already figured it out, because he tried to get me to read The Fault In Our Stars and I waited for a full month before I picked it up. When I finally did read it, I found I loved it. It took me a month to read it, though, because he kept popping into my room when I was reading another book and making half-joking comments about how I had a perfectly good book to read that he was (im)patiently waiting for me to read. So I stopped myself from reading it out of spite for a few days. I'm not proud of it, but I really hate being pressured to read things. I'll get to it on my own time, on my own terms. Rushing me isn't going to help and could quite possibly impact what I think of the book in the end.

So I thought he would understand, but he called me a hypocrite because I push movies onto everyone. Which I feel is uncalled for. Books and movies are two different things in my mind. Movies don't have the same value to me as books do, so it's a completely different ball game. I'll take movie recommendations all damn day, and love every one of them in the end. I have really shitty taste in movies, in that I typically love all movies. So anyway, books are one thing and movies are another. Again, I am aware of the fact that this is weird, but it's the way I am and no amount of judgment is going to change that. So he called me a hypocrite because I pushed movies onto people and hated getting books pushed onto me. And I find that untrue. So I got pissed at him and quit talking to him, because really, once he decides he's right about something there's no backing him down off the ledge he's found himself on. Which is exactly how I react, so it's a barrel of fun when we basically have to deal with ourselves when we fight.

And he put a passive aggressive post on his Tumblr. So I'm blogging about it here. I'm not a hypocrite because I don't like having books pushed on me. I don't mind getting book recommendations, actually. I just hate it when people push and push and push me to read them. I get it. The book's really good and you want to share it. I'll read it, but you have to let me approach it my way. It might take a bit, but eventually I'll get to it, and I'll tell you all about it when I'm done. And I don't push movies on others too often. If I do, and they get annoyed, they tell me and I back off. So no, I don't see myself as a hypocrite, and my brother doesn't understand that. He just gets pissed off and decides he's right and treats me with contempt and I don't want to deal with it so I shut it down and remove myself from the situation. Which pisses him off like nothing else, because it creates tension. But it's how I calm myself down, and he can fucking deal. When he comes to talk to me after, the conversation can go really well or create more shit. If he comes in with this pretentious attitude and asks if we're done with the fight, I say yes and keep my answers short, because really. I remove myself to get away from your attitude and you bring it into my room under the pretense of seeking a truce. I won't react positively. So that will piss him off and he'll leave me alone. If he comes in and he doesn't have any attitude, I won't bristle and  we'll get over it. Guess which one he chose tonight?

So we haven't resolved it, unfortunately. I hate going to bed upset, but I'm not going to talk to him about it anymore. He mocked my perceptions, and though I readily admit that I'm strange with books and movies, it's my fucking perception and if you don't like it you can fuck off, thank you very much. You don't have to understand or agree with what I think, but you don't get to judge me because of it.

Anyway, a short note about my love life. Found a potential someone. Unfortunately, he's in the armed services and won't be discharged for a while, so I'll have to content myself with the few weeks he has on leave to get to know him. But he's super nice and makes me smile and I like it.

That's it. Off to bed.

Night, loves.

I Looked At My Overview Today...

And people actually read my blog. I was running under the assumption that no one actually read it and I was just word vomiting into the Internet with no one being the wiser.

But that's not the case.

So...hi! I hope this blog isn't really really boring like I'm afraid it is. And don't be afraid to comment on my blog. In fact, please do, to let me know you're out there.

Anyway, on to what I was originally going to post about.

I have found myself at a crossroads. Well, not a crossroads, really. More like an impossible situation. See, I hate liars, but I myself am one. A liar in the sense that if someone asks me a question that hits too close to my emotions I'll hide it. Perfect example: my brother asked me if I still liked this one guy, and I said no, but he knew I was lying and I knew he knew I was lying. I didn't want to talk about it, so I lied and closed the conversation down.

So I do that from time to time, and I can't find the will to stop. BUT, and here's the bad part, I hate liars. Especially ones who say they don't want to do anything, but really mean they don't want to do anything with me. Yeah, okay dude, I get that you want to watch movies with your completely wrong for you girlfriend. You might even get some special sexy time out of it, but I don't like being brushed off. If you don't want to do anything with me, just fucking say it. Don't say you're tired or don't like watching movies often, only to turn around and spend all night watching movies. News flash: I can actually connect the dots and figure out you're a lying sack of shit. I'm smart that way. That's probably why I have a college degree and you're still technically a sophomore, even though you're my age. That and I'm dedicated to getting out of school and starting work.

Maybe you just don't want to lose me as that person you hang out with when no one else has time or wants to hang out. Sorry babe, that's not who I am. I can actually be engaging and funny. Ask my friends who miss me because I graduated and came back home. They'll gladly take my invitations to hang out. In fact, they're pretty damn jealous that you live close enough to me to visit and aren't taking advantage.

I don't care why you do it, I just hate it when you lie.

So my problem is this. I am a liar myself, but I hate being lied to. I can't justify my anger because I'm guilty of the same thing you are, but I'm still almost crazy with how much I have. Anger, that is. I can't get rid of it as easily as I thought I would be able to. And the anger is already simmering down into another layer of slimy black crap, the stuff you find on the bottom of a pan that hasn't been washed in who knows how long. It stays there, and gets even harder with every heating, making it that much harder to clean off. That is my anger. It's been ignited so much I'm not sure I can clean it off. And I'm conflicted because I'm being a hypocrite. I condemn you for the same thing I do. Which I don't like. I would prefer to just be angry at you without doubting the validity of my anger.

So, moving on. I'm a hypocrite and I don't like it, but I'm still angry as piss at you. And for the record, I'm a wonderful person, a statement that can be backed up by several others, and am a viable candidate for the amorous attentions of a young man. I'm not sure why I still haven't found someone to take me up on my offer. Maybe it's because I never leave my house, choosing instead to swim in my pool and read in my hot tub, occasionally interact with others, and read an alarming amount of fan fiction while watching loads of movies and shows. I also have a proclivity for lounging around in various states of undress.

Well, this blog post has turned out to be a bit longer than I thought it would. Before I forget, I have another disclaimer. If, as a reader of this blog, you know who I am and have a concern that you might be the subject of a blog post, don't mention it to me. If I haven't said anything to you, chances are I don't want to talk about it with you.

I'm going to go to bed so I can wake up and go to church.

Ta, loves.

Blogging on a Monday Night...

Is actually something I find enjoyable. I'm also not doing anything else. I'm actually bored out of my mind. Hopefully I'll be hanging out with someone in a bit, but that still might fall through.

Hold on...

I had to change my music. I can't listen to new music when I blog, because I get distracted. Anyway, I'm doing absolutely nothing with all my free time. I sit around all day and watch movies, or read, or play video games. It's quite sad, actually. I hate being so inactive.

And I'm definitely still fixating on my lack of a boyfriend. It's manifesting itself in weird ways. For example, I had a dream last night about going to a concert and being picked up by a member of the band I was watching. I refrain from telling you which band because I actually have dignity, and I don't want to give it up just yet. But the point is I really want a boyfriend. Or someone to fool around with. Nah...a boyfriend.

And it suuuuuuuuuuucks. I don't want to think about it anymore.

On another note, I found out someone I've been friends with forever has a crush on me. It was dropped on me quite unexpectedly, and I'm glad I was already on my way to getting drunk. I'd've definitely needed a drink if I hadn't already ordered one. So now I'm avoiding that friend, and feeling kinda bad about it. Is this what all my other friends felt like when they found out I liked them? I totally see where they were coming from now. I just want to call all of them and apologize for how I made them feel.

So I'll try to be better about that in the future. And also I'll try to keep my friend from pursuing those feelings for me. I've been avoiding placing a gender on this friend, but who am I kidding? It's a girl. It's always going to be a girl. I'm just more appealing to them, for some reason. And it's not that I'm straight. I prefer to think of myself as open, because I'm attracted to boys and girls. Of course, I like boys a lot more, but it's whatever. If it's right, it's right.

But I don't want to make her feel weird, just make it clear that I'm not interested. I'll try to think of a way to do that, but I'm not going to sit down with her and tell her. That would be really awkward. Only if she pushes it. Then I'll face it. I'm crossing my fingers for that to not happen, however. If I never have a conversation with her about it, I'll be happy.

Anyway, that's enough for one blog post.

Kisses.

Well This Is Awkward...

I haven't posted in forever, and now the layout is all weird. It took me five minutes to find how to get to this point, to be honest. Something I'm not proud of.

Anyway, I'm back! I'm safely ensconced in my home once more, pondering the mysteries of the universe. Or, to narrow it down a bit, why I don't have a boyfriend. It's not something that keeps my mind occupied for very long though. I don't seem to care too much about my lack of a love life.

This is a change from earlier, when I said I was looking at a few people and excruciatingly constructed posts about some random ass dude I thought I was in love with. Still might be, but who's worried about that? Not me, that's for sure.

I'm too busy having fun and not doing school work. It's weird not being in school over the summer. This is the first summer I've had off since I was a junior in high school. I've been lazing around all day, not doing anything.

Anyway, this was just a test run post for me to see how I feel about blogging still. I feel pretty good about it, so I think I'll take it up again.

Ta, loves.

So After That Disastrous Easter Weekend Conversation...

We haven't talked in 13 days. That's the longest we've ever gone not talking. So I guess that's your sign to me. You've given up on us. And that's okay.

I wasn't ready to give up. I wanted to try again. I thought all I said was doing both of us good. But I think now that the only person it did any good for was me. I was finally completely honest with myself and with you. And you couldn't deal. So you let me go.

And I don't know how to feel. I think I'm worth fighting for, bad side and all. So you giving up on me is you saying that you're not worth my time. I thought you could be, if only you'd grow up.

But you gave up on me. And that changes everything.

My Resolve Shattered

I texted him. I admit, I'm not proud of myself, but the result was interesting.

We talked a bit, he said he missed me, and then talked about how bored he was. The reaction I immediately had was to remind him that I was going to be home next weekend, but something stopped me. I spent several hours in the magical city of Des Moines, and it was only on the way how from my afternoon that I began to get mad. Who was he to tell me he was bored? Was I supposed to fix it for him? Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Why would he tell me that if it weren't to try to manipulate me further?

So I told him to hang out with his slut if he was so bored. He'd already chosen her over me, so she could be the one to assuage his boredom. He didn't get it, naturally. I don't know why I thought he would. He said he hung out with someone else, and that he was living life. This is when I became a bitch. I asked him how that was any different from any other day of his life. Was he not living before? He said what he meant was that he was being himself, and I again posed the same question. Was he not being himself before? He said he was out of it. I said it sounded like it. He sent back "Lol," which is one of the most annoying things he does, so I said "Yeah, okay," and stopped texting back.

I'm such an idiot. I want him to understand why I'm so mad without having to tell him. I didn't want to spend the last day of my break with him and two of his new friends. I didn't know them, and I just wanted to say goodbye to him. That's all. Not say goodbye to him in front of two people I didn't know, but goodbye to him by myself so I could do it right. And I didn't get to and he doesn't see why I'm upset and why I have a right to be upset.

So I made it all worse by texting him because I'm still mad and now he's confused because he doesn't think he did anything wrong. And arguably, he didn't do anything wrong. It just felt wrong to me, and I'd hoped he'd see that I wouldn't like it. But he didn't and I expected too much and now I'm disappointed and he has no clue what's wrong with me. I probably look crazy to him. I look crazy to me,  too.

The Counter-Post To The Previous One

I used to sit around crying.

Not anymore.

I was treated to yet another parade of here's-every-person-I-like-that's-not-you. On the last day of my spring break, no less. It was precious, and this time I couldn't leave because he drove me to our little get together. So I sat there for an hour and a half, rubbing bruises into the palms of my hands and trying not to tell her to her face what an idiot she sounded like. On top of that, I smelled like a damn chimney because he and she were partaking in the sacred pastime of smoking around an asthmatic person. The asthmatic person was me, of course, so it was fun.

After this lovely escapade, the ride to his house was excruciating. He kept asking me if something was wrong and if I was okay. The fact that he had to ask only further solidified my newfound idea that he truly was a dumb ass and not worth my time for reals. He knew why I was upset and I knew he knew, but he was too much of a pussy to tell me straight that he knew what was wrong. I was pouting, I'll admit. I knew this was going to happen because he's been given numerous chances to pursue a relationship with me and had chosen to abstain. So he should have slapped me upside my fool head and told me there was nothing there. But he let me choke myself on the rope of hope he gave me. He didn't do anything, just let me believe a lie. And didn't see anything wrong with it. That's when I decided to stop it once and for all.

We said goodbye briefly and awkwardly. His new slut was waiting less than ten feet away, ready to go inside with him. Oh, did I mention why I call her his slut? No? Well it's because a part of the conversation we had in that hellhole of a restaurant was about how much they had been having sex and all the hickeys she left on his body. That was probably my favorite part of the conversation. Anyway, we said goodbye. He gave me one final hug and I let myself smell his amazing cologne one more time, knowing it would forever remind me of him. He desperately asked me to text him when I got home, sensing my withdrawl. I, being the sap I am, said yes to keep him from feeling any pain when he was so obviously getting ready to spend the night with his slut. But I didn't mean it, and I didn't text him when I got home. In fact, I haven't texted him since.

It's time to focus on how I can get over him. Because I'm done with waiting, but that doesn't mean I don't want him anymore. I still do, and frequently ponder whether or not I really want to sever my contact with him until I get my shit together. The answer is always the same though. I'm not going back to being his friend until it's all I want from him. I'm not going to destroy myself anymore for him.

So it's with a light heart that I now turn to the man who has captured my interest. The one who likes to read and is actually me in male form. It's time to give him a chance, and if nothing comes of it we'll at least be good friends. I put him on hold foolishly because of new information that came to light. But that information is no longer relevant, so I'm closing that book and opening a new one with a fresh, blank page that smells like the really good books do. You know, like paper and not the chemicals they treat it with now. That smell that is only found in the older books. It's time to write a new story, this time with a happy ending.

I feel the need to point out that this is all from my point of view. I don't know who's reading this, but please don't take this as fact. It is fact in my opinion, but there is always another side to a story and unfortunately the only person who knows it is the one I'm writing about. So keep in mind that this is all me, no one else.

I Just Want To Cry

I'm tired. I'm so tired.

I'm in love with someone who doesn't love me back. And I'm trying not to let it get in the way of a new relationship that looks like it has merit. But I can't separate myself from this. Everything feels wrong when it's not about him. And when it is about him, I'm eternally disappointed because it's not the way I want it to be. I want him to love me back just as much as I want to not love him anymore.

He's not who I'd imagined I'd want to be with. And my world is fine. I'm fine. I have no reason to be crying...but I am. And he's not who I wanted to end up with. He isn't even someone I thought I'd be attracted. He's immature and he's annoying and his jokes aren't funny. And I'm not with him. But I want to be, and I shouldn't want to be. Somehow, someway, he got in under my radar. I turned around and there he was, already at home in my mind. He's not my ideal man, not even close. But he's perfect for me and I want him.

But I can't watch him go through girls and be the supportive friend he thinks I am. I can't do it anymore. And it hurts because the day I tell him I can't do it will be the day he turns away and walks out of my life.

I shouldn't care about this. He's rude and he's not worth my time. He's everything I'm not. My siblings don't want me to care, and I've tried. I've tried so hard. But I can't stop loving him. And it makes me pathetic. I look so silly waiting for something that will never happen. But I can't pull myself away. And I just want to cry.

Because I Haven't Been Blogging Enough Lately

I'm doing another one. I know, three in a week is a little extreme, even for me. But there you go. It seems that I've got quite a bit floating around in my mind.

So this guy...I feel like I'm irrationally excited. I don't know if he thinks I'm a cool person too, though I assume he does because we're still talking. And I'm happy that I found someone with the same interests as me. But do I want to travel down this road? I feel like I should. I've been telling everyone of my friends how excited I am to meet him, and I am. I really am. But why am I excited?

I can't tell. I've been talking to Peyton for one week and I can tell we're going to be good friends, if not more. But I've still got someone else in the back of my mind, and I think about him when I least expect it. Like today, I woke up and immediately thought about Peyton. But I was sitting here, doing nothing, and that boy back home popped up. This was made even more strange by the fact that he texted me right after he appeared in my mind.

I can't stop thinking about how he feels about my interest in this new man. The loud, girl power part of my brain demands that I stop thinking. He had his chance, and he blew it. He asked me to give him a chance and give him time to get to know me, only to hop in bed with the next girl to come along. And I wasn't even the girl he chose after he broke up with that one. And now all he says he wants is a purely sexual relationship. Which is kind of a dick thing to say. So I should be done with him.

But the other part of my brain that doesn't have control over my mouth and what I say to others keeps casting doubt on my decision. Why would he tell me he wants a purely sexual relationship after spending two weeks lamenting on his lost love and claiming that sex means something more to him than a physical release? And he told me this lovely tidbit of information after I told him about Peyton.

So he could be doing two things: revealing his true dick head nature, or posturing to cover the hurt he feels that I'm no longer waiting for him. I want with all my heart to believe that option one is true, but I can't shake the feeling that option two has merit. Either way, I don't want him to be hurt and I still care about him, which is casting doubt on my rush to meet Peyton.

We have a lot in common. There's no doubt about that. But why does that suddenly appeal to me, when just a few months ago I was trying to find someone who wasn't like me? Am I a drowning man, grabbing onto whatever I can reach to pull myself out of the whirlpool that is my feelings for this boy at home? Do I really want to pursue something with Peyton, or is this a friends-only situation?

I don't know, and I wish my brain would shut up and give me some relief. I don't want this to be a big deal anymore. I don't want to over think this to death. I want this sick feeling in my stomach to go away. I want to take a nap. Yeah, I think I'll do that.

The Moment When You Find Someone Just Like You...

And he's not gay. HE'S NOT GAY.

He loves Shakespeare right along with me. He loves Disney movies. We both read anything and everything we can get our hands on.

I never thought I'd find someone like him. Ever. I thought my Prince Charming played video games and liked to brood. It turns out he was just another crush. A serious crush, mind you, but I'm listening to sappy love songs and his face isn't in my mind anymore.

Which doesn't mean I don't like him anymore. I still do. But he's not here and he didn't wait for me. This new man is actually a man and shares the same interests that I do. He's mature and spends his days around books. We can have intellectual conversations. The list goes on...

I can't keep my insides from glowing. I can't stop smiling when I think about him. And we're meeting this weekend. I thought I was the only person like me in the whole world. And I've been joyously proven wrong.

Thank you God for putting this man in my life. I was starting to lose hope.

Just When I Thought I'd Have To Wait Forever For You...

Someone came right up and stole your spot. I mean, I've spent so much time waiting for you to realize I'm in front of you, patiently holding up my list of reasons why you should date me. I never thought I'd find someone better than you, but...

I mean, he's into DISNEY. He loves reading. He works in a library. And he's recommended by a viable mutual friend. Plus he's nice and we have lots to talk about and he's mature. Which is nice. I'm going to meet him this weekend, and I have a feeling it will all go better than I hope it will.

And you're finally looking at me, but I think you're too late. I think I'm looking at something better than you can give me, and I think I'm going to take it.

So, sorry you've finally pulled your head out of your ass. I don't want to crush you, but I'm not waiting for you like you thought I would be. Better luck next time, kid.

FUCK THIS

Fuck all of this. I fucking hate everything.

You go be a teenager with your teenage friends and leave me out of it. I'm not your sister. I'm the girl who's tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and see what's in front of you. It's me. I've been here forever.

So you go. Go be a teenager. Grow up. Or don't. Just quit gushing to me about how happy you are. I'm not happy for you. I just want my heart back, and you're keeping it hostage.

So fuck this. And fuck you.

I'm Falling In Love...

With Shakespeare. It's not like I wasn't already in love with him. But...it's getting worse.

I'm doing research for my senior project, which just so happens to be on Macbeth and Titus Andronicus. Not that I planned that or anything.

Anyway, this man is beautiful. His insights on the human psyche are beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe he MADE us human. Maybe he just wrote about it. Maybe he didn't mean to do anything but make money. Regardless of what he meant to do, he has touched my life with his works, and I love him.

And I'm blogging about him instead of doing my homework, which is due tomorrow morning, and awaiting a phone call. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that it's almost 1 in the morning, but that's typically how Steven and I operate. Late night/early morning calls are our specialty. Anyway, I'm going to wrap this blog post up so I can at least try to finish my homework before he calls and I get caught up in talking to him and making fun of his gooberish behavior.

Farewell, dedicated readers.

If there are any out there, that is.

The Conflicting Emotions Post

So, I'm reeeeeally happy, but I feel like I should be sad.

It's not a good thing to be happy that someone is now heartbroken. It's not a good thing that the first thing you do is smile the biggest smile you've ever smiled because the news is good news to you. It's not a good thing that you think you have the answers to everything. It's not good to do lots of things.

But I'm doing them. And I feel bad that I don't feel bad.

Sorry I'm not sorry.

LOL, I Ain't Even Mad

That you decided to unfriend me on Facebook. I find it comical, actually. Should I be upset? If only Facebook meant that much to me...

I am upset that you think you can fuck with my church. I've been going there for ten years, and you started coming because you wanted to corner your ex-boyfriend. So keep it coming. I'll weather the storm. I have a whole congregation at my back. What do you have?

And when you decide to stop acting like a teenager, call me. Better yet, don't call me. Just leave me alone.

Do You Ever Get That Feeling

Where you're the one on the outside? Because lately I've been thinking I'm actually the one on the outside looking in.

Not with my family and friends in Iowa, but with one particular person in Texas. I don't think things are fine between us, and there is no way to fix it from up here. Despite our previous conversations, I feel that I'm slowly being pushed away. I'm suddenly outside the circle of trust, and I don't know how I got there.

Strangely, I'm mad. I would have thought I'd be crying and carrying on, becoming depressed and not eating. But instead I have this deep well of hatred bubbling to the surface. It's showing in my attempts at interacting with others. I've been edgy all day and taken my anger out on friends. My humor is a little too cutting today, and I've sequestered myself in my room to keep that away from everyone up here.

I'm going to write a letter to him and fill it with every hateful thing I can think of, then never send it. It sounds like the perfect solution to my problem right now. Because the only person I want to yell at is him, and he won't pick up his stupid phone long enough for me to get a good insult out. So letter form is the best option right now.

I'm going to do my homework now. After I write the letter.

My Weekend Was A Fun One, But...

I;m getting sick. I can feel it at the base of my skull where it meets my neck and the effort it takes to move even a little. I'm probably not going to class tomorrow, largely because I know I'll be worse tomorrow. If I'm not utterly exhausted, I'll at least be running a fever and not want to get out of bed. I'm not sure what the bug I contracted last week was, but it's kicking my ass right now.

On another note, the Anti-Valentine's Day weekend was a success! We didn't really travel to Independence, MO for an Anti-Valentine's Day weekend, but that's how I'm choosing to interpret it. First, we went to Downtown Kansas City and tooled around in the HUGE Barnes & Noble there, also known as my crack store. After that, it was off to Jenna's house.

I should probably tell you that I went with three friends of mine: Jenna, Becky, and Kris.

Anyway, we went to Jenna's house and set up shop, bunking down for the night and waking up early the next day. The next site of excitement was the large mall in Independence, called the Independence Center if I'm not mistaken. We did several things, including a carousel ride, a fun time in a photo booth, and exploring several stores. Then it was off to a birthday party, the final showing of "Thoroughly Modern Millie" at Jenna's high school, and meeting a new friend named Brittany.

This morning we went to church, and after it was over I could feel round two with the stomach bug coming on. I took a nap, only to wake up not feeling any better. I'm exhausted now, and I got plenty of sleep last night. And it probably didn't help that I was in a house with cats, my number one allergy, only a week after contracting afore mentioned stomach bug. My immune system wasn't up to snuff quite yet, and it was like a breeding ground for sickness.

Damn, I wish this post wasn't about me whining. I really do, but shit. I think I deserve a fucking break, as do my friends and my brother Dylan. He's not technically my brother, but he's been living with us for almost three years so we've adopted him. Unofficially, anyway. The point is his mother passed away last August, and he just had to bury his uncle. I think his family has been messed with enough already. I think my family has been messed with enough. I just want to spend a week, ONE WEEK, in relative peace. I can feel the stress building, and it's not even through the first quarter of class yet.

Dammit, I'm tired. And I have a meeting to prepare for. So I will leave you all to your nightly rituals.

Up After Midnight Like Most College Students

What most college students are doing right now, however, is not what I was just doing. Most college students did not just finish writing a response paper on Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye. Except, of course, the nine other people in class with me, but I'm willing to bet that they all finished the paper before midnight, unlike me. After this, I picked out what Vacation Bible School I'll be directing. You heard me correctly. I, Cathryn Elyse Watkins, 22-year-old, will be heading up the team that plans Vacation Bible School. For the first time. With no previous directing experience. By myself. I feel a little like the wounded fish in the ocean right before the shark eats it. But I'm sure I'll be fine. Right? Riiiiiiiiiight. And after THAT, I sent a few emails to professors and one to the people that belong to the Academic Student Council, of which I am president. I've been a busy little bee.

Also unlike most college students, I want to write some more. I know you're shocked, but there you go. My brain won't shut off, and I keep bouncing off several different trains of thought. The most prevalent ones are the book I just finished, how my brother is doing at home, how much my neck hurts, and an irrational lust for hot chocolate at this very moment.

For those of you that don't know, Toni Morrison is a prevalent African American author who has won a Nobel Prize for her book Beloved. Her books are dark, to put it lightly. They deal with things I'd rather not think about ever, but her word choice is so beautiful. She makes love to the English language in her novels, and for that I can overlook the novel topics that make my tummy squirm in revulsion.

Another thing that makes my tummy squirm in revulsion is the possibility that a few people in particular are reading this blog. I'm pretty sure not many people are, but that's not what this blog is about anyway. This blog is, like Gerkin in "Sydney White"says, "not about being read. It's about being written." I realize I sound like a dork for that quotation, but that's okay. I like myself just the way I am. But these two people in particular are back home, and while I haven't blogged about one of them, I've definitely blogged about the other one. I don't think either one of them has my url, so I'm hopeful that they aren't reading this.

About the person I haven't blogged about yet. First, it's a girl and I hate her. Well, not hate, but strongly dislike. I can't imagine her being in my life on a daily basis, but it appears she's here to stay. One day I'll crack my knuckles, grab a huge bag of chocolate, and write a blog post about her because the things she did are truly worth judgement by all. But I'm tired and running out of things to talk about, so I'm going to bed. Besides, I have to be up in seven hours and ready to take a quiz by 9:30.

Night all.

Oh God, The Writing

It's driving me insane already. I love writing, but there's SO MUCH OF IT. I'm inundated with it from all my classes. Literally EVERY CLASS has writing assignments due at some point this week. Or speaking assignments that I have to write out first. And the only thing I want to do is read books in my bed, hang out with my friends that I've sorely missed and think about how pathetic I am. Is that too much to ask? IS IT?

Apparently it is. Because as much as I want to say I'm over him and all his drama, I'm not. Not even close. And every time I say I am, I'm lying to everyone around me. And my extremely heavy workload doesn't allow for much pity party time. I can pity party or nap, and napping is the better option. Or so my body tells me.

But seriously...THE WRITING. I have to keep a weekly journal that consists of two pages a week, handwritten. Then there's the reflections and odd response papers. I have a 25 page senior paper, a 6 page paper on a Toni Morrison novel due later, and did I mention I have to read about 200 pages a week? Now I average about 200-400 pages a day when I feel like it, but still...damn.

It's a damn good thing I'm an English major, or else I'd be burned out by the end of this semester. This was a short post. I'm going to bed now because I have to go to class tomorrow, but I'll be done by noon, and then I can do ALL the sleeping. Then I'll do homework.

Packing

I didn't realize just how much crap I carried home with me until just now. I'm having to pack it all back up, and doing it with my gimp foot is no picnic. Everything takes at least twice as long as it normally does, and my foot's starting to throb because I've been on it so much. So I sat down to write a little blog post.

This is going pretty well, considering how hard it is for me to stick to my guns and actually keep up with things like this. It hasn't been a week yet, though, so we'll see how it goes.

My family is watching The Ides of March in the living room. It's a great movie, but I'm not in the mood for a political thriller. I'm actually leaning towards a well deserved nap. Packing is hard work, and I'm not even halfway done yet. I have to pack up the mounds of bathroom supplies I've allowed to explode everywhere. Plus I haven't even started packing the mountain of clothes I'm taking back with me. Then we add in shoes, books, movies, and some stuffed animals and a blanket. That's quite a bit of packing to do.

I hate packing. I hate everything about leaving, pretty much. I want to go back to Iowa, but not really at the same time. Getting away from Alvin will get me away from the boy who's become something of a destructive force in my life. I say boy, because he acts like he's 16 instead of 21. Its not because he plays video games and doesn't like to leave his house. It's the way he acts around girls. He moves too quickly with them, saying "I love you" after one week of dating and quickly moving from one girl to the other. He dumped his previous girlfriend, and not even three days later had a new one. His excuse of "I'm not ready to get into a relationship" seemed a little thin when he showed up with a new bitch, proclaiming his love for the world to hear.

I'm just the tiniest bit bitter because though we're friends, that's not what we started out as. We started out  as two people who liked one another, and it escalated into suggestive text messages and long conversations at night. I couldn't wait to come home and see him. On my birthday, two days before I was on break, I got the news he was dating someone else. Then we were two people who didn't know how to act around one another. We turned into friends, then we were fighting, and now we're kinda friends. The only things that haven't changed about our relationship are my feelings for him. He keeps blowing me off for his new girlfriend, and it pisses me off so much I can't see straight sometimes. I'm leaving for Iowa tomorrow, and he hasn't bothered to actually spend time with me. We've seen each other a few times over the SIX WEEKS I've been home, not including church, which is cheating. He's the pastor's son, so he's kind of obligated to come to church. And I'm swarmed by other church members when I'm there, so I don't see him much anyway. The times we've seen each other have been with other people, excluding the one time we sat outside his house for two hours and talked because our relationship had deteriorated. There was a lot of discussion, and it appears we've reached a fragile truce with one another. Now we're testing the limits of this new friendship, and I hope it lasts.

This is what happens when I pack. It gets far too easy to stop doing anything productive and reflect on things. Like how much I'm going to miss my family. Like how much I'm going to miss attending church every Sunday. Like how much it hurts to leave that damn boy, despite all the anger and frustration I feel.

Leaving is going to suck.

I Hate Everything About Today

I promise not all of these posts will be negative. I found out yesterday that I have a stress fracture on my left foot, and have been walking on it for at least a week, if not longer. It's been causing me pain and shit, and I finally went to the doctor. After the x-rays he told me the wonderful news and put me in a soft cast.

Normally, I'd be really excited. This is the first bone I've ever broken. How is that possible, you might ask? I've never been one for hurting myself. When I was a freshman in college, I sprained my ankle for the first time in my life. It was a horrible sprain and my foot has never fully healed. It is the same foot that has this fracture, which leads my incredibly attractive podiatrist to believe that this fracture has always been there, but was recently aggravated.

Well fuck me. I have to drive back to Iowa in two days with a broken foot that has to remain in this cast for 6 weeks. I can't be on it very often, and I have to have it propped up when I'm sitting down. In Iowa there is ice and snow, and I have to walk through it all to class. Snow and ice are my mortal enemies, because I manage to fall on them every time I step into them. I fall at least once a day in Iowa, and I can only imagine what fresh hell awaits me now that I have to walk with this ridiculous fucking cast and boot combination.

This is the paragraph where I whine about how much I hate everything, largely because I'm not ready to go back to Iowa. I already miss my family and friends, and I've still got two days with them. This broken foot has a small part to do with my whining, but most of it is because I truly don't want to leave Alvin. I love my church, my pastor and his family, and my family is always on my mind, along with my lifelong friends I leave here every time I go back to Iowa. Right now, the fact that this is my last semester in Iowa is small comfort.

Now that that's done, the only funny thing that has come out of the last few days is the fact that I have contracted a fungus on my foot, which I have to treat with cream twice a day. My siblings have come up with some nice names, but my favorite is mushroom head. Having left you with that charming tidbit of information, I bid you adieu.

What Is This Doing On The Internet?

I'm not sure anyone knows this about me, but I love to rant. That is, quite possibly, the reason my url is cathrynlovestorant.blogspot.com...

Anyway, I've tooled around with starting a blog several times. I've started and stopped, and sometimes I keep a journal, but not very often. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing I start doing regularly. Right now, in this moment at 11:28 p.m., the night before my aunt's funeral, it sounds like a fucking awesome thing to do. I've got all these convictions RIGHT NOW, but who's to say it'll pan out in the end? I guess only time will tell. You see, I'm a procrastinator at heart and loathe doing anything in the moment that doesn't bring me immense satisfaction. Conversely, I love helping people. I feel it is my God given duty to help as many people as I can every day.

In all seriousness, I do like helping people, and I don't think I do it enough. I love making others happy and bringing a moment of joy into what could possibly be the worst day of their life. I don't know some of these people. I don't know what they've gone through or are going through. It's not going to hurt me to be cheerful to strangers or be cheerful to my friends. It won't cost me a thing and doesn't take much effort. So I do it, and it makes me feel better.

I'm actually not sure why I'm posting this, or what it's about. It's just me writing everything that comes into my brain without a second thought, much like vomit. You can't stop it, and it makes you feel better when you're done. So I guess this is word vomit. That's a nice way to put it I guess. I'm the Virginia Woolfe of blogging. By the way, I'm an English major, so these types of jokes might show up here occasionally. I'm not a very good English major, in the sense that I don't get many of the jokes. I can't make them very often either, but I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on. I love all types of books, I am literally always reading something, and you won't find a more dedicated 22-year-old to the study of Shakespeare, which I plan to make the concentration for my doctorate...someday.

I will be a teacher. A junior high teacher to be exact. I've been called crazy several times, but that's okay. I know I am, and if you're reading this you already know I'm crazy, because you more than likely know who I am, as in you've met me in real life. But the point of this...paragraph, I guess, is to inform anyone who MIGHT not know who the fuck I am that I want to be a teacher. Children are also my passion, along with music. I'm not sure it's possible to have three passions, but I know that I care about English, children, and music a whole whole lot. I want them to be a part of my life every day.

I think that's all I'm going to write now, because I have to get up in approximately seven hours and get ready to go to my aunt's funeral, then go talk to people I probably don't want to be around for hours and accept a shitload of condolences when all I really want to do is go home, pop in a string of movies that will make me laugh or cry, get blindingly drunk off my ass, and hang out with my friend who's blown me off continuously for the past three weeks. You see, he's in a bit of a pickle. I'm not sure why, but I know it has something to do with girls, and though I am, in fact, a girl, I'm like his sister and am therefore exempt from his current frustration with the female population. And though he has shown a spectacular lack of interest in my life and troubles, he is in need of a friend now, and that is what I am providing for him. My friendship, my booze, and my comfy bed to lay on and watch movies. That is, that's what I will offer him when we hang out. If we hang out. Because he might not come over and hang out tomorrow, which would be true to form. Blowing me off is kind of like his sport. Wow, that was an extremely pathetic and self-pitying remark. Oh well.

That's another thing you should know. I am annoying as fuck sometimes, but you will never find a more dedicated friend. I care for a lot of people, but I only care about a few of them. Once my friendship is offered and accepted, it's damn hard to get rid of me. You have to do some pretty dick bag things to get me to stop being your friend. Be warned though: my friendship, once rescinded, is almost impossible to get back. It's hard for me to forget betrayal or dick bags. And if you, at any point in time, realize what you lost when you lost me, I feel little sympathy for you. You had me, and you were stupid enough to lose me, so you probably don't deserve me back. I realize this is a high opinion of myself, but I know how far I'm willing to go for my best friends and my family, and it's pretty damn far. Some might call it insane, but those who are lucky enough to experience it aren't complaining. So they take me as I am: whiney bitch and all, because they know they will always be able to count on me.

I guess I should put a disclaimer on this blog. It might be better to do it at the beginning, but if you're still reading, I assume you're interested. I have a unique brand of humor. It's a healthy mix of self-deprication, inside jokes, random statements, and is full of piss and vinegar. If you get offended by anything I say, please feel free to stay the fuck off my blog. This is my baby, and I will write anything I want on here. That being said, if you genuinely have a problem with something I've said and you count yourself as one of my friends or family members, feel free to call me and tell me. I'll try to explain myself as best as possible.

Okay, I'm for reals going to bed now. I have to, or I'll keep ranting about nothing really. Because this blog entry is currently about...nothing.