The Coincidence of All Coincidences

I've got an apartment, and it will be ready on the 20th.

I've got a dog.

I've scheduled the movers and the cable guy.

I've given notice at the storage room.

I've made the reservation for the hotel room I'll be staying in while I don't have an apartment.

I still have to do laundry, pack enough stuff for the first three days of school, copy all the pages out of the library books I need, send the money for my ticket, pay my library fines, drop my psychology class, add the photography class and Italian class, and buy my books.

I'm fairly certain owe ove r$100 in library fines after the books get returned. They say I own almost $600 now because I've been charged to replace the books. Ugh. I'm going to get that taken care of ASAP tomorrow.

The Princess Has Arrived and the Queen Has Ascended the Throne

I got a new puppy last night. Her name is Zoe (pronouced Zoey) Jezebel. I wanted to name her Sucia (a really vile insult in Spanish without any real English translation, but basically can be a dirty, bad girl), but Mom said it was too soft-sounding a name and that Zoe would have a hard time recognizing it. So, hence Zoe. We'll see how it works out. She already seems to be responding to it.

She totally accosts Pepper everytime they see each other and my poor old poodle is feeling thoroughly harassed. It's all good though. Zoe and I are going to be gone in less than a week anyway.

I heard from my Tennessee-by-way-of-Michigan friend. Says he's had a hellacious week at work. "Sorry" was all I got, no explanation, nothing. Oh well. That's how he is. Take him or leave him. Unfortunately, I have no other choice but to leave him at the moment. We just aren't meant to be, but it might be fun figuring that out for sure. LOL.

Anyway, Zoe is asleep in my lap and I'm dead tired. I'm off. Everyone who has the misfortunte to be reading this journal, I hope you have a wonderful day! I'm taking my nephew to the ball game for his birthday this evening, so pray for little to no rain!

Extraordinary

I am an extraordinary person.

I am neurotic, but at least I realize it.

I am attempting to pull the 2x4 from my asshole.

I am an intelligent individual.

I do deserve explanations, phone calls, and affection.

I am worth the trouble.

I'm brilliantly funny most of the time.

The person I'm with at any given time is lucky to have me.

I may not be a great beauty, but I am not ugly. Although I have my moments.

I do deserve more than I get a lot of the time.

I'm loyal, loving, caring, compassionate and have a limited bullshit tolerance.

I am totally worth it. In fact, I'm worth driving 8 hours for. I'm worth driving 8 hours, paying $100 for a place to stay, and only having 12 hours to spend with me.

I'm going to be a good mother.

I'm am totally going to be successful. Wait, I'm totally successful now.

I may be flabby, but I am not fat.

I may be going gray, but I keeping the confidence I have over good hair is totally worth $125 every three months.

I am a keeper and anyone who doesn't realize it has issues.

That's all I have to say for now.

Fate is a woman

Fate is a tricky thing.

Have you ever thought to yourself, "This isn't the way it was supposed to be" either in a particular situation or about the state of your life.

Seriously, I've been in a funk all summer. This is the last summer I had to goof off and have a good time. I tried to make it that way and it just didn't pan out. I've been in a funk.

I have this odd urge to call my Dad and tell him what I think simply because I have no insurance and therapy is too expensive. One of my philosophies is that there is a certain point at which you have to stop blaming your parents for they way things have turned out and start taking responsibility for their own lives. I've just come to this realization that the reason my life is the way it is is simply because I continue to live my life through my parents. I put such an emphasis on taking care of my Mom that I don't take care of myself, and I've put such an emphasis on the fact that my own Father doesn't love me that I continually and repeatedly persue dead end relationships.

I mean, you'd look at my dating history and, on the surface at least, some of them have been pretty decent guys. I'm sure they have women in their histories that would attest to that fact. But, for me, they aren't so good. They leave and I end up with some sort of emotional hangover from seeing them. I go into every situation knowing what it's going to be, but I still go into it hoping for the best. Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy or is it simply that I know deep down what kind of decisions I'm making?

You know, every time people ask me what I want to do with my life, I spout this answer that becomes less and less true with every step I take towards it. "I want to go into forensics." Sure, it would be fascinating and the money is good, but what do I really want to do? Well, for anyone who wants to know, I want to travel around the States and take pictures. That's all I want to do. I want to have shows in art galleries and maybe let someone put my pictures in a book to decorate people's coffee tables. No, I don't really want my photography in a book. I want to put it in galleries under a pseudonym so no one will know it's me.

Honestly, I hate the snow, but I miss it. I want to go to Wisconsin, Vermont, Maine, New Hampsire, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island. I want to steer clear of places that have painful memories or house painful people. So basically no Alaska, Alabama, Oregon, Montana or Michigan. I may have to lift the tariffs due to the possiblity of pretty pictures, the lack of a highway that goes around, or the need for a place to stay (lack of money or need of bedrest due to illness).

I don't want to go back to school next semester, but that would screw me for the next year. I just want to go take a bunch of pretty pictures. I just want to drive until I get too tired to drive anymore. I want to go back to Wyoming and take pictures of the Tetons in Yellowstone. I want Ansel Adams type pictures in the snow. I want pictures of the friends and family that I haven't seen in ages. I want to meet interesting people and go interesting places and lose contact with the people I know and love here. Not lost contact completely, but just not be around so much.

So, anyone want to run away with me? Doubtful, but that's ok. I wanted to do it on my own anyhow. Anyone want me to drop by and see them? Wait, that's a way to get a boycott lifted off a state if I don't watch it.

It's no fun being a girl

So after attempting to listen to my voice mail and unintentionally hitting some stupid button that made my phone revolt against me and call him instead (and I very hastily hung up, I might add), I wrote the buttmunch an email. My six sense is twitching and that's never good.

Anyway, it went something like this:

I'm getting the pictures developed today (Tuesday), so if you want them tell me where to send them. If I don't hear back from you, all things considered, I'll toss them. I can also upload them onto Kodak Gallery if you'd rather not have the hard copies.

Also, if I don't hear back from you in any respect, I'll consider that your indication that you'd rather not hear from me anymore. Don't make that face at me and my semi-seriousness. Don't "Yeah, yeah, yeah" me either. We've been psuedo-friends for around seven years now: I'd think after all that I'd at least warrant a phone call.

So, that's it, I guess. He'll either call, IM or email to let me know if he wants to pictures. A female would also hope that he would offer some explanation for his actions, but being the realist that I am, I know he won't. He probably won't even want the pictures. Either because he doesn't want proof that someone was with him at that hotel or simply because I took them and he must converse with me to get them. No se. No me gusta. Estoy muy molestando. (If any of that is incorrect, bite me. I'm not fluent, you insensitive bastards.)

I'm off to complete more schoolwork. I have a feeling that more journaling will be done by the end of the day. We'll see.

A new week and a lie in

So it's nearly noon. I haven't actually slept until almost noon in forever. I've laid in bed and drifted in and out as recently as Friday, but I haven't actually slept until noon in forever. I took some Tylenol PM around 11 and it didn't work until 4 this morning. Damnit. I got some good sleep though.

So, from the Friday before last to last Friday I had two disasters with people of the male persuasion. Luck is not my lady. BUT, it's a new week and I'm going to get some schoolwork done. Serious schoolwork. I need to get on track.

I don't know why I've decided to start journaling again. I also have no earthly clue as to if I'll continue much past a few days. We'll see. I just remember how journaling used to make me feel better. It takes me forever to get out everything I want to say. It saves my friends from hours long conversations and it saves me from dying a slow death by dwelling.

I may have taken a step in the right direction. We'll see if that rings true as well. Hopefully no one finds my ill-fated journal and corrupts it with their thoughts or feelings. My hand would fall off if I tried to write everything I think and, as I said before, I tire of LJ.

Anyway, I'm off for coffee, nicoteine and schoolwork. Have a great day everyone...unless you've made any of my days hell recently. Then, I hope you're dwelling in much the same way I am.. That's mean. Oh well, I suppose. Hasta luego.

Blasted turmoil and all it entails.

So, I lost the balls to call my father. Yes, the wonders of the ball-less me. Yeah, I know--I never thought it would happen either. I guess that's always the way when it comes to my father.

The lesson to all the kiddies is that you can't control people. I can't make people see me the way I really am. I can't make them treat me with an ounce of dignity or even the slightest bit of respect. I can't make them be honest with me.

I'm disturbed at the moment. Really disturbed. It's not something I want to publish in a blog necessarily, but I feel the need to get it out. I guess I will.

Wednesday afternoon an old friend was online while I was on a study break. Turns out he's coming down South for a get-together with relatives. He'll be within 90 minutes of me for the first time in three years--that I know of, anyway. I haven't talked to him since last summer up until that point. I miss him just like I always do when he's gone. That fact remains simply because I enjoy his company. It doesn't make him more special than the rest, it just means that I've let him see a piece of what is the inner me and why that is I'm uncertain. I'm calmer around him. I find myself sitting around or going for a walk with him and his son--and enjoying myself. I've been numb to simple pleasures like that for quite some time. When I find something that makes me have that simple emotion--I think it's called contentment--I cling to it. I hate that I cling to it, but I do. I hate it. Hate it. Weakness sucks. The fact that he's always known however subconsciously how to manipulate that weakness sickens me. He doesn't make me sick, I make me sick. It makes me sick that the people that have this power over me don't really care how hard that opening up process is for me. I'm just another in the line seemingly just like the others and not worth the effort of further investigation. Just convenient at times, but otherwise no valo la pena. (I think I conjugated that verb correctly.)

Let's finish the story though. So, we talk for a few minutes, my wireless goes out, I text him on Yahoo via my cell, he calls. He says he's going to call later and that he'll call "every two minutes" the next day considering I admit my weakness when it comes to bending to his wants. I also tell him that I'm convinced he has a girl like me in at least five different states, he asks why I think that, and I laugh. He tells me he's in between relationships for once, so it's just going to be "me, him and the kid."

He doesn't call later that night and for most of the next day. I leave the next morning to stay with my nephew while Mandy goes to her dentist appointment. I get back to the hotel where I'm currently staying in order to have some peace and quiet so I can work, and I literally have his number on the screen of my phone and he calls.

It's 2:30 p.m. at this point. I've already talked to my Mom and told her the situation, but I'm paying for a hotel room where I am getting a discounted rate because I'm staying for a week. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't go. I really did. But I wanted to go. Well, I tell him all this. I tell him if I had the $40 to pay for two extra days in the room that I'm losing while going to see him, that I'd go to see him--and that is the only reason I'm not in the car and on the way to Tennessee already. He challenges me--in an offer to give me the $40. I laugh. "You aren't going to give me $40," is my response. His response goes something like this: "I just said I would, so if that's the only thing keeping you from coming to Tennessee, you now have no reason not to go." He's right and we hang up. He's going to call when he's about 3 hours away from his destination. I call Mandy and Jenae while packing what I need. I go get my dog's medication, go home, get ready and leave about an hour after he calls.

I go this convoluted back way that looked shorter, but isn't--at all. He calls a couple of different times, I cry a little out of pure frustration. I end up with a $101 ticket in Cleveland, TN--only six miles from the blessed intersections of 64/74 and I-75. I get to the hotel he's staying at and quickly change into PJs, wash my face, brush my teeth, and start playing with my long-lost buddy: his son.

He's promised me previously that we were only going to have dinner and that I could stay the night if I wanted to. He's also promised that it would only be myself and his child in the bed and that we would talk about me staying longer than the night after we had dinner. They had already had dinner considering I'd gotten there so late, and we were all exhausted. They'd been driving all day and I'd spent most of the day with my almost four nephew and I drove for around four and a half of the most frustrating hours of my life.

He looked mostly the same, but he's growing a beard I'd guess. The stubble looks edible on him. I don't know why. I'm usually not a fan of stubble or facial hair, but it wears well on him. He looks exhausted, but with the exception of the new facial hair, he looks the same.

We watched a movie and some CNN (not exciting, I know, but I enjoy the contentment as I said before) and I gave him the tiniest bit of a back rub as he'd insinuated I might have to earlier when we'd talked. His son looks at me and says, "I like that, too." So, instead of Daddy Dearest getting his full back rub, his three-foot tall contemporary sneaks in and steals home.

I go to lay down, whack my head on the head board not once but twice before all is said and done. What is his only comment? No, it's not, "Are you ok?" it's "You're not supposed to do that until the kid falls asleep." I don't even catch the implication as I've received no affection besides a friendly hug when I first got there.

One might bring up the fact that I was clad in a red satin PJ set during this time, but, honestly, it's demure. It's a button up shirt and pants. It's the most demure set I own. A TMI, I know, but I normally sleep in only what I was born with. I have a few night shirts and are reserved for wearing when I'm sick, a practically see-through pair, and another pair that my boobs hang out of. I thought I was choosing wisely with the red satin pair. I may have been right, I may have been wrong, but that really is beside the point.

Anyway, to continue, I put his son in between us since it's become apparent at this point that he's planning on sleeping in the bed with us. He puts his child on the other side of the bed and lays between the two of us. Mentally, I hope I'm going to get snuggles before the night is out. Realistically, I figure it's just a bid to be closer to his son.

To be frank, I got a bit more than my coveted snuggles.

I had a hell of a time falling asleep, so I just scratched his back for awhile. He's on his stomach and is cuddling his child trying to get him to fall asleep. I eventually fall asleep but wake up on my stomach with him pulling up the back of my shirt and putting his hand in the small of my back. I love that. Love it. I was achy from driving and from being so stressed out and the warm weight of his hand was just--soothing. It was sweet. I adored it. I fell back asleep.

I wake up later on my side, him on his back, cuddled up to his chest. I smiled and fell back asleep.

I have no idea how much time has passed but I find myself encased in a sort of human cage later on. Not that it wasn't pleasant, but I was so hot! Not hot as in aroused, but hot as in hace mucho calor. I was burning up. There are two human heaters in this bed with me and they are both wearing less than I am. I was about to die. That's what woke me up. Beside the point...back to the point. I'm on my side, he's on his side behind me--typical spooning position. But, he's snaked his arm under my neck and his arm is going across me and his hand is holding on to the side I'm not laying on. I've had boys kind of lay their hands on my side to the point where their arm usually falls, but I've never been--gripped. It was nice. Anyway, his other arm is wrapped around me from the topside and wrapped underneath my other side. He's got a leg thrown up over one of mine and his head is so close to mine I could feel him breathing. It was nice. I was so hot I still have a little bit of heat rash, but it was nice. So, I just kicked off a bit of the blanket and went back to sleep.

I wake up yet again. I'm a little groggy and cuddle back against him just a bit. The uber-sexy stubble prickled the skin behind my ear right before he kissed the same spot. I thought I might melt. I love that, too. It's such a neglected space. The ears are a fairly common erogenous zone, but the skin behind the ear is a sweet spot that is not as oft traveled.

It was just really sweet. I thought he might still be mostly asleep and being as relationship-prone as he is, I thought it might be habit to kiss whoever he was next to. So, I wait. He kept kissing just about anywhere he could reach without moving anything but his head and neck.

We've known each other since mid-1998. It's been seven years for crying out loud. Nothing even remotely this intimate has happened between us--ever. We've danced around it multiple times, but I just figure that it was bound to happen during this visit. I just never anticipated the next few moments let alone the next twelve hours.

This is where it gets sticky. We've got a four-year-old in the bed with us. I'm kissing a boy that I've wanted to kiss for quite some time. We're both older, more experienced, and completely aware of what could happen. I'm content just kissing him, but he's being a bit persistent. Any girl who has kissed a boy with a new found love for stubble knows the dangers of beard rash. So, as the situation heats up to a point where I'm not exactly comfortable (considering his son is kicking me in his sleep), I tell him to stop. He asked me why and I tell him that no matter how sexy I think his stubble is, that if he wants me to leave the room the next day we're going to have to stop (beard rash worries in full effect). I didn't even consider that he wouldn't want me to see his family. I know his dad and his step-mom and his step-siblings. I know the implications, and, even if I'm not exactly comfortable with having to drive the point that we aren't in a relationship home to relatives of his I'll never see again, I'm willing to do it in order to spend just one whole day with him free of time constraints. It's that important to me. I packed clothes for just that event. I thought he wanted to spend time with me as well. I'm not so sure we have the same definition of "spending time together" anymore.

Anyway, an exasperated sigh from him stops the whole thing. It's 5:30 a.m. at this point. I get very few cuddles after this point and we all stay in bed until 12:00 noon. I've had no coffee and the fat girl hasn't eaten. I'm not hungry anyway. He gets up a few different times to answer the phone about work and then goes outside to smoke. It's only when he stays out there when his son wants to go out to him. The little squirt and I go out to find him and it's then that I realize he's on the phone again. I don't know who he's talking to, but it's just a bad flashback of a caustic ex. This particular ex used to leave the room all the time. Leaving the room when he thought I was sleeping to call his then girlfriend that I thought he'd broken up with the week before was commonplace. I never found out until after the fact. It's bad ju-ju.

My stomach fell when I saw him out there. For the first time, I doubted that he'd told me the truth about being in between relationships. We used to sneak around simply because of the nature of his relationship with his ex, and I always beleived him about the lack of romantic relationship between them. Of course, that was simply because his family confirmed it. I remember his Dad telling me on at least one occasion, "Don't let her scare you off. You fit in and we like you." So, I stuck around. But that was three years ago.

Well, I took some pictures of them in the pool after I'd called a couple of people and had a morning (er, afternoon) jolt of nicoteine (sp?), and then took a shower. I asked him what I was going to do. He asked what I meant. I told him that it was after 1:00 p.m. and if I wanted to miss Friday Afternoon Atlanta Traffic (it's notorious) that I had to leave really soon. I tell him he has fifteen minutes to decide what I'm going to do. He comments on the speed at which the first five minutes passes. Hey, it's my time-restraint, it's my perogative.

He finally decides that it'll be better for me to go back to Atlanta. He says that he's going to try to get in touch with another old friend (a guy, thankfully) and that he might come down to Atlanta before the weekend is over. He gives his son a breathing treatment and tries to fix his hair then comments that maybe I could do a better job. I manage to get a couple of hugs and a kiss on the shoulder before I leave. He also promises to call that night (to which I comment about the inability I have to depend on him) and let me know what the plans are.

Surprise, surprise--he doesn't and I have yet to hear from him. I called and left him a message telling him that I needed an address to send the pictures of him in the pool with his kid to--if he even wants them. I prayed that the voicemail would pick up when I called and I thank God for that small favor. I doubt I hear from him for another six months--at least. I actually wouldn't be surprised if I didn't ever hear from him again unless it becomes convenient for him again.

I need to embrace the fact that it isn't about me--it's about the convenience that I offer. It's about the companionship that I offer, and he's addicted to companionship. He's not the boy I'm going to marry, so I have no reason to forgive him for this kind of treatment. I will if he asked just because I'm a glutton for punishment--but he won't ever ask for it. He'll offer a simple "I'm sorry" and I'll be expected to "quit my bitching." I may deserve more than that or I may just be a whiner.

I think I at least deserved a phone call before the weekend was out. I possibly deserved even more than that. For how many times I've done everything he's asked me to do except hop on top of him, I think I deserved more. He gets upset about girls not liking the idea that he has a child, but it doesn't bother me. Maybe I permit too much. I was a little sad when I found out that he'd had a child, but I still saw him again after that.

I wonder what I'll do when I find the person that cares about the sensitivity of my feelings. I wonder what it'll be like when I find a guy that has staying power even when it isn't convenient for him. I wonder what it'll be like to find someone that runs around after me just as much as I run around after him. I wonder if I'll ever find that person.

Last night I couldn't sleep because my mind just wouldn't shut off. I called Joel and decided to go out with him and his friends for a bit. His friend Alex and I talked for a long time. We were outside the bar when Alex walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my stomach, his head resting on my shoulder. His stubble tickled the skin behind my ear and a chill went up my spine. I remembered where I'd been just two nights before and I just wanted to cry. I spent the night at Joel's just to have someone near me that cared that I wasn't ok but wouldn't make me talk about it. I acutally slept last night just because I felt safe and cared about. The boy I've been talking about this whole time hated it when I'd bring Joel with me to see him at the restaurant where he worked. Joel is my best male friend and he was willing to go sit with me while I waited for this particular boy to give me just the slightest bit of attention. I used to laugh at the little tinge of jealousy I sensed. It was nice.

It's probably unfair to say that my comrad in the Tennessee Adventure has never cared anything for me. It might even be unfair to say he doesn't care for me at all now. I just know he's not being honest with me in some respect. That fact makes my stomach hurt. I don't know why exactly. It shouldn't hurt considering that he lives in Michigan and I live in Georgia. I'm not going up there, he's not coming down here. It's not practical. It still hurts though.

Difficult times call for a change of location

So, I'm tired of LiveJournal. I don't know why, I just am. I kind of want a new lease on life. I started a journal here forever and a day ago as to view the journals of my contemporaries, but never posted anything but the color of my damn aura quiz. I deleted it. And now I'm starting anew.

I don't know. Mexico sounds nice. I know it is nice. I want to go back. Not to tourist Mexico, but the rough, hard Mexico that I witnessed. I want to join the Peace Corps, go to Sudan and help in the refugee camps. I want to go to Rwanda and see genocide for what it is. I have a strange fascination with it now, but all I want to do is help. It's like I've achieved something of a higher purpose. We'll see if any of it ever comes to fruitition.

Mom is moving in order to live someplace not over run with the criminals that have infiltrated our neighborhood. That makes me happy. It's selfish, but I'm 25 damn years old. I've never had a monogamous relationship that lasted over a year (If there are any questions about the monogamous part, feel free to ask. Needless to say I was monogamous and the other half of the relationship was not.). I'm selfish and I know it, but I'm ready for my life to start. I'm so completely in love with the idea of being my own keeper--of only worrying about myself and not worrying about everyone else. I might actually be able to make a decision that was good for my person if that were the case. I guess we shall see.

I love my friends and I love my Mom--but--big but--I want to leave. I want away. I want to be gone. Just for a little while. Just to regain my perspective, drive, ambition and ability to stand up for myself. I've become this meek little creature that isn't capable of telling anyone no. Well, I'm capable of saying no, but there are a select few people that abuse the fact that I seem rendered stupid by my adoration for them. *cough* You know who you are and most of you suck for abusing my weakness. I'm a person, damnit. I don't treat you like sullied goods, so why must you treat me that way? No answers? That's right, you think people will think less of you given your current thoughts.

Here's the shocker, folks. Everyone has dirty, immoral little thoughts every once in awhile. What distinguished those of us that are essentially good from those that are essentially not-so-good is that those of us that are good aren't ashamed of our thoughts. We relish in the fact that we are honest and expect the same from others. We are the sensitive of the bunch and lack of honesty is what hurts us the most. So, injured am I. Those who love me rally around me and those who hate me do jigs of joy in the town square to whatever higher power (or mortal) that caused/causes my angst.

I'm done for now. I feel the desire to finally break the silence with my father. I'm going to end up a crying, sobbing mess, but I should get it over with. A year is plenty of time to let him learn his lesson.