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| Oversharing and stealing from CanadiansThis is pour le Steve ... he's trop charmant.
Who do I think I am? It depends on the day.
This is me happy. That is my ex-boyfriend, Philip. He was a very bright light in the otherwise dark, shitty year of 2007. He is wonderful, and we are still friends.
I am not always happy, but I am always cheerful. My co-workers say I am way too cheerful in the mornings. Yesterday an older man in the break room asked me where I was before I came to work... "Jail?" And I said, "No, Louisiana. It's kind of the same." I love my job and my co-workers and my bosses. It all came together so quickly and easily that I know coming to DC must've been fate. I have a 10-minute walk to the metro station in the mornings, and if it's not hot outside, it's my favorite part of the day. I walk through a dog park and down one of the busier streets in the city. I tell a homeless man hello every morning; he lets me know how many days I have left until the weekend. On Mondays, he looks at me with a sad face.
I love my friends, even (or especially) the internet ones. I also love my family. I call my mom about three times a day, which I'm sure signals some kind of psychotic nature, but whatever, I'm awesome and so is Shebebly. My brother is an air traffic controller in the Air Force. He lives on the beach and probably gets laid every weekend. He smokes cigarettes and drinks a lot. He is kind of my opposite. My grandparents live on the Mississippi River. My paw paw has a giant vegetable garden in his backyard because the ground is so fertile. He's got cauliflower, cabbage, carrots, beets, radishes, herbs, etc. He also goes trawling (crabs) and fishing all the time. I am convinced that if there were no grocery stores, my grandparents could be totally self-sufficient.
I tell a lot of stories. I exaggerate, but I usually am quick to say, "No, kidding, it wasn't that bad." I think weird things happen to everyone, but I am good at connecting the dots to make random shit come together for a hilarious conclusion.
I am the smallest A-cup there is. 32A. I'm just glad I'm not AA. Target had a sale when I went there on Sunday. I bought bras in about four different colors. One's got a rainbow on it. For some reason that is great. I love colorful underthings. I hate Victoria's Secret for never having my size.
I talk a lot. With most people I don't like silence. It makes me self-conscious. Only with my closest friends would I rather be silent. I get nervous around people when I'm one-on-one. I hate that about myself. I'm fine in groups and alone, but not so great otherwise. I am extremely attracted to Asian men right now. I had this hot Asian waiter the other day and I wished I would've said something, anything witty. Instead I just giggled. Yeah, I'm great under pressure.
I love my cat unconditionally. I know she's not a person, but I'm kind of informed now about what it's like to have a kid. When she's ready to go to sleep and I'm sitting at my computer desk, she lightly paws my lower back to let me know it's time to give her attention. Every time I walk up the stairs to go to my room, she waits until i'm 3/4 of the way up, then she RUNS up and beats me to my room. When I turn my lamp on before I go to bed, she chases the shadows my hands make on the wall. She used to sleep about a foot away from me, but lately she's been curling up with her back touching my legs.
I weigh 99 pounds now. My goal is 105. I went to two doctors this week. My new psychiatrist is upping my anxiety medication dosage. He is also sending me to a GI specialist to see if I have a stomach problem of some kind. He thinks it might be my colon, isn't that exciting? I also went my new Lady Doctor, or, as I think of it, That Person Who Puts Stuff Up My Vag. Back when I lived in Louisiana I had something wrong with my lower parts that I called "Angry Vagina Syndrome." I was pretty sure it wasn't an STD, but it wasn't a regular infection, so I went to the doctor. The suppposedly educated doctor proceeded to give me two different kinds of medication, both expensive, neither worked. So the Lady Doctor today informs me that I have a rare (something)itis that usually is present in pre-menopausal women. Basically a combo of being underweight and being on birth control has caused my body to not have enough estrogen. The treatment regimen for this (something)itis is about two months long and sounds fucking expensive. I'm lucky it's not contagious, I don't have cancer or the HIV or any STDs, but I'm still annoyed that yet again I have some weird rare ailment. And I don't have the money for this shit.
This is what an angry vagina looks like, by the way:
Yeah, you thought that was the eye of Sauron? Think again. That is an angry firegina. Every time I see Lord of the Rings, I never see an eye. I just see a Fiery Vagina. I don't even know how you get an "eye" out of that, anyway. | | |
| I love this one.from http://xkcd.com/458/
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| Redundant ...When I go to write a post, I think:
A) There's nothing I can write that I haven't already said at least once in the five years I've been writing here, at least in regard to personal thoughts and information.
B) So much has changed since 2002, but there are a couple of things are still exactly the same.
Not to go all Carrie from Sex and the City (her writing sucks ass), but I wonder sometimes ... am I actually lonely, or do I just miss the way love makes me feel? Is that the same thing?
I suspect it may be a combination of the two. I don't know if I will ever figure that out. How can you not miss it, though? It's like heroin, or so I hear. A couple of hits and you're addicted for life.
The whole room is dark except for my computer screen, and my hands look old. In the light they look young, but right now I can see every wrinkle and scar.
I feel old.
I hate that there are things I can't write about publicly. Well, I can, but I usually don't make it a public post. I want to be able to say anything I want, feel anything I want, write anything, etc.
I can't write about my family (I miss my brother so much, I can't even understand it).
I can't write about the person whom I've thought of as the love of my life even though sometimes I think if I wrote for long enough it would be out of my system and I could finally be someone else's, for real, and I would stop thinking of him every day and stop caring about the only person I want to tell all of my secrets to. Yes I have secrets, even though I seem to tell everyone everything.
I can't write about my work (so much funny stuff happens. OK, it's ultra dorky). I wanna keep my job, thanksverymuch.
I can't write about the people I encounter on a daily basis because it seems that everyone knows I have a blog, and I am unsure of who will read it and/or be offended that I am mocking them/talking about them/whatever.
I'm tired of being entertaining. I want to be still for a while.
I still feel like I failed by leaving Georgia. It got tough, and I bailed. When I talk to my friends from there, I feel like they are thinking I will do the same thing here. Like they think I am weak, fickle and silly. But I had never been in so much pain my whole life. And I was so angry at myself for it.
I feel like I failed by leaving Louisiana, or at least the South. I feel hypocritical, like I betrayed my family and friends. I don't want them to think that I think I'm better than them because of where I work or live. But when I'm with them, sometimes I feel alone ... like they know I'm not going to be there long, and so they won't let me in. I wish I could be a part of them again, but I don't know if I ever will be. I hate that I don't belong anywhere.
To end this sad panda of a post, I met this friend of a friend the other night who seemed nice and kind of cute. I think the word in my mind was "huggable." When I came home and was going to sleep, I thought of that person and how he seemed like the kind of guy with whom I'd feel safe. I don't know, he just seemed genuinely nice, unlike so many people I've dealt with in my recent past. I'm tired of head games and being messed with. It's so unattractive. I just want people to say what they mean.
I went to sleep better knowing that I am still able to find someone "huggable." Slightly pathetic, I know, but a ray of hope ... I think.
Steve will be the only person to comment (please, can you steer clear of the innuendo today?). | | |
| Still getting used to public transportation, etc.How important is it to be on the damn train? There's another one coming in like, three minutes.
All I'm saying is, some guy behind me got a pretty sweet feel today while we were sardined together. Meanwhile more people are trying to push on, and it's absolutely ridiculous. This ain't New York. You don't have anywhere important to go.
I went to a Nats vs. Phillies (that's baseball for those of you Canadians who don't know) game last night with my co-workers, who are the awesome. I spent most of my time conspiring with my friend Greg to annoy Jonathan, who is easily annoyed. Here, have a look:
"Come on, let's take a nice picture! We can do this! DON'T ARGUE WITH ME."
Greg reminds me so much of my ex-boyfriend Chad (who still reads this occasionally. Hi Chad!). He even has the same mannerisms and the same tone of voice. I enjoy him greatly.
Jamie eats a pretty ice cream ... cap.
IN OTHER NEWS ...
I'm watching "Dogma" on TV and I like it just as much now as I did the last 10 times I saw it.
I wish I could write more, but a lot of my funny stories involve work, and I don't want to bring that on here, so I can't. Blah.
However, I've got an interesting weekend coming up. I'm going with Greg to hang out with some of his friends at a bar, and then on Saturday Sarah's having a party. In true Sarah style, I'm sure it will be ultra classy and not at all a kegger. Wait ... no ... it will probably have a lot of beer.
Next week Jamie, Sarah and I start kickball (scrimmage). And I bought a few French books to study. I'm also having money issues. I'm unable to stick to a budget, and shit costs so much money right now. Thank god my health insurance kicks in tomorrow.
I was trying to go to New York for a weekend in September, but now I'm not sure if I can spare the money. At least not until things even out and I can come up with a budget that I'm able to stick to. Plus, I have to buy tickets to go back to New Orleans for Christmas and then like, three weeks later, for Gill & Bri's wedding. That'll probably end up being close to a G, considering I'm buying tickets A) for Christmas Eve and B) for the weekend before the new president is inaugurated.
OH OH OH. And in my most exciting news of the week, I think I saw the presidential motorcade on Penn Ave NW. I was trying to go to the post office and the police had the whole street blocked off. Then this caravan of agents and motorcycles and black SUVs and limos passed right in front of me. I couldn't tell if it was Obama, McCain, or Bush. | | |
| Two people I adore ...... who despise each other for good reason, and probably agree on almost nothing, both suggested the same thing as a remedy to my awful choices in men.
"Stop dating. NOW."
One suggested "for a few months" and the other suggested, "Seriously, for a year. OK, six months? Three months?"
Then my friend Jay commented on the situation and said, "But still get laid, just don't date." Since I'm awful at doing that, I suppose it's out.
It's probably a good idea. | | |
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