bptendency

Holly Jolly Holiday

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 19:37:45 GMT

Thanksgiving was a blast. Went to my Mom's and ate. Spinach stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, apple pie! Mmm...!

There are light patches of snow on the ground. Thankfully, the snow hasn't been too intense yet.

I'm in a jolly mood! I love the holidays! :) My birthday is coming up too. I'll be 19. Wow, I'm young. Hah.

Work has been bustling today. Day after Thanksgiving. I wasn't about to get up at 4 AM to hit the sales. I'm a bargain shopper as it is!

Justina & me haven't been talking as much. She's so cynical sometimes. I love her but lately she's been bringing me down. All she does is try to fish for complaints. Like, "So Corey's not being an asshole?" or "You two haven't had sex yet?? Are you sure there's any physical attraction there?"

It just irks me. It's our decision to abstain from sex. And yes, it frustrates me at times. But I know it's for the best. It's the only thing that plagues my mind. Sometimes I wonder if I should be worried that we haven't had sex. I mean, we fool around, but that's always the extent. And he has NO trouble getting up and off.
:)

I informed him of Justina's thoughts. And he squashed them quickly. "She really thinks I'm not attracted to you??" he asked incredulously.

I think we'll have sex soon. But I'm trying not to put too much emphasis on it.

I bought a few jackets. And my car has suitable tires for winter. Bring on the season!

Oh, and I have a key to Corey's house now. I think it could get serious but I'm still going to take it day by day. I don't want to crash and burn.

Like always.

Choose wisely, Mr. Bachelor

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 19:23:37 GMT

I feel the urge to write lately. I don't know what though. Nope, it's not writer's block. I have plenty to say. I just don't have the means. The only computer I own is at work and pencil and paper seems so outdated. Maybe I'll post a couple of poems and short stories.

I'm getting antsy! Maybe it's the weather. I got my tires switched and an oil change. It was more expensive than anticipated but nonetheless worth it! I'm terrified of driving in snow. I'm skittish enough as it is!!

Corey's getting sick again. His belly aches all the time. I wonder if it has anything to do with his nerve pain.

My poor baby..I just want him to feel better. I want to put some cheer into his holidays but it's difficult when he feels like crap all of the time! It's delayed everything, including his progress in life. I swear, it depresses him, and it's starting to wear on me too. But I won't leave his side. I care about him that much..

I watched The Bachelor last night. I don't even watch TV, but somehow I got hooked to The Bachelor of all shows. At the end, he didn't pick either girl. How sad. At first I was upset, because my girl (Jenni) made it to the final two. And of course, I was rooting for her. Probably because she (Jenni) reminded me of myself with that wide grin, giddy laugh, and concealed emotion. But he claimed that he didn't fall in love. And that's not his fault.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. You see, he had a house full of beautiful, sweet women, yet ended up alone. Luckily, he doesn't view love as a fickle thing. Neither do I. It takes time. Lots of time and a strong sense of connection. I've dated so many men and Corey's probably the first guy I've felt a genuine connection with. Ever, period. But I won't deem it "love" until I'm 100% certain that's what I'm feeling. That might be two weeks from now, two months from now, two years from now, tomorrow, never. Who knows. But I see where Mr. Brad Womack, the bachelor, is coming from.

People use love too loosely these days. Love is a big commitment. And Brad wasn't ready to take that leap without being 100% sure. So good for him.

We can't choose who or when we'll fall in love. But when we do, we should feel it. Fully, 100%

So when it happens, I want it to knock me off my feet and plop me on my ass. Gracefully, of course.

:)

What a Horndog..

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 21:41:20 GMT

I drove in snow for the first time today! I got giddy when it started to fall, a childlike enthusiasm. The urge to stick out my tongue was urgent and I happily let the snowflakes tickle my skin. Sounds funny, the excitement. But it doesn't snow where I'm from and it'll be my first Wisconsin winter! I'm thrilled today, but I don't know if the cold suits me. But it's fun, for now!

I need new car tires! Badly. And an oil change. Corey's supposed to take my car and get it for me while I'm at work. But he's fallen ill again. Same thing, that dreadful stomach pain he endures. I swear, it's all a side effect from the billions of medications he's been prescribed over the past two years. Since his back surgery.

It's hard sometimes. All week, he's been fine! It's been amazing. He cooks me dinner and we veg out in front of the TV, cuddle, talk. But the past two mornings he's abruptedly darted awake at 5 AM. He continues to pace all morning so my chances of shuteye become next to none. And he gets irritated with me due to his anxiety that accompanies the stomach pain. And his irritation makes me feel small and initimidated.

But other than these horrendous episodes, he's wonderful. Everything I want. And I'll chose to dwell on that. For now.

My friend, Andi, is flying to visit me!! For my birthday, around December 5th! I'm psyched. I think that's what I need, a taste of home.

I had a strange dream last night. I was climbing a high mountain and came across a polar bear. I sought protection in a nearby cave, only to encounter more polar bears. I found an opening and emerged into a park setting, playground and a vast expanse of grass.

I looked up dreams online ( http://www.bored.com/freakydreams/) and found that my dream was very symbolic. For instance, bears represent companionship and learning to trust somebody. The cave represents change and separation from loved ones, as well as female sexuality. That makes so much sense! I'm leaning to open up and trust, while dealing with the whole "sex" issue. So far, Corey hasn't really initiated the process. Which is fine, but I'll admit, I've been craving sex lately. With him, of course, but nonetheless I feel put off by the fact that he isn't all that interested in sleeping with me.

Our attraction is very tangible! But last night I was feeling frisky and rubbing his back and out of nowhere he asks, "Are you mad that we haven't had sex yet?" Shouldn't it be me asking him? The girl trying to dodge the man's advances? I feel like a pervert! If he's apt on waiting, why am I so impatient? Of course, I haven't voiced any truth on this topic. I just respond, "We should wait. Definitely." Because we should. Truthfully, it'll only strengthen the relationship in the long run.

He says he respects me because most girls he's dated he has scored with on the first or second night. And me, well I'm different. But I don't know if I like the celibacy title. I'd enjoy monogamous sex with the man I care about. Even though it's only been a month..I should cool my jets, eh?

Or buy a vibrator..

Her confidence is tragic, but her intuition magic.

Tue, 13 Nov 2007 16:56:43 GMT

Letting one's guard down can be an intimidating procedure. Everybody lets their guard down every once in a while. For instance, "letting your guard down" can be as simple as revealing a piece of information about yourself to another.

Corey and me went grocery shopping yesterday. And out of the blue, I was chewing over thoughts in my head. He hasn't seen his dad in ages and refuses to speak to him. Yet, he just acquired a new half-brother via his dad's new VERY young fling. Hence, one of the many reasons they're not on speaking terms.

Anyhow, I grabbed his hand and said randomly, "You know, you should talk to your Dad. I understand that you resent him right now but you'll regret not knowing your brother."

He kind of scoffed. Sometimes I think he takes me for a silly little girl. I am, but not quite.

"I found out that I had a new little brother because my Dad left pictures of him on my doorstep. No phone call, no letter. He was nearly three..." I divulged.

For a couple of seconds, my guard went down. As far as anybody's concerned, me and my Dad are good pals. We are, but my childhood was quite freckled with failure. It took a lot to get us where we are now.

I feel my guard going down daily. When I talk to my best friend, my guard is all but eliminated. I reveal thoughts, disadvantages, even weaknesses.

Sometimes when I lay next to Corey, my guard goes away and disappears somewhere sacred, only to return within a matter of minutes. But still, it's a step in the right direction.

I think letting one's guard down is healthy. I'm learning to adjust it's height as applicable. Right now, it's halfway down. But still armed and dangerous.

Yesterday was relaxing. Corey's dog, Penelope, is a character. She's always so wound up but every once in a while she'll cuddle in between the two of us and play nice. I'm not an animal fan (contrary to popular belief due to my veganism)! But it's a myth that I adore animals, because I don't. In fact, I prefer cats over dogs and wouldn't step foot on a farm. I don't like humans much either, but I don't go knawing away at their flesh, now do I? :)

Anyhow, back to Penelope. She's a real goofball and I'm getting attached to her. I think she's getting attached to me to because she always snuggles up with me and expresses her protectiveness over me. For instance, if she spots anything near me, she'll stand in front of me and bark protectively at the offending object. Including the fan. She thinks the fan is pure evil. It's hilarious. She's deaf too, shipped from a breeder in Columbia. Corey didn't have the heart to send her back. And I'm glad he didn't.

I could lay around with Corey all day, which is out of my character. I'm always in this horribly fast mindset. GO, GO, GO. He makes me want to slow down. And for some odd reason, it floats my boat.

His beard is getting longer and scruffier and I like it. It gives him a rugged edge on that chiseled face. Seriously, he's such a handsome man. I could stare at him all day..willingly.
:)

Work is getting repetitive. I rarely get customers and I'm perpetually bored. Usually boredom suits me. I don't mind it. Arizona was far too entertaining and I've settled into a slower pace quite nicely. But this realm of boredom is beyond dull.

I'm reading this comedic book about a man who decides to "live biblically" for a year. It's fascinating and clever. I'd reccomend it: "The Year of Living Biblically"--A.J. Jacobs

Going to go do some reading. Because work doesn't seem to be probable today. No tasks to perform!

I should stamp "DOORMAT" on my forehead.

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 17:25:32 GMT

I'm young. I find solace in my age, which I think I've previously stated.

Yesterday, me and Corey had our first fight. And I found security in the fact that I'M ONLY 18 YEARS OLD. I have my whole life ahead of me, if we look past multiple death factors. I'm still a little girl.

But I am SO JADED.
And that alone terrifies me. You see, I'm not afraid of being alone. I'm just disappointed that nobody ever feels sorry for bruising me. When I hurt somebody, I feel terrible. I feel the hurt in my bones, down to my toes, all over. But men can write me off in a matter of seconds without a backwards glance.

Shut their phone off. Lock their door. Say, "Fuck it," and forget. I wish I were normal and cold. I don't do the whole love thing and I'm far from a pansy, but I do have a heart.
Actually, I'm a pretty cold person. I'd rather forget than forgive and I have an easy on/off emotion switch. But if somebody I care about is hurt, it hurts me.

And that's what I think I realized last night. I'm not one of those "important" people to most.

Corey and me had a minor spat. But he was ready to end it.

Later on, after we met up and got past it, he revealed, "I'm sorry for earlier. Seeing you now reminds me of what I would have missed out on."

But it took seeing me to realize it. Not his own accord.

We're good now. I spent the night and mind you, we have NOT slept together yet. But it's comforting waking up next to him.

I used to have rules. Never stayed the night anywhere. But I've caved over the years and developed a sort of sensitive side. I cuddle. I'm affectionate. Loving if you will.

No, I'm not going to forget Corey or toss him aside like litter. But last night was an awakening. TREAD LIGHTLY.

I need to dip my feet in carefully, because the biting cold water isn't exactly welcoming. And I could end up sinking, rather than swimming.

Like I said, we're smitten today. But tomorrow is never a promise.

Man-hater

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 20:10:00 GMT

Brought Corey clothes yesterday! And he finally agreed to see me.

I was a bit standoffish at first. Then finally he said, "Do I get a hug?"

He's completely normal again. Thank God! No more hallucinations. Damn meds!

I've missed him. A LOT. I'm ridiculously attracted to him. Even in his haggard state. I couldn't stop touching him and kissing him. I was happy to see him, after all!!

I just hope they release him soon. They might try to reinstate a 72 hour hold and send him off to another city. Even though he's not a lunatic! I don't think they realize that every medicine he's ever taken has been LEGALLY PRESCRIBED. That's why I'm not a big fan of medications, even Tylenol.

I wanted to wrap him up and take him home.

Anyhow, my Mom produced a valid point while we grocey shopped yesterday. I complained about this and that, about every bad quality Corey possessed. Thoroughly picked him apart. She stopped me. And uttered, "You're never going to be happy if you only dwell on people's flaws. Nobody is perfect. You will never find the perfect man. And he doesn't sound too terrible."

I haughtily scoffed, "I believe in perfection."

"Too bad you're the only one," she countered. "And he doesn't sound half bad."

She is so right. He's an upstanding fellow and I've fallen hard.

I use complaints as a defense mechanism. Because if I admitted my true feelings, I don't think I could handle it. For instance, I'd rather blame the demise of my relationships on someone else rather than myself. Plus, it makes me feel better to bash men. Because I've been bashed on the head so many times.

I'm kind of a man-hater.

But I need to take a deep breath and try my hardest to focus on the good, rather than the bad. I need to stop overanalyzing.

I like Corey. Deeply. End of story.

Bah.

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 19:55:28 GMT

Corey's been moved to the psych ward. His hallucinations haven't subsided. His Mother & I can't even visit or inquire about his condition until he signs a release form. Until then, we're oblivious.

It's torture. I hope they're treating him well!!

I've been in a mental hospital. For about two weeks. Forced to eat my salad with a spoon, as opposed to a fork, due to a potential "sharp weapon danger". It was nuts. I met this girl named Aubrie there. We became fast friends and decided to make ourselves roommates. Kicked her cell mate out and hid make-up underneath our pillow cases. It was quite an event. At night, we'd climb on top of our dressers and stared outside the barred windows, planned our escape. Surveyed the best routes out of Crazyland. We were the most normals people there. Made friends with the counselors.

Good time.

Anyhow, I just received a phone call in the middle of my entry! I guess Corey's doing considerably better this morning. I tried calling, but they assured me he's resting.

I miss him..ugh, I'm corny.

My shoulders feel heavy..

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 16:53:56 GMT

I think I just need a hug...

The weather is gloomy, dotted with whispers of wind and rain. The sun hasn't punctuated the clouds since early this morning and my mood is spiraling down, down, down.

I've been in and out of the hospital all week. Corey is hallucinating due to his steady med stream. He's uttering nonsense and constantly talking to himself. I met his Mom. Under normal circumstances, I think we'd get along properly but I didn't have much to say to her. Although I think I won her over with my fake facade. Think sunshine Barbie on Prozac.

Anyhow, I'm tired. I think it comforted Corey, somewhat, that I was there. He woke up, bewildered, every two minutes and scanned the room in terror. Once he settled on my face, he managed to settle his panic and close his eyes. Only to wake up again and repeat the same process.

In his delirium, he mistook me for his ex-girlfriend, Shannon, twice. TWICE. I couldn't handle it anymore. I've been by his side as often as I can, but it really hurt my feelings. My Mom thinks it's fickle to sweat it. After all, he is loopy on God knows what medications. But nonetheless, it was painful to hear him utter her name in place of my own. I told him to get some rest and reminded him he could call me if he needed me.

He took me up on that offer. Several times. He was incoherent during every conversation. He even called me Phil, his buddy from high school, during one grey moment. He's so fuzzy and I just want him to get better. And stop calling me Shannon.

I cringe just thinking about it..

Anyhow, the phone calls streamed from 10 PM to 4 AM and I answered patiently every time. And humored his accusations. He began getting paranoid, asked if I was talking to my ex-boyfriend. Which is so far fetched, because I've never kept in contact with an ex. EVER. What's done is done. I don't dwell. Once again, maybe he's confusing me with his ex-girlfriend. Should I be worried that he's not over her? Or just blame it on the medication? My Mom thinks I'm ridiculous and shouldn't think twice about it. After all, he's in a hospital, pumped full of crap.

Eventually, I drifted into an alert sleep, which was cut short by yet another phone call. Two, as a matter of fact. From my best friend, Justina. I figured it was important, so I called her back and politely asked if I could call her in the morning. She screamed, "Fuck You!"

Really mature. What a great girl, eh?

I called her back, baffled.
"What the hell is your problem?" I inquired.

She yelled, "Fuck You," even louder and hung up on me. I'm still unsure as to what I did, but I'm not going to be a little bitch and ask. She needs to apologize before I even agree to speak with her. It's improper etiquette to call and harass somebody at 2 in the morning because you're in a pissed off mood and need an ear lent to you. I think she was peeved because I didn't answer. But that's no reason to violently curse at me with no explanation.

Fucking bitch. I love her to death, but she really demonstrates a lack of class sometimes.

My alarm clock rang at seven, due to my mammogram appointment. They conducted an ultra sound first, due to my lack of age, and decided the "lump" was benign and not worth examining further. I'm supposed to screen and monitor it monthly, but it's low risk.

Congratulations to me! That was the highlight of my day.

Tried calling Corey's hospital phone. He didn't answer. I hope he's sleeping. They won't feed him or give him water because they need to run more tests. He's starving and parched and I hate to watch him in this state. If he calls me Shannon again, I don't know if I can handle it. I've brought him fresh clothes and toiletries and I get off at two so I'll head down to the hospital around that time.

I'm kind of drained. And the weather sucks.
I hate depression. I'll paint on my happy face in a little bit..
Right now, I want to sulk.

Worry wart.

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 17:46:47 GMT

Corey's at the ER again. For stomach pain. And anxiety. I hate to publically disclose his problems, so that's the extent of what I'll divulge. But it worries me. SO MUCH. I've become sort of a crutch and I welcome the responsibility. It's my maternal nature, and I've grown an uncharacteristic attachment to his needs. I don't just need to help him, I actually want to. And trust me, I'm a pretty cold girl towards relationships, so this is scary. I generally separate "relationship" and "friendship" into different categories, but Corey is my friend and my lover.

So I feel double the terror.

Anyhow, I'm the manager of a mattress retailer. I'm the ONLY person in the store at all times. Therefore, leaving is out of the question. I'm rooted here all day and night, even during lunch. Corey phoned and asked if I could swing by and pick him up from the ER. Plus, his anxiety was practically crippling his sanity. He could hardly mumble sensible thoughts. God, it's so worrisome! I called my boss and there's no glimmer of hope for early release. Meaning, I can't leave until 9 PM and it's only noon!!

I'm literally sick with worry.

Anyhow, my biopsy results came back. Flagged as minor. Only mild dysplasia. What a relief.

By the way, I haven't engaged in sexual intercourse with Corey yet. Only light foreplay. Partially due to circumstance. He's been sick and I had been worried about my biopsy. But we discussed sex, as well. And deemed it better to hold off. Which isn't common in our past relationships. But I think we're both on the same page when it comes to the way we feel about one another. It's still so fresh and new, but there's this tangible connection. A bond.

My bank account is dwindling due to late fees. I hate the fact that I just got paid and they raked over a hundred dollars from my colorful abundance. Fuckers.

I need new tires for my car. A singular apartment (I don't want roommates!) A winter wardrobe. New shoes. A haircut. Acryllics. Blah, blah, blah. Life is expensive.

Although life is certainly rich these days! I can't help but smiling. I feel less bi-polar than ever, and more stable.

I just re-read, geez I'm boring :)

Sun, 28 Oct 2007 18:42:44 GMT

Woke up late this morning. Accidentally slept in after I hit "off" on the alarm clock, rather than "snooze". Oops.

Fortunately, got to work right on time.

While mindlessly perusing the internet, it kind of hit me. I'm scared. I feel pretty intensely about Corey. This doesn't happen to me. Honestly, I don't ever meet guys and click right away. I pretend to, but in the back of my mind there's always nagging uncertainty. I don't have that with him. The uncertainty, it's eliminated. In place of it is fear.

We've promised to take it day by day. And we haven't even had sex yet. Nor do we plan to for a while. It's comforting to know that I have such an intense connection with someone I'm not even sexually involved with. I know that it's not just misconstrued lust. Although our attraction is tangible. Mmmhmm.

I've been putting in a lot of work hours.
Halloween is creeping around the corner. I work open to close, which sucks. I was looking forward to seeing my little brothers and sisters in their Halloween costumes. Adam is going to be the black Spiderman. Michael's costume is a police officer. Christina is going to be Hannah Montana. My Mom & me browsed the costume section at various stores but sizes weren't reliable and a lot were sold out. So I have to run over some skirts and T-shirts that fit the "Hannah Montana" profile. We bought her a blond wig and some bangles. The kids are going to be adorable!!

http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c281/superslut6969/2002947.jpg

:)
I'm not dressing up this year. Last year I bought a revealing maid costume from Triangles. I'll recycle it if need be, but I don't know if I'm doing anything to celebrate. Besides handing out candy to late night trick-or-treaters.

Geez, I'm boring.

Smitten.

Sat, 27 Oct 2007 18:12:48 GMT

I'm smitten. With Corey. Yeah, it's nice.

:)
I even like his puppy, Penelope. She's a pain in the ass, but so adorable.

I know it's still soon and I don't want to jinx anything by moving too fast. Or jeopardize it by exclaiming how happy I am so far. But he stopped into work unexpectedly to bring me muffins & coffee, and I've been smiling ever since.

In other news, my biopsy results haven't came in yet. I hope that points in a good direction. I feel relieved because I hear it's a very common thing. My close friend, Sarah, even had a colposcopy & biopsy. Nowadays, she's happily pregnant, regularly examined, and normal.

Well, that's all for now, I suppose.
:)

Leap frog

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 16:45:03 GMT

My "date" last night was wonderful. But it wasn't my conventional idea of a date.

I've met a guy. His name is Corey. He's fragile but strong, and I'm intrigued by him. We drove through Culver's and ordered some phenomenal fries!

He has some health complications that stem from a military injury. His back aches a lot and he takes prescription pills to numb the pain. Normally, I'd be skeptical of his actions, like when he calls me "tired". But I know he's genuine. And I don't want to rush into anything. Not this time.

I always leap.

With Corey, slow and steady will win the race. I think we're on the same page. He has these amazing high cheekbones and a beyond handsome face. But it's his personality that really has me hooked. He's endured a lot and still has the stamina to take life in strides.

We'll see where it goes.

In other news, I had to get a colposcopy yesterday. A couple areas on my cervix weren't kosher, so they had to perform a biopsy and remove samples. I'll find out the results..hopefully soon!

I'm hungry. I've been eating like a cow. And today has to be a "healthy" day. So I guess I'll go heat up a Lean Gourmet and peal a banana.

:)

I did it..

Sun, 21 Oct 2007 20:41:31 GMT

Broke up with Ben.

Told him we lacked communication which is essential for relationship growth. He said he was sorry, but I don't think he knew quite what he was apologizing for..
So, we're officially over.

Going on a date tonight. With Corey.

I kind of hate my apathy. I don't really feel much when I sever ties.

I go through men like toilet paper.

My new fetish is serial monogamy. I'm a very independent girl. But I love being in a relationship. For the sheer purpose of having a boyfriend. It's easier to make excuses that way.
"Well, I would, but me & my boyfriend have plans." Or, "I'm sorry. Can't talk right now. The boyfriend is calling."

And it gives me a thriving social life. Never bored and lonely when you have a warm body next to you.

Wow, I am cold. I keep wishing that Prince Charming will ride in on his horse and prove to me I'm not a heartless bitch. Hell, who am I kidding? I'll settle for a knight in shining armor.

Letters..ER

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 14:43:26 GMT

Sorry I've been slacking on my letters, pen pals!!! I normally respond the day I receive! But I've been SWAMPED at work. Today & tomorrow we're having our breakfast bonanza. So far, I've only had TWO customers total, which is a lot lower than I projected. I wanted swarms of people to show up. I DO work on commission! Although if my numbers drop, I get put on hourly.

Anyhow, I don't have any notebook paper with me. I searched the whole store and all we have is copy paper. So I had good intentions! I've already written half a letter on notebook paper..so forgive me if half your letter is on notebook paper, and the other half is sloppily scribbled on copy paper! :)

My Dad called this morning. I'm kind of home sick. At the same time, I'd never move back to Arizona. But I'm craving a brief visit.

Me & Ben are "on the rocks" in my mind. Maybe I should give him the memo. I just can't be with somebody who doesn't entice me. But at the same time, I don't want to end it. Because I hate bruising people's feelings. And he's so fragile...!

I met a guy. It sounds horrible, I know. I don't cheat, but I sometimes stray. Mentally, that is.

His name is Corey. He knows I'm in a relationship, so we decided to meet for food. Not a date, mind you. He hadn't shaved in weeks, which gave him a scruffily handsome appeal. Anyhow, it went well. Until he contracted food poisoning and I had to sit in the ER while he continuously convulsed due to violent chills and frequent vomit spells.

Corey called me a couple of times yesterday. And thanked me for driving him the emergency room. I think he's beginning to fancy my company.

I rarely see my boyfriend. He surprised me by showing up at my work yesterday. For about ten minutes. He seemed more chipper than usual, and I liked it.

Hairy hag muahaha

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 17:08:55 GMT

I seriously need to pluck my eyebrows. I keep putting it off. I hate plucking them. Maybe I'll go get them waxed. My Mom used to take me to get them waxed in the fourth grade. One time, the skin tore and bled, and the waxer informed me that I had sensitive skin. NO SHIT. The sacrifices women make for beauty..

If we all stopped plucking our eyebrows and shaving our legs, we'd be one happy, hairy bunch.

Ben has been sick for the past few weeks. Our limited conversation has regressed to guttural grunts and more silent breathing. It's about time to call it quits.
But I'm so ridiculously nice that I'd hold on forever if it meant he'd hurt less. Not that we've been dating long. It would probably be a mere pebble thrown in his path, rather than an asteroid. Nonetheless, I'd feel like a real jackass.

I've been feeling fat lately. I joined the YMCA but my motivation level is practically non-existant. I need to get my ass in gear! Before my scale buckles. Hah.

Ben NEVER calls me beautiful anymore. I guess his illness has really impacted his manners.

I guess I lack self esteem. I need to be reminded that I'm pretty in order to feel okay. It's sick. I thrive off of compliments.

And sometimes I think she's truly crazy..

Sat, 13 Oct 2007 19:11:39 GMT

Ballin!!

Not really, but I did get paid yesterday.

Minutes ago, a young woman drifted into my store. She was selling healing jewelery. I bought fourty dollars worth of amethyst. I don't even wear jewelery.

Anyhow, the bracelet occupies my wrist now. It cultivates psychic ability and promotes health. Plus, it's pretty.

The girl was from Nepal. We exchanged conversation. She told me that I'm pretty enough to be a model. She spoke fragmented English, but very understandably. I took an instant liking to her. I'm an easy customer, the kind one wants. Because one can lure me to buy anything, regardless of my budget.
I accepted her email address and plan on writing to her.

I'm discouraged about school. Out of state tuition is nuts! I think I'm going to major in English, rather than journalism. I can do more with an English degree. Although a substance abuse counselor occupation allures me. I'm very passionate about people and their well being.

My best friend is going to be a flight attendant. She wants me to accompany her in her conquest. I'm chewing it over, although I doubt I would ever go through with it. The pay is good for someone of my caliber. No college degree, under twenty-one. Folks, I'm only 18! A flight attendant would be a suitable job! I could travel, write, make more money than I'm making now. And really, really analyze my options.

Plus, what am I doing in Wisconsin? I don't belong here.

Ben's certainly not providing me with an adequate reason to stay. All we do on the phone is breathe. And it's not a comfortable silence. It's a bored, pregnant pause that lasts and lasts. I don't know if he'll ever develop conversational skills and I'm sick of one-sided dialogue. I want somebody a little bit more alive. His dullness drains my enthusiasm. Our relationship is a waste of time, it's pathetically dwindling away. And yet, at the same time, I don't want to tack another failure onto my list. And rouse rumors of inadequacy.

I'm never enough.

What a little pessimist, I am.
Actually, I find the glass of half full. Life is brilliant. I want to grip it's rope and swing as fast and far as it'll allow.

I don't think Wisconsin is the extent of life's rope.

In Wisconsin's defense, I'd miss my Mom and siblings. Terribly. No, worse than that. I love them so much. They're my life.

**Right as I was about to click the "post" button, Ben called. And we had a better-than-usual conversation. Minimal silent breathing. You see, life is funny that way. I retract my previous complaints. Almost.**

Oh happy day

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 17:47:48 GMT

Brrrr.

The weather has rapidly shifted. It's biting and chilly outside. Feels like an Arizona winter, but it's only a Wisconsin precursor to fall. Grrrreat...NOT.

I looked up the weather back home. It's still in the ninety's during the day, seventies at night. I have a grim winter wardrobe. It includes trendy wisps of jacket and one or two sweaters. I'm not prepared for snow either. I've never driven in it before. It's kind of depressing. Weather drastically impacts my mood. Clouds are disheartening, rain puts me in a thick funk. I hate rain and dark skies and overcast days. Most people love thunderstorms and the like but I'd rather it be sunny all the time.

Where did summer go? Just yesterday I was frying underneath the sun at Miller Park.

Work is dragging, once again. One of our employees quit, which will pile on more hours to my already full schedule. I need the money. So I'll bite back the complaints.

In other news, I'm out of shampoo. And don't get paid until tomorrow. Since my direct deposit hasn't went into effect yet, I have to cash the check manually. Therefore, with my ridiculous workload I don't know when I'll get a free day to do so. I believe I overdrafted my checking account and my credit cards are maxed and overdue. I'm thrifty. But I'm a compulsive spender. It's an addiction of sorts.

Anyhow, this addiction has left me with insufficient funds. And no shampoo. I've been using Suave body wash to clean my hair. It works better than shampoo, in my opinion. And smells better than Pantene. I have an abundance of conditioner and soap. So the next few penniless days will go smoothly.

Now, if only my gas tank were full..

"You're by far the weirdest girl I've ever dated."

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 17:17:47 GMT

Sex hasn't been feeling pleasurable lately..

Ben got his car fixed. He drove to my house last night, showed up looking cute and comfy in maroon sweats and a matching jacket. He had a Scheel's gift certificate so I went with him to raid the aisles a couple of days ago. He made out with a hefty bag of clearanced clothing.

I'm crazy. Ben confirmed so last night.

"You're pretty nuts. It drives me nuts."

"So you think I'm nuts?" I quizzed.

"You're by far the weirdest girl I've ever dated."

Sex. Hurts. I don't know if it's due to lack of lubrication, or something more severe. I had a pap smear less than a month ago, but wasn't experiencing these problems then. I think it's more mental than anything. I haven't been able to enjoy it. I know it's a stereotypical symptom of rape victims, but I haven't ever harbored inadequacy in the bedroom. Or disgust. I feel disgusted sometimes. It's not him, I keep trying to explain that it's NOT HIM. It's me..it's always me.

How do you explain to a guy that sometimes your skin crawls at the mere thought of coarse caresses? Is it possible for somebody to understand? I need to be held like a breakable baby sometimes, cradled, with no sexual initiation in order to feel safe. I've never had any trouble performing before though. This is entirely new.

I go through with it, the intercourse, to satisfy him. I didn't even come last night. Not once..not even through foreplay which generally opens the door to my euphoria.

He's more receptive after sex. Even though I doubt he has much to disclose. I find him boring sometimes.

"When you were a kid, did you have imaginary friends?" I ask.

"No."

"I did. Three. There names were Peter, Michael, and Sarah. Sarah wore a yellow dress. Michael a purple shirt, Peter a green sweater," I share.

The conversation shifts to sex. Most guys only use the perverted part of their brains anyway, so it's not a sunny surprise.

He admits that he's been with less than a hundred girls, but more than fifty.

I know that he's lying. His sexual performance is generic. In order to succeed in scoring with over fifty women, one must certainly be a SEX GOD.

A sex God, Ben is not. A nice guy, however, Ben embodies. He's not so nice, I can tell. It's an initial persona that he wears on his sleeve. Strings of sentimentality are rarely sincere. Any guy that jumps to romance you with clever cliches is bound to get laid often. So I do believe, somewhat, that he has no trouble finding sexual partners. It is hard for me to believe that the number escalates past fifty. He lives in a tiny town. He's only twenty years old. I find him irresistable, but friends of mine have scoffed haughtily at his picture, expressing, "Amber, what are you thinking? You're way out of his league."

So I tell him truthfully, "I don't believe you. I do believe that you have no trouble getting laid. Because you are a nice guy. Nice guys, contrary to popular belief, get laid much more than bad boys. And since you have the 'nice guy' thing figured out, it eliminates the trouble of seeking pussy. Pussy finds you. I don't, however, believe that you've slept with that many women. Considering the fact that you've supposedly been in two long commited relationships. And live in a very small town..."

I trail off. I want to finish, "And you don't know anything about fine cuisine. Fazolis is not high class. Generally, I make a guy feed me exquisitely, before I accompany the notches in his bedpost. I don't know why I made an exception for you. These fifty plus women must be whores, trashy, or cheap."

But I keep my mouth shut. I'm getting better at that.

I ineffectively change the subject. I badger him with ridiculous questions. "If you were a color, what color would you be?"

"Clear."

"Now it's your turn to ask me a question," I chirp.

"Why don't you trust me?" Oh Lord. Ben has this unwavering emphasis on trust. I've concealed, until now, my reasons. But my paranoia really rouses his sanity.

"Look, Ben. I don't trust anyone. It takes time."

Silence.

"With time..."

He rolls over, faces the wall.

"I'm sorry." God dammit, I'm always apologizing for something or another. For my craziness or lack of trust or whatever.

"Look, Ben. I've been raped twice. Molested. Dragged through hell and back by every man who's ever touched me. My Dad, growing up, had a new girlfriend every week. I used to sleep on countless floor, listened to the muffled sounds of consumation. I always knew too much," I confide.

It is a piece. Just a piece of my shame exposed, to prod and pick apart.

But he does no such thing. Just stares off into space, avoids my eyes, averts them towards the unremarkable wall.

For once, dear God, I want somebody to hold me when I convey my weaknesses. Hold me tight and promise me salvation. It's too much to ask. I only get gruff grunts or nods of acknowledgement. Or complete silence.

As if I hadn't just divulged something sacred. As if a piece of my heart wasn't just torn and stripped and left raw and pathetically pulsating. As if I hadn't even spoken at all.

I don't know why I bother to talk. People would find me less strange if I kept quiet. Less strange and far more appealing.

I went to sleep in silence last night. He didn't even make a move to kindly cradle me.

It's okay. At least he makes me laugh with his boyish charm. Snaps towels to torment me playfully, smacks my butt when I least expect it, wrestles away my strength and sometimes lets me pin him. I like it when we goof. I like it when he teases, plays. I feel like a little kid at those moments.

I woke up in his arms. I somehow found my way to him during the night. Nestled myself in the nook of his arm and stayed put.

Arms are my favorite part of the male body. They make me feel secure, safe. Like a steel shield. A subtle shelter.

I bid him good-bye this morning.

"Still think I'm weird?" I prodded.

"Yeah, you're the weirdest person I've ever met." He says this with all seriousness.

"You can find a normal girlfriend. If you'd like..I don't want to tie you down." I'm testing him, knowing that I'll scare him away eventually. He mind as well back out now. Spare me the lines of dialogue I'll undoubtedly waste on him.

"No, you're doing okay...so far. I mean, as long as you don't get worse," he tells me.

I want to laugh. Instead I bite bitchily, "I don't walk on eggshells for people. Don't think you're any exception."

He looks startled. Intensity scares people. The world is made up of a bunch of sad fucks with synthetic emotions. Sad is acceptable. Depressed is not. Anger is acceptable. Rage is frowned upon. Love is acceptable. Passion is scary.

At least when I feel, I really, really feel.

His expression softens my demeanor. I wish, for the thousandth time, that I could cage my personality. Or at least extract the variables that push people away. I want somebody to push back, one of these times. Shove back, with all their force. Knock me on my ass. I want to be put in my place. Ben won't be the one to do so. He might use petty plugs to pinpoint my surface flaws. But he doesn't know me well enough to really sting.

I relent. "But I do love you. Just know that."

Drip, drip, DROP

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 16:27:38 GMT

Okay, so remember how the toilets in my house weren't working? Well I awoke two nights ago to the sound of dripping water. Thinking it was the God awful rain, I began closing the windows throughout the house. To my horror, I realized that the source of the water was coming from inside, not outside.

Possibly minutes, maybe hours before, the upstairs (keep in mind, we have three stories) bathroom had overflowed, spilled down to the second, even third floor. The sewage water seeped into the walls, onto the carpet, the tiles, everywhere imaginable! Except my room, thank God! Anyhow, my step-father, Mario, had to rush over with the Wet Vac to sponge up the water. Luckily, every inch was dry when my Uncle returned home from his business trip to Spain. Yes, kiddies, I live with my Uncle. It's my job to take care of the mammoth house while he's gone. Not flood it.

Last night I went over to Ben's. Tonight I'll do the same. I've kept "bitchy" in my back pocket the last couple of days, so the poor guy is probably relieved. I feel like the man in our relationship sometimes. Today, I'm driving to see him, once again. And this weekend I'll probably pay for dinner. It's not his fault. His bank account is frozen until late October. But I'm starting to come around to the "let's half the bill" philosophy. I've obtained a glimpse of what males go through. And it isn't fun to milk your own bank account.
Unless it's for a good cause. Like charity. Or killer shoes.

PMS: bring out the bitch in you

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 17:57:42 GMT

Today is certainly NO BUENO. I'm sure it'll look up because my days have a cute little way of flipping the script on me. Or maybe it's my moods that fluctuate, rather than the day itself...

Anyhow, the radio station WIXX 101.1 called me this morning upon my arrival at work. I've been entered into a contest to win a designer purse. Excelente!

In other news, I am sick. Not deathly ill, with a roaring fever, but ill enough to notice. In addition, a migraine is looming. I can tell. In the shower, I adjusted my vision to accurately classify my armpit stubble: to shave or not to shave. And I felt a shooting pain between my eyes, more toward the left of my cranium. Damn status migrainous, another fun condition I'm gifted with. It doesn't bug me often. But when it hits, it hits hard and punches me repeatedly in the head for hours, even days. Maybe it'll subside!

After my shower, I had the immediate urge to use the potty. Unfortunately, all four toilets in the house are out of service. I've been using my work toilet..it's comical, but more of a nuisance. I don't know whether or not to call a plumber. I can't afford it and wonder if it's difficult to fix manually..if not, I could give it a shot! Ms. Fix It, haha.

I called my Mom to complain. I would have called Justina (my best friend) to complain, but she just got out of jail for underage drinking. I doubt she wants to hear about clogged toilets.

My Mom is kindly going to buy me a plunger. Not that it'll help, because their not clogged. There's just something wrong with them. But she reasons that I'll likely need a plunger in the future.

I've been living off of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. Mmm apetizing. Actually, I like PB&J..but not every day.

And Ben..I keep getting moody with him. It'll undoubtedly push him away. But who cares, I push everyone away.

Damn PMS..it really brings out the bitch in me.

Drunk driving..bi-polar bee-yotch

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 21:23:07 GMT

If I believed in self-medication, I'd need a super strong dose of sanity. Normal: extra strength.

I snapped at my boyfriend, Ben, today. LAME. There was no credible reason. It just happens. Miniscule things trigger it. And I've never been one to bite my tongue.

I apologized. He relented, forgave me. "I love you too," he mumbled after a million meaningless retractions tumbled out of my mouth. Since when did I become such a sissy?

But I truly am sorry. It's not right to snap at people. Namely, someone as sweet as Ben. Even my big ferocious rottweiler turns into pliable putty around him..
He spent the night last night. Ben, that is.
I love waking up next to him. Sounds cheesy, but it's true. We don't do a whole lot of spooning. I fall asleep in his arms but wake up on an opposite end of the mattress. It may signify that I subconsciously push people away.
Or scare them away. Case in point, my dramatic performance earlier.

I had a fabulous customer today. Her name was Shirlie. She bought an arm and a leg and than some..but the real attribute was Shirlie's personability. We chatted about different weather in different states. About my transitional move from Arizona to Wisconsin. And relatives- we chatted about relatives.
Then, the conversation shifted to bad habits.
Her bad habit is smoking.
"I quit once," she admitted. "Before my son died."
"How long ago was that?" I inquired.
"About fourteen years ago. He was only 21."
"How horrific, how did he die?" I pursued.
"An accident."
"My cousin just died in an accident," I divulged. "Right before I moved to Wisconsin. Three months ago."
"Hm. How---?"
I cut her off, "We were close as kids. Two weeks apart. Grew up together..."
"How did he die," she braved.
"He was drinking. And driving. Drinking and driving. Hit into a pole..." I trailed off.
"My son was hit by a drunk driver."

Alcohol. Aside from the fact that I ALWAYS wear my seatbelt, I refuse to drink and drive. At least I NOW refuse to drink and drive. Three months ago, it was a different story. Drinking always went hand in hand with driving home. It eliminated the "meet and greet" component. I hated waking up, sleep & mascara caked in my eyes, missing a shoe, an article of clothing or two, and having to stumble and weave my way through a mass of other booze inebriated teens. So I always took my chances driving home. I liked leaving fashionably early, rather than late. It made me feel whole.

Then Nick died. The panic that crept and knotted in the base of my throat is indescribable. That fatal phone call sucked the air right out of my lungs, right out of my body, right out of my soul. I cried. No, I bawled.

Drinking and driving is not okay.

In fact, the glitz and glamour associated with alchohol no longer lures me to indulge on a regular basis. It's not as fun anymore. Sobriety is by far the best anti-drug. I feel clean all over when I turn down beverages. And clean is a great feeling.

Anyhow, the point of this blog was to explain what a bi-polar bitch I am. But I guess I got sidetracked...

Time to input some credit memos. Whoop de dee Whoop de day!
:)