Just Sayin'

I'm finding I've been saying a lot of dumb or inappropriate or nonsensical things lately. Like I'm trying to be funny and fit in (maybe that's the problem... that I'm trying) and I make a reference or allusion to something I figure people will get -- even reference to a past conversation we had -- and either it takes them a minute or a lifetime but they don't quite get what I'm on about.

I don't blame the audience, I blame the speaker. I'm just having a hard time now knowing whether I should keep practicing at speaking and at social interaction in order to get better, or whether I should just shut the fuck up.

I can notice thought that my speech centre isn't as good as it used to be. I can't figure out how to pronounce anything anymore ("daquiri" comes to mind) and I have a hard time organizing my orally-delivered thoughts. Maybe writing too much *does* shunt brain power over the silent form of word-delivery.

I don't know.

I just know I'd like to stop feeling like such a douche.

Glad you've found IT

This is a letter to you.

I'm excited. I'm excited for you. Of course, it sounds like you have some battles ahead, but at least you've found your PASSION again.

You want a good body, you want a good life, you've found a new hobby; you've found your new wife.

It's as though I've been living on a sunny grassy field, and I wanted to show you how warm and bright it is, but you're stuck standing under the shade of the tree and I couldn't figure out how to pull you out from under it. You were too heavy. You would panic when I took your hand. I wasn't sure if I had to walk away or if I could coax you somehow out into the sun.

But somehow this last week you did it when I wasn't looking: you walked out.

I know that you're in that good place now because I'm jealous of you. You have the excitement of career discovery ahead of you (I've done a bit of mine already, so those early tremulous days are gone for me) and it seems exciting. I see you creating real things, things people will use, things that will outlast you -- just what you wanted.

I'm really happy that you've put away some of the substances that were distracting you, making you feel good but making your brain lazy. I know they're not gone, but it's a good thing they're on vacation. You came back to the world. You came back to visit me, and to live with me in the world for at least a while.

I feel like you've overcome some hurdle somewhere.. and I'm not sure when or where it happened, but if you figure it out please let me know.

I don't think I'm impatient anymore to begin a life together. I feel like it has already started.

Thank you for coming back to consciousness, to the will to really, really live.

Yes, it's scary, but what else is there?

So happy. So happy.

Did Ricki Lake just inspire me?

It doesn't matter what she does, I'll always know Ricki Lake from "Hairspray," a film made almost 20 years ago -- a film I remember watching with a cousin down in Cali.

I was just getting coffee (a capp really) and saw her on the latest cover of US or whatever the mag was, and she's like 123lbs now. She had been stuck at 160lbs (pretty much my weight) for awhile but took two months to go down to 135lbs for a special occasion -- her giving-birth movie hitting the Tribeca film festival.

Anyhow, I've wanted to do the same (lose weight, not give birth) since 2003. Twenty-five pounds is the difference between passing on going to the pool because it's easier to not wear a swimsuit and, er, not passing.

So yeah. When I did it before, it meant going to the gym. Doing weights. Being very vegetarian, and getting faint-feeling. Gah. Am I ready? Will I be happy?

Pus in boots

They way people look at me sometimes you'd think I had a ball of pus ballooning out of my head.

PEOPLE ARE DUMB

So, like, it's not rocket science, eh? The cordless phone my roomate has is 2.4 GHz. It says so on the phone. Whenever the phone is in use, it seems that the Internet quits. The Internet is connected wirelessly, through a Linksys router. I suspected by this strange coincidence that the Linksys box must be using roughly the same frequency, and hence is getting garbled by the phone. (I even google "linksys GHz" and get back references to 2.4 GHz, so even without going and looking at the router, I'm pretty confident in my diagnosis. Like five-nine confident.)

So my roomate says something about talking to the landlord about the phone / internet thing and I try to tell her that they're competing on the same frequency and she gives me that look. Like I just shat on the living room carpet. Like I'm the dumbest dumb. Like whatever I just said has 0 per cent chance of being true.

Just because she's too fucking dumb to understand frequency, and I'm too fucking smart to now donate a few minutes to explain I did signal processing courses in school, and that yeah.. it's not rocket science. Because I know what will happen.

The dumb bitch will turn around and complain to the landlord about it tomorrow. Like he's suddenly going to turn the world of physics upside down.

So, to all the guys I accused in the past of being small-minded... the ones who assumed that I was dumb and couldn't know anything about anything because I was a girl.... I'm sorry. Women obviously also think I'm a complete fucktard. It must be something about the way I look.

Maybe because I'm a habitual mouth-breather.

ARGH.

I really, really hate people.

Oh, and I was already mad at this dumbass lady for claiming ownership of a plastic chair I was using as a place to throw my bag and coat onto in my room. The chair was left by previous tenants... she wants to use it with the second chair on the porch to smoke with her friend. For always.

She tells me I'll just have to get another chair. Like... why is the damn chair hers in the first place? It was found here. I FOUND IT. I USED IT. There was a second chair too I left out on the porch...why does Ms selfish-pants need them both???

Fine, I agree that overall it's a petty argument to be involved in. But it's her arrogance and entitlement and sense of superiority (which is lame to have when you're...er...NOT superior by any means) that bugged me. Biatch don't know a thang about this ho.

I'm just tired of living with selfish people. I thought I'd left that behind me a few years ago, but I guess this is what happens when you don't expend oodles of energy to pre-screen people you might want to live with. I miss my old house. Living with five awesome respectful people is sooo much better than having a big room, big house, and two roomates, when one of those roomates is a selfishy-selfish.

So fine, the stupid, ugly, unhealthy paunchy cow wins. She gets her plastic chair, and I had to walk out to Superstore and buy myself one, even though I'm leaving this hole in three months. Fine. Whatever. Just so long as everyone knows that the first opportunity I get I'm dumpstering the patio furniture so that no one gets to enjoy it. You want petty? Yeah, I can be petty.

Actually, you know what? I'm going to name a dumbass character in a novel after her. Congratulations. You win. Yeah. You totally win, lady.

Dorkface

I know you found this blog dorkface. You cheated! You were supposed to use physical clues, not e-cheats. Call me when you see this, dork.

Today's musings - on feeling lonely, an outsider

On the bus ride home today from my second home-office I typed up to following page on my laptop. The electric trolley buses are so smooth and quiet, which makes laptopping on them very much possible when the crowds are down. I'm facing the prospect now of being away from my love for the better part of a few -- we plan to visit each other for some weekends, but neither of us have much money to waste on flights. Also, I've been in a long distance relationship before (he hasn't) and I know that "plans" don't really work out in them. You always have to improvise. I'm torn, becuase I feel like I'm asking too much of him, and yet I wish he'd just give more so that I didn't have to ask. Maybe I resent him a little bit. Anyhow, I wish I could start to seriously consider building a life with him, but he hasn't shown me definitively that he's interested in that sort of thing with me... on my terms. So I keep having to wonder if I should just split before we do get in too deep? Is this relationship doomed and I just don't want to see it? Is he more into the concept of love than actually in love with me. I mean.. I am a tough person to love. Anyway.. this is what came out of my bus trip... no edits:

I feel pressure. I feel pressure that my life is evaporating before my eyes. I have to make choices. I have to make friends, not enemies. People must like me for me to succeed. I feel I have deep character flaws and I’m not sure I can overcome them in time, if ever. I’ve wanted out so many times, but I know that continuing would just piss off those who hate me already; so it makes sense to keep going. It’s also more interesting, and I keep thinking I’ll one day learn something profound. I know I’m probably fooling myself in that.

I feel pressure to know that you’re right for me. I feel pressure to choose you, and I don’t know if I can ever be confident that you’re what I need. I don’t know what I need. All I know is that my desires are probably unattainable. I know my desires exceed the average person’s. I want world-class romance, and surprises. I want to be made to feel like the most special woman who ever graced this earth. It’s as though I’m looking, looking, for someone I judge able to appreciate me. Then all they have to do is appreciate me, be the reflecting glass so I can admire myself through them. Part of me loving you so wholly is because I think you deserve it; because you’re able to love me. That makes you deserving of my love. I’m not sure how that works. I’m probably under some pretty immature delusions. I think is hearkens back to the “character flaws” I mentioned earlier.

I feel awkward always. In my body, in my speech, in my writing. It’s hardly ever easy unless I’m surrounded by complete strangers, where my relationship to them doesn’t matter. Where their judgments of me are irrelevant.

My desperate need for approval might be all that keeps me relatively sane. I do care what people think. I don’t want to push them away, as flawed and unforgivable as I think some of them might be. They have no right to hate me. The people who need the spotlight on them the most will always be the ones who like themselves the least. If someone else does the job of liking me, they think, then I’m off the hook.

Most of all, I wonder what “average” people think about. I know I’m not average. I know. Not within the range of acceptable deviance. I can’t fathom a “regular” relationship between two people who work nine to five, live in a condo or apartment in the suburbs, watch television for a hobby, and drive trucks to meet up with friends at their local chain-store watering hole. I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with living like that, but I just don’t know what these people think about when they’re alone in the tub, or smoking on the balcony, or falling asleep at night. What matters to them? What is their goal, and do they know why that is their goal? Are we the same, only I’m vocal and they’re silent and I take that omission as indication of absence of thought, of worry, of questioning?

I know I have an ego problem. I think highly of myself. I hate myself.

I fear others. I fear myself more; I’m not able at this point to trust my thoughts unconditionally.

I want joy. I want to learn. I want to stay smart, feel smart. I want to be recognized for doing good, for doing well. I want to be proud of myself. I want comfort, and security. I want discovery. But above all this, I want a partner, a teammate – a peripheral expansion to slot into my port and extend my capabilities. And I’m scared that even if I’ve found the right add-on who wants to merge with me too, that my inherent flaws or resource needs or operating system will scare him away. I’m too demanding, and too intense, and perhaps I’m also condemned to be alone — totally alone — with what’s in my head and my heart.

Bastard did worse! He got me flowers!!!

[sigh] after me getting so mad it him.. he had already been to the skidsgate mall and ordered a beautiful bouquet of pink lillies and roses to be sent to my hotel room for the weekend. They were wonderful. They're just on the ripe end now... and smell so sweet. I'm such a bad girlfriend for getting on his case... but how was I supposed to know he was different from all the rest!?

Fucker flails for flowers

All I want is a nice bouquet, right? Like not even red roses....daisies I prefer. Sunflower-bright goofy flowers. Orchids. Anything pretty and exotic, and preferably not too smelly, right?

It's been four months and he hasn't given me flowers. What the hell do I have to do to deserve them eh?

When I try to bring the matter up, even in a playful way, all I get is the same crapola that a real shitty ex (one who left me stranded on a mountaintop -- there's a clue for me right there I guess for next time) who would fire back: "Well... I'm NOT going to get you flowers NOW! Because now I definitely DON'T feel like!!!"

I hate men. Are they cheap? Are they really that stupid that they don't 'get it' that sometimes a girl just wants flowers? I mean really.... I must tbe the ugliest girl in the world to NEVER get flowers from anyone. Grrrrrr.