Facebook, caulk and other shit that is keeping me awake

I went cold turkey off of FB back in May and just recently tuned back in so I could look up a phone number of a local friend I wanted to connect with. I assumed I would feel a sense of community being "back on" now but I don't, in fact: I feel like shit about it. I hate it. I really hate how lonely and sad FB makes me feel. I read old conversations with ex lovers, friends and family and it's like bitter fruit with no respite of sweetness. The time I spent away wasn't anything glamorous or enlightening; it just felt clean and my conversations were forth rite and in person. I slept soundly knowing there were no messages to be checked, no one waiting to talk to me. I did check the profile of the boy I jilted though. He was too sweet for me, I would have taken him through the ringer and hell and would have destroyed his soul as well as his faith in women and love. He has no idea the favor I did for him by turning away from his affections. There is one man (as far as all the men i have been with) on the planet who can even begin to understand the labyrinth of nagging, demands, emotions and fighting that I will put the lesser sex through in order to make my point/get my way/make him understand. Lord knows that even then, he is still too weak to truly love me and let me just fucking love him back. Anyway.

I went to Lowes today to find some sulfuric acid for my drain fly problem and it only took about five minutes before I was looking at paint samples and deciding I would rip out and re-caulk the bathtub, paint the water closet, clean the vent and install a chandelier in the bathroom. It's not like I have anything else to do. I re-potted alllll of my house plants this afternoon and it was truly gratifying and relaxing. My living room looks more and more like a scene out of Cinema Verite' sans macramé. I walk in my front door in complete awe that yes, I live here and yes, I own this place. It is both delicious and terrifying at the same time. I never thought I would care about the most taxing of home repair projects, but I do. The only truly irritating thing are the pigeons. They scratch on the roof all damn night and it sounds like someone is walking around and scratching right above my bed. Come 5am you can here their "coo cooo coo" and I want to shoot them with a gun with every fiber of my being. I'm exhausted; the pigeons don't care. I wish it were morning, for an unemployed person who has been emotionally black listed from her chosen profession in the city of Salt Lake I sure am excited for the days offerings. I have been writing more, reading a looot more, and focusing on using my unemployment to pay off my credit cards in full before school starts in August. There is a light and it never goes out. 

Lets get out of here

I paid my mortgage this morning and felt all giddy and homeowner-y and happy and then I came home to drain flies in my bathtub. It is a bitch to get rid of drain flies and so far nothing has worked. This is the part where it sucks being the landlord. When the toilet broke (twice!) I had to only pay a small fraction of what it would have cost to get a plumber on a Sunday because of my home warranty. Will I have this to fall back on forever? No. Not working has let a restlessness settle on my heart. I want to get up and get in my car and drive to California, or Mexico or Canada. I want to do something and not nothing. I want to pull an Christopher McCandless and get the fuck away. I feel sad and akward that I cannot let boys get close to me romantically. My skin crawls at the thought of anyone touching me and yet I miss it. 

It was so akward

It was uncomfortably akward and the silence was obnoxious. I'm not attracted to him and I wasn't feeling particularly conversational today. I know he was wanting to be agreeable and do what I want but that is not (in actuality) what I want/need. It was fucking akward and unnerving when he kissed me because I decided I didn't want him to. I should have just said right then and there that I was not emotionally there...I don't think I'll be emotionally ready ever. My pangs are for someone entirely different. I want to be free and easy and have a nice time but we just didn't click. He is also deathly allergic to cats and couldn't stop talking about his exes and their kids/cats/hang ups.  I'm not into it, not into him. I can hold off on buying new underwear now I guess. 

Pearls.gold's wishlist

I feel absolutely sick over these earrings. They are the epitome of me and perfectly suit me as a woman (and would look divine hanging from my lobes). I got all excited and then actually spit up a little when I saw the $$$. 

How could I live with myself for spending four months of mortgage payments on a pair of earrings...and yet.

 

I would, if I could. 

If anyone gets any ideas, they are for sale on Gilt.com

Just sayin. 

Oh boy

I can't stop smiling. The blush on my cheeks is rosy and flattering. I feel silly and girly and giddy. Kisses fresh on my lips; he dropped off my library books. I had a nice time. My gender role wasn't an issue and I could buy a drink or two. I loved that we went to Mandate and I loved our eye glasses rubbing together. He reminds me of a Crumb character. I want to watch Twilight Zone with him and giggle. I like that he is nice, he let me talk. I was so nervous and had just plucked a long grey hair out of my widows peak; I felt slightly vulnerable. I am proud of myself, honestly. I wasn't afraid and it was actually nice and...different. I bought two new prints at the art show we went to. 

Add this to the list

June 20, 2013

Ammendments:

I. Cell phone

  a. Working order

  

II. First dates

   a. First encounters are to be conducted locally so that I may leave anytime I want. 

   b. If you can't come and pick me up or at least escort me to the destination then forget it. 

III. Car

   a. The importance of a vehicle or means of transportation is based solely on my personal experiences of having to constantly drive my boyfriend everywhere. I haven't dated a guy with his own car since I was 16; I'm tired of being the chauffeur. 

These ammendments and addendums are true in nature and of mild to moderate importance. 

122 weeks ago

I had a blast last night. Really, I did. I am staying up late because I can and that is something the unemployed are privy to. I can't wait for school to start but I know I'll be kicking myself later on and wishing I had more free time. The difference between working full time and going to school full time is with the latter you are serving someone else and the other allows you to serve yourself. I need to relate to people on a more personal level and not have it be in a stressful work environment. I wish them well, I really do. 

I painted my nails this spoiled rich bitch green 

That is an akward looking hand. The polish is #571 by Revlon. 

Increasingly aware

I am easy to talk to sometimes. I can be so free and fun and non judgemental and I surprise myself sometimes by it. There are moments when I am listening to someone talk and I want to scream. I want to scratch and slap and spit in their face if only to get them to understand. This feeling has felt less dominating since I haven't been working and my coworkers were a great source of contempt. I wake up feeling guilty sometimes, wondering if I had just tried a little harder to make them understand...no...there was no way I could have a different outcome than the one that is my present. My guilt is residual left over from the old nag in me who wants to hold myself to the same standards as everyone else. I should be working, making enough money to pay for my home and groceries and baby kitty and a little fun and savings. I should be open to work whatever kind of job I am skilled in and not worry about what people will think of me. I judge people. I judge the people at fast food places and I really should be proud of them for working and doing something and serving me a spicy chicken sandwich at 2am if I feel like it. I judge the person who stands on the sidewalk in a furry pink gorilla costume, earbuds playing their choice tunes for dancing and waving a sign. I think "I feel bad for them" and when I see a homeless person who is in the same corner everyday waving their sign I feel disgust and I think "why doesn't he get a furry pink gorilla job?" Well, he probably feels bad for that person too. We give up some inkling of dignity when we work for someone other than ourselves. I was going to be an escort many, MANY moons ago. I had pictures taken and appropriate inappropriate clothing picked out. I knew the escort chant of "I can not condone or allow you to masturbate in front of me." I was told undercover cops will sometimes "simulate" masturbation in order to see if you recite those lines so they don't have to arrest you. Sometimes they will try to kiss you and touch you and if you allow so much as an ass grab that you can be arrested by them. I couldn't do it. I got a call saying that someone had requested me and another girl was going to come with me so I could be shadowed and watched and corrected in front of this man who wanted to pay for my time. I knew then I had to refuse; back out graciously. I thanked the Madame for the opportunity (reading that made me gag, but I did). I knew I would judge me; I would wonder where I had stuffed my dignity in order to be someone's fantasy for an hour or two. The money aside, I now know the price one pays when you cater to another's sexual perversions, fantasies. Maybe I feel like I have experienced so much more than other people so I feel confident in being a bitch and a know-it-all. Instead if it making me more of a vessel for others to pour their feelings and thoughts into I am simply a bowl of cement. I have lived about six whole lives and I am only twenty eight. I wish I could just listen. Even my lawyer told me to shut up. I just...can't. I want to work but I don't mix well with people who don't want to grow, change. I want to be helpful but I refuse my help to people who I judge to not "deserve" it. I will donate every piece of clothing and canned food in my house for charity but it's hard for me to give a person on the street spare change. I get angry at Bre for giving people cigarettes when I don't smoke and I wish she wouldn't either. I have a hard time with myself; extremely conflicted. I have hurt people and said horrible things to them because I knew what would hurt them and I went for the jugular. I wish I manifested gentleness rather than sour, mean spirited body language. I am abrupt and crass and loud and overwhelming. I know this, better than anyone I know this. I have to live with my bitter heart and sore tongue. One day, there will be no one left for me to tell anything to. I will have to sit and listen a wait for a voice that will never come because I wouldn't listen and the voice stopped trying to tell me whatever message it wanted to convey. 

Gross

I am at Starbucks and this pervert is staring at my breasts like a starved wolf. He is wearing the same shirt I bought for another perverted, starved wolf ages ago. The reddish one with the black thin horizontal stripes. 

Well done Rebecky

All the boys I like are bad news. It isn't on purpose, honest. I seem to attract them and they attract me and that is that. I am continually telling myself to keep a close watch on this heart of mine ;) and yet I find it oh so easy to give it away to the baddest, most dangerous son of a bitch around. Alike seeks alike? I'm just as no good as they are. 

All the time in the world

My nails are long now. I can drag them along things and they feel sharp. I can paint them so many colors and not care now. I am reading a book about the history of beekeeping. I applied for food stamps but I probably won't get them because my IRA has a gazillion dollars in it. I have had a steady paycheck since I was 15 and the total amount of time I went without a job is a grand total of 3 months. That's it. I've spent almost half my life paying taxes and now that I am asking for assistance I can't recieve it because I did what the government told me to do: save for retirement because social security probably won't exist by the time I'm 65. The irony of it all. I want a haircut. Bre says that when you have something major happen to you in life you should go get a haircut. If I got one now it would only serve to conceal my identity from my former employers. She wants my bangs back but I feel they make me look childish. 

This is what my hair looked like this morning after camping and not showering for a few days. It was a grease ball in the back and a desert up front. 

Camping was a beautiful, wild, amazing bonding experience made possible by six (seven including myself) equally wild and amazing girls. We swam in the Portneuf, Lava Hot Springs Inn hot pools, and Formation Springs. We drank Long Islands and "smoothie" shots bought by over zealous locals. Rachel had a dance off with a few underage (they looked 17) boys and danced her ass off. We flirted and laughed and walked back to camp drunk as shit. Mandy almost cut her finger off with a hatchet chopping kindling at 2am. I had to force first aid with a bottle of vodka, gauze and paper towels. We were protected by two pitbulls and a sweet chihuahua. Four of us were menstruating and afraid bears would attack at the first whiff of blood. We had campstove tacos, Dutch oven French toast and picnic caprese sandwiches. We climbed into a cave and explored and got spooked. It was fantastic; I'm lucky to know these girls and get to do things like this. 

Campsite one

Only the necessities of course.

The cave

Upper bench of the cave

Formation Springs, we all jumped into the clear, blue water. It is absolutely freeeeezing and there is no way to prepare yourself for it. You have to just let go and jump and feel your heart stop momentarily. The minute you emerge it's like magic and you are alive and a woman and free and you are in this beautiful place with wonderful people and nothing could truly ever hurt you because you were brave enough to stand that ice cold water. 

I need some time. I need to apply myself to school and friends. When he texts me again I won't say no. I will say yes and drink his wine and I won't care that he lives in godawful West Valley. He has a job and hobbies and I need to allow myself to date and not turn my cheek at every boy who tries to speak to me. I can't hold them all responsible for my busted heart and bruised ego. I don't have to bring them home if I don't want to; I always act like its for forever and I know that isn't my reality. Other girls get a "forever" and I get a "for right now." I have to remember that it isn't about being right, it's about being kind. Giving in isnt weakness, it is strength in acknowledging someone else's feelings; which is disgustingly difficult for me to do apparently. I've been selfish for so long I just assume I will and should always have the first kiss and the last dance. 

Hot piss

The ringing in my ears is deafening. It's absolutely awful and it makes me wonder if I have tinnitus. I feel like that man we saw on the escalator at White Marsh mall all those years ago when I thought you loved me. He was in his wheelchair going down an escalator backwards. I feel that way now; feel like I am waiting to just tip over and crack my skull open while the mall watches me bleed to death. There is no relief from uncertainty. No salve that could soothe how chapped in the heart I feel right now. It's hardly back to square one for me. I think I managed to throw my body into an alternate universe; one I never cared to visit and now just made me an honorary citizen. How will the bills get paid? How will I survive? I can't technically work and I am in a weird limbo where the bar is set a 1/4" from the floor. I have a lot of correspondence to catch up on, a lot of soul searching to do. I say that like Soul-Searching= spending more time at the City Library, reading, cutting out magazine clippings, staring off into space, writing in my diary, drinking root beer and vodka, wondering where I will end up, doubting myself. So Soul-Searching isn't going the best I guess.  Calgon take me away. 

Bad dreams

I wake up from a nap and I feel terrible. I dreamt of an old lover and it's just awful. Oma's house is about six stories with a weird pool out back that feels haunted. He is there, upstairs, but with his girlfriend. There are lots of other people there but they are getting ready to leave. She is looking at him and he has his arm around her waist. I am in the basement in a small back bedroom that is supposedly very deep underground but I have windows that allow for an eerie, dusty kind of late afternoon sunlight. I know they are up there together, I know he loves her and doesn't remember who I am. In my dream I wake up and it is late. I hear them fighting and I hear her crying and telling him she is leaving him. I open my door and creep so quietly up the stairs. I barely crest the upper level when she sees me, looks me straight in the eye and says "I know what he is, what he does and so do you. Why are you still here?" He is standing there with a shirt on but no pants. His penis is exposed and normal-flaccid looking. He looks angry at me for being there. She turns around and walks out the front door, setting off an alarm. He stands there still staring at me; furious isn't the word. 

I wake up and it's obscenely hot in my room. My feverish dreams will only get worse as the temperatures rise. 

Be Proud

It has been strange not working. I wake up at 7:00am still and lay awake wondering what I will do today. Being on vacation is one thing, being suspended from work is an entirely different feeling. Keeping busy hasn't been hard; I am catching up on some housecleaning that has gone undone for a few months (think behind the fridge, under the stove, cleaning out cabinets, organizing my desk etc.) My dresser will always be haphazard, I like my jewelery thrown around, it makes me think I have more than I really do.

where did I put my red, white and blue sequined headband?

Another silver lining to this ridiculous mess is the amount of time I can dedicate to finding scholarships and people/businesses that will pay for me to go to college. This takes up approximately four hours each day spent searching, writing essays, filling out applications, submitting and updating.

This is me adjusting my glasses in order to better read the fine print

It is disheartening to see how many scholarships there aren't for women like me. It sucks to be made to feel "Oh, I came from a two parent home, wasn't a battered housewife or a single teen mom and am not a minority and so I don't qualify for MOST of the scholarships offered."

 One day, when I am comfortable enough to, I will have a scholarship program that is open to ALL women who dropped out of high school and got their GED immediately. Candidates will be more readily considered if they entered the workforce at a young age and then purchased a home before the age of thirty without a spouse or other means of financial support. My essay questions will include: 

"Describe in no more than 250 words a situation in your life

where you felt you had to make a difficult choice." and "What is your most favorite personal characteristic and how has it served you and your education."

 

 

This picture is of my Oma on what I believe is a 1940 Opel Kadett

 Anyway, It's PRIDE week here in Salt Lake City so Bre and I made badges as a show of support.

 

Maybe I'm amazed

Is it the shock of the century that people underestimate me? Or that they think I won't fight till the bitter end to protect myself and what I believe is right? There is a place in time for me, somewhere. I won't have to wonder or feel uncertainty; I'll have a few days or months or maybe years of just being happy and comfortable and definite. I feel like I get so excited for the unknown and then I get so nervous when it gets down to the nitty-gritty. 

My work situation is changing so incredibly fast and I got myself to this point and now I have to see it through. I never imagined I would get the opportunity to go back to school, especially not full-time, but I did and I am.  

Just like with everything else in my life, it's totally happenstance and out of nowhere. One thing is for damn sure though, I'll never change. I'll never stop being a whistle blower, I'll never put up with other people's bullshit, I'll never give in and I will take ALL the prisoners. Someday I will look back on all of this and laugh at how unbelievably fucking strong and smart I was and am and it will all be worth it. I just wish these people would go get a goddamn life.