wellownedbkup: (existential)
it's funny, all the things you start remembering as you get older. stuff i know i didn't remember before. like how i used to wear cross colours and bonjour and chic jeans. or how i've always had a thing for blonds or black dudes that were friends with me.

there's things like how me and lenore were the bestest of best friends in elementary school and she was an idiot wearing a tank top on a field trip downtown in late fall, so i lent her my sweater and i was standing around in a silk shirt, but it was still awesome. or how the line between hero worship and love is really non-existent in my head, especially after that one student teacher.

there's how hallways stretched long and frightening without a book to read while walking against a crowd of people. or how my mom's current room was the scariest in my house because it was the only one without a light fixture in it. and how, when we shared the room, my brother always took the top bunk. there's how i've always been on the bottom bunk and how, when i was sick, my brother would turn on the tape player to our favorite tape, tuck me in and give me peace and quiet while everyone else ate dinner. how sometimes i think we were closer friends than me and my sister because at least he looked out for me when we were at brandeis together.

but i guess it's less of that and how just yesterday i realized that i've always skated that line. i wore buttondowns over t-shirts and a guy reached up between the two and was trying to feel me up and i didn't even realize it until he'd touched my boob. and it'd been weeks of him laying on me, doing that. he got to second base before ever touching first and i feel... somewhat jilted.

and there's other things too--how i kinda miss high school now like a tangible thing, where i would change what i did for what i know now. because, yes, i would've taken jones' molesting further and my girls would've had to put up with PDAs because i would've let him do almost anything. shameless, yes, but true. i still have a curiosity about a certain piercing. (it didn't even take me getting drunk to tell him that i wish we'd met in some other time, where i wasn't who i was. it took a long ride to cincinnati, i think, and my feet against the car window and nostalgia. and i told him "i wish we'd met in some other time. i think we would've been fantastic." and how he texted back that he was sorry. and how it was sad but made sense, how i still think it passes through us from time to time and how i want to heal that boy's wounds, but know i'm not for him. how he promised me that he'd leave me what he made when he went to the army, and the drunken phone call at 1 in the morning where he promised me he'd be back. and how i haven't seen him since black friday.) or maybe i would've stopped repressing so hard and maybe have told one or two girls that maybe i wasn't so loving of them platonically. (granted, i'm still working that out right now, trying to decide if this is me being lonely, impressionable, or if it really has been there all along. and then whether i should act on it at all, considering the objects of my affection are all straight.)

or i wish i could go back to middle school and actually understand what max was saying to me, instead of just hearing the words and being glad he was talking to me still. savoring sharing eighth grade graduation with the two boys i'd adored as opposed to the girls i called my friends. but, more importantly, going back and actually working out my life's course properly.

these memories are all the paths i've taken, the ones that lead me to today and make me who i am. they're all the paths i wish i could've changed, the ones i wish i'd stayed on longer. if i could turn time backwards, i would go back and fix it. maybe i would've never become solidly insane but loved without high school. smart and honest without the brilliant minds i met in middle school. blunt and careful without the stability of family and faith in elementary school.

i just wish that now didn't seem so pale and lackluster in comparison.
wellownedbkup: (GTFO)
i'm getting really tired of being the one he blames. i know it's just him projecting because he's tired. news flash: you're not the only one.

so i spent a few hours out of the house today. whoopee. i went to walmart and burlington and got a blizzard with my sister. which we haven't done in ages (similar things, not the exact things, but close enough). no niece, no riding the bus. no rush. it wasn't like i was doing anything super important. but consider that this is the first time i've been out of the house in two weeks.

now, i realize he's tired. he's worked a whole week, he's got all his end-of-year stress that he hates, plus mom. i get that.

but cussing at me just cause i woke him to help mom, because i'm being helpful and johnny-on-the-spot for mom, because i've been helping mom for two weeks, non-stop, without making a face, while i was ON MY PERIOD... i don't deserve that.

i don't deserve being told that i have an attitude because i'm awake and i'm helping and i expect the same out of him.
wellownedbkup: (Default)
so maybe it's not awkward anymore, so much as it's... distant.

so maybe i kept his cell number in my phone and i text him. what better way to talk after the breakup-that-wasn't than use the same form of communication?

so i text him and tell him i miss him and that it's been ages since we talked. and that i worry for him. (if only cause i think he deleted his bebo profile)

and he texts back. says he's fine and working loads, hopes i'm ok and misses me too.

not awkward. just... distant. no longer easy.
wellownedbkup: (Default)
ok, so i overslept this morning. grr. not a good start to my tuesday, i can assure you. especially as i had to be at work within half an hour of my waking up. not cool. though, of course, since i'm running late the only shoes i can find are some ill-fitting wedges that are not suitable for lab work. 4" =/= proper geek wear.

it's ok, though. i made it. for what it's worth. i get to work and, once again, MY DESK IS CRAWLING WITH ANTS, OMG. i back away slowly and make my boss kill them. my other!boss comes and taps out the keyboard WHERE THE ANTS ARE LIVING WTF and goes on a cleaning/killing spree. my nerves are DEAD now.

so i look at my hand and suddenly see like... hives or some shit. EEP! and in the smartest move of the day? i scratch and pop every little lump i find on my pinky finger. which is when i realize that it's not really hives, but contact dermatitis, and that i probably just opened myself up for an infected pinky finger. urr... yeah. real smart, honey.

so, it's been an hour and a half since i got to work, my nerves are absolutely shot, and i've got my hoodie on because it's the only comfort i'm getting this morning. i can't get warm, even though the air conditioner's not on and it's hot outside. my computer mouse DIED, and my touchpad's twitchy when i'm plugged up, so i'm having to fend for myself with shortcut keys and my alt + tab buttons. THERE ARE STILL ANTS ON MY FUCKING DESK because they're crawling up the motherfucking computer cables. my finger has fucking LEPROSY. and i may be on the verge of a nervous collapse. *dies*
wellownedbkup: (noir)
god save me from myself and well-meaning english boys.


ok, so i've picked up with this really decent guy i've talked to for... uh... a time? but only met in person once. (oh jeez, i'm in a fucking internet relationship.) and only briefly at that, in that i rode in the same car as him, but we didn't really, ya know, chat.

at any rate. his cousin's a rat bastard that i happened to like for a while. miami. yeah. him. and he's friends with my juanboy, who keeps fucking avoiding me online. *keyboard smash of disapproval*

so. i've kinda picked up with him. and he's really nice. like my age or thereabouts. he's pretty skilled (a carpenter, which takes actual talent, buddy). and we talk. small talk, but we talk. for long periods of time which kills me. but i worry. because he's on the rebound. he's like fresh out of a long-term relationship and I DON'T WANNA BE THAT GIRL. but, like, he's asking me if i'm seeing anyone. and if i like where i live. and like.. i dunno. dude. this is .... and i say bye like i do to *everyone* (night, darling. because pet names get me out of using real names get me some pseudo affection get me talking to everyone on the same fucking level no matter the sex). and he says "night. take care. xx."

xx. like, kisses. like... seriously? and basing that on my england experience period, that's like... wayyyy left field. like juanboy affectionate (a hug at two weeks. taking care of me for a weekend. "love ya, sis" which means everything and nothing). so is that like his goodbye to girls, period? or is that his... goodbye? or...


i could tear my hair out right now. because i haven't done anything but be myself. and this is still confusing the hell outta me. because... ok. so asking me about my home life and my dating life and telling me your personal life and talking to me for two hours? shouldn't that mean something? or am i reading too much into this again?

so here's my problem )

nothing i know can prepare me for knowing if this is a first move from the new boy. if september was a move from my juanboy. i've been told i'm too fat to be loved like... oh. i just dunno. i may possibly be what the new boy wants. i may possibly be dating my juanboy. but i'm so ill-prepared for the dating scene...



i don't know what i'm gonna do. whether i'll reciprocate with the new boy. whether that would be unfaithful to my juanboy. or if i'm just taking it all way too seriously. maybe the boys are just being friendly. maybe i'm just their opening to what hot americans they can catch (maybe not the new boy so much, as he's been to NY once, and florida 5 times... thank god for a traveling type...), or i'm the girl they can hang with and have no worries. a way to rebel against their parents (because america's a den of iniquity and sin and sodom and gomorrah just moved here instead of getting destroyed) by hanging with an american girl.....

i don't know what i'm gonna do. i fail utterly at the game. at recognizing the difference between moves and friendly overtures. because if i really am picking up with the new boy, i'm gonna become THAT GIRL, that rebound girl, that desperate loser who the guy settles for.


jesus fuck, it's too early in the morning to be having a crisis of relationships.
wellownedbkup: (thefragile love)
remind me that my level of friendliness??? comes off as flirting half the time with the guys i know.




i mean, seriously. why is it that i talk nicely to you, a guy who's on the rebound, and suddenly you're all like... cozying up and stuff?!?!? i've only met you once, darling. there's no way you should be that interested in what i've got to say. i did *not* just have a 2 hour conversation with you. oh no. i just... uh..

dammit. i treat all guys that way!



i mean, it's not like you asked me if i was in a relationship. or, you know, looking for someone.


jesus i'm stupid.
wellownedbkup: (wtf)
http://community.livejournal.com/veronicamarsfic/1352553.html

go ahead and click. yeesh. cause it's not good. it looks like if this bill or whatever passes, then livejournal and any webhost will have 50 years of copyright on anything we post. including fanfic and original stories and personal entries and what have you.

this is bad.
wellownedbkup: (wtf)
if i wanted to be fucked this morning, i would've called any of the guys i know that're willing. i didn't need this, though.



it's not that i don't love my sister. i do. occasionally.

no. it's not that at all.

it's that SHE PISSES ME OFF SO MUCH SOMETIMES I COULD KEEL HER. i know. i know. not productive. at all.

but she's pissed me off for real this morning.


she started a new job today. clerical. whatever. and she has to get there by 8:15 (they tell her). so she wakes me up at 7:45, claims she's driving cause she knows where the building is, and that's that. i grumble cause i'm not supposed to be up yet, dammit, and i'm cold and she needed to hurry the fuck up.

so i sit, in my jammies, in the cold car, for almost 20 minutes while she's inside wasting time. i swear to god... wasting time. we don't know how traffic is, we don't know if she really knows where the building is, and I KNOW SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AT LEAST 5 MINUTES EARLY CAUSE IT'S HER FIRST DAY.

so. we leave the house late (no one knows what she was doing, but she walked around the house for 20 minutes)... then we drive around downtown because SHE FORGOT WHERE THE FUCKING BUILDING WAS. then, when i see the building (we've been circling it for half an hour), i tell her to get out. cause there's the fucking building. gah. so she parks at a tarc stop when the bus is right behind her and gets out in the middle of traffic.

WHAT THE HELL??? she's already late. on her first day. and she wants to get killed. and she's walking so slowly... like she can't move.

my sister. the fucking MORON. if i hadn't had to leave for work... i would have keeled her.
wellownedbkup: (masochist)
no, i'm not still in like/love/whatever with jones. cause.... nope. not.

i'm not cause, ya know, if i was, i wouldn't have agreed to go to dinner with him and his fiancee. and i wouldn't have slept upstairs where i was frozen in ten minutes.

nope. not.

though, i do wonder. WHAT IN THE HELL POSESSED ME TO CALL HIM BACK AND SAY YES I'LL GO OUT WITH YOU TWO?!?!!?

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November 2016

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