predictions and journals

at the end of every relationship, it’s the same thing: the predictions. the ending of who is going to be doing what when how and whom and when this is all going to happen.
I predict that Paul will be dating again in a few months, and probably getting close to someone shortly after that. He cannot be alone, period.  He will not mourn the end of our relationship or mourn me, and hence why I’ve been doubly amused to find out that the vultures were already tap dancing around my grave thanks to Paul telling me.
Paul perdicts I’ll end up w/ either Ben or Danny. Ben because he’s new, european, tall etc ad nasuam and Danny because he’s history and apparently my eyes get big as saucers when I talk abotu either one of them.  I apparently can make no choices of my own .

mysterious twin

So I was thinking recently, thanks in part to a fantasy book I’ve been currently reading that is heavy towards politics about relationships and involvement.
Mainly the emotional involvement with friends and acquaintances. Where does one end and one begin?
Because lets face it, apparently when it comes to the ‘friend’ pool, i’ve got some sort of defect. I was thinking about how i collect people, like one would collect dolls or stamps. If one didn’t work out, oh well, there was always someone else would take their place. Perhaps I’m confusing friends with boyfriends?
No matter, the sentiment is the same. But i’m seriously beginning to believe that I do have some defect because it seems, if i ignore you, then i’m a terrible friend but if I spoil you, i’m buying your love.

cut-off point

I told someone 30 was my cut-off point. If I don’t accomplish a lot of what I want to do before I’m 30 — I’m gone. Now before you start going “Um, Lisa, that is SUCH a cry for help” and calling your local suicide hotline, don’t bother. 98% chance that I won’t off myself (I made a funny!). Anyone who has known me for years that these things pass with time and I’m never serious — however, I know that many of us feel, that from time to time, life isn’t worth living. And sometimes I’m happy that I made it through my first suicide attempt 10 years ago, and other times I wish I would have died. But that is neither here nor there. I’m just telling you how it is folks, that is why you are here.
I will make no illusions that I’m being serious. For a few days, i was dead serious. But, I have (and will always know) that this passes with time. Being bipolar manic/depressive isn’t cool kids. It sucks major ass. Lemme tell you.
But things are looking up. I’m removing myself from one situation and starting anew life. I’m really digging someone I’ve been digging for 6 months and he’s mein gott(g). I had to say it to taunt him.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, there is so much, that you as a general public are not aware of. So much lies behind me then what meets the eye. Some people are not comfortable with knowing THAT MUCH about me — others want to own my soul. I give what I can — when I can. I give to those I feel deserve it and when I feel they need to have it. It’s not a game — it’s my life.
i’ve always been strong — and I’ve always attempted to make some sort of peace within my life. I’ve always strived to be the VERY FUCKING BEST that I can be. And that threatens people — and it’s harmful to others. My megalomania can be daunting. Fuck, I just created a new IM name: LishaIsGod. heh. Cos, I am god. this is my fucking world and I’m letting you enjoy it. If you piss me off, nothing a little DENY won’t work magic on.

english motherfucker, do you speak it

the one common thread lately that has been asked of me is to look inward. the answer lies there they say. either that or find Jesus which someone anonymously posted, but Jesus, as we all know, doesn’t pay the bills, at least in this household.
i think to ask me to look inward seems awfully silly, for what is a journal if it is not inward reflection in and of itself? to question and to grow from your own strengths and weaknesses. to wonder how you can do more or better with your life and archive more. I didn’t want to be an extraordinary person, rather, i wanted to lead an extraordinary life. i wanted to say that i did things that not that many people have done and seen things not that many people.
so i don’t understand why someone would ask me that.
i have searched for answers all my life to questions i thought that pertained to me, and turns out seem to pretrain to mankind. as someone gently pointed out to me that you must some how sieve through the bad to get to the good and even then it’s almost blind faith on knowing whether that person is truly of some decent caliber.
I guess I can’t accept that, and I never could.
I remember once when I was very little, I must of been about 5 or 6, it was before my brother was born or around that time I’m sure, my mother and i folding clothes in the dining room. Now that sounds a bit absurd but you must realise the house we lived in was an old farm house that had been added on to several times and thusly, it ended up being a 14 room house. Because the basement was a Michigan basement (called as such as it was unfinished), only the washer resided down there while the dryer was upstairs in the kitchen. [That sounds almost British!] And of course it was quite easy to shift clothing from the dryer to the dining room table (w/ leaves sat 12, w/o leaves sat 8) and fold the clothing appropriately.
I remember feeling that i had this burning question in my heart to ask, something I was afraid to get an answer on. As we sat there folding towels and jeans, I remember asking my mother in my five year old voice about something she had said/done to me that i thought was extremely unfair. I was absolutely SURE it was unfair. My mothers answer did not please me and I wish I knew what the question to this day even was, but I remember feeling when I was done how life seemed to screwed in the head. There was something so intrinsically right in my head that to hear that it was wrong didn’t make sense. First beginnings of being stubborn? Perhaps, Or about being passionate? Who knows. I just remember feeling that life was going to be difficult enough without having to worry about all these little details. Hell, I remember the cold walk home when I was 8 clutching my math book to my chest having a panic attack because there was no effing way I was going to do long division or whatever the hell it was that third graders should be doing let along going to high school? I was convinced i would not have enough time to learn it all. do not ask me why i thought this, i still do not know to this day. Might explain some of my procrastination.
I do not have a single solitary answer as to why I kept an online journal, or why I’ve seemingly abandon it sometimes or why sometimes themes are repeated. I think perhaps I’ve always written in something, and I can remember instances of flashbacks when I was a child writing outside under the stars, over by the library against a tree by the river or at home upstairs on my desk. I do not have my original diaries from that time but I wish i did. They have been lost via many shuffles.
I had a great conversation with Graham the other night, which lasted for about 2.5 hours. One thing I have noticed in my later years is my aversion to use the phone. It’s not that I won’t talk to people, but I don’t get many personal phone calls (why should i when there is e-mail) and incidentally neither does Paul. So getting two personal calls in one day seemed thrilling albeit i was a bit spacey with graham, which I apologized profusely on. Anyways, Graham called to cheer both myself and himself up and I think partially it did the trick. One thing we did comment on is that neither of us have really an older parentally figure (if you will) to guide us on the path to life. With Graham it is mostly because of his work-aholicism and being a Brit in the US (though he has lost some of his accent except when he says schedule, so he must go back to the UK for that). For me I never grew up with a father figure, save for my crazy grandfather, and my mother was a workaholic. I still carry on intense guilt thinking that I must be some intense disappointment to my father for not being around (yes I know its not my fault that he didn’t show up for 20 years, but you tell my subconscious that) or that i feel this need that I have to take care of my mother because really, who else will? Apparently not the state if (#*&#)@(#* Social Security hasn’t kicked in, but that is not here or there all together.
Reading over some comments left on the site about yesterdays entry along with entries that I’ve written in the past, i wonder if the problem isn’t a breakdown in communication.
My friend Ben and I have it a lot, mostly it is because of the translation of slang. Ben lives in Belgium and we all know where i live! But it’s often funny if he says something and I’m like wtf do you mean and vice versa. it’s amusing because what i say sometimes doesn’t convey well to him and i need to explain what i mean.
But herein likes the point, is that sometimes i feel like I’m not speaking English/American even though it sounds like i am. I will say/write something and there will be 10 different interpretations as to what was actually said. This was also reflected back in the day with ‘work e-mail’ due to ‘my tone’ sounded too snotty. I have zero idea how telling a customer that he misconfigured a router was being snotty but hey, who am i to argue? Even with paul, i pick apart his words to make sure I get the meaning clear and he calls me mean (apparently joking). Like today when I picked him up at work and I told him about the possible early acceptance to a school, and therefore i was leaving in a month ish he went nuts. He looked at me accusingly stating that I ruined Christmas for him since I was leaving two weeks early, he must then get a drivers license earlier and buy a car earlier and he’d have no money to buy a plane ticket back to Miami for the holidays. I apparently had it all made in the shade because everything was being “taken care of.” Somehow this is my problem that he waited three years to get a drivers license/car, with his excuse of we couldn’t afford it — trust me we could. Plane tickets to Miami are 200 bucks max and maybe if he stopped spending 250 bucks at on cds this wouldn’t be an issue. But apparently my one sentence span out of control to produce this litany of complaint.
I just ate my Wendy’s sammich and read e-mail and watched movies for the rest of the evening and stayed as far away as possibly as I could.
I find that i spend a lot of time defending or clarifying myself because I did not quantify my statements in whatever needs clarifying or defending. Sometimes it’s a miss of a letter or a structure of a sentence and others it’s just plain gibberish. Sometimes the other person doesn’t want to see the black/white and understand it himself.
I think save for a few obvious mistakes, I’ve stood by what I’ve said and do not regret what I say. I’ve had to reassure that I am open to apologizing to others when needed and that I’m not so arrogant to think that I’m never wrong. I do not like to think that what I say is ‘mea culpa’ rather a listing of facts told in an amusing yet entertaining way. I do not seek for sympathy rather i seek for understanding and empathy (yes they are the same thing it just sounds good).
I also know I often repeat myself and that i often reiterte what I say — I do this to make sure we are clear that my meaning and your understanding is one and the same for a grave mistake that is made is poor writing skills for if the reader does not understand basics of what the writer is saying, the writer is at fault. If the reader cannot grasp basic understanding, then reader is a moronic twit who fails to understand basic sentence structure.
now why can’t i be this prolific with my NanoWriMo Novel (0 words and counting).

the sun also rises

I’ve never claimed to be the master of personal relationships and never claimed to understand it all. But I am irritated by human behavior and the more it goes on the worse it gets. I am becoming thoroughly convinced that I pissed off a lot of gods in previous lives to deserve this.
Why do people take sides when they only know of one side of the story? It seems that when I left UUNet, which was on amicable terms with both my managers and upper management, that was not in fact what the peons were saying. Rumours of my demise were running rampart even when my body wasn’t cold. Secondly, people who claimed were my ‘friends’ and even sent me emails with contact information to contact them privately stop responding to emails when I asked them how things were going. One of my coworkers spewed me a bunch of BS and wouldn’t answer any of my questions as to why he wouldn’t meet me when I got to the building on the day to pick up my stuff. None of it made sense.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. I left a job due to a lot of reasons, none of which no one has bothered to ask me about other than a minute group of people. Upper management even wanted me to stay giving me options to stay, which I refused. Even Paul was too wrapped up in his own life to be bothered to ask. Everything was okay as long as I was employed, but since I no longer am, then the lot be damned and I’m cast out of the stone.
I know that there seems to be types of people who don’t like me, and I’ve come to realise over the years that I’ll never please everyone nor will I ever be liked by everyone i meet. I’ve always been okay with that. Always. But apparently this can’t be so.
But it seems that the general consensus of why people don’t like me is that I’m apparently abrasive, rude, aggressive (not assertive, but aggressive) and confrontational. I’ve also heard vindictive and backstabbing, which is funny because no one can actually point out a vindictive or a particularly backstabbing event. Because I have asked you see, it’s just my behavior seems to reflect that. Apparently, I’m predictable.
So I am bewildered as to why people who know me so little and yet have chosen to take sides. I saw my friends list at drop down a few notches within the last few days but I expected that. The thing was I expected that people would own up to their own opinions, but apparently they cannot, that is too difficult and probably a too mature of a thing to do.
When Paul and I moved to NoVa, we took a core group of people we met and expanded it via website and mailing lists, to bring in like minded people like ourselves and get to know them. We have spent thousands of dollars in the last few years throwing parties and sponsoring events. For my 30th birthday alone, the bar tab ran to nearly 1k, which I paid for out of my own pocket. People felt fine to drink my alcohol and eat my food but yet in the three years we have been here, I can only count a few and i do mean a few, people who have reciprocated the behavior. It seems we are fine and dandy as long as the alcohol was flowing, but to be invited to their soirees and their get togethers? forget it. They couldn’t be bothered.
One thing i found interesting was that one of the people who knocked me off their livejournal friend list, couldn’t be bothered to answer me out right on why he choose to mock me in the past. Apparently a comment I had said was below par in irc one day and he mentioned it to another group of people on another irc chat room which ended up on a web page. Basically it was him pointing out how appallingly stupid I was. When I asked him about it, he never responded, but he felt that drinking my beer and eating my food at later social events was more than okay and not the least bit stupid at all.
Then we have the paul thing.
You see,Paul and I broke up. Seriously. We are currently living together until i find out which colleges will take me and if I have not heard back, I’m moving in with my brother back in Michigan. It is both cheaper for both of us to live like this, as you see, paul doesn’t have a license or a car and depends on me for rides and basically keeping the house together. Now as for finances go, my trust fund (which is over 1/4 million dollars (Canadian) you nosy bastards) is paying me a stipend every month EQUAL to my pay at UUNet. 2500 hard cold American dollars is transferred into my account on the 15th of every month. There is no need to even speculate that I’m freeloading off of paul, because I made damn sure before I did anything I would have the cash to pull it off. People are already speculating, people also seem to have forgotten that in the three years we have been together, I’ve also acted as a maid/cook/laundress, and chauffeur for his royal highness. Paul apparently thinks that because he washed dishes a few half dozen times in the last 3 years that absolves him of everything. What I have done is, apparently, worth nothing.
Now the reason why I’m bringing this up is apparently Paul has been telling his family ‘something’ (not only his family, but also his little chat buddies who do not know me) — what that something is I do not know but Paul reiterated to me some kind words his family (and friends) apparently said about me which was “Don’t let her walk all over you” apparently referring to the fact that I am going to take him for everything he has. If you have seen our apartment, you would notate that is not necessarily true. It’s looks like IKEA has thrown up in it, a college students wet dream. Paul is keeping most if not all of the furniture and I’m just taking what is mine. The electronics have already been decided on and that was decided on first thing (because fuck you all, that tivo is going with me). Paul also failed to mention about the stipend to them, failed to mention that we got money from the trust every quarter since my father died in 2000. Failed to mention how many times I’ve asked for money to bail us out of something because neither one of us expected this disaster to occur.
Of course he did. For you see, I’m the evil exgirlfriend who no longer wants to be with him, therefore I cannot act like a reasonable adult. I will be vindictive and hurt him. Take all of his money which apparently I’ve already done. I apparently did not have any money of my own, My crappy 50K a year job i held at UUNet paid me nothing you see, nothing at all. All the direct deposits were blank. So, I’m a freeloading gold digging whore. I mean, I am sleeping with half of NoVa (so the story goes) and god knows who else. Apparently I have no feelings and have little regard to anything i have done. I will continue on this destructive behavior until I do, as that is my MO.
I am curious as to wonder what his family would say if i told them how many times paul had raised his hand to me threatening to punch me in the mouth for “angering” him and that i provoked it all because i should have known better. Or was he “only kidding” as he would said later on and he would never really hurt me. Or that when my mom got sick, he told me outright that my place was with him and not with my mothers and she should be shoved into a nursing home and left to fend for herself. “She has family!”, he says, “You should not have to take care of her.”
I gave up caring long ago.
If you are not gonna like me, don’t like me for an actual reason. Don’t like me cos you honestly think I’m this that or then some. If you have a valid reason for dislike, I can say I can respect that. But if you are choosing to take sides in something that you do not know what is going on, you do not know both sides of the story, I never wanted your friendship to begin with. If you wish to know what is going on with my life, the adult thing would be to ask. Do not speculate what i may or may not be doing. Because seeing as I’m the only who DOES know, anything you hear and find out will eventually be wrong.
If you are going to be my friend, you know then REALLY be my friend. Send me e-cards on birthday and holidays. Remember that what my favorite colors are (red/purple). Because I can’t tell you how many people know what my favorite movie is (Gone with the Wind) or that I had started to collect Beatrix Potter books when I was kid and still have them. That I once wanted to go into Astronomy as a career or that I adore movies from the 30s and 40s. Or that the main reason I get obnoxious is to combat being almost painfully shy because as a child I found that I was not heard unless I was loud, living in a household where loud was the norm. Because to be honest I don’t think anyone knows, if that many at all. Or that if i ask questions about something, it’s not to be sarcastic but it’s because I really want to know the answer.
Because it’s all right there you know as I’m a fucking fount of information. All you had to do was ask, and you never did.