brought to you by fisher price.
No one is perhaps more surprised than myself to find out I have gotten approved for very my first apartment — ever. Perhaps the grin that cannot be wiped from my face or the fact that I am not backing down to neither Paul nor my brother also says it. But either way, the inevitable has happened and again no one is more surprised than yours truly.
My idea of my first apartment took hold when I was younger and wanted to go to college, graduate and then i would be young, single and living in the perfect loft ala NYC or Boston or London or Paris with the right hint of kitsch. I’d have the perfect job making 18 trillion dollars a year and I’d wear a size 8, not an 18. A string of beaus for the weekly outings and I’d make Carrie from “Sex and the City” green with jealousy.
You get the picture.
I did not think I would be 30, living in the burbs of DC, wrestling with a 20lb pug in the confines of my car while trying to take her to the vet. I did not think a lot of things would happen. I should be named “Murphy’s Law”. Nothing, ever, goes my way.
My very first apartment.
No roommates.
Mine.
If I want to dance naked singing ABBA songs (which girl doesn’t?) or lounging naked watching tv, I can. If i choose to not do laundry for days on end and I’m out of clean underwear, no one is to blame but me for going commando. If I go on a date, there is no worry about someone being home, no person to kick out and no hassle of dealing with nosey questions. I can kiss said suitor at the door and tell him to buzz off if I choose. If i want to listen to bad 80s gangsta rap while cleaning my toilet I CAN. IF I WANT TO OPERATE A 24 HOUR CAM SHOWING NOTHING BUT HOT STEAMY SEX I CAN!
No more quiet phone calls, or dealing with other people’s messes or having to worry about “their” schedule and “their” time. No one is responsible for anything but me oh mine.
Electric, phone, DSL (which will be hooked up 1/13/02) have already been ordered. Cable tv will be determined by budget and as I have no tivo since it’s pieced out right now and I’ll probably get one when I move (you know, so i can record those oh so special moments).
I have no furniture, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. Things will work out. I just need to figure out how to drug 3 pugs for 10 hr drive.
x0x0x
PS: I’ll be sending out new address updates with new phone and home address. Everything right now is going to my brothers and I’m going to pick it up then.
Lisa
Author: pookiebear
please forgive me
Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do.
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Everytime I look at you
I SHOULD be working on a paper that is due today, i NEED to finish packing and instead i keep thinking about things that i shouldn’t be thinking about and daydreaming. But hey, i actually got holiday cards out BEFORE THE HOLIDAY so i must be doing something right.
Two main themes keep running through my head and that is: the holidays and love. they seem to be pretty intertwined these days and it doesn’t help that i hole myself up in my bedroom watching chick-flicks when I need a picker upper (exactly what a i need a pick me up from is anyones guess). I could watch Bridget Jones’ Diary 1500 times and I’ll still get mushy knees thinking about the look Colin Firth gives her at the end of the movie.
As we all know, and if you don’t you will now, i hate the holidays, sometimes with the passion that makes others nervous. Without fail something always happens around Christmas time that makes me want to go chop off the heads of the carolers as they come singing about god, Jesus and love. Christmas when I was a child used to be great. I come from a large family (my mother is the eldest of 7, and I’m the middle grandchild of nine) and including extended relatives, we had a good old fashioned German Christmas everywhere.
[The images are not scanned in well, I’ll fix that later]
Christmas 1975
Christmas 1979
14′ high ceilings with 12′ high trees, that were decorated with ornaments my mom had collected over the years. Me and the infallible teddy bear. That one in the picture died shortly after that was taken when I got sick on him. A new one was dispatched and replaced and he still sits quitely by my bed and I still often sleep with him. But I am digressing.
Christmas and love. Love and Christmas.
Christmas 1992: After dating for nearly a year, I find out that Alan has been dating another woman and breaks up with me after Christmas dinner at his brothers house. I would have died for this man. I haven’t been able to say that about anyone since.
Christmas 1994: Shortly before exams, I slip on ice outside my parents house, I suffer double fracture and a dislocated ankle:
outside angle
inside angle
Christmas 1996:My grandfather dies on 12/23/96. I spent Christmas day driving to his funeral and being harangued by my cousins.
Christmas 1999: Spent solitary.
Christmas 2000: Spent in Miami. There is something not right about 80 degree weather on Christmas day.
Christmas 2002: ?
Love and Christmas. Christmas and Love.
This year I decided I wasn’t going to be the grump I usually am come October and thought I’d get into the holiday spirit. I’m TRYING to get into the holiday spirit and it’s getting a bit distracting because it’s not quite going that way. Here we are 14 days before the holiday and nothing is what it’s supposed to be at this time. I’ve told Paul over and over that my gift to him would be a ticket back to Miami for the holidays and i’ve been waiting for him to get on the phone to find out when to schedule this little trip and he has yet to do it. I know that it will end up with him screaming at me about how it didn’t work out and etc etc etc. But I don’t want to talk about that either.
So every year I keep revisiting the old journals and looking at what I’ve written and one thing I can say about myself is that I am consistent in my opinions on a lot of things, but the one thing that really bothers me above anything else is I keep apologizing for who I am. It’s thinly veiled some days and others it’s in your face, but no matter what, I’m always questioning who and what I am as if this would somehow make things better.
I’m sorry I’m loud. I’m sorry I’m obnoxious. I’m sorry I’m smarter than you, wittier than you and TALLER than you (unless you are taller than me). I’m sorry my life is in a constant flux. I’m sorry I’m not blonde, blue eyed or a size 4. I’m sorry that I snort when I laugh, that I am not afraid to eat in front of people, that i twirl my hair, make faces constantly or collect toys. I’m sorry I like sex, I’m not afraid to discuss it and that I’m not afraid to try with relationships even if i keep failing over and over. I’m sorry I’m pushy, demonstrative and aggressive. I’m sorry that I flip switches and push buttons on and off like a light and that I constantly ask why. I’m sorry I have this journal and that if you get involved with my that your life would be published online. I’m sorry for the exhibition streak and the wanderlust streak and the NEED TO ACHIEVE streak. I’m sorry I’m obsessive and compulsive and that I’m passionate. I’m sorry I don’t want to lay down and bare your babies right this minute and be your little haus frau. I’m sorry that the ideas that sounded good 5 years ago, 2 years ago, 1 year ago cause shudders down my spine.
Yes yes, men are shit, women are stupid whores and the world goes on. I’m sorry I don’t want to buy into that self-effacing bullshit and use walls to protect myself. I just keep trucking on, because you know, life is far too short to wear beige and play the games of walls and the whole “i don’t want to get hurt” bull. You never know till you try, and trust me, I keep trying and I suspect one of these days I might get it right.
I’m sorry for everything and anything.
When I was on the drugs, I was happy not to think these thoughts. I was happy that life was going in the direction it was going in and I was content on feeling nothing. Now I’m off the drugs and I feel everything. I cry during movies and when things happen. I daydream so much that i am beginning to hate taking showers or baths because I’m in there for hours thinking about everything and anything.
I just never saw the point of wasting your life on nothing when there is something. I’m tired of being the half-truth and the interim. when will it be my turn?
x0x0x0x
But how many corners do I have to turn?
How many times do I have to learn
All the love I have is in my mind?
thanks to sarah mclachlan, david gray, and of course the incomparable richard ashcroft and the lonly choir mp3 i happened to have.
she’s got looks that kill
the setting:
I’m currently sitting on my crappy ass couch in a pair of grey yoga pants + grey tshirt, with all three pugs sleeping on my extended legs. VH1 Classic is on, and right now Motley Crue is rocking out (lita ford was on a few minutes ago and i was rocking out to “kiss me deadly”). It’s 2am.
ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.
You’re probably wondering “Lisa, why are you sitting in your grey yoga pants watching vh1 classic on a Sunday night at 2am, using Paul’s laptop (which was yours to being with)?”
BECAUSE in the space of a week the following has occurred:
- Gas lines were cut and we were without heat or hot water for nearly two days, and gas was restored a few hours before the big storm.
- The tivo has comatosed and is on life support. Thanks to the beautiful Kara, who is uploading an ISO of the backup for v3 for me to download and screw with, it should be off of life support this week. You don’t understand, Tivo IS MY BOYFRIEND. I will skip a car payment to get another one if i have to (and wring Paul’s nuts out in case it doesn’t work).
- So Paul says to me today “Oh Lisa *lashes fluttering*, we have to use YOUR PC to fix the tivo. I run NTFS on my drives and we need fat32 to do the backup and go ahead and do XYZ and we’ll get this puppy working.” Well, XYZ doesn’t work and what started out as something simple, ends with Paul going “Oh me!” *gasping O face* “I don’t have special torque screwdriver wrench hatchet to take off primary drive so we can divorce the drives” which means my PC is now in parts (which you can view me and the dogs having a good old time at). I plug everything back in and double check all connections, make sure everything is grounded, etc. Boot up. Bios does not recognize either of my cdrom drives or neither of my drives. Hrm. Take out, remove, reinstall, double and triple check. Nothing. I’m so pissed I’m gritting my teeth and shooting daggers at Paul. He does this big ‘sigh’, I tell him to fix it or else I’m going to plant foot into arse and not remove until done so. I go and fuck off. Do laundry. Vacuum. Feed the dogs. Do dishes. Wax the eyebrows. Start on dinner. I come and find him standing up playing GTA4:Vice City and he says super flirtatiously “OH sweetie, I can’t get it to work”. I glare daggers. He pauses game and goes back into the office. As dinner finishes, he comes back out and says “Oh i got one drive working and one cdrw working. You don’t need two cdroms.” I speak through my teeth “Who are you to say if i need two or not?” He just looks at me, blinking like an epileptic watching video games, “Oh we’ll fix it later sweetie. Don’t worry.”
WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO VAL KILMER THAT HE’S WHORING HIMSELF OUT TO NIKON DIGITAL?
ahem, so YAH. So i decide while I’m making dinner, that I want to write a faq about dating myself. Not me dating me, but for others to read to date me. Get it got it? Good. Because I need to come w/ a large warning label in hot pink that says PLEASE READ BEFORE OPENING.
Smashing Pumpkins doing the Fleetwood Mac song “landslide” was bad. Dixie Chix doing the “landslide” makes me want to stick hot pokers in my eyes. Though the one chick has this super cool hair going on.
But i digress.
Btw, I talk to the tv. and the radio. Just so you know.
So, it’s going on later, the Soprano’s are ending (holy shit!) and Paul and I are watching some Real Sex episode on HBO about the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada. I’m like, woah that is fucking cool. They make some crazy ass money and they are so comfortable with their sexuality and I so admire that. I have such a Madonna/Whore complex going on in my head sometimes it’s disgusting. I was telling Alisha about this the other night, that I admire people who are really so comfortable with their sexuality. I’m comfortable with my sexuality but i have this titch of exhibitionism going on and I really want to let her out.
Which is neither here nor there. So we are watching the Real Sex special and I’m saying “cool!” or “wow!” every five minutes, jamming away at my faq (and I just had gotten to the section and me and sex, which was getting REALLY interesting and I was getting supremely horny) when i put my feet down on the rug and i feel something wet. I thought I had spilled my beer (err Ben, I found a lone beer in the back of the fridge :o) and then I think “Oh fuck, what dog pissed on the carpet.” And i step gingerly around and the whole damn carpet is sopped! I scream and jump up *squish squish squish* and go grab towels and the towels are getting soaked quickly and the water is heading towards my pc. I make Paul unplug it and hand it to me and I run with it like it’s my baby to the kitchen and lay it gently on the counter. I also make him unplug everything in that vicinity. The carpet is fastly getting more soaked and it’s also now heading into the hall. I call the after-hours line and the security guy shows up and he’s like ‘yep you have a leak’ (thanks genius) and he says he’s going to get the maintance guy to come and fix it.
We retreated back to the office. I sat in my chair which is now parked behind Paul, Pugsley had jumped up and drapped himself across my chest (I guess he knows a great pair of tits when he lays on them) and I’m burning holes in the back of Paul’s head. He’s like “What did i do NOW.”
Well gee, I have no laptops (both were shipped back to Toshiba to get repaired on Saturday, and this is the one thing i don’t blame him for). My pc is in the kitchen and only half works. I can’t watch tv because when we took the tivo out of the entertainment center he could not be bothered to put things back together. He is sitting there flanked by two PCs and a laptop not giving a shit that I HAVE NOTHING. All my shit is either pieced apart or broken or something.
I continue glaring. Apparently I look the devil incarnate when i do this.
And I kid you not, the first thing I thought about when the idea of turning the water off was “Fuck. I can’t masturbate tonight, because then I can’t wash my hands.”
ahahahaha. Yes well. I have an active imagination. I refuse to apologize for it.
Paul gets off his ass and hooks the satellite box back to the tv so I can watch tv and I click on VH1 Classic as they were doing 80s special and I’m bopping around with the dogs drapped around me watching old def leppard, twisted sister, and new order. Hence why all the music references. Sammy Haggar, still cannot drive 55.
But I’m LAUGHING. I’m laughing because everything is so absurd. I’m grossing myself out because I did not shower today and now i have NO WATER. Paul’s like “oh we’ll just do the ghetto showering (using the water stored in the fridge) tomorrow and you’ll live” and I’m making faces because I’m grossed out by it. I won’t even be able to make CAWFEE tomorrow morning. Fuck, I’m gonna die.
But I’m laughing because the water being turned off till it’s repaired tomorrow is the least of all the shit that is going on THIS WEEK. Even having no heat for nearly two days didn’t top this one.
I’m laughing because in a week my brother has back stabbed me on various things and I had to remove him from my mailing list and now I’m looking for a one bedroom apartment which might be sketchy but I’ve never ever lived alone. I’m laughing because my lawyer calls me and tells me on Saturday that he was unable to sell stocks to put cash into my account and he’s going on vacation on 12/10 and will not be able to get money into the account until 12/20, which was the day I was planning on leaving, which would not be too terrible if it were not for the fact how much stuff gets pulled out from my debit before then. Paul has offered me cash but I refuse to take it because as he said tonight “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL I HAVE A CAR”. Oh the fuck I am not! I will be out of here before January 1st and no later and even if that means I go without anything but a car full of goods. You had THREE YEARS to get a car. Not. My. Problem. Kiss. My. Ghetto. Ass. Don’t ask. In my head it sounded like a good idea to stay at the time.
I’ll be spending Christmas alone due to reorganization issues. Again. Paul did this whole spiel Saturday night about how “OH we can stay together for Christmas and XYZ” and then drops this bomb on me while I’m orgasming eating at this awesome restaurant that night that ‘Oh, i HAVE to go home for Christmas blah blah blah’. I wanted to take the coffee I was drinking and toss it in his face. Then he comes back with oh you have to stay through the New Year so that we can have our departing sex. Right. This coming from someone who has believed/accepted or said I was a gold digging whore, that i’ve ruined his life, used him, abused him, drove away all our friends, held grudges, was rude crude and mean. And he wants to still fuck me… Sure. Whatever you say.
——
I’m laughing because I’m dying right now. I’m dying because I’m watching this video for Santana called “Game of Love” and people are smooching and if you gave me a choice between having okay sex or awesome kissing, I’m taking kissing hands down. I’d probably take kissing over most anything actually. It’s everything about the act, the hands, the whole caressing of the face. The whole burning look, hands in the hair. I’m so tired of dating guys who are crap ass kissers and are under this delusion that they are gods in bed. And it’s not just one ex it’s like majority of them. As TLC says “Girls Talk”. So back to this whole kissing thing, it’s a fetsih or something but whatever it is, the whole ritual gets me hot. Especially if the guy has good lips. mmmmmmmmmm. I can go for hours on this little fantasy alone. days even. Hell months even. 😉
and as it’s going on 6am, final note is that i need something answered. I have an online journal. This is my place. My space. My feelings. No regrets. So riddle me this batman, why is it when I start dating someone they are like “OH LISA, you are so UNLIKE anyone else. You are so (insert tired cliche). I’ve learned so much about you via your journal.” But when the breakup happens, as it tends to do, why is it their FIRST offense is this damn journal? ALWAYS. Without fail. Always. Always.
—–
I’ll leave you with my horoscope for today:
Dear lisa, here is your Horoscope for December 09, 2002
People around you might think that you have never matured, lisa, and that you still have the mind of a child. It might not seem obvious at first, but your light-hearted attitude is also a symbol of great wisdom. As others, who have committed to long-term romances, you will find out that you will never lose your light-heartedness.
—–
x0x0x0
leuke schoenen, gaan we neuken?
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 livejournal.com 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 Amazon.com 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 livejournal.com 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.
drama update
Just to let you guys know I’ve heard from a few people this morning and most of it seems to be dismay at the immaturity and stupidity of the whole, surrounding idea. I’ve been told I’m welcome to come hang in a few of the back channels if I choose to, which I really appreciated. A few admins implied an O: was available if I wanted it and one came out and offered it to me last week when I told him what was bound to happen.
I’ll be back but not in 15 channels and not spreading myself thin.
You can’t have an irc habit for 7 years and go cold turkey.
I just need to chill, I think.
lost my O: so fuck everyone
I was told tonight that I had lost my O: on washington*irc due to “lack of trust” by my admin, which was translated into “my best friend thinks your a golddigging whore so i’m yanking it.”
what had happened, in my view, is that i would not sleep with his best friend, so said best friend decided to make my life uncomfortable and cause a ruckus, resulting in my removal from the undernet network as an ircop. well not that swift, took my admin a week before my admin did it but i knew it was coming and i’m was not surprised. the irony is that haela had warned me about said best friend months ago and i failed to listen to her. i’m sorry kara.
i don’t sleep with someone, they talk smack about me and i get punished. yay.
I can still irc if i choose to, my admin can’t stop me from doing that on that network. The problem was is that for nearly a year I was a fixture on several help channels and I’m unable to help them now. I am not going to be on irc for awhile to cool my jets. Spent far too much time on it anyways.
i’m wholly tired of the he said she said bullshit games that seem to follow me around like there is no tomorrow. i have ZERO idea what it is about me that people seem to want to step in and just cause a ruckus. In high school i was a whore due to some vicious rumour started that i had fucked the whole swim team (um, i was still a virgin at the time and it was nearly a gang rape i fought off). As i got older, people for some reason loved using me as a pawn to either get something or meet something. The irony is, the blind hope I had that it would dissipate as I got older only shows that it hadn’t.
I am 30 years old. I am definitely not a conventional type of person, but there are some fundamental truths or given beings that i think we all should have, and one of them being having good friends (ie people who won’t stab you in the fucking back). Or being honest with each other, or at least open minded. I am just so TIRED of all this fucking bullshit and the layers of BS people use to surround themselves. It makes me sick.
I’ll be back on irc eventually, but in the interim you can reach me via e-mail, or
icq: home: 1231211
work: uunetgrl
aim: home: lisaisamodgirl
work: uunetgrl
yahoo: modgirllisa
those are always up and running.
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