i just removed a few paragraphs because what it was saying was not what i had wanted to say. i hate it when is start writing and it sounds like it’s convoluted between my fingers and the keyboard. i know that is the reason why i had purchased the practice books to start making my writing more stronger (is that even a proper sentence?) and i hate it when i start stumbling over things. It irritates me.
my mood changed almost 180 degrees sitting here listening to ‘stellar’ by incubus and ‘it’s been awhile’ by staind. in a sense, I’m getting home sick for grand rapids. and maybe it’s the memories. i have barely spoken two words to Danny in weeks now that he’s moved in with Karen and they are sharing a phone line. he hasn’t finished some of his projects in the house and the other night he IM’d me when i was at work and I couldn’t even really properly respond because there were other people in my cube.
i know it’s the weather. i definitely know it’s the weather. this up coming weekend tool is coming to the MCI center and it looks like an 80% chance that I’m going AND the tickets will be free AND i will be sitting my chubby little butt in boxed seats (hence why i haven’t talked to Danny because the last time i saw tool was with him in ’96 and he’s a much larger tool fan than i and i guess other than Paul, anyone I’d want to go with me is him — even though Paul isn’t going). tool’s song ‘schism’ is playing right now on spinner and I’m really excited as I’m also seeing tori next Sunday night (yeah when i do concerts, i really do them). my friend heather needs a concert buddy and i volunteered to make myself that buddy. we get along pretty well, so why not? it’s either that or sit glued in front of my computer screen all night and personally, i would rather sit there and drool over both maynard and tori — but that is just me.
i got an intense feeling of melancholy this afternoon being with rob, as we were wandering around his new area of ballston/arlington and had shuffled off to Ikea together to buy crap. I’ve been altering lately between being really content and not wanting to rock the boat and wanting to stand up and just shake the living fuck out of it.
right now my life is pretty content. I’ve got a roof over my head, a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out if i choose. I’ve got a job, money in my pocket and materialistically everything I’ve wanted (to an extent, but hey i don’t think I’ll be wearing the hope diamond anytime soon) but I’m not really happy. I’m not unhappy, I’m in this middle of the lane change and i have no idea what’s driving me crazy. things could be worse but then again, a lot of my stresses that would drive other people insane (like the whole situation with my mom) just kind of rolls of my back. There are definitely things i want to do but I’m afraid to move. I don’t feel like I’m suffocating just yet, just that I’m happily treading in water.
You do need to learn how to doggy paddle before you learn how to swim.
x0x0x
Lisa
Tag: ExFiance 2
listserve at listserve dot edu
I just signed up for a mailing list on the old school majordomo and I got this all nostalgic feeling. with the advent of JUST HOW MUCH CRAP there is on the Internet, we can now run mailing lists off of public servers such as yahoo or topica. the old skool version of having to get confirmed (or it being attached to a .edu )
Paul commented last night there was nothing new on the web and in a sense I agree with him — it already feels like everything has been said/done and buried. but I miss finding new things and doing new things. But in the same token, a lot of stuff I want to do I can do here locally (and try to drum up users as well — like create a mailing list for local stuff etc).
I am feeling quixotic.
electric fried eel
Tonight I met my friend Mark, one of my oldest on-line friends, in person.
Mark and I have had our ups/downs in the last five+ years we have known each other. I met him shortly after he got married to now when he is going through a divorce. He’s seen me move from Michigan to California to Virginia. We’ve had our fights and our moments of closeness. Tonight, unplanned, we decided to hook up.
I am, very very comfortable, with meeting people I have first met on- line. A good chunk of the relationships and friendships I have know is due to the Internet (including my fly-by-the-seats experiences and also thanks in part how i got my job). I wasn’t nervous. As stated, I’m very comfortable with meeting people I know on-line. It is, simply put, a further extension of myself by greeting them in person. I told Mark that I would hug him when I see him (typically, i come from a very demonstrative family. i am so surprised that i have yet to get a “sexual harassment” filed on me at work for how friendly we are to each other). A few hours later after work (with him getting lost on 495 — damn beltway), he ding donged my doorbell and there he was!
I hugged him and Paul was being a bitch and didn’t want to meet him, we grabbed my purse and took off for Best Buy.
It turns out Mark has never sat in a Saturn before AND he’s never been to Starbucks! So, i devirginized him in two separate things tonight.
He and I sat outside of Starbucks (which was next door to best buy. I got the “Hannibal” dvd and the dvd of “Memento” — a movie I’ve been dying to see) and drank our coffee and talked. It was such a peaceful night — the air was a tad crisp (perfect for wearing my new cords), the sky was really clear and we laughed at all the idiots passing us by and i tickled him for good measure. Mark smelled great and I was happy to have met him. He looked so angelic compared to the previous pics i saw with all of his piercings. Mark also has a few tattoos and we talked about ink and life and relationships. I had a really good time.
Prior to all of this, I had asked Paul if we had any plans for tonight and he had said no. So when I told him not only was I going to meet mark, but that I wanted him to meet him, he went into bitch-mode and threatened to deck Mark. I told Paul, bluntly, that I had a right to go out with friends and that if i was having an affair with Mark, I would not tolerate this super possessive attitude Paul has been showing of late and he could either accept the fact I was going out or he could be a little bitch. Paul choose to be a little bitch. It was not 10 minutes after our conversation this afternoon in which I told him this (and he had told me we had no plans for tonight), that he asked what time everyone was meeting up for the weekly game of pool at Breakers. I wanted to kill him.
My assertiveness to be ‘me’ and not Paul’s latchkey seems to be working. We talked tonight and decided not to have sex anymore unless we truly wanted to be together — and not have sex for the sake of sex. He wanted to get to know me better and become friends again. I really really appreciate this sentiment and am willing to give it ago because I can admire that he said this to me. I know we have a lot to work out on, and I remain firm though in my decision to start having a life outside my relationship with Paul and if he chooses to come with me on my decisions, than we will be so much the better as a couple.
But no guarantees and no promises of tomorrow. We just have to live our life day by day and see what happens.
x0x0x
lisa
fire woman
I was having a post-coital moment after sex tonight sitting on the toilet reading stuff (the august 2001 issue) when the article on “how to stratify her to tears…of joy!” caught my eye.
Apparently, in this article, the journalist(s) dis on everything from different positions and tantric and kama sutra saying that in short, none of it works. They blamed Sting for how bad tantric is because part of the exercises is that you have to stare into your lovers eyes for hours before even engaging sex. Also, apparently, ‘dirty talk’ (72%) and ‘anal sex’ (41%) were on the list of ‘kinky things’ people have tried. In the category of ‘kinky things we have tried and didn’t like’, group sex (38%) and anal sex (38%) were the top two things people would never try again. Also listed were bondage, role play and voting for a democrat.
Aha. They polled 1200 Cosmo readers. NOW it makes sense.
In any regard, this recent backlash of going to an almost puritanical stint in the terms of human sexuality is all wrong. Women should be gathering and empowering their sexiness, not turning into boring little boards with boobs. it angers me. yes missionary is fine. Vanilla sex is fine. But even after awhile you start to count the threads in the sheets you are so bored.
I’ve been in this mood lately, since i arbitrarily changed my meds to 75mg of Effexor and 150mg of Serzone. When I was on the 350mg EFfexor and 50mg of Serzone, i was thinking clearly but my sex drive was low. Since mid-july (due to when I was in Michigan and having to ration out my crack), I’ve been on this new cocktail, I’ve been feeling more sensual and sexual. It’s like taking a hot bath after days of having no hot water. It’s a wonderful feeling. I can tell by the change in drugs how my mood has changed and how more confident I feel (Don’t worry Dr. B, I’ll be making an appointment again, I haven’t forgotten) both naked and when wearing clothes. I feel more alive, as it were.
This is of course, bothering Paul, to some extent. I took the initiative and put a personals ad on nerve.com to meet people (no, not just for sex but to just make friends with hello) in the area that i hadn’t already met via work or some geeky type of thing. I wanted to meet people that were of my interest and not just the geeky-types. I was getting pretty fed up with how our social life was resulting in meeting people and Paul chubbing a wood because of all the toys everyone has. Not to say our local friends aren’t great, they are, i just need more.
Which is the story of my life.
At any rate, I’ve been striking up conversations with people via nerve and having a damn fine time. I plan on meeting one in October when both of our schedules are free and another longtime ‘net friend this weekend (i hope) since he is finally getting a divorce from his wife and we can hang out without her getting feisty about it. I’m also going to start taking dance classes next week (adult tap/jazz/ballet) as I haven’t danced in years (not including clubbing) and i don’t want to look like a big dork when I DO go clubbing (thanks alisha!).
So sex is on my mind and today i had shaved every hair on my body i could find, even down to my cunt making it as bald as i could with a bread trimmer and my Venus razor. I get so turned on by shaving, I instantly masturbated after my shower thinking of a lisa sammich. Afterwards, wrapped in a towel and a bathrobe, i walked out to the computer room, grabbing Paul’s hand to feel my hairless cunt, telling him, lets go make some noise. As per usual, he was more interested in Tony Hawk than fulfilling my needs and immediately got upset when I had told him I had masturbated. He accused me of cheating. When I asked whom was I cheating with (we were standing in our bedroom at the time), he said Aaron Lewis (lead singer of Staind, my lust for bald tattoo’d pierced men has come to the forefront again). I laughed. At any rate, I attempted to pin him down this evening for some quality pussy time when he kept giving me the jibe of ‘not right now’, and I’m thinking to myself “you know, fuck this, he always put his computers in front of me and I’m sick of it’, so i said ‘are you turning me down?’ and he said ‘no, just not right now I’m busy (playing a video game)’. so i begged and i pleaded and finally we went to the bedroom and started snuggling.
Paul now has this new habit of where he no longer feels ‘dominant’ or ‘aggressive’ cos he’s not in the mood to be. To preface this, we both have ‘issues/matters/concerns’ with our sex life, which has lead heavy discussion with Dr. B on what to do next. Primarily “was it me or is it him or what the fuck is going on”. Partly, he is scared because anything that is beyond vanilla i tend to get upset at. Riguse anything that is beyond episodes within the last few years and now that I’m on crack, i feel so much the better for it. I learned how to deal with my anger and my depression (as it were), and i want to have more. Nothing so far, is seemingly, working. It’s a huge issue between us, as you have probably guessed.
So by this time tonight, I’m hot and horny again (i have no idea what’s been setting me off lately — my trigger points usually are smells and music, but this time everything seems to be setting me off), and I’m rubbing up and down Paul in my grey little nightie and thong looking at him adorably and telling him I want to go make love (I’m changing tactics here, I’m infamous for wanting to just ‘fuck’). I beg and plead some more and we go off to the bedroom where Paul climbs under the covers and starts being passive. I’m trying hard not to get angry, I’m trying hard to be different in approaching him in anticipation he see’s i really do want him. This continues for a few minutes while I snuggle and kiss him and I feel like I’m ‘forcing’ myself on him. I get his shirt and underwear off and climb on top of him, 69 style, driving my cunt into his face with only my thong to keep him from tasting me. Usually, this works. Usually, he is such a cunt-eater, that even the smell just gets him going. I’m giving him head, notating how I give it and paying a lot of attention to his cock, all the while I’m driving and grinding down hard on his face and he is just …. laying there. He is hard and he is moaning, but he is just laying there. So I reach around, pull my thong to the side and shove my cunt deeper in his face. He finally starts reciprocating. After awhile, I get naked, grab a condom, sit on him and place his hands on my breast. I start just moving my hips only slowly, very very very slowly and Paul is like ‘come here and give m a kiss’ and I’m not in the mood to be kissed, i just want to feel his cock inside of me. I’m grinding away and he comes but at the same time i keep mashing his hands against my breasts and he sighs this content of relief.
I roll over on the bed still hornier than fuck (i have only been able to cum vaginally once, maybe twice in my life) and start to masturbate. Paul has referred me to being male as I roll over and just sleep when I’m satiated.
Sex has been figuring heavily in my mind lately as I’m watching friends of mine divorce or break-up and one of the biggest reasons why is “lack of affection/lack of sex” (besides cheating, but I won’t go into that). I value having a relationship with Paul, but this putzy way we are having sex is driving me crazy. We used to have fun in the begriming (as I refer to as the “Atlanta time”) and now i feel like we are an old married couple. We seriously need to start working on this issue before I stab him or something because I do not want to spend my life with someone who isn’t sexually compatible with me. People get married for all the wrong reasons, and while I may love someone deeply or am in love with someone deeply, i DO however see sex and love as being together and not separate. I never thought, in a million years, of being with someone I wasn’t sexually attracted to, had that intense feeling with, etc and staying with them because i loved them. Physical love needs to grow as well as spiritual love. No more compromises and no more ‘another times’.
the time is now.
x0x0x
Lisa
I’ve moved a lot in my relatively young life. When is started thinking about all the places I’ve moved to, I wanted to draw up a list:
- 1972 – Born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada
- 1972 – Moved from Toronto to Port Huron, MI
- 1985 – Port Huron MI to Grand Rapids MI – apartment complex
- 1989 – GR: Apartment complex to my mothers lovers (Chuck) house
- 1990 – GR: Mothers lovers house to her own house on Paris Ave
- 1990 – GR back to Toronto, Canada
- 1991 – Toronto back to Grand Rapids, MI
- 1996 – GR: Moved from my mothers house in with Danny
- 1997 – GR: Moved back to Mothers house
- 1997 – Grand Rapids, MI to San Francisco, CA
- 1997 – SF: Changes apartments
- 1998 – Moved to Oakland, CA
- 1999 – Moved from Oakland, CA to Virginia Beach, VA
- 1999 – Moved from VB to Fairfax
- 2001 – Moved from Fairfax to Herndon, VA
- 2001 – Herndon: Moved across the complex to a smaller apartment
the real me
i could spend an inordinate time filling in the back story of these last few months that have whizzed by pretty fast. but the thing is, i don’t think neither of us really care anymore about the back story, as i always end up trading that in for the current moment.
life has shown me, in the last year and a half, how incredibly sweet and short it is. I’ve discovered that anger isn’t a way to deal with things (I’m an executive goth btw), that you shouldn’t put yourself or let yourself get into situations that make you uncomfortable and you should primarily write for yourself and make yourself happy.
while these are easy words to say, and easy words to write, i know making that first step and that tiny step is the most important one. It’s like when I joined weight watchers and had to admit i was a bit too chubby for a girl my size, and that i had to admit that i used food to compensate for “issues,matters and concerns” that were plaguing my life at the moment.
and that has ALWAYS been my problem, my god i laugh now thinking about seeing my one therapist Charlie back in the old days when I was living in Grand Rapids and he said “your problem isn’t depression, or a mental issue; but men.” And he said it so plainly and to the fact I guffawed at him later on thinking he was full of crap. But when you examine my life and look at all the minute details at it, everything surrounding me has to do with me and or the problem with men. Either I’m pining for them, moving cross country for them or basically injecting some male into my life as making him into the circle that is me is going to change and make everything better.
I would always, ALWAYS give friends a hard time and put this front up about how you should never let a man run you down or let a man run your life and here i repeat the same pattern my sisters before me have done for thousands of years.
And it’s NOT because I’m a femi-nazi and it’s not because i hate men (i generally do like and get along with them more so than with women) but romantically, i suck major dick (ahahahah) at relationships and it’s pretty obvious when I’ve been in three failed ‘adult’ relationships leading up to living with each other that I am doing something wrong.
This is also not to say that the men involved are blameless or that they are the trouble maker, no, it’s me that makes the bad decisions and it is i who must pay the consequences.
Perhaps it’s said that I watch too many effing movies, but the one I adore and comes to mind often is Dream for an Insomniac which I KNOW I’ve mentioned before. “Anything less than extraordinary is a waste of my time.”
I feel love should be like this: passionate, caring, compromising, and willing to do short of murder for that person. Your knees should get weak when you see them and the tension and the chemistry between you and he/she should be thick enough that you can here the cackling in the air. I’ve shared so many moments in my life with someone and felt that, for a brief minute and I want to capture that feeling and bottle it. I want to keep it by my side and make it available to me 24 hours a day seven days a week.
I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it till one day i believe it. I feel like I’m fighting for my own personality and discovering who I am. Derrick said after we had gone and gotten his tattoos one night, that they made him feel more like himself and more confident, and he’s right. I like the look of metal after it’s been shoved into my body.
Paul and i are still together and are attempting to work things out. He wants me to promise him forever and a day, and I can’t promise that. A lot of shit got fucked up within the last year of our relationship and I’m not sure where this is going to go. We are not getting married though I do wear the promise ring he gave me until some concrete decisions have been made and some work has been done on us. Things could work out, things could not, it’s all up to the hands of fate.
I remember years ago when I was dating Miguel and he said to me “I love you but I’m not in love with you” and I always though they were one and the same. It wasn’t until as I got older and realized that I have loved many people (and loved many men) but i have been in love with only a scant few. Alan. Danny. Paul in the beginning. I believe that being in love with someone lasts for a lifetime, even if you grow apart. But you can love someone as well and not be in love with them. As I grow older, I see that I care more for about being in love than loving someone and being comfortable in that relationship. I would feel like I was missing out on everything in the world.
Of all the mundane things in the world, love isn’t one of those things you want to fuck up.
———————
As you can see, the new modgirl.net is up. None of the links are working and I’m still working on the back end. I just got really effing tired of seeing the same crap day in and day out and wanting to continue writing and putting it off because I had not done the site yet. Fuck it.
History often repeats itself.
x0x0x0x
lisa
pictures galore
This summer has been pretty busy, with my mom attempting to commit suicide, Paul and I calling off the wedding, and me getting inked/pierced galore. Plus include my obsession with Power Girls, my puppies and getting acrylic on my nails, it has been strange. To keep you interested until I get the website up and moving again, here are pics taken with the new digital camera I got for my birthday, indexed per subject.
Enjoy.
Tattoos/Piercings:
left calf tattoo done 8/11/2001
eyebrow pierced 8/11/2001, nose pierced 3/1993
10g barbell put in 7/1999, pierced 1996
mom’s name ‘marietta’, two different variations
picture taken summer of 99
tongue pierced, 7/1997
Paul’s dragon, left upper arm
Paul’s right wrist
x0x0x0x
Lisa
pauly is 21
today, 5/9/2001, my little luv muffin finally turned 21 🙂
and we are taking him out tonight to get hammered 😀
more details forthcoming —
ps: go check out www.novageeks.org — i just redesigned it — and am thinking about adding a message board to modgirl as well.
Comments?
DISCUSS!
Lisa
—-
Tonight marked my fifth meeting of going to weight watchers.
it began when S. suggested we get our bodies moving (primarily since she found herself wearing size 20 jeans on her small frame) and I was personally disgusted with learning i was carrying 283 pounds on my 6′ tall frame.
The picture to your left was taken approximately four days before we started.
A month later, I’ve dropped 10 of the 100 pounds i want to lose and am feeling much better about myself.
What cracks me up about being on WW is that I don’t see it as a diet — I really do see it as a “life changing way of eating” (snort) — and for me this is not about wanting to be a size 6 — it has never been about me wanting to be a size 6 — it’s always been about feeling good and looking good for the rest of my life. I know from my personal experience growing up that being ‘overweight’ (or chubby as we call it in the rabey-sullivan household) has always been a disadvantage for many reasons but one of the things that stand out in my mind as a child is the torment I received being the biggest (and tallest) kid in my class as well as the pain my brother went through when he was younger and fatter (he’s a lean 250lbs on his 7′ frame). My brother passed along his then anxiety to my mother by badgering her about being overweight. The cycle would start over and over and over
Plus I’m hell bent on wearing a red thong bikini before my tata’s head far too south.
The WW plan is simple: each food is given x number of points. You are allowed to eat x number of points per day. You go to meetings once a week and get weighed in, pay your 14 bucks, listen to the “team lead” to motivate you and you start again. I like this “life changing” way of eating. It’s easy to keep track of and i can eat anything ANYTHING i want to. My third week (second week on the diet), I lost four pounds but I had eaten taco bell, pizza and cake as well as other food that week. I am not deprived of anything — which is a good thing. Other diets I’ve been on sucked major ass as I had to remove carbs, remove fat, count this and weigh that. This diet is literally fool proof. Hell i lost 10 pounds, that has got to say something,
But I’m excited. This feels right to me and I’m faithfully chronicling
my food journal everyday (wish i could say
the same about TLC sometimes 😉 if you know what i mean winkwinkwink).
What I’m tired of is the naysayers who say shit like:
“Oh 10 pounds? That’s mostly water weight.” Water weight? Jesus. Give me a break — I’m female, I get my period every month, i know what water weight is — and water weight does slide off your body at the average of 2-3lbs a week. This is FAT (not to be confused with phat) that is sliding off.
“Oh, you don’t need to lose weight/get in shape/diets are a bunch of scams”: One of my coworkers made a comment similar to this some time ago and it really burned my britches. They implied that since I had a man, there was no reason for me to feel good about myself. I wanted to bitch slap them into oblivion. Other comments over the years have produced the same results, but herein lies my own mental psychology — people are cruel. Yes, this is a common thread we’ve all experienced in our lives, but if you are fat/handicapped/look different, people are even more so cruel. Why are they cruel? To make themselves feel better about themselves — fuck, I do it myself when I’m being catty about other women I see (“ohmygod, she is wearing white shoes with a black dress!”) and about other things myself. I’m not innocent in this little game we play with each other myself here, I’ll take my lumps with the rest of you. Obesity (yes, since I am “technically” 100lbs over weight, I am “obese”) runs in my family, hereditary diseases like diabetes also runs rampart in my family as well as various diseases pertaining to the ovaries. One of the causes is being overweight. So fuck me for wanting not to die at an early age.
“Oh, you look fine just the way you are”: See above.
And the list goes on and on and on, but you get the point I’m making here.
Then you have the people who are chronic dieters — they talk about their experiences all the time at the meetings, about how they lost xx number of pounds and then gained it back after lifechangingevent/baby/xyz. Or the frantic dieters who drink nothing but water two days before the weigh in and piss for 48 hours to get rid of the weight. Or the snack-freaks who eat nothing for 24 hours and pig out on krispy kremes after the meeting. These are all the stories shared and some of them lack such common sense and others are just plain funny.
S. and I are feeling a bit out of sorts because we don’t feel like we belong to the group we meet with every week. Most of them are over 40 and most of them want to lose that extra 15lbs that has been hanging around since the Vietnam war. As twentysometings (ie young), we don’t get the obsession some of these women put into dieting as well as some of the more “motivational” uses some of the use — like the really obese woman who weighs herself twice a day and freaks out if she gains a few ounces — that’s just unrealistic (and funnily scary).
I just want to feel good and feel better about myself and I’m taking it one day at a time, I just wish some of these women would understand that doing this for xx amount of days is not going to get them down to a size 4/6 for their honeymoon/midlife crisis/etc. To me that is just disturbing.
x0x0x
Lisa
reality bites
does anyone remember the movie reality bites? see i remember when it was first released, and my friend sherry and i had declared this anthem that this movie was about us — it was us. i was a mix of vickie miner and lani pierce while sherry was more of a lani pierce but with blonde hair, more trendy and more into doing for herself than lani was.
but it was never about who we personified, it was always the attitude.
Paul and i went to a party last night, which was okay, but realized with our lifestyles that we really don’t fit in with the group we had gone to see. it was supposed to be to meet people and branch your networking activities, but we both sat on the couch nursing beers feeling out of the scene. it was depressing to realize how many of the people knew each other going back to high school and college and had the same common interests and could relate to each other on my different levels — while as Paul and i sat there like lumps on the log. we left hurriedly to catch “The Mummy Returns” but even seeing imhotep and brendan fraser didn’t get my blood boiling — which it should have.
the problem with the world today, or i should say one of the problems with the world today is that the generation I’m in (which IS generation x, thank you. not this pre-teen bullshit) is now the Internet generation (or generation d as freaking wcom calls it) and now we are all broke and poor and have no business acumen.
I’m struggling sometimes to find that place back when i had something to say — not just i saying something but that energy and that ranting of the time when we were young. but i no longer belive that being young was the cause of our angst or our vitality – it was just this whole new different world that was waiting for us when we left college and went out to the workforce.
and you’re right, who am i kidding that no one has ever felt or done this way before — because with each passing generation there is a new thinker, a new doer a new someone who has discovered or done something that will be rediscovered once more.
almost famous
news and reviews:
I’ve been wanting for a long time to make my website pda enabled (well, since i found out that waitingforbob.com was pda and Netscape channlized) and i finally figured out how. if you want TLC on your pda, just go here and follow the instructions. Bop me an email if you have any questions.
This weekend was a very slow and lazy weekend — the kind where paul and i did not have guests so we could relax but on the flip side i was so wired from — something (dunno what) that i couldn’t sit still for longer than five minutes at a time. i bounced around from cleaning to organizing to walking the dogs because no one could stay put in the same spot. on the flip side, paul was so bored that he took a three hour nap yesterday afternoon to relieve the boredom.
my mind was whirling at a speed i couldn’t comprehend. i would walk around doing stuff thinking of better and shorter ways to organize and clean. i couldn’t walk in the bathroom without putting towels away and putting towels away meant doing laundry and doing laundry meant i had to clean up the bedroom. so the simple act of putting something away was prolonged by insistence on doing 15 different things at once.
one of my obsessive/compulsive is cleaning and paul calls me the goff martha stewart because i love to clean. I’ve always admired working with my hands and putting things in order so that it is just so. I’m not so anal that there are not mess’s laying around but there is an order to the chaos of our lives and that order is me.
so i cleaned and organized and sorted and did things that i haven’t been able to do in the preceding weeks (paul cooks — we’ll just leave it at that) and finally crashed early later on in the after noon.
it all started when i was sitting on irc and someone brought up the infamous sexchart of which I am listed (just do a find for simunye — you’ll find me). Which made me REALLY FUCKING ANGRY! I sat there snapping to people on irc about something that happened to me only four years ago and yet feels like a lifetime ago.
Some of it came out in the open in the news two years ago when I sang to the major papers (and never following up on my chances for writing for wired — second time in my life I’ve blown a major opportunity like this) about my relationship with se7en which seems like a nightmare and a life time many times removed from now.
the anger subsided later on in the night when paul and i had hit the local barnes and noble and i got a tall raspberry mocha frap (i am a trend setter — starfucks is now selling a ‘raspberry mocha chip’ frap in their stores. i don’t drink that swill — just mocha frap with raspberry syrup for me thanks).
but i couldn’t place my finger on what was making me so angry — so much has changed in the last four years since i moved to san francisco (almost four years to the day) and since when i left for Virginia. i sat there in the car just staring into space trying to think why i was so pissed, and not one goddamn reason was coming up. maybe because it was with my relationship with christian where i had laid all my eggs in one basket and they got scrambled or the thinking that my relief of finding someone like me wasn’t even close to being true. maybe it was the lies, the cheating and how i had fucked him in the summer of 97 when he was cheating on me with someone who he cheated on with me in Vegas. I still remember the look on his face when he told me he was breaking up with me — or the look on my face when i was jumping around for joy in my brain. I remember sitting in the bathroom at 4am in the morning writing in my journal about how much i hated laying next to him when i had no where else to go. I hated feeling weak and insecure and unloved.
with the help of Dr. B (indirectly I’ll add), I’ve been making a timeline in my head of where everything fell apart — and it was always with the men (which, one shrink had pointed out so wisely to me many years ago). With each passing relationship, where i had thrown myself into thinking i was in love with them, and getting trampled on only to have hurt the ones who have really loved me (danny, justin, and now paul). I think about this a lot – that the new spanking apartment in Herndon is still the crappy old apartment in El Cerrito, CA because in my head while the things around me have changed significantly, what is in my head has not. I still feel trapped and scared and unwilling to deal with what is truly bothering me than dealing with the present. and the past. and the future.
haven’t you ever just wanted to say “enough is enough” – but I’ve been screaming enough is enough for a long time now and I’m not getting any response back. i feel like the little boy who cried wolf — that simply (and honestly) no one believes me. it makes me smile saying that because in my youth — and to me my youth was in my early 20s, i always thought that the man i was with ‘right now’ was the one who was ‘forever’ — instead of just saying ‘he is mr right now’. but i was young and foolish and what did i know from any better on anything at that time other than i just wanted, simply and honestly, to be loved.
i wish someone had explained to me long time ago how to be more rational instead of being pigheaded and stubborn. i look at paul and i know deep in my heart we are meant to be together but from somewhere within I’m not allowing it to happen. to be relaxed and to watch him and love him. it was so easy a few years ago when he was 3000 miles away and like everyone before him, i have him and i don’t know what to do with him.
everyone wants me to talk, because i never say anything about me anymore anywhere i just agree and ask questions and forget what i asked. i want to learn about the people around me but forget when they tell me things because somewhere, unconsciously, perhaps i don’t care. or perhaps i care too much? it doesn’t hurt anymore thinking about it — i suppose the Effexor is good for one thing is stabilizing my emotions but for the last two years, i haven’t had that many emotions to deal with. i worry about the people who loved me I’ve left behind and about not being a good enough employee, girlfriend, daughter, sister daughter or lover.
i remember the ages of my youth falling with a twinkle in my eye and I’m watching paul going through what i went through less than a decade ago. i remember thinking i was never ever going to put myself in the position to be in a relationship with someone unless i was truly passionate about them and i remember what it was like being passionate and feeling i was in love with paul and knowing even know that i am but feel dead inside for no real discerning reason. sometimes i would think i would give up some things in my life only to feel alive like i did when i was younger and more naive because the i had not learned or handed myself to the ways i was now.
even then when i hated myself for being so impassioned i would look at this new self even more and shudder thinking what it was like to become her and how did she end up like this? i wish there was a way to chip the ice off of my heart so i can feel the love i feel for paul instead of looking at him sometimes waiting for him to leave like everyone else did before or lie or cheat or say something to make me wish i was noting more than a mattress with a hole in it. i wish i could feel the rage and the passion and the ups and the down of life instead of feeling like I’m drifting off into no mans land, on an ice cube in the Arctic.
i think you get my point.
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lisa
getting started
the month of April has whizzed by pretty quickly and for it weren’t the fact that, well i just lost my train of thought, so there is no fact.
Sam and her husband Brendan came down twice this month, sending Sam and I into the flurry of shopping at Ikea, HomeDepot, and shopping for clothes.
Sam and I are nearly the same height (she’s 5’11 and I’m a smidgen taller) and our bodies are shaped very similar. We discovered that we wore nearly the same size and so i gave Sam a pair of jeans that were small on me but fit me fine. I took her shopping and let her enjoy the wonderment of finding clothes that FIT. We stormed HomeDepot at midnight picking up a level, anchors and an electric screwdriver to hang up cd-racks, shelves and anything else we could get our hands on from our nearly thrice spending sprees at Ikea. And thanks to Sam’s great sense of level and physics, my apartment now rocks.
Our first time setting up the cd-racks and picture frames (that she, of course, hand painted out of sheer boredom and discovered that she loved doing it) were off by quite a few inches. We *thought* it looked level, but her husband came in and looked at the wall and started laughing his ass off (as well as paul) because of the crookedness of the racks and frames. We are now the tool-time girls of Northern Virginia.
I love having Sam and Brendan down here as since they are a couple (and Brendan used to live with Paul many moons ago) and we all get along (there were days way back when when we all did’ not get along.) so well. But I know the drive down here is hard for them (300 miles one way but yet it always turns out to be an all day even for them as something always comes up — you know like Easter weekend traffic!) and I’m attempting to reciprocate by going back up there but scheduling time when we all have time seems to be a conflict. That and we are all lazy 🙂 I would love to go on a vacation with them somewhere new where we can call chill out for a week or so. *hinthinthint*
Rob’s roommate, S., and I got to talking a while back and decided to join weight watchers together (she prefer to be anonymous at this point) and start working out. I’m starting on a journal to get motivated on this. The whole schism of WW is that it’s a point system and you have x amount of points available to everyday. You can bank points and you can exercise points off — but the goal is that it helps people to lose weight and do a new way of thinking. I’m finishing up week 1 and so far (surprise surprise) and I’ve done fairly well for myself. Stayed within my point range and even worked out. The journal will keep a somewhat updated blabbering (I’m using blogger for this one) of the diet, weekly weigh-ins and what not. I’m really really really wanting this as I had promised myself to be thin by the time I turned 30 (which is in a little over a year) and be in shape for the rest of my life before I end up getting diabetes or anything else that runs through my family due to obesity. Yes, I am considered obese — I’m 100lbs over my “target” weight (and that’s at the high end scale). I’m shooting for a goal of 170-180 as being my “goal” weight but I need to take it 10 percent at a time and then work on it from there. I just got overly excited when browsing some online shops like oldnay.com and gap.com as they now carry larger sizes (up to a 20) but by their standards, I’m too big for a 20. which is funny because I can fit into a size 20 at lane Bryant but as S. pointed out, Lane Bryant also sizes up 1/2 size for clothes.
I hated being that inbetween weight a few years back where I had been too big for normal clothes and too small for Lane Bryant. Now the desire to feel and look sexy is far outweighing the eating and the simple ability to want to wear freaking JEANS comfortably is motivating me to do this.
The irony is that S. reminds me a lot of my friend Sherry from back home in Michigan — down to their attitude about certain things. I’ve tried looking Sherry up online and called her last known phone number, but it had been disconnected. She knows how to find me if she really wanted to — but not seeing someone for nearly two years can change a lot about a person.
As the month slowly comes to a close, I’m rushing around getting things together for my brothers 22nd birthday, Paul’s 21st birthday and my upcoming birthday in June (I’ll be 29 going on 22 — again). My father has been in my thoughts more so in these last few weeks as he’s been dead a year on 4/25 and that was with his death my whole anxiety had come unleashed out into the open. Last summer was major hell and I sure as fuck do not plan on going through that same hell again this summer.
Working towards improving something, even yourself, is such hard work. I could see where I slip as I watched paul eat Oreo’s tonight (I had two — which used up quite a few points and opted not to have anymore this evening) and thinking about the strange dreams I’ve been having and wondering what they mean, the smell of the fresh cut grass and feeling the sun burn against my arm as my legs stick to the leather of my car seats. Everything seems to be winding down nicely and everything seems calm for the moment.
Now only if I can get Wednesday (the spayed female pug) to stop mounting and attempting to fuck Lily (the unspayed female pug), my world would be a better place.
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Lisa