Visitors and Visiting

Phew. I've spent the last week and a half either having visitors and visiting NY. Fun, but I'm glad spring break is over.

I'm in crunch time for the pattern of the month for the store, but barring any printer disasters, I should be able to get it all set for tomorrow. I don't know how this happens...I really don't procrastinate all month, yet somehow I'm always coming down to the wire.

So, a while back, Stella wrote a post about settling. I can't find it...it was ages ago....I've mentioned I'm way, way behind, right? Well, to be honest, the post kind of pissed me off. I'm not entirely sure why. Oh....if you're reading this Stella, this is not a reflection on you...it was just my testy internal response to the blog post. And hell...here I am talking about it months later, so hopefully you won't take offense at me using it as a jumping off point. But after different things happening, and thinking about it for while, I think what my gripe really is....its with the word "settling." Thar's some shitty connotation with that word, now isn't thar? And honestly, I think that settling really seems to just means a shift in priorities when it comes to finding someone to live life with and maybe abandoning a fairy tale sense of romance. Maybe you decide that you want to be with someone who has a similar belief system, or educational level. Odds are that you came to this decision through either painful or fruitless relationships with other people. So, you decide that this quality it more important than the crushy gushy beginnings. It just doesn't seem like this progression should need to have the negative connotations of settling. Does it? Is it just me? Roo (who is currently blogless) was one of my visitors this past week and insisted that I just felt this way because of recent burns, but I maintained that it wasn't just that. Sure, getting burned by the crushy-gushies sucks, but there's a whole lot more to it.
First....I'm old! Haha....not really, but I'm old enough to not need to be all wrapped up in my partner. I'm perfectly happy having separate sections of my life that have nothing to do with him. And more than not needing to be wrapped up to that extent, I think I would prefer it at this point. It's just so exhausting, and I am waaaay over it.
Second, I seem to suck at choosing men based on the crushy gushies. Yup, somehow, I almost always choose a loser. Or at least one of those fine men that can pretend to be wonderful for 3 month and then, somehow, someway, they suck beyond belief forevermore. I know some of you can relate to this one.
And then... there was more that I can't remember now. I'm so out of practice blogging! But really, what do you guys think about settling? I feel like its an unfair way to look at finding someone based on....well....research. I've researched. This guy sucks for this reason. That guy sucks for some other reason. We're going to try to eliminate some of those variables and see if it works out any better. Anybody got a grant for me? Or at least some thoughts?

What smells so funky in here?

Oh, it must be me.

Yeah, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Just sort of bouncing between feeling restless and exhausted and angry and sad and frustrated. Sometimes I feel like I must be at some sort of transitional point and other times I just feel stuck. I listen to people talk to me and feel like I can't trust what most of them say. I feel so lonely sometimes, but also like remaining alone is the only way to stay safe and sane. I feel full of ideas, but have no energy to enact most of them. I feel like I'm swimming upstream and the current is winning. And I'm so tired of it all. All the time, just so tired. I guess its all just the nature of the funk.

On the bright side, I don't think I actually do SMELL funky....maybe.

Catch you all on the flip side of Disney.

Hope.

Not always what its cracked up to be.

"Oh no! Not another one of those posts!!" they run screaming.

Yeah, what are yuh gonna do?

I've found that with Mr. Eyes, the thing that still kills me, day after day, is the hope. I'm sure there were times in the past when I would've written a post singing the virtues of hope. I even heard the Dalai Lama once say that hope was what gave us humanity, set us apart from animals. Hope. So....warming....so.....hopeful.

Its weird to feel so ambivalent about hope. One minute wanting to wish it away, the next minute wanting to cling to it like industrial velcro. But the thing with Mr. Eyes? I can't seem to turn off on him. It's never been that hard, especially when something really changed in a relationship, for me to turn off. There are things that could be done to make me turn back on again, to some extent, which explains all the reruns with N, but turning off has never been a problem. Enough anger could quickly disintegrate any love I had.

But I can't turn off on Mr. Eyes. Whether I avoid him. Whether we make attempts to be "friends". Whether we're having a completely pissy talk. I just can't turn off on him. And so I still hope that everything will change. And I hate that hope and wish it away all the time, but it just lies there in my heart, waiting.

He certainly doesn't help this situation. Constantly still talking about us when we're old and gray, and apparently, very, very funny. Or his general denial that anything has gone awry. (Though, thankfully, that seems to have quieted a little. Apparently it takes about a month for these things to sink into his head.) And he doesn't help by continually telling me that he loves me or giving me the infamous eyes. He just doesn't help.

And he doesn't help by changing what needs to be changed either. And so I just wait. I take comfort that I shouldn't take in hugs from him, but don't let him cross the threshold of my apartment. I sometimes don't see him at all in a day, and other days stay up way too late talking to him, feeling those same things I always have with him. And almost everynight, there is a moment when I'll close my eyes and imagine things to be right, but always curse myself for it when I have to open them to reality again.

Just what you were waiting for...Melodrama!

Oye. Here I am.

I've opened the blogger window several times in the past couple of weeks, and really should've written, but um. Well, you know. There's plenty to write, but many days I just don't have the umph to do it.

I'm pretty disappointed with life these days. And by pretty, I mean completely. I'm constantly envious of people who can fake it lately. And of people that can pretend themselves into happiness or truly find things to be happy with despite the neverending bullshit of life. I feel clueless and restless and empty and alone. These aren't really new for me, but it is a little bit rare for them all to converge at the same time.

There are several things that I could indulge in bitching about, but I'll just stick to the two that are constantly occupying me....

Little A seems to have come into a bit of a rough spot at school. She's come home crying nearly everyday for a week or so. Little A is just like me with her friends. She's not a herd kind of girl. She likes to have one or two very special close friends, and everyone else is just sort of out there.

So recently, the out there group has decided that they need to try to mess with Little A and her best buddy, and along with it try to make Little A seem totally uncool to her best buddy which pretty much involved everyone being little mother fucking 9 year old ass holes to her.
After a long talk with the buddy's mother, things have gotten slightly better. They are still very close, but I'm worried about how everything is going at school with the rest of the little ass holes.

Little A is very sensitive. You remember, the kid who cries over the loss of a tooth? Yeah, she drives me nuts sometimes with the things that she lets loose the tears for, but this? This was tearful territory and when I heard my beautiful, wonderfully sweet daughter say, " No one likes me and they're trying to make sure S won't like me anymore either"? When she sobbed it, I knew, that despite all those other tears about teeth and stuffed animals, and bedtime, I knew that my darling Little A's innocent little heart was breaking for the first time. And I knew that there was very little that I could do, this time, or all the other times that are to come. I know exactly how she feels. I was the perpetual new kid through my entire childhood and I know exactly that feeling and I know absolutely no way to save her from it. Because rationally, of course, I know I can't (and motherhood is oh-so-rational). And even if I could, it would probably turn her into some sort of freak-adult with no soul, but still. It kills me. It kills me that anyone doesn't see how wonderful she is and that knowing that they don't see it is making her doubt it. Wasn't I supposed to have a few more years until the low-self esteem adolescent kicked in? I'm glad she talks to me and I hope she always will, but this one has been really rough.

And the other...things with Mr. Eyes have pretty much fallen apart. He claims they haven't and still tries to push onward, but I know what happened inside of me, and it was some serious falling apart. Part of me wants to write about it, part of me feels like a melodramatic retard whenever I try to form it into words, so I'm left not really knowing what to say. I guess I'll just say that it was different from anything else I'd ever been in, the feeling was totally different. And I felt sure. Which was also totally different. Not sure that everything would work out, but sure of the feeling. And so on top of the huge disappointment in the situation, I just feel like I can't even trust myself to identify a real feeling...a real anything because if that wasn't it, the big *it* that I never would've claimed feeling before, well....either I'm a total moron, or *it* just doesn't exist. Either way, I'm not too thrilled right now. Because I miss *it*. It was an amazingly new feeling. Totally indescribable. And I miss him. On purpose, since I miss him by avoiding him, but I still miss him.

Sorry to be such a downer that I can't even leave you with an "On the bright side" sort of comment, but I'm just not on the bright side right now. Hope things are infinitely better with all of you.

Allllllmost Donnnnnne.

*Gasp for air*

This post was supposed to be my official "DONE!" post, but alas my advisor seems to see fit to torture me with one more revision. So even though I thought that at 6:30 last night when I finished my Microbiology final, I would feel this insane sense of freedom that I have not felt for years, nope. Not yet. It's a little anti-climatic. Don't' get me wrong, I am insanely happy to be done with that hellish class, but with that stupid paper still hanging. Ugh.

I had fully planned on being absolutely stupid this weekend. S-T-U-P-I-D. With nothing in my head. I still plan on being pretty stupid, but I may have to drink a little more to forget about that nagging paper. Ah well. Yuh gotta do what yuh gotta do.

I've been pretty pissed with work lately. And by pretty pissed, I mean that as soon as my boss leaves the office, I need to scream obscenities at the top of my lungs for a good five minutes before I can calm down. Have I mentioned that I REALLY hate my work. No, that's not true. I don't hate my work. I hate my mother-fucking ass hole of a boss. And if we had neighbors close by, all of them would know it.

Everything is lovely with Mr. Eyes. Except that he's away this weekend. I'm not really used to not seeing him on a daily basis, so its making me a little blue. But we won't get too dramatic about that one, ok?

How are all of you?

Greetings from an absent blogger

Hello! Howdy! I'm not dead!

I've been stupidly busy lately to the point where I even feel guilty knitting. Sad, sad statement there folks. And I bet you thought I'd have a much better post than this after a couple of weeks of silence, didn't you? Ha! Silly bloggers. But I just wanted to pop in and say...

I miss blogville. Hopefully I can get caught up this week and reconnect with all of you.

Random Friday

Wow, am I behind in blogging. Writing and reading. And even though my one thought as I went to sleep last night was "Don't forget the camera", I forgot it! I've had a great FO sitting un-pictured for two weeks now! ARGH! So instead of FOF, I present you with 10 stupid and/or random things from my week:

1. I'm still a little sick. Not crazy sick. Just coughing/congested enough to be constantly annoying. Everyone I know is also sick.

2. I'm sure #1 would not be so if I could get some normal sleep for a few nights.

3. My Thursday class is kicking my arse.

4. In talking with some folks on Valentine's Day, specifically men who claimed to LOVE Valentine's Day, I realized that Valentine's to men? Is really Guaranteed Sex Day. I further mortified said men by claiming that sleep....a good long cozy sleep is better than sex. L and I concluded that we would take Fall Back over Valentine's Day ANYtime, just for that one extra hour of blissful sleep. Fall Back is now a full-fledged holiday in our minds.

5. I got to "work" from home 2 days this week. Sweet!

6. I got to take out all my aggression on the solid ice encasing my car yesterday morning. (I believe my neighbors are concluding that I have some anger issues...especially since most of them have also seen me take a hammer to the washer and dryer coin slot more than once this week.)

7. My house is a mess and I need to change the kitty litter. Ick.

8. My sister is visiting this weekend and will probably arrive at my house even before I get home from work. No spastic last minute tidy for me.

9. I need new clothes.

10. Did you guys hear the "B Flat" story on NPR this morning? Very funny. Maybe the funniest thing I've ever heard on NPR. (Oh except for the day after the State of the Union, when a woman calling in remarked that it was nice to see a woman sitting behind the president...."With a hammer" slips in the host...Ira Flato maybe? Too funny. Did I say that out loud?) I tried to link to the B Flat thing, but I can't find it!

Phlegm

Did I ever tell you how I don't get sick?

Yeah, I'm sick. I've been sick for a few days now and its really pissing me off. I need someone to shoot me with a tranquilizer gun and write some notes to my boss and teachers and daughter so that I can get some rest. Ok?

Will try to post the FO later, but it might be Monday.

The eyes that look at me

I've sort of been mulling this post around for a long time, but its still not so firm. If it sucks as a I try to think it to words, I'm sorry, but it seems to be time. (Obligatory disclaimer...this post is not about Mr. Eyes, though he is present in some of it.)

About a week ago, I stumbled out into the laundry room with my pajamas (no, not sexy pajamas, more like your mother's pajamas gone yoga) as it was later than I usually let other humans see me. My mass of hair was down and I had a wool hat on. My mass of hair is never down. I like it, but well, there's too much of it for me to do anything other than get it out of my way when its down. So as I stumbled out, I ran into the guy that lives across the hall (old and harmless as far as I know) and Mr. Eyes. Old Neighbor does about 7 double takes before he says, "I've never you seen you with your hair down...."

"Like the big messy pile of blond of that it is?" I ask.

"No....like Marylin Monroe," he responds with all sincerity.

Marylin Monroe? Did I hear that correctly?? I would've been more able to beleive...uh...Marilyn Manson....Marylin, my first love's evil mother, though she has short dark hair. Anybody. I would've believed ANYONE more than that. It was one of those awkward moments that makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, when any compliment leaves me dumbfounded and self-deprecating. Even now, I feel the burning urge to make you understand that I, IN NO WAY, look like Marylin Monroe.

Later on, I tried to accept it for what it was. Wow, for a moment, some weirdo thought I looked like Marylin Monroe. There's a first. And probably a last.

The comment and my gut response to it has left my continually uncomfortable. And guess what? That uncomfort? MAKES ME EVEN MORE UNCOMFORTABLE. Man, life is really a bitch.

And, to make things even more weird, its not like its the only over the top protestation of my looks lately. N did it. Mr. Eyes does it. Even my yarn store friend does it. Using that dreaded "B" word.

Listen, I am not the "B" word. (Well, I am A "B" word, but that word we use freely on this blog.) I've spent the good part of 30 years making myself understand that I'm not a ghoul, that I am in fact, like Burt's drawings in Mary Poppins, better than a finger in your eye. It's a big step. But that it where it ends. We shall not venture in the the areas known as "B". I am comfortable being better than a finger in your eye. It makes me feel like my self-image is realistic and manageable. I don't want to be "B", I don't want to be chasing "B", I don't even want to consider "B" because it instantly makes me feel like I'm allowing objectification, of myself, of all women. It makes me queasy. It makes me remember the days, very clearly, when I felt horribly ugly, or at best, completely invisible to other people. I don't want to think about how I look, I don't want it to be of any concern.

But then I have to wonder, do I try to make my looks unimportant because I've spent most of my life feeling very sub-par in the "B" department? Am I just masquerading my self-loathing-concept as a virtuous lack of vanity?

I mean, let's be honest, YOU KNOW I get off on it. I KNOW I get off on it. People get off on being told they are the "B" word, just like the Pillsbury doughboy gets off on tubes of refrigerated dough....and that's some hard getting off. Even when you try not to, even when you don't want to, it still makes you smile.

I still look the basically the same as when I felt that I was worse than a finger in the eye. But when some people look at me, they see or say "B". And I'm stumped.

In an unrelated conversation, Mr. Eyes used the phrase, "I'll be your mirror." And all I could think was "Wow, wouldn't it be weird if my mirror was always telling me that I was beautiful."

My mirror certainly doesn't say that now. It's been trained. It says "Eh, you're better than a finger in the eye. Except for Wednesday when that festering cesspool you called a zit made you a whole lot worse than a finger in the eye."

But what if my mirror was trained to say the "B" word. I wonder who I would be then?

Would I be vain? Would I be self-assured? Would I be worried about getting old? Or would I still laugh in that mirror's face, knowing too well that the remnants of the ugly teenager lay inside? "B" will never stop making me queasy.

Okay

Thank you all for all of your comments, but I think I'm not going to post here about Mr. Eyes anymore. I know you're all trying to be immensely supportive, but I'm just feeling a little too lectured and its just not the kind of help I need right now. I'm feeling really bruised from N and this whole thing is really messing with me on a serious level. And I've got enough internal lecturing to last a lifetime. So thanks again for all your supportive comments, but I think I've gotta let this one go here.

Stay tuned for knitting.

How much fucking kindness can one person take?

I've been feeling a little lot fucked up lately. (Sorry for the "language", but beware, there is probably plenty more to come in the coming days.)

Mr. Eyes is getting to me.

Getting right through the walls of fears and morality and jealousy and pain with nothing more than constant and persistent kindness and tenderness. I repeat all the "stay-away", "keep your distance" mantras to myself over and over again, trying to strengthen those walls. And still everytime I see him they get broken down a little more. I try to turn every kind comment into something deceitful even if it seems to bleed with truth. I try to find ulterior motives for every movement, every look, every degree of warmth. I spend my days trying to strengthen those walls so that they might hold up for a few moments at night when he looks at me and insists that he loves me no matter how many times I tell him that he does not.

And I want to scream at him for chipping away at those stupid walls. Because I don't trust him...why would I? There's no where good for it to go....and so I rebuild those walls all day long. I say my mantras over and over. I put on the defense...the sarcasm....the exasperation and hope that they will convince someone...Maybe even me. Or at the very least, that they will spackle the walls back together.

But I don't trust those walls either. They've already proven their instability and, in the end, I know I don't want them there. I don't want to be a person who is baracaded by fear and suspicion and the past. I only keep them around because they seem to be the only things that protect me. At least a little. At least for now.

The times I miss high school

Are very few and far between. I went to three different high school's over the 4 years and was one pissed off teenager for the whole 4 years.

There *is* one thing that I miss though. I miss the days of having easy-going male friends. I have one, far away (so I see him like once every five years), but I wouldn't count any of the other men I know or see often as friends. Its probably my own fault for letting letters and emails fall through the cracks until all those friendships faded, and now? Male friends seem just problematic. New male friends always seem to have "motives" or they have other halves who think you have "motives".

I miss motive-less guy friends. I miss the ease of hanging out with a guy for hours without the worries of what the next unexpected movement will be. I miss being able to let down my guard, which I can never do now, not even for a moment. I miss being able to flirt, for the sole purpose of flirting and nothing more. I miss not having to censor everything I say so that it won't be confused as an invitation.

I miss trusting.

You silly omnivores...

I've noticed this strange, but consistent occurrence lately. When I tell people that I'm a vegetarian, they almost always then regale me of their favorite meaty recipe (think sirloin here) or the six different kinds of meat they had last night. Why? It doesn't bother me, but in all honesty, I've got nothing to add. So, I just sort of look at them with the only thought in my mind, "Really, is THIS what you need to tell a vegetarian? Do you realize I'm not going to have the same appreciation for your description of bloody rare steak as others might have?"

What is it? Defense? Meaty-confessional? Knee-jerk contrary conversation? Trying to out my hidden lust for meat?


**Mr. Eyes schwooped in to try to kiss me last night. It was unexpected movement so he made VERY brief contact before I flinched away. Eeck. Erck. Oye. So, I said to him, "Seriously, what would you do if you were me??" At which point he came toward me like a vulture. "No, no, no, not if you were me pretending to be YOU. No, if you were really ME." At which point he backed off.

I'm annoyed that he's making it so difficult to keep him in the benign friendly category.

**This part of the post is completely UNRELATED to meat, just in case you were wondering. REALLY, there was NO MEAT INVOLVED, thank you.

And the evening started out in such a normal way.

Until...

This is such a ridiculous story, and potentially long, but I'll try to keep it in check so that you don't fall asleep somewhere in the middle.

A few months ago...

the endless rotation of people in my building brought a new bunch to live in the apartment directly above me. This was REALLY welcome as the last couple included a guy who must've thought he was the next American Idol as I was woken up by him many, many times singing LOUDLY and HORRIBLY in the middle of the night.

I didn't have a clear handle on just who lived up there. There were several women who looked enough alike that I couldn't even figure out how many were there or who they were, a girl around Little A's age, and a guy. The guy, very quickly, started making eyes at me. N and I were still together though, so I largely ignored they guy and his eyes and pretended like he was just making neighbor eyes at me. Yuh know, those hot and heavy neighbor eyes.

About 6 weeks ago, N and I had a huge fight. And here's something you may not know, when I'm pissed, I smoke. Quite a lot. So, I was outside smoking, fuming about N, and Mr. Eyes and the dude who lives across the hall from him came out to smoke as well. I chit-chatted with them in a neighborly way and hung out there for a while. In the meantime, 2 things happened. Mr. Eyes told me I was beautiful (HA!) a couple of times and N's cousin came through. When N and I finally got through THAT fight, I told him I had spoken to those guys, but his cousin told him after that and made it out to be some crazy-cheateresk behavior (Don't even get me started on him...I'm sure there was just a BIT of projecting in that assessment...fucking cheater). So, then we had ANOTHER fight which basically revolved around me defending my right to stand on my own fucking stoop, no matter who else was there and N declaring that he didn't want me to ever talk to that guy again. Just to keep the peace around the holiday's, I generally avoided the guy, as best I could, but it was really pissing my off because, well, I'm just not that girl that you can say such crap to. Sooooo....

As you all know, about 2 weeks ago, N and I broke up again. Not over this. It's hard to say what it was over because it was really over everything. But he'd tell you that it was over a cat. I'd tell you that it was either because he doesn't understand the concept of sterilization or because he thought it was ok to borrow $1,000 from an ex-girlfriend who is still carrying a torch for him. So since then, I've run into Mr. Eyes several times, but very breifly. And since N's out of the picture, and because the guy sauntered into the laundry room without a shirt on, I gave myself the freedom to notice how incredibly cute he is. I'm telling you, drool-on-my-shoes beautiful. PUT YOUR FUCKING SHIRT ON!!! I decided that I would just appreciate him for the eye-candy that he is and that would be it.

It's hard to convey the weirdness of the next part of the story because the whole thing makes him sound like a scab, which he probably is, but because of this intensely boyish charm he has (that I honestly can't even describe to you), he pulled off this conversation without me slapping him. The info you need before this next part...Mr. Eyes is the father of the girl and one of the women who lives up there is his girlfriend and the girl's mother. For all intents and purposes, they are married, in my mind.

Last night, as I again smoked and fumed over N on my stoop, Mr. Eyes came home. He stopped on the stoop to smoke and talk. Along in the small talk, he mentioned that he had today off so I asked what he was going to with his day off.

Mr. Eyes: I don't know. I don't really know this city well, like where the clubs are...

V: Ha, well don't ask me. I'm not a party girl.

Mr. Eyes: Maybe a movie then.

V: Oh yeah, there's a movie theater...(chatter about the artsy fartsy-ness of the movie theater)

Mr. Eyes: So, you can go to the movies with me?

V: Uh, no. I don't think your girlfriend would really appreciate you going to the movies with another woman, do you?

Mr. Eyes: It could be a secret.

V: Oh no. No, no, no, no.

And from there, it just went on and on. As soon as I let on that I knew what he was proposing, he was pretty insistent. But I'm an aries, its a rare person that can break through MY stubborness insistence. I had many, many reasons, moral reasons, logistical reasons, personal reasons, jealousy reasons, you name it. And to be honest, he may not have known enough english to combat them all. I mean I had reasons flowing right out of my wazoo. And in the end, he looked mildly defeated, but not defeated enough to refrain from saying, "I hope tomorrow, you'll change your mind." To which I said, "Tomorrow? Hahaha!"

It was just so odd. So open. So honestly talking about something that only leads to a pile of lies and hurt. I mean, I've had my toes in these waters before, and its never been so open. Previously, its been more like "I'm going sexual-innuendo you into bed, so that when/if you refuse (or I get caught) I can pretend like I wasn't doing anything at all." Yuh know?

And despite myself and despite the fact that he's revealed himself to be a cheating pig, I like him. Not in the want-to-have-an-affair kind of way, but just in the flirtatious friendly neighbor/eye-candy way. And I don't foresee that stopping because while N and I were in our depths of nastiness and fighting, Mr. Eyes was always there to look at me with a kind, warm, open face. (And yes, oddly enough the face pointed toward my face, and not toward my breasts or ass.) That face was there when I needed to see a kind face more than anything and I'd be completely lying if I didn't say that I appreciated it.

Well I already tried this and blogger ate my post.

So you get the short version.

I'm still alive. And I'll post more soon.

Holiday highlights:

Little A loved her gifts...and I pulled off the Santa thing for one last time.

Yarn, yarn, and more yarn...in that order.

Holiday lowlights:

Little A barfing

Driving

Big blow-out with N. Recovery unlikely.

BLOGGER. Just because you ate my post.


I'm not in a bad mood, but it seems blogger is trying to put me in one so I'm going to get some work done before I go crazy!