2/25/2008 - Lost in Translation
Posted in Unspecified

***************************************************************

"Don't give me the wrong impression, by showing me warm expressions/Put me in the right direction."

~Stevie Wonder

 

Darrell Rasner is just fantastic to talk to. There's nothing I could ever include in a notebook of course, but it's fun to just stand at his locker and laugh my ass off. Today, he called Hoch an alcoholic and said he bets Hoch gets so drunk one night this week that he'll shit his pants at the bar (It really was funny, but I guess you had to be there).

 

Anyway, he's got this thing with Kei Igawa, his lockermate, who speaks no English. Every day now for the last few days, Ras will lean over to Kei and whisper something, and then Kei will run up to Hoch and say it. It's hysterical because Kei has no idea what he's saying, so he says it with a smile. Again, this is probably way funnier if you're in the room when it happens, but imagine Igawa running up to Hoch, bowing and smiling a big smile, then  saying something like, "Fuck you," and walking away.

 

Yesterday, he went up to Hoch, said "Write this down," and gave him the finger.

 

Today, it was, "Eat shit, dickhead."

 

I'm glad to know that everybody in camp is just as stupid as I am sometimes.

 

 

Quote of the Day:

 

ME: I made egg.

BOB: I got a dozen on deck.

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2/23/2008 - Scrabble, anyone?
Posted in Unspecified

**********************************

"I'm takin on anyone, with no discrepancy, I got the recipe to burn competition like kerosene/I leave 'em hooked like methamphetamines mixed with heroin, this verbal medicine has more hits than Excedrin."

~Luck-e

 

 

It's all a game to me now. The words are flowing freely off of my fingertips and it's time to play. My keyboard is like a giant Scrabble board, with unlimited letters. Let's take a look at the extraordinary words I've managed to slip into my simple little baseball stories over the last two weeks:

hubbub
salvo
kibosh
buena suerte
foundered
squib
en masse
adage
apex
lavish
falter
lucrative
corps
vie
stigma
refute


----------------------------------------

On the absolute opposite end of the spectrum sits the ridiculous, mindless banter that can really only arise when you're trapped in a tiny room next to someone for 10 hours a day:

----------------------------------------

 

ME: What exactly does someone like you <i>do</i> at the gym? Lift? Run? Prance?
BOB*: Only when I'm feeling dainty.
ME: (laughs)
BOB: It's part of the regimen.
ME: Saturday: Prance like a fairy, 10 reps. GO.

 

*************************

(After an hour-long conversation about how starving we are, and how we won't get to eat for a long, long time, "Turn the Beat Around" plays over the loudspeaker)

BOB: Man, I wish Gloria Estefan were here right now.
ME: Me too. I'd tell that bitch to get in the kitchen and make me a sammich.


*************************
(I walk up to Bob as he's trying to chat up a particularly attractive woman in the clubhouse)

BOB: Oh shit, I lost my traing of though. What have we been talking about for the last 5 minutes?
ME: Farts.
BOB: No, that was 10 minutes ago.
ME: The Price is Right.
BOB: No...
ME: Well, it's either farts or the Price is Right, 'cause that's all we've talked about since we got here an hour ago.
(Pretty lady walks away, laughing)
BOB: God, I hate you.


*********************************

BOB: That man doesn't even have a base tan. I'm not listening to him.

 

 

------------------

 

* - name changed for integrity's sake

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2/17/2008 - This feels like a vacation in Heaven
Posted in Unspecified

*********************************

"I like the feelin you're givin me/Just hold me baby and I'm in ecstasy. Oh I'll be workin from nine to five/To buy you things to keep you by my side. I never felt so in love before/Just promise baby, you'll love me forevermore."

~Michael Jackson

 

 

God, it's so beautiful here today. It smells like baseball. I don't think I can accurately explain this anomaly to anyone who hasn't experienced it before, but it is a positively thrilling sensation: The grass has just been cut. It's a steady 75 degrees with a breeze just strong enough to keep it from being uncomfortable in the sun. The sounds of the balls smacking into oiled leather pockets. The thud of a ball on the backstop pad as a hitter misses during bp. The sharp crack when he connects. The cheesy music on the loudspeakers. Red dirt on my shoes. No wonder I'm a miserable person without it. I have never been so in love with anything in my entire life.

 

I never want today to end, ever. I can sit in the pressbox and stare out at the field for hours. I wonder if the guys on the field know how lucky they are to have this, of all things, for a job. Do they ever take a moment to reflect on what an awesome thing it is they get to do for their paycheck? Or is it all old hat?

 

I love this game, I love this game, I love this game, I love this game. I want to write and write and write about baseball until my fingers fall off. I'm thrilled about tomorrow because not only does Andy Pettitte come back (which will mandate at least 3 different stories), Hank Steinbrenner supposedly is going to take the field with the team for the first time, which warrants another couple of stories. No more loafing around the clubhouse. Soooo much to do. Soooo many guys to talk to. Soooooooo much writing to do. Tomorrow will be a late, late day for work.

 

I'm already smiling about it.

 

Throwin' down

 

Skip sharing what he knows with Jorge

 

For all the aura and hype around the Yankees, it sure is spooky in the tunnel, no?

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2/15/2008 - Happy Spring Training!
Posted in Unspecified

**************************************

 "For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle(dove) is heard in our land."

~Song of Solomon 2:12

 

 

I don't know if it's due to the talk with my mother or the fact that baseball's finally returned to me after a long, long break, but I'm determined to try to begin to put a positive spin on everything. So instead of me wasting any time sharing with you about why my Valentine's Day was really just another day, let me tell you about all of the things I thought about yesterday that I'm absolutely thankful for:

 

* The sun was coming up over the buildings in downtown St. Pete as I drove to Tampa in the morning. It was a crisp, fall-ish morning, not a cloud in the sky, and the way the sun hit the ocean with such a bright glare made me happy to be alive and in a place where the sun shines all year round.

 

* I picked up my press pass for Spring Training, and it's universal, meaning I can go to any game anywhere, here or Arizona, for free this Spring.

 

* The lanyard for my Spring Training pass is Adidas. I *heart* Adidas, and have doubled my wardrobe with stuff since I started at Dick's. I like matching, from my shirt to my jacket to my shoes and now, my lanyard.

 

 

* I took a moment when I walked into the clubhouse to look around. Now more than ever, every time I walk into a locker room it could be my last and I'm not going to waste my appreciation. The 'NY' logo is everywhere, especially prominent in the middle of the floor. Everything is so sharp here, so professional. I know the stadium was only built in '96 so its history doesn't go back too far, but I'm seriously impressed with the aura this team presents. These aren't the Rays, they're the motherfucking Yankees. Babe Ruth. Roger Maris. Joe D. A bunch of other guys who weren't Ty Cobb. Tradition. Excellence. Championships. Dynasty. This is really cool.

 

* Building on that, the writers here are phenomenal. There's so much competition in the NY media, these guys are the best of the best, at the top of the food chain. And even though it's only for two weeks, my boss called me to cover them. I'm sure there were many other people in line, but I was the one he wanted. And you know what? These other guys don't intimidate me at all any more. There was a time when I first started writing that I panicked about everything I wrote. Was it perfect? Did I transcribe every quote correctly? Would the other writers read my story the next day and laugh, or have sympathy because I wasn't any good? Would I get torn apart in a fan blog somewhere? Now, it's all second nature. I read my story today and I think it turned out pretty well, especially since I haven't written at length since baseball left me in September.

 

* There I was, laughing with Mike Mussina (no, I'm not name-dropping, stay with me here), an amazing player who's pitched for 18 seasons and never had surgery on his arm -- way cool -- when I have a flashback:

 

It's 2001 and I'm a junior at MSU. I'm in my second semester at The State News, but still on the copy desk -- I still haven't written a single thing for sports just yet. My buddy Eric, who was also my editor at the time, knew I wanted to cover sports so he threw me what I'm sure he thought was a lob for my first-ever piece: Go to Breslin at 3p.m. and talk to women's basketball player Julie Pagel about her experiences on the Big Ten Foreign Tour. Come back, write me 4 inches (about 100 words -- very, very little).

 

I agree, do a bit of research on who this Julie Pagel person is, and hit the streets en route to the Bres. I'm fine, up until I get into the parking lot, and I'm so nervous I cannot physically force myself to open the Blazer door and get out to walk inside. OhmygodwhatinthehellwasIthinkingshesfamousandImnobodyandIhavenoideahowtointervieworwriteoranythingandnowImscrewedImsuchanidiotIwanttogohomescrewthis......and on and on and on it went until I actually made myself physically sick. Looking back, it was probably for the better since my only option at that point was to open the door or yak inside the truck, so at least the door worked its way open after all. After donating my lunch to the blacktop, I rose on wobbly knees and teetered up to the Bres to find Julie.

 

There she was, at the end of a long hallway. There was a camera guy there about my age, laughing with her about being drunk. Turns out, they're neighbors and were at the same party the night before. Great, I thought. He's got an inside track and I'm an idiot. Nevertheless, I finally conquered the hallway and introduced myself. Mission (partly) accomplished.

 

The camera guy went first, and then left her to me. I mumbled. I kicked at the court. I said, "Umm I don't know what to ask," about 40 times. I really, really wish I would have saved that tape because it'd be mounted on the wall somehow today. Thankfully for both my story and my journalistic aspirations, Julie was about the nicest person I've ever interviewed. She told me she knew I was nervous, and then she told me questions to ask her. It was a great interview, but because of her, not me.

 

Then I went back to the office and stared at a blank screen for about 40 minutes. I transcribed my quotes so that there was something on the screen. I panicked and called Shannon to the back room.

 

She actually wrote my lead. Oh, and then she asked me a few questions, completed my segueways and linked my quotes together with facts. In short, she wrote the article while I hyperventilated about meeting someone famous (Julie) and chewed my nails down to the cuticle.

 

I looked up in just enough time to see Mussina shooting me a funny look. "Sorry, I'm just hungry," I said, and smiled. He smiled back, and we kept on with our talk.

 

That was seven years ago, and some of these writers with whom I'm in daily competition have been writing longer than I've been alive. I can honestly say when I read some of their things that I could have written just as well, if not better. This writing thing is an amazing gift from God, and I'm sorry for not having realized it before now. I'm really, really good at what I do, and really, really passionate about it, and that remains a fact no matter how many newspapers/Web sites turn me down for job openings. Eventually, someone will be lucky enough to have me on their team. All I can do is keep trying.

 

Back to my flashback, I realize now that, even with the Yankees, I don't even recognize these guys as famous any more. To me, they're not, and it's actually funny to see thousands of people crowding into Legends on Friday morning to watch them work out when I actually get to talk to them, about anything I want, each and every day (more on this, with pictures, in Friday's entry).

 

Anyway, it's after 5 p.m. and there's so much more to be thankful for but I'm tired of writing for today and have a long drive ahead of me already. I'm extremely blessed to be where I am today, we'll just leave it at that. 

 

 

The view from my "office." :)

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2/12/2008 - Cry baby
Posted in Unspecified

If you're out there and you're reading this, I really, really need a friend right now. I am a strong, independant woman who's been doing it on her own for some time now, and I just don't have the strength to fight any more. All the praying and hoping and wishing and fighting over the last month hasn't helped, and today I got sent home from work because I couldn't stop crying and throwing up. It's 13 hours later and I still haven't stopped. It ranges from big, silent tears that pour down my face, to short hiccups to racking sobs and a twisted face with my eyes screwed tightly shut as I try to figure out what I've done so wrong in my life that I should ever have to feel this way.

 

I absolutely hate feeling weak and powerless and vulnerable and like my life is out of control. I hate crying and not being able to stop. I'm not a crier, I never have been. I try hard not to feel sorry for myself or the position I've put myself in, but it's hard to do when you're completely alone; too hard to handle any more. I need someone to hug me and tell me everything's going to be ok even though we both know it's not, at least not for a while. I need just one person to tell me that I mean something to them, and that what I'm going through will get better, and that I mean something to anyone, because I am at the end of my rope.

 

I'm sick of fighting.

I'm sick of pretending like I'm OK.

I'm sick of hoping things will get better for me.

 

I really can't do this any more.

 

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2/6/2008 - Price check, aisle 5
Posted in Unspecified

******************************************

"I could cry for the time I've wasted, but that's a waste of time and tears/And I know just what I'd change, if I went back in time somehow

But there's nothing I can do about it now."

~Willie Nelson

 

 

Work was a lot of fun today. I played with guns for the first half of the morning (I *heart* the Lodge! woot.), and manned the less-deadly, albeit no less fun, price gun the second half of the day. A lot of stuff looks a lot cleaner than it did when I started (and it's only been 2 days), and that makes me feel good.

 

To be honest, I was a little bit worried when I took this job because prior to this, with my part-time jobs anyway, I've never been held completely accountable for my actions. If I was told to do something I didn't want to do, I'd loaf around and waste time until I got to leave for the day, knowing that someone else would eventually do it because at $7 an hour, no one really paid me enough to care about my job.

 

But now I'm the only person in clothing, not just in charge but overall, in the whole store. If I put something back in the wrong place or don't do something, I'm going to have to move it to the right place later or get the task done at another time. I'm actually taking pride in what I do, and it's pretty cool. This is my store, these are my clothes and I take care of my pads and order, sign for and unpack my shipments. I'm scared to say I actually like what I do for the first time in a while (not counting baseball). It's almost like having my own personal closet at the store, and I'm free to add to it or subtract, redesign, markdown, etc.

 

I was really proud of the way the section I worked on looked when I left for the day. It was a lot of work -- 8 hours spent on a 20x20 section of floor, only about 5% of the total area of "my closet," but it's still progress and it makes me feel good.

 

In other news, Christian called last night and asked to use my laptop today while I was at work so he could type up his work notes. (Before you blame me for doing him any favors, if he doesn't turn in his notes, he doesn't get paid. If he doesn't get paid, he doesn't pay me anything on his loans.) I was supposed to drop it off this morning before work but I was running late so I just left my door unlocked.

 

We ran into each other at my apartment on my lunch break, and I was kind of surprised that he actually kissed me hello, sat on the couch and talked to me for about half an hour. Cel and his boys (Donny and Donald) were finally going back to their apartment after sleeping the last week on Luck-e's floor while their house was fumigated, and he wanted to know if he could take me to dinner after I got out. Cel was going to watch Jimmy and Maurice (Luck-e's boys) while we went out for a bit.

 

I was honestly neutral about the whole thing. Yes, it's nice to talk to another human being once in a while (Hova, however soothing and understanding, doesn't count...I think it's the fur), but I didn't really feel like spending any more time with anyone and leave myself to the possibility of all of a sudden actually caring what he'd done to me.

 

Either way, it was free food and an opportunity to go out for once, so I accepted.

 

I called him a little after 4 to see if he'd heard from Cel, and he hadn't. He said he'd call when he knew what was going on with dinner. At about 7 I got hungry because I'd been up all day and hadn't eaten lunch, so I made dinner (french onion soup, yum!) and laid down to take a nap. I woke up at 9 and saw he'd called, returned the call. Cel didn't show up so obviously we couldn't go. Didn't really matter to me either way, I'd already eaten and I was tired anyway from a long day at work. Besides, what was there to possibly talk about with this guy? He's said everything in his head over the last two weeks, and I just don't care enough anymore to retort.

 

What irritates me, and what always has, is the fact that he said he'd call me "after the boys got settled" (about 10). I didn't know whether this meant because he wanted me to come over for a little while or just to say hi to me, but the fact remains that he hasn't called.

 

It's a pet peeve of mine, and it drives me absolutely freaking crazy. I don't expect you to call me every hour on the hour, but how hard is it to actually do something you say you're going to? Don't tell me we have plans when we don't, don't tell me you'll call and then don't. In short, stop lying to me. It would've been just as easy to say, "Talk to you later," and leave it at that. I HATE being put on a timetable when it never, ever happens.

 

Yes, I'm a freak and I'm too picky. Is this really that big of a deal? Not at all. What bothers me is that this is something sooooo simple that I've brought up time and time again to him, and he's never made a conscious effort to change. So I gave up, and it never changes. There were things about me he didn't like and definitely went out of his way to tell me, and I at least made an effort to modify small things as to not irritate him.

 

It just stinks that he's the only guy who's ever treated me halfway decent, and that's why I'm still so attached. If I were a little smarter, or stronger, I'd have seen that a long time ago and been gone.

 

Ah well. Another one of life's little lessons, eh?

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2/4/2008 - Yum yum gimme some
Posted in Unspecified

*************************************

"It's been one week since you looked at me cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry...Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'"

~Barenaked Ladies

 

So I found a hobby -- sort of. I've been going crazy in the kitchen during the last two weeks; mostly because it takes up a lot of my time and I don't have to think about anything else while I'm doing it. I'm not hungry at all these days, most times I just have a taste and throw the rest away. Regardless, I've come up with an amazing new recipe for spaghetti sauce (with wine, yum!), enjoyed the old favorite cajun chicken pasta, cooked steak, salmon, tilapia, scallops and tonight I forayed into the Chinese food world for the first time, with General Tso's Chicken.

 

It's actually pretty good. I'm surprised, since I've never cooked with Chinese ingredients before so I didn't know how it would turn out. I had a whole plate full, and I might even save a bit to eat for tomorrow.

 

It's really hot in the house so I'm sitting naked with the air conditioning on. It doesn't matter, because there's no one here any more; there never is. Luck-e called last night to congratulate me on Plaxico's big catch in the Super Bowl. I didn't even watch the game, because I couldn't, because I thought we were going to watch it together and that didn't happen so I couldn't bring myself to feel bad all over again. But still, I pretended like I knew what he was talking about, and we talked for about 5 minutes before I let him go.

 

He said he'd call me today. It's 9:30 p.m. and he hasn't. I'm not surprised.

 

Guess he's discovered that his life was better off without me after all.

 

 

*************************************

"It's been one week since you looked at me cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry...Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'"

~Barenaked Ladies

 

So I found a hobby -- sort of. I've been going crazy in the kitchen during the last two weeks; mostly because it takes up a lot of my time and I don't have to think about anything else while I'm doing it. I'm not hungry at all these days, most times I just have a taste and throw the rest away. Regardless, I've come up with an amazing new recipe for spaghetti sauce (with wine, yum!), enjoyed the old favorite cajun chicken pasta, cooked steak, salmon, tilapia, scallops and tonight I forayed into the Chinese food world for the first time, with General Tso's Chicken.

 

It's actually pretty good. I'm surprised, since I've never cooked with Chinese ingredients before so I didn't know how it would turn out. I had a whole plate full, and I might even save a bit to eat for tomorrow.

 

It's really hot in the house so I'm sitting naked with the air conditioning on. It doesn't matter, because there's no one here any more; there never is. Luck-e called last night to congratulate me on Plaxico's big catch in the Super Bowl. I didn't even watch the game, because I couldn't, because I thought we were going to watch it together and that didn't happen so I couldn't bring myself to feel bad all over again. But still, I pretended like I knew what he was talking about, and we talked for about 5 minutes before I let him go.

 

He said he'd call me today. It's 9:30 p.m. and he hasn't. I'm not surprised.

 

Guess he's discovered that his life was better off without me after all.

 

###

 

 

Oh, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to post here. I got rid of my Internet about a month ago because I couldn't afford it, but still was able to swipe from the neighbors' wifi. They moved two days ago, and since then the Internet's been spotty at best. It looks like three other people in our 8-apartment unit have wifi, but one is password protected and I can't get onto the other two half the time, it keeps flickering on and off.

 

So if I don't post for a while, it's not because I'm dead or I've given up on writing, I either got lazy or can't get on the Internet.

 

It's really going to suck tomorrow, though, since I have another day off and nothing to do. I was planning on writing and surfing when I woke up (about 6 p.m.), but that doesn't look so promising any more.

 

God, what the hell has happened to my life? Three years ago if someone broke up with me I'd call any of about 30 dependable friends to go out to the bar and drink and laugh until it felt better. Now I'm like an old lady: no one to talk to, no one to visit, no one to go out with.

 

No fun any more. No smiling. Is this what growing up is all about?

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2/3/2008 - Apathy = bliss.
Posted in Unspecified

***************************************

"His fist is big, my gun's bigger/He'll find out when I pull the trigger."

~Miranda Lambert

 

 

Again with a good, solid, happy week, and then for no reason Luck-e decides to not answer his phone for the entire day on Saturday. I called four times between 8 a.m.-10:30 p.m., and he never answered once.

 

Of course, I was worried something had happened because I haven't done anything to "set him off" lately, so when he finally called at 3 o'clock today, he decides to tell me that we're not together, so I shouldn't expect to talk to him every day. Moreover, he's sick of having to "check in" with me once a day so that I know he's alive. We've never, ever had this problem before, and I didn't think it was too much to ask to talk to my boyfriend once a day. I don't need a full rundown of the day's activities, just a nice, "Hello," and that's all. Apparently that's become a big nuisance in his life. He said he wants to see how is life is without me to see if I'm worth staying with, and that he's fed up with "having" to talk to me every day.

 

To tell the honest to God truth, I'm not even really sad about it. I'm more stunned that someone who's depended on me, both emotionally and financially, for everything since March 23, 2007, could even have a pair big enough to say something like this to me. How about when you were in jail, Christian? Who bailed you out, knowing you only 3 weeks? What about when you got fired, evicted and had your phone turned off and your car impounded? Who paid for your car to get out of impound, opened her home to you, paid to turn on your phone again and then drove you to work for 3 weeks straight (TWICE a day, starting at 6:30 a.m.) until you got your restricted license (which I ALSO paid for)? Who loved you unconditionally through all of that and then to top it off, gave up her beautiful apartment to move to a dark, ugly apartment in a dead-end shithole town just to be with you and support you in your new job? Who stayed up all night to print out CDs and jewel cases (which I bought) so you had something nice to take home to your friends? Better yet, who fucking FOUND someone to do your logo?

 

Guess who: Me. And at the end of it all, who in the hell are you to tell me that you even need to consider the fact that your life would be better without me?

 

I'm shocked that he said that to me. Shocked, but not surprised, really. I mean, his car's out now (courtesty of me) and his room is furnished the way he wanted it (me, me, me), so what does he really need me for, anyway?

 

This is reminiscent of my relationship with Alain. You had to have known that was coming. Yup, the last two guys I've been with (coincidentally, the only two black men I've ever seriously dated) have had nothing when (or very, very shortly after) they met me, been a conjoined twin to me while they were pulling themselves back up on their feet and then when things started rolling their way, they realize they don't need me as much as they thought they did in the first place, and bounce.

 

Ain't it funny how it all goes down in the end? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

 

Well it's not going to happen again. I've always given my all in relationships, but not any more. For real, this is the last straw. And to think I actually BELIEVED this asshole when he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. When we went house-hunting online, and bought furniture because, "it can go in our house one day." Nope, all he ever wanted from me was someone to stand by him when things were bad.

 

He doesn't need a shoulder to lean on any more, so now he needs time to, "see what my life is like without you."

 

Just like with Alain, I've again gotten to the point where I've cried and cared enough, and now I have no emotion. I'm all cried out. The light switch has gone off, Christian LaNier Bell. This really is done.

 

I hope you're happy with your bed, Luck-e, because now that you've made it, you're going to have to lie in it. By the time you make that oh-so-important decision, I'll be long gone. I've already erased you from my phones, taken you off MySpace and catered my life around things that DON'T remind me of you. There's not much that doesn't right now to be honest, but I know from going through the exact same thing with Alain that the first month is the worst, and then I'll forget all about you and what we had and what we could've had, and move along to somebody who deserves what I have to offer, because you clearly don't appreciate me.

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1/29/2008 - I give up.
Posted in Unspecified

********************************

"I see a red door and I want it painted black/No colors any more I want them to turn black."

~Rolling Stones

 

 

I know that my New Year's resolution was to write in here every day, but I just haven't been able to bring myself to write anything in the last week or so. Don't get me wrong: I've thought about it, but every time I did I just got depressed. What's gone on in the last week is nothing that I want to look back on, either in a month or 20 years from now.

 

Christian and I broke up. I bet from my first week of entries that you probably saw that coming from a mile away, but I'm still incredibly hurt by it all. I really, truly don't know what to do, for the first time in my life. All of these things I've been writing about in here have been driving me crazy in my head and I sincerely wish that Luck-e was one of those people I could talk to, but I can't. He is absolutely a wonderful human being and a terrific boyfriend, but at the same time he's also someone I can't come to with any kind of personal problems that we're having -- whatsoever.

 

I should've known when his own mother and two of his sisters told me to be careful because, "Luck-e is one of those people just has to be right, no matter how wrong he is." I kind of thought since we'd been through to some difficult times before I met them that this may change into something that I could deal with, but it never has. Instead, I've learned to keep everything to myself, as much as I can.

 

Of course, this hasn't been easy at all, and that's what led to last weekend's mayhem. I'd been sitting on all of these ill feelings for quite some time now, and his blatant refusal to even acknowlege that we had a problem just set me off. I threw things, told him he was worthless and wasn't ever going to be anything in life, I even hit him after he said, "Why don't you just go suck some nigga's dick, that's what you do."

 

This is not, and has never been me. I just get so unbelievably frustrated dealing daily with someone who I absolutely cannot and will not listen to anything I say that may be even the least bit negative about him, that I just snapped. I've talked to a couple of my friends during the last week and shared the story of that night -- the whole story -- and each of them were completely shocked that I'd done something so terrible. Both of them said they couldn't believe I'd do something like that, and both of them commented that I'd never resembled anything close to a hostile, vengeful or angry person.

 

But what's done is done. So we obviously broke up, and I spent the next week throwing up, walking around the house with no lights, crying uncontrollably and staring off into space for hours at a time. I quit my job -- luckily I got an offer for another a couple of days later -- curled up with the cat and just waited for everything to stop hurting.

 

I'm not a very strong person when it comes to love; I never have been. I love blindly and unconditionally, and sacrifice so much that I usually have nothing when they decide they're back on their feet enough to leave me. The only reason I moved to this God-awful town was to be with him, the only thing I've ever known about this town was because of him: So why stay here and punish myself? I can't even go to the freaking gas station without being reminded of some silly, pointless conversation we had in the parking lot. If he wasn't going to forgive me, why should I torture myself every single day by being so close to him?

 

The hurt still hasn't stopped. Not even close. I enjoyed a brief respute due in no small terms to the wonderful folks at Dick's Sporting Goods, who not only offered me a supervisory position in their store, but a managerial position in Orlando. After several days of listening to how cold, punishing and hateful his voice sounded on the phone day after day, I started to think that maybe it was better for me to move to Orlando and get away from all the hurt.

 

Because all of our decisions, no matter how minor, go through each other first, I thought I'd still give him the benefit of asking his input, even though he never even asked me how my job interview went. His response to my job offer was, "Do what you need to do." That was all: No further conversation, just a complete subject change and moved on with his night. To me, that was a sign above all that he didn't really care. I knew he was still angry, but to not even offer any kind of feedback meant to me that this really was the end.

 

So I accepted the offer in Orlando. I figured this, at the very least, would be a way to be able to start over and try to forget all the hurt that being head-over-heels in love for the last 10 months had caused. On Friday, I told Luck-e my decision. His response was to launch into a 7-hour conversation detailing every feeling he's ever had about me and us. Seven freaking hours. It was crazy: Everything he'd never said to me and I'd been dying to hear. The fact that he was sorry he'd never listened. The fact that sometimes when he yelled at me, he was just scared about us because of how he'd been hurt before. The fact that he still did love me and didn't want me to move to Orlando.

 

We decided that at least we should hang out before I left, and since both of our schedules were so swamped over the next two weeks, we tentatively planned for Saturday. Now I honestly didn't know what to assume at this point, but figured it'd probably be something to the tune of him coming over and us talking, me crying hysterically, him staring at me with no emotion whatsoever, and then leaving.

 

Instead, he called early Saturday and asked if I wanted to go to the fair with he and Maurice. We had so much fun there; he won me a bear dressed like Michael Jordan, and a giant Scooby Doo stuffed animal. We ate fair food, watched a high-dive show and a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig race, laughed, joked and held hands. Once we dropped off Maurice at his dad's house, we came back to my house and sat. I still didn't think he was going to spend the weekend or even the night, and I even asked when he was leaving for Dre's house -- but he hadn't talked to Dre, and I wanted him with me so badly I didn't ask any more questions.

 

We went out to dinner that night -- he made a toast "to us," and then headed to Rasher's for a drink. One drink turned into five or six, talks about life, and dancing all over the bar together. We got home, I ran a bath and we sat in the jacuzzi and talked about life. Both dead tired we crawled naked into bed, made love and fell asleep in each other's arms. Sunday we hung around at home all day, made an amazing seafood dinner and cuddled in front of the fire all evening watching movies until we went to sleep. Things were more than perfect.

 

On Monday, I had to go to Dick's for some more training, and that's when I found out I could renege on the Orlando offer, and still take the lead position in Bradenton. Heartsick over the amazing weekend we'd just had, I knew I couldn't just walk out on him with things still up in the air. I knew I was a long way from being forgiven, but the weekend really gave me hope. How can you pretend to be so happy with someone you don't even want to be with?

 

I called Luck-e as soon as I left the office -- I hadn't even left the building yet because I thought he was so excited. Except he wasn't excited at all. It was more of an, "Oh, okay," and changed the subject once again. He still invited me over for dinner though, and so I figured at the very least we could talk about how to make things better.

 

You already know that didn't work. What should've been another evening and/or night spent being happy and loving each other's company turned into a long drawn-out conversation about why he still needed time to think about whether we could be together or not. Not overnight or anything, but months. The weekend just passed, he said, was spent being happy because he thought it was the last time we'd have together before I moved, and he didn't want to leave things on a bad note if he intended to visit me in Orlando every once in a while.

 

So wait, he was willing to drive alllll the way to Orlando on his weekends off, but he has to take months to decide whether he thinks we'll be good as a couple? Talk about a mindfuck.

 

His response to that was, "I knew I shouldn't have stayed the weekend with you." Nice.

 

So hey, I'm right back at Ground Zero, crying on the couch with the lights off and the cat in my lap, knowing things will never, ever get better between us because he's not willing to love me unconditionally like I do him. Yes, I've been hurt in the past but I'm focused on breaking down my walls, not building them up.

 

Worse yet, I can't go to Orlando and escape from all this because I've already changed my mind once and I don't want to seem fickle.

 

I'm never going to be happy, so I give up.

 

 

 

 

 

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1/19/2008 - Up, then right back down again
Posted in Unspecified

 

*************************************************

"Stupid boy, you can't fence that in/Stupid boy, it's like holding back the wind."

~Keith Urban

 

I had a really good day at work today; to balance it out, my personal life stunk. Isn't that the way it's been lately, though? I can't just have a good day all-around, there has to be something negative about the day that brings me down. I'm generally an optimisitc person (although you'd never get that from my blog), so I'm hopeful that the tides will soon again swing my way.

 

First and briefly, work. Today, my store manager called me a "great asset," which was a complete 180 from the talks of a week ago. My floor manager told me today that I, "carried the department." My home install sales, which have suffered horribly since I've started, have skyrocketed, especially this week. Before, my grand install total since I took the job was $200 tops. Today I sold $500, and the day before as well. Everyone is happy with work, and I'm thinking I may keep the job after all.

 

At least until something else pisses me off, anyway.

 

In other news, Christian and I spend less and less time together each day. Once he got back from Chicago, it was decided I'd still see him on my lunch breaks, and then come over after the boys are asleep and on the weekends when he lives with me. Nowadays I spend lunches alone because he's either sleeping, too busy or expecting visitors. I couldn't tell you the last time I've eaten either lunch or dinner over there which is shitty twice over because a) I have nowhere to go on my hour break now, and b) I have no money for groceries, which = no money to eat dinner at home.

 

Today sucked more than usual because he called right when I got out and told me to come over and help with dinner in "30 minutes." He said he'd call. Two hours later he hadn't called and wasn't answering his phone, so I went and knocked on the door to drop off the baking pan he needed. No one answered, so I collected my quarters and went to the gas station to buy bread to make a sandwich for my dinner. That's when he called, all pissy because he had a friend over and I shouldn't have been upset that he didn't answer the door. Then there was the, "well, I'll call you later." So I mentioned dinner, because well, I'm hungry as hell and sick of eating popcorn and Cheese-Its for my evening meals. He blew it off, and said goodbye.

 

Of course, it's after midnight now and he hasn't called.

 

The funny thing about him, as it's always been, is money. He borrowed $1500 from my dad to pay for his lawyer last year, and the last payment was due on the 15th. He was supposed to pay him $350 and since it's been such a HUGE deal so far (he's had an excuse every month), my dad told him to just give me the money and I'd send it off.

 

Of course, he hasn't done that. Three days ago when he got paid, I saw a money order for $300 sitting on the dresser. I asked him what it was for, and he said my dad. I asked why it was only $300, and his response was something about the lady printing up the wrong order the first time ($300 instead of $350), and him having two money orders. He's really, really touchy about this stuff so I didn't actually walk over and pick up the order, but when I talked to my dad later on that day, he said Christian asked if he could pay him $300 instead of $350. So he lied to me. Nice.

 

On top of that, he hasn't mentioned ANYTHING about my dad telling him to pay me directly. In fact, he talked to my dad BEFORE he got the money order, and then went and got it anyway. Seems like if he planned on doing what my dad asked him to do, he'd just have given me the cash because it clears faster in my account so that I can just send my dad's credit card company the money. So I casually brought it up the other day and again he blew me off like he had no idea he was supposed to give me the money instead of my dad.

 

Also what irritates me is that he told me last week that he was going to give me a $200 payment, the first of many to come for me paying $2050 to get his car out two weeks ago. His Drug Dealer Friend (hereafter referred to as DDF) lent him $500 and he said he was going to give me part of that. Of course, that didn't happen. Three or four days later, Luck-e said he thought he'd wait until he got paid on the 15th to give me the money, and the 15th has come and gone and he's got this detailed plan of how to use his money, and he has not yet brought up the fact that he said he'd give me $200. so I brought it up, and now he's saying he'll pay me on the first.

 

Except he seems to forget that I need that money to put on the credit card, which is due at the end of the month. I'm already short for the rent because he doesn't help me with anything any more, and also because he hasn't put anything but the first $100 on the bedroom set, so I'm stuck paying that as well. When Rent-A-Center calls at the end of the month, he ignores me when I bring it up until I tell him it's paid for.

 

Funny though, how he gets all upset when I tell him I can't afford to pay for the fucking stuff any more, and that I just want to call the store and have them come pick it up.

 

Oh, and he got his hair cut the day he got his check, except when he went to Wal-Mart to cash the check to give his barber money, they wouldn't cash it because it wasn't computer-generated, so we had to drive to my bank so he could borrow $40 from me. "Oh, I'll give it back to you as soon as I cash my check," he says, knowing that I don't even have money to buy fast food on my lunch break, and have been hoarding and counting change in order to get gas to drive to work.

 

Four days later, still no money. I asked him about it last night and he said he'd bring it over tomorrow (today) before I went to work in the morning. That didn't happen, of course. When he called this evening, I told him that a) I needed the $40 back to eat and b) I needed the money orders to send to my dad, and he said I would have them tonight.

 

12:30 a.m. now, and no phone call.

 

I kind of started this journal to air out my negative feelings without having to actually burden someone with my bitching. I thought it would alleviate some of the anger I have, mostly toward Luck-e, but seeing it all in writing now just makes me a little bit more mad. I try to put myself in one of my friend's shoes: If I were reading this about Shannon's boyfriend doing this to her, I'd kick her ass for being stupid enough to continually be taken advantage of while her nearly-30 boyfriend uses her again and again.

 

So why am I letting myself go through all of this? Part of me wishes things will get better. When we met, he paid for everything, bought me presents and wanted to spend time with me. Now, we had a conversation two months ago about, "I've spent all my extra money getting you back on track and now I need to focus on me." Yes, he really did say that. I'm not asking to be, nor have I ever particularly enjoyed, being spoiled, but is it too much to ask to have someone who occasionally pays for lunch, or occasionally helps out with an apartment he said from jump that he'd give me $200 a month for, or a furniture payment that he suggested we do "together?"

 

Apparently these days it's too much to ask for to even spend daylight hours with me, or pay me back what was borrowed.

 

Apparently, there's something more important to him nowadays than the situation he knowingly put his girlfriend in.

 

I wish I could point this out to him, but it would only cause yet another knock-down, drag-out argument, because Luck-e is never, ever wrong.

 

I'm the bad one here. Who am I to expect what was promised to me?

 

In short, I'm an idiot.

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1/16/2008 - Hungry
Posted in Unspecified

 

*********************************************

"Masturbation's lost its fun and I'm fucking lazy/I bite my lips and close my eyes, take me away to Paradise."

~Green Day

 

I'm bored out of my mind, sick of watching Law and Order re-runs and playing Wii, and have yet to eat dinner. I thought for sure I'd eat dinner at Christian's since he made a big spread and borrowed my crock pot but I didn't get an invite. I really have no one to feel sorry for but myself; I mean, if I could just get a real job, I wouldn't have to be hungry all the time. I just got up and looked in the pantry: There's nothing but hard raisins, a can of garbonzo beans and a quarter-full bag of some long-since-gone-stale cereal. The freezer? Salmon, which I have no idea how to cook, Christian's steak and two chicken fingers. Oh, and a popsicle. The fridge has two pans of food from two weeks ago I never bothered to Tupperware, a stick of butter, a tube of Go-Gurt from August and a lot of hot sauce packets from Taco Bell. How pathetic is that?

 

To eat today, I had a two-day-old donut, half of a Snickers bar and a mini-bag of Kettle Corn. I couldn't say the last time I've had a sandwich, or even bread. Yesterday I cooked my last pack of noodles and ate them cold and smothered in Italian dressing. One year ago today, I was making no less than $2,100 a week, and at the top of the world with hopes of moving to Pittsburgh and covering the Pirates. Ain't it funny how much can change in a year?

 

The upside to this is that I'm healthy -- which is great since I have no insurance. I'm breathing fairly well lately despite the fact that I'm back up to smoking a pack a day, for lack of better things to do.

 

My kitty, who has evolved into my best friend and closest confidante, remains by my side from the moment I walk through the door until I leave again. She's always happy to see me, and throws herself on the floor at my feet, meows, and rolls over on her back as soon as the door opens. When I sit on the couch, she plops down in my lap, purring happily and responding with cheerful chirps to each question I have about her day. When I lay down on the living room floor to sleep each night, she curls up in a tight ball under my chin, or stretches out to her fullest extention between my legs, and snores contentedly until it's time to get up in the morning.

 

And she knows when it's time, too. As soon as my alarm clock buzzes in the morning, she crawls up to my face and purrs until I open my eyes.

 

My little furry alarm clock. My Hova. My best friend.

 

My only friend these days.

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1/16/2008 - Flirting with happiness
Posted in Unspecified

*************************************************

" Sometimes you gotta suck it up, and bite down on the bullet, don't let nobody know/Wrap it up, walk it off, tough it out, dust off the dirt, sometimes you gotta play hurt."

~Heartland

 

I'm proud of myself -- two days in a row and I have yet to break my journal-writing resolution.

 

So work was...well, work today. I forced myself to enjoy the simple conversation I had with my customers and found the day flying by. I actually had the biggest sale of my career so far, so that lifted my spirits a little, even though it took more than 4 hours to complete: a 46" XBR television, surround sound system, speaker mounts, remote, power center, HDMI cable, a CD and a DVD/CD combo. I'm not really sure how I did it, except the people were really nice and reminded me of my mom and dad, so while the man was talking technical, I talked to the wife about life, and it was nice. I miss having a friend or two around to be able to chat with over drinks. I desperately miss college and all the fun I had being social and going out all the time. These post-college growing pains have lasted a LOT longer than I thought they would (going on 3 years??), but days like this make it a little more bearable.

 

Luck-e and I continue to get along, which is almost weird at this point. 16 days of no arguing, who'd have thought? It's definitely because we don't spend nearly as much time together as we did before the new year. I still get upset initially when he first tells me he doesn't want me to come over because he's smoking pot and playing Madden with his friends, but I hang up fast and stew for a second, and then I'm over it. I know it's stupid to be upset with him for having fun. It's my fault I don't have any friends to talk to or hang out with or ask over, so I really shouldn't be angry with him for trying to have a life, but it does suck to to have to be alone all the time after work until I go to bed, or go to his house to sleep. At least before I could go over for dinner and to hang out for a while, but we've decided now that Jimmy acts up in the evenings because I'm over there, so it's better if I wait until the boys are in bed for the night. The earliest this happens is 11 p.m., which isn't the best for me since I work at 8 every day, so most times I just end up walking in the door and hopping in the bed to sleep.

 

Maybe the real reason that we don't fight is because we really don't hang out any more. I don't know. I sure miss eating dinner at night though. It's stupid to rely on him to eat but with the bills climbing (electricity = nonexistent now), I can't really afford groceries. Every spare cent I have goes toward paying my rent, and putting gas into my car to get to work. It's much easier to go to their house and help him cook dinner and sit down as a family and eat together -- and not have to pay, because the boys get money for groceries from the government -- than try to make something here. Plus, it's not worth it to cook an actual dinner for just one person.

 

Sadly enough, I don't even clean any more because no one comes over. It's hard to have any pride in anything, or motivation to do anything, when it's just me. There's no point in scrubbing the floors or cleaning the mirrors or dusting anything when no one is here to make the house look nice for.

 

I do have some motivation, though. As far-fetched as it seems I really, really want to buy a house. Also, I've found the perfect one, about 30 miles southwest of here. It's absolutely phenomenal, in a great location and has everything I'd ever need. The price tag is amazing for what you get with the house, the only problem is the $30,000 downpayment I'd have to make. My parents offered to help me out with this, but it'd be near impossible to pay a mortgage AND my parents back at the same time. Besides, where are THEY going to get the money to help with? They've done plenty enough for me, I don't think it's right to have to expect that of them.

 

Then on the other hand, maybe we can just skip the wedding and use that money to put down on the home. A further tease is that it's been on the market for six months with nary a bite, so I'm sure there's some negotiating to be done with the market the way it is. Take a look at her, she's beautiful:

 

           

 

        

  

Anyway, I've long since resigned myself to the fact that if it was meant to me, it'll happen. I've fallen in and out of love with a million houses since I've been turned on to real estate, but this is the only one that seems remotely affordable. The only drawback is the less-than-adequate master bath, that rather resembles something from a hotel. Maybe because I've been spoiled with the gorgeous dual-sink, jacuzzi-tub, standup shower bathroom I have now, but the bathroom just isn't doing much for me. Other than that, I've hopelessly fallen for the backyard that, should we ever have any mutual friends, would be better than fantastic for evening barbecues.

 

So I hope and I dream, and I continue to apply for jobs, however hopeless it may seem, because you really never know. It seems the only way to make REAL money out here is by hustling or running your own business. That, too, is a gamble for obvious reasons.

 

Building on that, I took my English proficiency exam on Saturday. It was odd sitting at a desk in a classroom and listening to an instructor for the first time in three years. Odd but comfortable. I'm fairly certain I passed the analytical essay portion with flying colors, but the test itself was a whole different bag of tricks. It was nothing knowledge would aid and mostly geared toward, as I'd feared, those who are already teachers and not those wishing to become them, so I'm not positive I passed that at all. Our professor said it takes about a month to get the results so I'll wait anxiously, and hope that once I pass, I'll finally get my certification and be able to teach and coach, as has always been my 'Plan B' should baseball fall through.

 

Speaking of which, I'll welcome with open arms the drastic change in income I'll experience during Spring Training. I make less than $400 biweekly working 30 hours a week at Circuit City; I'll make close to $300 each day with the Yankees. $300x7=$2100x2=$4200, which of course >$400. I desperately need that money.

 

Part of me is fighting the impulse to buy the expensive system I've been eyeballing at work for the last three months (I get a great discount on it, incidentally, nearly 75%). Part of me says fuck it, that I always feel better when I'm shopping, and just to go ahead and blow the first stack on my new radio and dvd player. The other part of me is looking toward the future, and the house I'm so desperately coveting, and yet another part of me is dying to have some savings in an account for the first time since I moved down here. We'll see which emotion prevails in the end, but sooner or later I've got to grow up and become responsible and safe. Hey, no one can play Peter Pan forever.

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1/15/2008 -
Posted in Unspecified

 

*********************************************

"I leave from softball practice every night/It's getting dark, but the 'Golden Arches' light up the way."

~Barenaked Ladies

 

Moving along, my other resolve was to get myself a decent job and in doing so begin distancing myself from financial distress. This end of the resolve has not been going well so far. In the last 15 days I've been rejected by a Philadelphia newspaper, the San Diego Padres, the Tampa Bay Rays, the San Francisco Giants, the Kansas City Royals, the Detroit Tigers, the Tampa Tribune and sadly, my former employer, MLB.com.

 

That's not counting the bar down the road, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Wal-Mart, Starbucks and Books-A-Million. So thats, what? 13 businesses who said I'm not good enough? Bah. I try to play it tough and act like it's rolling off of my back like nothing, but c'mon! How much do I have to endure? I was only turned away three times by the rabbi, what's the deal with the fast food nation banding against me?

 

There's only so much rejection a young professional can handle, really. I guess I can understand the plethora of talent a major daily has to wade through in order to select one reporter. And I'm sure there are several hundred people both more talented and qualified for the job than myself, but Wendy's? For real? I highly doubt there are even a few college graduates breaking down their doors to work with rotten meat and greasy immigrants for $5.80 an hour, or whatever the hell minimum wage is these days.

 

So I've drastically reduced my daily job scouring routine online. To put it quite simply, I can't take much more rejection. Those sympathetic to my cause offer anecdotes of Abraham Lincoln, who failed dozens of times at just about everything from school to congress before he was elected president, and Stephen King, whose first manuscript was turned down 97 times before he found a publisher willing to take him on. The former was assassinated and the latter is a wacko who has nightmares of rabid dogs, killer fogs and bloody high school girls with telepathic powers, so neither of these offer me much comfort.

 

In order to combat this, I've been shopping excessively. Retail therapy, however small, always makes me feel better. Because of my ongoing financial crisis, however, all of this retail therapy has been window-shopping online. I must, must, MUST get the new brown edition of the coach tennis shoes. I'll die without them. Seriously. Every day I look them up online, fawn over their smart 'C' design and their soft chocolate-colored leather tongues, and then sigh and go on about my online business. I've even posted a picture of them as my computer wallpaper as a reminder of my recent, involuntary resolve to not spend money on crap that I really don't need. So what if those shoes would make me happy every time I put them on? I may not have a house for them to live in should I spend the outrageous $109 Coach demands for this little piece of sunshine. Maybe I'll use it as motivation to actually GET a job and GET money so I don't even have to limit myself to one pair. Maybe I'll get a pair in all three styles. One day. For now, I'm just going to whine about being a temporary have-not.

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1/15/2008 - Putting myself out there
Posted in Unspecified

 

*********************************************

"I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no waaaaaa-ay/Na-na why don't you get a job?"

~The Offspring

 

Moving along, my other resolve was to get myself a decent job and in doing so begin distancing myself from financial distress. This end of the resolve has not been going well so far. In the last 15 days I've been rejected by a Philadelphia newspaper, the San Diego Padres, the Tampa Bay Rays, the San Francisco Giants, the Kansas City Royals, the Detroit Tigers, the Tampa Tribune and sadly, my former employer, MLB.com.

 

That's not counting the bar down the road, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Wal-Mart, Starbucks and Books-A-Million. So thats, what? 13 businesses who said I'm not good enough? Bah. I try to play it tough and act like it's rolling off of my back like nothing, but c'mon! How much do I have to endure? I was only turned away three times by the rabbi, what's the deal with the fast food nation banding against me?

 

There's only so much rejection a young professional can handle, really. I guess I can understand the plethora of talent a major daily has to wade through in order to select one reporter. And I'm sure there are several hundred people both more talented and qualified for the job than myself, but Wendy's? For real? I highly doubt there are even a few college graduates breaking down their doors to work with rotten meat and greasy immigrants for $5.80 an hour, or whatever the hell minimum wage is these days.

 

In order to combat this, I've been shopping excessively. Retail therapy, however small, always makes me feel better. Because of my ongoing financial crisis, however, all of this retail therapy has been window-shopping online. I must, must, MUST get the new brown edition of the coach tennis shoes. I'll die without them. Seriously. Every day I look them up online, fawn over their smart 'C' design and their soft chocolate-colored leather tongues, and then sigh and go on about my online business. I've even posted a picture of them as my computer wallpaper as a reminder of my recent, involuntary resolve to not spend money on crap that I really don't need. So what if those shoes would make me happy every time I put them on? I may not have a house for them to live in should I spend the outrageous $109 Coach demands for this little piece of sunshine. Maybe I'll use it as motivation to actually GET a job and GET money so I don't even have to limit myself to one pair. Maybe I'll get a pair in all three styles. One day. For now, I'm just going to whine about being a temporary have-not.

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1/15/2008 - Letting it all out
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"Shout, shout, let it all out/These are the things I can do without."

~Tears for Fears

 

You know what else really grinds my gears? (ha.) Never having had a boyfriend to spoil me. Not saying that I would ever need nor tolerate this type of behavior (why waste your money on me?), but it'd be nice to finally date someone with their life together. I don't think that at the age of 26, that that's too much to ask. Luck-e was great for a while. In fact, the first three weeks I knew him, he paid for everything every time I went out, no matter what my level of protest was. Then he lost his job and moved in, and it was understandable that, while getting back on his feet, I could shoulder the burden. He never did really pay any rent money but an occasional $50 for this, or gas money for that, but still I thought eventually he'd get sick of me spending all of my money and try to contribute.

 

Except that hasn't happened. Don't get me wrong, I love him, but there are things he gets us both into that I'm stuck taking care of. This apartment, for example. When we came down to look at places to stay and stopped here, I was none too impressed with the one-bedroom layout: small living room, tiny bathroom and kitchen, etc. Except for the fact that it was cheap -- $710 compared to the $895 I'm currently paying -- there wasn't much good about it, especially after the palace I lived in in Clearwater for the last two years. We looked at the two-bed just for grinnies and, although it still wasn't up to Cameron Lakes standards, the jacuzzi tub and open floorplan made it livable. Except for the fact, you know, that it's nearly $200 more a month. Luck-e combated this by offering to pay the difference each month. His reasoning for this was that because he lives at my place 10 days each month, he feels responsible for helping out somehow. So we took the larger apartment.

 

Except at the end of every month for the first two months, he asked me to tell him if I needed money at the end of the month. That wasn't the deal. I feel uncomfortable asking people for anything, and to tell the truth at that point, I didn't "need" the money (meaning I could just make due without extra). So for the first two months, I had to beg for that money a) he told me he'd give me and b) I feel inside that he owes me because he lives at my house 1/3 of the time. I'm not a petty person; I'm not going to break down all of my bills into thirds and hand him an invoice each month but shit, I'm in a larger apartment because you said you'd help me out. If you didn't mean it, I would've found something more Dawn price-friendly.

 

After the first two months, Luck-e had a breakdown and said he could never get himself out of debt if he was always having to "help me out." If by "helping me out" you meant giving me money in exchange for running up the electricity bill by sitting in the jacuzzi with the faucet running for a couple of hours every night, eating all my food, driving my car whenever you want and never putting any gas in it, and having a "free" place to stay on the weekends since you can't stay at your place.

 

Then came the bedroom furniture which, unfortunately for me and my bills, happened about a week after I signed my new apartment lease. We were out looking for a second-hand dresser for my bedroom since my new closet was too small and I hadn't had a dresser since I came to Florida, and ended up at Rent-A-Center next to a furniture store we'd just walked out of. There was a BEAUTIFUL bedroom set (head and footboard, two bedside tables, an upright dresser and long dresser with full, gorgeous mirror, and it was incredibly affordable. At this point in time I was hesitant to take on another bill, but Luck-e again reassured me that he'd help out with this payment. He paid the first $100, and I've had to make every payment since, for the last six months.

 

It's amazing what a wet blanket I've become. I catch myself complaining to coworkers about my life and I have to take a step back mentally and shake myself. Is my life really so bad that I have to whine and bitch about it to someone else? No one - absolutely no one - cares to hear anyone whine about their circumstances. Mostly because they've always been, or are currently going through, something way worse. Sometimes it's because they're doing a fair job of pretending their own lives don't completely suck, and it gets more and more difficult when you have a whiner around.

 

So thank you, journal, for allowing me to let out my pettiness here in private, so that I don't let it overtake my life.

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1/15/2008 - New beginnings
Posted in Unspecified

 

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"New beginnings, new tomorrows/Night will soon become morning again..."

~6th grade play

 

I thought a lot about my new year over the holidays. What I wanted, what I expected, what I’d do in order to achieve both. Life has been anything but easy over the last year, and it seems lately that there’s little I can do to stop the progression down the slippery slope of inequity.

 

I’ve never been big on New Year’s Eve meaning anything other than a drunken night, but this year I put a little more thought into what the holiday signifies. My boyfriend Christian (a.k.a. Luck-e) puts a lot of weight into the jump to a new calendar each year. He says the slate is wiped clean and the future year is in the respective individual’s hands to make or break.

 

So here I am. New blog. New year. New me? It’s much too early to tell. One of my resolutions was to keep a daily journal, however inane, to record the way my life has been going. Maybe one day I’ll be able to look back on this journal and laugh, and attribute all of this mess to growing pains. One day, hopefully. It sure doesn’t feel like it right now.

 

My other immediate resolution was to not jump down Luck-e’s throat every time he’s inconsiderate, or forgetful, or just plain does something I don’t like. As an only child, I like to get my way. Hell, I’ve ALWAYS gotten my way. I’m spoiled, and I know it. The biggest thing I’ve learned in my most recent relationship is that not only can I not have my way all of the time, Christian’s used to a) either having girlfriends who don’t really care or b) being alone altogether, so now things rarely go the way I’d like.

 

Not to say I haven’t tried. When he says he’s going to call at a certain time and doesn’t, for example, I’ll wait an hour past the time and then call to ask him what’s going on. I’ve learned both to accept and work around, rather graciously I think, “black time.” If he says 6, it’s going to be 7 or 7:30. If he says he’s walking out of the house to come get me (we live across the parking lot from each other, about 55 feet apart, by the way), he’ll be anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours.

 

It’s those other times though, that he makes plans and then changes them without telling me, or invites me over and then decides to have Blue (neighbor) over to play Maddon and tells me to wait at home, that I try to point out that he’s doing me wrong by at least not having the courtesy to let me know ahead of time.

 

Of course, this never goes over well. Nearly every single time we’ve had these types of conversations in the past it’s turned into a knock-down, drag-out fight where we’re both screaming at each other and don’t talk for a few days.

After 10 months of togetherness, it’s pretty obvious that both of us are sick and tired of these conversations. He’s sick of having horrible verbal discourse with me, and I’m sick of having to tell him why what he does hurts my feelings.

 

So, for my New Year’s resolution, I gave up. Sounds funny, doesn’t it? Who resolves to give up? But on my elemental plane, it all makes sense. As long as I just shut my mouth, we don’t argue.

 

I honestly thought that this would last about two days but so far, so good. It’s been 15 days now that we haven’t had a single argument, 8 days longer than any time period before my resolution to give up, and things are fine. Sure, I’m still hurt when he doesn’t call or I plan on doing something because he says so and then he backs out, but it really does zap soooo much less energy to just shut my mouth and deal with it internally than have to have an angry phone (or text message) conversation, hang up and sit at home alone the rest of the night stewing about what a bastard my boyfriend is.

An outsider may think I’m setting myself up to be the martyr as always, but really I’m just trying to emotionally disconnect myself from this whole thing.

 

When this has happened before, I’d be hurt and upset and sad and emotional for a day or two afterward. Now, I dismiss the diss nearly as soon as it occurs, and am able to move on with my life. Eventually, I believe it will either get to a point where it won’t matter if we break up and therefore not hurt me, or he’ll realize that the reason we’re getting along so well is because I have stopped trying to make him care as much about me as I do him, and decide to pay me a little more mind.

 

Either way, for now, he’s happy and that in turn makes me happy.

 

So here’s to a new year filled with me trying harder not to be overattached to my guy, and me writing in here every day. Past that, the next year is a blank canvas.

 

Cheers.

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