Monday, January 28th 2008 at 8:35am

Today is going to suck. I don’t think schools are going to let Jasmine, Ashley and I in to
post up flyers.

Monday, January 28th 2008 at 8:00pm

Today has been exhausting. Schools let us in, except for one. Some took the flyers but
said they had to be “reviewed” by the principle, meaning they likely won’t get put up. At some
schools we were able to hand them out.

Nobody showed up at the first meeting however. Not surprising in the least,
though disappointing. Everybody I know is going to be there tomorrow, so it’ll at least look like
something. Problem is, we have these arcade games coming in Thursday, and if we don’t have
anybody to use them, we’re going to be in deep shit.

The really uncool part (just as the tarot cards predicted) is that my birthday is
Wednesday. I can expect to not expect anything for that. I might take the day off at most.
My boyfriend’s ‘present’ to me was probably that he drove me to the Hyatt’s out in Clarence yesterday.
(Only yesterday? Whew, getting up so early makes the day seem last forever...) I bought new
markers to replace the colors that I’ve used up, and I bought a huge sketch pad, two paint
brushes, white paint... And... I guess that was everything. I considered buying some of the nifty
paper-stuff for my scrap-booking but I decided not to because I knew we were headed to
Wegmans afterwards. I spent sixty dollars on groceries since Mom refuses to buy the amount of
organic snack food I’d prefer to have around. Not that I spent all of that on snacks... Though I
guess you could count granola as a snack too and that would cover everything but the orange
juice.

I’m exhausted. I’m not used to this. I’m so warm and I’m afraid it might be a
fever. I have to remember this is my prime time of the year for getting sick...

I ran into Harry today (from fourth and fifth grade at Waldorf) while I was inside
City Honors. I gave him a ‘promoters packet’ so hopefully he promotes. Heh.

Wow, I’m so out of it and tired that I’m becoming very random and un-fluent. I
don’t like that. I shall now sleep or read or both.

Wednesday, January 30th 2008 at 1:36pm

I feel an odd sort of nothing about the fact that today is my nineteenth birthday. My boyfriend is at work. The snow blows in an endless-seeming wind storm. I’m wearing the pink fluffy pants and soft, tall, pink socks my mother bought me for Christmas, the pink sleeveless shirt I bought on the road-trip with Dad that says ‘Rock’ on it, with a hoddie I’ve had since the early part of High School, also pink with a thick, horizontal white stripe.

It’s a comfortable temperature. I had a good conversation with My boyfriend this
morning. The phone alarm went off at 11:00am, fifteen minutes earlier than last week, fifteen minutes earlier than the week before that. We started at 11:30am, and even that was hard. Waking up at eleven today seemed natural. I used the bathroom, and stayed awake. Contemplating forcing myself back to sleep, until My boyfriend and I wound up lost in discussion about relationships, people, our pasts, ourselves and the way things have changed and continue to change.

He tells me that the book I’ve told him he must read before we wed (Parachutes
and Kisses by Erica Gong) is doing him good. It is helping him see where he’s been immature and unreasonable. He says that he understands now that Travanti and Jeremy have made me who I am. They, much like my parents, made me the person he loves and wants to be with. So why scorn me when I recount my past experiences?

To hear him say those things is soothing. To hear him say that my stories of
Jeremy have helped him realize how futile his resistence is. I resisted too. I wanted to flirt, I wanted to fuck, I wanted to act like a slut. I wanted to ruin my reputation even worse than it already was. I desperately fought for my right to seem like I had no self-respect, to present myself in such a way that no one would respect me. And Jeremy tried to break me of that every step of the way, and for him and my love for him, I tried. I tried, and I tried, and I failed
miserably. And by the time I was finally ready, Jeremy couldn’t trust me anymore, so he broke up with me.

I’ve told this story to My boyfriend countless times. He drinks, he tries to quit,
promises to quit, and then does it again. He’ll get through a couple weeks, and then be back at it. He’ll call me the next day with promises, excuses, and swears he knows he’s done wrong. He’ll be brought close to tears, he’ll rub me, talk to me, soothe me, as a way to soothe his own ache at knowing he’s failing. I understand. I was there too. I was fourteen, and he is twenty-five, but it
makes no difference. When he was ten he could out-draw me at nineteen. When he was seven he was having sex already, and I was just born. (Maybe you, my reader, finally begin to see why I insist that My boyfriend is perfect for me. That we are one.)

He had a long and serious relationship with Brianna, but apparently she never
acted like his wife. They never truly lived together. He became attached while she detached herself. He’s still been in the state of mind that people’s pasts are erased by a new relationship, the ‘first and only love’ concept on innocence. Beautiful, but fleeting and dangerous. This morning he told me things that we like little presents by themselves. One of them being that he acquiesced (again) to marrying me in April of 2009. He’s been saying, “don’t you want to wait until you’re twenty-one?” He’s afraid that I’ll change my mind. I won’t. But then again, I can’t say that any more than anybody ever can, because things always change.

Another favorite thing he said to me this morning; “You told me I wasn’t
changing and I was like, no, no, NO, I have to be changing, I have to evolve and learn!” He told me, “I could go out an party, but that’s not going to help me, that’s not really going to have benefit. I should come home.” It brings me peace. I love that he is mine. I love that I’ve found him, or rather, that we’ve found each other. He says to me frequently, “I’m so happy that I have you,” and I agree fervently, “I’m happy you have me too!”

He believes me now. He understands me now. He believes and understands what I meant, and that I meant it when I told him a mere few weeks after we met... “The ball is in your court now,” I said. “Do you have to be so cryptic?” He said in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should, but I can’t help it. This is more control that I should give you, but it’s too late now. And to think a mere month ago I never wanted to give this to anybody after again. Not after what Tre
did.” He didn’t understand or believe then. Only now does he really see how much his actions effect me.

This morning I asked him, “How long did it take you to become the artist you are today?”

He answered, “Twenty years.”

Indeed, it did. His entire life. His sole goal. I said, “I’ve been aiming to be the
perfect girlfriend, the perfect wife, the perfect mother since I was born. When I was a young child I gave up sucking my thumb under my mother’s threat that no husband want’s a wife with crocked teeth and a thumb-sucking habit.”

Make-up, high-heels, and an incurable thirst for sex at nine? It had everything to do with wanting to be the woman of my own house-hold. I said to him, “At fourteen I moved in with my first love. I was a essentially a wife at fourteen, and what were you doing at fourteen?”

“Drawing,” he answered. I chuckled. He made my point perfectly with that
answer.

“That’s why I’m so forgiving,” I said. “I know this is new for you. And you have
no idea how happy you’ve made me these past few weeks.”

He’s blown off all the parties, including Sam’s party. He doesn’t answer the
phone half the time when El calls. He draws beside me, writes in his journal beside me, reads the book I told him he had to read. He eats and watches TV beside me. He 3D models on Maya, and he’s taught me everything he knows about computer modeling now, and now I’m learning the program further on my own. He’s helped me reboot my computer so that it runs smoother. He
went to the art store (Hyatts) on Sunday. (The one in Clarence since the one in Buffalo is closed on Sunday.) He’s been giving me forty-percent of his paycheck. He’s been listening to me, and really responding to what I’ve said, instead of throwing guesses at me. He’s been expanding his mind. He’s played Race for the Galaxy twice now with my mother and my dad.

If things remain this way, I can see us together forever without a doubt. This is
what I always wanted with a man. The wind howls today, the slow falls today, the sky is white, my room is dim, I’m using word-perfect 8 instead of 12 because I have yet to find a way to reinstall it thus far, and tomorrow I’m spending the day recruiting for the Social Club. Going to DaVinci HS, going to Spot Coffee downtown, having a third meeting at 6:00pm at our location. Friday we’re going to the Boulevard mall and to Kenmore Lanes Boweling at midnight.
Saturday we’re going to the Galleria mall. (Jasmine, Laura, Tina and I.) And yet, and yet, and yet... My heart still sings when I think of My boyfriend.

This is how love should be. This is a real relationship. Arguments should be
settled and resolved calmly. Each should bend to the other’s will. Each should adapt fully as they are capable. Each needs to be understanding, forgiving, and loving, always. Romantics should never stop. Being goofy and ‘cute’ should never stop. Affection and sex should never stop unless physically unable, and that’s where forgiveness and understanding come back into play, and adaptation comes back as well. Nourishing love is possible. Love is drama. Love is
life.

I just want a healthy body and relationship. Too much to ask?

Saturday, January 26th 2008 at 10:05pm

I keep thinking that I’ve got things under control only to find out that I’m even more lost than
before. With My boyfriend, career, and parents, and food, and everything. Let’s start with the food,
since that is really bothering me lately.

How come there is something wrong with me because I care about the health of my body? I’m really sick and tired of people looking at me sideways because I turn down soda, deserts, most snacks, and other assorted unhealthy items containing High Fructose Corn Syrup, Aspartame, Hydrogenated ‘Vegetable’ Oils, Splenda, etc. How does that make me an idiot? Not that anyone has called me an idiot because of it, but a great number of people treat me like one.

Someone said to me recently, “You only live once” in defense of drinking soda! I wanted to reach out and smack them. Instead I mumbled, exactly. You only live once. So why not live it the best you can? Why not eat the best foods you can so you can have the healthiest body that you can? What person in there right mind can talk so proudly about all the junk they eat? Apparently a lot of people can. Are they also proud of what will happen to them? Hair loss before they’re forty, maybe before they’re thirty. Intestinal holes also know as leaky gut, or irritable bowel syndrom. Nasal drip year round. Random diarrhea and constatation. Damaged immune system that can’t properly fight off minor colds. Possible brain damage. Bone loss from lack of calcium (and magnesium) combined with too much sugar intake. Sticking insulin needles in your arm every day. And the list goes on and on and on... (But don’t take my word for it, read any body by Dr. Mark Hyman.)

And you what occurred to me yesterday? What happens when I don’t want my kids eating toxins either? (When I put them on a 100% whole-food diet containing only a spattering of organic snacks.) What happens when I’m out and about with them and they’re offered desserts at a young age and I say no? I’m going to look like the bad parent. Not that I would sacrifice my child’s health to look good, but it’s still going to sting like hell to be looked down upon for doing the right thing. I want to cry every time I see a parent give their child candy. I want to scream at them “WHY ARE YOU KILLING YOUR CHILD!?!?” I want to do a lot of things that I can’t do. Even reasonably explaining everything in a mild manner in a friendly way still makes people look at me in disdain.

I understand no one wants to be lectured, but I’m not trying to lecture, I’m trying
to help, to no avail. My boyfriend, after over a year of being with me is only really beginning to see
that food does indeed affect your mood and your health (dramatically.) He might still be losing
his hair if I didn’t point out that it is a direct result of something in his diet. We discovered that
Chinese food and alcohol seem to be directly related to his hair becoming dry and brittle. Tina
believes me, but it doesn’t mean she’s going to do anything about it. And Mom, the person who
taught me to care so much about what I eat, won’t even give up her chocolate. It brings tears to
my eyes to think about it. Why doesn’t anybody care? Why is everyone content to kill
themselves slowly and painfully? Why don’t anarchists even care that they’re doing exactly what the government wants them to do? It makes me feel so alone.

After the fire my parents seemed to bond (after some struggle) in such a way that I
thought things would be different. Especially after Mary moved in and proved to be an excellent
mediator. The arguments practically stopped for a while. Now it seems like most of that
progress had backpedaled. It seems to me like Mary is often part of the argument.

When everyone thought I was pregnant there was talk of my Dad leaving. That’s
just not the sort of thing I ever want to hear, especially not when I believed I had a baby on the
way. I don’t understand how they can be together for twenty-some years, (much longer than I’ve been alive) and not find a way to resolve their disagreements. How can people so smart eat junk, argue bull-shit, and live in this constant-construction.

A pipe in the basement burst today. Mom says it’s because someone turned down
the water volume in the basement, which makes the water hotter, and therefore it burst the plastic pipe. Neither My boyfriend and I know how to do it, and I’d wager that Mary doesn’t know how either. So that leaves Dad, who of course says he hasn’t been down there in months. So who
knows what really happened.

As if we were not having enough plumbing problems with the shower. Mom has
taken apart the entire bathroom in an attempt to fix the whole thing, and to string an extra line of pipes up here so I’d have cold and hot water. (What a miracle that would be!) But it’s been
underway for over a week now, and everyone in the house is really wishing they could have a
bath, especially since it had been nearly a week when she started this project since I’d had a bath to begin with. (Seriously guys, in the winter when I barely sweat it takes me over a week to start to smell like anything at all. My feet don’t even smell in the summer time. But this really is
pushing it.)

My boyfriend and Dad however are men and men have balls, and balls stink after one
day without washing. My boyfriend has made attempts at washing up in the sink, but of course it’s
really not the same. I’ve made my attempts too, and used an awful lot of baby wipes. For my
Mom however, this is a whole other ordeal beyond using lots of wipes. She’s spending all time
that she can possibly muster working on it and having one problem after another. At this rate it
won’t be done until well into February.

I suppose I could take a bath at the location the Social Club is holding it’s
meetings (the first meeting is Monday) but that would be a little awkward. I really hate using
other people’s baths or showers. It’s hard to find the right temperature, and to keep it there, and it’s hard to get comfortable, and hard not to feel like you’re being rushed.

The Social Club is moving along more or less as expected. Jasmine and Laura and Tina are helping me just about all that they each can. I really hope there is a good turn-out
on Monday, otherwise I might look really stupid. Well, I suppose Laura, Chris, the two girls
Laura is supposed to bring and Tina will look like something. Presumably Nina (if one can ever
contact her) will be there, and she’ll bring at least a couple people. Jasmine will be at the
Tuesday meeting. So that is running it’s course at the moment, despite all of it’s hang-ups.

My boyfriend however, had an argument with me over the phone just a little while ago however. He wants to go out tonight. Him going out tonight I see as the beginning to everything just fucking up all over again. I’m not exactly sure that I’m doing this right, still. He seems to think I threatened to break up with him if he goes out tonight. That’s not at all what I meant. I was trying to say that I felt that him going out means that he’s never going to commit to me, which means break-up will come closer to being inevitable.

That thought is painful.

To Move, or Not To Move?

Wednesday the 19th of January, 2008.

It is 8:41pm at the moment.

Arrin is now my advisor for creating my Social Club. I’m so excited. I’ve spent the last hour messaging local teens on myspace. I’ve got Tina, Jasmine, Laura and Chris (Laura’s new boyfriend) on board. This should be an interested experience.

Today Laura & Chris and Tina came over. We played ‘Race for the Galaxy’ together, which was fun. I had to teach the three of them to play. Mom and I learned how to play from Asa last night, and we played two rounds. Then after picking My boyfriend up, mom and I taught My boyfriend how to play.

I’m so pleased with how everything is going. Jasmine and Tina are probably coming over again Tuesday. (Jasmine came over Thursday.) I’ve never had so many people over so often like these past few days, but they’re all going to help me promote the Social Club. I gave Tina two packets, one to give to her younger sister, and one to give to Jodi. (At least I think she said Jodi was the girl who is still in High School who might want to promote.) Jasmine says she already has like thirty people’s names down.

So far, it’s looking good. In other related news, tomorrow, Tina, My boyfriend and I are going to go look at Arrin’s house, where Tim is still living. Scott was kicked out because he (aparently) is a dirty thief. Saundra is no longer in the picture whatsoever because she wanted to devote her time to schooling. Tim has an apartment in the house on the second floor. A young woman will security money of some sort coming it, (her name might be Mara but I can’t remember) is taking the first floor apartment (which was Arrin’s apartment, but he moved into a near-by hotel for the time being) and she’ll be covering most of the utilities with her payments. Tim will probably cover more than the rest of them. Tina, My boyfriend and I could move into the attic, which is highly spacious for an attic, and includes closets and a bathroom. We’d have use of the first-floor grand kitchen (as we’ll also have use of for Social Club meetings) and such.

For Tina it’s probably a sure-go. She really wants out of her parent’s house, and she has a baby on the way. (She’s six months pregnant.) For My boyfriend and I there are complications. It’s farther away from My boyfriend’s work, though not that much farther, but it is a significant amount. It would mean attaining our own groceries somehow. Hm, let me just list the pros and cons separately so I can think about it some more...

Pros:

I’d get to spend a lot more time with Tina

I could baby-sit Tina’s baby and get baby experience

I could make extra cash baby-sitting Tina’s baby

I wouldn’t have to travel at all to Social Club meetings

I could easily host Mary Kay meetings and open-houses whenever I wanted

I would have more space

Cons:

I’d have to travel to see my parents

My mom wouldn’t be receiving our rent money

I’d have to figure out how we’d get groceries

I’d have to move a lot of stuff

I wouldn’t want to abandon the attic I’ve built my self and have lived in for over two years

My boyfriend would have to walk farther to work

The house is haunted

I’m extremely nervous about moving anywhere

So that pretty much covers it. It’s a lot to consider. And I’ve realized that My boyfriend and I could not afford to continue paying four-hundred a month in rent if we lived there. Our four hundred covers our food, and phone bill. We also have a DVR box, high-speed internet, and the groceries are bought and brought home for us. I have no idea how I’d manage groceries for both him and I out of his income after four hundred dollars. So that’s another thing I need to bring up with Arrin.

Arrin, my mom and I, and perhaps some other girls that I guess Arrin has recruited for the Social Club are meeting up Monday. So we’ll be able to work out more details then.

In other news, my shoulder pain is almost gone and I seem to have just barely dodged getting sick, which is a good, because being sick right now would not be good at all!

Times a' Changin'

Wednesday the 16th of January, 2008.

It is 1:03pm at the moment.

I’m not feeling particularly energetic this morning. Perhaps it has to do with getting to sleep around five in the morning. Or perhaps it has to do with Mary’s birds wailing constantly for over an hour this morning. Either way, I hurt darn-near everywhere.

I could blame it on the small bit of non-organic chicken I ate last night. Could it be related to the burps and stomach pains I had last night? When I ate the organic chicken, I didn’t have a problem at all. Is the amount of steroids in the meat effecting me that much?

Everything else I ate yesterday were things that never give me problems. Water, potatoes, lima beans, rice-crisps, pistachios, and organic granola with rice milk mixed with almond milk. The only item out of place was the drum-stick of chicken I ate, skin still attached. I also ate off the ends of the bone and sucked the marrow. I need as much calcium as I can get, you know.

But perhaps that was a bad idea. The stricter I get with my diet the more healthy I feel. And organic eggs really do seem to be more filling and tasty. That could be mostly in my head, but chickens who get exercise, are not fed steroids, but instead, good food, probably do have healthier eggs, right?

It is 4:27pm at the moment.

I’m pondering a large number of things at the moment. Moving in somewhere with Tina. Selling things on e-bay. Fixing the attic. Marrying My boyfriend. Becoming the coordinator, director and designer of a teen social club for western new york. Rereading Flesh & Spirit soon so that I can finally start the second book which I believe has already come in the mail. My boyfriend’s Tattoo Flash endeavor. It’s an awful lot to ponder all at once, and even more to try and compile into some organized, well-reasoned, point-oriented entry.

Wednesday the 18th of January, 2008.

It is 3:20pm at the moment.

I’ve been reading My boyfriend’s old entries and I realize that a large problem we had was simply my talking to Tre over the phone. It made him bottle an anger he wasn’t quite sure he should have or not. It made him question if he was good enough. It made him question if I wanted him or not. Sadly I realize now that even though I didn’t sleep with Tre again after he moved and everything, or anyone else for that matter, it still wasn’t enough. The fact of the matter is, men need to be the one and only man. Some women can handle being one of two, but I don’t think any man really can.

Just talking about Tre was too much. I realize now that a lot of the things he was doing was simply acting like he was single, because he didn’t feel like I was serious. He laughed me and my words off for so long. It’s only after being loyal in words, actions, and mind for several months that he’s finally become stumped as to what I could be doing wrong in our relationship.

He says to me now that he wants to stay in with me, that he doesn’t want to drink anymore, ever. It’s not him just bending to my will, it’s his will changing because of what he believes is true between him and I. He said to me last night, "It would be such a waste for two people as good together and right for each other as you and I to be separated on the account of bitch ass niggas."

Perhaps that wasn’t his exact words, but I’ll guarantee he’d agree to that wording.

January 14th, 2008

Monday the 14th of January, 2008.

It is 9:25pm at the moment.

Ashley, Nicole & Hallie,

I guess my point was that it’s a lot more likely for something terrible to happen to you if you’re involved with bad stuff. Every time I personally hear about someone’s friend getting shot, or raped, or kid-napped, etc, it was someone who was heavily either into drugs or parties or both. The only thing outside of those I ever heard about personally was that Tiffany once was beaten by a bunch of black girls for dressing "goth" when she walked by Grover several years ago. And personally, I think it was an error in judgment to be alone dressed that way in that area. I certainly wouldn’t do that myself. That’s really my only testament to that. Of course walking home from school can be an issue too, but don’t all kids ride the yellow school buses? I always did, and then the bus-aid walks you across the street and everything.

Of course it’s not always the victim’s fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that there are a large number of things a person can do to help protect themselves from those sorts of things happening.

---

Well, after being done with Arrin, my mom continued to speak with him. And Arrin has hatched a new plan of business which he told her about, which he met with myself, my mother and my brother about today. Everything is a little more clear to me now about how Arrin does business, and how he views things. I just don’t like the fact that everything isn’t always clear with him, but I suppose nobody is perfect... Oh how I miss C.

I’ll be meeting with C for lunch this Thursday. I figured that would be a good wake-up call for me. To speak to my old boss, to see how he’s been the last year and a half. I miss him, and I wish I could take part in his company somehow, but perhaps that is an opportunity that I missed out on. But what am I saying? I still don’t want a career, and My boyfriend is fine with me not having one.

On the other hand, I am still a Mary Kay Beauty Consultant, but I have not been doing much with that as of late. Perhaps I will in the future, perhaps I won’t. *sigh*

---

My boyfriend isn’t here yet. I’m not sure why. He’s been so good to me this last week it’s unbelievable. (If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is not true...) So I’m trying really hard not to believe it, but it’s so hard not to get my hopes up in the clouds when he’s coming home every night, blowing off every party he’s invited to, drawing with me, writing with me, talking to me, eating beside me, even dancing and exercising with me. Everything I always knew we could do together, but somehow weren’t.

He did say he was going to take a bath before he came up here, but he wasn’t here yet at 9:20pm, and for him, it’s not a twenty-minute walk. And at 9:05pm he wasn’t at work. I know this because Mom and I were driving home from Arrin’s place, and decided we should swing by and get My boyfriend (since it’s snowing felines and canines out there and freezing like outer-space) but we got there after nine o’clock by a few minutes and he’s not answering his phone. I rang it for ten minutes straight, for the fat lot of good it did me.

I hope he’s alright. I don’t know why I bother worrying about him though, since if anything went "wrong" it’s him being at a party. But on a Monday night though? Highly unlikely really.

---

In other news, Operation Restoration and Reconstruction of the mid-section and ‘front’-section of the attic is underway! Two new construction lights have been ‘installed’ and paid for today by The One And Only Phoenix, herself. (And the accompanying extension cord.) And I’ve gone through one box anyway. It was a box of Melanie’s Mall stuff from when I was a kid. I cleaned the stuff up and transferred it into a bin. There is a good deal of my own stuff I want to get out of the way before bothering to move on to my parent’s stuff, since mine is the stuff that you are immediately hit with when you go back there. Once my storage is re-organized and condensed then I can use the space that the stuff was occupying as a work-station for my parents’ old boxes.

It’s a pretty large project really, but at the same time, I know I’m capable of doing it entirely myself (at least to a liveable degree) even though it will take some time. I’m really excited to have gotten started on that.

Another project I’ve started on is the e-bay project. Which really is a project since it requires so many pictures to be worth-while. I’ve taken pictures of myself in half of the cloths I wish to try and sell. All perfectly good stuff otherwise I’d just throw it all away or something. Perhaps even give it to the salvation army – except that I feel that’s a waste really. I’ve heard and seen some things about the salvation army that deter me from wanting to give away my old stuff to them.

I not only have a bin and half full of perfectly good clothes, I also have a large box full of glass-wear items that would be nice to clean up and sell as well. That’s a lot of pictures and cleaning up in it self. I figure if the stuff sells, or more likely, if half of it sells, it works out to being a $4 to $5 dollar an hour job for a week or two, which isn’t obviously very good, but it’s better than throwing the stuff away, and it’s also better to recycle some of the cost than none. Perhaps it won’t take as much time as I think it will, who knows.

---

I guess I’m not feeling very inspired today. All I’ve done is clean, talk to my Mom and Arrin and my brother, and take those pictures. Not really much to write about, huh? And My boyfriend still isn’t answering his phone at nine-fifty-five. Not a good sign really. It’s the fourteenth, so I should be expecting something bad to happen soon.

Conclusions, Circles and Continue

Saturday the 12th of January, 2008.

It is 6:09pm at the moment.

Yesterday My boyfriend and I repeated the binding ceremony that was done on January 11th 2007. It was a much grander ceremony having the weight of a year behind it, and being an anniversary of sorts. The small metal-heart-box was brought out of it’s pink-tin container within the swede-pink-MK-bracelet box in the bottom drawer of our jewelry box and rested before my largest quartz-crystal point before an orange candle with two wicks, two flames, to represent the two of us.

The entire room was lit with candles, including the bathroom so that there would be no artificial light at all. It smelled of vanilla, apple pie, and the soft scent created by other mild candles mixed together. It smelled of home, protection, and contentment.

I brought out all of my stones and places them artistically about the room, pleased with my arrangement, with my collection, with my knowledge and with my own power. I held my small violet swirled-stone ball. It’s not perfectly round, and you can feel it’s indentations and ripples, though it’s entirely smooth to the touch. I love it’s energy. It helped me focus myself.

I poured a generous, but not extravagant amount of extra virgin olive oil into a small tinted-glass bowl. I pulled out his promise ring (though not his engagement ring, I’m not sure where he’s been keeping that) and his engagement necklace, and his pouch of protective stones to lay beside the oil and the double-wicked candle, as well as the crystal and the metal-weave box shaped like a heart.

Because I don’t have a chalice or an alter, I took a slab of 2 by 2 wood painted solid black that was about a foot long (left over from making the shelves above my bed and television) and taped five candles (with black ducked tape I was given for Christmas from mom) to it. Since I only had green, red and white taper candles I looked up their exact meanings so I could get their placement right.

I taped the green candle in the center. Centering us in logic, prosperity and prudence. I used two white candles beside that, one I inscribed with truth with a small pocket knife I gave My boyfriend last year, and the other I inscribed understanding, and on the ends, I used two red candles. One was maroon and the other was bright red. The bright red one I inscribed with love and the maroon with lust. Perhaps not traditional, but that’s suiting since neither My boyfriend or I are traditional people. (Except in the sense that he want’s to be the working man of the house, and I want to be the house-hold wife who mothers, cleans and cooks.)

I dressed in a flowing, layered, partly transparent skirt cut unevenly into points with a short-skirted slip of black and pink over it. Not a combination I have ever used before. My boyfriend liked it as much as I did.

When he arrived at eleven twenty we meditated on the bed first. A pre-ceremonial protection meditation, concentrated on putting us together within a white bubble of protection, filled with light and completely surrounding us both. Within the white bubble is a white figure eight, one side of the eight enclosing him, and the other side enclosing me, passing understanding, love and truth between us.

We meditated on this facing each other.

My boyfriend without a doubt felt the effects of meditating on his imagery with me. As we moved to the couch (our other bed-couch that actually used to be used as our bed before we decided our couch made a better bed) we were affectionate and whispered to each other, since it was obvious we could not talk since it would be too loud in the quiet candle-lit room.

Touching, kissing, and resettling I set up for the cleansing part of the ceremony. The prerequisite to the binding spell. We dripped wax onto both sides of the double-wicked candle, one side with his finger-print and the other side with my finger-print.

(By the by, if you decide to go do your own binding spell make sure you do not do exactly what you have read here. Spells are to be invented by the person or persons involved and should be as unique as possible, involving actions, words, positions and tools pertaining to what you believe should be done to create the desired result. Spell copying, or ‘recipe spells’ will hold less meaning than self-written incantations, or self-invented candle or stone rituals. And do remember that when you bind someone to you, you also bind yourself to them. Never do this unless you are willing to give yourself entirely to the person you are binding.)

Then we mediated on our cleansing our Chakras: First the red chakra; Located at the base of the spine, this chakra forms our foundation. It represents the element earth, and is therefore related to our survival instincts, and to our sense of grounding and connection to our bodies and the physical plane. Ideally this chakra brings us health, prosperity, security, and dynamic presence. The first chakra is our physical identity. We filled with red, connected to each other in red strings, and then moved up.

The orange chakra, located in the abdomen, as well as lower back, and sexual organs, is related to the element water, and to emotions and sexuality. It is our emotional identity. It connects us to others through feeling, desire, sensation, and movement. This chakra, when strong and healthy, brings us fluidity and grace, depth of feeling, sexual fulfillment, and the ability to accept change. The second chakra is oriented in self-gratification. And so we filled and connected in orange, only leaving the red ball exempt from filling with orange.

Then up to the third chakra. The power chakra, and it is yellow. Located in the solar plexus; it rules our personal power, will, and autonomy, as well as our metabolism. When healthy, this chakra brings us energy, effectiveness, and spontaneity. This chakra is our ego identity and is oriented in self-definition. As so we filled and connected with yellow, only leaving the orange and red balls of energy exempt from filling with yellow.

Then my favorite chakra, the fourth, with the element of air. This chakra is the one I feel when I’m lonely, or upset, or happy. Located in the heart, it is the middle of seven chakras. It is related to love and is the integrator of opposites in the psyche: mind and body, male and female, persona and shadow, ego and unity. A healthy fourth chakra allows us to love deeply, feel compassion, have a deep sense of peace and centeredness. And oh how I feel that peace and centeredness when I’m with My boyfriend. It vibrates when I’m around other psychics and that feeling is so unique compared to touch, smell, taste, sight and sound. It is wonderful when I’m feeling love, and it’s the worst pain I can imagine when feeling separated from love. I had never felt it so strongly as I did when Jeremy left me. It hurt like fire for over a month, day in and day out. When emotions hit us so spiritually and so physically, how can anyone not believe in another plane filled with emotions and energy alone? Incidently this is also the chakra of self-acceptance, and social identity. And so we filled with green, leaving only the yellow, orange and red chakra-balls beneath it.

The fifth chakra is located in the throat and is thus related to communication and creativity. Here we experience the world symbolically through vibration, such as the vibration of sound representing language. This is the chakra of our creative identity, oriented to self-expression. It is the blue chakra. And so we filled with blue, leaving only the previous colored balls in place, and washing ourselves everywhere else in blue.

The second-last chakra, or should I say, second-highest chakra is that of light, oriented to self-reflection. It is our archetypal identity. This chakra is known as the brow chakra or third eye center. It is related to the act of seeing, both physically and intuitively. The purple chakra opens our psychic faculties and our understanding of archetypal levels. When healthy it allows us to see clearly, and to see from a higher plane and level. And so we filled with purple.

And lastly, the highest chakra, the seventh which is oriented to self-knowlegde and holds the element thought. This is the crown chakra that relates to consciousness as pure awareness. It is our connection to the greater world beyond, to a timeless, spaceless place of all-knowing. When developed, this chakra brings us knowledge, wisdom, understanding, spiritual connection, and bliss. This chakra is violent and is our universal identity. And so we filled with violet coming in through the top of our heads, until we were filled and connected with violet energy. Then we filled again with white, only leaving the chakra balls in place, completing the chakra cleansing.

I’d like to point out that for each of these chakras we have a different identity. Physical, emotional, ego, social, creative, archetypal, and universal. To me, this means that each of those energies contains a unique code, like a strand of DNA that directly relates to us in that form. Currently we are all human, based in red and in physical but we also are connected to our emotions, our ego, our social side, our creativity, and many of us are also connected to our archetypal and universal selves. But notice that some people don’t get much past physical. Perhaps alcoholics who deny their emotions and have sex with girls while lying to them about love when they’ve never even felt love would fit the bill.

I believe that when we leave this body that our physical selves, (which will obliviously rot) will have a red strand of information, that contains the DNA information that we lived in as a body as well as our memories of this life-time, and lessons. That piece of information will be a bit of energy that comprises our entire being, and it will be everywhere, just like our DNA in our bodies is everywhere. I believe that those who can remember their past lives are people who either were born into this life as a more advanced soul who couldn’t help but remember in their sleep or even while awake because there is so many useful things to remember that their firmly-connected spirit wants to convey, or they are people who have developed their chakras and their powers during this life-time. I will make my children write their dreams first thing in the morning everyday as one way to help them tap into the messages we receive for our greater selves. (Even if you don’t believe in dreams being real in the other realm, then look at it this way: Dreams take place in your subconscious, allowing you to process your real knowledge, emotions and memories without being clouded by present events or external interactions. Therefore there is an infinite amount of self-knowledge to be gained by remembering and writing them.)

Following this train of thought, our crown chakra would be the "DNA" of our entire soul, containing the information of all of our past lives in and out of the physical plane. But because we are rooted in our red energy, tapping into that energy requires aligning all of the chakras between red and violet. This would be the purpose for meditating. To learn what we already know. Funny, ain’t it?

After the chakra cleansing I lit the five candled alter I made just for last night. Returning to the couch I put an "R" on My boyfriend’s forehead in oil, and he put a "C" on mine. Then we proceeded to write out our future wishes for our relationship in oil on each others bare chests. He only wrote one, I wrote many. Neither of us told each other our wishes. I think it’s beautiful to tell each other in subconscious, in energy, in body and in oil but not in words. It made it so personal.

It made it us.

We held the violet ball in our right hands together between us, and clasped our left hands above that. I told him to remember our worst memories, the ones where he felt guilty, or angry, upset or betrayed. I remember that first time I saw him drunk, when I became so enraged that I banged his head into the floor. I feel guilty about that night, and indignant as well. But now that is so long ago, and it was time to let it go. Then I said to shatter the image, and to forgive ourselves and each other for these memories.

Then, the more pleasant memories were to be recalled. Last year’s binding ceremony where him and I severed bits of hair and melded them together by melting wax over them inside the metal-heart container (with a metal flower adorning the top and a woven-ish pattern covering the entire box). The day that we realized we finally felt like our relationship was back a month after my return from my three-week trip. The trip to Toronto and the convention and when My boyfriend knocked the paper oriental light down and us trying to put it back up properly. The Adam’s Mark hotel during my Uncle’s Super Grands tournament, and having sex in the bathroom, swimming in the pool and watching the fighters in side-rink seats. Those memories to be tucked carefully away, never forgotten.

Then I circled the heart-box the around the candle. This metal box being the only object to connect us to last year’s ceremony, and representing this past year. When back at it’s original point before the crystal I placed a paper heart-cutout picture of the two of us looking at each other over the hairs and wax melted inside. I dripped red wax from my lighting candle, the same used to make the finger prints on the large double-wick candle, and covered the picture with wax. Then I snipped new hair clipping, winding his curl around my straight hair before dropping it into the small container and melting it on top of the picture.

The picture is still visible, but through a red-tint and a little fuzzy in places. I like to think of the fuzzy spots as the bad memories we’ll forget, and what we can see being tinted in red because we’re remembering passion, and love and happiness.

Then, for the final testament of our commitment. A Love Contract we had joked about making two nights before yesterday came into being the night before yesterday. He agreed to it’s terms prior to last night’s ceremony. Casually, he sliced open his finger to sign it in blood and also placed his finger print in blood on it as well. I picked a convenient scab to sign my own name, and added a lip-print in lipstick as well as my official signature in charcoal.

That contract is as follows:

---

Feeling Good For Once

Friday the 11th of January, 2008.

It is 12:46pm at the moment.

I dreamed of Jeremy last night. My boyfriend too, of course, but Jeremy seemed to consume the largest part of the dream. I miss him. He should be my friend right now. We should be able to hang out, call each other up and talk about stuff. *sigh* He’s had the same look in his eye ever since the day he broke up with me. That same helpless, sad, longing look.

I can’t help but want to help him. He deserves so much more out of life. Nothing I can do about it though, huh? He’s got a jealous girlfriend, and I have a boyfriend who wouldn’t exactly approve either. Not that I would particularly feel inclined to do anything with Jeremy anyway, but then, I understand. If I was Janet, I probably wouldn’t trust me either.

Though after My boyfriend and I am married, then there should be no reason to be jealous about it anymore, right? I know that’s more ‘intellectual logic’ than it is ‘emotional logic’ and it happens that emotional logic is what we’re dealing with in this case.

It is 2:31pm at the moment.

I love how my day changes when My boyfriend gets me up in the morning. We’ve been getting up at eleven-thirty, which is one-quarter due to me, and three-quarters due to him. I say that because I programed the alarm into my clock, and I do try to cooperate with him getting me awake in the morning, but oh how spoiled I am when it comes to that! I’ll sleep for ten to twelve hours a night if no one wakes me up, and I know that I don’t need to sleep that long anymore.

We went to sleep at one-thirty last night, an all-time record for us in being so early, and still this morning My boyfriend had to turn the light on for me, talk to me, pull me, (have sex with me) and keep talking to me some more before I finally was fully aware enough to not want to go back to sleep again. It feels good to be awake after sleeping an almost normal amount of time. I suppose 1:30am to 11:30am is ten hours, but then, we did wake up a lot last night. I think it was because we were both so thirsty and we were out of water. My boyfriend ended up going downstairs to get some water for us both at seven o’clock in the morning, and we had trouble going back to sleep at that point.

Anyway, I’m glad we’re getting up. I’m glad we’re exercising. I’m glad he’s coming home to me at night. I’m glad we’re back to talking about kids and marriage as a definite instead of as an "if." I’m enjoying drawing with him, after all, I always learn so much when we draw together. He’s proud of my efforts. I asked him how long he thought it would take before I could draw like he can. He said, "ten years," and yesterday, he lowered it to "eight years" because of how well I mimicked his shading techniques on a sketch of his I was finishing.

I’m feeling really good today.

Scrap Talent Scouting

Sunday the 6th of January, 2008.

It is 2:30am at the moment.

My boyfriend,

As you suspected, you do spend more time with me than you do out. Except for last month anyway. But seriously, by an average of 2%... Great, I’m 2% more important than your friends? Or something like that. And this doesn’t include any measure of the quality of time spent together except that I only recorded hours with me that you actually spent with me. You being at your computer, and me reading a book on the bed (as a dull example) doesn’t count.

Time remaining includes your transportation to and from work, time that you’re awake in the morning and I’m still tired. Time that you were taking a bath, or times where we occupied the same room, but for some reason were not engaged in anything at all together. (Yes, I did count us sitting at our computers as time spent together.)

And out of the time we did spend together, honestly, how much of it was watching TV, being at our computers, or having sex? Not that I dislike any of those things, I like them all, but they are not the highlights of my week. For example, us ice skating together made a highlight. Us having Christmas dinner together made a highlight. Us eating out at Wegmands was a highlight. And damn, I’m already stumbling trying to think up another one.

My boyfriend, I’m crazy about you. But it’s taking it’s toll on me to wait. I waited for Tre for two years. Jeremy waited for me for two years. Eventually there comes a time when you give up. I don’t want to give up. I want to make this work. I’m trying so hard to please you. I don’t know what more you could possibly want from me. But if there is something, for goodness-sakes, ask me.

How come you never write me letters? How come it’s been so long since you drew me a picture? How come you never invite me anywhere? How come you don’t read the books I’ve bought you? How come you never want to do what I want to do, and never appreciate that I’m damn-near always doing what you want to do?

Month	Total Days	Total Hours	Hours At Work	Hours Sleeping	Hours Out	Hours with Me	Time Remaining
August	31 days	744hrs	255hrs (34%)	248hrs (30%)	58hrs (7.8%)	65hrs (8.7%)	118hrs (15.8%)
September	30 days	720hrs	230hrs (32%)	240hrs (30%)	50hrs (7.1%)	97hrs (13%)	103hrs (14.3%)
October	31 days	744hrs	266hrs (36%)	248hrs (30%)	46hrs (6.2%)	48hrs (6.4%)	136hrs (18.2%)
November	30 days	720hrs	234hrs (33%)	240hrs (30%)	39hrs (5.5%)	70hrs (9.7%)	137hrs (19%)
December	31 days	744	242 (33%)	248 (30%)	72 (9.8%)	64 (8.6%)	118 (15.8%)

My boyfriend, above is plain statistical break-down of your time spent over the last five months. On average I get 9.5% of your time. The highest possible with your work schedule would be about 29%. Now you might finally see why this upsets me, but perhaps not. I feel helpless My boyfriend. You won’t listen to me, you’ll barely call me. I feel like my feelings are not even an area considered in your actions most of the time.

I’m alone tonight, with no explanation, and no warning. I was dressed up, make-up to stockings to lacy underwear only to be hung up on for asking if you could please try to be ready by 11:30pm, and ignored ever since.

That is what I’m referring to when I say things are not changing. That is what I mean when I say I’ve rewound two years of my life. This isn’t the pattern of a married man or a father, and those are what I’m looking for, and aiming for. This is why I cry, and doubt, and question.

I want it to be you. This isn’t a break-up letter. This is your second warning.

It is 3:50am at the moment.

Four o’clock in the morning. Again. Yesterday is was five-thirty in the morning before he got home. I knew things would suck even more if I told him he could go out, but I didn’t know it would suck like this. Three Steels he drank last night while he was out. And he came home talking about how Sam wants to fuck him. Seriously, just the fucking highlight of a lifetime.

Last night he let me know he was going out, and that he didn’t know when he’d be home. Today is an entirely different story. A story that for the most part, I don’t know or understand. My Mom offered him a ride, via me. I called and told him, he said he’d love a ride. He said to be there at 11:30pm. At 11:15pm he called me and asked if it could be a little later because no one had left the shop yet, because paychecks were not given out yet. I told him it could not be made later because my Dad would have the car. He said, "Fuck it, if it’s that much of a problem then I’ll walk home!" And then he hung up.

I called right back. No answer. Why did he get angry about it? He was offered a ride. He wasn’t able (so he says) to leave before 11:30pm. Somehow this is just reason to make me believe that he is angry, but that he will be walking home. Perhaps it takes him until midnight to leave the shop, and perhaps in takes as long as half an hour to walk home, and perhaps he spends an hour in the bathroom. Even if all of that were the case, he would have been here over two hours ago.

I take this to mean that he was planning on going out from the beginning and just didn’t want to tell me. Never mind that I took off my jeans and sweatshirt and cotton panties and bra, and replaced it with black thigh-highs, lace-black panties, a lacy-silk dress with no bra, a scarf as a belt, leg warmers (stylish ones that didn’t detract from the outfit that would allow me to not freeze when we picked him up) three-inch-heeled boots, applied my eye-liner, eye-shadow and lipstick freshly, and was about to set out the door when he called and said not to come get him.

I kinda wish I hadn’t answered my phone and had instead shown up. Then what would have happened? Would he have turned out to be ready by 11:30pm after all? Would he change his mind when he saw me?

You know, he doesn’t even read this blog anymore because he says it’ll hurt him too much. I think that’s a flashing banner all on it’s own. He’s in a deep denial. As Tre was. Oddly. Tre knew (as he puts it) that our "relationship was on the rocks" but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. He felt helpless, like our breakup was inevitable, but that perhaps, maybe, just maybe if he stuck everything out that somehow I’d just decide to accept a sloppy, mean, inconsiderate, inconsistent, lying, split-personality, thieving, ass hole as a husband. Ha! You could hang me first.

So My boyfriend thinks I’m going to magically accept getting to spend next to no time with him, and him coming home smelling of beers and acting like a bumbling ass-hole. That I’ll just accept be called a liar and being call typical. What do I do to deserve that? Does every typical woman put up with this shit? Is every typical woman this forgiving? Is every typical woman willing to play out his fantasies in bed, and do all of his domestic work and be here each and every night for him without fail? Is every typical woman willing to do what-the-fuck-ever he wants to do when he gets home? I don’t bloody think so!

And for goodness-sakes I am not a liar! I have a whole fucking blog online filled with over 1000 entries. If I did lie, they would be obvious. But perhaps him not reading my blog is a bigger banner of disaster than I originally thought. At first I thought that it would make my life easier, since I could write fully, without slanting things for his benefit. Without worrying about his reaction. But doesn’t it just go to show that he is purposely not caring about how I feel?

I hate that every little noise I hear excites me because I think it’s him. I hate how I start to tingle when I get convinced that he’s here. Who else would be making all those sounds? But then they die down and stop and I realize that Mary must have used the bathroom, or that Dad must have came home from his night out. I sit there and tell myself over and over again, it’s not him, it’s not him, don’t be excited because it’s not him. You shouldn’t even BE excited, because after-all, look what he’s doing to you! But I can’t help it. My motions still, my ears strain, my body grows tense. Waiting, listening, eyes bulging in the dark. Nothing. No one. I am alone.

It has occurred to me that if I suddenly start seeing spirits one of the nights that he is out that I will be trapped up here. Undoubtedly a spirit that would bother me would occupy the stairs. No one would come if I screamed. I scream too often for that. (When a big spider falls in my face. When I hurt myself. When My boyfriend fucks me. When My boyfriend and I get into a bad argument.) No one would come, and there I’d be, face-to-face with an apparition that I couldn’t emotionally handle. A stress-demon that would feed on my fear, and make me more afraid with my own fear.

I never turn all the lights off when I’m alone. About to turn nineteen and I still can’t do that. I almost thought I could after kicking Tre out, but not quite, not really.

I’m so lost in this sea of feelings and sensations. Here I am, wanting a baby so bad when I’m losing my grip on the father I have in mind. Here I am, not wanting a job, trying to fight the idea when the best job offer I could probably imagine just dropped into my lap, when I need money to accomplish my goals. Wait, what goals? I want kids. But sometimes, only sometimes, I want other things too. I want this attic done, of course. But sometimes other things sound good, like college, like being a psychiatrist, like being a novelist. Yet somehow those dreams fade in and out, while having a steady family is my main focus all the time.

My boyfriend doesn’t really appreciate me, does he? And he doesn’t believe that I appreciate him. But what more could I do to appreciate him or to show him that I do? I’ve sat there, doing nothing but watching him play Final Fantasy 12 for seven or eight hours since he got the game. Just watching, just to be close to him, to converse with him. And what did he do? He snapped at me for "giving all the wrong game advice." I’m so mad at myself. How can this have happened? I’m so focused on making things work with My boyfriend, just like I was a year into my relationship with Tre. Of course, this obviously is on a different scale. My boyfriend and I have only had two arguments as vicious as those I used to have with Tre. But it seems to me as though our arguments are only growing worse.

I finally am getting My boyfriend as an entire picture. Everything that I like about him I knew from practically the first month. And my biggest problem (the drinking and partying) I knew then too. But all these other little things have filled in. His tendency towards denial is just a recent one. His insecurities are things that were revealed to me one by one throughout the course of our entire relationship, starting in the third month or so. His direct connection between sex and love (which he can’t separate – he doesn’t feel loved without sex, period) didn’t become apparent until around five months with him, perhaps four or six months, I’m not sure.

Here go the noises again. What could it be this time? Doors opening and closing. What sound like footsteps. And then quiet again. No activity in the downstairs bathroom this time. Perhaps it was just the wind. This time I’ve managed to stay calmer than last time.

The really fucked up part is that he didn’t let me know he was going out. The part where he got mad at me for nothing. He hung up on me and has been ignoring my calls ever since. Now that is fucked up. I have all the basis to just leave him, and I know I do. I can barely even say that I have the basis to forgive him, because how many times have I forgiven him already?

I feel so desolate, and it’s his fault, again. The ratio between happiness and sadness caused by a partner required to maintain an at least semi-functional relationship is faltering. I’ve gotten so that I don’t cry about half the stuff that he does that I used to. That’s another phase I’ve been through before with Tre. When things don’t bring me to that point anymore. The problem is that I doubted Tre often times in the beginning to, and after all, he flat-out lied, and he was a disaster to physical items, etc. I mean, My boyfriend isn’t like that, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. As one commenter said before (sorry that I can’t remember who exactly, perhaps Ashley or Hallie?) I need to stop comparing him to Tre and saying that he’d better, and starting asking myself if he is enough. I guess the answer to that might be barely.

It sounds so bad, but when he is with me, it’s like magic. Our conversations are insightful and enjoyable. Our hobbies are compatible, our interests are similar. Our goals line up. All except for the part where he works a zillion hours a week, and then parties all night afterwards. But the magic he makes while he’s with me is really starting to become less and less relevant, because he spends so little time with me, and because he breaks my heart by making these promises he can’t keep, and by not telling me his plans or how he feels, he ends up making me feel like shit for long hours of the day and night, much longer than the time I can even spend with him, and our arguments have doubled in the last month in frequency and ferocity...

And then he calls. Just now. In tears. I’ve only seen him cry once, and that was over his mom. Oh no. What could have possibly happened? I’m so confused. I’m going to meet him downstairs...

Tuesday the 8th of January, 2008.

It is 1:09pm at the moment.

After giving My boyfriend the letter (via slipping it into his journal) he said to me, "I don’t know what else you might want from me. Today I came home and I drew beside you, and I read while you read, I wrote while you were writing, and we ate and watched Naruto. Would writing a letter too make any real difference?" (Or something along those lines, word for word is always difficult to come up with, even when it’s something I said.)

I smiled, "How can I put this?" I thought for a moment. "If I had my druthers, that is, if I had everything exactly the way I’d like it, then yes, I want to do all of those things. Everyday when you got home we’d write, or draw, or read, or watch TV, or play on our computer, or talk and laugh, have sex or make love, kiss and play, exercise together, and all of those sorts of things. But..."

"On Sunday we’d –" he started to elaborate for me.

"On Sunday you might do something really extra special for me. Like cook me a breakfast and bring it to me in bed. Or slip away during the day for a few minutes to run me a hot bath with rose petals, and then drag me to the bathroom pretending you’re going to take a bath, and then surprise me with a candle-lit bathroom and wash me head to toe, and warm up my towel in the dryer and dry me too. And of course I’d also like letters or poetry."

"Oh," he said, sounding bewildered for a moment, "I guess I really haven’t been trying."

"Well, I did try some of those things when I first met you," I said, "because that’s when things like that are usually done. To impress and to win. But I was the one chasing you. I kept telling you that you’d better hit me back, but when you never did, I just stopped do the fancy stuff and kept up doing normal wify things."

He does listen, and I love that about him. Or at least, he listens when I talk about him. He’s giving this a fresh new try. I’m trying really hard not to believe it though, because if I get my hopes up, and get all excited then it will hurt all the more when Saturday is a repeat of last Saturday. And yet, I can’t help but feel like him and I are traveling on two paths at once, progressing respectively on them both. One path leads to breakup, the other to a happy relationship. Every argument is closer to the end of everything, and every understanding conversation is closer to being between a perfect married couple. That can’t be normal, can it?

My boyfriend has fun when he stays home with me, and when he goes out, he comes home upset and stressed most of the time. At some point he’ll have to see the pattern, he just has to. He says that he sees that, and knows that, but I guess all large realizations are quicker to be understood than they are to be put into action.

He’s started working out everyday. Not that he was at all fat. His stomach is flat and has been since I met him, with the slight ripples of abs beneath. He’s very thin and has talked about working out and getting "bigger" since he met me. Now three days in a row he’s done push-ups and sit-ups. Perhaps he really is turning over a new leaf. I hope so, because life spent with him is just plain happy.

Wednesday the 9th of January, 2008.

It is 2:07pm at the moment.

I have not been doing anything since I met A. It’s really getting to me. No reading, barely writing at all, no video games what-so-ever, no cleaning has been done, my dishes aren’t clean, the floor needs mopping, I’m tired, feeling stressed and I don’t have anything to show for it yet. And I can’t even write a real entry about it because I have to go.

It is 4:07pm at the moment.

Back when I was working for C everything had an order, and a plan. Everything was professional, confidential, understandable, logical and nobody was kept in the dark. Nobody at C’s design company swore, or was vulgar, or had temper tantrums. Everybody was made as clear as could be on everything. On pay, on hours, on projects, on objectives. I felt free to ask questions, and I wasn’t interrupted. My place as employee was clear.

I’ve been working for A since Thursday last week. Six days. In those six days I’ve changed my myspace, mailed about fifty people on myspace, and posted a bulletin. I’ve opened up an "imgoth" account, and a "vampire freak" account, and messaged thirty to forty people on each of those. I’ve called everyone I know. I’ve made flyers, typed plans, addresses, phone-numbers, and even a contract that had nothing to do with me (that took several hours) under the impression that it had everything to do with me, as a favor. I’ve answered the phones, done two photo-shoots that I was pretty sure I was being paid for, that I was later informed that I’m not being paid for.

I have not been drawing, I didn’t even manage my own laundry, or dishes. The floor has not been swept or mopped. The trashes are overly full. My clothes are in disarray. I haven’t taken a bath. I haven’t gotten enough sleep. I’m tired, and I feel like shit. I have not been grocery shopping with Mom, I have not been using the cook-book I paid for to learn how to make new organic meals. I have not worked on my scrap-booking, my art, my poetry or my novel. I have not worked on the board game.

All I’ve done is work my ass off for no pay for a business that might be closing down anyway, for a man that mostly wants to get in my pants. I don’t think I can do this shit. I was all happy yesterday about organizing a rave for him, and he said that I was going to be in charge of it. Well, I made the passes, and I made them in different colors so that if one person doesn’t manage to give the money to me or Aaron (whoever was supposed to be handling it) then the color passes they were selling would simply be void. I told this idea to Aaron and he didn’t even blink. No recognition of the effort it took to create them, or the time I spent thinking and planning, because he said I was in charge.

He tells me I have a five-hundred dollar budget for making this rave happen, and that I need to get one hundred people there. I say that’s fine, and then I set to making a chart for where each part of the five-hundred is going. I looked up the best prices for paper-cups, glow-sticks, boos, etc, and then when he called me (he fucking calls me constantly) to ask me how I was doing, and I told him about all my progress, and he says that I didn’t need to do any of that, he knows all of that. Well why did he even tell me about the budget if he is going to take care of that aspect?

I feel like he’s pretending to hire me so that I might sleep with him at this point. I should have followed my first instinct and just backed out. S and T, the people working for A, are never going to get this show on the road. I get no credit for being the only person who knows anything about computers whose there. I get no credit for being more organized.

I’m not even sure I can stick this out. Plus I walked out today I got so mad. When I arrived today, the first thing I did was going check up on the notebook that had the information about the appointment I was supposed to have today. The notebook was defaced, the paper I had written on was gone, and as usual, nobody knew how or why. Supposedly the notebook fell apart, which is bullshit when it was in perfect condition before. Why would it just fall apart unless somebody was unduly rough with it?

Honestly, I think either S or T, or both are the people doing the stupid shit. Money is missing from their bank account (and you guys know I don’t stay anywhere near thieves) and papers are missing from their drawers, and the day before yesterday somehow a chair made it’s way through the wall (while noone was there of course) and nothing stays where anybody leaves it. Every other word out of their mouths is fuck (except of course when my Mom is there, or a client) and they’re always all being negative.

I’ve never seen them sit down to a meeting of any sort. I’ve never even seen them have an intelligent conversation. When I was working for C, every Monday we all sat down and discussed what was accomplished last week, and what was going to be accomplished this week. We discussed clients, computers, files, plans, meetings and just about anything relevant to the business, and that kept everyone in the know.

And then, to top off all of that, I brought in the photos I took today on disk. And A scrolled through them (which he couldn’t even do without me – he can’t make his computer burn discs, he barely knows how to read discs, he knows nothing about editing pictures or what can be done with them, etc) and to each picture he said "That’s crap" and sometimes "That’s really crap" and just once he said, "I guess that’s decent." You know what? Fuck this shit. That was my response, though a silent one that it was. But to top it off, he shows Lisa, and he starts telling her how they’re all crap. That’s just great. Can anybody say, none of her business?

He made me look like a total idiot. In fact, he’s been making me look and feel like an idiot since I met him, on top of making me feel like a hunk of meat to be devoured. My anything means nothing to him. Fuck my projects, my needs or wants. And you know, that’s normal when you’re getting paid by the hour. That’s normal when he’s your boss. But when he’s some guy who calls himself "your friend" and constantly makes remarks about marrying me, that is certainly uncalled for. All of it is uncalled for. I don’t want a job, I never did want a job. My parents should have forced my way into college if they wanted this for me.

I left without saying goodbye, and if I can get my parents to not intervene, I’m returning the phone and other supplies tonight or tomorrow, via his mailbox. There is just no point in any of this for me. I’m a nice person. I really am. I consider other people’s feelings, and I try to make sure that everyone knows the whole story from the beginning so there are no misunderstandings. I might be a nobody in the business world, but I refuse to be treated like a nobody.

Thursday the 10th of January, 2008.

It is 1:05pm at the moment.

I suppose it could have worked out, but it just wasn’t headed that way. After I stormed out and had Aunt Mary pick me up there just wasn’t a good way to come back and apologize. Perhaps there was opportunity with Aaron, but I think most of that opportunity would only be available if I was his lover, and as you all know, I’m madly in love with My boyfriend and not interested in other men, especially older white men who are more interested in money than kindness.

I was upset last night. I know I made Aaron feel bad one way or another. He probably thinks I never wanted to be there at all, that I was nothing but a lie that slipped in and out of his life in just under a week. I don’t like knowing that I must be viewed that way. I gave him an attitude in the end. I slouched in my chair, turned on my (almost) ghetto voice, and said I didn’t care, that I didn’t want to discuss it, that my mind couldn’t be changed, that I was technically never employed and that I didn’t care if I seemed unprofessional because their entire establishment was unprofessional.

I was harsh, and practically rude, and I don’t like that. Perhaps that’s why I left, because I was feeling so hostile, so trapped, so belittled, so unappreciated. I don’t need anything interfering with my number one: My boyfriend.

Aaron told me things like, "You should stick to your dreams and goals and let My boyfriend do his tattoo thing on his own." That was one of the biggest turn offs. I believe that two people in a relationship should devote themselves completely. Holding back so much is why so many relationships collapse. Both parties are afraid of being too attached, afraid of heartbreak, so they break each other’s hearts by never being all there, by never getting quite close.

I won’t be that way. I refuse to even bother trying to be that way. I’m not a heartless person. I am not a reserved person. I’m not someone with something to hide. I’m not going to let myself be put in position where I do have something to hide, or in a situation that makes me reserved and heartless and detached. My dreams are children and housework. True, I want to write a few books. True, I want to draw and read. But I can do that and raise children and do housework. But I can’t raise kids, write books, read books, draw pictures, take care of my husband, clean the house and have a career.

That’s why I’m devoting my time to making My boyfriend’s career take off. Aaron may be into occult, and he may be intelligent and have an excellent mind for business, and true, he doesn’t do drugs and he has a hell of a lot of money. But he doesn’t have the character I want. His morals are there, and they are legitimate. I don’t consider him a bad person, he just views everything to far on the scale of business exchange. Too much weighs on what the person has done for him, and not who they are, and what they can do. There is a delicate balance between judgement based on who a person is and what they have done for you. I think he leans to heavily on what he can get out of it.

Perhaps that’s not it either. But I know that when I was around him it felt suspiciously like being around Tre (minus the sexy long dreads and smooth dark skin obviously) – it had that same energy to it. That energy that is a little bit too earthly, and not connected enough to the universe of light.

It is 1:27pm at the moment.

Loopy Kitten,

You make a good point. Not everyone likes so much one-on-one time as I do. I’m aware of this, but sometimes it’s so hard to comprehend it. The thing is that I believe My boyfriend is a person who was like I am now, but changed in order to cope with his surroundings. I believe he only acquired friends to party with because he couldn’t find the right girl. He doesn’t want to trust anybody after how Brianna made him feel.

That may not be entirely true, but he doesn’t seem to contradict that theory. When he doesn’t go out, he spends all of his time that he’s here beside me. He’s the first person I’ve been with who is as affectionate as I am. He’s the first person I’ve been with who kisses so deeply spiritually, but so lightly physically; who makes love every time we have sex, even if only for part of it. Somewhere inside I feel like we are completely identical, and that we just have to strip back some outer-coverings we’ve developed to adapt to our own harsh experiences.

Maybe from an outside perspective it’s easier to see him as like everyone else, and me the odd ball. But honestly, he’s fits in no better than I do. He would tell you himself that him and I are a two of a kind, and that is what makes things so vastly different with him. That is why my determination to make it work has doubled over again, instead of sliding away like it probably should have after my experiences with Tre.

I’m twice as disappointed as I should be when he goes out because I know it’s not him, I know that isn’t what he wants for himself. The real question is; does he have the discipline to erase his fears and go after the few things he really wants with all of his effort? And if I didn’t believe that he could, I wouldn’t still be trying. I believe he wants children and a family almost as much as I do. But just above that, he wants to be a highly respected, well-known, published tattoo and flash artist.

Perhaps he is a person who needs space, and I have not discovered that yet, but if that’s the case, then My boyfriend himself doesn’t even know it yet. He believes he wants what I want, he just doesn’t always know how to say no to his family and friends who want to drink and party all night. As much as I was trying to avoid getting my hopes up, I think he’s turned over a new leaf this week.

We’ll see what we’ll see, eh? You should come and visit here sometime. We’ll show you a good time. *wink, wink*

Thursday the 10th of January, 2008.

It is 4:36pm at the moment.

On a person to person basis, not considering financial assets, physical belongings or different particular skills, I’d say that My boyfriend, myself, Mary, my father and Aaron would all be equals. I’d place my mother, Joel of the Unitarian church and C (my previous employer) all on a higher level. What I mean to say by that, is I don’t consider Aaron better than me because he’s older, or because he has more assets, or better than my father or My boyfriend, or Mary, though I also don’t consider any of us better than him. I didn’t quit because I think I’m better than him, or because I thought it was too much work. (Though the work load was a good sized portion of the sum total reason, but would not have been enough for me to drop the opportunity all together.) I quit (though I was never technically hired) because Aaron is not clear enough about what he means when he speaks, even though he speaks so much.

I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about all of this. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since I left yesterday. (Only interspersed with thoughts of the things I want to accomplish with my time, and of course thoughts of My boyfriend.) I feel terribly about the whole thing the more I think about it. Tim and Scott are out of a place to stay and out of job because they couldn’t manage to recruit enough extras in Buffalo, and perhaps that’s entirely their own fault. Saundra felt that she went through an ordeal with the whole thing. Lisa probably doesn’t feel too good about the whole situation either. And then, the person who has it the worst out of all of this would be Aaron. No one to count on, no one to trust, in a haunted house that he’s not going to keep anymore...

The poor guy is probably lonely. He probably regrets ever trying to open anything up here in Buffalo. It’s a strategically good location, as he put it. So why doesn’t business boom here? It’s something about this city – some describe Buffalo as a black hole – it sucks you in, and never gives back, and never lets you go. Some describe Buffalo as a dead city, where mostly zombie roam, with no real ambitions and goals and no where to go. Some say you can’t make it in Buffalo, that you have to move. And some few will describe Buffalo as a city full of talent and potential, just waiting to be found and used. This is where I’ve lived my whole life, and no amount of traveling can change the fact that this is the place I know best. And from my perspective, everyone in Buffalo should be given the means for them and their whole family to move elsewhere, until the city is empty. Then they should tear half the place down. Restore all the historical locations. Open up a theme-park in one the empty spots they tear down, and redesign the Elmwood strip into one long never-ending flee-market of Moma and Papa shops full of unique things, and then when the construction is done, let fresh blood move into this place. It would take on a whole new feel, and stop being a place for drug users, bums and single welfare-moms.

Heh, Buffalo doesn’t have a ghetto. Buffalo has five or six ghettos. The West Side, where I grew up, in this house used to be an Italian ghetto before I was born. Now it’s predominantly Puerto Rican, and it’s still a ghetto. The house-fronts and yards look terrible, and the back yards are even worse. The houses are crumbling and the paint is chipping on almost every building here on the West Side. This is also true of the lower west side, almost all of the East Side, half the South Towns, and perhaps a quarter of North Buffalo. Right after our Welcome sign, you see a clump of disheveled houses on the lower west side.

So why did Aaron come here? Perhaps because so many people are unemployed. It’s the perfect place to recruit extras, or so you’d think. Maybe unemployment is so high because people are lazy drug users? Or perhaps it’s simply because the education here is one of the worst in the country. Heck, I know ninety percent of everything I learned was from my parents or from books. Perhaps ten percent (and boy is that a lot of credit to appoint to them) came from the schools I’ve been to.

I’m actually embarrassed about the whole thing with Aaron and Talent Scouting. I don’t get embarrassed very easily either. The whole thing just makes me look bad. Everything I was trying to accomplish just backfired on me at every turn. *snorts* I shouldn’t be surprised, that is the story of my life.

The real question becomes, now what? I know what I want to do. I’m going to be My boyfriend’s full-time flash editor. Assuming his stuff sells. I don’t see why not. His art is way better than the flash on the walls. The customers always like his art more than what they picked out off the wall. At the same time though, people want the classic bull shit. They want the hearts, the banners, the lettering... Even when rebelling and inking their skin, people still conform. It makes me feel this odd sense of pride not to have a tattoo. So odd that I would respect My boyfriend’s career choice so much when I would never get a tattoo. Perhaps because I feel that his art has nothing to do with how I feel about getting a tattoo. I don’t even look down on people getting them, I just think that they shouldn’t.

Anyway, I got a little sidetracked. My destination being my mom questioning if I’m a spoiled brat or not. It’s a good question. We all have things we are willing to do, and things we will absolutely not do, no matter what. And we all have things we could do, if given the right price or other compensation. Perhaps the case is that I have higher standards than I probably should considering my age, experience and place in life. In fact, that is highly likely to be the case, and to be what mom was referring to in the matters of me being a spoiled brat.

Morgan,

You ask some really good questions. Perhaps you just have to turn back to the old saying that "time flies where you're having fun" – and of course the reverse is true: it drags when you're not having fun. Life seems to be full of little hypocrisies like how new experiences last longer than old ones. The first time watching an intro to a show it seems twice as long as after you've seen a couple episodes.

PS: I'm so glad your cat came back.

It is 5:55pm at the moment.

My point being that I am at least a little spoiled, and at least a little bratty. The fact of the matter is that I got it stuck in my head that I was going to be a house-wife at a young age, and at some point between my Junior year in High School and meeting My boyfriend, I realized that being a house-wife doesn’t require a degree from college, but college does require a lot of money that I don’t have.

At some point between that realization and now, I realized that getting my own successful career would only mean giving it up when I had children, or not giving my children the home-school education that I desired. And then, somewhere between that realization and now, I realized that if I wasn’t going to get a job, and if I wasn’t going to college, then why wait to have children?

The ultimate bottom line being that I’m marrying My boyfriend and I’m having his kids, and if all goes to hell with him, then I’m still get married and having kids before I’m 22. Can’t change my mind. Perhaps I am lazy to some, but to me, I look at it as being a matter of what type of work I’m willing to do.

Reconsidering

Friday the 4th of January, 2008.
It is 6:19pm at the moment.

I’m half-way through listening to a physic reading I had done for me two years ago where much of what was told to me came true. She gave me the tape, and I intended to listen to it again soon, but never did, until today. Because it was two years ago, you would think it would have lost it’s relevancy, but it hasn’t. One thing that I remember her saying that it hasn’t even gotten to yet is me getting into retail a certain time, which was the Mary Kay, which happened just when she said it would, as I remember it.

But before she gets to all of that, she’s telling me that I’m the sort of person who can make a statement about what I want, and then work towards it, and then get it. That’s a very powerful thing to say to a person. She tells me that by doubting myself, and thinking about the negative, and the aspects holding me back, that I’m adding to the energy that is holding me back.

Make a statement. My boyfriend and I are getting married and I’m getting pregnant with his baby within 2008. I’m going to finish the attic, I’m going to edit and submit his art as flash to liquid skin, and they are going to accept his art, and he’s going to get paid enough for it to cover our growing expenses. Working with his art will be my full-time job, up until I share that responsibility with that of having a baby.

Things I need to accomplish these goals:

2 construction lights

6 drawers for sorting

6 bins for sorting

staples for the staple-gun

a heart-felt conversation with my father

all of My boyfriend’s art scanned

line-work for all of My boyfriend’s art

a complete understand of flash and how it’s submitted and sold

enough mental and physical health to follow-through

Saturday the 5th of January, 2008.

It is 9:24pm at the moment.

My readers know me. How can you not know me if you read this blog? I describe everything about my life, at one time or another. Anybody who has read this entire blog could tell you most everything about me. But my readers, that being you, also know that I write in the heat of the moment. I write things that I feel right then. And we all feel things for periods of time that are not always accurate.

I hated Jeremy when I first met him. He disgusted me. And then, four or five months after we met, I fell in love with him, dated him on and off for a year, and then completely for another year. Jeremy was one of the best things to ever happen to me. He taught me the value of being a lady, and respecting myself, and laughing at myself, and being myself while still blending in. If I had written back then like I do now, I would have written an entry about how disgusting he was, about how his jokes were lame, how he was twisted and ugly. I would have written very nasty things, and I would have been wrong and shallow.

When I met Tre I thought he was romantic, understanding, kind-hearted and loving. Looks can be so deceiving, but they’re so hard to ignore. Tre did have a spark of romance to him (like heating my towel in the dryer) but only a spark. Most of what I saw in Tre I saw because of his long dreads and chiseled body. It was, again, a shallow first impression, that was hard to erase. Believing that he is or was a thief is still sometimes difficult for me. I never wanted to believe something like that of someone I loved. But the fact of the matter is, things stopped disappearing when he disappeared.

On top of all of that, I’m a nervous person. I get nervous about everything. Especially work. I was scared shitless when C hired me. In fact, I was scared most of the time I worked for C, scared of making a mistake, of being fired, of not being good enough. True, I was never scared that he was a pedophile, but he was married and has two kids.

Arrinn really is a lonely puppy in some ways though. I still stick with that part of what I wrote. But he has to be legit. I should have never really doubted his legitimacy. I think Saundra was putting too many ideas in my head. She amplified my nervousness through the roof. She was the one who questioned how legitimate he was technically. I just thought that perhaps she was right.

I guess Scott isn’t actually being fired. I don’t know what the whole story with Scott is. Perhaps it’s not relevant, but I get good vibes from Scott. He seems like an easy-going, well-meaning guy. (Perhaps another shallow judgement based on the fact that he’s almost hot for a white guy.)

Though I think the biggest relief to my apprehension is that Aaron admitted he liked me today. He told me that he’s attracted to me, and thought that I might be too. (I do have a flirty look to me sometimes unintentionally.) And the fact that he was a 180-turnaround on his behavior towards me after that made me feel better. I don’t have a problem with being around a guy I know likes me, after all, I can handle being around Will. What bothers me is when I’m not sure if they understand that I’m not interested. Now that I know that he knows, it’s a lot more comfortable.

Not to mention the photography was fun today. I’m going to be uploading photos to my computer either tonight or Monday. Perhaps even tomorrow, depending on what My boyfriend is doing.

Mom is right about giving things some time. And she’s had a good feeling about it from the beginning. *sigh* How come Mom is always right? I mean, I suppose she isn’t quite always right, but every time I discover that I’m wrong, it seems like she was right. So I suppose she seems to be right about so much just because she turns out to be right when I’m wrong. There are plenty of things her and I disagree about though. Mom was amused to discover that Dad and My boyfriend both seem to think I’m brainwashed by her, and that the men of the house feel that I believe everything Mom says. Mom laughed actually, because she knows how often I argue with her about things, and tell her how I think things should be. We just tend to ally up in conversations because when it comes to important stuff, we do usually agree.

Mom came over as well as Dad today. They met Aaron. Saundra quit today and left me all of her contacts to follow up on about the extras casting and modeling. So now I have a place to really start on everything. Another thing that was good about today is that the make-up and hair person, Lisa, was very interesting. Her and I got along very well. She’s into herbs, healings, spiritualism, etc. So it was cool to talk to her about that stuff.

I had a good day, in other words. I actually didn’t miss My boyfriend as much for once. I was so occupied with focusing on the models and getting them to pose in the best ways that I actually broke out of my normal chain of thoughts. Another thing Mom was right about. Having a job that uses my abilities will help how displaced I feel over not having a family and household to run. People need work. Not a career necessarily, but something they can work at, think about, use their abilities on, come to conclusions with, act on, and get a result from. That result can be pride, it can be money, it can be happiness, it can be satisfaction, or all of the above. I’ve experienced so much where I put in everything just to feel none of those as a result that I recoil from a lot.

I’m just scared. Committing to man is easy for me, but committing to work is hard for me. I don’t want to let myself attach to just anything, but oh how I attach! But I’m glad I didn’t bail after one day. I feel like a broke through a barrier within myself today. Perhaps only to meet another barrier a few feet back, but progress nonetheless. I suppose part of my fear is the loss of my dependance. I like to feel like I answer to My boyfriend, and that he is my sole commander. Odd for me, when I’m otherwise so independent, and so free-thinking. Maybe I need to learn to keep my submissive side in the bedroom, and out of our relationship as a whole? My independent-dependant, aggressive-submissive actions might be confusing and hard to deal with for My boyfriend. *sigh*

Sometimes I just feel like my world was collapsing. But it’s really not. It’s just changing. I’m still upset about the changes that have occurred with My boyfriend, but I suppose that’s all the more reason for me to be independent, occupied, and paid. And Aaron isn’t a creep. I take that back. He seems like a creep because of a few expression quirks he has. Just like Will has some quirks that make him seem like a total dork sometimes. I wonder what I look like to everyone else?

Well, what else can I say about all of that? Tons, come to think of it, but I really should upload those pictures now so that I don’t have to do it later. I’m so emotional sometimes that I want to kick myself. But at the same time, some part of me likes feeling all of those feelings. Maybe that’s my spirit rejoicing that I’m learning so much through all of my fits and bouts and tantrums.

Being skeptical is being smart. So I’ll continue to watch my back and be skeptical. And I suppose I’m doomed to more bad first-impressions. But first-impressions really don’t last forever. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. Hm, I just blinked.