I'm Just Not The Career Type

Sunday, August, 10th 2008 at 4:00pm

I don't want to put everything into one person anymore... But I've never experienced contentment, fulfillment or happiness any other way before...
I don't want to exist right now...
I hate having put so much into him... but...
I can't even talk to my mom when he does this to me... I'm like a shell of a person, blubbering...
It's so stupid...
He likes his rap music and I hate it.... And we've been having the argument since the beginning. He says I should be understanding, I say he should be understanding.
He says I'm wack, I say he's being an ass hole. I tell him I'd be willing to leave the room and do something else where I can hear the music if I had somewhere to go or if we didn't have so little time together. He blows up about how he works all day and should be able to do whatever he feels like doing when he's off work. I say that is no excuse to be inconsiderate. He says I'm the one who is being inconsiderate. I tell him I'm not marrying a man who'd put his music before his wife's feelings. He tells me he doesn't want a woman who is wack.
I tell him that I'm not ending up like my mom, sleeping on the couch because my dad is watching TV late at night. He says "whatever." I say he can leave then, find a better woman. He says he doesn't want to deal with my tears and depressing shit. He leaves. I cry. This has happened at least 20 times. The exact same argument...
I get upset because he knows I hate that music, but he'll put it on, very loudly, and then he'll try and make me like it, as if that is going to work. Today I didn't even tell him to turn it off, but because of my facial expression he turned it off and said I was being a wack as bitch.

Well, he's gone now. All plans for the day are ruined. We were supposed to go to best buy, the mall, Wegmans, Barnes and Noble and red robin. He wants new headphones for his ipod, and a new digital camera before SFX, and a new programming book, and new pants. I wanted groceries and to go out to eat with him at red robin.
It’s raining, and we both love rain... So it's even worse. Now he's out with El and who knows when he'll be back. And I don't even know if I want him to come back. I took the last of his pictures off the wall. My last hopes of a future with him are going down the drain... and he doesn't even care...
Sunday, August, 10th 2008 at 4:30pm
I just tried to call him. No answer of course. I wonder how much time I’ve spent waiting for him to answer his phone in over our relationship. Hours for sure. It takes thirty seconds to get to his answering machine, and sometimes I spent ten minutes calling him eight or nine times because I want to speak to him so badly. On a few occasions I actually spent a full hour just calling over and over again...
I feel so removed from his life, so small and unimportant. I want to fucking die. No, no, no I don’t. I can’t say that, have to stop thinking it. This is just making me cry again. I give up.

Sunday, August, 10th 2008 at 10:00pm

I need him to come home, tell me he was wrong, out of character, that he was lying and that isn't how he really feels and that nothing is more important than me, and that he's sorry he spent the whole day away from me, and that his heart is breaking thinking about me in tears and that.... oh blah, and if he said all of that, what good would that do?
He's said it all before and betrayed himself a zillion times over. I'm losing all trust.... When the last day of us is over, then I will need five days to cry in five different ways, five more days of distraction, in five different ways, five days of hiding, in five different ways, and then two months of remembering and wishing and... And... After that I always start to heal by falling in love again. I never healed by myself. Poor Crusipher didn't fall in love again, he spent three years in depression... It must have done something awful to him to hate himself and the world so much for so long...
He didn't care I gave it up the first night, in fact he liked my openness. I didn't care he was black and acted white, in fact I liked his style. He liked my art, I loved his. We couldn't get enough of each other's passion in bed and out of bed. We had never met other people so affectionate and wouldn't stop touching from the moment we woke up until the moment we went to bed. No one ever liked to be that close to me so often, and he loved it. I love his skinny body, and he likes my very soft one... I like his unique angular face and he likes my "girl next door" look. I liked his style of clothing and he liked mine.
We dressed up in all-out goth together and laughed at everyone's reactions. We had deep discussions about art and how crafting something with your hands changes how you look at the world. We talked about religions, ideas, pasts and everything... We had nothing to hide, and we even revealed our craziest fantasies and we were both amazed when the other person wasn’t disgusted in the least.
Things only went bad when he drank, which didn't seem to be a serious addiction at first. He gave up cigarettes for me easily enough, so why not beer? But the drinking didn't stop, and every instance was just as bad as the last. He's paranoid of being enslaved. He hates women because of his ex and his mom and all the girls who were "prude" or liars. He can never trust me, and I hate that. I hate being called a liar, and that caused at least thirty arguments.
Then when it came time for the road trip my Dad and I had been planning for a year, three months into the relationship, where I was gone for an entire month, he felt like I left him, like I wasn’t going to be the same when I got back. We started arguing a lot more after that, and after the initial lust wore off he accused me of being like all the other prude chicks out there.
All last summer he came home late night after night, drinking, never calling... I was miserable and he didn’t seem to care. Winter seemed like a healing period, and in February he didn’t go out once, didn’t drink once, and I thought we really had smoothed out all our problems because we hardly argued at all. Then in March everything seemed to whiplash back, and any progress made was simply lost.
If anything good is coming of this long string of events, it’s that he might really be realizing that his drinking is a problem and that his friends don’t care about him as much as he thinks they do. But I can’t be sure that he’s really realizing anything since every week he promises to change, and every week he breaks his promise.
In any case, there is nothing I can do that I have not already done...


Monday, August, 11th 2008 at 10:55pm

Nobody is ever innocent. We all have flaws in our reasoning, our upbringing, our thoughts... Or as Mott says it, everything we are, say and do is subjective. In other words, we’re a product of our experiences and our environment, and thus, our opinions can only encompass what we ourselves have experienced.
Crusipher made some points last night that were true enough and logical enough that my reasoning broke down, my argument fell away and I was left with nothing to do but admit to being wrong, admit to being lazy, admit that he’s not the only person making mistakes here, and then I went and cleaned in the kitchen at four o’clock in the morning because I felt restless and defeated.
He pointed out that having children in this house would be a disaster because of the condition of the house, and that I need to take this house over and put order to it because I’m the young woman of the house. I pointed out that as long as my parent’s stuff is in the way and as long as they won’t cooperate, it’s futile. But by the end of it, in my own mind at least, I had found a happy medium.
I have a plan. You see, washing dishes in this house truly is a lost cause. If I wash the dishes every single day, there will only be more dishes. That will never do anything for masses of junk piled up in corners, in boxes and in bins, or just haphazard piles of old glassware, old tupperware, old and new tools and supplies, crafting supplies, x-mas decorations and so forth... Those messes are the ones that make everything so disgusting and unlivable, and if I wash dishes and free up some of my mom’s time it won’t get the house any cleaner.
So now that I have explained what won’t work and why, let me explain my plan. (I have actually tried doing all of my own dishes and Crusipher’s, and my parent’s agreed to wash their own dishes, but never did, and I ended up washing my dishes before and after for a little while before I gave up.) My plan is to clean up the messes that are not being renewed, to clean up the old messes. Last night I started with a corner of the kitchen...
When you enter our kitchen you enter to the far left of the kitchen next to the left wall. To the right is our microwave on a shelf, and below it is the microwave oven and various haphazard drawers, containers, and cooking supplies. To the left is a small counter area with the toaster, silverware drawer and below that are some pots and other various things in a low cabinet. Following the left wall there are spices, spatulas and large spoons hanging on the wall, and then there is the stove. Beside the stove is a counter that leaded into the corner of the room beside the stove, and because there are cabinets above the counter it creates are hard-to-reach counter area that gets very cluttered.
You can imagine where this is going, but it’s worse than you imagine. Under the counter there is an open area that is about four feet squared (very roughly) with a 1 foot wide opening of full height. This means that whatever is put inside it can not really be reached once something is put in front of it. Last night, at four in the morning I pulled everything out of it.
I found three unopened packages containing the metal sliders that allow a drawer to slide in and out almost friction-lessly from a desk or counter. I found some moldy tuperware which I threw away along with some cardboard boxes that were very old and dirty. I don’t even remember most the stuff I threw away because it was just so obviously trash. I filled three-freaking-trash bags. I kept my mother’s old jam-jars that have the wire-style clasp because I know those have meaning for her. I kept the drawer-sliders of course. I also found a duct-kit which I also kept. I organized all of those things back into the space along with a large set of mugs from another area of the kitchen that nobody uses. (Of course I washed the inside of this cubby first since it was filthy, and I thought I was going to suffocate from the smell of mold and pinesol when I had to crawl inside the space to actually clean it which mean holding my breath while cleaning or dealing with a violent headache.
In the end, the space is much cleaner, much emptier, and there is no a vacant shelf in the kitchen. The entire project took two hours. I returned upstairs at six in the morning and fell asleep pretty easily. I set my alarm for eleven in the morning and forced myself to get up when it went off, then made Crusipher and I tea. We had a nice morning together, including him jacking off on my chest (which I just love... Who would have thought?)
Then I continued to clean some more today in the living room. I spent an hour in there and filled another two trash bags. I found a cloth shoppers bag full of something to disgusting to really investigate. It was molding into the fabric and stunk worse than the pinesol and mold had in the kitchen. I put the entire mass into the trash. (The cloth bag is worth a dollar, and cleaning it would be worth at least ten dollars to me when it smelled like that.) I also found all sorts of old magazines, including ones belonging to me. The only ones I don’t toss out is the reader’s digest.
I organized a bunch of x-mas stuff and a bunch of my mom’s lord of the ring stuff as well. Now there is much more open space is another small area in the house. At this rate, I’ll have the entire house done before x-mas this year, and that makes me feel really good about myself. Screw a regular job. I have an entire house to clean, an fulfillment is waiting at the end of this project.