Hungry

Tuesday, November, 11th 2008 at 11:37am

I know that there was a reason I wanted to get up this morning. I was looking forward to something. What was it though? Now that I’m awake and Crusifer is gone... (Why the hell does he leave at eleven-thirty to get to work at o’clock when it’s a five minute drive, a ten minute bike ride and a fifteen minute walk?) I don’t know what I was looking forward to.
I probably was hoping to write or something. It’s hardly possible with the blaring music, the loud construction... We’re getting siding done on the house. They start making this awful racket around eight o’clock in the morning. I generally go to sleep around three in the morning, so you can imagine how I’ve been taking that. I ended up getting up at ten this morning, not like you could call what I was doing sleeping from eight to ten.
I am trying again. That is, with Crusifer. But it’s bloody hard to get over how bitter I feel. I’m not even sure of all the ‘generous’ things I normally would want to do for somebody I’m in love with... Doing anything at all for him makes me feel like an idiot wasting time. He got mad at me this morning for spending ninety dollars on groceries.
I bought apples, cheese, apple soy chips, rice crisps, eggs, chicken broth, carrots and mint for me. I bought chicken wings, pizza, and orange juice for him. I bought three gallons of water, a pack of toilet paper, and plastic forks and spoons for the both of us. What’s he expect? Heaven forbid we run out of shampoo, trash bags, wipes and hot sauce all at once, he’d probably flip.
In general, let’s see, the disposable things (between both of us) that we’d always like to have: trash bags, tooth brushes, tooth paste, napkins, wipes, toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, appercot scrub, soap, body wash, a body scrubber, toilet cleaner, floor cleaner, organic snack food, fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, frozen lima beans, potatoes, honey, eggs, bacon bits, rice, tea bags, fresh herbs, spices, body lotion, frozen pizza, frozen chicken wings, gluten-free flour, hot sauce, matches... The list probably goes on, but I’m sure I covered the major stuff. But imagine how much that would cost if you bought it all at once!?!? Probably around three hundred, maybe four hundred dollars. So yeah, once or twice a month, if you intend to maintain your standard of living, you’re going to spend one hundred dollars on grocery store stuff.
Oh nifty, the internet is out again. Wireless. What a drag.
What’s funny is that mom provides us with eggs, potatoes, bacon bits, spices, lima beans, lettuce, butter, milk, and other such things. She lets us use her stuff all the time. We’re using her oil and her deep fryer for the chicken wings. Her pans to cook muffins in. Her pots to cook rice in. She buys the paper plates, and/or washes the dishes and buys the dish soap. Things would be a lot more expensive if weren’t living here. He’s so unappreciative.
This is not to mention the fact that I went to go buy groceries by myself, and had to put gas in the car because it was on empty, but generally we don’t pay for gas either, nor car assurance.
So I just called him to tell him that I forgot that I also put gas in the car. We end up arguing, of course. We were calm for about half that conversation. Then he tells me he has to go, and I say, “Why? It’s only twelve-fifteen...” And he says, “Because I have to handle business. I’ll call you back.” And I say, “What business?” And then he’s not listening to me and I hear El’s voice, so I say, “You’re not handling business, you’re talking to El. Why couldn’t you just say you wanted to talk to El?” And he says, “Because then you’d get angry because I was talking to him instead of you.” And I say, “Yeah, but at least you wouldn’t be lying to me, that’s just going to cause another argument.” And he says, “I’d rather just lie to you and get off the phone now than spend the next twenty minutes arguing with you on the phone. I said I’d call you back.” And then I say, “But you won’t call me back! That’s another lie!”
He hangs up.
I don’t see how I can put forth effort into this relationship again. I’m afraid I might have already completely given up. I’m just to scared to admit that to myself or something.


Comments:
2008-11-10 15:27:34 Ras-Travanti
as for your question call it a hint of delayed growth. what i mean by that is you breaking up with me was probably the best thing for me. you for one should know people can change, and when you broke up with me you yanked me out of my comfort zone which was being with you forever in that house and at that point and time I was comfortable with that thought which in it self shows that i had a lot of maturing to do. But when we broke up reality hit me like a ton of bricks I started to think i mean really think about everything. Such as life in general what do i really want out of life, and for a very long time it was just to have fun in life being with you with out any consequences of my actions. Now that thought made me understand something that i was ignorant to at the time, consequence being with you i felt that nothing mattered at all but i forgot a simple rule in life that my father was trying to tell me long before i met you. and what you forced me to learn every action has a reaction. i fucked up (my action) you dumped my ass reaction duh right i know. now with that in mind i thought about the reaction of you if i had acted on impulse instead of logic. I loved you and still to this day you have a piece of my heart. so i figure change in my reality would do me some good, and it has change of environment progression in education and being a provider has molded me into a different man that walks a self righteous path. i know that me going crazy would not change anything. if anything it will diminish hopes of you seeing change in me. Live Life Don,t Just Merely Exist.

2008-11-14 04:50:38 Someone - Somewhere
hey i've been reading for awhile and i noticed how you almost-always write about how your relationship is non-existant or something. i honestly, don't know why you won't just let go....but then again, i'm not you so i wouldn't know how hard it is.


2008-11-14 15:22:02 Sherry - sherryrowe@gmail.com
MEN!!! Reading this made me want to smack him with something, and I don't even know you guys!!
http://bais-mom.diaryland.com


2008-11-05 22:07:58 Stepfordtart - Somewhere
I havent been over here before so Im not really qualified to say, but he does sound a bit of a cunt. Good luck with the Nano - I have a couple of other d'land friends who are doing it, too. I only wish I had enough time to have a go myself. s x http://stepfordtart.diaryland.com


2008-11-06 00:16:08 Anna - Somewhere
Hiya - I am by coincidence one of stepfordtart's friends who should be doing nano but is browsing through diaries instead. So I'll be off, as I've done less than 3,000 words. Good luck x
http://annanotbob.diaryland.com


2008-11-06 00:33:26 Someone - Somewhere
Fuck this guy. You can find better than this. Good luck : - ) PS You are beautiful


2008-11-06 11:37:19 Tobias - Somewhere
Its good that your spending more time on things that make you happy. As for your situation with Crusifer, it seems like you are starting to answer your own questions - and that is great.
http://lawliiet.diaryland.com


2008-11-07 20:05:38 Travanti - Somewhere
hey i know its a long time since i read your diary ur i was just wondering what you been up to sorry to hear things are rocky in relationship but i really just wanted to say hi and hopefully chatch up on things. ttyl.

2008-11-08 18:22:30 tater - Somewhere
You are thinking really lucidly about this relationship and that is good. Throw him out on his ass whenever you feel that you are ready. Keep creating..don't let anything or anybody stand in your way!


Thursday, November, 13th 2008 at 3:95pm

Yesterday I took the backs and seats and table top off of a card table and chairs, and I re-upholstered them with the pink vinyl Aunt Mary gave me last year for Christmas. I did this because I had the cloth and didn’t know what to use it for. I did it because I needed a table and chairs to play board games on for game night. I did it because Mom and I happened to see them at a second hand store and she wanted to buy them, but was hesitant because they were beat up, but wanted them because they were the ‘quality metal kind’ that they don’t make anymore.
I agreed to re-upholster them and spray paint the metal if she paid for them and we’d both have use of it. So we got them. Also yesterday, I took the metal parts outside and killed the fingers using three cans of black spray paint to finally get all the areas covered. Then it rained this morning, so when I went to go use a fourth can for the finishing coat they were wet. So I dried them off with paper towels outside in the cold. And then I had to set up a tarp to cover them and use wet bits of wood and such to prop them up.
Meanwhile Crusifer is upstairs looking at porn. That’s all he’s done since six o’clock this morning. He won’t pay attention to me because he’s too busy talking about porn, and regardless of what I say he turns the topic back to hot females other than me. He gets frustrated because I’m looking upset. I try to explain, but he clearly doesn’t get that talking to me about hot girls other than myself does not count as paying attention to me.
He makes a real attempt to pay attention to me for about five minutes. Five minutes were pleasant this morning. Then, he remembers some thought about some chick and starts playing with his hair, looking to the side and talking about porn again. He defends himself by saying that he doesn’t know these girls and such. So what? It’s not about the porn! It’s about paying attention to me. But does he ever get what I’m upset about? No.
So then I ask him if we’re going to drywall today, like he agreed to on Tuesday and yesterday. He says no. Then he wonders why I’m upset again. He defends himself by saying I could get things done myself. He wonders why this makes me more upset. I get dressed, he returned to his computer. I go outside and dry off the chairs, set up the tarp and begin to cover all the splotches the rain made.
I’m cold, and wet, and my fingers hurt, and Crusifer comes outside and says, “What’s this for?” Never mind that I’ve already told him twice. Oh well, it’s expected to have to repeat myself. “The kitchen?” He asks.
“Nope, it’s for the dining room. Well not really, it’s the gaming table for now.”
“What’s up with the seats?” He asks.
“They’re inside, I re-upholstered them in pink. Remember?” I explain.
“You’re not going to paint the walls pink and black are you?”
“No, I’m not. I already told you that.”
“Well, if you’re going to put all this pink and black stuff in there... The whole house is going to be pink and black.”
“I’m building you an office,” I say, getting angry. “You can do whatever you want in there.”
“So you’re just giving me one little space while you have the rest of the house!”
“I only have one little space too Crusifer!”
“No, you have the whole room!”
“It’s not one little space, it’s huge, it’s half the attic!”
“I just don’t want you making the whole house pink and black. Our whole room is pink.”
“I painted it before I met you!”
“I know, but now you’re doing it downstairs too.”
“No I’m not. This isn’t going to be the dining room table. It’s a folding card table. It goes in a closet! I told you I’m only going to paint the window frames in the kitchen black, and then I’m done painting.”
“Whatever, I don’t why you’re starting shit,” he says, walking towards the backdoor.
“I’m starting shit?! You came out here just for the purpose of accusing me of making the whole house pink and black and I’m starting shit!?” But he’s already back in the house. When I come back inside, he’s gone.

Thursday, November, 13th 2008 at 5:39pm

My head hurts.
My relationship with Crusifer is never going to work. I’m never going to be able to talk to my Dad without getting angry. I’m never going to know either of my brothers. I won’t be having children or a husband any time soon. Matt is too busy to spend any time with me, and Mom is about as rankled as I am only with more things to do.
I’m trying so hard not to let other people’s actions throw me so out of whack, especially Crusifer’s. But both my father and Crusifer make my heart ache so bad. On days where I’ve had a go with them both I can barely hold my gut from spilling out.
I can’t deal with myself anymore.


Friday, November, 14th 2008 at 4:39pm

Some advice I posted on the Nation Novel Writing Month’s official website’s forums;

We all experience it; that page we write that was unintended. That paragraph that was totally out of line. That sentence that had nothing to do with anything. Nanowrimo has forced me to figure out a way to avoid that, and I'd like to share it with everyone.
Often, we reread the last bit we just wrote and then try to think of the very next action or sentence to follow it. This is dangerous everyone! Very dangerous indeed. What then happens is that we just link one sentence to the next, one paragraph to the next, which is excellent for a bit of stream of consciousness but terrible for creating an interesting theme, plot, moral, characters and scenes and so forth.
The solution? After recalling where you left off, close your eyes. Take a deep breath and smell the air. Feel your body and it's warmth. What's touching you? What are you touching? What do the textures feel like? What does the air smell like. What's the current taste in your mouth?
Now, once you've answered all these questions for yourself, answer them for your character in your story. Do this all in your head, no writing yet. Once you've done that, imagine what your character will do next. Imagine the entire next scene or chapter, and imagine it vividly. Say to yourself inside your head some lines that you may write to accent certain parts of your imagination. When you've completed a section of your story, a scene or a chapter or the next 1000 words, then open your eyes and watch your fingers fly to work.
It's amazingly effective. The trick really is to be relaxed enough to imagine the next events clearly. If need be, imagine the scene a second time with a slightly different twist, and then write it which ever of the two ways flows best. Don't beat yourself up if you don't end up writing exactly what you imagined. The imagination of the scene is mostly to get you juiced up to write. Guiding your plot and characters more effectively is just a happy bonus.
Try it, and then reply this topic with your experiences.



Saturday, November, 15th 2008 at 12:09am

Well, Crusifer isn’t making the best case for wanting to marry me. He hasn’t managed to make his way home. To say that this displeases me would be inaccurate, an inadequate.

Saturday, November, 15th 2008 at 8:22pm

After writing that sparse tidbit last night, I got on to writing. I wrote for a decent amount of time. Crusifer got home at around three in the morning. We had sex for the second time since my abortion. It still hurts. It hurts in a way that I now understand to mean that I have a buildup of “goop” inside. In other words, all the discharge is building up along the walls. It’s good to understand these things now. In the past I have not been able to do anything but say that I’m cursed. The doctors never have an explanation for any of my ills, pretty much since birth.
So yeah, women, if you ever have the sensation that your insides are being scratched, like there is hair on the penis that is penetrating you, it means that you have a build up inside. Have him help you get it out by scooping gently with his fingers. Take some long soaking baths. Wait a few days for your insides to heal. If it gets worse, then, well, see your doctor. If it remains the same, repeat. If it gets better, then celebrate with some passionate love making.
Those are my words of wisdom for the day, ha. My brother Roy went to an arm wrestling competition in Albany today. My mom drove him and Roy’s son, Mike out there. They’re still driving back now. Roy called and told me he got the right-handed novice trophy. He’s gotten the left-handed novice trophy once before.
Crusifer didn’t go to work today. He’s at his computer watching porn right now. Though we had sex last night we had to stop because it started hurting a lot more than it ought no matter the amount of lubrication I added, so he never was satisfied. Afterwards we of course argued. I cried. He slept. About the time I was almost dozing off a bunch of racket started downstairs; Banging, yelling, raised voices, bursts of loud cackling laughter, cursing, angry voices, more banging, more yelling, shrieking. This was at four-thirty in the morning.
I knew they were getting up at four to leave at five, so you know, I’d expect a little noise. But come on, do we need to bring the house down? So I called my mom’s cell phone. No answer. I called the house phone, which seemed to bring a whole lot more noise, not sure if that was coincidence or not. Then I called the cell phone again. My Dad answered. Not the person I wanted to answer.
“What?” He says, accusingly.
“What’s all the noise? I’m hearing cursing, yelling and banging.”
Very loudly he answers, and I don’t recall what he said. I could hear him not just through the phone but through the floor which is disconcerting. He passed the phone off to my mom, meanwhile I can hear my dad both through the phone and through the phone banging on the walls yelling, “she’s complaining that I’m cursing, yelling and banging!” He repeats this over and over again.
Mom says, “Did he wake you up? I thought I heard you guys moving around, wasn’t sure if he had woken you up or if you were already awake.”
I think I answered something not exactly explaining that I wasn’t asleep yet but trying to be. I said something vague.
Mom says, “He’s drunk. He wanted to make sure we’d be up so he was making a lot of noise.”
“You’re up now, so why all the noise still?”
Meanwhile I can still hear him through the phone and the floor continuing to yell just to spite me now.
“I’ll try to shut him up,” Mom says. We hang up. I hear her yell over my Dad something about how he wouldn’t like it if I woke him up either. The noise doesn’t stop. I go downstairs and close the kitchen door, and my door (left open to let heat rise) and then turn on my fan facing away from the bed as high as it will go. It muffles most of the noise, but then a short while later I hear “ice cold! Ice cold!”
I roll over, pull the blanket over my head and try to shove Crusifer over who is in a drunken sleep himself. I think about how being drunk is retarded and how men and their drinking are a bane to all of society. I might have cried again, I forget. Eventually it goes quiet and I sleep.
Ten o’clock in the morning, after I’ve barely made five hours of sleep, if that, Crusifer attempts to wake me up to talk to him. When he finally has me fully awake, he abandons me. I get angry. I cry, and fall back asleep. When I wake up again it two in the afternoon and he’s long-since gone. I can’t think of any responsibilities for the day and go back to sleep. At the time I remembered my dreams, but I don’t now of course. Interestingly, Crusifer has stopped trying to remember his.
I wake to the sound of pants-chains coming up the stairs. No one else wears pants with chains so I identify it as Crusifer. It’s about four o’clock and I’m surprised I’ve slept so late. Crusifer tells me about how he hasn’t been feeling himself lately, how he feels empty. I guess we’re both falling out of love. It’s hard to do anything about it really. It takes everything in me not to be bitter, to be forgiving, to not argue all the time. That is, it’s hard not to be that way if I talk at all. It’s easier to just avoid everything and just do whatever and not include him.
It never was this bad between us before. I have little hope of redeeming anything between us now... Out of curiosity I read the entry I wrote one year ago on this same date. Mom and I had just played Civilization the card game for the first time on the 14th. I was nearly done with my board game, except that I didn’t know yet that the resolution was too low and that everything I’d done was unusable.
I hadn’t given up on my old novel yet, and said that it was simply on “pause.” I was content then. Despite Crusifer getting home at least an hour late almost every night, I was content. I had just made the floral arrangement for my mother’s living room mirror. I was very proud of that and very in the spirit of the holidays. This year... I have little spirit in me for much of anything. I’m making all the moves, but I don’t feel... I don’t feel much.
I feel anger towards Crusifer and my father. I feel betrayal from men. I feel empty when I’m not doing anything. I feel delight while I’m making progress on Nanowrimo. Ah, I feel alive while I’m writing my Nonowrimo Novel. I have to thank Matt sincerely for bringing it up to me. It’s honestly the only thing holding me together right now; the 50,000 word goal, the determination to make it the best thing I’ve ever written...
I was excited that I was using Crusifer’s art on the cards. Now I’m trying to avoid using too much of his art in case... You know. It’s depressing, but even that doesn’t really affect me the way I know that it should. He’s touching me now. It feels good, I can still feel the warmth, I can still feel good about it... But I can’t say it’s the same. And now knowing that he feels that way too. What am I to do? I think we could both benefit from Mort’s advice... We should listen to the CDs together...
I’m afraid of trying and failing again. Maybe that’s what he’s afraid of too. Ah, he’s kissing my back, not so sleep.
I like looking at where I was a year ago and such... It’s interesting. I think I’ll see what I wrote two years ago now... Two years ago on the 14th (there was no entry for the 15th) I was just starting to miss Tre after breaking up with him. I remarked on how I missed him doing the chicken noodle soup dance. That was just before I met Crusifer in the first place...
Oh shit, reading the entry from the 16th... Today is our two year anniversary of the day we met. Ah, just like Mort says, love wears off after two years if you don’t make new love. And we have not been making new love at all. It’s hard to bother when he goes and gets drunk and shit... Who would have thought? I think it would help us a lot if Crusifer would read everything I’ve written throughout our relationship.
2008-11-16 21:08:32 tater
#1: Your dad is such an ass (at least from your description of his behavior in this entry)..sorry you have to live with someone like that! #2: I'm SO GLAD you are making such progress on your writing for NanoWriMo...It gives a huge sense of accomplishment and writing THAT much just feels good...I remember feeling on top of the world when I had completed my writing goal (and I finished early to top everything off!)


2008-11-17 07:21:05 Phoenix - pitifulbarbie@aol.com
My Dad didn't used to be like this. I have no idea what's gotten into him. It's been getting worse and worse for years now. I'm avoiding talking to him at all costs right about now.

Sunday, November, 16th 2008 at 11:43pm

“Fuck you; don’t talk to me.” Those are the most recent words said in this room. And not by me. I’m so sick of him getting angry with me for not doing anything wrong. I’ll misunderstand what he’s trying to get at, argue against what he’s saying, and then he’ll get angry and not talk to me all day because I was “trying to play him” and then claims he didn’t mean what I thought he meant in the first place, but then remains angry with me.
He’s always used the word “nigga” a lot, which isn’t a problem for me. His grammar isn’t always perfect, but I never really minded that either. He’s capable of having an intelligent conversation, so why should I care? But lately... He’s cursing more than ever before. I don’t mind a few curse words here and there, no big deal. But just now, listening to the words he used when he talked to me.
“Niggas aint know me. Niggas don’t know nuttin about me. I aint even say nuttin about dat shit.”
He never used to talk like that. I pointed this out to him, but it just makes him angrier. It’s a good thing I’ve already pretty much given up. I’m not in tears. I’m not stalking out of the house. I’m not compromising my opinions just to end the argument. I’m not going to mend this problem by sitting here and telling him that he’s right to be pissed off at me. I’m going to pretend it’s okay for him to talk to me like that.
In a nut shell, it’s already over, and has been since I found out I was pregnant. No, since I thought I was ‘sick’ and he wouldn’t take care of me. I hobbled around on my own, dizzy, nauseous, with a headache, blacking out... I took care of myself in that condition for over two weeks. I was constantly tired. I felt like shit. And did I get any support from him? Then he bitched almost the entire time in the waiting room for the abortion. It helped remind me of why I was getting the abortion, but didn’t make me feel better.
I’m the one who had to have three needles stuck in me. I’m the one who had a growing ball of cells yanked out from inside of me. I’m the one who was sick for nearly two full months. I’m the one whose been bleeding for an entire month afterwards. I’m the one who couldn’t take a bath because of this nonsense. I was the one alone and crying. What right does he have to be angry with me?
For trying to help him? For telling him my opinions? For caring about his well-being?
I’m so fed up with this shit. Not even angry-fed-up. Just tired. I wish he still worked until eleven. I wish I didn’t have to go pick him up. I wish he worked on Thursdays as well. I hardly enjoy his company at all anymore. Sure, once a week or less we have a decent night together, but...
I never thought... A year ago I still believed we were going to be married by now. I believed that. I was planning on that. I wanted it.
I wish I was in college.
I don’t have words for the disappointment I feel. The world is a big let down. At the end of the day you can only rely on yourself. I hate facing that.
I have not written at all today. It’s a good thing I got ahead yesterday, because I would be behind now. It’s hard to... do anything at the moment...
It would have been a perfectly fine day if Crusifer didn’t get all pissy about stuff I don’t even want to bother documenting. Short version: Celtic dancing looks kinda funny when done by guys. Crusifer attempted to make a joke about it. I laughed. Then he added something about masculinity. This was in the car to Robert’s house with Roy and Michelle and my mom also in the car. Mom disagreed with Crusifer’s statement. Crusifer said something else that no one can agree on. Roy made a serious face and said he used to do Irish dancing. Crusifer laughs. Other remarks are made. I offhand mention to Crusifer only that he needs to get a different job. He hasn’t be kind to me since. (This was around five-thirty.)
Airelle and Michele (Roy’s children, both of different mothers) played Risk with Roy and Robert (my half-brothers on my mom’s side) Mom and I. Robert got squashed between Michele, Mom and Roy and was the first one out. Airelle and Michele and mom battled for America. Meanwhile, I took the poorly defended Africa and Australia for myself where Mom, Airelle, Robert and Michele all had poor defenses.
Once I had Australia and Africa, Mom had South America, Robert was out, Roy had Europe and Michele, Airelle and Mom were all spread out over Asia, and North America. Roy decides to attack Egypt from Europe. He loses a ton of troops, bringing both territories down to one guy each. He had out-numbered me but the dice had out-lucked him. So, I attacked back. A few turns later I brought him down to four men. Mom and Michele exchanged blows, Airelle took out most of my Mom’s troops. If we’d actually battled it out from there it would have left the youngins at the table. Roy would have been out with one more turn, and Mom with perhaps two or three more turns. I was declared the winner.
I had fun. It’s always fun to win of course, unless you win by pure chance, but I had carefully left everyone main forces alone and only taken territories that were practically abandoned. Roy accused everyone of letting me win, but I believe I won a partly diplomatic victory because of the territories I chose to attack. He attacked my main forces, so I bit back. I love board games.

Monday, November, 17th 2008 at 2:21am
Crusifer is asleep now. I’m not feeling to great about anything right now. I hope I spend tomorrow writing and feeling good.
I wish I wasn’t wide awake. Since they woke me up at 5am (they being my Dad, Mom and Brother who is in from out of town for a week) because well, my father was drunk, and Mom & Roy needed to get up to go to Albany for the arm-wresting tournament... I have not been on schedule. Crusifer woke me up at 10am the next morning, and then I ended up sleeping in until 4pm when Crusifer came back from work and announced that he wasn’t going to work because of how he felt...
Why did he feel so bad he couldn’t work? Because of the state of our relationship. And so what did we do? We talked. We “made up” in some small way. We laid down and listened to Mort Fertel for a bit. We went to sleep together feeling good. I sleep in again, until two or three today... Now it’s two-thirty in the morning and I’m wide awake. Surprise, surprise.
By the way, I’m being eaten alive by bed bugs and flees both. I found two dead ‘bed bugs’ at the foot of my bed about two weeks ago, and one crawling in the bathroom and another on my new kitchen’s sink. I killed those of course. We’ve had the flees for months now. Both Mary’s kitten and Serena had them. Mary and her kitten moved out, but the flees did not, despite putting treatments on Serena and kitten both.
One thing I don’t understand is why both are only eating me. It’s just another thing that I have to deal with that Crusifer doesn’t. Another ‘bodily’ problem that I have that no one understands because they’ve never been through it. We’re sleeping in the same goddamned bed and I have so many bites I look like I have chicken pocks, meanwhile he has zero. Not a single bite on him.
My parents don’t have them either. It’s just me. I’ve tried washing more, with more soap, but that didn’t help. I tried weird lotions, and that didn’t help. I’ve tried changing all the sheet covers and such all at once and taking a bath all in one day, and that didn’t help. Can anybody say bug bombs? Now can anyone respond with ‘broke’? Fantastic.

Tuesday, November, 18th 2008 at 12:13pm

“zhfzhsfgrharzfjuht,” Crusifer typed on my document. He said “you’d best wake up and press control z” he told me. He also set down a cup of steaming tea beside me. Then he turned on the bedside light and started talking to me and kissing me. Ah, I love to be waken up in the morning. So much easier than getting up myself.
First snow last night. I’m excited about that. I sip my tea as I’m writing this. I just got off the phone with Ashley, and Matt moments before that. I’m hoping we’ll go back to the beach today. It would be cool to see the beach with snow on it. I’ve never done that before.
In the two hours before we talk again and see if everyone is ready or not, I’ll be trying to get as much work done as possible. I hope to move my desk downstairs to use for crafts, and to get rid of the rug Mary put down in her bedroom of two years, my childhood bedroom of fourteen years. Roy is supposed to help we these things. I also hope to pull out the dresser my mom made me that I have not used since before the fire. It’s been in storage one way or another ever since then, and right now it’s kinda buried under a bunch of construction stuff next to the soon-to-be office in ‘the back.’
Sips tea some more.
I feel really good this morning, despite getting to sleep again at five o’clock in the morning. Today just has the feeling of a good day written all over it. Ah, I love being woken up. So much easier than convincing my sleeping mind that I should wake. The conscious me has to fight with my sleeping self, and the sleeping self invariably wins.
Finishes tea.
Well, I should get started. Roy and Mom shall be back in about an hour, and then we’ll work for an hour to two hours, and in two hours to three hours from now hopefully Ashley will drive Matt, Chris and I out to the beach again. That would be awesome.

Tuesday, November, 18th 2008 at 12:56pm

I just ate some cold chicken left over from last night. I need the protein right now since I’m trying to build muscle. I can’t go down to the floor and up again with good push-up stance at all, but I can get about a third of the way to the floor and back up again with a straight back twelve times now before I drop to my knees and do eight to ten of those. Two weeks ago I could only do two.
I’ve carried all but two of the desk drawers downstairs and cleared off all the wood and drywall from the top of sides of the dresser. It’ll be a bitch to carry that thing out of there though. It’s a narrow path to my room because of all the storage. I’m hoping we can just lift it over a few things, because if not I’ll have to do a hell of a lot of rearranging.
Also, I cleared off a bunch of things from the floor in my old bedroom, soon-to-be craft room to ease getting the carpet up as well. And took the trash down. And put Mary-Kay anti-aging face lotion on my face. Now I’m a little bit tired. Not really tired, tired, but you know, just a little in-need of a sit for a bit. I’m thinking of trying to add to my novel word-count for a while. Until Roy and Mom get back.
The only problem is, if they’re late, and Matt and Ashley and Chris really are ready at two-thirty, then I won’t be here to make sure things get done, or to make sure they get done right. It’s not even fair for me to leave the task to him while I go out and ‘play’ really. Even though I’ve already done most of the work I need to do for these tasks. What’s left is ‘man work’ as my mom might call it.
Speaking of man work, and working all day and such. Crusifer said to me last night, “god forbid you have to pick me up after a long day’s work” in response to an exasperated comment about having to wait for him for ten minutes after I got there. Funny thing about that is that he didn’t do any tattoos yesterday at all. He played video games all day at work because there is little business at this time of year.

Wednesday, November, 19th 2008 at 7:33pm

To anybody who is...
...drinking soda, buying food in bulk, driving drunk or tipsy, smoking weed more than once in a month, drinking alcohol more than once in a month, going out to a social event where the main attraction is to hook up more than once a week, not currently working on a hobby, hasn’t gone to college but could afford to, has over one-hundred pounds of fat added to the weight they should be, not recycling their trash at least on occasion, smoking cigarets, not exercising at least once a week, not outside at least once a week, ‘depressed’ just for the sake of trying to get attention, generally spending over fifty dollars a week on clothing, watching more TV than they are socializing with people that love them, not reading a book at least once in three months, not learning something new that isn’t gossip at least three times a week...
Stop. Being. A. Sheep.
Do you know what I mean when I say sheep? What do sheep do? They get herded in by a shepard. They get picked off by wolves. They cut their fur cut off. They get slaughtered and eaten. They do all of this without more than a “bah” of protest. Those are sheep.
Do you know who you are? Do you know what you do? You get herded in by the government. You get picked off by drugs, malnutrition, stress and ignorance. You give your taxes but don’t work to make sure they go where they should. You don’t vote. You get pushed from one job to another, from one relationship to another, a pushover who complains and pleads helpless. You’re a sheep.
That’s all I’d like to say. Just stop being a sheep.

Ashley (takemychains),
You’ll still have to read the entries for the full story of course, but the main reason for the abortion was that I wasn’t about to make a father out of a man who isn’t behaving like a husband much less a father. He’s barely being a decent boyfriend, and often, not even that.

Tater,
It’s a good question. If he hit me at this point I’d definitely opt out right away. At this point it’s more a matter of ‘if things don’t improve in the next couple months then we’re through.’ I’m giving him his last grace to change and at the same time preparing myself for the separation. Reminding myself that it’s not going to last. Crying my last tears for him, as few as they are already. Putting away objects that remind me of us. And so forth.
Fifi,
We don’t have carpets anywhere in my apartment, and the vacuum is broken, however, perhaps I should be sure to mop more often and change the sheets more often. That very well could be it. I need more bed sheets... Thanks for the advice. :)













Thursday, November, 20th 2008 at 10:57pm

It’s so difficult to hold it together. I’m so frazzled over Crusifer. I still want it to work, and I don’t know what my days would be like without him. Thinking about waking up without him, or waking up beside someone else doesn’t make me feel good at all. The only problem is that waking up beside him has become tedious a good half the time... We started arguing this morning about almost nothing. It was my fault, kinda. It’s that it’s hard not to let my bitterness seep through everything I do and say. I’m really trying to put one good last valiant effort into our relationship but I feel as dead as the baby that the doctors pulled out of me.
He wasn’t there for me. And I can’t help but hold it against him. True, he was almost there for me that day, but that’s about it. He’s making small efforts here and there, and as a person in general I think he is growing and coming to realizations. At this point it might very well be me holding our relationship back. I don’t even try because I’m so scared of being let down again.
He’s been gone since five o’clock... Six hours now. Hasn’t called me. I called once, and someone answered, and I heard someone, a female I think, say something in the background, and then he hung up. He’s supposed to be with his parents and brother right now... The woman didn’t really sound like his mom, but it could have easily have been a cousin or aunt. I don’t think he’s cheating. And if he was... I’m not sure how much worse it would really make anything.
I’m already second to his job... If I was second to another woman then I could probably just hate him and be done with this shit. I don’t even know what to say... Nothing in particular happened today that has me so down. It’s just... Life. Driving. Food. People. Love. Wants. Needs. Goals. Just everything. I feel like there is a weight on my chest, just pushing, pushing...
I might as well sleep. The internet is out. I can’t seem to muster up any desire to play a video game. I didn’t complete Caesar IV or Colonization. I’m just bad at sticking with anything but a man. I’m just bad in general. For all that I have ‘going for me’ talent-wise, I sure don’t have much going for me life-wise.
I wish I was in college. I wish I had two close friends I could go see at almost any time. I wish I had a man who cared about me too deeply to ever leave me crying, to ever want me to get an abortion, to ever say something to me in a harsh way... I wish my father wasn’t a dick head. Time will tell...

Thursday, November, 20th 2008 at 10:57pm
Tater,
I never considered the spices or baking goods, and even then, rarely do people need to buy those in bulk. I mostly was referring to people who buy huge bags of chips, or giant blocks of cheese and other such things. Either they waste most of it, or they're not healthy. It's rare that they have enough people in the house to really be spreading it over enough people to make it a wise and healthy choice. The other problem with buying in bulk in general is the bulk foods tend to be unhealthy in general (like I said, I wasn't thinking of spices) and when you have a ton of unhealthy food in your kitchen, then you're likely to eat even more of it than you would had you bought something else. That's what I was thinking about when I wrote that.

Tobi,
You didn’t say which of the three things on my list applied to you, therefor I cannot argue if you are or are not a sheep. I can say that Tater is not a sheep. Pretty much anybody who has backpacked around Europe, especially if they live in America, is not a sheep.

I’m not thrilled. I’ve decided I really don’t like the game risk. It’s literally half luck. Strategy in risk: where you place your guys, how many you place, where you choose to attack, how many times you choose to attack. Luck is risk: your starting locations, if you win or lose a battle, how often you get major reinforcements based on cards you draw. You see the flaw in this? And playing the game actually mostly consists of rolling the die. It’s gambling. I detest gambling.
I tried to call Crusifer again and didn’t get an answer. I really kinda hate him right now. Yes, he took out the thrash without being asked... He brought me tea in the morning. He spent a little bit of time giving me affection. But he hasn’t called. But he’s been gone all day. But we still have not resolved any of our problems. But he hasn’t done any of the things he promised to do. He did however admit to being a dickhead about promising to quit drinking over and over and not doing it. I’m amazed he admitted that really.
Amazed enough that I didn’t respond with, “naw, ya think?”
I’m ringing his phone again now. I see that he answered every text message he got this morning, despite the fact that we were talking. I’m going to call one more time just for shits and giggles. Then... I have no idea. Read? I’m reading a half-way decent book called ‘Species Imperative’ or something like that. No answer. He’s so... So... Argh!
So I’m signing on to AIM. And um... Freezing my fingers by being stubborn and typing some more. I wish I wasn’t so hungry. I suppose there is that apple to eat...