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.
