I’m crying idealistic tears of creativity.

Wednesday, June 25th 2008 at 5:09am

I glanced at a blog just now that had a six word memoir. It’s a challenge going around and I’d like to take the opportunity to take it on. I know for a fact that one of my six words needs to be “creative.” Hers was “many mistakes later I am laughing,” which is very clever, so I want to think of something really clever too.

Imaginative creativity applied to idealism leads to disappointment... But that’s too long. Idealistic creativity manifests deep dissatisfaction... But that is five words. I am crying idealistic tears of creativity. Drat, that’s seven words and I really like that one. Oh! I know!

I’m crying idealistic tears of creativity!

That’s my six word memoir. But, there are still so many things I wish to creep into it... I’m weeping in idealistic love and ingenuity. That is seven words, but I’d really like to actually say “idealistic love” now that I think about it, because so much of my life is centered around my ideals for love even though so much of my life is also centered around my creative whims.

“Whimsical creativity and idealistic love battle!”

I like that one too, but that one sounds like a phrase and not a memoir. I’m centered in dissatisfied idealistic love...

Okay, I’m not sure which I like best anymore. You knew I couldn’t write just one! Which probably defeats the whole purpose...

I’m crying idealistic tears of creativity.

Whimsical creativity and idealistic love battle.

I’m centered in dissatisfied idealistic love.

Idealist is understating my imaginative nature.

I could probably roll these out for days now that I’ve begun. It’s really quite addictive. I invite you all to try to come up with your own now, and do leave them in my notes or guest book once you’ve thought of them.

Wednesday, June 25th 2008 at 3:41pm

I feel sick to my stomach.

I must be missing something here... What on earth am I doing wrong? I feel like the more things I do “right” the more wrong I am. I’ve been having sex with Crusifer everyday just like he wanted, I even woke him up to morning sex. I dressed up the way he likes when we went grocery shopping. I gave him plenty of affection. I held him all night. I asked what he wanted to do. I offered to braid his hair, which he refused. I offered sex with him again, and he refused. I feel so rejected. I feel invisible. I keep touching his hair and hugging him and he’s not pushing me away but it’s as though I’m not even there...

I told him that I wanted to feel close to him. I kissed him the way he says makes him “melt” and even that didn’t do anything. I feel completely helpless. I could be asleep or reading my book right now and it wouldn’t make a difference to him and it’s burning me up. This is so stupid! I feel like it’s all my fault. I must have said something or done something... He’s never like this without a reason, although sometimes he himself doesn’t even know what it is...

I want to cry, and scream and throw a fit, but that would make me feel terribly immature and it probably wouldn’t help at all. When he ignores me like this I feel like anything I do is inconsequential. Like if I were to clean the entire room he probably wouldn’t notice... Heck, that’s a good idea... What would he do if I just began cleaning obsessively? Probably nothing...

I don’t understand how last night he was so happy, so loving, so full of kisses and consideration for me, and how I do all the same things he likes so much today and I’m nobody! It doesn’t even make any sense... I don’t feel like doing a god damned thing. I did want to watch a movie with him. I was hungry. I did want to play Pharaoh while he played Gears of War, I did want to work on reformatting all the card-files for the board game (which I accidently made in a low resolution... *cries*)... I even wanted to fuck him. I was content to braid his hair. I would have done anything he pleased, but since he turned down me doing anything now I don’t want to do anything...

I measure myself in what he wants from me. The more he wants from me (and appreciates from me) the more I’m worth. When he doesn’t want or appreciate anything of me, then I am nothing. At least I can understand that, but I’ll be damned if I can change it.

(Mentally I’m punching my monitor and feeling the glass break on my knuckles and watching the glass fly around and my knuckles are bleeding down my arm... I’m opening the window and watching to see if Crusifer notices. I burst into tears... I hang myself part way out the window, fall, fall... Darkness... No one is with me... Would I ever do such ridiculous things? No. That’s why I’m sitting here writing, dry-eyed and fidgeting like mad.)

I suppose I’m going to start cleaning now. I shall start with the fridge. It needs cleaning pretty bad.

Wednesday, June 25th 2008 at 4:40pm

Interesting. It’s been exactly one hour.

In that hour I washed out the fridge throughly, took out the trash, put away the laundry, cleaned up the clothing area in general (put all dirty clothes in laundry and all left-out clothing that was still clean away), fixed our craft table, rinsed the sink, took some things out to the compost, took a couple dishes down to the kitchen and washed my face while I was there, straightened up the craft-table area next to the bed, put away the water bottles and washed off the top of our snack-station on wheels...

In this time I also touched Crusifer twice to scratch his head and have spoken to him about three time. I’ve received no response, verbal, physical or even a glance. I’m so confused as to what he could be upset about. I know for a fact that if I ask that he will claim nothing is wrong. Oh yeah? Then why is it then he only doesn’t acknowledge me when he’s upset about something? Like, is that supposed to be a coincidence?

I wonder if this has to do with drinking. Retarded as that sounds... Friday he worked overtime and hung out with “barbie gone emo” afterwards with her “fine as hell” friends and got home at 4:00am rather blazed. On Saturday his cousins were in town so he hung out with them, gave on of his broke-ass nigga cousins $40, drank his ass off, got home at five o’clock in the morning and passed out. I couldn’t sleep so I went for an early-morning bike ride Sunday morning around six o’clock in the morning.

Sunday I allowed him to drink, grudgingly because I want him to decide that he doesn’t need it in his life once and for all on his own. He didn’t do anything “not nice” on Sunday, so I noted that if he asked next Sunday I’d allow it again. Monday I realized my period was going thin and decided to break the sex-fast early because I realized that I wanted it almost as much as he, and he was delighted. Tuesday, (yesterday) though he said it wasn’t necessary I had sex with him again, keeping to my word about every single day that I’m able...

(I need to learn to spell necessary. I spell it wrong every time and need to correct it. Ne Cess Ary... Ne Cess Ary... Ne Cess Ary! Necessary... Now, without looking... Necessary...! Yeah!)

And then, felling inspired, at six o’clock in the morning I woke him up to riding him, to his delight. We both were well satisfied and went to sleep afterwards. We get up this morning, and at first he’s all nice to me, and affectionate as he has been... And then we go to get groceries, and we hurried because Mom needed to car to pick up Dad so we had to be back before four o’clock. He was fine on the way there in the car I think... Though if I think back he seemed a little agitated then though I didn’t pay much mind...

In the grocery store he wasn’t as affectionate as usual... Then in the check-out lane as I’m trying persistently to get him to pay attention to me (I’m out in public in lingerie for goodness sakes, he could at least pay me some mind) and he asks me, “Can I get a couple beers today?”

I thought for a moment and I said, “but it Wednesday...” I said, a little uneasy by him asking again so soon. “But I’ll be good,” he said. I thought about that doubtfully since he was paying more attention to the magazines than me. “Yeah, but that would make three times in only four days...”

He frowned, “How is that?”

I sighed, “Friday you got home at 4:00am, Saturday you drank and got home at 5:00am, and Sunday I allowed you to drink... Can’t you at least wait until next Sunday?”

“How about I don’t drink Sunday then?”

I looked at him, angrily. Come to think of it, he’s barely spoken a word to me since. We road in silence most of the way home. On the way into the house I kissed him, and he said, “come on, let’s go,” instead of kissing me back. I was the one holding a bag of groceries when I leaned to kiss him, but he was empty-handed and didn’t reach for me at all. When we got upstairs I went to hug him and give him a kiss again, thinking surely now that we’re home and in our room he’ll stop being so distant, and I was completely wrong because he said, “It’s hot, I’m trying to take my clothes off.”

Disgruntled I waited for him to take off his clothes and then pulled him to the bed and pulled him down on top of me and kissed him again the way that he says he likes so much... I never used to kiss so much before him, nor did I ever do the things I do with him like sucking on the lips, and using my tongue in such intricate and deliberate movements... Nothing was working. He kissed back, in the most empty-hearted way and still didn’t touch me despite all of my touching of him.

At this point I’m completely desperate for affection so I’m grinding on him, and kissing him deeply and moaning... (Clearly that’s a sexual invitation!) And he pulls away and starts playing with his hair. Distressed, I asked, “Don’t you want me?”

“Want you how? You could mean a zillion different things by that!”

I rolled my eyes, “I clearly want to have sex with you. Why don’t you want me?”

“Maybe later,” he says.

At that point I’m on the verge of rage, but I turn around my approach and start touching his hair (since that is what he is doing) and then I go to braid it, since he requested that I braid his hair today. He said, “no don’t braid it.”

“Why not?” I asked, feeling worse and worse by the moment.

“I don’t want to walk around with my hair half-braiding looking stupid all day.”

I swallowed my anger yet again. (I probably should explain that I’m no good at braiding hair, but a few days ago I braided some of his hair for the fun of it, just to be taken out again in the morning, and his hair curled up in a way that he liked after it was taken out so I’ve been braiding it every night or so as far as I could get before my fingers hurt from the process. He says he enjoys how it feels when I do it and that he likes how it looks when he pulls it out, and it’s good practice and exercise for me.)

He doesn’t want sex, he doesn’t want to be groomed, he doesn’t want affection, he doesn’t want attention, and he also doesn’t want to give anything to me. What do you do with a person who won’t give or receive! And even now, at five o’clock now he’s sitting next to me, ignoring me entirely digitally painting. That’s all well and good that he is digitally painting, but come on. It’s been twelve hours since he last paid me mind at five in the morning when we had sex.

I’m beginning to analyze everything I can looking for an answer... Did I not thank him for the cup of tea he made me? I thought I said something appreciative of it. Is he this upset because he’s not drinking right now? Would he ignore me just because he’s not drinking! It makes me so angry and so desperate. I want to go buy him a goddamned drink so he’ll pay attention to me and I also want to smack him for being so silly!

I’m sitting here in this bran-new lingerie dress that is completely transparent with a transparent lace bra that he insisted I have when he saw it at Target, and I’ve been in it since I first woke. I even cleaned wearing it, and walked around Wegmans in it, and I’m still fucking invisible! It makes me so angry I could just burst.

I feel like if only I could do something more, or if only I said or did something differently today then he’d notice me. I’m so sick of being ignored. The rest of the world already ignores me for my age, or my sex, or my race, or my background. The last thing I need is for the center of my world to ignore me too!

It’s not bloody fair at all! I do anything he asks and all I want is some god damned affection and attention and I’ll be bloody damned if I ever get it for more than a couple hours here and there... I feel like half the time we touch each other is during sex, maybe more. I hate being nothing but a damned sex object. $60 groceries today, and sometimes they’re $100 a week, and now and then I get new lingerie and I give out all the services he wants! What am I? A cheap fucking whore?

My Socks vs. His Virtual Ring

Saturday, February 2nd 2008 at 10:00pm

Failure is what today feels like. I feel down and out. My boyfriend left for work this morning and I had a smile on my face, but right then, for some odd reason, I had this odd feeling that today was going to go very wrong, in such a way that I would most certainly not be smiling any more. Looking back, let’s see how right I was...

I spent the first hour and a half of my day after My boyfriend left (from 12:30pm to 2:00pm) making phone calls. I called Megan and Sara (two girls Arrin had meet me at the Boulevard Mall yesterday) and asked them if they were still interested in going to the Galleria Mall today. They said they were. They said they’d meet us there at three-thirty.

I called Tina, and didn’t get an answer.

I called Laura and she said she was out in Tonawonda with her boyfriend and couldn’t get a ride, so she wouldn’t be able to go, but she assures me that she’ll be at the meeting on Monday at six o’clock.

I called Amber and asked her if she was able to go, and if so, when. She said she was coming to my house at four o’clock after meeting up with a friend of hers, Pyro, nearby. I told her that was no good because we were supposed to be meeting Megan and Sara at three-thirty at the Galleria Mall. She said that was no good because the Galleria Mall security suck, and Arrin agreed with that. (Galleria Mall doesn’t even let minors in without parents.)

So I called Sara and Megan back and said we were going to the Eastern Hills Mall and asked if they could get there and meet us at four-thirty instead. They said sure, that’s fine.

So then I called Jasmine and asked her if she was coming. Jasmine said she needed a ride, and that she had one friend who wanted to come along. I said that I’d see if that was going to work. I asked her what she knew about the Eastern Hills Mall and she said that nobody goes to that mall and that we should go to the Galleria like we planned. I explained about the security and then asked about going the McKinley Mall then. And it seemed like the perfect plan because her house is on the way to the McKinley Mall.

So I called Megan and Sara back and told them about the change of plans, and they said that their father was going to be taking the car, and that they couldn’t come after all. I said I was sorry to hear that, and asked if they’d be at the meeting on Monday. They assured me that they would be.

I tried calling Tina again and she said she’d be at my house by four o’clock.

I called Amber back with the current plans and she said she’d be at my house at four o’clock.

Then at about two thirty, a mere half-an-hour after calling Tina, Jasmine, Laura, Sara, Megan, my brother Robert, my Mom, and Arrin, Angel shows up with his girl friend, Britney, and Britney’s cousin, and his own cousin. Four people added to the mix unexpectedly, three of which I didn’t know.

Meanwhile my Mom has gone to get the tire fixed because it had gotten a flat. Tina called me back and says she can’t go after all. Good thing too, because we wouldn’t have had room for her in the car anyway.

Amber and Pyro show up at four o’clock at the same time as my Mom. We pile into the car. Amber, Pyro and Angel’s cousin get in the back of the station wagon. Angel, Britney and Britney’s cousin in the back seat. Me in the front seat, and my Mom driving.

I used mapquest directions to get us to Jasmine’s house. Somewhere between my house and Jasmine’s house my stomach started to hurt, and shortly before we got to Jasmine’s house I realized that the pain was cramps and that my period was starting.

I wasn’t thrilled about this. Sure, it’s good that I’m not pregnant right now (though I’d like to be anyway) but it doesn’t change the fact that today I had too much to do to be dealing with pain.

Dressed in patterned-stockings (a pattern of holes like fish-net, but thicker like leggings almost) that were black. A short skirt from Hot Topic with a white and black plaid style. My boyfriend’s favorite shirt of mine with black lace around the bottom and top and a black and white striped design. A long-sleeved tight black shirt underneath. Black legging with patterned holes (similar to the stockings) over my calves with high-healed black boots. One of my spiked collars and a spiked necklace as well as a ring-connected-to-bracelet that I got at a Renaissance Fare. Black-lace hand-coverings, and My boyfriend’s spiked black hoddie as well as My boyfriend’s over-the-shoulder punked-out black bag. That’s too many accessories, too many people, and too much to do, for CRAMPS!

And on top of that, Jasmine comes out of her house with no one person, but two. Meaning three more people to fit in the car. One more in the back-seat, one more in the ‘trunk’ and Jasmine on my lap. I think Jasmine is hot and all, but I don’t want it bad enough to be excited about her sitting on my lap. It’s not like she’ll ever give it to me anyway.

So then we have to change the course that we drive because Mom doesn’t want to risk a high-way (much less tolls) with the car the way it was. So it took us longer than it should have to get to the mall. We finally get there and they all want to stop outside and smoke a cigarette.

In pain, and disgusted, and cold, I walked into the mall and found a bathroom, put on the one pad I just happened to have with me, complained inside my head for a few minutes, and then after another few minutes of pointlessly trying to primp myself in the mirror and to somehow also become more comfortable, I left the bathroom and found them inside.

Immediately we start losing people. Next thing I know I’m alone in the food court, dizzy, feeling like I got hit by a train, drinking a bottle of water. I spent an hour feeling like shit while Amber and others came and went in small groups. I gave them each a sign-up sheet for the Social Club and a writing utensil. I’m not sure I got everything back. I’m quite sure I’m missing at least one list, or at least one pencil.

I finally went into the vitamin store and bought a bottle of Ibuprofen and a mix of Calcium, Magnesium and Zinc. I took two from each bottle and waited. It was likely six o’clock before I tried to start promoting. At which time, Jasmine informs me that the security has told Angel to stop and everyone that was with Angel.

I got possibly four names on my list while I was in the food court. Then I went on an errand with Amber to return some items to Macy’s that I guess Arrin bought for some girl that didn’t want them. (I hate guys that try to win a girl with money, it makes me so mad.)

There were a number of difficulties and adventures just within that one hour that really are not worth documenting. There was another hour of difficulties involving getting a ride. There was a number of difficulties with everything, not the least of which being that everyone couldn’t stop goofing around. I tried to tell Angel in the beginning if he was going to be a part of this that he had to be serious. So much for that.

Saturday, February 2nd 2008 at 11:25pm

I’m just following directions. Even my own boyfriend hates me today. I feel like shit.

Sunday, February 3rd 2008 at 6:17pm

Today is going quite well. I woke up, and My boyfriend told me about his dream, and I told him about mine. We talked for a while. We fucked, even though I’m on my period, and it was pretty good. He enjoyed it. We cuddled. I decided that I need to stop hinting like most of we women like to do and just spell shit out. That’s what men want.

So I started to spell some things out this morning. I said to him, “Why don’t you be more sensual with me?”

Wednesday, February 6th 2008 at 3:00am

So I stole this ring from My boyfriend on Diablo II a long time ago. Like six or seven months ago I think. It’s a virtual ring that’s rare, but I’m still not sure how rare even now. We were trading with each other and our other characters in a private game and he dropped a ring called RavenFrost for his other character. It helps against poison somehow, but I forget how.

I thought to myself, this would help me stop getting poisoned all the time, sweet! I had only intended to look at it when I picked up, but then I compared it to the DwarfStar ring that I had on. Another ring My boyfriend had given me. Being that they were both rare rings, and that they both had come from My boyfriend (though one was given and one was not) I didn’t see the harm in trading them.

My boyfriend didn’t notice at first that I had taken it. Then when he realized he became upset. I didn’t realize how upset until it was too late to remedy the situation by returning the ring. He says that the ring made no sense for my type of character and equipment. I don’t understand the game well enough even to this day to affirm that myself. He considers this just as bad (if not worse perhaps) than stealing in real life.

This is going to seem irrelevant, but this is all working up to my point... My boyfriend wanted to go out tonight. Said that he was so tired that if he came home he’d go right to sleep, so therefor, he wanted to go to Adam’s house. Adam doesn’t live too far away, but the fact of the matter is, that it’ll be 11:30pm when he get’s to Adam’s house, and it’ll take him ten minutes to walk home at some point, and another half hour once he get’s home to get situated, bringing the time to 12:10am, and he’ll spend no less than an hour there, so I’d see him no sooner than 1:10am, and that was if he kept things short.

I argued that it didn’t make sense to go out because one was tired. Especially not to smoke some weed. Where is the logic in that? But that argument didn’t do anything for my cause, so I turned from logic to bribes. I offered a rub, and a meal, and kisses and sex. But that held no weight because I always do all of those things. What I don’t understand there is why those things are not enough for him to always want to come home...

So finally I said that he could pick up a beer if he came home. He said two. I sighed and conceded. So he gets home at 11:05pm, must have gotten a ride for that to happen. We go out in my Mom’s car and get two beers from Wilson Farms, (incidently two blocks from where he works.) We got back at 11:30pm, evening out to when he would have been home (with the beers) anyway.

He sits at his computer and plays Diablo II (which he’s recently started playing again, though I am likely retired for good) and I sit at mine and work on the Social Club Staff chart. This goes on for a while, and eventually I start working on my game design. He gets hungry and we head on downstairs and I make him eggs, just like I always do when he wants (even if it’s 1:40am in the morning) and while I’m down there I happen to look down and to my horror, he’s wearing my bran-new pink socks my mom bought me for Christmas.

Immediately a siege of images of Tre wearing my various pairs of socks throughout my relationship with him come to mind, and how my socks would have holes, and not fit right anymore, and be all stretched out and dingy after just one usage by him. I tried to maintain calm, knowing that I was mostly angry because of past memories. I calmly explained to him how his feet were bigger than mine, and how he’d stretch them out. I also explained how I didn’t wear my socks downstairs with no shoes or slippers. (I was wearing a much older pair of pink fluffy socks with black slippers over them.) I also mentioned that those socks were new, and that I hadn’t even worn them much yet, and that they were the only pair I had that went up to my knees, and that they were very warm, and I’d really not like them ruined.

He offered to take them off right away and I said not to do that, after all I wouldn’t want his bare feet to touch the frozen floor tiles in the kitchen. I’m not that cruel! After getting his eggs he rushed upstairs without waiting for me to butter my Rie toast. This clued me in to how upset he was about the whole thing. Ridiculous, really, I though to myself, to be upset because I pointed out a fact. It’s a fact that his feet are bigger than mine. It’s a fact that they will stretch out if he wears my socks. It’s a fact that they won’t fit me right anymore. And I didn’t even yell at him! I basically asked him not to do it again.

I believe he’s sleeping now. We got into a huge argument about it once I got in bed. He says that I shouldn’t care because I “didn’t even pay for them” which is a ludicrous argument. So I should ruin things just because I didn’t pay for them? How about I wreck my mom’s computer since I didn’t pay for it! How about I wreck his skater pants because I didn’t pay for those! How about I just leave the sink dirty and let it clog since I didn’t pay for that! Come on. So I told him that he wasn’t being logical and that it was probably due to him drinking.

He immediately takes this as me accusing him of being drunk. Drinking a couple beers and having your judgement altered is entirely different than be drunk, a. k. a. trashed. I think I know the difference, and I think that difference is important. And it’s silly for him to say that it’s not important when he himself constantly draws the line between the two. It’s the same thing when I say it, (“drunk, drinking, whatever” he said) but somehow it’s an important difference when he talks about it. Logic impairment, or what?

And so I brought up the RavenFrost ring. I took the ring because I didn’t feel it was that serious. I took the ring because I felt the same way he did about the socks. I took the virtual ring and didn’t think that it would be a big deal. He took my socks because he liked wearing my socks, and even admitted that he knew I’d be upset! I didn’t know he was going to be upset about the ring, I mean I knew he’d say something about it, but I thought I might just say I really wanted it, and that he might just let me have it. He explained to me that it was serious, (in a less than calm manor) and I tried to offer it back, but it was too late for that of course. Probably was half the reason I stopped playing come to think of it.

And guess what? He didn’t like my analogy. He says they are two completely unrelated things and can in no way be compared. My socks can be replaced for five dollars. His ring can’t. That really made me angry. So my one pair of knee-high socks that costs around five dollars than my mom gave to me as a gift on Christmas, which are new are simply not as important as a virtual ring? I understand the ring is rare, and that it’s principle, and that it’s essentially the same thing. I gave the virtual ring the credit of being on the same level as a physical gift that I really like and frankly need, and he had the nerve to tell me his rare and virtual ring was more important because of the time it took to get it.

Like as though he spent all that time playing the game just for that ring. As though it doesn’t take time and consideration on someone’s part to make that five dollars, to buy the socks, to keep the socks clean and like-new. As though my feelings are just not as important because his ring was rare. But you know what? I bet those socks aren’t still at Target. I bet I can’t just go and replace them. I bet getting those exact socks again would be really hard. And I bet he could simply play the game some more and end up with that ring again in the process.

And what makes me even more mad about it is the fact that he mad such an issue about it. I have gotten barely any attention since I got home, no affection (unless a peck on the lips or cheek counts) at all, and been bombarded with argument. I listened to him vent about his day, and his co-workers. I let him drink. I cooked him dinner. I let him play his game without complaint. I watched a show with him that we both like. I didn’t scream at him about the socks even though it was very important to me. I offered to rub him, though he declined. (I tried to do it anyway, but he wasn’t cooperative.) I even went to hold him even though he was being down-right rotten to me, and this is what I get?

For one thing, the ring isn’t relevant, because I thought we were forgiving each other for anything that happened before our one year anniversary on December 20th 2007. For another thing, I thought that we were going to stop arguing about stupid shit and be calm. And I really was being calm at first, but being called a liar (he told me I was lying about not understanding about the ring at the time) on top of being told that my socks were not as important as his virtual ring, and that I’m an ass-hole, and that he disliked me at the moment... How could I control the tone in my voice after all of that? After everything I just did for him!

I feel like he’s slowly going back on everything we agreed upon in the Love Contract. I thought we were long past petty arguments like socks. All he had to do was say that he didn’t mean to ruin my socks and that he wouldn’t do it again. Not that I know they are ruined per say, but they are undoubtedly loser and will wear out faster.

And then, on top of being sexist with me, which he always is. He was being racist too. Saying I was just being such a bitchy ass hole because I’m a white woman. He told me to think about this some more in my white brain. How insulting is that? I know he had a bad day, but come on, what do my socks and me being white have to do with each other? And if this is all because of two goddamned beers I used to bribe him to come home, then fuck it, he can go out and I can be sad that he’s gone.

What-the-fuck-ever. I’m sick of explaining myself over and over and over again. I’m sick of being logical, and rational, and honest and being called a lying idiot. I thought he had decided he was serious about being with me forever. I thought he trusted me. I thought he believed me. I thought a lot of things. I thought I knew what I should think.

Note to self: Write an entry about why I’m so touchy about my belongings.