Showing posts with label engage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label engage. Show all posts

Friday, May 9, 2008

Pros & Cons & Tattoo Shop on the News

Wednesday, May 7th 2008 at 8:55pm


Angel,

I've been thinking about you quite a bit today. I realized that you're the closest thing to a friend I have right now. You cared enough about what I was saying to look up the Gwen video and youtube and watch it. I don't think I know anyone else who ever has the time to care that much, and even if they did, they still wouldn't. I feel like the world is ignoring me. My blog readers are disappearing. My parents don't treat me like a kid, or pay attention to me like other either, and have stepped back to let me do as I please. Crusifer has so little time for me. I feel isolated. Though most of our e-mails from the beginning were me playing the older and wiser girl with more relationship experience, you were helping me as much as I was helping you. Being able to pass on my newly learned relationship experiences to you has given me validation and an added outlet for my emotions and even another excuse to write down my thoughts and feelings. And I think all women can identify with needing emotional outlets and excuses to write down how they really feel.

I feel really heart sick today and I'm not really sure why. I think I feel alone, but I'm not sure. But thinking about you makes me feel like someone out there cares. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate you writing me back time and time again, and keeping contact over so much time. Perhaps someday we'll really meet (and then runaway from everyone and start a new life somewhere far away from the mean, cruel world).

Love Phoenix



Wednesday, May 7th 2008 at 11:32pm


I want to stick a fork through his ear. I shouldn’t be too surprised. He can’t go one week without breaking a promise. He can’t go one week without saying I’m full of shit. He can’t keep one compromise for one week. He can’t quit drinking for me. I’m not worth it to him, and he’s starting to look less and less worth it to me. I had (foolishly) given him back his ring Sunday, way to early. I meant to take it back from him that night, but he was so delighted that I couldn’t. Now I feel like an idiot.

He hasn’t called once today. I called him three times in a row at 11:15pm and he finally answered on the third time. He sounded distinctly drunk. He told me he was already home (at least that was what it sounded like) and that he’d see me in a minute. I went downstairs and walked outside and he most certainly was not there. I called back about six times, no answer, just like the rest of the day.

Now I pretty certain that he’s been out, and not at work. That he didn’t come home to me like he said. Forget working on our office together as we had planned. Forget rejoicing about finally having a tub that works... Oh here he is.

Oh that makes me so mad. He walks in, grabs money, and waltzs back out without a hug or anything and he reeks of alcohol. My chest is vibrating so intensely I can damn near hear it. I want to crush his skull. It might not be officially over for quite some time, but I can tell, at the heart of it, it’s over. Clearly, his actions out-weigh his words, and his actions spell inconsideration, and a serious lack of compassion.

I’m too pissed to even be upset. Betrayed. How could I have given my heart to another ass hole? How could I have fallen in love with another guy who can only break my heart over and over? Is it so blissful to sit beside him drawing that I can endure this? In the moment of agony, who can ever believe there was ever happiness? Happiness is like a passing dream that you must wake from. And when in the mist of such blissful contentment, who can believe the past sorrows were anything but nightmares you had yet to overcome?

Is it better to balance my pain by remembering my happiness? And to balance my happiness remember my pain? Wouldn’t it be hypocritical to only remember happy times when you’re sad?


Thursday, May 8th 2008 at 2:00am


1:51am


Me: How is your life going?


Miruna: Rather well. Yours?


Me: Mine was going rather well and still is. All except for my relationship.... Which seems to be crumbling around the edges.


Miruna: Oh?


Me: You still with that girl you were with the last time I spoke to you?


Miruna: Yes. Things are going well. She has taken a position as a contributing editor in the local paper.


Me: That's awesome. I'm glad to hear your life is looking up, when we first spoke you seemed to be in a rough patch in life.


Miruna: Life is rough. But I am prepared for that roughness.


Me: Heh, I hear you there. I'm preparing myself for heart-break, falling in love and repeat. Since that seems to be my two year pattern. I'm at a year and a half right now. And I'm ironically feeling about the same way I did last time I was 1 year and a half into a relationship....
Miruna: Perhaps you should change the pattern.


Me: What? By leaving him six months early? Or by marrying him? Or by staying single and forgetting about men? By turning to women? (kidding, kidding... actually, I suppose I'm more serious than I actually sound... come to think of it.)


Miruna: How do you mean?


Me: I mean I'm seriously considering all of those things mentioned to break the pattern. I'm also considering the fact that this pattern might not be as bad as I think. I've learned a lot from each of these relationships. It's just the break-up that sucks. And I feel like I can't save this one, even though I'm still trying to.

Miruna: Do you want to save it?

Me: Yes, badly, but I feel like I want this more than he does. Either I want it more, or I just know how to show it more.

Miruna: Men generally need to feel useful and needed. This is not always convenient if someone cares about a man, but is independent and does not need anything. Ideally, people in a relationship should not actually need each other, otherwise one of them will eventually resent the other since they have little choice but to be together.
If you want to continue your relationship with him, you might find ways of either showing him how much you need him [if that's true] or hiding how little you need him [if that's true].

Me: He's just so unromantic. And on top of it, he's not the most talkative either. Even with so much in common it's hard to make a relationship without romance and more constructive conversation. >>I've tried showing him how much I need him, in fact, I couldn't help but show him because I get so emotional about everything. I thought things were improving ever since then, but today I'm not so sure. I think he's falling back on how much I need him, and using it as an excuse to not improve our relationship... But I'm not sure how to not need a man... It's a bad habit of mine...

Miruna: There are different ways to express need. Speech does not seem like his strong suit. Try showing him without words. Perhaps simply needing him for transportation might help, or 'getting a headache' or other minor ill that he could try to remedy. The point is largely to give him a goal to work towards, having him do something, and letting him know that it worked. Or, you could address your need for men generally. I do not need women. I enjoy the company and friendship of a particular woman, but if we could no longer be together, I would manage well enough, and would likely remain single until I found another person whose company I enjoyed.

Me: I think the other way around must be what this relationship needs. Because I do rely on him for my aches and pains and transportation... Perhaps my dependancy is unattractive to him on a subconscious level? He always says to me that he wants me as I am. It's really me who is dissatisfied with him I guess. And that's what makes me mad, is that I feel like I'm the one whose being cheated, and I feel like I put mor effort into the relationship.

Miruna: Unlike men, women want to see evidence of sacrifice, of someone giving something up for them. He does not seem to sacrifice enough for your preference. He might be unaware that you want him to sacrifice something, or if he is, he might not know how much you want him to sacrifice. Or he might simply be unwilling to sacrifice much. It seems that if you want to preserve your relationship under those conditions, you can do two things, and they are not exclusive of each other, so you should try both. Firstly, you could find a way to let him know both that you want him to give something up and that he hasn't given up enough. Words might be a bad idea for this, so find some other way to give him the message. Secondly - and this will be hard - you could find a way to reduce your desire for him to sacrifice for you. Then his current level of sacrifice will hopefully prove sufficient.

Me: I find it miraculous (and comforting) that you're telling me to take the steps that I have taken. I have told him all that i want him to sacrafice explicitly -- drinking is the main one. Also, I want him to keep his promises. He never does what he says he's going to do and this drives me crazy. I had proposed to him about six months ago, when things got worse about a week ago I took the engagement ring away from him. That got the message pretty clear. But tonight he did all the things he promised not to. On the second note though, you're right, that is really hard

Miruna: It is also guaranteed to work.

Me: I've considered that, and I have compromised with him to point where I feel like I'm cutting off my nose. I told him he could go out Fridays and Saturdays as long as he wanted, on two conditions, that he spend his day off with me and that he stop drinking. And he said that was fine, but hasn't stuck to it at all. Compromise is not what it seems. Compromise [where you give up something to get something] gets an unfairly good reputation because it sounds like it should fix everyone's problems, but it cannot. It just shifts problems around, make some big problems medium-sized, and some small problems medium-sized. It does not make things better.

Me: That is a really good point

Miruna: What works better is to state what you want, listen to what the other person wants, and work together to fix problems, not by giving things up, but by solving a problem. Not all problems can be solved, but it is better than breaking even.

Me: I feel like these problems shouldn't be so serious (because he's not getting drunk all the time or something like that) but the fact that he keep promising to completely quit for me, and then doing it anyway is so heart breaking

Miruna: That is not a problem. It is only a misstatement. He promises you not to drink. If he keeps his promise, he has sacrificed something for you, making you happy. However, on a basic, intuitive level, he does not care about giving things up for you because he does not see how giving things up could make another person happy. It would not make him happy for you to give something up for him. That gesture would not have meaning. It would be as though you told him he had very glimmish eyes. He does not know what that means, so he would ask. But in the language of sacrifice, he cannot form a question if you sacrifice something for him. He can only try to intellectually appreciate it.

Miruna: This sounds bad, but there is hope.

Me: I feel like the hope is floating away.

Miruna: As a man, he still wants to feel needed. He will not be able to translate your desire for him to drink less into a need he can fulfill unless there is a concrete step he can take to start.


1:53am


Me: You around?

Nathan: yes. Are you? [doom]

Me: How are you doin?

Nathan: I'm okay, I suppose. Except we had to have one of my cats euthanized the other day. Other than that, same-old/same-old

Me: You in Buffalo these days?

Nathan: Yes, as soon as everybody's figured out I'm in Buffalo I'll probably wind up going somewhere else again, but as of now I have no actual plans to

Me: I see. I'd say "let's hang out" but I have no idea what we would do. Probably talk for a long time.

Nathan: perhaps. Yeah, we could do that

Me: What do your hobbies include these days?

Nathan: Gaming, like always. City of Heroes, primarily

Me: Never played that. Not yet anyway. I've been playing FFXI as of late. Ever played Final Fantasy XI?

Nathan: No, haven't played any of them since 6 and the only one I liked was 3, but even that had a stupidly hard final boss that I never managed to beat

Me: I never played the old ones myself, lol. I'm not usually into the role playing scene. FFXI is only bearable because it's online with a ton of people. If it was offline I wouldn't consider playing it for a moment.

Nathan: Depends on whether the story is any good, for me, though game-play is important, too.

Me: I never like the stories

Nathan: You've just never played any with good stories. as a rule, Final Fantasy games have sucky stories, and so do MMORPGs. for that matter, the only ones that are really any good that I can think of are the Geneforge games and SepterraCore

Me: Actually, I do like the two thrones. That has a pretty cool story.

Nathan: for that matter, it would be nice if there were a better name for the sort of game where you participate in a story, as distinct from the sort of game where you actually play a role

Me: I know exactly what you mean. You have a girlfriend yet? Or are you just gonna play solo your whole life?

Nathan: Silly female, thinks getting a girlfriend is easy. well, it might be, if I decided to put any actual effort into it

Me: Well. No. Not easy persay. It does require effort. Of course, most of the guys.... Actually, all of the guys who have dated me never put any effort into it. I should make the next guy (if there is a next guy) work harder for it.

Nathan: Hmm-m-m. I'm much too passive. Too non-confrontational.

Me: I'm aware of that, lol. You got my virginity solely because I was so freaking horny, LOL

Nathan: a-yep

Me: That's completely worn off. I'm way to normal these days.

Nathan: That's good, I suppose

Me: Yeah, not useful though, now that I finally have a sex-maniac boyfriend... -_- It figures I'd finally get the nimpho after all my excessive hormones have worn off
Nathan: that would be a problem, yes

Me: If I had met him around the time we broke up... That would have rocked. And I would have ended up sleeping with a lot less guys. *sigh*

Nathan: good to experience many different people, though

Me: True. In reality, I wouldn't take any of it back (except for a few side-lays that were totally ... yucky) because each relationship that lasted a couple months or more taught me a hell of a lot

Nathan: yes, given the chance, I'd take a do-over on my last relationship, but that's about it

Me: Oh yeah? What was your last relationship like?

Nathan: well, put it this way: she was perfect, except almost every word that came out of her mouth was a lie, so until I discovered that, and for that matter for some time afterward, I was in love with her.

Me: That sucks. :(

Nathan: yes

Me: The guy I have now ought to be perfect, but he can't keep a promise. Or stick to a compromise, or stick to anything at all. Well, he managed to work everyday, it's just sticking to things with me that he can't do

Nathan: Well, you're demanding that he change, and I've never known people to actually change when told to. spontaneously, yes. because they want to, sometimes, once in a blue moon. because somebody else wants them to? never. but that's just my experience. your mileage may vary

Me: I've seen people change, but more due to heart break than due to love. Tre changed dramatically when I dumped him. And I changed dramatically when Jeremy dumped me. And from what Crusifer says he changed a lot after Brianna dumped him

Nathan: well, maybe when I say 'spontaneously' I really mean 'unpredictably'

Me: Well I've come to think of changes brought about by break ups as very predictable.

Nathan: do people always change in the same way when broken up with?

Me: No, they don't

Nathan: but that wasn't what I originally meant by 'unpredictably', but I'm willing to pretend it was. a nasty breakup with somebody they love, okay, that's a catalyst for change

Me: Yeah, the being heartbroken is key, not the break up it self


2:30am


Miruna: Try telling him you would like him to drink only [some given amount] of alcohol during some period of time. The smaller the amount and the shorter the period, the better. Make sure the amount is an amount he will think of as 'not enough'. Then bargain until he agrees to drink some amount that is less than he drinks now, but close to what you would actually like. Again, the initial amount should be very small, so you can bargain up to something reasonable. Then, the first time he follows his agreement, tell him how very proud you are of his achievement. That is an important word, 'achievement'. Not what he has given up for you, but how he has succeeded. Not how happy you are with his reduced drinking, but how proud you are that he succeeded.

Me: Initially I was against doing something like that, but I tried that out of desperation some months ago. We agreed on no more than two beers. But I have not been able to get him under two beers. But I suppose the important part of that would be telling him how proud I was of his success. Instead all I did was focus on how I wanted him to quit entirely...

Miruna: Why should he quit entirely?

Me: Because he acts like a moron when he's drunk, much worse than most people. if he drinks more than two beers he loses his memory of what happens completely and he gets violent and angry. After the first half beer he is agitated, and easy to annoy, and then starts trying to make me have sex with him, which would be fine if he was sober... But I hate having sex with him when he smells like beer. And he acts very odd and unattractive after he has been drinking. He repeats himself and loses all ability to be rational after a beer and a half. And besides all of that, a year ago I made it clear to him I would not marry someone who drank at all, so now it's partly principle to insist that he quit. What can I possibly do from here? If I just accept things as they are... I'm not sure if I'll be better or worse off.

Miruna: Perhaps you should ask yourself some questions. These questions are not advice or criticism. They are to help you make certain you understand the root level of who you are and what you want in life. You do not need to tell me the answers because they are for you. Why do you want to marry? Whatever the answer is, ask why that should be so, until you have the most basic cause you can reach. Why will you not marry a person who drinks? Many people drink and behave themselves well. Would a well-behaved drinker be less desirable than a poorly-behaved non-drinker? How poor could a person's behavior be and still be good enough to make them more desirable than a well-behaved drinker? Why is your principle so important? Could your initial principle have been mistaken? Or could it have been appropriate at the time, and no longer appropriate now? And why follow principle if it does not make you happy, and it would harm no one to ignore principle?

Me: Are people more intelligent in Japan or something? No one I've spoken to has been able to talk to me so intellectually about this before. Those most certainly are all the right questions, and I will have to consider each of them for a good deal of time before I can answer anyway. :)

Miruna: In the meantime, from your description, his behavior is not that of a normal person. He might have a medical condition, such as a weak liver. Here in Japan, drinking is a national passtime. Some people here have weak livers. They usually count themselves lucky because they know that they have weak livers, and they can get enjoyably drunk from just a single beer. They do not push their limits, even though that limit is low. Other people need much more alcohol to get drunk, and so they drink more. He might simply need to find his boundary.

Me: Well, three beers is most certainly when the memory thing happens

Miruna: Well, those questions are just related to questions I ask myself all the time. I'm training to become the new Systems Analyst here, and one of the most essential tasks [perhaps the most important of all] is to ask a chain of questions until you can gain no new information.

Me: And everyone here drinks too. It's not just in japan, lol

Miruna: Believe me. Americans have no idea what drinking is.

Me: I love asking myself all the tough questions. Most people can't give me a question I have not asked myself yet, but you just did.

Miruna: I hope they help.

Me: I think I want to marry mostly because I want kids and a family of my own. And I don't want the father in the family to drink not just for me, but for the children's example

Miruna: At any rate, his behavior while drunk is troubling. Alcohol cannot ever actually be a motive. 'That is just the beer talking' is nonsense. Instead, that is the beer stopping someone from closing their mouth when they normally would. So, his behavior while 'drunk' [and I am not sure if he is in fact drunk] is likely a display of how he would behave if he was not concerned for the consequences, for example, you ending your relationship with him.

Me: Which would imply that deep down he thinks very little of me and of life and of everyone

Miruna: A possible explanation might be that he is not in fact drunk [though he might think he is], and he wishes to behave a certain way without having to be thought of as responsible for his behavior. So, pretending to be drunk [and perhaps thinking that he is drunk], he behaves as he pleases, and lets others assume that he is only acting as he does because he is drunk. You can see this behavior in people to whom you give fake drugs when they expect they have taken a real drug. This is why drug trials need to use placebos: if you need to test a drug's effects, you also need to test the drug against a 'drug' that does nothing, but convinces the patient that it does something.

Me: Hm. That's a good thought. I wish I could get him fake beer.

Miruna: You could.

Me: When he actually gets drunk - like when he's past three beers he becomes outright dangerous and scary... He peed on the floor deliberately one time while drunk. He claims not to remember anything that happened that night at all. I could?

Miruna: Yes. They make non-alcoholic and low-alcohol beer in America.

Me: Hm. I'm already talking about 5-8% beers. *sigh* I'm not sure a non-alcoholic beer would really trick him though, since alcohol itself has sucha distinct flavor and feeling.

Miruna: Well, some non-alcoholic drinks are very convincing.

Me: I suppose if I could find one, and then let him think that I'm letting him drink that it might answer a couple questions and solve the problem at once

Miruna: Sorbitol, for example, tastes like alcohol because it is a kind of alcohol. It just does not get a person drunk.

Me: I've read that on a lot of labels before

Miruna: Have you ever known him to drink more than five beers consecutively, or drink some other drink that should be as strong as five or so beers?

Me: It's used in all sorts of drinks

Miruna: It is. It often convinces people on a pre-rational level that they are enjoying a 'big people's' beverage, even if there's no alcohol.

Me: No, he can't handle anything harder than a beer, he'll become drunkenly lost within half an hour with anything stronger than a beer. The time he peed on my floor he had eight beers.

Miruna: Well, try giving him the non-alcoholic beer, or give him low-alcohol beer and see if it takes him longer to change his behavior.

Me: I will try. But somehow I just feel that if we do get this alcohol thing out of the way that we'll find a deeper problem in our relationship. Either that, or the beer is causing a deeper problem.

Miruna: Well, while the beer cannot cause a 'deeper problem', I think you are right that something else is underneath the beer issue. I think it is likely that he likes getting away with things you would not normally tolerate, and as long as he can get away with this behavior, he will be satisfied. But if this behavior is something that no right-thinking person would permit, then you are fully justified in expecting to not need to put up with it.

Me: That's the really tough part. None of his friends mind how he acts when he is drinking/drunk. It's only me that it bothers, but that's because I'm sober, and they're always drunk. At least, I think that is why.


2:30am


Nathan: growing and learning and gaining experiences (of which heartbreak is perhaps a subset) can also cause change. biological changes resulting from adolescence/puberty/growing cause mental change, but that ends once you stop growing

Me: Right

Nathan: but my original postulate remains: people don't change because their significant other wants them to

Me: My grandfather quit drinking for my grandmother

Nathan: fine, throw a counterexample at me why don't you. [considers] Well, the changes you want from Crusifer seem to be pretty sweeping. You seem to want him to abandon his friends and his entire lifestyle in favor of a new lifestyle centered around you. One thing at a time might be more doable.

Me: True. Which is why I offered to him to go out twice a week but to quit drinking. But he hasn't stuck to it at all

Nathan: out of curiosity, do you (or have you tried) allow him to come up with compromises on his own that he thinks he could follow, or do you come up with them and then just get him to promise to abide by them? maybe that's not purely out of curiosity, maybe it's also a suggestion if it's not already your policy

Me: I tried getting him to come up with his own ideas, but he wouldn't. So I just suggest them and ask if they are acceptable

Nathan: This may be key. Probably not, but maybe. He's probably the best judge of what he can realistically abide by, so when you try to get him to come up with a compromise he can live with, he comes up with nothing because there is no compromise he can live with. When you come up with them, perhaps he agrees to them with the intention of honestly trying and then he simply fails to live up to his promises because he made promises he cannot keep.

Me: That pretty much sums it up I bet. He doesn't really want to quit, though sometimes he says he does.

Nathan: He probably wants to want what you want, that is, he wants to want to quit, but he does not actually want to quit.

Me: That makes sense

Nathan: So he promises because of that, but to quit things like drinking or whatever, you have to genuinely want to quit, not just want to want to quit.

Me: Exactly. Like sex, you can't just want to want sex, you have to want it

Nathan: much of what I know about addictions I learned from Infinite Jest, which would have you believe that to break an addiction, you have to have been completely destroyed by it and to need to quit with every fibre of your being. It may not need to be that drastic, but the principle is the same.

Me: I agree. That's what it took for me to quit drinking and smoking weed

Nathan: Right. So we've diagnosed the problem, but there may not even be a solution.

Me: Especially since he's down to drinking little enough that he feels that it's not a problem

Nathan: Right

Me: That's why I'm in such a quandary. It's like either give up (leave him) or give up (stop caring).

Nathan: Sometimes giving up is all you can do. Unless there is some way to make him want to quit for himself, but that probably falls back under the 'change that is unlikely to happen barring outside catalysts' category

Me: Precisely

Nathan: On the one hand: when in doubt, stick with him, you might be able to tolerate it after all and if you dump him you won't get another chance. On the other hand: if in doubt, it's probably not perfect so you should dump him before you pour too many resources into him and find somebody who is perfect. On the third hand: There's no such thing as perfection. I mean, statistically, out of seven billion people, it is extremely likely that there is at least one person who is completely perfect for you in every way, but even if you met a new person every second, it would take 221 years to go through 7,000,000,000 people. If my calculations are correct, which they may not be. And obviously by then the entire original batch will have died and been replaced several times over by much larger new batches! also you're unlikely to live that long, but that's a piddling little concern. I think I have gone somewhat off-message. Too bad I can't remember what the message originally was.

Me: Who cares, I'm laughing. I like laughing. And I meet a new person like once a month.... That's only 12 a year

Nathan: More often than I do, but at that rate that's half a billion years. The earth will probably last that long, though humanity probably won't

Me: heh heh


3:00am


Miruna: Lucky for you, you do not need to worry about whether you are overreacting.

Me: I don't?

Miruna: Unfortunately, he must either no longer want to behave this way, or you must not see him anymore. That may sound unnecessarily extreme, but think about it like this: He likes behaving a certain way. Whether it's because he is drunk or whether he pretends to be drunk for an excuse, he still likes to behave this way. You do not like this behavior.
His desire to behave in this way is unsatisfied if he behaves as you want him to, but you will not be happy if he behaves the way he wants to. People always find ways to get the things they want, if they want them badly enough. He wants to behave the way he does badly enough to risk you leaving him, even though he takes steps to keep you from wanting to leave him. He is walking a fine line, in other words. If he keeps walking this line, you will not have what you want [freedom from this behavior] and he will not have what he wants [the freedom to behave as he pleases]. So he can either change his desires [NOT his behavior], or you can change yours. Or you can leave him. Any other arrangement will be 'compromise', which we have seen is unsatisfactory.

Me: I see your point perfectly. You think I should explain it to him the same way?

Miruna: Unfortunately for both of you, changing one's desires is hard. It often involves a change in awareness, which usually requires unlearning something.

Me: Unlearning typically being harder than learning

Miruna: Absolutely not. Not unless you can either use exactly the words I have [see how I never said anything was anyone's fault?] or unless you want to deliver an ultimatum to him. Ultimatums are rarely helpful, and an ultimatum will not induce either of you to change your desires. So what was the only other option? See why explaining this would be bad?

Me: I see what you mean. Perhaps opening a dialogue with, "I think one of us needs to change our desires in order for this relationship to satisfy both of us."

Miruna: Worded differently, that might be a start. But you have to word it differently. "One of us" will sound to him like "You". But, if you can strictly use language that does not assign blame or responsibility, you still have to be careful. He will want to know why he should even change his behavior in the first place. What evidence do you have that his 'drunk' behavior is abnormal, and what justification do you have for not wanting to tolerate such behavior?

Miruna: Also, why should he change his desires? Why shouldn't you change yours?

Me: Well, too late for me not to say those things. I've already tried the "you drinking makes me miserable" and "you should quit because I feel like you are choosing drinking over me which makes me feel worthless"

Miruna: I do not mean that you should not say you dislike his behavior. I only mean that you should have a reason that either convinces him, or at least shows him that you are so convinced that he cannot argue it with you.

Me: I'm sure I can get him to agree to almost anything in words, but how can I make him translate his words into his actions? I wish I could get him to stop agreeing and promising things if he's only going to not follow through time after time

Miruna: He likely either thinks that you are overreacting, or that your reaction does not matter. I cannot guess which one he thinks, so be careful in your reasoning.

Me: Probably a little of both, but more so on the overreacting

Miruna: Well, you are right. Sound arguments only go so far. However, his actions seem to stem from his desires, which is typical of most actions. He may have conflicting desires, and which ever desire or cluster of desires is strongest at any given moment will likely govern his behavior.

Me: He says to me "why does it matter so much?" pretty often. Ah - that's the key - the given moment. At that given moment he desires the drink, and forgets about me, perhaps? Forgets his promises conveniently? Or perhaps I just want to think that.

Miruna: Please wait a moment.

Me: Sure, I'm beginning to actually get tired. It's about time, being that it's 3:30am

Miruna: I do not think it is a conflict between his desire for alcohol and his desire for pleasing you. I suspect he may have a desire to express power. He likely also has a desire to continue to express power in a meaningful way. He likely does not consciously recognize either of these desires, even though he has them.

Miruna: If his priority is self-interest, he will behave as though his priority is NOT self-interest, to the extent that it benefits his self-interest. So he is as kind as he needs to be.

Me: He doesn't like to recognize his emotions much in general. It's amazing he's come far enough to admit that he "needs" me. I think I've made him depressed with all my antics lately, which may be partly the cause for his actions today. I suppose a bigger hurdle than the drinking is that I really don't know how he really feels. I've assumed that it is a conflict between me and the beer, but you're right, it probably isn't about the beer or me. Since he's an artist, and he has a very slender and small frame for a man expressing his manliness can be hard for him. At least, he thinks it's hard. No one really doubts his masculinity but him. That is, if he indeed does doubt it? Perhaps he just feels the need to show power like you said... Not because he thinks he lacks power, but he thinks other people don't know that he has power...

Miruna: Or because power is fun. Which it is. There are different kinds of power, only a few of which involve inconveniencing or harming people, and only a few more that involve people at all. But they are all necessary to our psychological well-being. Apparently, he does not derive enough enjoyment out of his power as an artist, so he seeks and exercises power in other ways. If he does not reorient his priorities [such as the happiness of people other than himself, justice, reasonability, et cetera] he will behave as he does now.


Friday, May 9th 2008 at 9:25am


I think I may have overreacted Wednesday night (in the wee early hours of Thursday). I thought Crusifer had left work early and gone to hang out with his friends. Turns out that he stayed after work and (according to him) smoked half a bowl of weed and “sipped” on one beer. I can’t blame him for not calling me the hectic happenstance of some idiot tattoo artist who doesn’t follow hygiene regulations that are to prevent customers from getting HIV, hepatis and other blood spread diseases. The man lives in Niagra Falls and claimed to work for Hardcore tattoos (which he doesn’t now, and never has) on the six o’clock news!

Channel two, four and seven news all broadcast this to all of western New York without checking the sources! So of course all sorts of people come to the shop and start cursing them out. The owner is up in arms, and calling the news stations. The employees are confused and discuss the matter in depth and discover that no one that works there has ever even met the guy once. The news stations (all the three of them) come to the shop after the insistence of the owner and they interview the owner and employees. They show this on the eleven o’clock news which is all well and good, but who watches the news twice in one day? Hardly anyone!

They actually interviewed Crusifer, but only the owner’s interview (about two seconds of it) was put on the air. On top of this El (according to Crusifer) was being an ass-hole (probably due to his recent issues with his girl-friend Connie which I heard about also second-hand from Crusifer in vaguest of vague detail) and calling Crusifer a sucker or a pussy or something for not coming out to hangout with them. Which, by the way, he’s been not doing by choice since I told him he ought to go out on Fridays and Saturdays... (Oh wow, I just noticed it’s a Friday, not that he’ll go out, I understand his patterns better and better.) Instead, he stays at work once a week to smoke a blunt (and to sip a beer – though he still claims that he is going to quit and that he wants to quit) and doesn’t call me.

I’m not sure how I feel anymore. I’ve swung back and forth between being royally pissed, blissful happy, utterly disappointed, to completely contented too many times to know how I really feel. The pros are so large, and the cons are so unacceptable.

One large pro I realized this morning is how wonderful it is to wake up to a cup of tea, kisses, and then to be pulled out of bed, brought into the bathroom, and kept company while I brush my teeth and wash my face (and take my morning piss). I also realized how hard it would be to train a new man to do such a thing. Getting to sleep and getting up have been difficult for me since I was nine. I’ve used everything from night lights, to sleep assisting pills, to alarm clocks, to stuffed animals, to morning meals, to men and to sex, (and believe it or not about three times as many more techniques) to get myself to sleep and to get myself up.

I hate both. I love sleeping. It’s just getting to sleep that is so blasted hard, which is almost as hard as getting up.

But anyway, the point I detoured from is that Crusifer was under a lot of stress. He’s afraid for his relationship with me, and with his friends and with his career all at once. I tried to be understanding, but I was so miserable, and so afraid for my life, and so focused on my needs that I couldn’t see through the fact that he wasn’t drugged up, he was on the verge of tears and falling apart all over the place.

I didn’t return him his ring this morning when he noticed that it was gone again. I felt so bad after having such a good morning, and right before he leaves he goes to put it on and it’s not there. I could feel his heart fall into his stomach. I wanted to present it to him right then and there. I didn’t. But I considered it. I need to wait though, I’m being to impulsive. I take every little action as a big sign, and that probably isn’t a good thing. Calm is good. How come I act so calm and feel so scattered?

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Together Forever?

Tuesday, April 29th 2008 at 2:37am


Boredom comes from not being obsessed with something. I wish I was obsessed with something. I want to be obsessed with something creative, productive, engaging, and skill enhancing. I guess that’s a bit much to ask though, isn’t it? I’ve gone back to working on my computer-game-design, but it’s not very engaging. There is nothing exciting about it. It’s just a bunch of text and concept art. Tables, and descriptions and stats aren’t very easy to be obsessed with.

Crusifer isn’t here often enough for me to really obsess over him, and even if he was, he never wants anything. I could shower him with affection, attention, and doing what he wants to do, but it hardly makes a difference to him at all. I mean, he’ll notice, but he’ll say “it’s nice and all, but not really necessary.”

I have anime music blasting through my headphones right now, so that I don’t have to hear the music emitting from Crusifer’s headphones. He’s drawing, looking adorable as he does so. He’s drawing a chick out of a magazine for “anatomy practice.” This is something he does periodically, usually filling an entire page with random sketches. I don’t have the type of drive to do something like that. I’m all about a finished product, when the finished product is disappointing or long in coming I tend to have a habit of quitting.

I suppose that’s one reason why art appeals to me. Why ever quit a picture? It won’t take that long to finish it. And, it’s more appealing to look at every moment that you work on it (to a degree).

I’d like to complete this computer game design and submit it to a company... After some research on how that’s done. How do you submit something without them just stealing the ideas they want and then rejecting your proposal? I know there are ways, but of course I don’t really know much about it. Copyrighting your work and such. It would be nice if they would steal the entire thing and do it just the way I outlined it, but more likely they’d steal several key ideas and dump the rest, and then I couldn’t even prove they ever “stole” anything.

Anyway, say I could submit it without it being stolen, then there is fact that they probably won’t even give it a second glance because I have no degree or work experience in the field. Yet, there is a chance someone might look at and take in the uniqueness of the ideas presented, and see that there is a good sized market for such a game. But that chance will hang in impossibility without a complete design to look at.

I won’t consider the design complete until all aspects of the game are covered, all races, all items, all spells, all functions, all abilities, all disciplines, all realms and terrains, and maps and so on. I’d like all the concept art to be all complete too, but that’s a lot of concept art. The interface design is not a problem for me, but the concept art is really more than I could hope to accomplish. Crusifer and I together could probably do all of it, but relying on Crusifer for something like that (I’ve learned) is folly.
There is no point in asking myself if it is worth it or not to complete the design, because it most certainly is even though the chance of it ever being used for the template for a real game is slim. If but nothing but for my pride.

There is also the chance of putting together a team to design it with me with an agreed about of percentages of payoff (if and) when there is one. My major issue with that is how low quality the game would be if I managed to do that. Saga clearly took a very long time in the making and it’s coding is clearly crap because the load times are terrible for a game with low graphics and small playing fields. This leads me to believe that they have the inexperienced coders as well as average-joe modelers. And while Saga’s game concept is very good, the whole game (as it is now) doesn’t have draw after a certain point in the game for the economical strategist. I want this game to be made much more professionally.


Wednesday, April 30th 2008 at 12:06pm


I’m getting that sick to my stomach feeling again. I get it every time I start to believe that Crusifer and I might not be... Good for each other?

He said to me last week (and has written on several occasions) that he wants to quit drinking. This morning he said that he doesn’t want to quit. I think it’s over, that’s what I think. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon enough. As fast as life flies by it’ll be over and in the past before I can really comprehend why.

What happened to all of his talk of forever? What happened to all of mine? He’s not willing to budge an inch for me. Well, I guess a few inches. I don’t have enough time with him to prove my points to him. I don’t have enough time with him to really understand him, to really understand where our relationship stands.

He hardly ever admits to changing his mind, or tells me that he has changed his mind. It’s always “well I think...” or “I feel...” about whatever it is, and it’s almost always different than the last time. I don’t think I know him as well as I thought I did. I don’t think he wants this as bad as I thought he did.

In the middle of February, when I was the most happy with this relationship if he had threatened to break up with me I would have bent over backwards to change his mind. I would have given up anything, picked up anything, given him more freedoms, done anything but feel the heartbreak surely to come. I see so much of myself in him that I expected him to be the same way. I thought if I expressed that I felt it wasn’t working... If I told him I was having second thoughts... If I made it clear that his actions were upsetting me, depressing me and pushing me away... I thought if I told him those things that he would suddenly be a panic to keep me, the way I would be and have been over him.

I was sorely wrong.

He barely seems to care. I want to say that this is because he hardly shows any emotions, but perhaps it’s because he doesn’t feel things. He says things like “I’m human too you know” but how can I remember that when he hardly shows it?

I don’t believe that I’m not crying right now. That shows how close to the end it really is. I’m already starting to accept my heart cracking down the center. I’m already beginning to accept that I need to find a life outside of him. I’m already accepting the fact that I have to be independent... Some part of me (that I don’t know to well) is preparing for it, some part of me that is wiser than the part of me that has control.

How can I leave him? He’s a good man. He is. He’s a beautiful artist. He’s beautiful in general. He makes good money with his talent. He has worth while goals. He has stamina. I want to say he’s passionate, as I’ve said before, but I’m not sure that word applies so much anymore. I see it more and more as lust and not passion. Passion implies emotions, and deep emotions at that. Oddly I see him more and more as a less emotional being, and more robotic and cruel.

Why do I see that? It’s not even a logical assertion! He’s not violent (like Tre was), he’s not messy (like Tre was), he’s not a drug dealer (like Tre was), and he is logical (like Tre wasn’t)... Or is he logical? I’m having trouble with that one these days too. So have I just scratched off passionate and logical with one blow? That certainly is a lot. If I scratch those off it’s a lot harder to make a good case for him. Have I deluded myself into thinking he’s more than he is?

He did buy me a laptop. He does give me incredible orgasms. Why don’t those things matter in the face of how he speaks to me? I’m so word-oriented. I keep believing his words. Perhaps out of spite for him not believing mine?

I want to sink into being suicidal. I want to declare that my life is over!

I also want to be more mature than that.

So is maturity... Break up? It’s tempting in the way that I wouldn’t have to keep trying to work it out. It’s tempting in that there would never been another screaming fit. Christ! When did breaking up with him become tempting? My love, my future, my plans and attachments are slipping right through my fingers! I’m standing in sand. I’m in quicksand. And I’m sinking, sinking, sinking... Sinking out of love with him?

I feel the beginnings of tears. I don’t want to cry, oddly. I usually can’t wait to cry when I feel like this. Just get it out you know? But I know once I start to cry the little negative voices will chirp up. The ones that say things like, “this is all your fault,” and “it’s because you’re ugly,” and “if you weren’t such a retard, like he said,” and “if you weren’t such a needy baby,” and “you just don’t love him enough,” and “if only you’d just let him drink,” and “maybe you can settle for less,” and “maybe if you change and adapt enough you won’t feel this way,” and “maybe if you were more considerate,” and “maybe if you lost weight,” and “maybe if you gained weight,” and “maybe if you had sex with him more often,” and so on, and so on, and so on!

I’m trying to be rational here. If I keep being rational I can hold those thoughts at bay. Why is this really happening? It’s because I have needs that he can’t satisfy. I want a companion, for several hours a day, (preferably more, but three or four is a good minimum) that will give me affection, talk to me, kiss me, possibly sleep with me (at least once a week, preferably two to five times) and tell me how wonderful I am, (while I tell them how wonderful they are) who will work with me on a project (the actual content of the project not being half as important as the fact that we’re doing it together) and then another project and then another over time and years, who will comfort me if I cry, who will care for me (instead of saying I’m a pussy, or that I’m weak, or that I’m being a typical woman), and who will make me feel special. And at least one day out of the week, (really the minimum is more like two days a week, I guess I made an exception for Crusifer) spends time with me all day long, where we might go out together, where we get dressed together, brush our teeth together, hold hands along a nice walk, wash each other’s faces, take a bath together, clean each other’s toe nails, scratch each other’s heads, watch a good movie, draw together, read together, write together, play video games together...

That’s what I want, most simply put.

He has needs that I can’t satisfy as well. He wants to listen to loud rap music. (It has to be loud, it has to be rap.) In the future he hopes to have his own room far away enough from mine where he can blare his music loud as he wants. (He’ll never understand that I can’t stand it no matter what I say. He won’t believe it. I’m just being a pussy after all. (This is a moment where you’d think I roll my eyes, but rather I’m too upset to stop staring blankly at the screen.))

He also needs his friends. This one is hard to argue with really. Everyone has friends. Everyone but me. And at this point in my life it’s actually my choice. Perhaps I’m so used to not having friends that I’ve become comfortable with it?

It’s occurred to me that his quest to not being enslaved (as he puts it) is leading him to try and enslave me. He told me this morning that men have more say in the relationship, and that is the way it’s always been, and always will be. I tried not to hear him. I was disgusted, but I tried to pretend that he was kidding. He started laughing afterwards, like it was a joke, but it wasn’t a joke. He’s trying to pin me under his thumb. Once I let him listen to his blaring loud rap music, and let him drink, and let him bring friends over, and let him go out with friends, then he’ll be excited to marry me. And then I won’t be interested anymore.

I never thought these issues would escalate. I remember saying to Crusifer, “I can’t imagine what problems we’ll have,” and he replied, “We won’t have any.”

What a naive reply! And how much denial it really shows in him. Or hopefulness?

Perhaps he’s in denial that this isn’t working. Or perhaps he’s just quietly separating himself from me, the way I know I am somewhere deep inside of me. That’s that pain we feel in our chest. I’ve concluded that feeling is the soul ripping apart. My soul is slowly, one tiny spot at a time tearing away from his, and the change in energy is centering in my stomach, making me sway with uneasiness, making my chest vibrate and ache. If I cry, I’ll try to heal the tear inside of me, I’ll try to calm my restless energies. Perhaps I shouldn’t cry yet. I need to keep tearing, tearing, tearing away from a man who wants to control me. A man who wants to party, drink, smoke, blare his rap music and “chill wit da boys.”

I can’t believe my own thoughts! I’m thinking about the fact that I ought to try dating a white guy. I’m thinking about actually trying to find someone else! God help me! Someone help me!

I will. Not. Cry. Yet.

I think I understand something about him now. Why he doesn’t cry. Crying leads you back to safety. I’ll cry my way back into Crusifer’s arms and peacefully forget how I felt, and why I felt that way. Tears lead me back into my emotions, back away from logic, they allow me to let go what I’m holding back right now so that I can analyze.

Right now I need to choose. To pull away from Crusifer, or to try and mend it. Again, again, again. I’ve tried this before. I’ve tried mending it several times. We tried the compromises. Sadly it’s not even what he does at the moment. It’s the things he’s said.

I don’t want to keep being called a retard (even from the same man that calls me a genius – neither of which I am I suppose) and I don’t want to be treated the way I was this morning. The way he cut me off, the way he wouldn’t listen, the way he called me full of shit again.

He’ll never keep his promises, will he? It’s been a year and a half and he’s still drinking, and I’m still a liar, and he still won’t believe that the sound of music is really disturbing enough to matter, and I feel more and more and more alone. I feel so lonely I could burst.

I will. Not. Cry yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

He’s been better than Isadora’s Josh. He’s not a big baby. He started off like Isadora’s Bean. (I’m talking about Isadora Wing, from the three-book series by Erica Jong.) He started off making love to me in the most amazing ways. We were sex maniacs together, and after the sex we talked and talked and talked until the mornings. He was understanding. Our pasts related to each other. I understood him in ways he had not been understood before, and he did the same for me. We were so affectionate. Oh how I miss how he used to touch me!

I will not cry yet! Not yet! Not yet!

I miss being happy with him. I miss being sure. I was so fucking sure! I was sure! I wanted nobody but him! I wanted to marry him! I wanted his kids! I did this all over again! All fucking over again! (Not yet!)

Why is this all in past tense? I have not given up, have I? Christ, I’m not even sure about that! Please forgive me for my sins, for I am thinking this isn’t going to work, and I’m thinking that I should cut it off sooner rather than later, and my heart is pounding, and my face is contorted from holding back tears, and my lips are fidgeting, and I’m paralyzed from the neck down aside from my fingers, clacking, taping, jittering, pressing, moving, like spider’s legs across the keyboard, finding the next letter, seeking, searching, searching, searching the way I am for love, for affection, for companionship, for someone to feel the way I feel.

I want him to feel how I feel.

I just want him to fucking feel the way I fucking feel.

I’m degrading, I’m falling apart, my logic is failing me, my heart is burning. I want to curl up in his arms and I want to cry. I want him to tell me I’m beautiful. I want him to tell me he’s sorry. I want to believe that this will work... Will work... Will work... Will work...


Wednesday, April 30th 2008 at 5:42pm


Predictably, I left my entry this morning to sprawl on my bed and cry. I think I wept loudly for about five minutes, quietly for another five, stared at nothingness for around ten minutes and then I decided to focus my entry into the drawing I’m working on. It’s an anime rendition of Crusifer and I together. What I like about the picture most is that it actually looks like Crusifer, and it kinda really looks like me too. Except that we both have big anime eyes, and our heads are rather large for the bodies, and the bodies are longer and thinner, and the necks very thin, especially mine. I love how the picture is coming out.

Crusifer inspires my art time and time and time again. I don’t want to give up, but I also don’t want to “waste” my time with him. Not that I really believe it’s a waste, because after all we’re learning from each other (from the negative and the positive experiences). I still have hope for our relationship, but this morning was another punch to the tit. Telling me that I was full of shit again really socked it to me. And then bringing up the music thing again... Telling me the man should have the say in the relationship... Telling me that I shouldn’t go take a college class because one class is useless and a waste of money. Telling me that I’m spending all his money and preventing him from saving. Telling me he’s not very sure about marrying me, at all. And the real whopper, he doesn’t want to quit drinking, and doesn’t plan on it. He said that he wrote that he wanted to quit because I got the idea in his head, implying that I clouded his judgement. (As if beer doesn’t cloud one’s judgement...)

I’ve considered all the possibilities that I can, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I will take the summer college course (sculpting – mostly because that is the only art course there was that was at a somewhat reasonable hour and that sounded interesting enough and was at an entry level) and I will soon have my bike in the mail. When my bike arrives I will bike to and from work with Crusifer, which may improve our relationship, or it may not. Either way, I’ll get exercise and see the outdoors and will be exploring another possible area of our relationship. That would add another hour onto the amount of time we spend together each and every day that I bike with him to and from work. In addition, taking the course will give me something else to learn about, something else to focus on, and somewhere new to meet new people interested in similar things.

Another measure I’m taking is that I’m halting all the wedding and children talk. The man I saw this morning was absolutely not the man I’m going to marry. This morning did serious damage to my opinion of him, and this time I think the damage is more permanent than before. Previously I’ve been able to forgive him, to let him redeem himself with promises and kisses. I won’t take promises and kisses as redemption for the things he said to me this morning. I will not marry a man who drinks, no matter how little, or how often. It’s a disgusting habit and if he can’t kick it for me then I’m obviously not worth it to him, thus making him not worth it to me.

I’m in no hurry to get out of this relationship, and at the moment I don’t even feel like I’m in a hurry to have kids and get married. I’m in no hurry to do anything in my love life at all. At the moment it’s functional, though somewhat upsetting at times. If I drop the marriage talk, the drinking talk, the kids talk, and an assortment of my other complaints about video games and people and such, then perhaps the arguing will stop, and perhaps things can mend from there. Perhaps biking with him will rekindle something between us that I feel is dying. Does he feel this way about to me too? I really believe that he does, based on the things he’s said and done. He just doesn’t seem committed, or sure that he wants this for himself, and that alone is enough to make me wonder if I’m with the wrong man.

I’m not putting him on some sort of trial, and I’m not going to test him. I don’t believe that he’s going to change. I’m going to push myself to socialize and find new avenues for myself this summer.

I’m going to try to adapt. If I can’t adapt, then I guess that’s that.

You know what really makes me sick though? I don’t feel like he’s really truly tried to do this my way, even under threat of breaking up. Perhaps February was a fluke and he was really just rushing home because it was cold. The back-rubs have stopped. The giddy cuddling is down below the minimum required for sanity in my life. The conversations become more and more argumentative and less and less productive (or even funny or thoughtful.) He doesn’t compliment me half as much as he used to. I get a “you look cute today” in a standard tone, with his standard admiration look... Sometimes he’s not even looking at me when he says it.

Oh, and I forgot the other sock to my guts he gave me last night. He brought up us having a girlfriend... After all this time of having dropped the subject, after ruling it out, after mutually deciding that it would ruin our relationship he brought it up again. I don’t really think it’s that bad that he brought it up, really. I mean, so it’s a nice fantasy and all, but it’s just so impossible to bring to reality, and if it did become reality I know we’d breakup over it. How do I know? I can imagine it clearly now... I know my jealousy better now...

I can see this pretty white girl, blond most likely, sitting on his lap while he’s at his computer. (I’m imagining this in print here, for the benefit of future recollection of my point.) He let’s her distract him from his computer (the way he would get mad at me for doing) and they kiss and kiss and kiss (the way we did when we were a new couple) and they sleep together often (making me feel out of place, jealous and angry and neglected) and she leaves most of the day, comes home when he does, and then they’re all over each other again, talking, laughing... It wouldn’t work unless I loved her too, unless she loved me too. Chances of that? Zilch.

Just thinking about it makes my blood boil. I want him to behave that way towards me again, not watch him behave the way towards a new woman!

I want his love and affection and attention so bad that I’m a wreak. I’m so blasted lonely in here that I could just set myself on fire. (That would take more guts than I really have.)

I’ve been working every single day towards getting that office done in the back. And it’s coming along quite well, as I’ve said before. It’s a good project to keep me distracted. All the boxes of books are out of there. All of the boxes of papers I have sorted through (tossing 90% of it – magazines and pamphlets and other text not written by either of my parents). I kept the stuff that had their signatures or handwriting and carefully filed it into a bin. The materials for my binders about my parents that I will create in the future.

All the tools I found I put in one box. I painted over the plain soot-covered shelves that the boxes had been on. The shelves are built into what is usually the knee-wall. They’re on both sides of the soon-to-be office. On the one side I’ve finished painting them black and there is the CD player, cleaning supplies, the bin full of old papers, trash bags, an assortment of now-empty binders, a box of reader’s digest magazines (from the late 80s and early 90s) and the box of tools.

The office project brings me closer to making Crusifer more comfortable and happy with our arrangement. He’ll probably be able to play music on the whole opposite end of the attic while I’m on the bed if there is a fan going in between, which there will be in the summer time. That would allow him music time on Sundays. I’m not too happy about not being with him during any part of our time together in the house, but then again, I’m obviously not happy about a lot of things, so compromises of any kind are helpful at the moment.

I’m not going to tell him about how I feel about this morning. I can’t really see the point. He knows what I want from him. He’ll notice that the chain I gave him (where he puts his engagement ring) is missing along with the bracelet, and promise ring are missing. He’ll notice that I won’t talk of marriage or kids anymore. It’s clear enough, just like it’s clear that I’m not his ideal wife either.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Cleaning My Closet... My Attic, My Relationship

Saturday, April 19th 2008 at 6:00pm


Strange that as soon as I don’t have a video game I’m addicted to anymore I turn right back to my writing. Then again, I was writing very long winded suggestions in the Saga Forums.


I have cramps, though not as bad as last month. I suspect they could have been, but I did take those pills this morning, and I got some exercise today, and the heat might actually help a bit since applying heat to the stomach (as all women know) soothes cramps a great deal. I’m really too hot to apply any more heat than I already am feeling throughout my body, but they aren’t so bad.

I drove (with my mom in the passenger seat) out to Wegmans to pick up some more organic grass-fed goat-milk yogurt (sweetened with a bit of “organic cane sugar”) as well as some things I’m going to give Tina tomorrow. On the way I stopped at My boyfriend’s work place and gave him some hugs and kisses. Outside Jeremy was there playing hacky sack with Chuck and two other guys I didn’t know. (The card shop is actually attached to the tattoo shop.) I gave Jeremy a quick hug and told him he should visit me sometime this week. I didn’t hear a response to that. Since I wasn’t exactly parked legally I didn’t have time to lag.

I just now returned. The attic is at least ten degrees hotter than the rest of the house even with two window fans on exhaust, foil on the windows, the attic door closed, and another fan blowing towards a window fan. The heat from two desktop computers and two laptop computer probably doesn’t help. I hope the heat doesn’t do anything to the new alien ware laptops. Did I ever mention My boyfriend bought me a laptop? I think that’s the biggest sign of commitment a man has ever showed me before.

Odder than writing so much again, and odder than My boyfriend buying me a laptop, and perhaps odder than Tina having a baby (well, no, not that odd) is that today I saw Jeremy for the first time in months (even if for the briefest of moments) and I spoke to Tre on the phone for the first time in... a year? Yeah, must be about a year. It was shortly after my road trip that I spoke to him last, and the road trip ended in early April of 2006 so that would be about right. I explained to him about not wanting him to come here, and not wanted to meet him in a hotel, even if he is married, I don’t think My boyfriend would go for that, and personally I wouldn’t either.

I told him that I wanted to go to Delaware park. He said he didn’t want to be in public, and I suspect it’s because he doesn’t want old drug customers to see him, but I explained to him about Delaware park’s location, and how it has more private and more public areas to it, and that it’s very large. He sounds just like I remember him, and doesn’t seem to have changed at all really. In a way I’m glad he hasn’t changed, it just goes to prove how right I was not to stay with him (even not counting the fact that I’d rather have My boyfriend over any man I’ve dated, or even met) but in another aspect it’s kinda sad. But what can one really say from a short phone conversation anyway? I’m glad he’s married though, that means he won’t even try anything, and I know I certainly won’t.

It seems like an innocent thing to see him, so why do I feel so nervous about it? They say go with your gut, but my gut has cramps right now, so I can’t really trust it’s inclinations. Well, surely over the next week I’ll have more time to think, to de-cramp and to write some more.

Right now I think I will lay down and read. This is proving to not be enough distraction from my cramps.


10:30pm


Jeremy and Chuck stopped by today. We talked and goofed around for an hour or so, and then they left on their way about an hour ago now. I just wrapped Tina’s presents for tomorrow. I can’t wait until My boyfriend get’s home tonight.


Sunday, April 20th 2008 at 8:13pm


Happy 4:20! I think this is the second April 20th I’m not smoking for. Yeah, go me! My boyfriend celebrated over a blunt with some random people while I went to Tina’s baby shower earlier today. I gave her infant diapers, rice crisps, organic fruit bars, and baby wipes. My mom got her two baby outfits, hair spray and a baby bath with toys. It wasn’t an exciting affair, but it was enjoyable enough. There was fruit to eat and not just junk food, though the only beverages were Soda which I of course did not drink.

Other than that My boyfriend and I have spent the day playing Final Fantasy XI. His white mage is only one level higher than my red mage so we’ve been able to party together, though we were not getting far because of the poor exp from killing the weakest creatures in Kazam. We left our party to go cook apple, sausage and yams together, but as it turns out my Mom already put a container in shortly before we came down. Since we couldn’t just log back into the party I figured I’d work on my game design.

I had severe cramps yesterday, glad they are pretty much gone today. I actually vomited yesterday which is a period-symptom first for me. Though I ate a lot of yogurt (completely organic of course from a grass-fed cow) yesterday which is undoubtedly related.


Wednesday, April 23rd 2008 at 4:37pm


I’m exceedingly worried about my relationship with My boyfriend. I want to say that there is nothing “wrong” with it, that there is nothing to “fix” because nothing is “broken” but clearly there is. I feel the patterns creeping in from the past. I feel my emotions in constant deja vu. I told him last night that I felt that we weren’t going to make it through the summer at this rate. He lied to me. That’s really depresses me. I’m not even angry about it. I’m just exceedingly sad.

In this very strange way I sometimes think that I want it to be over, but then I realize it’s just because I’m afraid that it’s work. I’m always scared of something being work. (Aren’t we all?) Every time I get that inkling in my gut like I just want us to go our separate ways I think realize how much more empty it would feel to be alone, and that’s when the deja vu hits me. I recall having those thoughts about Tre, and then I recall how happy I was to be separated from him. That’s when the analytical and logical self kicks in and starts saying things like “But My boyfriend is a more mature, practical, loving and wonderful person. And Tre was selfish, manipulating, immature and dangerous.” And I listen to logical and analytical self, and I push the feels aside. But the little voice asks, “Then why do I feel this way?”

Is this the same feeling I felt as a precursor to leaving Tre? It’s hard to remember. I’m talking about exactly two years ago, and a completely different mind set than the one I have today. So logical and analytical self doubts that I could feel the same way. I prefer comparing this relationship to my first love... Except that I’m playing Jeremy’s role, and My boyfriend is playing mine. Of course none of that is right, because I’m me, and My boyfriend is him, and now is not then. But logical and analytical self can never stop comparing and contemplating and computing, can she?

I find myself jealous about everything now. I find myself going from apathy to annoyed more and more often, and less and less do I suddenly become happy, and it’s so short-lived. I ask myself if I can break the two year barrier. Perhaps that’s why I insist our wedding date be in April of 2009, because after all, if we’ve made it to two years and four and a half months then surely we can make it for the rest of our lives, right? Perhaps just because it’s uncharted territory it seems like if I can make it there I can do anything.

I find myself having thoughts like “if I just can make it through the summer” a lot. What happens in summer that I’m so afraid of? Bugs? Heat? No, I’m afraid of being social, especially of My boyfriend being social. The more dissatisfied I become the more he will pull away, and the more he pulls away the more he’ll notice all the attention from girls he’s getting. The hotter is gets the shorted our fuses will become. Relationships start up in summer and then fall out the next summer. Why? Because the first summer you’re on the hunt, and then you find them, and then you’re blissful in love, enjoying parks, and walks, and talks and sex. The next summer you’re bored with each other and looking at everyone else wearing the summer clothes at parks, in stores, on walks and you talk to them, and perhaps if you’re the cheating type you have sex with them.

That’s why summer scares me. Summer to me spells hanging out, drugs, sex, staying out late, and laying around because the heat is killing you. Summer is sticky with sun block and sweat. Summer is painful with the sun in your eyes and the stones in your heart. Summer is crushing with all the rush to do things, and all the broken hearts. Summer is crazy with people falling for new people, people lusting after new people, with concerts, parties and weed circles growing, growing, growing and staying out later and later and later.

I had hoped to “tame” My boyfriend with “husband boot camp” before summer. It seems like just last week it was snowing, and now it’s already summer. (I must have missed Spring entirely. If this is spring, then I dread summer even more...) It’s hot, and the flowers are blooming, and I’m seeing more bugs crawling around the room daily. And I feel like the cold is slipping through my fingers with My boyfriend in toe.

Why do I feel this way? He’s upset about what I said last night. He wants to be with me. He’s not considering leaving me. He wants to marry me. He wants to support me. He wants to let me live the type of life I want to live. We both enjoy art, anime, sex, and video games. So why do I feel like something is wrong? I feel like this is the calm before the storm. I feel like I’m anticipating the ground opening up beneath my feet.

The odd part is that I felt the same way four days ago but I couldn’t stop crying and crying and crying about it. Now I feel so ambivalent and near apathetic that I’m more worried. I don’t feel worried, I’m just thinking like a worried person. If that makes any sense. I feel... Timid. I feel very timid and small and insignificant and unimportant.

I think I’m feeling failure. I have not made him completely give up drinking. I have not proved to be more fun than his friends. I have not made him understand that I don’t lie to him or ever make fun of him. I have not made him trust me. I have not made him compromise with me and stick to it. I have not found a system that works. I’m still a shitty girlfriend. Somehow, despite all that logic and analysis implies, I just suck. I feel the suckage.

Oddly I don’t feel ugly, I just feel stupid. I feel like I’m missing the key to my life. I’m standing in a room the size of a closet, and there is a trap door beneath me, but I’m not strong enough to pull myself up off of it with my arms on the walls so that I can open it. And I just know that under the floor I will find the answer... When I’m strong enough to lift my own weight with no firm holds. When I can just push against the walls and seems to levitate... But that will never happen.

Instead I’ll need a pick axe and a ladder. The pick axe to open the floor, and a ladder to climb back out when I have the answer. I’ll probably just find that the entire world is under my floor and that I’d just been in a small closet my whole life... For some reason I feel like that statement should have been funny, but I’m still staring blankly at the screen.

I can’t say I’m depressed. Just nervous. Jittery. Scared of something unseen. If I go on feeling this way I’m likely to start seeing things again. I want a psychiatrist, but somehow I don’t think I could find one that could really help. They probably prescribe me a walk everyday, to make friends, and to take yoga. I can prescribe myself to do that if I wanted. So why don’t I?


Thursday, April 24th 2008 at 12:13pm


Last night something happened that makes me have to question... Things. It’s so odd that I don’t even know how to justify it. My boyfriend got home from work at 11:05pm yesterday, which proves that it only takes five minutes for him to bike home from work. (Which I knew.) And that his nonsense about taking another fifteen minutes to bike home is to stall and smoke a blunt with his co-workers. (Tuesday he didn’t get home until 12:20am, which was a direct violation of the compromise we made three days previously, which was so generous that I couldn’t believe he had already violated it. I’m offering both Fridays and Saturdays with his friends on two conditions, no drinking and staying with me the rest of his time off of work. I’m flabbergasted that he violated it so soon. Not just by not coming home after work, but by drinking and then trying to lie about it!)

Anyway, after he got home he felt like drawing. I told him I wanted to cuddle for a few minutes first. He undressed and crawled onto the bed with me. He’s been like a lump lately, so cuddling consists on him laying near me and me touching him. This is dissatisfying to say the least. Worrying is another term that describes it. But the way his distance makes me feel is impossible to ignore. It’s causing a nervousness in my very center. It’s like my spirit is shaking, because my body refuses to.

After several minutes of trying to get him to show me some love I gave up and we went on to drawing. Drawing... (as he calls me – and we have the best phone conversation we’ve had in days – one that leaves me cheerful instead of sad.) When him and I are both drawing next to each other I get this immense sense of pride and belonging. I feel so completed, so honored, so lucky. It’s not that he’s being cold to me, just aloof. I was able to suck in a lot of that affection that I crave, (need, want, lust for and need at all costs) just by drawing beside him. Especially because he acknowledged my current artwork for it’s amazing qualities. I’m truly amazed at myself.

I’ve learned to put depth into the eyes of my characters, how to put expressions on their faces, how to use positions to evoke a feeling, how to complement their bodies with appropriate clothing, how to shade metal to make it look metallic, how to shade fur to make it look fuzzy and touchable, how to shade cloth to make it have weight, how to make up muscles and bone structures on mythical creatures, how to shade in perspective so you can tell what is closest to you, how to fill an entire sheet of paper, how to put in highlights where the belong, how to draw a woman’s profile... And it’s all because of him. I probably would have gave up art altogether if I had not met him.

When he tires of drawing he pulls out his journal (which reminds me that I need to see what he wrote) and he writes for around ten minutes, scratching away... He obviously knew exactly what he needed to get off his chest when he got his journal because he barely paused at all the entire time he was writing. Then he pulled out his book and read for a bit. I felt close, even though he was distinctly distant... Not sure how that works, but I could feel his love through his mask of melancholy.

Then we agreed on playing Final Fantasy XI together, and since he knew he was a long run from where I was (and we wanted to party together) I told him I’d cook for us while he ran to where I was. I don’t like cooking alone without his company, but last night that didn’t really seem to bother me. I cooked myself one sunny-side up egg with a slice of toast while cooking him three eggs with chopped peppers, bacon bits, two slices of cheese and a myriad of seasonings.

When I returned he was sitting at my computer. And oddly a folder named “Tre” was up, and I was confused at first because I couldn’t figure out what folder it was. He said to me “I was just looking at it because it was up” which then really confused me. How does a folder called “Tre” with four files in it (his journal entries copied from his diaryland journal written in 2005, and saved to my computer in January of 2007) just get opened? I was bewildered and told him I didn’t open it.

He didn’t argue with me and call me a liar, but I know he must have been thinking it. I can’t imagine that either of us (as computer illiterate as we are) would accidently open such a folder. Odder still it was open from the “my computer” application, not “windows explorer” which is what I use. So the only logical conclusion is that he was snooping my files and lied about opening it. But why would he do that? I’m more apt to think that I somehow accidently opened it while using Word Perfect... I mean, if he was snooping my files I really wouldn’t care, I have nothing to hide.

But if it really was up when he sat down here, and he didn’t open it, then he’s going to wonder why I would lie about opening it. I feel like somehow some silly mis-click is going to backpedal all my work at proving that I would never lie to him.

Did I mention we made love before that? We made excellent love last night. My period came on Saturday or Sunday, I forget which, and not that I mind the blood at all, but some odd reason sex on my period is painful and scratchy. I wonder if the blood drying against the friction causing the pain? But that can’t be it because it still feels that way a day after the blood is gone...

Anyway, it was right at the cusp of a new menstrual month, the bleeding gone light, and I was going to wait until tomorrow, but oddly I was overcome all yesterday. I masturbated twice in one day which I never do. I mean, perhaps once in six months. And odder still, I was still aroused when he got home. I suspect it was a combination of a few things. For one thing, I forget that I have not lost my sex drive entirely, it’s just that it seems nonexistent next to My boyfriend’s ongoing desire that only takes a break for about half an hour after sex. Half an hour later he has a boner again, and really would prefer us to make love again.

In light of that, I realize that whenever we don’t have sex for four days, I’m ready to go, which means next to his preferable three times a day, mine is once every four days. And compromising down to once a day is our usual, but it leaves him less than satisfied, and it leaves me more leery towards sex because I don’t enjoy it as much... It’s hard to want sex when you feel like you just had it, like you’re already full from the last time.

Last night though, I was on fire in a way I have not been in a long time. I was kinky in a way I haven’t been in a long time. Was I craving him all the more because of his recent rejection of me? Can I call it rejection to refuse to caress me?

This brings me back to my mental illness. That’s how I think of it now. It’s a mental illness the way I crave to be touched. My entire childhood I rejected hugs, I rejected touching, and then around thirteen I became a touch-aholic. What happened? I was so depressed, so hateful towards myself until I feel in love with Jeremy, until I had someone to touch me, but it was never enough... They always get sick of me, every one of them. And they always say the same thing “I like to be touched now and then, but you always want to be up under me. Maybe I don’t want to be up under you all the time!” Jeremy said it, Tre said it, and recently even beloved My boyfriend said it. And now it’s really pissing me off. My boyfriend, Mr. Different, Mr. Right, Mr. Perfect-for-Me, is falling out in one of the things I fell in love with him for in the first place.

Finally! Finally I had found a man who never grew tired of me touching him, who never grew tired of touching me! I was saved, my illness was being treated, and I became so blissful and so happy. Little did I know it was just that normal “I just met you, so I’m crazy about you, so I need, need, need to touch you right now, and now, and now, but in a few months I’ll stop” that happens to seemingly everyone in the beginning of a relationship.

To hear those words out of his mouth was like a slap to the face. I raged at myself “You stupid idiot! How could you believe that he really was like you! Atara, you’re a really stupid bitch aren’t you? You fell in love with another man who will never feel like you do, who will never understand, never care...” I think the pit of my nervousness is how he doesn’t want to touch me. I feel sick.


Thursday, April 24th 2008 at 2:12pm


Nothing like some hard work and music to make you feel better. The office is coming along quite well if I don’t say so myself. As some of you may not know, when I was fourteen we had a house fire (due to an inhabitant of the attic who was an attractive lady of thirty who thought she was another fourteen-year-old, perhaps my twin sister in her eyes, but in mine... Well, let’s skip what I thought of her) that burned off half the attic. The part that burned wasn’t much of a loss to my family, just to the rambunctious inhabitant of the attic. She lost everything she owned, as well as all the things she “borrowed” from me and my family. The 8-balls, my favorite scarf, several pairs of my jeans, and so on. The real damage was from the smoke and water. What the fire didn’t do to the rest of the house, the water (from the firemen’s truck) did. The smoke got the rest of the attic in a thick coating of black soot, and the floors and walls on the second floor were completely ruined from water damage. The living room towards the front of the house, and my parents bed room, also at the front of the house were the only things virtually undamaged.

The dining room floor and walls, the father’s office’s floor and walls, and the hallway’s floor on the second story of the house all needed to be torn out, and rebuilt. And my crafty parents did this themselves instead of hiring a contractor to do it with the money allowed from the bank. Most of this money, unfortunately was spent on paying various cousins and friends ten dollars an hour to sit around and smoke cigarettes, eat our food and do a half-ass job of everything they were supposed to do. (Come to think of it, they did redo the walls in my parent’s bedroom, I remember Roy – my half brother – coming down to Buffalo to do it.)

The first floor of the house, the dining room that is, was the first thing to be done, which became my cousins bedroom while he worked. My cousin Trevor used to be a serious druggie at the time, but he seems to be doing better, no he’s engaged to some woman with a young girl in Texas, and currently my brother Roy is staying with him, now that he’s separated from his third wife, luckily he has no kids with this one. (Incidently he had to leave because of her kids disrespecting him, and her not stopping them.) Then the second floor was done, and the location of the laundry was switched with the location of the bathroom, and the laundry (the previous bathroom) is no longer really a room, but rather an open area conjoined to the upstairs hallway and front stairwell.

At about that point we moved back in from the temporary apartment we lived in for nine months. My parents moved back in a week before I did, and during that week I met Tre, and we enjoying living in “our” own apartment for a week. I felt like an adult then, I remember. When I moved back in I didn’t move back into my own room, and I’m not sure why. I don’t really remember the details of it, looking back on it, it doesn’t seem to make any sense at all.

I moved into a room adjacent to the dining room on the first floor, and made aspirations of moving into the attic, which was one thing that was not done at all. I aspired to more space, and more separation from my parents. My old bedroom was adjacent to my parent’s bedroom, the next door down the hall from them. Perhaps it was the lack of a door on my old bedroom? I doubt it though, probably was still under construction, but I really don’t remember.

It took another six months to move into the attic, and at that time I merely was able to throw a knee wall up (with some help from my mom) and lay some floor tiles (with some help from my dad) and throw some drywall up (with barely any help at all) and plaster (with a lot of help from my mom) and paint (with hardly any help at all) and to finally move my things up there (by myself of course) and pretend that I had more room. Of course I didn’t, and at the end of the floor tiles was boxes of who knows what, tools, materials, and all sorts of junk.

Slowly I’ve crept half way through the attic, the part with the higher ceiling. I have a makeshift bathroom that only gets hot water (which means it’s icy cold until the hot water arrives and then it’s steaming hot) because my Mom hasn’t had the time or energy to string another pipe for cold water to come up here as well. There is a tub sitting next to my toilet, but it’s not functional in the least, and it’s full of my cleaning supplies and other tools. Over the couple years I’ve lived up here two sets of shelves have been put up, and everywhere but the bathroom has floor tiles, and I’ve attained a large amount of plastic sorting drawers, two tall ones for my clothes, several half the height filled with gift-wrapping supplies, cleaning supplies, my stone collection, more clothes, sewing supplies, scrap-booking supplies, markers, tape, pencils, pens, scrap paper, sketches, printer paper and so on and so on and so on.

My room is organized, it’s livable, it even has a tiny office. The office consists of my desk (bought at a second-had store for forty to one-hundred dollars, I don’t remember how much, but it was a steal) which is designed for the times before computers, so it’s small and simple, and My boyfriend’s desk, which isn’t a desk at all but rather it’s made up of two of my mom’s old identical coffee tables sitting next to each other. You can’t get your legs under it, which is the real problem with it. This allows My boyfriend and I to be close while we’re at our computers, but it’s a rather pathetic and annoying set up.

But there is still one part of the house that has never been redone. We call it “the back” which is short for “the back of the attic” which doesn’t really mean anything, because it’s actually at “the front” of the house. It’s above my parent’s bedroom which is above our livingroom. It’s only “the back” of the attic because the stairs to the attic are located in the back of the house, making it feel the actual back of the attic is the front, especially since it’s where I live.

The back of the attic (I’m not going to start calling it the front just because it is the front, so from now on, just know that I mean the front of the attic in reality) was in total shambles when work began on it over a year ago. It was piled high with garbage, boxes of books, assorted tools and all sorts of other junk all piled high on top of each other. The worst part? All of it filthy with black soot from the fire. Even the inside of the boxes is covered with soot. It smells, and it’s dirty, and your hands turn black within five minutes of work, and your nose clogs up with black soot from ruffling things, and you blow your nose to find that the tissue is turning black, and you cough up black spit. It’s disgusting, and no one wants to do it.

Tre never really helped with any of the household work. He avoided it like the plague, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to do it, but I do blame him for leaving me to do it. Let the white girl who grew up in this filth deal with this filth forever why don’t ya? No, no, Mr. Strong Ninja Jamaican Man can’t put his manicured hands on that sooty old crap that belonged to my parents, not even if it would benefit him in the long run. (I’m actually snickering as I write this. The same guy that’s going to college to architecture and construction now...)

My boyfriend can actually see much more space we’d have. Our living area would actually double. True, the walls are slanted, but so what? That just means we walk down the center of the room and store things at the triangle-shaped edges of the room... The real prize is the area right above my parents’ bedroom. At the very “back” of the attic there is a flat wall, and the floor is much lower, creating more head room. That is where our new office will be. The entire path through the back of the attic at the moment has boxes or storage on both sides, but it used to be much, much, much worse. I can finally say that the soot is only left in about three boxes, and on one wall. That’s all that’s left of it!

My boyfriend carted out about fifteen, perhaps twenty soot-covered boxes last week, and about six months ago (maybe earlier, I don’t remember) another twenty to thirty were taken out. Now on one side of my future office it’s clean all the way to the very corner where the slanted wall meats the floor. I’ve painted the old shelves black after scrubbing them clean this week, and now I’ve moved my CD player back there. Yes, it’s moving along nicely if I don’t say so myself. Mark my words, I will have my dream office built before October.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Conclusions, Circles and Continue

Saturday the 12th of January, 2008.

It is 6:09pm at the moment.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We meditated on this facing each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made it us.

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

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

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

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

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

That contract is as follows: