giving him a complex

So, apparently there is this thing... called a relationship. And once you decide (willingly, I might add) to become a part of one, stuff changes.

You're not allowed to get fantastically, stupidly drunk and make out with whomever is in a five foot radius of you. In fact, you're not supposed to want to unless it's only your significant other in that radius.

You're not supposed to be friends with your ex's, even if you've been friends for almost longer than you dated.

When you come back from trips, you're supposed to make alone time with the person you're seeing before you make any time for your friends. And, including friends in that special time is also a no no, apparently.

I'm not good at dating, I'm great at being single.

I am amazing at it in fact.

Dating is work, with another person, who you don't know what they are thinking and who sometimes have different opinions than you. It's compromise after compromise, and you're supposed to want to do it. You're supposed to value the other person's happiness over (or at least close to) how much you value your own...

But why?

Why should his happiness be more important than my own?

Isn't happiness something you yourself are the only one who can control? Shouldn't you and only you make that a reality?

If you're relying on another (or in reverse, trying to make the other happy) won't it just not work?

You can be happy with someone, they can contribute to your overall quality of life; there is no way anyone but yourself can make you happy.

And, being "that girl" who strives to please the person she is with will just make her feel insignificant, unaccomplished, and as though she'll never be good enough, or funny enough, or whatever enough...

But, she should never feel that way; her happiness is her own responsibility just as the others happiness is their own.

However, even I make mistakes. I don't call when I should, and I don't make plans properly because I want to see everyone and not just him. I don't think that if the other person isn't happy it's my fault...

... because it isn't, really.

Is it?
If they aren't happy with something I've said or the way that I act, it's not my fault if they don't bring it to my attention, right? And therefore, unknowingly proceeding with my life in the same way I did before shouldn't make you upset with me, it should make you upset with you, for not speaking our mind and notifying me of your feelings.

I'm not a mind reader. I don't expect that of you, so how can you expect that of me?

And, most importantly, if you're relying on me for your happiness, you're doing it wrong. I can help; I can be enjoyable company or a great listener, I can hold your hand as you fall asleep and kiss you in the morning, I can make you a surprise or bring you some sort of gift... but that won't make you happy. And I don't want to be held responsible for that sort of thing.

That's not what men want to hear though, is it?

They want to make you happy and they want you to make them happy. They want to look into your eyes and trust you, just because. They want to know that they are your first priority...

But that's just not how I work.

I'm my first priority. I need to be.

My happiness, my future, my everything comes first. If I'm not happy, I know that you can't change that. So why should I be concerned with something I can't change (your happiness) when I am fully capable of changing something of my own?

Does that make sense?

Maybe I am just too good at being single.

Maybe I just don't have room in my priority list for anyone else.

Maybe I don't care enough...

the city is THE city...

New York was surprisingly one of the most relaxing vacations I've ever had, and that's saying something because last year I went to the beach and spent the majority of my time drunk. However, last year I had just broken up with David and the predominantly drunk thing made me despondent and emotional.

Going by myself turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

On Friday and Saturday I stayed in Adrienne's apartment while she worked/went apartment hunting (I was going to join them for that but the hang over was so intense I slept till four in the afternoon (evening...?) and didn't even care) and rested, watched TV, made grilled cheese, skyped with Tom, enjoyed being alone.

I didn't anticipate how refreshing it would be to do whatever I wanted, when I wanted, and not have a crying baby, and intrusive mother, a sister who is always expecting things from me... so so nice.

Not to mention much girl talk was had. Adrienne is one of the greatest friends I've ever known, and I am glad I got to offer her my womanly opinions on things like good blow jobs, dating from the Internet (and how more than one guy is totally acceptable), how to make french fries, and other girl centered things like hair and clothes and getting our ears pierced again and potentially our next tattoos. We went to a bar that the main form of entertainment besides wildly over priced drinks ($3 for a diet coke (I was done drinking at this point because of the 26+ hour hang over I was experiencing and ka-razy bad heartburn) was a piano player who played show tunes and everyone in the bar sang them. And I do mean everyone. Obviously it was 'mo central, but there were old people, young people, the annoying NYU "I'm an amazing singer who just happens to not be performing right now for one reason or another" types, and then me and Adrienne who love show tunes but don't know them all. It was heaven. I want to start one of those here but I know it wouldn't work.

I sang karaoke at a bar with zebra print couches and odd disco lighting in Christmas colors; that was an experience. I figured that karaoke in NYC would have a better quality of singers than that of lil ol' Stow Ohio, but it didn't. They were just as bad. And, because I'm a lush the tab for the two of us there was over $75... I don't want to talk about it.

I got to see this amazing free improve show with real famous people in it. Do you watch 30 Rock? Lutz and Blonde girl... I saw them for real and in person and it was the best thing ever. We waited in line in the relatively cold evening air for about an hour and a half, got our free tickets, went to a bar (totally empty too, that's what happens on a Sunday night I guess) and flirted with the bar tender who gave us a total of three beers and four shots for $18... that's exactly why wearing low cut shirts and having a great personality will get you pretty much anything you want in life... including free booze which probably shouldn't be so high on my priority list, but whatever.

After the show I bought pop tarts and I think that giving people them as a souvenir will be funny.

My camera is either broken or all the batteries I brought for it were dead... both are a possibility because I didn't buy the batteries so I'm not sure. Basically, the photos I have are crappy because I couldn't take any in the dark (and when you sleep till 4 most of your time spent doing interesting things is in the dark (hey-o!)) and I couldn't get anything better than crap so I stopped trying after one minute.

Patient, I know. I deserve an award or something.

 You can't really tell but in the last two the skyline is in the background. Besides the smell and the fact that the water tastes bad and strange people talk to you when you make eye contact with them, everything was absolutely perfect. I had Chinese food delivered and it was hands down the best General Tso's chicken ever. It was only made better by it's arrival via. delivery guy on a bike. The flavors were perfect and you could actually taste the butter (pretty American, but still, perfection). The pizza we had delivered was also from the Lord. The sauce... oh my, the sauce. I'll never be able to recreate that, but that won't stop me from trying. I had the best sushi as well, and I don't really complain about any sushi but there was this salmon, perfectly spiced, with mango... I don't think I've ever been as excited to eat something in my entire life.

I ordered a pomegranate martini in the sushi restaurant and was disappointed when it didn't taste like the POM Sake Martini from Ruby Tuesdays, but like I said before, I'll just have to go back and ask them how it's made. I did grow a pair and drink a few beers, and by a few I mean probably five or six over the weekend. Guinness, Sam Adams, some special New York Boston type brew, I am now a man with chest hair and a sack and everything.

You're welcome for that visual.

The men in New York far surpass all the men anywhere else ever. Their clothes, their faces, the way they walk... all make me swoon to the point of missing steps and almost running into things.

Oh, hahaha, I did actually fall down the step (note: one) into a guy. I opened a door inside a building and there was a step I didn't expect to be there. he caught me, I pretended I wasn't mentally handicapped, and moved on. Too bad he wasn't as cute as some of the others.

The black men mostly were such good eye candy (whiteys too, but I'm not a big fan of the hipster look and it falls so short in comparison to tall, very dark business man in a shirt and tie). It must be the bad tasting water that makes them look so suave.

New York is beautiful in a completely different way than the things I missed about home (birds chirping in the morning, the smell of grass and trees, good tasting water from the tap). I love that driving is really not an issue. I love that there are always things to do within walking distance and most other people are walking too. I love that everything delivers (did I mention that liquor stores do too? We didn't have it delivered, but it was an option). I love that the food was so much better. I love that pretty much no one has children there and everyone has a dog. I got some good face time with a few of them and they are all nice and used to people because they're surrounded. I love that everything is fast, but you don't have to be.

You can sit in corners and eat or read and no one will bother you, your food comes much faster at places to eat even if they are packed, you can pretend to be deaf or French or just tell people to Fuck off if they are annoying you. Designated drivers are not necessary. You don't have to dress a certain way or look a certain way because literally no one cares about you (this could be construed as positive or negative) there are coffee shoppes everywhere. There are places to get hot, fresh waffles on the street corners. Dan Radcliff was in the city at the same time, although I never saw him, knowing he was so close was warmth to my little heart.

I met Italians (very rude actually, I could have punched them) and an English girl (she took us to our table once) and a boy who made fun of suburban kids and said we hang out in the woods all the time (which is only half true). I got oggled by construction workers and judged by gay men. I called people idiots for stopping in the middle of the side walk and felt like I could really belong there if I wanted to...

Then I went home. On the way I saw the rolling foot hills in Pennsylvania and llama farms that made me appreciate my rural(esque) living. I imagined owning the silos and having the cows for my own (I want to be the pioneer woman for reasons other than being the owner of a mega famous blog). I smelled the fresh (thank God) air and didn't see garbage littering all the streets for the fun of it. I got to enjoy all the things I love about not living in the city.

I know why I love Ohio, and I know why I love New York, and albeit for completely different reasons, I don't think justifying any of it is necessary. I talked to a man today who said NYC wasn't a vacation, that Colorado and hiking and white water rafting were vacations, but I don't care (look, I've got the New York-er mindset already) if he doesn't agree with me. I loved it, I loved seeing my girl friend, I loved spending less than two hundred bucks for five days away from home, I loved getting to go out and see things and meet people. White water rafting is fun, I've done it. Hiking is also fun, but the city is THE city, and I love it just how and where it is.

NYC in two days!

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I have been trying to do things for myself before I head back to school, little things I won’t be able to do while I’m in school for lack of time, money, whatever. I've boon cooking things that take quite a bit of time, I've been reading hard core, and I planned a trip to New Yoke City, which I'll be arriving on St. Patrick’s day and getting my drink on (so hard).

I'm in dire need of a break from my life right now and while being in the city probably isn't going to help me relax like say, a beach might, it won't be filled with spring breakers and I'll be surrounded with people who are as anxiety filled as myself, which will mean I won't be laying there trying to relax, it means I'll be able to embrace my inner crazy and not stick out like a sore thumb. Also, being alone in New York (Adrienne will be there, but I am not taking anyone else) is a lot better than anywhere else because there's shit to do and you can do whatever you want. I want to do so much.

I don't want to lay drunk on a beach for however many days, because I don't think I could properly relax; I think I would be miserable if I was trying to do nothing. I need to do something to take my mind off my mind. Like see a musical, and get so drunk I forget my own name.

The bus ride there and the bus ride back will be an adventure; I'm sure of it. Mostly because I've decided that I will take a sleeping pill, and in doing so I will insure that I don't have to pay attention to how anxious I am thinking that the bus won't end up in New York (chuck that on top of the irrational anxieties pile), although I took one last night and decided to read while trying to sleep, and since the Dresden files are so full of thrilling battles and immensely thrilling moments, it didn't help me sleep at all... so I had to stop reading and I'm not sure if I'll be able to fall asleep if everything is super hyped up. I mean, we are going to New York City; it's kind of a big deal.

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My mother needs to go. Now. Yesterday. Three months ago.

I sight with her almost every day, and it's absolutely horrific. I can't stand it, it needs to stop, and she needs to grow up and get the fuck out. Really, living with your daughters, causing me more stress than I already have, and doing so for the sole purpose of avoiding your marital issues is the worst example of good parenting I've ever witnessed from my mother.

Well, other than the time she threatened to put me up for adoption for being such a horrible child... and then when I told her they'd take all of us she didn't like that so she handed me the phone and the phone book and told me to call them right now. I joke that scare tactics are good for teaching, but they really aren't.

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Aren't mini posts fun?

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I met Tom's entire family this weekend, and his birthday was yesterday. His family likes me, but my anxiety basically made me think they were going to tar and feather me. I love his little sister, she's amazing. She writes Harry Potter fan fiction, and if that doesn't tell you how perfectly geeky she is I don't know what will. She also wants me to help her sing. So much love.

I had a Guinness, and I drank the whole thing which anyone who has ever been out with me will attest to, I pretend to like beer, order it, then give it away because I really do not like beer. But, when you're in a room full of men and they are related to the guy you fancy on multiple levels, you take the Guinness, say you like it, then drink it like you've had one every day of your life since you were eight.

Also, ice cream cake! I love DQ cake, its perfection.

Tom's family events are officially way more fun than my own, and it may have been because my mother wasn't there and I wasn't steaming and resenting her and trying to leave as soon as possible without seeming rude. But, seriously: I had a blast and I am pretty sure they like me.

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I have a huge hunger for either Fiesta Lime Chicken or something similarly cheesy and crunchy. Sometimes I worry about my cravings; if I didn’t know better I’d think I was knocked up. I am seriously concerned about what I’ll actually be like if I ever do decide to get pregnant. Normally I end up eating things like potato chips in icing (please don’t judge me) or other ridiculously salty thinks with ridiculously sweet things (bacon in maple syrup, which you must admit is a bit more normal). Other times (like the last two weeks) all I’ve wanted was pizza slash tomatoes slash something that would taste like pizza and or tomatoes. For breakfast on Sunday I made tomato soup and grilled cheese… this was at about 8 in the morning (7 if you’ll remember the time sprung forward) and it was the most amazing breakfast I’ve had in a while.

……………………………………………

Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow after my therapy appointment. I haven’t had one in two weeks and I am thinking I may need to go back to weekly… I have so much that is on my plate right now and not having a home environment where I can relax is making my life miserable. I will post once I’m back from New York and I promise to have photos and everything. Have a good week loves.

so much pent up stress

Last night I turned into a crazy person.

(Sorry Tom, seriously. You're wonderful and I'm so sorry)

I don't want to tell you exactly what set me off but after I was upset, the flood gates opened (literally, I cried for probably an hour and a half straight) and I didn't know what was wrong (and by didn't know I mean couldn't pin point one thing, everything was wrong).

I'm nervous about school. I'm nervous about money: if I'll have time to work, how I'll afford anything if I don't work, will my school work suffer if I am working... I have a savings, but it's not enough to get me through the next two years.

And, great for me, the hospital where I take my therapy that writes off my sessions because I have no health insurance till I'm a full time student again hasn't been doing it properly. In the past month I've gotten two bills from collection agencies. Even if it's a mistake, it's terrible for my credit to have delinquent bills... Have I told you I hate money yet?

I'm nervous about going to New York alone. I'm leaving next week and David was supposed to go with me but he bailed like a little bitch because he "doesn't have the money". He and I have been planning for two months, if he really had wanted to go he would have the money. End of story.

Ellen is still in Geneva.

My mother won't fucking leave* although I tell her at least once a week she makes me want to club baby seals (which is not all the way true, I would never, but she does make me want to kill things).

*this is seriously my main issue; if she would leave it would give me the space I would need to deal with all the other little things that are bothersome. My mother has no respect for me, my opinions aren't valid, and my needs are secondary to her own. Nothing I say holds any clout (this is also my older sister). They are messy, my mother in particular. I want to stab myself in the face thinking about how much shit is everywhere. The groceries get left on the table for days, my sister still hasn't brought the trash cans up from the curb, trash night is Monday, my mother thinks that bringing up laundry in garbage bags and leaving them all over the house is acceptable... please, kill me....

Tom and I fight all the time (now, this is just me, I'm so fucking stressed about everything else I end up acting like an idiot). This was fixed last night, I apologized to Tom, and told him we're never fighting again. Because we won't.

I miss Kyle every single day. I know I made the right decision getting him out of my life, but goddammit it's hard.

I've stopped working out because going alone is really hard and Merry doesn't want to do it anymore and going with my mother is not an option... That is doubly bad for me because I am no longer losing weight, I am not getting the endorphins that were making everything better, and I am not losing weight! I need to, for my self esteem and for my health. And because I promised Ellen I would look smokin' by the time she gets back, which is in less than two months.

Basically my life is about to take a huge turn and I am not ready... I am totally ready to go back to school, that's not what I'm not ready for; I'm not ready to be an adult who is in school. An adult with a car payment and bills and gas at a million dollars a gallon, and a mother who still won't effing go home.

I ran out of allergy medicine this morning and I don't want to buy more, that shit is expensive. I ran out of another medicine too last night (not telling what, but it has to do with the fact that despite my lactose intolerance I still eat dairy, often) and that too is expensive.

I need new glasses before I go back to school, I really should buy new contacts too because mine are drying my eyeballs out like whoa.

I need a hair cut because I royally messed up my bangs trying to cut the in haste one morning (completely wrong angle, they looked so screwy) and on top of all that Tom's family birthday party is tonight and I have to meet even more of his family.

I broke the touch screen on my phone last night by dropping it not very far. I even had a screen protector on it. It's not necessary to use the touch part, but when it comes to texting I now will just never have a capital letter because that was easier on the screen, not that anyone cares.

Also, what will become of my blog when I no longer have a job that requires so little of me? I want to keep this up, I love blogging, I love reading about you people and the lives you lead. Is it pathetic I worry about that? My blog is my child, my little, slightly inappropriate, sometimes potty mouthed, randomly profound child who I love so so dearly. I don't want it to die, I want it to live forever.

And, for no reason that makes any sense to anyone, my ovaries have started telling me it's time to get knocked up. they want a husband and a baby so bad. All I think about is being a mom and a wife and all that gross stuff that pisses me off. I hate dwelling over the idea of someday rearing possibly ADHD children into perfection while I am always pregnant and cooking and that seems amazing to me. Can anyone get the crazy out of me? Can anyone take my hormones and destroy them by any means necessary? Oh, and while you're at it my laundry needs done. And I pulled hooks off my wall last night while I was drunk. Fixing that too would make-a me very happy. *smiley face*

I hope there aren't eleventy billion typos in this because I don't really feel like rereading it and I've already found like 40 (yes, I just wrote "like" as the valley girl that I truly am). Slop, that's what we're proud of here on Denise's blog of pure literary brilliance. Slop and the F-word.

I just found the most spectacular man smell

While perusing a magazine, because I'm so damn productive sometimes and those Macy's boys do something for me, two perfume sample papers fell out.

One was a Paris Hilton one, I threw that away, it smelled like a child's splash that would come with a Barbi doll.

The other... the other, oh my word, it's from heaven. I've been smelling it every few minutes or so when it wears off my scarf, which I accidentally rubbed it on but it works because it's right by my face and I am (almost) aroused by the smell alone.

It's like a dream. I can envision my future husband smelling like this... I adore it.

I may have just ordered some from Amazon... not for anyone in particular (although, giving it to Tom might make me fall in love with him and his birthday is coming up... ). If you get the chance to go sniffing and find this, smell it. You'll be in love so hard.

god, or God? ...or OH God... or whatever

Since yesterday I accidentally talked about politics when I didn't even realize it was the next topic in my thirty days of truth, I will instead choose to talk about religion.

I'm Lutheran, and I love it. I went to private school for 9 years as a youngster (K-8th) and I really wouldn't change that for the world.

Not only did I get a great education because of the small class sizes (and I do mean small, my graduating 8th grade class had only 17 kids in it), but I also got to grow up in a safe environment where the teachers really cared, everyone knew each other, and a girl with big boobs could still play sports even if they interfered sometimes.

During a volley ball tournament my 8th grade year I had the opportunity to bump the ball... because my aim was slightly off, instead of hitting my outstretched arms it hit my boobs. And instead of going anywhere it sort of flopped, losing all its momentum, and fell to the ground with a thud. Everyone laughed... I obviously felt awesome about myself and was monumentally particular every time thereafter as to make sure the ball hit my arms, and not my boobs.

In private school, be it Catholic, Lutheran, or Nondenominational, you still have religion class every single day (except Wednesdays, but at that point you have Chapel, which the whole school attends and you don't have to do homework (yes, I had religion homework)). You also had a memory verse each week. We were also monitored on how often we went to church, that too was a part of our grade. Basically, I know my Bible.

But what do I think of religions that don't follow conventional New King James or the like versions of the Written Word? How do I feel about religions that don't allow you to eat meat on Fridays, or, more horrifically: bacon. Ever.

As far as never eating bacon ever goes, in my mind that in itself is a sin. Bacon helps me see God, therefore I think it in itself is a holy symbol.

What do I think of religions where the ladies don't cut their hair and only wear skirts, or where you can't read Harry Potter books?

Basically I think religion as an idea is an excellent. As a practice, if left to define your every day morality (which, thanks to radiolab we know that morality has little to nothing to do with religion whatsoever) and how we treat and love others it's also a great thing. But, when organized religion leads people to hate and cast judgement and have a "holier than thou" attitude toward those who believe anything differently I am not impressed.

In fact I'm appalled.

Take my parents for example. My mother (the republican) and my father (the democrat) have been divorced for about 17 years.

My mother insists on going to church every Sunday, she does daily bible studies, tells me to pray ever time I try to discuss a problem with her and seriously, I kid you not, watches the yelling religious type shows with my nephew, and the pathetic "God has changed my heart, I'm alive today because of him" shows on a far too regular basis. But, when it comes to her current marriage she is a total bitch. She treats my step dad like crap and blames every single problem they have on him. She won't face her problems and is still living with me despite how much stress she causes me knowingly. Instead of trying to make her life any better, she looks to God, inactively. My mother is very unhappy.

No one (not even God) can help you if you're not doing anything. Ignoring your problems will get you nowhere; trust me, I know.

My dad goes to church on Saturdays so he can golf Sunday mornings. He tries to get my little sister to go with him, sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. Either way he is happy to go, enjoy the company of his church friends, worship, sing, give offering, and take communion all while keeping his feet and head on the ground. He loves and believes in God, but he understands that hatred and judging anyone for anything isn't his place or responsibility. My dad is a happy man.

see how fun I can be?

Looking at religion as an obligation isn't how God intended it to be. In his Word (I'm going by Christianity here because it's what I know best) he talks about peace, love, and leaving certain things up to Him. We are to worship him, but that doesn't mean just in showing up and going through the motions, it means living as though your presence matters, your actions affect those around you, and making every decision you ever make based on the golden rule: Love. It means that when your heart is in the right place the rest will follow. You're existence will be a testament, not your fake words and your ability to take scripture out of context.

I see religion as a guide line for how to best show love. If you're showing love you're showing God. Judgement isn't love. Blaming others and having no responsibility of your own isn't showing love. Hating, mocking, belittling, thinking you're somehow more important than another person... none of that is love. None of that is God.

And that's why I see no reason to attend church with my mother, or any other person who views religion as she does.

la la la love is in the air! and my life is pretty good.

I know that as soon as I publish this post, something crappy will happen, but for now I don't care.

Basically things are pretty awesome.

I got into nursing school! How rad is that? I knew I was going to get in; I was 98.99% sure, but there was that itty bitty part of me that was still nervous (and, thank you Celexa for making that nervousness bearable) so I tried not to talk about it. But, now that I've gotten in, I can sing it from the roof tops.

I'm going to be a nurse by this time 2013, and I am going to make good money, have a good job, and be able to live somewhere that doesn't involve a crying baby or my mother who still won't leave. If you get sick you can ask me stuff and (although I usually can nurse my friends back to health properly) I will be able to heal you, like for real.

The most important thing I'm looking for with this is to have a job that makes me feel good about myself. I want to wake up every day and know I am having a positive effect on the world, and that I help people. People need helped; I want to be the one helping them.

Kyle and I are through, officially. Friday I sent him a text with all the reasons why I couldn't be his friend or really have him in my life at all. He agreed with all my reasons, he said he was really sorry he couldn't be the person I knew he could be if he just tried, and he wished me well.

I still think about him a lot, and I have had a few moments where I really wanted to text him and tell him something, but his number is out of my phone. I'm proud of myself for making this decision. I am proud to know that while i may have had love like feelings for someone, I was able to keep my head about things and see what was bad for me. Then, I was also able to cut it out of my life, because I am stronger than my emotions.

Ellen says that it made sense that I still loved really liked him (despite my feelings for Tom); we had so much "clicky-ness" that being with him was one of the easiest things I'd ever done.

I'm proud of myself for letting him go though, because Tom is a great guy, and letting my heart do what I want it to do makes everything easier, even if Tom takes a bit more work than Kyle.

I met Tom's parents over the weekend, and his little sister and brother. I am pretty sure they liked me, except Tom told them I am a democrat and I don't think they were too happy about that; the room got all tense and quiet. It seemed like they were looking to start a debate with me, for me to prove to them why I was a democrat so they could all gang up on me and smash me down.

Because I hate fighting more than anything and am a master of humor, I made light of the situation, told a joke, and made the conversation move on in a totally different direction. I will never talk to them about politics, ever. Just like I try to avoid that conversation with Tom as much as I can.

No person is perfect, and since governing bodies are run by humans I do not expect radical changes instantly or really ever. The system takes time to find balance, and since republicans did such a botched job when GB was in office, I think that giving the democrats a chance to figure out a new plan rather than bashing every minute decision any of them make is a good idea. Human nature is what's wrong with this country (and any governing body for that matter), not democrats or republicans.

I will be honest with you all: if it could work, I'd be happy to live in a communist society. However, read any book from my 10 Honors English class and you'll learn that no matter how perfect the idea, we as humans cannot execute it properly because power and money corrupt, which is why I am a democrat; I would like the government to take control of the shit we keep messing up (insurance, health care, failing economies. Because a lot of people forget that this is no longer the industrial revolution; it's the age of information, and therefore make stupid decisions based on that forgetting... ) and give us the rights republicans won't give us or try to take away (legal abortions, gay marriage, and sadly, more recently the crap with planned parenthood).

Yes, printing money is beyond stupid and we are going to see the negative effects of that very soon, yes people shouldn't have voted for a president based on the fact that they both have dark skin, yes, the health care bill was such a joke no one should have even thought it was a plausible (or possible) solution to the problems we face with insurance companies (slash big drug companies) concerning fair pricing and who can or can't afford decent coverage, but I think that in order to find the right solution you're more likely than not to mess up a few times, and that with issues as big as we're facing, I doubt any one thing would fix it.

America has been the world power that it is for a really long time, even Rome fell... nothing lasts forever and accepting change and trying to figure out how and what will happen is a lot smarter than shoving your heels in the ground because you don't like the decisions of the people who your fellow citizens elected into office.

This turned into something far more political than I intended; forgive me, thou must.

Back to good things,

Bobby is 23 today which means I'm getting old... every time he has a birthday I have a mini identity crisis because he is only a little bit (eight months) older than I am and I am old. But, this year I don't care. I'm on my way to nursing school, I'm not freaking out about not accomplishing anything of worth in my measly 20+ years on this planet, I actually feel amazing about myself. We'll see if I still feel this way come my actual birthday.

Tom... Tom Tom Tom. I am so into this bloke it almost has to be bad for me. I love his voice, and when I hear it on the other end of the phone my heart beats faster. Knowing I am going to be seeing him makes the troubles and irritants of they day matter so much less. Kissing him, oh my God kissing him... can someone be so in love with kissing someone else nothing besides the kiss matters? Tom is by far the best kisser I've ever snogged with. I'm happy, and the moment I decided to rid my life of Kyle it was like me heart opened up and all I wanted to fill it was Tom.

Have I sufficiently grossed you out yet?

Basically he is awesome, and I can't get enough of him.

Friday I get to see Thoroughly Modern Millie for the first time ever because Andi is in the pit at some high school in the middle of nowhere... but it'll be cool. I love the music (it's based of a girl in the twenties who is thoroughly modern... very very cute). I love musicals.

And, last but not least, my nephew is effing hilarious and I love him so so much. We have started him on solid(ish) food and watching him eat is so comical. He is the personification of nom nom nom-ing and once I figure out how to do it I'll show you a funny video of him eating.

the break up book

Everyone, well, people who read, have books that signify turning points in their lives. A book you read after your pet died that helped you see death is a part of life. A book for when you graduated high school that helped you grow up and see that your adult life only held as much potential as you were willing to put into it. A break up book for when you're heart is broken seemingly beyond repair.

My sister decided that the only book anyone would ever need for a break up book was The Zahir, by Paulo Coelho, because it's a book in which his wife unexpectedly leaves him and he learns quite a bit about himself on his journey to heal and find love again.

I've never read the book, but I read the first three chapters or so when David and I broke up; I could just tell it wasn't for me, not at that moment anyways. The writing was the only thing that kept me going. My God, if I could write like that man I'd have it made. Soon I'll read one of his works, but not now... now I am reading something else.

Call me cliche, just do it. I know what I am about to tell you will make you roll your eyes at me.

I'm ready; I don't care.

Last night I started reading a book that will be my break up book (sorry it came almost nine months after the break up... but I have been doing a lot of introspection and I probably wasn't ready to read it before now) and my new relationship book, all in one.

I know this because I've seen the movie...

Eat, Pray, Love

Are you done laughing yet? Can we move on?

 Great.

I loved the story, the idea of a woman who knew her life was messed up and took the necessary measures to fix it (sound familiar? I just wish I had been able to go to three foreign countries instead of the weekly therapy and meds rout) so this week when I saw it at the library on my way to check out I just nipped it up and walked out the door.

Because procrastination is my middle name, I didn't open it till last night... and 7 chapters in I knew I would finish.

Not because it's an easy read, because it is, but because the style is fantastic. It's so conversational and real, it's like talking to a friend with her little self interruptions (her use of parentheses makes my heart soar) and descriptions.And, it's funny. Laugh out loud funny. She describes her crazy like any other woman would: accepting but still loathing.

We're all nuts; after we've accepted this fact, dealing with it becomes so much easier.

Being able to relate to a book character with how her heart feels about her husband, how she fell in love with someone so fast (Kyle... again *cough cough*), and how no matter what she did that relationship wasn't going to heal her (only cause more harm and distress) is I think why this was more my book than The Zahir. That one is about being perplexed as to why you broke up, figuring it out, discovering yourself and how you can not make the same mistakes in your next relationship, and then seeing how those changes effected your new relationship for the better. That's not me.

I knew exactly what happened in mine and Davids relationship. I knew that he hated me for the exact same reasons I hated me... and that isn't exactly what happened in Eat, Pray, Love, but it's a lot closer because she hates herself and the needy (*ding*) warped (*ding ding*) person she had become from trying to please everyone else. She hates how she can't be alone (so many *dings* your ears bleed) and the idea of being alone is just as frightening as staying with the person you know is wrong for you.

She says, "The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving."

Before David and I broke up I was so unhappy, I was so unhappy it physically hurt... but I didn't know what to do. I couldn't leave him; he was the only thing in my life worth living for (so I thought), but I also couldn't stay with him, because if I stayed that meant I wasn't dealing with the shit pile I'd let my life become.

The depression sucked me dry of all reason.

I didn't do anything for fear of making a wrong decision, I didn't talk to anyone for fear of being reminded of exactly what I was hiding from, and, most importantly, I completely ignored how unhappy I was, because if I accepted that something was wrong, I would have to face it.

And isn't facing yourself much scarier than facing anyone else?

But I know this book will be it, it'll let me read about what I emotionally (since I physically can't eat gelato three times a day or go to Indonesia) went through this past nine months or so and then show me how to really love again.

Because at the end she finds that. Peace, love, and a guy to make it all seem worth it.

gaah, life is hard sometimes

My therapist sucks because she makes me think about the things I pretend aren't bothering me. I sit there, for forty minutes talking about my mother, and how she drives me crazy, my dog, and how he is the cutest fur ball on the planet, my older sister, who is far too sympathetic towards my mother... and then, she asks me about my relationships.

Yes, you read that right.

Relationships.

With an "s".

As in plural...

Because I still have really strong feelings for Kyle and she is one of the few people who knows this.

She says that I light up when I talk about him, and that it sounds like I'm talking about the one I'm in love with, not just a friend. When I describe the way he makes me feel, how much fun we have together, how he is an amazing listener... she says that I'm happy, and she can see it in my eyes.

But with Tom, my boyfriend (is it just me, or does that still sound weird coming out of my mouth?) I seem to be making excuses. I like him, that's evident, just not with the same glow in my heart and light in my eye.

Being with him is fun, just not as fun... not as hilarious... not as much of anything. At all.

When Tom and I first started seeing each other, Kyle was out of the picture; he had decided that there was too much attachment happening (for both of us) and since he is damaged goods and can't give me his heart (note: won’t) I needed to quit him. We needed to quit each other.

What we were doing was bad for us both.

I hated him for making that decision. I hated him for taking the hope that we would someday figure everything out and be together. I hated not being the one to get to make that choice, I hate not having control, I want to be the one who decides when things are over (or beginning, or where we're going for dinner, or what color the walls should be...) and being told by someone else pissed me off.

And my heart hurt, Kyle was (and is) really special to me.

Kyle and I weren't talking, Ellen was in Geneva, David had fooled around with a girl on new years and hurt my heart so much I was sure it was going to break in half... I was lonely as shit.

And along came Tom, my knight in shining Irish armor with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. He swept me off my lonely feet and into his gigantic muscular arms. I felt safe, I felt wanted, I felt comfortable and warm and beautiful. He made all the hurt that was in my heart not as hard to bear, he helped me feel like I was worth something again... He was everything, he was the only guy in my life who I cared about (on the outside) and he made everything better.

My feelings for him were real, but very subjective.

David is my best friend again because I've forgiven him for being a major ass. Kyle is back in my life because it's sort of hard to actually get rid of someone who means so much to you, and while Ellen is still in Geneva, I'm doing better. Merry and I see each other on a pretty regular basis, which means that I'm not starving for female companionship.

So all the deep passionate quasi-needy feelings I felt for Tom have been subdued. I still want him, I still feel comfortable with him and enjoy our time together... it's just not so much of a need. It's not so much of a want. The void he was required to fill is no longer void and he's no longer the only thing filling it.

I have my best guy friend back, I have Kyle to do the things with no one else wants to do with me (glee anyone?) and Tom... well...

I like him, so much. But I need to make room for him in my life before he can matter to me as much as I matter to him. He is one of those guys who are generally annoyed by all things female. I guess I'm lucky because I am in the same boat.

Why are women so annoying?

So Tom choosing me for more than horizontal fun is something I should be proud of. Him wanting to see me and talk to me on a regular basis just shows me again how I'm not like normal women.

Yes I cried at Marley and Me, but who didn't? Yes I get all emotional when the red river is about to flow, but who doesn't? Yes, I think mini things are cute (even if it's cheese, how cute are those mini cheese rounds?) and all things baby make my face crunch up and higher than normal pitch talk come out of my mouth, but who doesn't? All I'm saying is that the normal: think it's cute to be stupid, never have anything of substance to say, just plain annoying to listen to and be with is what makes me special for not being those things. It also helps that I don't hate sports and I love Batman.

So, in order to make room for him in my life I am going to tell Kyle it really has to be over this time. No random texts about fifty cent fake moustache machines, no hanging out and drinking, no me letting his dog out because he'll be home late for work, no Sunday cinnamon rolls, no glee marathons on hulu... nothing.

Because as I'm writing this I, realize that he means way more to me than all of those things. He takes up a pretty big portion of my heart... and I want to give that portion and the rest to Tom. He deserves it, he deserves me, the whole me. He is a wonderful person, and me being selfish like this is horrible.

Kyle had the opportunity to have me; I was more than willing. I need to let him take his decision and walk, because having my heart and my head disagree on my relationship is a very bad thing.

texts from the ex

me: men... they are just so needy

him: so are women... then they cry.

Obviously he remembers our relationship with fondness.