I kinda wish all my friends (with the possible exception of Brittay and Dutch) DID NOT SUCK.
I need to meet new people. You know, not MEET meet, as in meet to date, because I am not okay with the concept of dating right now (god forbid I see a couple sucking face, I will throw cacti at them). But meet new friends, to do stuff.
I only have two requirements. They must be okay with all PowerDork things, and must not be the straightedge police. That is it. That is all.
My phone buzzed again, for the fourth time this morning. Or rather, afternoon. The previous few times, I'd just shut it off and gone back to sleep. I didn't want to wake up, didn't particularly want to face the world. This time, whether it was pure curiousity, or just the neighbors blaring unbearably loud salsa music that was impossible to sleep soundly through, I opened my phone and checked the readout.
"Dude, I have a brilliant idea!" It was Dutch. Dutch is my guitarist in my band, Deadbeat Sweetheart, and for five years plus has been one of my best friends and confidantes. I didn't have the heart to ignore a message brimming with such excitement, so I dragged myself from the depths of despair and questioned him on his idea. Then I placed down my phone, rolled over on my back, and made a futile attempt at staring at the ceiling through one and a half eyes.
Twenty-four hours ago, my main concern was what to wear to my boyfriend's huge New Year's Eve party. Now, with face puffy from crying all night, left eye swollen shut and mascara trailing halfway down my face, I wondered how the year was going to end, now that he'd ended our relationship abruptly. And even worse, how the next year would begin. I didn't want to think about it, because every thought that crossed my mind started the tears flowing again.
The phone vibrated again. This time it was Brittany. Brittany is my best friend, and has been since the sixth grade. In the midst of the major ending discussion with Jeff last night, I'd texted Brittany to keep her updated on my imploding relationship status, if for no other reason than as the female best friend, I was obligated to keep her informed. Several texts later, it was decided that I would de-puff my swollen eyes, shower, and head over to her house to set out for some serious retail therapy.
I sighed, reached over, turned on my light, and stumbled half-blind out of my room. I soaked a washcloth, went to the freezer, and dropped the washcloth atop some sad-looking, dented box of Ellio's pepperoni pizza. My phone buzzed again, and I checked the readout. This time it was marked "from Skwisgaar", and it was a much simpler message: "Hey Kelly. U ok?"
Oh, Keith. Keith and I have a long and storied history, with much of the complications stemming from events that occurred earlier on this year. He's an excellent source of hugs and nose-kisses, and my favorite shoulder to cry on. Keith understands pain, confusion, and hurt like no one else I've ever met. I'm not sure he can fit the widely accepted definition of "male best friend" (in fact, Dutch is probably a lot closer to that), but it's hard to really explain to passersby what exactly I define him as. Mostly he's just the Amaterasu to my Issun.
I punched in a completely truthful, honest reply, sans the bravado I'd injected into my messages to Dutch and Brittany, retrieved the frozen washcloth from the pizza box, retreated back to my room, and sank down onto my bed with a sigh. I set my phone down next to me, pushed back my frenzy of unkempt black and brown curls, laid back, and draped the frigid, damp washcloth over my eyes. And as I stared at where the ceiling would be if my line of vision weren't covered in white terrycloth, I wondered aloud, in a wounded, cracking voice that didn't sound much like mine, "Where do I go from here?"
I wrote several months ago that 2009 was the year that changed my life. And it's true. 2009 was a year in which I truly discovered myself and set off on a headstrong mission to fix the gaping hole that's been steadily growing in my chest. I left Big Lots for El Monte RV because I needed a change and needed to get away from my mother, and because I thought a desk job would make me happy. I left El Monte RV because a desk job made me miserable; it was boring and stuffy, my ass frequently fell asleep, and it left me no time to spend nights at Keith's. I stopped being unemployed because I ran out of money, so I took a job at Target, which would allow me to work fifteen hours a week at nights, and still have time to adventure at night with Keith and have a summer. I left Target for Foodtown Pharmacy because I was tired of being a constantly broke retail slave, the summer was over, and my new boyfriend was growing up and making me feel like maybe I should grow up too. And here I am, still at the pharmacy, loving my job but hating my boss and the hour-each-way commute. I'll probably stay there for the time being, since I'm at least gaining experience that will start me on a career. I love what I do, and I want to be a Pharmacy Technician for the rest of my life (at least, if being a famous musician isn't possible). And I'm only slightly less broke than I was at Target or Big Lots, but I'm getting something I wasn't at those places: resume-building experience.
This year, I bounced from half-assed pseudorelationship to half-assed pseudorelationship. I spent most of this year single, focusing more on sorting out my feelings for a certain white wolf than actually building something. And okay, sure, I was afraid. I finally had some sense of independence, some sense of being all right on my own. I didn't want to chance falling for someone and getting my heart broken again, when I had just finished duct-taping it back together.
Jeff happened by accident in July. I'd just gotten my face ripped off by Sherry's dog and wasn't feeling very sexy, what with the stitches and bandages and massive bloody scars crisscrossing my face. Brittany and I went to Mama and Papa Nocito's to pick up Emily for a shopping spree, and there he was, sitting on the couch. I was kind of taken by surprise, and my first impression was literally, "Wow, he's kinda old." And I didn't give him a second thought until much later that night, after the mall, when Emily went upstairs to bed and Britt and I went out back to have some beers with Doug and the massive crew of people that accumulated in the backyard. Jeff and I got to talking, and the rest is simply history.....history that's pretty well documented within the annals of my open book of life, also known as blackroseblooming's Xanga. I was afraid of falling for him, of giving my heart away. We took things very slow, both being careful of committing. Somewhere in the midst of all this caution, I found myself utterly engrossed in his world, thinking that it was the greatest feeling in the world to finally be a normal girl with a healthy relationship, a real job, and things going right for once.
Fast-forward to today, and things are a little different. Last night, he decided he just can't be in a relationship right now, that he doesn't "feel it", and that he tried to make it work, but it just didn't. He says he needs alone time, and I do understand. On a logical level, I understand. On an emotional level, I am staring failure in the face yet another time, and it is just about the most horrible feeling I've ever had. I wonder if there's something wrong with me, why no one is ever capable of loving me. I wonder if he'll come to his senses. I am filled with hope that he will, and cynicism that he won't, that I just don't measure up, that I'm not good enough for him. I've been filled with this fear before, but instead of the familiar sharp, stabbing pain, this is filled with a dull ache and a sense of exhaustion. I'm so tired of it.
I have lofty goals for the following year, mostly relating to my income tax check, I'm going to buy a laptop and a Wi-Fi card, so I can use my Xanga again without mooching other people's computers. I'm going to pay off my credit card....well, at least some of it. I'm going to buy Cyclops new tires. I'm going to get my pharmacy license so I'll be an LPhT.
Beyond that, I have no idea. I guess I'll stay with the pharmacy for awhile, since I'm pretty comfortable. I'll keep driving Cyclops, because she actually runs, and that's good news. Brittany and Dutch and Keith will still be my best friends. I don't know how I'll spend my weekends now that they're suddenly free. I don't know what's going to happen between me and Jeff. I don't know if I'm in the position to be in a relationship, with him or anyone else. I'm running scared now, and I don't know if I'll be able to open my heart again. I definitely don't want to be with anyone else right now.
2009 began with uncertainty and ended in the same fashion. There's a little more than 24 hours left.
I wonder if it'll change, and if 2010 will be any better or worse.
Me: "Ammy, you think if I pray hard enough, a giant cannoli will fall out of the sky and smush me to death?" Keith: "No, but maybe if you piss off an angry baker, the chances would rise." He never fails to make my day
Remember that old saying, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?"
Holy CRAP.
THINGS I MISS MOST ABOUT HAVING THE INTERNET:
1. Blogging at 3AM, whenever the urge strikes me and I have something meaningful to say. Writing it down on Post-Its just doesn't work for me.
2. Conversely, fighting on Xanga. I suppose you could call it "debating", but usually I end up getting into hotheaded political and/or sociological arguments with faraway people, a la ninth grade World History/Social Events class.
3. Posting whimsical Facebook statuses, and having the world marvel at my charm and wit.
4. Being able to watch Buffy. Holy crap. I have a hard time getting to sleep before the wee hours of the morning, because my brain clock is all screwed up from working the second shift. My 2AM Buffy-watching ventures keep me sane, not to mention, prevent me from having to buy DVDs and consequently, a new DVD player, since the one I purchased for $5 at National Wholesale Liquidators store-closing sale is (surprise surprise) a total piece of crap that only plays about half of the DVDs I insert.
5. Being able to check my bank balance on a whim. I like knowing how much money I have before I spend it.
6. Being able to look up phone numbers and addresses for places without breaking out the phone book. And even then, if it isn't in Union County, I'm S.O.L. And considering that I don't spend much time in Union County anymore (my job and boyfriend are both in South Jersey, my best friends are split between New York City/Essex County/Passaic County/Somerset County), this is a bigger pain in the ass than you might realize.
7. The catharsis of Xanga. Seriously, this is where I go when I can't really talk to anyone else, or when I just don't feel like sharing. Writing things in a notebook, like I used to, is really time-consuming, and besides, I've been out of college for almost a year, I hardly have any stationery left
I guess it's just bottom line, that this Xanga has been my place of organizational thought and center of rant for many years now, and I'm kind of lost without it. I'm less stable than I've been in awhile, and I just feel distant from everyone, and now with lack of cable or internet, there is far too much time on my hands and nothing to do with it. I really can't wait till this situation rectifies itself (i.e., Daddy and I scrape together enough money to pay Comcast), because although I probably sound like a spoiled brat, it is very difficult to get by without these things. Not so much the TV, but definitely the computer. I find myself telling Jeff things in our nightly conversations that I would never have any reason to tell him, because they'd normally go here in Xanga, but I can't really help it, I need to get it off my chest.
I worry sometimes that he's not really listening anyway. It really upsets me, the distance that I feel between us, but I'm really afraid to bring it up and say anything. Last time I brought it up, he ended up wanting to break up with me because he felt like I was too much work. I don't think I'm that much work. I don't really need much. I'm not the insecure, attention-starved teenage girl I once was, I'm grown up now, with a full-time job and a lot of other responsibilities and concerns on my plate that don't revolve around him. If he really thinks I'm that much work, he should talk to Randy and see how much work I really can be x.x;
I don't know anymore. It's tough to cram everything that's been going on in my mind lately into an entry that has to be written in under 15 minutes. I'm just never sure whether I'm blowing things out of proportion, and I really don't want to make any major steps that would wreck my relationship. It isn't that I don't want to be with him, I just want him to be a little more.....you know, boyfriendlike. He doesn't call first anymore, he doesn't really show much in the way of PDAs anymore, it's just like....what's going on here? Did the spark really die out that fast? We've only been together four months.
Grrrr. Well, I was supposed to do grownup things, like get the customer service number for Capital One so I can yell at them for quadrupling my minimum payment and tell them that if they want ANY money at all, they better knock it back down. They're probably going to threaten to send my account into collections, and I'm going to laugh very heartily, because there are so many people that want money from me, they'd need to take a number and start contemplating their deli order.
The following list of characteristics is from an online test that tells you if you're experiencing symptoms of schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder:
