Friday, December 30, 2005
I don't really feel like unpacking. I want it done, I am looking forward to having a neat, organized home, and posting my pride about it when it finally is done, I just keep finding excuses not to do it. For example, last night, Monsters Inc. caught my attention and wouldn't let it go.
Last night was tough however, because I am back at the old crossroads of something has to change and I don't know which way to turn. It's the same thing I have been pondering for 8 months. Tell T I love him (I think he deserves to know. I think everyone should know that someone does or has loved them) and walk away so that I can heal, or keep going the way things have been going and have my wounds reopened time and again. I have prayed for guidance, I have not recieved any (I was specific in asking for an understandable answer), I have searched my soul. I have meditated and reasoned it all out. I have placed myself in his shoes and tried to think of how I would feel if the tables were turned, but I don't think that is accurate. I know how I feel. I don't know how he feels. I can read into his attention, his help, his present, his holiday card. I can make them mean what I want them to mean, but that doesn't make it true. I have faith that an answer will come when it is time, or that this will work it'self out somehow, but honestly, it took years for the situation with S to work itself out and I don't want to be in pain that long.
Perhaps I am addicted to this sort of angst and that is why I continue to find it. Perhaps this is the only way I know how to love a man. From far away so that he cannot reject me. I do know that I don't want to come accross as a blubbering idiot. Thank goodness no one is in here to see me tearing up and my nose turn all red. I am not a beautiful cryer.
Prayers are answered in ways that are hard to understand sometimes. And I believe that the universe answers them when it is time. perhaps I just need to understand that it is not yet time for me to be done with this, no mater how much I know something needs to change. Perhaps the answer will suprise me. Perhaps it will hurt me more deeply than I ever thought possible. But I have found that when you are drowning, it helps to find the bottom so you can push for the surface. I fear that bottom. Maybe I am already there. Only time will tell.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
This year, although I have a lot of options, what I really want is to spend my New Years with T. That won't be happening, and even if it did, it would be a platonic evening, not the romantic reunion I like to wish for. However, I am reminded of New Years 3 years ago, when I was stuck on another man, one far less suitable. The ensuing New Years evening was one of those strange surreal times that I have a hard time believing that I was involved with. This man plays a part in several of these surreal times, which is one of the reasons that I understand why he was so bad for me.
I know I have mentioned several times S, who I found unbelievably handsome, who sparked my breakup with D (through no fault of anyone, it was time for us to be over, meeting S was only a catalyst), who pulled a fade away, who I held on to for far too long, we ended up working together, and with whom the final end could have cost me my life. I will admit that the mention of his name still makes my world go flip, but I can smile and shake my head about it now. I'm glad that I am not likely to see him again, even though he turned out to be a good and loyal friend. I emphasize friend.
3 years ago on New Years, I had nothing to do. I could have spent it with my mom, but there would be no parties that year. So S invited me to go with him up north to party with his friends. Having met his friends and liked them, I agreed. Plus the three hour drive alone with him in his 'vette sounded like a dream come true.
All went well at the party except for the copious amounts of pot being smoked (I've never been a fan) until someone's girlfriend started picking fight. she tried with me (for talking to her man) and finally settled on a man who seemed nice, and had just gotten out of prison. The fight continued from the bar to home where it continued over my head in the spa. Then someone started playing with the shotgun. What goes up must come down, so I ended up curled in a little ball on the couch, and then was put to bed where I woke up a bit later to the sounds of someone having sex about 5 feet away. eew.
The moral of the story? It's better to stick to my own people. New Years with an ex isn't always a dream come true. Hope, although great for getting you through the tough times, can get you in some bad situations. this one could have been so much worse!
So for New Years this year, I will likely go to a party. maybe I will meet someone. Likely I won't. but I think it's important for me to go out, have a good time, and start 2006 without drama or heartache and with the knowlage that a year from now, my life will be completely different and I'll probably be glad I didn't spend this New Years with T. His friends are great, and I can guarantee there won't be any fights or pot. but that doesn't mean that with him is the right place for me. no matter what my heart thinks.
And, in other happy news, I conditioned the crap out of my hair (which has been on the frizzy side since all the dying madness) and now it feels so soft I can't stop touching it. which is a little creepy because I keep petting my hair and looking at myself in all the glass doors. more than usual (I can't help it. every time I see my reflection, I'm amazed that it's there. It's a surprise, like looking at pictures of myself. every time I see me I go, "hey, look that's me!! so that's what I look like. cool" so really I'm not narcissistic, (mostly) I'm just facinated with my own image. uh, um, yeah)
In other news, not nessesarily happy, my tea smelled like the petting zoo this morning. so either they are feeding the goats chrysanthemum tea, or um, the petting zoo tastes good?
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The winner was interesting. He was really nice and had a great personality. i sat with his family and we all cheered loudly for him. He had a face like a cartoon. This is not an insult. I really liked his face. it had more charactor and personality than most. Plus, he was a natrual clown. he was the type of person you could imagine with his own game show.
We had a great evening, and lots of adventures that night wandering around downtown and terroroizing Dick's Last Resort. We even discussed me going to Hawaii with him, although I made it clear that it would be a friend type vacation and that I was not interested in him romantically. We stayed in touch for awhile, but our friendship faded.
It faded because he was bothered by my religion. You all know that I don't push my beliefs, and if you met me, you would never know which way I lean unless I told you. But eventually, this information comes out because it is a part ofwho I am. Just as being Christian is a part of who he is.
In his defence, he told me that it bothered him a bit, although I didn't realize how much until he stopped responding to my emails. It saddens me that he was unable to get past our differences in faith, as it is not an issue for me. A person's faith is a personal thing that cannot possibly be completely understood by another, even of the same faith. But it is worth mentioning because it was the first time that I was rejected on basis of my religious leanings. It was also the last, and I hope that it remains that way.
This post was inspired by one at www.nonfluffy.com
I'm all done moving! I gave my keys to the landlord yesterday, he gave me a hug and said to come visit. I doubt I will, no need to seek out his wife when all I want to do is slug her. He's a nice man. I realized that I will miss the neighbor kids a lot. Poor Tyler sees me moving stuff and then goes and hides. I think his 7 year old brain really hoped that I would stay, and then maybe marry his dad and be his new mom. Meanwhile, his Uncle came over yesterday and expressed sadness that I was leaving because "we don't get a lot of young girls on this street and now there won't be any eye candy" eew. it's disconcerting to know he's been looking at me like candy this last year.
The electric company has pissed me off again. apparently they have forgotten that I am not responsible for my father's debts. I have to call them today and remind them that we settled this issue less than a year ago.
T gave me an encyclopedia of 5000 spells. I love it. it made my gift of Nanaimo bars look really lame. He said they are good. I knew I should have splurged on the carving tools or book or one of the million and and half other things I saw for him that were not in my budget. He even included a card. it thanked me for everything and for being me. I'm not sure what I have done to deserve his thanks. Last time someone thanked me for being me, it was accompanied by two dozen red roses and was the start of a two year "thing". The book will last far longer than the roses, and I have little hope that the card meant more than what it said. Such is my sorrow.
Actually, yesterday was tough and I had to put myself to bed twice to sleep off my meloncholy. I hated seeing T go yesterday, but it has been a long time since spending time with him plunged me into such a funk. Part of it is because I have not been eating. my sickness has robbed me of appatite, which seems to make me depressed. I have to wonder if the other part of it has to do with the moon phase or something. The tempatation to use my new book to cleanse him from my heart or bring him back to me is strong. I know what I want right now, but I don't believe in affecting other people's Will, and I don't want to cut the ties that bind if there is still hope. Confusion. I hate a stalemate.
Friday, December 23, 2005
T and I were discussing my possible future in the prostitution field. (and his too. we're not sexist)
When I expressed that I didn't want to do that because my clients might get freaky or rough, he suggested Nevada, or a pimp. the following is my reply. In the picture above you can see my Best Little Whorehouse in Texas hair do.
"no pimps, I don't want to share my profits! why should some man get money for my hard working coochie? and from what I see on TV, it's usually the pimps the girls need protection from! Meanwhile, if I were to go to Nevada and get into the business, I think I would rather open up my own brothel and be the madam. then I could make money off of other women's hard working coochies and I could wear fancy dresses like Dolly in Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (we already know I can achieve the hair) AND I could choose to snag the really hot clients for myself. I've thought it all out. had a dream about it once. In the dream I invited all my close male friends over to try out the girls before we opened for real. you now, cuz I'm nice like that."
Meanwhile, I made Nanaimo Bars (ok, they'll be wedges because I don't have a square pan) for T as his christmas present with plans to give them to him tonight when he comes over to help move the rest of my stuff. I have two minor problems.
The recipe calls for egg but doesn't say to cook it. I figured out from my other recipe that the heat from the chocolate is supposed to cook the egg. but, what if it wasn't hot enough? I mean, what if the egg is still raw?? eeew! what if my nanaimo bars are no good?
T isn't coming over tonight because he has a few things he needs to take care of and I let him off the hook. but not until I remembered that Nanaimo bars can be frozen (duh, Gina, they are a Canadian treat). So they will have to wait until Monday. That still doesn't repair the egg issue. I just realized that if the Nanaimo bars are in fact as yummy as T says, that in the future, I could make mini Nanaimo bites with my tart shaper. ooh. I like the tart shaper.
Meanwhile, in other cooking misadventures, I was going to make white chocolate snowmen last night, but my white chocolate coating went bad. it turned yellow. then it seized in the pan. so I added milk to try and smooth it out, and it came out looking like something the bird puked up. I don't know what the moral of that story is, but I did make chocolte covered marshmallow chunks. I'm calling them "coal" and I am giving them to the people I forgot to remember when I was counting office mates. This year I put together movie time treat bags because I can't afford to send everyone to the movies. I'm feeling insecure about the worth of my gifts. Which is why I no longer like buying presents, because I don't think I spend enough, even though giving is not supposed to break the bank.
In my last post I forgot to mention that I can't do HTML, which is what started the whole "what I can't do" post in the first place because I am jealous of Joo's new template. I want one with cookie monster. and floating cookies like the lemons on Marisa's, which I don't have a link to in my links section (which seems to have disappeared) so here she is: www.marisahatesyou.com.
Expect a lot of blogging today because I'm the only one in my office. I do have work to do. I'll get to that next, I promise.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
1. Lift heavy stuff. This should be a given, but it's not. I used to be strong, like an ox. my bulging back muscles would frighten me when I saw them in the mirror. Then, I wore myself out lifting heavy objects. now, about ten pounds is my limit. It's tough knowing what I used to be able to accomplish on my own. It's been even tougher having to learn to ask for help.
2. Hook up my electronic equipment (computer not included) I could probably learn, but frankly, I'd rather have a man come over and do it for me. sexist? yes. do I care? no. However, I can put my computer together because only the correct plugs go into the correct holes. kinda like sex. everything fits perfectly if you put it in the right hole.
3.Fix my car. newfangled contraption. I miss my good old 86 ford tempo.
4.Plumbing. every time I mess with a spigot, I make a big old mess. so I don't. I leave it for the professionals.
5. Electricity. Ever been zapped? I have. It took me years to get over my fear of plugging stuff in. I have also learned not to date electricians. but that is another story.
6.Kill things. even ants. I don't know what I would do if I came down with a case of the roaches(call my friend Bug Guy) it hurts me to know that my spiders will likely be killed when my landlords move back in
Oh! speaking of landlords, remember how I gave 30 days notice on the 1st? and how I won't be totally out of the house until tomorrow? yeah, we had to move stuff all around because they are having the carpets replaced um, today and tomorrow. and the phone company called and said, hey! I hear your moving! yeah, because they are trying to set up phone service right now. which remionds me, I need to call the trash people and cancel that service. Good god, can't they wait another week??? oh and hey, I wonder if anyone bothered to put the cans out yesterday because I sure didn't.
I'm trying really hard not to be a pain in the ass here because, hey, isn't it better to take the high road? But honestly, we have until the first, they shoud give us until the first, and quit jumping the gun for goodness sake. oh how I would love to sneak a giant lump of coal into that woman's stocking!!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
That's a Yule Log, not a glowing piece of poo. I was going to send you a different card since this one looks like a glowing piece of poo, but then I thought, "poo is funny" and glowing poo is funnier. And what better to light your way on this, the longest night of the year, than a glowing piece of poo?
The above message went to my sister a minute or two ago. but it was so fun, I thought I would share it with you all too. So Yuletide greetings and Happy Solstice, and this ends the religious portion of my holiday season. Now bring on the presents.
My boss lit a box of pens on fire this morning to get our admin's attention. I didn't believe it until I saw the singed box myself.
Group sex has been okayed in Canada. wow. I wasn't aware that it was illegal. Not that I'm interested or anything, but wow. Meanwhile, our executive director called my boss to see if he was moving to Canada.
It never fails. Just when I think it's ok to pass gas in my office, someone walks in. I always hope that it gets blamed silently on the waste treatment facility. I must be comfortable with you guys. I don't usually discuss my gas. except with my sister. but she has it too.
I'm getting verrrry sleeepy. I would like to go home and take a nap now, but I have a lot to do. and I should pick up another load at the house. At least get my iron and my black shoes. Oh, and I have to work until 4.
The company dog just walked past me with her head to the side as though she was trying to avoid eye contact. Even the dog doesn't want to talk to me!
I recieved another gift of good smellies. I officially have a complex. They must not be quietly blaming the poo plant after all.
T and I decided that I must have been infected by martians.
Thats all for now.
Monday, December 19, 2005
T says that getting up close to one likens the possibility of enjoyment.
As a strait woman who doesn't teeter towards the other team, I said that I have one, I keep it clean, and I don't really need to visit with someone elses. Then I thought, hey, it's kind of like my car. Then I realized that it isn't at all like my car for the following reasons:
1. My car needs a bath and a vacuuming. badly. I mean, I have not washed it since July.
2. My Car needs an oil change. I'm not sure how I would go about changing the oil in my hooha, but it doesn't sound like something that should be done.
3. I ride around in other people's cars, and I let just about anyone ride around in mine. Only special people are allowed to ride around...oh now that's just nasty. never mind.
Thursday night while T was helping me move, I got a phone call telling me that my mom was on her way to the hospital. I'm not going to go into details, but I will say that we still don't know what is wrong with her according to all the tests they did (they kept her until Saturday) but we are still waiting for information from Dr. Theneurologist. T took me to the hospital and then all around to collect her car from the nail salon where she passed out and to her house to get clothes and all that. He kept me in good spirits and laughing, and I will always be greatful to him for that. (He says that next time he wants to be the one to slap her back to life (they couldn't find a pulse) but she says he hits too hard)
I spent all day Friday with her and Poo in the hospital. They let her out on saturday evening, but she's not allowed to do anything. I did let her put the angel on the tree after we decorated it yesterday.
Had some family Christmas stuff going on. I have to say that for the first time as an adult, I got to enjoy the wonder of small children opening their gifts, and I realized that it really is what it's all about.
But before I looked up my given name, I looked up the only name I answer to, except perhaps Monster. In Greek, Gina means Farm Girl. Which makes me Queen of the Farm Girls. Now postrate yourself properly and bring me some ice cream. with caramel sauce and a very attractive sex slave. queens shouldn't have to go without.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
http://www.fuali.com/test.aspx?id=35205d9c-5462-4324-926d-bc2d7ca95e98"> src="http://www.fuali.com/testimage.aspx?img=2d0aaa25-be1c-4c19-b701-20e76fdceae0.gif" alt="Not Too White Trashy" border="0" style="margin-top:5px">
The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.
White Trash Test
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
ANYWAY according to the creators of the Thunderdome, most blogs suck and they give lots of examples of sins committed. I imagine I have indeed committed several of them, including blogging for the sake of blogging and yes, this whole thing might be narcissistic, but if you won't love yourself, who will?
I'm not going to pretend to love every blog I read based on the fact that one I do love has recommended it. And I will also admit that if you don't update your blog at least once every couple of weeks, you fall off of my list permenantly because once you are gone, I forget you. Except Sargini. I checked in on him every day. And his Snarkiness. I knew he'd be back eventually, and he popped in here periodically too.
so, I hit the "Next Blog" button. and discovered that there are a lot of blogs out there in foriegn languages. Since I only speak English (I have a repetoir in other languages too, but nothing fluent. Mostly I can cuss. and I can say "I have a frog" in something like ten different languages. But this does not help me) I also looked at the blog update thingy.
I discovered that they are correct over there at the Blog Thunderdome. many blogs out there do suck. a lot. One reminded me of a boyfriend I used to have that talked incessently about his computer. A language I also do not speak, not being a tech head.Another appeared to have been written by a 13 year old that only speaks in instant messaging terms.
So for you, and my ego, I hope that the crap that pours forth from my fingertips provides some amusement once in awhile. I am flattered that anyone comes here to read my thoughts. Many of you are here because I left messages on your blog. Chances are, if I'm leaving messages, I like you. I'm enjoying reading about your life. Thank you for giving me a glimpse and a connection to someone outside my normal realm.
should any of you happen to lose your bid in the Thunderdome, I'll miss you, and see you when you return to the blogging world.
Ps, I may try to sell you soap once in awhile, but I promise that I won't try to sell you a cafepress T shirt with my face on it. I mean, I wouldn't wear it, why would you?
'Tis the season to be lonely
fa la la la lala la la la
I'm smiling big but it's a phoney
Fa la la la la, la la la la
I'm donning now my spinster mittens*
Fa la la la la la la la la
I'll grow old with lots of kittens
fa la la la la la la la la la**
especially bitter sweet are all the pictures of W with his girl. Not because I would rather be in her place, because I wouldn't, but because they do many of the things that I would like to do with someone but I don't. I mean, T and I do that stuff, but there aren't any sweet snuggly pictures. Just landscapes and the snuck picture of the back of T's head. I know I'm being pathetic again, and I'm really trying to stop. But if you are single during the holidays, you know how hard it is to look at all the happy couples running around all excited about twhat they will buy for each other, ice skating and snuggling in front of the fire with hot chocolate (which come to think of it, I never did take advantage of my fireplace) and all that mushy gooshy stuff. I miss that. Crisp mornings and frozen toe fights under the covers, waking up with someone on Christmas morning. My mother says that my day will come. I think mothers are supposed to say that and while I wouldn't take back the bulk of my exes, it would be nice to have someone to spoil during the holidays.
*I'm pretty sure spinsters wear mittens, I mean, I do (hey, where did I put those?). They aren't special mittens, except that Bean gave them to me and now she's gotten lost, but they are spinster mittens since I am a spinster and they are mine. Maybe I should knit some spinster mittens. For my kittens...
**there was more, but I got depressed and had to slap myself for being pathetic.
I had fun at bunco last night although I have to admit that for some reason, those girls bring out my naughtier side. It must be all the frank discussion on dildos and vibrators. No one actually recieved a dildo last night, although there was a bit of vibrational hardware. A back massager! don't be gross. Regardless, I like my Bunco group and am glad to have them in my world.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
It has now been one week since the renovation of the red head attempt which ended up turning me into a brownishred head. As you have seen from the picture, which seems to have dissappeared because of that bad post titled "I should be working" (or something) which screwed up my blogger page and won't delete, it looks pretty good.
The dye is still washing out. It doesn't seem to have taken very well on the parts of my head that were previously highlighted. it is fading into a multicolored brownish hue. The top of my head, where my hair was virgin, (I had this bright idea to see what color my hair is sans highlights) is still the color of rich mahogany. Which leaves me with badly toned hair. in another week or so, if I continue to wash my hair, it appears that it will, at this rate (and I only wash every other day) look REALLY, REALLY bad by next Tuesday. I thought my concern would be the blonde hair that grew in, not the blonde hair that is fighting it's way through in ways that can only be discribed as ucky.
With moving, I can neither spend the time or the money (again) to have it repaired. I am not going to try dying it myself again to save a buck. I suppose now would be a good time to call my hairdresser.
Saturday is my family Christmas party. picture central. I don't want to be immortalized as the one with bad hair. Crimany. When will I ever learn not to mess too much with what nature provided?
My bras need washing. So I left them at the house thinking I could just wear a sprots bra in the interim. Sports bras don't help on cold mornings. they don't hide what I like my bras to hide. Thankfully, I found a brand new one in my drawer that not only still had the tag on it, but it matched my shirt today. Problem? so much support that I am busting out of my shirt. can't close my jacket, and my buttons are pulling so you can SEE that my bra matches my shirt. If I thought this problem would score me a date, it would be a good thing. but instead I imagine all the girls who don't know me are whispering "slut" behind my back. Maybe THAT will score me a date*. hmm.
*I still don't date work boys. I might consider an exception with Handsome Richard. Given our lack of conversation, I doubt that will be an issue.
Monday, December 12, 2005
My coworkers made me laugh so hard today that I almost peed my skirt in front of the executive director. that's all the news for today.