Monthly Archives: November 2013

Random Thoughts, II

Trix are for Viki.  I used to love Fruit Loops, but they’re really rough on the roof of your mouth.  Trix are much better.  ^^

 

I don’t actually care much for sweets.  Chocolate, candy, cakes and cookies.  Meh.  Don’t get me wrong, there are times I love chocolate (ladies, mirite?), and I love baking cookies and cakes.  I just like to bake and give away.  ^^

 

I think I’m actually a really selfish person.

 

I’m kindof a slob.  I come home and toss my jeans and shirt on a chair, and just leave them there till the next time I need them.  But I’m so crazy about having crumbs on the counter, and forks that have crust in them…  And soda bottles that aren’t tightly tightly closed…  I’m a total neat freak about some things…

 

I am an emotionally driven person, and I’m tired of apologizing for it.

 

I hate winter.  Not because of the cold, I love the cold.  I don’t even mind snow – though I’m uncoordinated and fall on ice a lot.  What I really hate is the dry air.  Static.  All winter long I have to fear car doors, blankets, coats, light switches and even water – yes, I’ve gotten shocked by water.  How weird is that??  I hate static….

 

Oh!  I condition my hair with a vinegar rinse – vinegar steeped with cinnamon and cloves, a bit of olive oil and a touch of orange oil.  I tried washing my hair with baking soda and water, but it just never felt clean enough.  The rinse though – my hair has never felt stronger or silkier.  Once a month, I do a “mask” of olive oil, honey and banana.  It’s ridiculously good.

 

I’m terrified of mice.

 

Basketball.  I love basketball.  Pro only.  My friend Dylan made me a fan of the Suns, but I love the Celtics.  I haven’t followed much lately, but I should.  I love the high-scoring, fast-paced games.  Intense, so much fun.

 

I read, a lot.  Like, constantly.  I get anxious if I don’t have something to read.  My books are my friends.  King’s the Dark Tower, Grant’s Newsflesh, Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, Goodkind’s Sword of Truth…

 

I’m just writing now, blah blah..

 

I haven’t slept right in weeks, or months.  This year?

 

I miss sleeping with someone.  Just that.  Spooning, back to back, just, sleeping with someone…  Jeez, I miss that.  And waking up with someone…  fijrokvidk

 

Blah.


An Unhealthy Relationship

I’ve known this guy since I was 16.  …  This is such a complicated relationship, it would take an hour or two to explain all the backstory…

 

Heh, whatever.  I know this isn’t a good relationship for me.  It’s always gonna be on his terms, I’m never going to feel good about it, and the only need of mine that would be fulfilled is “not being alone.”  And even then..

 

And yet…  There are times when he lights me up, when he’s impossibly sweet.

 

And yet…  Though we live in the same city, I haven’t seen him in, years.  He’s never made the effort to come over.  (He’s moved around a lot, until now it’s been pretty impossible for me to come to him.)

 

And yet…  I dunno.  He’s cute, and a fantastic kisser?

 

And yet…  Even though it’s only been a couple times, he’s nothing to write home about in the sack.

 

And yet…  Actually, I don’t think there’s much else about him that I really like anymore.  We’re not really close – he doesn’t tell me much about his personal life, except how his latest place to live has fallen through, and his car died.  He hides me from his gf, has let me take the blame with her in the past when we’ve “hooked up,” while telling me they weren’t together…  He’s still an obsessive gamer, which I used to think was cute, but gd, he’s 32 now and spends his entire day playing CoD?  That’s why he couldn’t reply to my email, when I really needed him?  =/

 

I’ve cut him out of my life so many times before.  I wonder if I can again, and really stick to it this time.  I know it’s hurting me.  But sick as it is, he’s the only friend from those good days that keeps saying he wants to be around…

 

Heh, but it’s bullshit.  Sometimes I think he only wants me around because I love him.  Other people have even told me that.  I’m just an ego boost for him…

 

God, we had so many good times together.  Running through the golf course in the rain.  Setting up the table and chairs on the median in the middle of the night.  Getting arrested, lol.  The cornfield.  The hotel party where we held hands.  All those nights getting stoned and drunk, lol.  The first time we kissed, during a drinking game. He introduced me to anime, Harvest Moon, and the WWF.  To NIN and Korn and Birdhouse videos.  To martinis and Bruce Campbell movies.  I owe that guy so many pieces of who I am…  And maybe not all of them are good…

 

I wish I could quit him.  ^^;  I need to.


Lonely Secrets

I keep secrets, and it makes me feel disconnected, isolated.

 

I keep my brother’s secrets from my mom.  And I keep my mom’s secrets from my brother.  I keep secrets about my extended family from the both of them.  I keep my brother’s and mom’s secrets from the family (though I don’t talk to any of them at all anymore…).  And, of course, I keep my own secrets.

 

This sucks.  This really sucks.  Sometimes I’ll tell my brother something about my mom, and she’ll get really pissed at me…  She “doesn’t get” why I want to talk with my brother, share things with him.  And there are things my brother has told me that I can’t share with my mom at all

 

There’s a few things about my extended family that if I told my mom, she’d be so mad and hurt…

 

There are things that I’ve gone through that I can’t talk with either of them about..

 

Keeping all of these secrets sometimes, often, makes me feel so isolated from my family, especially my mom and my brother.  I love them, and in many ways, I’m so close to them both.  But there are so many things I can’t talk to either of them about.  It’s frustrating, and it’s hurtful…  And I feel like there’s nothing I can do about it.  =/


Unforgivable

Sara wrote a thread about forgiveness.  I thought, since I’m trying to open up, I’d elaborate on my post.  The one person I really can’t forgive is my dad’s mother.  I don’t want to call her my grandmother, because my mom’s mom was my grandmother.  And the term, to me, is meant to describe a person I love.  I loved my mom’s mom, my grandmother.

 

I hate my dad’s mother.  And her husband, and her daughters.  That woman was never kind to any of us, least of all her own son.  She got herself knocked up, and was forced to marry, and blamed my dad for the resultant relationship.  She was a cold bitch.  My dad ran as far as he could when he was able, joining the Marines as soon as he could.  His drinking problem – which, through AA, he’d pretty much conquered by the time he met my mom – I blame entirely on that witch, and her family.

 

One of his sisters, who I’d had rare contact with growing up, made a particularly rude comment to my mother about the food on their wedding day.  “I don’t like anything Mexican.”  – My mom is Mexican, and MY family had catered the event, as they did every wedding in our family.

 

My dad’s mother once commented to my brother – something I witnessed and can’t forget – that my male cousin was her “favorite grandson.”

 

She wrote to my brother years later, letters that he wouldn’t let me see, wouldn’t tell me much about, except for a few horrid things about how as her son’s son…  Well, it was cruel and hurtful.

 

My dad died when I was 12.  He was in the hospital for 4 months.  She was the only one from his family who visited.  And she visited once.  Thankfully, he was unconscious.  She didn’t even touch him, or talk to him.

 

His father was a weak man, cowed by a horrid bitch of a woman.  To an extent, I forgive him, for being such a fucking pussy.  But that woman, that god-awful cunt of a woman, and her bitch-ass horrid fucking daughters..  I’ll never forgive.  If there’s a God, it’s his job to forgive, not mine.  I could never, would never, forgive someone who hurt my dad so much, and left such scars on his family.

 

I hate that bitch.  From the depths of my being, I fucking hate that bitch.  And her daughters.  There aren’t words to describe how much I fucking hate them.

 

I’ve tried to forgive.  I’ve tried putting myself in their shoes.  But there’s just no fucking way.  There’s no fucking excuse.

 

That was her SON.  And she broke his heart.  She failed him, time and time and time and time again.

 

How can I forgive that?  … I won’t.  Ever.


Random Thoughts, I

******WARNING: BLOG POSTS PROBABLY WILL CONTAIN PROFANITY******

 

I’m sick of this house smelling like a sick-room.  It smells like hospital rooms, and it’s really starting to wear on me.  Send scented candles, please.

 

God, I can’t even think straight.  I can’t remember the last “good” sleep I had.  One that wasn’t fraught with nightmares, or worse, pleasant dreams that left me aching and empty when I woke up.  A sleep that wasn’t alcohol-induced.  A sleep that lasted more than 5 hours.  I’m so fucking tired.

 

I had a happy moment today that made me smile and call my brother excitedly.  I’d been reading a new, non-zombie, book, by an author I’ve really enjoyed (who wrote one of my fave z-series).  And then, an infected person ripped a character’s throat out with their teeth!  I practically leapt with joy.  Still not zombies, but a zombie-like attack.  😀  Yeah yeah, I’m weird, I know.  But it put a huge grin on my face, for a little while.  ^^

 

I use commas and the word “really” far too often.

 

If the directions say “take with a glass of water,” DRINK THE GODDAMN GLASS OF GODDAMN FUCKING WATER!  ….

 

My brother finished book 4 of A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones), and that makes me happy.  He’s a slower reader than I am, but then, he’s married with 3 kids.  I sorta forgive him.  But I can’t wait till he catches up.  I could probably read all 5 books by the time he finishes book 5.  And I kinda want to.  I want to be fresh when he finishes, cuz there’s so much I want to talk about.  Namely, Jon Snow’s parentage!  The theories online…  It’s crazy.  I have hopes, but we’ll see.  And the prophecies about Dany??  I wonder.  I’m so excited to have someone to talk about the series with, it’s ridiculous.  ^^;

 

***********

 

On Books, which I love:

 

Best Z-fic, aside from the bibles of Max Brooks:

*J.L. Bourne’s Day by Day Armageddon series – not yet complete

*Mira Grant’s Feed trilogy and e-novellas

*Charlie Higson’s The Fear series – YA fic, series not completed, so much fun

 

Guilty Pleasures:

*The Twilight books, especially Eclipse

*Fifty Shades of Grey – I really did not expect to like these

*Period romance, ie: Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights – I need to read more of these

 

Can’t Live Without:

*The Sword of Truth series

*The Dark Tower books

*The Left Behind series – God or not, a really awesome post-apoc series.  Though the lack of realistic swearing is FUCKING annoying.  😛

 

***********

 

How fucked-up is it that part of me hates being so, like-able?

 

**Edited for self-preservation**

 

Hand-picked dandelions are better than roses, any day.  And an engagement/wedding ring of stainless steel or titanium means more than gold to me – a metal that’s useful, practical, and enduring.  Gold is soft, Platinum is scarce.  Need I say more?

 

S’all.


Blogging

I’ve tried blogging so often through the years, and have killed/deleted every one. Even when physically journaling, with the intention that no one will ever read it, I’ve still found myself holding back, in the remote chance that someone would find it. So blogging online, where anyone and their mom, or worse, MY mom, could possibly find it? Unacceptable.

 

Ages ago, during my first relationship, my boyfriend gave me his journal to read, to know him better. It was such a ballsy move. Afterward, he told me that it was pretty much entirely written to be read, by HIS first gf, one of my closest friends. But still, the fact that he’d share it with me was so achingly meaningful.

 

I guess I hate blogging because I.. I described relationships once as constantly giving pieces of my heart away; some small, some quite large. And inside a relationship, hopefully, that piece would be filled by a piece of someone else. But when the relationship is over, well, we all know that feeling of having gaping holes in our hearts, in our very being, ne? Blogging, putting myself out there to be known, is too reminiscent of those feelings.

 

So what do I say in a blog?

 

I scraped a dead mouse off my bedroom floor today with a 2 foot spatula. If I ever invite you over for a backyard bar-b-que, I’ll understand if you decline. 🙂


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