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Posted on 12/16/2006 at 10:30
I'm: hopefulhopeful
It's been a while since I last posted. I haven't had many glimpses at the computer lately, due to a certain casino-loving hog. It's strange having a life outside of the internet. Speaking of which, I finally landed my first job at the Price Chopper here (local grocer chain) and I start on Wednesday. Yesterday was my lovely 4 hour orientation on the Do's and Don'ts of the work place, 15 minutes spent explaining in great detail the modern advances of today's box cutter. I'm actually excited as strange as that sounds. For I while I was wondering if I would ever enter the oh-so mysterious job world anytime soon. This is what social deprivation does to me.

Aside from that everything is going good if you don't count my diet going to shit, consisting of nothing but soda and frozen/ take out, but that can be fixed. As you can tell, nothing super interesting to say, yet another waiting period. I've been thinking a lot about what my life will be like a year from now and I really can't make anything out. I'm just glad I'm headed in that direction.

By the way, I managed to get my new journal somewhat up-and-running, so if anyone still reads my ramblings, feel free to add pantoporcelain to your list.

It's 5:20 in the morning here, and I guess maybe because I'm tired but restless I have the urge to write something down. I really don't know what to write about, but I usually just tell myself the best way to start is by telling the truth and stating the obvious.

I have little flashes of thoughts in my head that actually say a great deal more than their literal meaning. It feels so good to write something with a pen again. Why? Because I haven't actually written anything while while down in at least half a year. I haven't done anything, period. Laying on this bed with the pillows propped up and my neck positioned the same way I've done it a million times before makes me feel like I've slept on it wrong for a week. My wrist is even uncomfortable writing this. Haha, my handwriting has gone to shit. It's sad when you realize what it all means.

I went through my box of random scribbles and letters yesterday. I'm a major packrat and it took a couple of hours, but I managed to read a good portion of anything revelant. Some of it is just loose sheets of paper with me pining over whoever I happened to be with and whatever they were doing to me at the time, which was never good. I laughed when I read my ramblings about Richard and Tommy - it's quite humorous how I overly disect some guy avoiding me and why that could be happening to me. Tommy specifically was only 2 exes ago, but I really didn't have the ability then to be all that logical before emotional. I can say that it was the first relationship where it occured to me that leaving WAS infact an option, that sometimes things just don't work out and that's okay. The present-day me probably wouldn't be too sympathetic - it was writing on the wall, as were much of my previous relationships. The pain I experienced was real, but I'm glad I learned a thing or two since.
I read their notes to me, notes from Farmington kids, even from Laura and Sunshine, and no matter what they were about I laughed. I really did, I LOLed. I couldn't explain in words why, but I sat down intially to read them and throw them away forever, and somehow my life made sense, and I felt happy. Not bitter, it just was.

I keep randomly panicking about my flight to Vermont and it's getting annoying. What if I can't handle it? What if the plane is too this or too that? What if I miss my connection? If my luggage gets lost? The flight gets cancelled? On and on until I break out in a sweat and my insides go tight. This waiting period is killing me, the fact that everything around here is changing without me and knowing if I have to stay here for longer I'll only be snubbed, in the way of their "redecorating" since they're apparently not getting a house right away and she's moving in... *rolls eyes* Then I KNOW I'll go off the deep end and wind up stuck here in some Indiana prison for murder.

Lately I've been craving reading a book or watching a movie. I think it all started when I watched 3 of the Harry Potter movies. I can honestly say that those movies are stupid and horribly disappointing, but the concept is so lovely that I'd do it all over again, and I might. For now I'm rereading Stephen King's IT.  I'v already reread Janet Finch's White Oleander, V.C. Andrews' Midnight Whispers and the diary Go Ask Alice just for the hell of it. I guess since I'm stressed out about the change ahead of me I feel comfort in getting into a good plot. Plus I'm in need of that type of subliminal pep talk movies usually give to get me inspired and motivated about myself again.

While I was in the middle of reading IT, I took a break to pick at a jagged fingernail I'd been subconsciously rubbing on when my head suddenly said to me like it was someone else, "Maybe he's right, maybe you are running away." And I followed that with a bunch of "why?" questions like I usually do.

"Why would you run away?"
"Because there's nothing left for me here."
"But why is there nothing left?"
"Because one episode after another pushed our problems to the forefront until it exploded, we went our seperate ways in resentment, and here we are."
"Then why are you running away? Why don't you make amends of the situation? He IS your one and only father you know."
"Because both of us silently agree that it's too far gone to fix, whether he claims to or not. Actions speak louder than words. We sit and laugh while we still can pretend that nothing's wrong. I for one can't handle the condition that it's in."

Of course, it clicked that this up-and-moving sever of ties is all I've known and done since the beginning, like I discussed with David. He made the comment that I'm so used to picking up and starting fresh again, and like I said to him, I fuck up and move on without another word. Maybe that IS a quality of my mother's. Maybe I can;t stand the humiliation of someone knowing the real fuck-up me, and not only that, but pointing it out and having a problem with it. Someone telling me I'm wrong to whatever degree. And it's true, I've been running away every chance I get, through 11 schools in 4 states and more "homes" than I can count, every fuck up I make. I become a self-fulfilling prophecy for the rest of the ride until I glady scoot my ass out of there. I'm doing it right now even, I'm not empowering myself to show my dad that I'm more than he thinks, I'm sitting here hiding in the shadows and out of harm's way, bending whichever way the wind blows. I tell myself that Vermont's a fresh start with the only person who's stayed with me for this long, yet in reality we're both just clueless children in life starting from nowhere.
But I'll tell you this, going to Vermont this summer changed that. I came back, made my decision, and showed my dad for a good while that I am better. I held on to the idea that if you think you should do it, you probably should, and I did. Even living with my mother, I've never had so much determination as 19 years have given me. More importantly, what Ross has given me. It's all thanks to Ross and the love that he's shown me since we met and became friends. I've never in my life wanted to better myself for the sake of someone else, for their benefit, to be there for that person and be what both of us deserve. I've never wanted to work hard for someone else, ever. Truthfully. That's where all my faith came from leading up to my decision. That's how I know it's going to work. We're clueless children but we love each other in ways we both probably didn't know possible, and that's the driving force in our lives. There's a shitload to learn about life and each other, but it's going to happen. He's my true partner in crime.

I know I'm not anywhere near thick-skinned. I know I'm not just an innocent victim in this house. I know I'm completely ass backwards like you wouldn't believe from the life I've lead. But just the same as I won't admit I'm "wrong", neither will my dad. We're too much alike, we're like magnets with the same charge, you put us together and we only repel. If I felt safe enough in the first place to grow as a person from his criticism and ideas the way he wants me to, maybe I would gladly admit that some of my beliefs and actions are "wrong" and be a lot more open to his opinions. But what good would that do when it's to a man who's strategic enough to gobble that up as a weakness, puff out his chest at me with no compassion or respect and completely control me for what it's worth as if the REAL person I am didn't just bear my naked soul? That right there is the root of the problem, the very core of it. There's no real compassion for any "improvements" made, no real care for who I may be as long as I sign and comply. In 4 years, it's been hitting me one sentence, one command at a time and here we are. It would never change. He'd turn me into a monstrous unfeeling robot, or a dim-witted 30-year-old Oprah worshipper who can't think for themselves. I've lived for no one but me all my life, and I won't start by living for that type of treatment. I'll live for Ross, who could probably care less if his food isn't served exactly piping hot, or if I ask him to do a favor for me on a not so good day or put the washer on cold instead of warm. I wouldn't mind doing everything I've done here and more if it was handled with more compassion and respect. I'd be hop, skipping and fucking jumping, and that's what I feel with Ross, whose pride isn't burning a hole through the roof.

I feel a lot better now that that's off my chest and in front of my eyes. It's one thing I'm finally caught up with, I've been neglecting everything else that doesn't allow me to run away from my problems. I can't even write Hannah back within a day, and my grandmother and great grandmother are stilling awaiting birthday letters, no to mention I'm taking my sweet time packing. For the sake of everything, if I feel like I should, I probably should. Why is it so painful just to go to bed, get up, take a shower and do things at a decent time without procrastinating or not doing it at all? What the hell am I waiting for?

Thank you, all of you guys. I mean it. I know you're downright sick of hearing this and I've aired out my dirty laundry enough, but I need to painstakingly "disect" all this going on inside and outside in order to comprehend this mess before I go insane. You gotta love me, Miss High Strung, Type A Worry Wart who's probably going to die of a heart attack in her 40s or something. But thank you for all your advice, you've really helped me out.

Ow my hands.