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Writing on 9/2: I gotta get myself out of the friend zone, but for now the friend zone is the best thing that could ever happen. It's perfect. No sex, because sex is the death of relationships before they even get a chance to bloom. It is better to be friends first, and that is the pure and simple wisdom of a pure and simple soul that is giving me everything I wanted but was unable to obtain before. I am grateful. I will stop gnashing my teeth. Just give me time to process. Hold me back when I bolt.
Looking through my poems to see which might be suitable to post on the blog. I recycle old poems because I lack the inspiration to write new ones. Then I forget which ones I posted on my blog before, so I cease to post anything at all. It's funny how few people can keep up with blogging for very long. Woo, my heart hurts and my stress will be burned off (or maybe added to?) by the end of the long Labor Day weekend. Too much has happened for me to adequately process it all. My heart is broken. IDK.
Writing on the 4th... Mother Teresa is to be canonized today. For a person so beloved by the world, she sure had her moments when people disliked and even flat-out hated her, or saw her as a hypocrite. Something about the filth in which she lived or the unsanitary conditions under which she cleansed people. I'm not sure of the whole story. It was on CNN, but I didn't bother to read it. I'm not saying she is perfect; none of the saints were. But we have to admire what they have contributed to the world: all their love.
I won't compromise. Sacrifice does not come easy to me. I want to impose my will, and sometimes I am unable to because of people-pleasing, and I wish that did not have to be the case. Everyone's birthday is in September. Why is that? Who knows. I don't care all that much. It was just a random observation and a distraction from the fact that I don't know what to think about compromise. A woman must make sacrifices. It's not about people-pleasing. It's about how life is supposed to be hard and you must suffer great pain throughout.
Haven't gotten as much of a chance to introvert/decompress as I would like, although I did write an 800-word blog post yesterday. Have to compile as much as I possibly can into the weekdays. Still need to get back on track with writing. I am waiting to get an uninterrupted hour, but I may never get that, so I may have to become one of those writers who simply makes the time whenever she has even the slightest bit of time. But those bits of time are better spent on 100 words, which are nowhere near perfect.
I get my perfectionism from my mother. If it's not perfect, she freaks the hell out. I try not to be like that, but it's impossible when it's been ingrained in me from an early age never to make a single mistake. She'd say she never did that to me, but she did. She basically told me if you're not perfect you fail. It wasn't in anything she said; it was in stuff she did and the way she acted toward me, and I felt like failure should never happen and it was not OK. Here's to failing and rising.
All of a sudden people want to befriend me on LinkedIn. Not sure how I feel about that. It depends on whether they know me in real life, but I have an idea of why they might be befriending me. Could be spammers. You can never be too sure of the motives of the people on the Internet.
As a side note, I hate sweating. I really do. I don't wear antiperspirant because I think I'm allergic to it. It makes me feel as if I can't cool off. But the deodorant I use isn't very strong smelling, which stinks. Literally.
Agh, people get so clingy. I guess it's OK, but when you call my phone and my ass starts vibrating, I have to answer you just to stop it. Sorry I'm not home right now, I'm walking into spiderwebs, and what have you. You know the No Doubt song. What? You haven't listened to No Doubt? What kind of rock are you living under? I'm finding it very difficult to understand.
People in chat rooms are so odd. I'm not big on chat; got too many other things to be doing that seem more productive. It's nice to help people, but...
I finally found a song I had been searching for for about four million years. And I managed to use "for" twice in a row and it doesn't sound completely and utterly wrong yet. Amazing. And the D and the A and the M and the N and the A and the T and the I O N. You know that song? Well if you don't, you ought to. I realized that the band who sings it originated in my state, which is probably why the local radio station used to play the song all the time. Good times, good.
The 15th anniversary of September 11 is tomorrow, and it's too sad to think about. I wish they wouldn't play footage from it on the front page of CNN. Isn't that traumatizing? It was traumatizing to me and I wasn't even there. Freaky enough seeing it on TV and wondering what the heck was happening to the world. I don't doubt that there will be another tragedy of similar scale, especially if a certain politician gets elected. Neither of the two are fit to run the country, but there is little we can do at this point. We made our beds.
Yesterday I bought a chapel veil, which is something I've been wanting to do for a very long time. Found some butterfly clips to secure it with. One day I will pass it down to my daughter, if I have a daughter. I'm going to do the best I can to consecrate myself to Mary and remain pure and calm as I would imagine her to be. I think the first step would be to continue on the relinquishment of my music, as I have been attempting to do. Keeping a log of sorts of my sin, going to confession.
Writing on the 13th and scribbling to get all my words down before I go insane. Nothing else I can really say. Wondering when my boyfriend will break up with me because this seems to be a pattern; he is a serial dater. Kind of like that song that goes "I'm only going to break your heart" and I realize that I will get stamped on and smashed and it's not going to be right because I feel very attached to him. Apparently, many other women did, too, and there's not much I can do about being last in line.
But to mope about the loss of boyfriend before it's even happened: yeah. I guess I'm waiting on tenterhooks, trying to enjoy myself and have a happy life, but the good thing is that I have to analyze. I have to get there first, and I have to break up with him before he throws in the towel with me. I'm not a brash, loud bitch. I'm soft spoken and kind and a match for him in intelligence. I can make him better than he is, and I'm sure that's what they all thought, too. I'm not a fool.
Go away, you brown-noser, you. Don't try to butter me up with useless words. But I have to remember to butter men up. Give them ego trips. They like that. A woman is supposed to stand behind her man and be encouraging, tell him he can do it. I don't operate like that. I don't like when people tell me I can do it because I just go out there and do it myself regardless of whether I can do it or not. I have closed myself off and I must remember how to open if it's not too late.
Agh. I wish I was smarter, but that's when humility must come into play. I'm not the smartest, but I'm not the dumbest either. And I have to be OK with that. It's hard to reconcile that with myself. I've always been used to being the smart one, and I can't always do that. Intelligence is such a tragic flaw sometimes if you don't give the proper credit to God who gave you that intelligence. I just want to be smart enough for a certain person... supposedly I am already smart, but I can't think on my feet that well.
Writing on the 17th: It's been two months and what a fraught two months have they been. You can't rescind the 3-6-9 strategy; I will operate under that no matter what happens. There is commitment but there is no commitment. We are going to be like your grandparents, eternally devoted to each other. You, whittling things out of wood, and me, the quiet matriarch who has nothing to say but listens to all of your words. Loving to our children and our grandchildren. Passing on the faith with every breath we draw, in this sick world we've been through.
I'm the man in the box... sings Alice in Chains. I wonder if the origin of that band name had anything whatsoever to do with Alice in Wonderland... perhaps Wonderland is the land of the free, and chains is obviously the opposite.
the one whom my soul loves knows all the lyrics to my favorite songs. the one whom my soul loves is the erasure of my past. together we will defeat the past and come out stronger. we will move past all that together and be stronger for it. there is a reason you entered my life when you did.
I don't care what anyone says. I'm going to keep the faith and Fully Rely on God no matter what happens. Not going to let my irrational brain take over and win against me. I like having strong emotions, but I hate the urge to run that I constantly get. I love being alone, but I know that being alone is not going to change the world. It's not going to bring anyone to salvation. I'm not a feminist. I don't care. If I found a decent man, I'd make him sandwiches and bring him beer whenever he wanted it.
Gotta write my 100 words even though it's way past my bedtime. I don't want to get too far behind, but it's a likely story. Nothing else to say, really. Well, the stuff I want to say is far too personal to broadcast on the Internet. Let's just say that I know what my purpose in life is and it's to help others, but I'm not sure I'm doing it in the correct way or channeling my energies right. Boyfriend donated a ton of books to the church. In a way, I wish he had kept them for us. Selfishness.
Time for the dog to have her ten o'clock pee-pee break. Why do we call urine "pee" and feces "poop"? Why are shit and piss jokes so much fun to tell? Why are dirty sex jokes fun to tell? Why do we laugh at stuff like that? I guess because it's common to the human experience and it's how we can get through life in an easier way. I wish I didn't constantly have the urge to run, but it happens sometimes. I'm not letting go. I'm staying put... at least till we get to the three month mark.
How does an angel get its wings? How do some conversations end so stupidly and others end up so heavily? Why did I not get to go to confession today? Why did they have class? The priest was at a retreat and was unable to hear confessions. Somehow I am the only person who knew about this. My soul mate is a silly kid. I don't know how I'm going to survive this, but I will rely on God and have him lead the way. I know exactly what I'm doing and that's all there is to it. Nothing else.
Not done writing all my stuff. Not sure I'm going to finish. I feel like I have ADD, but that's an insult to people who actually suffer from that, and I feel as though that could be some kind of mistake. I understand that it would be a type of suffering to have your mind constantly going off in different directions and being unable to control it. I do think diet has a lot to do with mental health, although that could just be my own observation. Diet and a regular schedule of sleeping and eating and waking and breathing.
Love is pain, more than anything. You have to be willing to put up with pain for the person you love. Nothing boring. Just flat-out pain. I hate jealousy. I wish I wasn't such a jealous person, but there is nothing else I can say about that. It's all in my head. If he wants to go back to his ex or leave me for someone else, then that's his loss. He needs to make up his mind and make it up good. Yes, you have history with a person, but it's not necessarily a good thing. It sucks.
It's better to be alone. Easier. Less pain. There come those times of aching loneliness, but life is all about pain. There is no place in life where one can be safe from the pain. So I guess I better suck it up. I feel less pain being single, but is that a reason to avoid relationships altogether? Probably not. Maybe it's just a reason to press on. I don't want to seem like I don't have a life outside of the relationship, and I know that I have a life outside of the relationship. Does having a lot of friends constitute a "life"?
Nothing like listening to Michael Savage before a trip and going through the TSA. The worst thing about traveling by plane is the way your ears pop. Fortunately my flight isn't going to be very long, so it may not be to the point where I'm deaf for the entire trip. In a way I wish I was going to the Memphis airport. I like that airport because the last time I was in there, there was nobody there. I know the whole point of airports is people watching, but I was able to concentrate on reading a book at Memphis.
Writing on the 27th. What is art? An expression of the longing of the human soul? A yearning to get closer to God? I don't know. Some grasping at eternity, I believe. A reach toward the moon and the stars and the clouds and even beyond that. Past the heights where humans have traveled. Past the outer reaches of the universe. God is infinity and infinite and eternal and eternity, all in one. He is the creator of all art, of all that is lovely and worthwhile in this world. He is the keeper of true beauty and that's all.
Rushing, rushing, but I don't mean to be rushing. Today's the day I let go of the past (although I say that every day and I try by turns to make it true). I found a hotel (although I think it's all hotels) that did not have a thirteenth floor. I took a picture of the hotel buttons without 13 and saved it to my phone as its wallpaper. This is a great and deep symbolism to me and will either remind me of the past or remind me to forget it. I need to remove the demon head from my wall.
Writing on the 30th... I better finish this batch. This month was another roller coaster. I think it will be this way from here on out. I feel as if as long as I have my alone time, I'll be OK and there won't be anything to worry about. I need my time to myself to get caught up and get my stuff cleaned up and get my mind in order. If my room and my space are not clean and organized, neither is my mind and I devolve into a wailing, whining mess. It's not that bad. I'm overdramatic.
Still writing on the 30th. I really want the super premium collection box that just came out for Pokemon. I wish I still played the game. I'd be over at the game store kicking everyone's butts, but it's probably only little kids who play anymore. I wish I was a kid again. Actually, I don't even think the local game store sponsors Pokemon tournaments because the game just isn't that popular anymore, which is a shame. They of course do Magic tournaments. I could get into that, but I like Pokemon way too much to give it up that easily.
Washed my hair with hotel shampoo and conditioner and it smells like oranges. The body wash smelled so strongly of citrus that I feel like I'm a giant tangelo. The skinniest tangelo in the world but still a tangelo. I feel the mad urge to listen to music, but I don't know what I want to listen to. I miss my boyfriend. Never thought I'd hear myself utter those words again, but despite the fact that he gets on my nerves, I love him. Strange. I really never thought I would ever fall in love again. Surprises happen, I guess.
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