I am ill content

I want to be doing more...but less.

I'm pretty sure that makes sense.

My room is starting to look cluttered again. There's stuff in here that I don't use/need.

I don't want the corners to have stuff stuck into them...and I need my wall space back. I'm going to take down that wicker shelf and possibly throw it out. I picked it up off the street, anyway.

I really miss my mom. It hits me hard sometimes. Like, it shouldn't just be my dad and me here.

Let's see.
Money for California: $700. (200 down, 500 to go)
Curlformers or ...meh. I have bills to pay. I need to pay my health insurance and the thingie...the internet/cable. The gas bill is also coming up in about a week.

So....that means by next Friday I need about $270 that isn't part of my regular income. WAIT! no, that's not true. Eh. I don't know. I need to pencil it out on paper.

Topaze looks so comfortable with his head on my pillow.

I'm going to Yonkers tomorrow...that should be interesting. My dad's job is sending him up there to pick up a truck, and they would have had him take a taxi...so he convinced them to give me the money instead and I would drive him all the way up there. Somehow that worked out to only $30...not sure how that makes sense...but yeah.

I've never driven that far north before, so it should be cool. =)

I feel like reading a book. Actually, I haven't read any fan fiction in quite a long time. Might check that out...but it's so hard to find any GOOD ones.

Laters.

Focusing on ME...and a sudden turn.

I've been thinking.

I'm way too lenient. I say yes much too often. And I do it at the expense of my own happiness, progress, and well-being.

NO MORE! (Doctor Who reference...Gallifrey Falls)

But really, though. The reason I'm always exhausted is because I spend what SHOULD be my days off helping Cal work (because he couldn't be bothered to go to work when it counted) (That's really annoying me...it's a major character flaw. I won't be the one to support him if we're together in ten years...what...will there be diapers that need to be bought and school uniforms and a mortgage that needs to be paid and he will just say "I don't feel like working today?")

Starting in May, my days off will be my days off. I planned them a certain way because I knew what I needed in order to rest and recuperate. Instead, I've been spending them driving all around town or just sitting down in a car, not getting anything done.

Mondays and Tuesdays I could have been organizing the house. Sorting through my mother's things. Giving away what's not needed and putting up sentimental items. Taking bottles to the recycling location. Cleaning. WRITING.

My days off are Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday.
Monday was supposed to be a relaxing day where I just stayed home (can't tell you the last Monday I actually spent at home) and Tuesday a prep day for tutoring for the week. Saturday should be my day where if someone invites me out I can go, because I don't have anything else to do. The rest of the days, I don't have tutoring until 3:30pm at the earliest, so I just need to wake up early and I can do chores in the morning. Two hours of that each day and the house will be spic and span. Another two hours of working on my blog, and TADA, look how much I will have


**I just got a text from a friend/colleague that my former co-worker (her mom) passed away. She had breast cancer. I just spent the last ten minutes bawling my eyes out**

I was really cool with her...Ms. Burris. Gave her two cats...came to her house to tutor her granddaughter...she was cool at work...never one of those petty gossiping kinds. I knew she was sick and I bought some stuff for her and wanted to go visit her in the hospital but I couldn't bring myself to do it...it was too close, too reminiscent of what my own mother had just been through. I didn't want her to die. I mean of course, why would I want her to die? But I mean, it's cancer. WHY!?!?!?!?!? And now my friend is going through the same thing that I did just last year. It feels like there's a boulder sitting in my chest now.

I don't even know what to say or do. I have to think of what helped me when I was going through it. I didn't like all the people showing up and saying to ask if I needed anything, ones who hadn't been there...maybe I could offer to watch her girls for her for free for a couple of hours...I dunno.

Oh gawsh.

boyfriends, lol

This evening I was thinking about how many exes I've had.

Not sure why, except I was trying to figure out who I actually had feelings for versus who was just...there.

Let's see. There was Claude, in sixth grade. He was my first boyfriend. I asked him out, and he took three days to make up his mind. He used to bring me Baby Bottle Pop candies on Thursdays, and we never kissed. That relationship lasted three months, until he broke up with me one day in Literature class because "we never do anything." Eh. That was interesting.

Then there was that guy Christopher, who I couldn't stand, in seventh grade. I honestly have no idea how that relationship started, ended, or anything. Nothing ever happened there either. I really didn't like that guy. I used to kick him a lot. In the balls. Uh, sorry?

The summer between middle school and high school I met a boy at sleep away camp named Dorian. We called him Dee, and he was adorable and had the cutest smile with braces. All the girls in my cabin had a crush on him, but he chose me for some reason. He was also two years younger than me. That pretty much fizzled out a few weeks after we went back home.

Not sure exactly when...but I know I was fifteen. I dated a guy I met at church named Calvin (heh heh, I know, right?) and we had an "open relationship." I never took advantage of that (at least I don't remember doing so) but I know he did...I remember my friend Tiffany coming to me in shock and going "Your boyfriend just tried to kiss me!" Funny how I didn't care.
He has twins now, I heard. A wife too, I think.

Tenth grade there was Jean Paul. I didn't deserve him. Our relationship lasted over the summer from the end of ninth grade into the beginning of tenth. He told me he was falling in love with me. I cheated on him and then broke up with him. I wouldn't have broken up with him had it not been for a church member telling me that I had to...I didn't want to take communion because I had a boyfriend and wasn't allowed to. She told me to go take care of whatever I had to and make sure I was ready to take communion next time. So I dumped him. I still regret breaking his heart to this day...even though years later we talked again and I explained why. We're on good terms now, although we haven't spoken in years. That was my first real relationship.

Eleventh grade. Hmm. There was Stevie. I can't remember for sure if his real name was Steven...I think it might have been. I met him on Sconex, the social media website that connected high schoolers around the country. He lived in Brooklyn, and I spent one incredibly hot summer afternoon (was it summer? Or late fall?) wandering through the streets of Brooklyn (lost) trying to find Schenectady Avenue. Boulevard? No wonder I got lost. He loved drama, and used to try to pick fights with me by saying I was insecure. Never worked, lol. I'm not a person who likes to argue. That relationship lasted three months as well...once we met in person, we both agreed that we weren't actually attracted to one another. My friend Nia started to date him after me.

After him there was another Steven, except it was spelled Stefan? Stephen? Stephan? I think it's the last way. My secret nickname for him was Sekaj, because those were his initials. My even more secret nickname for him was Starer, which was what my high school bestie and I called him. We had weird nicknames for most of the guys in our school...Yellow Shirt, Starer, Pasta, Duck, Free Porn...the list goes on. Starer was a complete jerk. He was a year older than me, and basically just used me. He used to ask me for money, and I gave him about $200. I also spent like $60 on a hoodie for him for Christmas. To top it off, he tried to steal my phone, and then stopped talking to me and started fooling around with my teammate from volleyball. She was terribly apologetic once she found out, but eh. Hey. I wasn't mad at her. She didn't know. And he was a dick, anyway. I ran into him on the Ave maybe a year later, and he acted like he didn't know me. I still have the stuffed dog he gave me for valentine's day. It's cute.

The next one is the infamous Lee. The name all my friends know and hate. I lost my virginity to him a few months after I started college. Then he cheated on me on my birthday, and I decided to completely cut him off. I contemplated vandalizing his car. Never did it.

I haven't had an official boyfriend between him and now. Although there was that pseudo-relationship. But anywhoo. Isn't that kind of sad? Or maybe it's not. Maybe it means I'm strong and independent. Or just jaded and fearful.

I'm really not sure which.

The point of all this was...I never actually had feelings for any of them except the pseudo-relationship and this one now, with Cal.

Hm.

Well. We'll see how it goes.

isolation

This is not a bad thing.

I'm just thinking about it. How much time we spend alone...when there are so many people around us. Even people we want to be around.

And then we go and say we are lonely or don't want to be alone.

I mean, look at families. They interact, and then they lock themselves away in their individual bedrooms and introvert.

I dunno. Maybe only introverts do that. Maybe extroverts spend all their time talking and being together.

I miss my mom. That was random. Well, not really random, as I visited her grave today and cried something fierce. It's about time that I cried. I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to and that I'd have a day where I'd totally break down and be useless.

That happened...last month, I think it was. It wasn't nice.

The reason I mentioned that is that I remember how she used to want to be together with someone...my dad or me...she loved to talk.

She'd want to hear about every single detail of my entire day, start to finish, and it was like she was living it through me.

I never thought I'd be sitting down reminiscing about her. As in, she's not here, and I'm remembering what she was like.

She was my best friend. Like for real. A lot of people can't say that their mom is their best friend, but she really knew me, inside and out, knew when I needed time and when I needed a hug, knew to give me hugs even when I insisted I didn't want them.

I've got another tab open with Dodie Clark's song "Human."

One of the lines goes "We're just...human."

And I'm realizing...that's the saddest thing ever.

dear me,

Don't be nervous.

You are overthinking. You are rationalizing irrationally, and ruminating. Relax.

It's almost 9:00pm. You yourself had standards. You weren't going to go in so late. So of course it's okay for him to say he's getting ready for bed when you say you want to come and bother him. It doesn't mean he's annoyed by you, or bored of you. It doesn't mean he's getting tired of you.

IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT.

It simply means that he's getting his priorities straight, (you know all the years you've known him he's always gone to bed early) and decided to make a decision that's in his best interest.

The fact that he stayed on the phone with you yesterday until he said he was sleepy and his eyes were burning  means that he actually decided to talk to you even though he was super tired, just because you felt like talking. Until he literally couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

And then he texted you in the morning.

Real life is responsibility. You guys have not had a real life together so far.

It's been shirking one responsibility after the other, spending entire days and half of nights together...postponing deadlines and playing hooky from the real world.

But it can't go on like that forever. Not if you want to be a responsible adult and you wish he would be too. Not if you want to travel the world and someday have a family of your own.

Isn't it amazing how your imagination can twist things into ugly, negative pictures? Let's retrain it.

You are worthy. You are totally worth it. You're any decent guy's dream girl - no, WOMAN - and you have a lot to offer. You're talented and kind, patient and hey...you ARE beautiful.

You may have acne scars and marks from old piercings...but they tell a story, a story of who you are and what you've been through and what you've done. You also have freckles in hidden places and a smile that people have said lights up a room.

You're blessed with friends who accept you for who you are, even when they've seen you at your worst. YOU don't even know what you look like at your worst.

He does.

But although he is intertwined, this is not about him. This is about you, you believing that you are an amazing individual...hear that? INDIVIDUAL. No one else can offer what you can to the world. You have your own unique set of experiences and viewpoints that color each and every one of your actions. No one else can do anything the way you can.

And that is your strength.

And speaking of strength? You're insanely strong. Do you realize that you managed to care for your ailing mom AND hold down a stressful full-time job? You learned some lessons from it, too. How to be compassionate. How to be a rock for someone who is terrified and hurting.

And it didn't break you.

Sure, it bent you backwards and in half and twisted you into unrecognizable shapes, it displaced you and turned you upside down and wrung you inside out. It drew blood and tears from places you didn't know could leak, and it left some ugly scars that - you guessed it - add to your story.

But you're still here.

It's different now. Life is different. YOU'RE different.

That's a good thing. It means you've been through the worst you could imagine and come out on the other end still standing. Well. Standing. A lot of times you had to crawl to get to where you are now.

You are strong. And there are days where you will be tired, tired of being strong and tired of being sad. But just because a wrestler needs to rest doesn't mean that they aren't strong.

Things will always come to hurt you. That's life. If it's not one thing, it'll be another. But you can't keep on being afraid of it coming from all sides. You've survived everything in your life so far. You'll survive the rest of your life as well.

The thing is, life is made of a lot of ups and downs. And while that sounds so cliche, it's a fact. Good things happen, bad things happen, and a lot of nothings happen, too. The trouble is, there are a lot of good things tucked inside the nothings, and that makes them hard to notice and remember when the bad things come up.

But you just have to remember that they are there. And that you will always be okay.

Even though some times you won't.

But that's okay too.

Because you're still here.

And you can do this.

Resting state

Why is it that the easiest, most comfortable state to be in is one of fear and worry? It's like the moment I feel myself being happy and randomly buoyant, it's so unnatural that I force myself back down to a state of insecurity and "not caring." That's like my resting state.

And it's not a happy one, but it's comfortable. Makes me sad. I would like to stay happy. But the last time I allowed myself to be happy and hope, it crashed and burned. So now, when I feel happy, I say to myself, what if that happiness isn't mutual? Or what if it doesn't last?

Sigh. Gotta work on that if I want to actually LIVE my life.