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It’s been awhile. I’ve failed at the PostAWeek thing. I’ve failed a lot this year. And others have failed me.

October 6 – lost my job. Brutally. They didn’t give me a good answer as to why. Just a lame “you don’t have the skills and experience we require”, a severance agreement to sign, and a failed attempt to transfer my work computer files over to my server. There was little to no sympathy from the person I needed it from the most. But that’s to be expected and will make sense in the next paragraph.

November 4/5 (late night/early morning) – Irish broke up with me. Another brutal blow. Spurred by AngryGinger, who had the best of intentions to see his friends happy. I get that, though it didn’t exactly help us be happy. And now I will always “remember, remember the 5th of November” as that day. The day I lost everything. Again. The day I had to find a way back into AngryGinger’s locked house to get my glasses so I could drive home at 7am after not sleeping at all, but just crying for 6 hours. The day I twisted my ankle horribly in those stupid 4 inch heel boots while trying to find the back porch to try the sliding door to get inside. The day I again got no sympathy from those closest to me.

I don’t know if it helped him be happy, but it sure didn’t work for me. I was suddenly very much alone. And fragile. And there were at least 2 weeks with daily breakdowns, crying, yelling, anger, more crying, emptiness, and general misery. The breakdowns slowed to a few times per week, and have now abated to about twice per week.

This whole situation, including the job loss, the heartbreak, and the lack of a proper support system, succeeded in setting off my latent depression and suicidal tendencies. I was struggling everyday to even function. I wouldn’t get out of bed until after noon, would cry uncontrollably for hours, and started staying up until 4am, doing nothing at all. I constantly considered the possibilities before me. The easy solution became very appealing. With the only thought against it being, who would take care of Thomas? I’ve never had something depend on me for life. And I couldn’t do that to him. Somehow I could deal with upsetting the very few people who would really feel pain by it, but I couldn’t let Thomas become homeless again, or die in a shelter, or be raised by someone who isn’t good enough. That amuses me in a very morbid way. But still, it’s funny to think that the cat saved my life. He kept me from doing the unmentionable. So I thank him for that. Especially because things have slightly improved.

December 6 – started a new job. Not perfect, but it’s a good atmosphere, good people, great commute, and easy work.

December 9 – realized I love my job, causing my first positive manic state in a long, long time. It didn’t last long though.

December 15 – tried to reach out and open myself up to someone, and was instead torn apart, heartbroken, and then resolved not to do it again. And found that I’m definitely not ready for anything at all. Even if it seems safe.

December 16 – went to a doctor. Now I’m back on the medication. Hopefully this will help with the depression. We’ll see in a few weeks or so.

I haven’t had the energy to do anything over the last few months. Especially in the last several weeks. Hence the lack of posting. Hopefully this will be the renewal of my blogging and I’ll get back into it. One can only hope.

I’ve been avoiding writing this post because I knew what it would mean. It’d be admitting that this has all happened. Admitting that I am alone, now more than ever. That no matter what I do, and how good my life is going, something is going to come along and fuck it all up. That I can’t stop the inevitable and to try is futile, painful, and just makes it worse for everyone in the end. That enjoying the moment is all well and good, but it comes with the knowledge that there will be bad to outweigh that good, eventually. Basically that life sucks and I need to get used to having my heart broken and being disappointed and alone. But also that I need to see what I have, when I have it, and before it’s gone – but not to hold onto it too tightly, because it’ll just shrink from my affections and run away, leaving me more alone and confused than I can imagine.

Things need to change. Hopefully the new year will bring that for me.

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We’ve had Thomas for about 6 weeks now and here’s the most recent pic:

Playing Portal 2 Together

Playing Portal 2 Together

This is one of my favorite pics of him and I think it’s the only one so far that shows my face. He does enjoy being a scarf kitten, and honestly I’m not gonna complain about it. It’s adorable and much more desirable than the alternative of him running around the house like a crackhead. He’s also getting bigger, though slowly. At the vet one month ago he was a little over 2 pounds. I’m hoping this Friday he’ll weigh in at about 3.

Also, he’s taken a shine to the iPad, well all my Apple products actually. He likes playing the Friskies fishing game.

This past week has been a bit intense for me when it comes to Thomas because he decided to eat my favorite bookmark. Because it had a tassel. He destroyed it and ripped it to shreds. I’m sure he was very happy with himself. Well there was a small ceramic penguin on the tassel, which I managed to save from the first kitty onslaught. But the next night, he got to the very top of the headboard shelves and found the penguin. Now since I can’t find it anywhere, I assume he ate it. I’ve been freaking out that he is going to die because it could be stuck inside him somewhere. It hasn’t come out either end as far as I can tell, and I still haven’t found it anywhere. I’m beginning to worry again. This is why I can’t have nice things…

I’ve been talking to Spitfire a lot online in the mornings at work and today got pretty deep into the nitty gritty of relationships and our respective troubles with them. In respect to something we talked about today, I found this excerpt from Holly’s blog particularly insightful and applicable:

I guess what most of these guys are saying is “I’m not getting laid and I see that other people are, so those other people must have some super magical unfair advantage.” Well, sort of, but that advantage is a lot more common than you think, and has a lot less to do with “being a millionaire lawyer with perfect abs” and a lot more to do with “acting like women are people.” As long as women are The Challenge, The Enemy, The Gatekeeper, The Quarry, or any other fucked-up-all-to-hell metaphor, you’re going to keep having trouble with us.

If we’re people, well… no more and no less trouble than any other kind of people, is all I can promise you.

Hopefully he’ll read this. In fact, Spitfire, you really should read more of Holly’s blog. It’s quite awesome and full of sexy times and insight into the minds of the types of women who are actually worth your time. Aka not bitches, but cool geeky chicks. Who like sex. Wait, that’s redundant. Har.

I did, however, find the painful irony and unfortunate bits of me giving advice on relationships to Spitfire: I can’t seem to take my own advice. I can tell him all I want that he can do this or this and that it could help him with women, but I feel like it means almost nothing coming from someone who isn’t in the perfect relationship as it is. Sigh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with Irish, happier than with any other boyfriends I’ve had, but I’m well aware that the situation could be improved.

Actually, I was working on dealing with some problems and trying to improve our relationship through good, old-fashioned communication, but right at the climax of our chat, AngryGinger arrived for video game playing. So there’s currently a big pause button on the conversation. Hoping it’ll resume when AG leaves tonight.

And it’s nothing against him, but he has the worst timing for these kinds of things. But it’s a bit my own fault, since I knew he was coming over tonight and just couldn’t get up the nerve to talk about things with Irish until the last minute. As per usual.

Well, they’re still playing Marvel vs Capcom 3, so I’m gonna sit here and read my smut.

We were eating lunch and I found where I left off on Holly’s Blog. The post contained this paragraph:

And yet I can’t help but feel unfulfilled being unfilled. Partly this is because of baggage: if a guy can’t get it up for intercourse that means I’m not sexy and if he refuses intercourse that means he doesn’t really like me. (Especially as popular wisdom holds that guys never refuse intercourse, therefore if it happens to me it must be really bad news.) Some of that’s probably true, too. Not “augh I’m a warthog,” but “I don’t have a close enough relationship with anyone for them to be fully sexually open to me” really is true, I think.

This is how I feel way too often. I mean, I know I’m not the prettiest princess and that I really need to lose a few pounds… or 20… but that doesn’t mean I’m not attractive. Plenty of guys let me know that I’m attractive. I get hit on or at least checked out, which actually feels nice, all things considered. But what feels the best is when close friends make it clear that I deserve so much, because they think I’m special and fantastic and attractive. Granted, most of them might just say those things because they want to steal me away from Irish or something. Who knows? I can only TRY to understand what others think.

I guess what I just don’t understand then is how my current situation happens. Holly’s post was talking about having a lot of everything-but sex which was leaving her feeling unfulfilled. I would love that to be my situation. At least it’s something. I just hate feeling like I’m not attractive because I’m not getting attention from the only one who actually matters.

And it’s not like we haven’t talked about it, either. Because we have. Ad nauseam. But I guess it just goes to show that what they say is true, you can’t change a man. But I keep trying regardless.

Maybe I’m being too needy or something again.

I’m gonna go catch up on some more Pervocracy, since Irish is playing Fallout. So much for hitting the gym together. Sigh.

It’s been 8 hours and he’s not home from work. He got his car stuck near the 495 onramp. Then again as soon as he got to 495. His phone is dead or at least off. I’m worrying out of my mind and it’s late. I’m afraid he’ll freeze to death on the side of the road somewhere.

I just shoveled at least 8 inches of snow off the driveway, walk, and steps so he can get in when he finally gets here. And I cleaned my car off. I can’t really work from home tomorrow since I forgot to upload my work to the server to access remotely.

Crap.

Time for a new segment that I hope continues: Pro Tips. Here’s the first of many:

When I’m venting and bitching, just let it happen. Don’t tell me I’m wrong or try to solve my problem, unless I ask for it. Cuz really, I know why I have to do these things I bitch about having to do, but I still just need to get the frustration out of me.

Men tend to want to solve problems instead of listening. Not that I’m complaining that they want to help, but sometimes we just don’t want it.

Something women don’t tell men… Don’t help unless we ask for it. Just listen while we bitch.

Of course, the flip side of that is men like to fix stuff, so maybe we should open a bitchfest with, “just venting here” or something that triggers the “solving” area of their brains to shut down.

Based on feedback from some of my friends/readers/interwebs, I’m going to be changing the blog a bit:

  • shorter posts
  • more frequent posts
  • more focused on the topic
  • maybe add some images
  • and maybe redo the layout design (might mean moving the blog to my own server, which I don’t really want to do)

If I could use the same design I have right now, but maybe move the sidebar to the right and change the color scheme a bit, that’d be cool. I’d like to use an image of my own as the header too. But I can’t seem to do that without uploading a whole design. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done wordpress design before (see: talesofthegrey.com), but again, that was hosted on their server. And datapike.com is unavailable. I think it was open when I first adopted the handle, but shortly after that it got scooped up by spammers/squatters. Dammit. Maybe I’ll try to get datapike.net …. sigh… I don’t know.

Post your thoughts in the comments.

Just wanted to do a quick post before I leave for the day. And I just finished up a project today that’s called a “quick hit”, hence the post title.

Monday morning I woke up sick. And I mean siiiick…. It was pretty terrible. I had apparently eaten something bad on Sunday. I didn’t even leave the bathroom all morning and still went to work, then was sent home after my work for the day got distributed to others and I finished whatever I had to do then. I only got docked 4 hours and that’s out of my sick time anyway, so it’s fine.

Irish was off for MLK day and I got him to hit CVS for some Imodium and Powerade. Granted, he went out of his way and got himself lunch while he was out, even though CVS is 2 minutes from our house and I was miserable…. but anyway…

I slept and laid around all day and he played Red Dead Redemption, ignored me and my pain, and enjoyed his day off. I felt like I was imposing on him or something, since he didn’t get to have the house to himself as he wanted.

I had found all 4 Resident Evil movies recently, so we watched the first 2 that night. They were better than expected. I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep well because of them though, but I was fine. Slept like a rock in fact. And thankfully so, cuz I woke up feeling better, not 100%, but better. I went to work, ate weird “safe” foods, and muddled through.

I’m feeling a lot better now though. And although I don’t want to cut this short, it’s 5pm, and I’m outta here.

Later.

 

I already had my big plan for Valentine’s Day all worked out. I was going to drive Irish to the Verizon Store, and he could pick out his new phone, in all likelyhood the Droid X, and I would buy it for him. And an Otterbox case for it if he wanted one. This weekend ruined that.

I paid the $200 electric bill this month. I paid $400 toward the rent. So he had some extra money and decided it was a perfect time to buy his new phone. I told him he should wait, say, a month, just to be sure it’s what he wanted. And since I had to drive him there, I said I was okay with shopping for it, but not buying just yet. I didn’t want to tell him why he should wait, ruining the surprise, but figured he’d wait anyway.

I was wrong. Shocking.

Within 5 minutes of talking to an employee he said “alright, I’ll take it” and my jaw dropped. I was speechless, confused, and frustrated. I barely said a word after that until we got into the car and he asked if I was upset about it. Well, duh.

I explained to him that I was gonna buy him one for Valentine’s Day, if he would’ve just waited. And that yes, of course I’m upset about it. He didn’t listen to me. He didn’t trust my opinion on it. And he didn’t get the hint to just wait when I said it over and over and I’ve done this kind of thing before with him (I told him not to buy something because Santa might be getting for him, he understood then). He just thought I was trying to tell him how to spend his money, which I wasn’t. Admittedly, there’s part of me that is bitching inside about how he wanted me to help with rent and BGE and then he goes and spends that money on other stuff, but whatever.

He also apparently wasn’t expecting me to get him anything for Valentine’s, cuz no girl’s ever given him something before. So we decided that we were just going to call it his Valentine’s present anyway. And I told him I might still give him a card and a blowjob as a placeholder. Maybe 2. To this, he had the perfect response: “What am I gonna do with 2 cards?” Brilliant! I haven’t decided how I meant it yet. I just hope to get laid that day/weekend. Maybe twice if I’m lucky.

Totally overdid it at karaoke last night. Drank too much. Got sick. Thankfully didn’t get kicked out of the bar, but slept for a bit in my car. Got cold and turned the car on for heat, then fell asleep again, burning about a 1/4 tank of gas. Got home at like 4am. Managed to not wake up Irish, but we both slept through alarms like mad this morning. Apparently his was on purpose though, since he had some overtime to burn.

Wore my “I woke up late/I’m lazy” hat today and got to work on time, but no one was here yet. Ugh. Every time.

ArmyGuy was supposed to come to karaoke last night, but had to work late, which sucked, but hopefully he’ll come down next week. I invited Irish to come since I was going home first before karaoke, but he went out with some coworkers after work. Oh well. Maybe he’ll come out next week too.

The night started out alright. I was passing out the last remnants of peppermint bark, drinking beer, and hanging out waiting for karaoke to start. Then a guy across the bar bought me a drink (but said it was actually on the bartender girl). I gladly accepted the drink, not being one to turn down free booze, and reveled in the moment since that has never happened to me before. It was pretty cool. Even if it was actually from the bartender.

Went up and sang Lips of an Angel by Hinder while I was still sober and was actually shaking a bit, which I never do. Then sang Game of Love by Santana and Michelle Branch when I was definitely drunk. But I kept drinking.

I had been debating on getting food, but didn’t know what I wanted and then had drank too much to be hungry anymore. Big mistake not ordering food. I may have been fine if I had. Food = booze sponge.

So a few hours later, it’s getting late, probably round 11:30 or so, and I start to feel woozy. I hit the bathroom as a precaution, but turns out I needed it. I didn’t end up leaving the bathroom until almost last call, at which point I had two cups of water then hit the bathroom again. And ran into an old friend from middle school as she was holding my hair back. So ridiculous. I was miserable. I didn’t expect to get that drunk last night and I’m usually a lot more responsible than that, especially when I have to drive home afterward. I just don’t know what happened.

Some friends drove me in my car to their place and I napped for a few hours in the car. The one said she’d bring out a blanket to me, but never did. I ended up getting cold and waking up, turning the car on for the heat, and falling back to sleep, the car running for a couple hours. When I woke up, I realized all that had happened and started crying. I felt like such an asshole. I don’t know how I’m going to face the bar again.

Somehow I got gas and got home safely, though a tad perilously. Managed to not wake Irish upon my arrival. Somehow. And slept clear through my alarm going off until 8am. Didn’t actually roll out of bed til 8:15-ish though. But neither did he. Was weird to be getting ready at the same time for work. I even grabbed foods for him so that he could have a decent breakfast for once.

Speaking of food, I really need to have a bread-inclusive lunch. Thinking of hitting some sandwich place, either Subworks or Eddie’s Market I think. The former is so much closer. Hmm… decisions on an empty stomach really suck.

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