Is it just me or is this a really strange question? It comes from a self-testing chapter review thing on this site:
19. New horse racing sensation Dog Meat, about to win the Kentucky Derby by 47 lengths, suddenly pulls up just before the finish line because he spots the legendary Mr. Ed in the stands and demands an autograph. It seems that Dog Meat has lots of wonderful memories spent watching ancient reruns of Ed's TV show while engaged in "horse-play" with long-time steady flame Trashy Lady. These memories of the good-times are likely stored in Dog Meat's _____ memory.
A. episodic
B. iconic
C. echoic
D. prototype
And this is what I said to him:
"Hey Joey--
For the most part I'm alright. I'm in a really good
mood today. Everything is fine with my friends.
Really, immediately after I stopped thinking about this
place as an obstacle between me and the rest of my life
and made it my home, everything changed. I actually
have no intention of coming home ever (long-term), as
long as it's financially possible.
Honestly, I miss you too but I don't know if I'm ready
to be your friend yet. I mean, today I feel great but
I still get down sometimes. So we will "see what
happens," I suppose. I may need not to talk to you
still. Here's a cool picture I took today.
Amber."
The picture I sent him was this one. There was a fat sunset today. Yoni said New Orleans has the best light he's ever seen, except for maybe Jerusalem. For the most part, I don't pay that much attention:
Joey wrote me today:
"Hey. Just wanted to say whats up and hope that you are feeling ok and
everything and hoping that everything with your friends is fine. I miss
talking to you. I admit it. Insomnia is still part of my routine, which
sucks, but it makes me think. So yeah, just thought I'd drop you line and
see what happens from that.
Joey"
How self-righteous is he? We'll "see what happens from that." It's been (according to my calendar with the big Xs through each day) 15 days since we've spoken. That doesn't sound like a long amount of time. It isn't. Damnit. Now I really do have to tell him I don't want to talk to him for a while. Definitely not on the phone. I don't want to talk to him on the phone.
So I know, now, almost for certain that he doesn't read this thing. I mean, he'd have to search for it but it wouldn't be impossible. He knows I have a blog and I can be found through Google if you put in the right words.
(Excellent lyric break: I only wanted to be sixteen ... and free. That's from the song "Wonder" on Blind Melon's self-titled album.)
So in any case, it's nice to know he still cares about me and all but I think I'm still in love with him. I don't feel like it at this exact moment but did I not write "Your Friend" three days ago or something (couple of posts down). I don't think I want to be his friend yet. I don't think I'm quite ready to be his friend.
The question that arises, however, is which will bring me greater pleasure in the long-run. If I was unable to grasp the concept of delayed gratification, I would tell him how much I hate him and that he is a jerk and I never want to talk to him again. Or I could say something like "I really think I'm over you. I've been out having lots of fun. We really weren't meant to be, I suppose." But then there's the other side of me (a large side) that wants to get back together and feel love again. Do I necessarily want that from him? No, I don't think so. But someone else? There's no one else. There definitely could be, though. I deserve love and all. (By the way, I'm in such a good mood today. Is it because I went to meditation club yesterday? I always found that meditation shit really boring but maybe it was because I was doing the same exact thing every week. Miss Vail isn't exactly the perfect leader. My thoughts are everywhere. This isn't making for a very good post. "Give us another poem!" my invisible readers shout. "Okay," I say, "I'll come back when I have something.")
Last thought: If I had killed myself already, this email would just sit in my in-box, unread. I could have been dead when he decided to write me. But, alas, it seems incredibly difficult to actually off yourself, unless you're down for bleeding to death or poisoning yourself with stuff that eats your stomach from the inside out or something equally horrible and painful. If I'm going to die, I just want to fade away. I don't want to thrash and burn and die. I could light myself on fire but who wants to light themselves on fire? If I was really intent on dying, I'd probably just jump out the window and try to land on my head. Then again, only 9/10 people that jump off a 6-story building die. That's a big risk to take.
My words,
hung so carelessly on the air(page)
like paper butterflies
come falling back down
past remembrance,
past regret
and now every word I can’t take back
hangs above my head,
refuses to disappear.
My own maldición(malediction).
I wrote the pages of my own demise.
Those things that seemed so unlikely
now speak a truth (in)conceivable
to me at the time.
Now my words have manifested in my life --
I relate to myself.
I relate to words to which
I have given wretched meaning,
long after their birth.
My own writing that once was lifeless
now breaths and hisses at me,
refuses to die in an undug grave.
Before it happened, I felt it coming, unaware --
a train wreck I understood
by putting my ear to the track.
An irony that does not let me escape.
I have written the pages of my own pain.
Now I must sit back and watch
this fate appear
like ugly blooms rising up through
the dirt -- weeds I have watered
with my own unspent tears.
I couldn't go to sleep last night before I wrote that. I realized, as I was starting to drift off (don't things just get really clear right before you fall asleep?) that all those poems I wrote about things I had never experienced were telling my story now. I realized that poems I had written were about me now. When I wrote these things, I had never felt love; I had never known real loss. I thought how horribly ironic and crushing a thought it is that some of my poetry as come true. Then I think about all the really horrible ones I've written and I honestly get scared. I've written about divorce and getting beat to shit and rape and sucking a guy's cock who didn't "trust me as a person." Are all these things going to happen to me? I hope not. It's scary having these predictions above my head, though.
And another thing. Did I come to Tulane because New Orleans is in a Counting Crows song? Did the lyric
I will wait for you in Baton Rouge
I'll miss you down in New Orleans
I'll wait for you
while she slips in something comfortable
and I'll miss you
when I'm slipping in between
change everything? Am I here because I listened to August and Everything After so goddamned many times? Could be, could be. But then again, I think the city suits me -- the clash of rich and poor, black and white, old and new, things falling apart and others standing the test of time -- music, culture, language, politics, religion, spirituality, texture. If I could use one word to describe New Orleans, that would be it: it has texture. New Orleans is a city of many layers. And now I'm one of them, or, at least, part of one of them. So do I belong here after all? I think I might. I can stand the humidity most days. I have no problem thinking about living here for the next seven years (med school) or even living here, period. It's not getting sucked up into the ocean anytime soon. Thank you, Counting Crows. (AND I get to see them in five days!!!! I'm so excited. It will be only the second time I've seen them. Yay yay yay. I hope they don't play too much from Hard Candy. I haven't gotten a chance to know all the words yet.)
Fine fine fine. I'm always "fine." Interesting how it's so commonplace, so habitual just to lie straight-faced. How are you? "Fine."
I exchanged a few words with Gabriel Sloan last night. I've been considering going down and telling him that he makes me feel stupid and that's why I don't want to hang out. That's not something you can curb. You're either condescending or you're not. He knows a lot about psychology, apparently. He can manipulate people. You can't really trust anybody. Am I that bitter? "You can't really trust anybody." Damnit. Yeah, I am really that bitter. But I don't really want to be friends with Gabriel Sloan. Maybe we'll take a walk tomorrow or something. I do feel guilty when I see him that I haven't told him why I don't hang out with him. Ah, life. Fuck.
I miss having a boyfriend. It sucks. All I think about are the good things. I liked it so much better when I was raging mad at him and thought about all the times he hurt me or did something stupid or said something mean. Grr. Now all I think about are the times he made me feel really special and the times when I really really loved him and the times when it seemed the only thing he cared about was me. Eva told me I shouldn't meet someone new because he would just be a transition guy but I want a transition guy! I want someone to pull me out of this crap and lead me into the world of non-Joey, other guys.
And I saw Gabriel Sloan yesterday. I don't see him very often but every time I do, instead of politely ignoring me like a normal person would do, he asks me why I haven't been to his room in so long. You know what the honest truth is? He made me feel stupid. So I don't want to hang out with him. Who wants to feel dumb? Not me. I feel dumb enough as it is.
One more thing. Happenstance took me to the Funky Butt last night. It's a very cozy little jazz house. But I realized that I just don't like jazz. There's no beat. There's no melody. It's just not my thing. Jazz is not my bag.
It seems like it was all so long ago. Even last weekend, when nobody wanted to go to Fresh Art with me and it made me sad. It seems like ages ago. And Joey leaving me? That was months. It had to have been. But it hasn't. It's been two and a half weeks. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? My friend Gina told me a little while ago that if you can say "it seems like forever ago," that it's not in your mind so much -- it's a good thing. But what if it seems like so long ago because the time in-between has been so slow to pass? It seems like a million years ago that we were happy and together and in love and all. But school seems like it's flown by. We only have about a month left, total. Of course, school isn't officially over for me until December 17th, the date of my last final, but if you add up all our breaks and shit, we have a month left. That's insane. Absolutely nutty.
And I'm getting sad again, goddamnit. I don't want to be sad. I want to be happy. And I think about boys and how no one will love me. But I also take comfort in the fact that we were just like everybody else. I mean, we got comfortable with each other very fast and that probably felt like love but wasn't really. I think sometimes that he kind of forced that comfort onto me, though...I probably never would have felt that way if he hadn't said and done everything he did. Fucking hell, he wasn't perfect either. He had just as many problems as everybody else and maybe we wouldn't have been happy together. Maybe we would have fought and fought and fought. Maybe. I guess I wouldn't hold onto this as strongly if I felt that there was something else for me. I have to believe that there will be somebody else, maybe multiple somebody elses that will love me and take care of me and make me feel good. Bottom line, though, is that I shouldn't need someone else to make me feel good. That's why I'm trying to just be with myself and take care of myself and do right by me. Because I'm the only one I can count on 100%. I would have said I could count on Joey too, before. I don't know how I will ever trust anyone again. It's so much easier to only depend on myself. I know I'll be there when I say I will. I have complete faith in me.
I've been thinking about this. I can't be his friend until I'm not in love with him anymore. How long will it take before I'm not in love with him anymore? Will I be over him in a month? I don't think so. I need to not want to be with him before I can talk with him, or else I'll hang on his every word. Friendship isn't a mutual dependence anymore than love should be. I'm getting a bit down again. The Gin Blossoms can be very depressing if you actually listen to the words and not just sing along, blind. It's funny about music. Certain songs on cds I listen to all the time, know by heart, affect me very differently now than they used to. Adam Duritz' singing about losing Elisabeth is so much closer to home now. I actually started crying when I was listening to Recovering the Satellites. I've always known the songs were sad. Now I understand that pain. How can he stand to sing about it? I can barely stand to sing along. I guess I'm not really a writer -- some things hurt too much to write for me.
I bought my tickets to Voodoo Fest. I, of course, cannot afford this splurge but I would rather suck up to my parents for long amounts of time and/or skip dinner out a couple times to see Counting Crows. I realized, today, as I was paying the outrageous $36.75 for the tickets that I had hardly listened to Hard Candy (CC's newest release) at all. It's not...depressing enough. So now it's perfect, really, because I don't want to be down. It's still not as good as August and Everything After or Recovering the Satellites. I still love Adam's voice though.
And this guy Max in my bio class says I don't have to have a Plan B. He says I can just chill for a while and not know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. That sounds good to me. And there's always been two things I want to do with my life, the second of which I had forgotten for a long time until just recently. I have always wanted both to be a psychiatrist and own my own vintage store. So if I can't hack it in the science classes, why not go for the other one? I'm going to a meeting today where they tell you about how to get into the business school. I could do business. Maybe. Econ was a breeze (ha). Would you all shop at my vintage store? I'll give you a discount if you mention the site.
According to this website, jumping off a 6-story building (i.e. out my window) has only a 90% chance of fatality. That means being a paraplegic for the rest of my life. That'd beat this hands down, I'll bet. But why does it have to be all sadness and pain? And when it is good, they take it away from you. Do some people have dispositions that allow you to be happy and others not? Am I of a bad disposition and will pay for it the rest of my life with endless trial, sadness and pain? Maybe that's why it's so goddamn hard for me to lose Joey because it's been the only time since early childhood that I've actually been happy. I'm worried that no one will ever love me again.
And I'm not pulling grades. I need As to get into med school. If I'm not going to be a doctor, I have no idea what my life is going to be. If I lose this, it will be pretty much the last thing I have left to lose. The rest is a short fall. Not living sounds like such a better option. Do some people have a disposition to kill themselves?
(I'm not writing this here for attention. I don't get attention because of this thing. I never really have. I write it because I write more and better when I type. My paper journal is very clean.)
I'm in a pretty dumpy mood right now. I was supposed to be orchestrating this Fresh Art thing and it didn't work out. I'm disappointed because, inevitably, it doesn't feel like people rejected the art thing but rather that they rejected me. I may or may not go. I don't really want to anymore. But then again, I shouldn't be pooey. Nobody likes a poo-head. And I think about Joey constantly still and for the most part, I'm alright. But when I get down, I get down about everything. This is the first thing I've written in ages:
I don't want to be your friend,
my love --
your hugging but not kissing
and let's love and not love.
What I need from you is more than that
and you expect me to forgive you,
to lay down my arms
and be weak again.
But I will never be weak again
for you.
Trust or understanding,
compassion and love.
Now I see you need them all
so how can I be your friend?
Don't ask me to lay down my arms
for you, my love --
because I will and you,
you will take more from me.
You will take from me more
than I even possess.
You can't touch me now.
Can't touch me.
I won't let you.
I won't let you.
Just try and make me weep.
You can't even touch me now.
You can't touch me.
I have two matters to discuss today: one has nothing to do with me and the other somewhat affects me.
One, Wherify. I saw a commercial for this shit yesterday. It is a bracelet that you strap on your kid that allows you to track him all over the world. I sat there with my jaw open watching the commercial. My god, is this what we've come to in today's society? This is one of the most horrific products I have seen in a long time. The bracelet even has a locking device that prevents removal. Seems to me like you need to get your kid a cellphone before you strap on some honing device. My Lord that's invasive and insane.
The second is about dorms. Before yesterday, I had never been in Mo, the other freshman-only dorm. (Okay, there's a third but it's all girls and nice and pretty and old. We won't deal with that.) So Mo is a dump. I see it every day. I have a beautiful view of it out my window (the large similar building in the background is my dorm), but I'd never been inside. But now, I am so happy that I live in Sharp. I never realized that I got, by far, the better of the two dorms. Long live Sharp!
I'm not so bad off here, I suppose. I wouldn't be any better anywhere else. It's very depressing thinking about it like that, actually. This place is as good as any. There's no place where I would be perfectly happy. Oh well. I suppose that's the way it is for everyone. I'm getting over hating Joey so much. There was a hangup message on our recorder when I got in last night at 3 am. It was made at 1am. So the first thing I thought was "I hope it was Joey desperately needing me" but it passed pretty quickly. It has never been my intention to be raging mad at him for an extended period of time. I think I just needed to be really mad at him for a while. Because he deserves it anyway. He did some fucked-up shit. But it's alright. I still don't want to be friends yet, though. I don't know if I ever will but I probably will. We might be able to be friends. Maybe when I'm with somebody else -- so I won't wish for that love that we had. I had a dream last night about holding and being held by someone that wasn't him. I'm not exactly sure who it was, but I knew that he didn't really love me but I didn't care because he was willing to hold me like that. It wasn't a bad dream. I really think I'm starting to get over Joey. This not talking thing is really good for me. It needs to continue for a while.
So I went out last night to Bourbon. I'd only been there once before (with friends and stuff) and before I didn't drink. And goddamn is it a lot more fun if you do. It's great for self-esteem, too. I have big-ass tits so when we're walking through the crowd, people point at you. They choose you out of all the other girls standing around and want you to show yours. And some of them just give you beads for not doing anything. It's tight. Of course, I didn't flash anybody, but if I had been much drunker I probably would have. Except that people come with cameras. That's just creepy.
Am I starting to lose it? I'm getting really annoyed at my roommate. Just now, I was sitting here playing Spider Solitaire and when I move a card, the computer makes a clicking noise. I have the sound off and all but it makes a clicking noise. So I'm thinking that she must be getting irritated with my sounds and that's just nutty. I was getting mad at her because I thought she was irritated by me. I'm losing it. I think it's got a lot to do with all the tests I have this week. The easy one I did today. I have the two hard ones tomorrow. She got a 98 on the chem test and I got a 76. I don't get it at all. I mean, she did have chemistry last year but I study and study and study and don't do that hot. I've never had to actually work hard for my grades. Last year, I could do practically nothing and get a B. Now I have to struggle for that B and I need As. It sucks.
It's actually not looking horrible. My 76 in chem is a B and I'm working my tail off now to bring that up. My bio was an 82. I hope it's a B and staying a B -- but I'll have to work extra hard to bring that grade up. I am, though. This whole week I've been studying like a good little student. I swear. I've been model college student. But this weekend, man, I want to get so fucked up. I want to get shit-faced drunk and freak out and run around and have a really good time. I hope it works out.
I have a lot of tests this week. In some ways it keeps me from getting sad but in others it makes me frustrated and that always brings me down. I'm not one of those excels under stress people. I fold under stress. I just give up. I hate getting frustrated. It's always the thing that makes me cry -- the straw that breaks my back or whatever. The one thing I can't control. But I'm doing alright so far. I'm worried that I'm only gaining one day per week to not be sad. That would mean it will take me six weeks to get over Joey. I don't want him occupying that much of my life! I'm determined not to need or want him. Or at least, not to need him. I don't need him. It's going to suck to not have love but I can deal with it. Eventually there will be somebody else and I'll get married. 38 is 20 years from now. That's a long time to find someone to love me and someone that I can love. It's longer than I've been alive now. To be worried about being alone for the rest of my life is silly at this point. I'm eighteen years old. I have a lot of living to do before I'm going to settle down anyway. Who needs Joey? He had lots of problems and we had problems together. Probably problems that we wouldn't have been able to work out and would have destroyed us both eventually. And he didn't destroy me. He didn't kill me or anything. He just beat the fuck out of me and now my bruises and shit are healing or at least...they're yellowing up.
I've turned on AIM now because Phil said I should. My Dad can see me whenever I turn on my computer. It's kind of a bad thing...maybe. He'll stop chatting eventually.
I'm trying to think of myself as asexual until the 2nd of next month. Instead of looking at guys and judging them on how much I could do them or be with them or whatever -- I'm trying to look at everybody the same. Guys, girls...possible friends or enemies or whatever but all the same. I don't want to think about guys in any context other than friendship or work partners for the rest of the month. I've already had one guy destroy me this month. I don't want to go for seconds. Of course, I'll end up having the same problem that I did on my 16th birthday.
My mother forbid me to date until my 16th birthday. So, though I didn't get any offers, I figured: I'll be sixteen. I can date. I will date. And no one asked me out. Ever. I mean, ever. I have never been on a real date (well, I went out with Joey but by the time we were going out, we were going out.) So it's with this I can date or whatever or look at guys the way I always have on the 2nd. It's not like I'm going to have to fend off offers until then. But if someone does ask, I'll tell them I'd love to go out with them on the 2nd. And freak out until then. But the change is in me, see? I make the decisions. All this subconscious shit is that: shit. I make the decisions. Sadness is bullshit. If I want to be sad, I'm sad and if I want to be happy, I'm happy. It's not about forcing things that aren't true, it's making things true that weren't before. I love being in control of my freaking emotions.
Joey: if you happened to get here by chance or not, don't read the following -- it's mean and I'm mad but I believe it.
Somebody talked to me today. It struck me as odd at the moment but now it's really cool. So there are people reading my stuff. Maybe not on a regular basis or anything but they're here. That's cool. So, for the newest info: I'm dealing with this new wave of my breakup very well, I think. Of course, Sunday night, I called up Joey crying and sad and horrible and, admittedly, hoping still that he would want to get back together. Of course he doesn't. Duh. But it's getting really easy to be more and more angry with him. Hopefully soon I won't be in love with him anymore. It's actually really easy to be mad at him temporarily. There are so many things about him and about our relationship that irritate me (I feel the most passionately about our breakup, but it's all good.) I could list them all, and it would take a long time but here's a couple big ones: He broke up with me over the phone. What a bastard! I did "make" him tell me what was wrong, but he shouldn't have said anything until he showed up nomatter what. Fuck his being uncomfortable. He owed it to me not to dump me over the phone. And, he didn't pay me enough attention. Everybody else I know that has a long-distance boyfriend talks to him a lot. I mean, a lot. My roommate is on the phone with her boyfriend all the time. Bleh. Stupid him. And, ...he had a huge problem with substance use. He told me I couldn't drink at all if I wanted to be with him (which wasn't a big deal to me at the time but it's like...restricting my freedom and shit. What is that?) And, he had a big thing with the sex-stuff. He didn't want me to masturbate. How many freaking guys out there wouldn't kill to see their girlfriend whack off? He was like (say this all whiny) "no, it takes away from the feeling" and shit like that. And, furthermore, I really want to hurt him. I guess being mad at him does that. I want to make him suffer the way he made me suffer. So I do write all this bad shit about him and though it would be really really hard for him to find this and he would have to be looking...wait, no he wouldn't. I just put this on my aol thing. If he looks at my profile he'll see this. Ha! I hope he does. I don't even want to be his friend. Being his "friend" really hurt and I don't want that shit. We weren't friends before.
AND AND AND I could never answer the question "Why do you love him?" It was always satisfactory to me that I loved him because I just did. And because he loved me. But I had no reason. I couldn't tell you what it was about him, exactly that I liked. He doesn't have a very good sense of humor; he doesn't like to go out; his friends are well-known but boring...what did I ever see in him? I don't know. Maybe I fell in love with him because I wanted to fall in love with somebody. I didn't care who. Maybe I was too good for him. Maybe a lot of things. Would I take him back right now? Yes. If he was planning on taking me back and read all this, would he still ask? Fuck no. He would cry. (I'm being so mean and I just don't care. It's insane not caring how much his feelings get hurt but ...he hurt me. He changed being away from me so that he didn't want me anymore and now I've changed after his hurting me. Am I a better person? Hell no. But I'm stronger. And I'll be 1/2 as likely to let this happen to me again. At least for a while.) Okay, I really don't hate him all the way. I'm leaving a note to him about not reading this if he does happen to stumble on. In any case, I'll find somebody really cool to spend the rest of my life with and actually be happy, instead of the fate that was assigned Joey and I if we stayed together. I need someone beautiful and fun. I could be so much meaner (if that's a word). I can think of a thousand mean things to say and believe them all. But I'll leave it for now. I can write those things in my paper journal.
PS--What is a good place to go dancing in New Orleans? It has to be walkable off the streetcar or easily accessible by bus/taxi from Tulane. By the way, this is always super-cool.
I rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I create my own destiny. I am my best friend. I am my own lover. It's me against the world again. I didn't use to need anyone and I don't need anyone now. "One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright" (White Oleander). I believe it. I may be hardened to the world. I may learn to hate Joey. It's a lot easier than still being in love with him. Down with love! Fuck all those people that are happy. I can feel myself becoming a shell of Amber. I'm not the phoenix, I'm the broom that sweeps me up. But I'm trying a new philosophy (for me). With everything I do, I'm going to ask myself "What's in it for me?" Fuck everyone else. I'm working on making my life less like shit. Do I want fried potatoes or cereal for breakfast? I don't know. What's in it for me? If you eat fried potatoes, your ass will get big and no one will fuck you. But the potatoes taste good. Fuck you. Eat the cereal. And so on. Other people? I use them to get what I want. Everybody does it but now I'm admitting it. I may even do community service. Helping poor bastards would make me feel a lot better. Look what I've become, Joey. You did this to me.
::sigh:: So lonely. One good night, one happy night lasts for me until I get back to my dorm and no longer. I really want not to be unhappy anymore, to not want to cry all the time. And I still want Joey back. I want him back so badly. I'm incredibly lonely. I used to have someone to talk to every day. Now I have only my roommate really. I can't really talk to her all the time. She still doesn't know me. No one here knows me.
But here's a list of things I like and enjoy here:
1. Ice cream at Bruff.
2. When I slide into bed at night after having watched TV. My bed faces away from the television, so when I go to sleep, I'm turned around and when I slide my feet in, it's warm.
3. Walking.
4. The trees.
5. Getting buzzed. (Okay, I don't feel like listing things anymore. Let's talk about alcohol. I know I shouldn't be drinking. I previously thought I would be one of those sad drunks that goes around and cries on everyone but I drank last night and it made me happy. I was happier last night than I have been this entire week. Yesterday was my one-week anniversary of Joey breaking up with me. I miss him so much. But it scares me that now I just want to go out and get my drink on. I want to escape this life right now. I've been seriously, no-holds-barred thinking about killing myself. This is probably the wrong place to talk about it but better say it and think people will hear than say it to someone's face. I've determined that doing it here, in the dorm, isn't fair to my roommate. If I was going to kill myself, I'd have to wait until Thanksgiving and then I could do it at my parents' house, which, of course, is mean to them, but it's better than the people here that, again, don't know me, dealing with it. I was in Rite-Aid today and I considered buying sleeping pills. I think that's how I would do it. There's no bathtubs here to do the old slitting the wrist thing. If I get to the point where I can't take it anymore, I would also consider jumping out the window. I weigh a fair amount and if I hit the sidewalk, I think I would die. That's the thing, though. I would definitely want to die. I couldn't deal with bleeding almost to death and then coming back. If I decide I want to leave, I want to leave. I would take pills, one by one, slowly, like you're supposed to and just go to sleep and not wake up. It would be so nice and I wouldn't have to feel any more pain. If things don't get better here soon, I'm afraid I'm going to do it. But I'll hold out until Thanksgiving. If things aren't better in a month and a half...well, I hope things will be better in a month and a half. I miss Joey so much it kills me. I wish he would ask me to let me love him again. I miss loving someone so much. There's no more pet names, you know? Only Joey and Amber. It sucks.)
This is something that isn't supposed to matter to me. I'm not supposed to care whether or not people want to hang out with me... It was like this in high school, too. How much rejection can I take in one day? Obviously, more than this. I'm disappointed but I'll deal. It's not such a strange thing. I think being used to it makes it easier. Does it? Maybe. And I missed Joey a whole lot today. I would have written about it here, but it hurts too much and I look like a moron. I am a moron about this situation.
I feel better now after having talked to him. I'm curious about a great many things I'm feeling right now. I've always known myself so well. Okay:
1. Have I subconsciously erased the fact that we're broken up and am thinking of him as my boyfriend again whom I never get to see?
2. Do I need to talk to him, much in the same way baby rats need their mother or else they start shivering and their brain starts to deteriorate?
3. Do I feel better because I know that this last week hasn't been a party for him either?
4. How can I feel better when he tells me that he doesn't want to be a writer after all, but instead, teach fifth grade, which is exactly what I told him he should do? Sub-question: why does he need to be at Monterey to do the teacher thing? He told me the main reason he wanted to stay there was to be in their writing program. Duh-duh.
5. Why am I not more pissed about #4's subquestion?
6. When will the food at Bruff ever improve?
7. Why is it so damn cold in my dorm room?
8. Why in the FUCK does it make me feel so much better to get a scrap of attention from Yoni?
9. How in the shit is this New Orleans and there's nothing to do but go to stupid frat parties? Bleh.
10. That's it. Sure, there's more but ...I'm done.
I'm starting to get worried about myself. This freedom I was thinking I felt from him...maybe it's not that at all. I'm starting to think that in my mind I have kind of skipped the whole thing. I feel almost exactly as I did before we broke up -- I miss him terribly and I just want to be with him again. And I tell myself so many times that that is the wrong way to think. I say it to myself just like that but I can't help it. I think about the way things were before I came here all the time. The plus is, I still have a good attitude about this place and I still feel more connected to the school and the people. But it still hurts. I think I might also have cut short my hurting time, and completely dismissed my need for healing time. I'm still very hurt.
The thing is -- for the most part, I'm alright but then I keep having these dreams. These wonderful dreams where we're back together (yesterday) or he's calling me up to tell me that he can't stand not being with me and he wants to get back together (this morning). That one was really good. In the one where we were together, we were kissing and lying together on a couch and he started crying. "You don't want to get back together, do you?" I asked him. He said no. But I still felt that love I always felt from being around him or with him and now I'll never feel that again. The one this morning was different, though. It was so real, too -- none of that bizarre dream crap. He rang, I answered. He told me he couldn't stand not being with me. "So what are you saying?" I asked him. He said he wanted to get back together. And I told him of course I wanted to be with him. He told me he still wanted to stay at Monterey and I told him that was fine -- that we'd work things out later. That everything was going to be okay and that our love was what was going to keep us through this whole thing.
But none of those things are true. I can prevent myself from thinking about it during the day but at night, my brain gets free reign. Damnit. Of course, we had problems. We had lots of problems -- most of them small but we had a big one or two. But none of it seemed to matter when we were together because everytime we'd hug, I'd know that this was the best feeling in the world and I'd work through anything to keep that. I miss being loved so much. And I miss loving, too. I have all this love now and no outlet. I don't think he feels this way or else he wouldn't have let me go. It doesn't work out that way when both people need and love each other so much. I say I can deal with it but I don't think I can. I think I might still be in denial -- somewhere inside... But I keep on truckin'. When the one thing I want to do is forget all this schoolwork crap and just lay around and watch TV and sleep, I keep going because I have to have something that's all-important to me. Joey was and now I'm back to school. But why do I wait so anxiously for him to answer an email or call? That's why I'm afraid for myself. I hope this doesn't come crashing down on me again.
I am back. Wow, what a difference a day makes. Cliche, cliche, cliche, but it's true. I couldn't write about it before. It hurt too much. I definitely could write about it now. I didn't cry yesterday, the day before. I didn't cry today. I can't possibly be this much over him already but I think I am. We had the strangest relationship. It was like a condensed marriage. We fell in love (week one), we got married (week two -- senior ball) and then we were together (six months) and then we got divorced. So if it only takes me one day to get over it, that makes a lot of sense. By comparison, we were married for like six or twelve years. That's a long time. Twelve years is longer than the average marriages makes it. Maybe we're both dogs. Or maybe he's a dog and I'm a cat. I don't know. It doesn't matter. (Ahh). What matters is that we're going to be friends or at least it seems that way now. I'm worried about losing him as a friend too, though. Not as much as I was about losing him as a lover, as my life mate -- but then again, I had every reason to worry about that. Read my thing about trust a couple of entries down -- as soon as I was able to develop that trust, I had it broken. Oh well. Such is life. But then again, he gave me reason not to trust him. He begged me not to hate him. I don't hate him. I find it hard not to hate his friends at Monterey, which made him like his school enough to leave me. Oh well. Oh well. Oh well. It matters but I have to get over it.
So, I'd offer up this advice to anyone in their senior year of high school that is sure about their relationship: either stay together or don't plan on staying together. I think, if we had moved in together right away, or if I had stayed and he had stayed, this wouldn't have happened. I think we probably would have been together a lot longer, possibly indefinitely, but this separation means that we can't change together. He changed (and much for the better) and it hurts me but I'm also very happy for him -- he finally believes all the things I tried to tell him. And maybe I do, too. I don't worry about being fat or ugly so much as I used to. Though now I don't have anybody to remind me that I'm not, it carries over, or ...at least it will for a while. If we stayed friends, the only thing I'd lose from him is that incredible feeling of being in his arms. There's nothing better in the world. I just hope I can have it again -- and eventually in someone who is going to keep their promises. It will happen. Aren't the majority of people with someone the majority of their lives? My dad found someone new. My mom found someone new. And even if it's not the perfect person, there is no such thing as perfect and to have that feeling of love again, I'd put up with a lot. I already have. Joey's far from perfect. I'm far from perfect. But that feeling is. And I'm sure it's duplicatable. If not, I'll miss it. I don't even know if he ever had that. If not, then I totally understand him leaving me. That's my main reason for staying with him. I still don't see our reason for breaking up, though.
However, I've had a bad attitude this last month. I haven't been excited at anything. I haven't been friendly. I've been boring and sad and mopey. I'm sick to fuck of being mopey and I'm going to have a blast from now on. BLAST, dammnit!! I want to go dancing.
I'm closing this for the time being. Joey and I broke up and as cool as I will be in a few weeks, a few months, a year...(I don't know), I can't look at all these posts with all these great things about Joey and missing him so much and loving him so much. Of course, I do miss him terribly (still) and love him as much as I did two days ago, but I don't want to think about it anymore than I have. But maybe I will write. Maybe keeping a journal will be good for me. But for right now, for this minute, I want to close this and not look at it again for a long time. I could be back tomorrow. Who knows. Everything's up in the air right now. Things'll start falling eventually. Or maybe, everything's on the ground right now and it's up to me to pick up the pieces and get to work on something new. Yeah, I think that's a lot more like it. Peace out.
Does anyone understand enthalpy and want to explain it to me? I swear to god--the first chem class I decide to skip (with a valid reason--I'm sick!) and it's the first material that makes zero sense to me. So, I had some problems with other stuff (I despise moles) and I can't name compounds for shit but what the FUCK is enthalpy? I don't understand... And Joey's coming and I'm going to feel really bad if I have to go get help on one of the few days I get him for the next two MONTHS. But I'm so happy he's coming. I can't wait. Maybe he can explain it to me. He had chemistry. And I'm coming back at the semester, goddamnit! I don't want to be here. It's a $10,000 waste of my time. Doesn't being depressed kill brain cells or something?
So...I'm sick. Hurricane Lili came and went. It wasn't a big deal here. It rained a lot and it was windy but that was it. I've survived two hurricanes now. Check it out. Several earthquakes, hurricanes...now all I need is a typhoon and a tornado. Give me a monsoon and I'll deem myself indestructible. But, I am sick. I don't think it has anything to do with the hurricanes but just me. I've been worrying myself into illness. I feel better now, but only because I've dumped all my problems on Joey. There has to be a happy medium. In fact, that happy medium would come if I could possibly find someone to talk to here. ...I can kind of talk to Jessie but sometimes not. (Jessie is my roommate). Okay, I'm rambling. I hope everyone is enjoying theirselves and if anyone reads this from New Iberia, I'm sorry dudes. That sucks ass. The city avoids them hurricanes like a motherfucker, doesn't it?
I don't think I'm ever going to be happy. Not that there aren't things that put me in a good mood or make me feel good but I always ruin it with my brain. I expect things that don't happen--want people to read my mind, want people to understand me even if I'm saying I'm fine, want people to see through my protecting them. So I just shrug everything off. But is it really fair for me to get disappointed so often? No, I suppose not. But then again, I'm not really telling you anything, am I? That's because I write this with the intention that someday Joey will see it. And if I said bad things about him because I was in a sour mood, that would make him feel awful. Because in half an hour, I'll have forgetten this and 10 minutes ago I felt lovely. No, it's not fair to ask him to read my mind or anything, but isn't that what we want? Or is it just what I want: to be understood without explaining? It's not fair for me to expect that of him--and it's wrong of me to put my problems on him. And he loves me and everything's fine but sometimes I get hurt and he doesn't even know he's done anything. I wonder if I hurt him and he is silent about it? I hope not.
Who wants to see a beautiful picture of myself? Yes, I have a digital camera:
And here's another:
Okay, maybe they're not that beautiful, but they're kinda artsy, aren't they?
Okay. I know I should mention this to my roommate who's sitting behind me at her desk, but I can't stand this music for much longer. I normally chill in my room and study and stuff in the quiet. I can't read if there's music playing or at least, I can't read very quickly. But I'm not trying to read right now. I'm just dealing with this horrible station that I guess would be classified "top 40." I'm used to listening to rock stations, oldies, alternative... I can't take any more Michelle Branch. Fucking bitch. I've heard 3 Michelle Branch songs in the last hour. How can they play so much of the same girl? I guess I need to put on my own music before she turns on this shit-ass station. I mean...this is bad. Anyone live in the New Orleans area and know of a good station that would appease my semi-hatred of pop and her semi-love of it? I suppose that won't happen. ::shrug:: College sucks. Ha.
