empty

A, on her blog, posted: "The other day, a friend of mine told me that they'd never been in love. They were in love with the idea of being in love, but they'd never really loved anyone. I can't imagine a life like that. I love so many people and so many people reciprocate that feeling that I can't imagine what life would be without it."

I've never been in love either. It's something I so desperately want to happen to me, that I'm afraid I'll not recognize it if it happens. I'm afraid of saying something is love because what if it's not? Nothing I've ever felt for anyone has really lived up to that whole "love" feeling. No flutters. No euphoria. No fast heartbeat. No realization. No "pop" moment when you just know. No nothing.

I've always kept this a bit of a secret (I don't like to talk about it because I'm increasingly depressed about it) but then it was nice to see that someone else has this same experience as me. I have no idea who A was talking about, but just knowing they are out there is nice.

I think the reason this depresses me so much, is in addition to me never loving anyone, no one has ever said those three magical words to me. No one has ever been in love with me. Outside of my immediate family that is. No guy, no lover, no boyfriend, no one I've ever even been in a relationship with, has felt that way for me.

Ugh. I hate this post.

beserk

Every once in a while I feel like I'm going to go Thelma & Louise type of crazy. Like, off the deep end in a way that is not typically accepted in society. As if going off the deep end was accepted.

Well anyway, I feel this way right now. I am frustrated with someone and the situation we are in. Or at least the situation I perceive us to be in. But I also feel as if I am continually satisfying this frustration. Feeding it. Keeping it going.

Why am I doing this?

I mean, if I'm frustrated with it, I should just let it go. Go with the fucking flow. Live life. Have babies and age into my octogenarian years so I can drink spiked lemonade all the time.

So why do I keep feeding the fire? I'm not normally like this which makes things EVEN MORE annoying, which in turn makes me feel like I'm going to Thelma & Louise myself somehow.

I've been trying to get out of the frustrating situation. Running. Swimming. Working. Signing up for a class at Otis and buying supplies to teach myself embroidery and getting my shit together to get a portfolio worked out, and going to the beach and the veggie garden and random trips back home and even more running. These things are supposed to take up time. But why do I keep finding myself with time to be frustrated. I'm running out of ideas of things to do to keep myself occupied.

squeeze

Right before I go to bed, if I have not been wearing socks around the apartment, I take a quick look at my feet. I have painted concrete floors, and, try as I might, and now matter how hard I scrub, I can not keep these floors clean. Argh!

So, if I have not been wearing socks, the soles of my feet accumulate dirt, hair, tucker-stuff, etc. I make a point to wash my feet before getting into bed so I don't drag all that crap in with me. Of course, Tucker will drag some stuff with him, but at least he stays on top of the covers.

Anyway. After I wash my feet off, I have found that I squeeze them, as if to wring them out. This is silly! Feet can not be wrung out!

But each time, I do it anyway. Maybe I'm trying to remind myself that it's been awhile since I have had a good foot massage.

pill

After 7 years and 3 months of taking the pill, I have decided to stop taking it. At least for now.

WOW, 7 years? I had no idea it had been that long.

My major decision point was that I was starting to get little brown patches on my face. Of course, it had to be on my face. And they were appearing on my upper lip! Of all the places - that's where they were. I had gone to the doctor a few months ago about it, and he said that it was the "mask of pregnancy" and said I was probably pregnant.

(Now, let me just say how much I can't stand doctor's. And this guy just about sealed the deal for me. I have never had a doctor I liked. Dentists yes. Doctors no. I am now convinced that every doctor out there is a complete ass-fuck. This guy especially.)

ANYway, when I told him I was assuredly NOT pregnant, he challenged me again, so I offered to (this is gross, but man, was I pissed) show him real-time evidence that I was not. He believed me then. So he prescribed me some skin bleaching creme. This has not done one bit of lightening.

So I finally did what I should have done then - instead of go to the doctor - I asked my mom. She immediately knew what I was talking about and said that I was lucky that the spots hadn't shown up sooner. She said that if I stopped the pill they should fade pretty quickly.

And that leaves me here today, three days with no pill in me, after 7 years and 3 months.

Guess I need to start taking my temperature every day. Luckily, I have my yearly already scheduled so she's going to get an earful from me about this - just asking so many questions, etc.

FUN TIMES.

sigh.

temporary

pain at the end of a race
a tan
hot coffee
a good hair day
thin mints
dusk
a tucker kiss
my interest in public relations
parties
concerts
a good shave
vacations
thrill of shopping
eating a slice of black forest cake
running shoes
no traffic
catching someone's eye
apartments
summer days during college
eyeshadow
the perfect swim stroke
flowers
anger
rainstorms
goat cheese
hot showers
cost of postage
george bush
goggles
3-month old babies
networking events
movies
hair dye
english muffins
strawberries
life

honesty

now, that's some honesty down there. ;)

feeling much more sane this morning, and I am enjoying my rice krispy treat for breakfast. yum.

today is raining. am going to try to run tonight...could be fun!