who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?

Alright, so this past weekend was pretty cool. Tree was away in MA for training and I had planned on doing what I always do when he's gone - sulk, eat tofu hotdogs for more days in a row than is probably healthy, and sleep with the bedside lamp on and a knife under his pillow. I know you're all jealous of how much my life rocks.

But I'd agreed, like a month ago, to go to the Eagles home-opener (vs the Saints) with a few people from work and had already paid for the ticket, so there was Sunday. And then Tea convinced me to go to the Delaware Sängerbund Oktoberfest in northern Delaware with her sister and a friend on Saturday. Not much time for sulking.

So Saturday I drove out to their house and we took the Prius into trashy Delaware. The Boozen Puken Oktoberfest was actually pretty cool, and if I go again next year, I'm totally going to buy a dirndl to wear there. You know, even though I'm not even a little bit German.

We drank some German beer (Märzen), ate a giant pretzel (didn't wait in line for the mustard though), had some more beer (of course), ate an apple streusel (cause we're fat), watched some Bavarian folk dancing (so cool), was hit in the shoulder by a flying stuffed parrot (didn't see who threw it at me, but now it's sitting in my bedroom). Drove back in awkward silence as Tea's sister made out in my backseat with her, ah, friend?

Sunday I got up a little earlier, picked up Ariz at brigade headquarters and drove out to Philly. We met up with the CPT, her boyfriend (both rabid Eagles fans), and one of the battalion SGMs, who happens to be a huge Saints fan. And even though I really didn't care either way which team won, I had a great, great time. Ariz and the SGM are hilarious together, and the CPT was actually really cool (she was a little drunk - we all were). The Saints ended up stomping the Eagles and like 3/4 of the stadium cleared out with 10 minutes left of the game. There's some loyalty, right?

We stayed until the end, which made leaving the parking lot rather difficult, but Ariz is also from MA, so he watched for openings in traffic and helped direct my asshole moves through the wall of cars. Haha. Massholes.

So not the weekend I planned, but a good one nonetheless. Friends are good.

Oh also, Tree had flowers sent to our house today. Adore that man. <3

can't read my, can't read my

Some random things Wikipedia has recently helped me out with:

Amy Fisher - Andy Warhol - Buddy Jesus - bukkake - clove of garlic - cougar - deus ex machina - Dr. Jekyl - Eastern State Penitentiary - Edgar Allan Poe - feed - Fred Weasley - General Hospital - Graves' Disease - Harlem Globetrotters - harlequin - I Can't Believe It's Not Butter - Ione Skye - Jaws 3 - Juneteenth - Kristen Bell - Kurt Warner - lamaze - Lizzie Bordon - MC Hammer - monkey frog - New Kids on the Block - non-canon - Ohio - Oz - Power Rangers - price fixing - Queens of the Stone Age - quinoa - Rainn Wilson - Riesling - ShamWow! - spinal bifida - Tay-Sachs disease - tzatziki - underground - ulna - Veronica Mars - voyeur - WB - When Harry Met Sally- Yehe Nara - yuppie - Zodiac Killer

Thankfully Tree's MacBook saves all the form entries on Wikipedia, allowing me to be reminded of how embarrassing I am.

"check this hand, cause I'm marvelous"

- Lady GaGa "Poker Face" -

if you want to be a hero, well just follow me

Easter at the Blue House

April 12, 2009

Appetizers

--------------------

Stuffed Mushrooms

Something Else Cool

Main Course

--------------------

Slaughtered Pig = :(

General Tso's Tofu = :)

Sides

--------------------

Colcannon

Boring Mashed Potatoes For People Who Hate Colcannon

Green Bean Casserole

Roasted Sweet Potatoes

Acorn Squash

Something With Carrots

Irish Soda Bread

Dessert

--------------------

Janine's Famous Lady Finger Cake

Assorted Cookies / Brownies

Something Else Cool, With Chocolate

Beverages

--------------------

Apple Juice

Soy Milk

Diet Coke

Sam Adams Boston Lager

Magic Hat #9

Malibu Bay Breeze

Or, BYOB

- John Lennon "Working Class Hero" -

but I've made long term plans based on these mistakes

Status: mid-afternoon, just out of the shower

Alcohol units consumed: 1 2 3

Weather: snowing

So someone told me today that they have been too "grumpy" to be my friend (in response to me asking why they fell off the face of the planet for the, I dunno, umpteenth time). Yeah, seriously. If I hadn't been trying to slay this dragon of a problem for, like, years, I'd probably be hurt/surprised. Instead I'll just laugh about it here and openly mock this individual and all the reasons why he lets his life suck the way it does. Faced with a problem/challenge/whatever, you can (a) do something about it or (b) do nothing but stop whining. Kthanks.

I did send a sarcastic response to the email which I likely won't hear back to for some time. Fuckin bawwww.

In happier, more interesting news... the new episode of House is on tonight and I cannot fucking wait. I've been watching House reruns on USA to temper my appetite but they are a weak substitute. And I've pretty much given up on CSI now that Grissom left (and Sara, and Warrick), so all I have to look forward to on television is House and The Office.

Oh, and fuck: back to work tomorrow. Joy.

"you never knew

(well I never told you)

everything I know about breaking hearts

I learned from you, it's true"

- Taking Back Sunday "There's No 'I' In Team" -

have another drink and drive yourself home

Update Medley:

Jan 8 - met with two members of the MPAD to discuss and put to bed the horrorshow of their MRX. They were both very polite, professional, and willing to listen to my perspective of the exercise. They had a few questions for me, offered some explanation for some of the things that had happened (much of it turned out to be misunderstanding/miscommunication), and gave suggestions for MRXs in the future. 

It felt good to talk face to face, in a neutral setting (vs the AAR), and get everything out. I even got a cookie and a coke out of the deal. (Thanks again!) Hopefully we can all put this behind us and meet again in peace someday.

You can read my previous posts on the aforementioned MRX here and here.

Jan 10-11 - traveled back to Massachusetts for Nibbey's birthday and Tree's drill. Nibbey's party was a hilariously great time at Sakura Tokyo (the waitstaff now hates us) with a table full of crazy, amazing people. It was the definition of what I miss about being at home. :(

My unit also had drill that weekend and even though I don't have to attend them (as I'm on Title 10 orders), I went up there to see everyone and remember what Guard life is like. It actually went pretty well; I was part of a group of 5 who went to Camp Curtis Guild for driver's training / PMCS classes. Kinda boring but ok. It was just great to catch up with V and remind the unit what my face looks like, ya know?

One small rotten spot on the day:

When we first arrived in morning, we all spent a few minutes shooting the shit in the lobby area of the armory. Signal R (you may remember him?) walked over, surprised to see me, and shook my hand with the usual "Hey how ya been?" Then he turned to the SGM and said, "Why is she here?" (Mind you, I'm not more than 4 feet away.) He launched into this whole speech about Soldiers getting confused about their chain of command [I currently have two: one in NJ and one in MA] and "playing" the leadership. He told the SGM (I'm still standing. right. there.) that if a Soldier is on Title 10, he or she should just stay put and not mess things up.

The SGM (bless him) kind of rolled his eyes and told Signal R that this tour is not unlike a tour with counterdrug or anything else: you aren't expected to come back for drill, but you are encouraged. Signal R was all "Really?" and the SGM kept on having my back. It was the weirdest thing.

Since there was a(nother) massive storm predicted for Sunday, the SGM told everyone not to come in and to instead make up the day some other time. Safety first, right?

Before I left, I stood in his office and talked about my future. I explained to him how much I'd like to go back for the PAOC mission in Baghdad, and he questioned whether that really was the best thing for my career right now. After all, he reasoned, since First Army is willing to send me to schools that would otherwise be difficult to attend, why not ride it out another year and set myself up to fast track (in promotions)?

It was a great, great conversation. I thought a lot about it as I drove back to Tree's father's house, thought about it some more on the ride back to NJ, thought about it all the following week...

Jan 12-15 - MRX for another MPAD, this one from Texas I believe. We got off on the right foot by having the entire unit and all of the training staff present for the welcome brief, which we rewrote to head off any similar problems we'd had in the past.

They gave us some great suggestions/improvements in the AAR:

- Provide graphics/music for the units to use in their newsreel. (this unit didn't have any, so finishing up the newsreel was difficult for them)

- Provide actual news stories to accompany the scenarios. (good idea; I'm going to write some this week)

- Draft new scenarios. (any officer who has attended PAOQC has already seen our scenarios as First Army had to purchase them from DINFOS, but the LT and I are going to make up some new ones for the next MRX)

- Provide opportunities for radio training (the Rs don't get this at our MRX, mostly because it is difficult to replicate here without a studio... but I'll look into it at least)

I also made note of a few more things to include in the mission brief: What specific training/help do you need from us? Does all of your equipment work? Are there any programs you are unfamiliar with?

It just seems that the unit always has a problem with something but it is never brought to our attention until the AAR, when it's too late to do anything. You only know how to edit using Avid software but your unit laptops have Adobe Premier? We can help with that. Your laptop sucks (1 Beyond is TERRIBLE) and the USB ports don't work? We can get you another laptop. You can't export to tape? Well, obviously you won't be expected to do a DVIDS transmission.

The MRX mission is secondary to getting the unit prepared to deploy. If at any time there is an issue, especially a technical one that is out of the journalist's control, we can pause the exercise and work something out. But we can't help if we don't know we're needed. It's frustrating... I hate that feeling of Trainer vs. Unit. Even though this last MRX went much smoother than the last one, there were still things that came up in the AAR that should have been addressed way sooner. Why does this happen? 

One thing is for sure: working here is no good for my self esteem.  :/

And now, time for a (stiff) drink.

"as if it happening wasn't enough

I got to go and write a song

to remind myself how bad it sucked"

- Brand New "Seventy Times 7" -

to get my fair share of abuse

Last night, New Year's Eve, and instead of cheerfully enjoying the festivities in front of the fire, I'm alternating between the blogsphere and trying to get my husband to dance with me and/or refill my glass...

...because I'm charmingly swigging back this crappy Riesling from a DRINKING GLASS, and worse, WITH ICE. Classy. A stemmed glass? No thanks. I'd only end up knocking it over and wasting all that wine.

I did end up hoisting my ass up off the couch long enough to dance with myself (husband wasn't having any of it), attack one of the cats, and stumble, naked, into bed. I'd stayed up that late only to satisfy my morbid curiosity - will they put Dick Clark's corpse on tv again this year? I was rewarded.

Woke up this morning around 11 to an empty house. Vaguely remember Tree kissing me before he left for work, could have imagined it, I don't know.

Now it's after 2 and I think my stomach is settled enough for me to eat something. So far I've managed only a handful of Tootsie Rolls. I think there's some General Tso's Tofu left over from last night.

My life rocks.

"you can't always get what you want

but if you try sometimes, you just might find

you get what you need"

- The Rolling Stones "You Can't Always Get What You Want"-

but I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no

If I were one of those people who made New Year's resolutions, these are what they would be (now with pictures!):

1. Recycle more (read: recycle period)

2. Finally learn how to sew (and make a quilt out of our old t shirts)

3. Volunteer at the animal shelter near my house (how hard is it to walk a dog or play with some cats?)

4. Ease up on the alcohol (actually maybe I'll start this one next week...)

"...and the road goes on forever

and I've got one more silver dollar..."

- Allman Brothers "Midnight Rider" -

the girl got reasons; they all got reasons

The holiday... didn't end up being that bad, actually. A brief rundown of the festivities:

24. made the insanely horrible pre-holiday drive back to Massachusetts with the husbo. SEVEN HOURS LATER we arrived at his mother's house. There we all had a little informal dinner-thing (she thoughtfully made veggie lasagna especially for me) and exchanged presents. Afterward, we stopped for a short visit at my parents' house to do presents, then drove to Tree's dad's house and promptly fell asleep. Alcohol units consumed: two

25. had a really nice breakfast spread courtesy of Tree and his dad. Exchanged presents with his dad and brother, then went to my parents' house (again, and with Tree's dad) for food. My sister and her bf came to eat as well and we all had a (surprisingly) enjoyable time. Ate, hung out, stuffed ourselves full of my mom's infamous lady finger cake. Mmmm. Alcohol units consumed: four

26. recovered in the morning and spent a few hours with Coug midday. Then Tree and I drove to Worcester to meet up with Angel and her son - checked out their new (to me, as I'd never seen it) apartment and then onward to Boston for Blue Man Group. Greatest. Idea. Ever. So much fun!! It is how I imagine being on acid must be like. Love. After the show, we searched for the elusive Hard Rock Cafe and (finally) found the damn place. Bought a new pin. Got home after midnight. Awesome. Alcohol units consumed: three

27. the day of two birthdays: my sister and Tree. We'd all (Tree, me, my sister and her bf, my mom and dad, Tree's dad, his mom and her bf and his two kids, Tree's brother and his gf) decided to merge the events into one, so we met at 5:30 and ate locally. My parents and Tree's dad are swiftly becoming actual friends and not just people stuck with each other because of their kids, and I love that. Friends = kick ass. Alcohol units consumed: three

28. showered, packed, said good bye to everyone, left around noon. SEVEN HOURS LATER (again) we got back to New Jersey, and, you guessed it, promptly fell asleep. Alcohol units consumed: zero

In related news, I need to dry out...

"don't turn away, what are you looking at?

he was so happy on the day that he met her"

- Stone Temple Pilots "Sour Girl" -

I'm tired of holding on to all the things I leave behind

Ok, well I know it's been quite a while since I've posted a blog - call it laziness, lack of inspiration, shell shock: I'm home.

A short breakdown of my activities / whereabouts:

Week 1: tried to sleep, with little success. Woke up more than a few times thinking I'd heard the duck & cover alarm. Had a recurring dream (nightmare?) that I'd misplaced my weapon [read: I no longer carry a weapon] and woke up sweaty, with my heart pounding.

Week 2: flew down to Florida with Coug and stayed with her mom. Went to Busch Gardens (it rained), tried to go swimming (started raining), enjoyed the best orange soft serve ever (while watching the rain) and managed not to get even a little bit of color (tan cancelled on account of... rain).

Went to a martini bar with Coug, her cousin, and a friend and managed to make a complete and utter ASS of myself. That night really deserves its own blog post, but I'll summarize in the interest of time: got trashed, ended up puking (up everything I think I've ever eaten) in the bathroom while people came in and out, commenting on the smell ("Is someone puking in here?")... had to be CARRIED outside where I proceeded to puke into the bushes and try to lay down in the mulch. Was carried to the car, laid on Coug's lap and physically could not unclench my hands (weird!), was carried into Coug's mom's house, and fell asleep in my clothes on top of the covers. I prayed for death - it would have been less embarrassing.

Week 3: occupied the couch and sulked. Continued having the dream about the missing weapon.

Week 4 (last week): went back to work at Joint Force Headquarters, Massachusetts National Guard. My sole accomplishment for the week (I'm not joking):


Well, I didn't want him to run away from boredom! We're in this together, Camel.

Really, I hate being back here. Sometimes I think that it's really changed; a number of my friends are either gone or are on their way out; the leadership is all new now and the changes they implemented while I was deployed are mostly less than enjoyable. And the walls upstairs have been painted a bright, mental hospital white that creeps me out everytime I walk down the hall to my office.

But then other times, I look around and marvel at how everything is exactly the same. There's still the same drama, same gossip behind everyone's back, same building full of broken deployment-dodgers. Don't mean to come off as a snob, but it's rather interesting I think that the majority of personnel in the HEADQUARTERS element of the MA National Guard have NEVER DEPLOYED. Aren't we, like, fighting a war?

And that's actually a part of the changes I was talking about: a number of officers in the system were not retained at the last retention board, and rumors has it that lack of deployment time was at least a partial factor in the decision to retain/not retain. Can't say I really blame the leadership... although my boss was one of those not retained, and he's a really great guy... but then everyone has their own backstory, right? You could probably plead a case for just about any of them. So where do you draw the line? 20+ years in the Guard, 0 deployments, 0 battalions commanded... I don't know. It makes me kind of sick to think about it. Obviously I'm a long ways away, but I cannot imagine having the rug pulled out from under me like that. One day they type up a memo saying I'm all done, mandatory retirement, GTFO - and then what?

Strange when you realize that your life so revolves around a single thing that you really think you might just die without it. Stranger still when you consider that you hate a sizeable chunk of this thing (the chunk being JFHQ, in case you aren't following).

I need to get the fuck out of here. I never should have left Iraq.

"...she said I need you to hold me

I'm a little far from the shore...

and I'm afraid of sinking..."

- Santana feat. Steven Tyler "Just Feel Better" -

wishing to be the friction in your jeans

argh...

so a few psycho 15+ hour days at work and now they've told me: GO HOME. ha... it's only been open since friday and already the wareham shaw's is starting to feel like home. and i've befriended the necessary management so that my time there will be easy and worry free. gotta get in with the right people, right?

what the fuck dude. for a second i felt really cool being able to say that, but then i realized i was talking about SHAW'S supermarket. i'm so fucking lame it kills me.

but anyways.

got back from wareham and talked to my Nibbey and decided to ditch out on the whole car-pooling to drill idea (don't really care to see Regular Army Guy right now anyways... i've had more of his condescending, better-than-you attitude than i can take... which is considerably awkward, considering i live with the guy...) and go visit some old friends back home. it ought to be good for me. lately i've been feeling a little confused and disenchanted about a certain situation... sing along if you know the words... (sigh)

but yeah so i'm gonna get my ass in gear now before all the beer is gone. kidding. or am i??

maybe i'm just waiting for a reaction.....................??

fuck (sigh) yeah... whatever.

- Fall Out Boy "Sugar, We're Going Down" -

the weight of my decisions were impossible to hold... but they were never yours

there is something insanely sad about driving past your best friend's house and seeing the FOR SALE sign at the end of the driveway. damn, i'm gonna miss that pool... (sigh)

...

sometimes i wish there was a photographer that followed me around everywhere, taking pictures of moments that will mean much more long after they've happened. not like a lunatic paparazzi-like photographer, just someone who'd quietly follow me and take my picture without being seen. he'd have to be with me every second of the day, though, cause you never know when you're about to do something that will change your life forever. i want a record of those moments, i want to hold them in my hands and look at them and smile and hang them on the fridge. i want something concrete, something i can show people later, when i'm telling a story.

i'm obsessed with documenting things. you must know this by now... i'm still here, still posting, even thought this journal has gotten me into more than a little trouble. sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and just HAVE to write SOMETHING, lest i forget by morning... you never know, it could be the most important and relevant and profound thing i'm ever going to think!

or i'll be driving and i'll be spacing out, right, and then suddenly i'll have this idea, this crazy awesome idea, like how to start the first paragraph of that novel i keep meaning to write... and i'll try to just kick it around in my head until i can't stop and write it down... especially if i have to be somewhere, you know? i can't just pull over... and then usually by the time i get to where i'm going, the idea is gone, that first paragraph is still unwritten, still a big question mark.

but when i can, i write down everything. at work, right after i get out of the shower, before bed, while i'm watching The Daily Show... it makes me crazy cause the words are screaming to get out. sometimes when i'm not alone and i'm trying to be quiet, i can hear the thoughts clawing the inside of my skull. i'm not crazy. i just need to bleed these thoughts before they overwhelm me.

i'm going off on a tangent. what i really wanted to mull over is that photographer... wouldn't that be great? i could look at those pictures later and be able to remember EVERYTHING, cause i'd have that visual, and the rest would just fall into place. i'd have everything else, the smells, tastes, sounds... i'd have this beautiful memory, enhanced by the photos... and i'd never forget anything.

so if you could have a photographer follow you around, what photos would be on your fridge?

i've got a couple i want to hang on to. see if you can figure who all is in them.

and i told you i'd warn you: now i'm going to reflect:

it was after school and we had just broken up and i was sitting on the front steps, crying in the sunshine. i called him because he was my best friend then and there was no one else i wanted to see more than him. his older brother drove him to my house and dropped him off and he came to the steps to sit with me. i asked him if he was thirsty and without waiting for his answer, i went into the house and brought out two glasses of Sunny Delight. we sat there on the steps for a long while and he listened to me while i talked and cried. there was a lull in the conversation and he put his drink down and wrapped his arms around me. SNAP.

we were sitting outside on his porch playing scrabble. the movie had just ended and we were talking about what we thought it was about. he was wearing his Eddie Bower tee shirt, the same one he was wearing last summer when i decided i didn't hate him. it was nice outside and he was winning and i lit a cigarette, only the third or so i'd had all day. inside, before the movie ended, i'd put on this silly straw cowboy hat that was sitting on the end-table next to the futon. he smiled at me, out there playing scrabble, and told me the hat suited me. SNAP.

it was hot and muggy and we were standing out on the causeway, it was dark. we were talking about the moon and how pretty is was reflecting over the water, and he said i was like the moon. i thought he was being a little sappy. we looked some more and talked and leaned against the concrete where people always go fishing. we were looking at the sky, and i spotted a shooting star, and pointed, so that he would see it too. he came forward and hugged me and i rested my head on his chest and breathed in the night air and thought that there wasn't a single other place on this planet i would have rather been at that second. SNAP.

he was leaving the next morning and i'd had too much to drink, WAY too much. i was so sick... i've never been as sick as i was then. he found me in his bedroom while the party was going on in the other room, just me and Peace Pipe, sharing a bottle of vodka. he knew i was going to be sick and he picked me up, carried me like a child to the bathroom, where he sat me down next to the toilet. i didn't want to throw up but he was forcing me to drink some milk, i just wanted to lay down and sleep. he was so worried. i threw up a little and rested my head on the toilet seat, trying to calm my stomach. he sat on the floor next to me, his back against the bathroom door, his head in his hands, and he was crying. SNAP.

we had been out that night, at the mall i think, i don't remember, it doesn't matter. it was dark and i had to be back and anyway we were both tired. we were driving thought the gate and i gave him my ID, which he handed to the MP, the MP looked at them and handed them back and we were on post. and he was telling me that he'd never spent time alone with a girl whom he was only friends with. and we were alone, we'd been alone all evening, and i didn't catch what he was trying to say so i asked him, as he was handing me back my ID. our hands touched and he grasped my fingers and held on. i looked over from our hands to his eyes and understood. SNAP.

...

From: _______

to: Starfish1130

Cc:

Bcc:

Subject: Opposite of guilt

Date: Wed, 25 Feb 2004 9:10:40 PM Eastern Standard Time

I am glad that you blush. That makes me happy. It's not that I am walking on eggshells, it's more like carrying eggs. I know you will hate to hear this, but I think you are fragile. Not little girl fragile. Not weak fragile. Like puppy fragile. You like to play rough, but you still need lots of love and affection. And I want to give you that love and affection. That and kisses.

...

next time you see me, give me a hug.

- Taking Back Sunday "This Photograph Is Proof" -

sing me something soft, sad and delicate, or loud and out of key... sing me anything

argh.

here, print this one out:

wednesday: fucked up. a phone call at work that made no sense. lots of cigarettes.

thursday: fucked up? i think. i don't remember. probably nothing.

friday: MORE fucked up. a trip to woonsocket, pizza and soda on the bed... then a phone call and an admission... an apology. a drive in my car, the back porch, the bedroom, a fan in the window.

saturday: the movies? was it saturday? the days are all running in together. the movies (i think) and something else... ??

sunday: breakfast, then the grafton flea market. all the way to the rope swing in douglas, turned back, the apartment... a beard trimmer, the back porch. later, mini golf? but no. my car, another long drive and then nothing.

monday: supposed sickness in the morning, a quick stop in northbridge... burger king for lunch and home depot after work. drove and drove... the bank, home depot, the mall... thunderstorm warning and i didn't have to be alone.

tuesday: woke up late and hurried up 495... uxbridge then providence then dartmouth then new bedford then fall river then back. a clean car, barefoot football, darkness and the drive back. another phone call... the back porch, the bedroom, back again and back again... sleep...

now it's wednesday again.

"you would kill for this

just a little bit

just a little bit

you would, you would..."

- Straylight Run "Existentialism on Prom Night" -

so low the sky is all I see

to do:

(in no particular order)

1. see financial aid/business office to square away tuition balance

2. mail out forms requesting GI Bill

3. write check for insurance company, find correct address and envelope, mail out

4. finish take-home midterm for interpersonal relationship class

5. shoot roll of film for class

6. take a shower

7. eat something (maybe??)

8. refill perscription

9. deposit money in bank account

10. continue to search for apartments, make more calls if possible

11. get gas

12. call Nibbey

13. meet landlord and view apartment i found in webster

14. find health insurance provider(s) and request information

15. call unit and verify Nov. drill date

16. email Rico to inquire about account/payment

17. remove alcohol from trunk and store in a to-be-determined location

18. curl up into ball and die

- Metallica "Low Man's Lyric" -

like indecision to call you... and hear your voice of treason

ah yes, NOW i remember what a keyboard looks like.

(waves away dust cloud)

hope this thing still works...

so friday night SloB came back to massachusetts. he's stationed at Fort Drum in NY, but he lived here before he enlisted, and now that he's home from his year in afghanistan, he took leave and drove down here to see his family and friends.

let me interrupt to put out there that i HATE this man, and the only reason his worthless existence even enters my thoughts is because he's friends with Rico and BB for one, and two, he's married to one of my semi-friends from highschool, who is actually closer friends with K-Dawg. so i sort of have to accept the fact that he's alive.

so. friday night and i was at the apartment with Rico and BB and BB's latest weekend girlfriend, and SloB was supposed to be coming over later. i drank a few and fell asleep kind of early, maybe around midnight or so. i had to work saturday morning, so i didn't want to be too hung over / still trashed on my ride to work.

around 3 in the morning i am woken by loud obnoxious drunken yelling from the tv room. Rico sleeps through almost anything, so i punched him until he woke up and told him rather rudely to go see what the fuck was going on. so he got up, opened his door, and yelled down the hallway, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The Noisy Bitch, who was making all the ruckus, proceeded to yell back, "FUCK YOU, DUDE! IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT!" so then he yells back "FUCK YOU IT'S MY GODDAMN HOUSE! BE QUIET OR GET THE FUCK OUT!"

there was continued yelling back and forth between them after that until SloB intercepted. he stood in the doorway to the room we were in and tried to defuse the situation, promising to keep her quiet.

i found out from BB the next night that SloB's idea of keeping The Noisy Bitch quiet was by fucking her in BB's room. niiiiiice.

...

and by the way, i was contacted again two days ago by my Restricted Caller, previously mentioned a few entries ago. except she was posing to be someone else... the (instant message) conversation is as follows:

his sn: HEY

me: omg, hi

his sn: WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?

me: not much, you?

his sn: ___ IS PISSED AT ME

me: i coulda told you that after she fucking called me

his sn: i know

his sn: what do you think i should do?

me: about?

his sn: ___

[by this point i had realized that this was not the person they were claiming to be, due to typing style - all caps, then all lowercase - and the obvious lack of... i dunno... personal touch? this is not how you start off a conversation with someone you supposedly care about and haven't spoke to in two months without letting them know why.]

me: prove this is you

his sn: you go by elocin

me: more than that

his sn: like what?

his sn: look if you are going to give me a hard time also, i don't want to talk to you

me: i'm not

me: i just want to be sure you're you

his sn: just forget it

me: no

his sn: whatever

me: what diable2 character do i play with?

me: diablo2*

[long pause, no response]

me: nice try, whomever you are

[another pause, and then:]

his sn: how about the ring? prove anything...?

me: um, nope

me: look, i already told you i'd go away, i haven't called, haven't done anything. so there's no reason to harass me

me: and he ended up with the ring by accident, i sent an email with my address asking for it back, i don't know what else you want from me.

[pause]

his sn signed off at 4:39:00 PM.

the mean side of me thinks i should have played along a little, or maybe told her all the things he's told me and what he's said about her. and maybe i won't have to wear this scarlet fucking A on my chest alone, because damn fucking straight i'm not the only person in the *wrong* here. and i'm sick of carrying the repercussions of our actions by myself.

how's that for a "growling puppy"???

...

ha! my dad just asked me about the scratches on my car, the ones from backing into the plow...

- Blink 182 "I Miss You" -

pour me something tall and strong

another long-ass blue-collar day at shaw's... fuck, i am TIRED! stupid old people spending their social security checks on damn lottery tickets... if i ever get that pathetic, do me the favor and shoot me.

took a nice long lunch around 12:30... went outside, smoked a cigarette and stared out at the rain. such a dreary, ugly day... matches my mood. i wish it were nicer out 'cause my car could use a good cleaning, but there's no way i'm going out to vacuum it in the rain.

so yeah, today sucked so far, but at least i worked with Tk today. she doesn't mind when my breaks run a little long, and she's so easy to get along with. a lot of the people i work with are morons, but Tk is great. i'm so glad i work days now... don't have to deal with the high school punks in the evening and all their bullshit. yeah. i hate people.

(sigh)

i really need to get out of this mood. i'm feeling completely uninspired today... this is the most un-profound entry i've written so far. what do i do? i don't know what the *right* course of action would be, but i'll tell ya what i'm GOING to do anyways, *right* or wrong... GET DRUNK! mmm, liquid dinner, i can't wait. i need to just get trashed and forget about all this shit. SOOO much on my mind... (sigh) don't even feel like getting into it. nothing new, mostly, just old wounds festering and developing gangrene. nasty. maybe i'll fucking drink hydrogen peroxide tonight to cleanse myself.

someone, please... love me...!

- Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett "Five O'Clock Somewhere" -

it's fun to lose and to pretend

...dusting off the keyboard...

haven't written in so long because, frankly, i've been too angry to say much of anything to anyone, much less type on a fucking computer to a faceless audience. and sometimes i feel like i'm only typing to myself. like i'm on a fucking island or something.

anyways.

friday, in Rico's car, on the way to get alcohol for like the 4th time last week... in the middle of a huge fight already because i wasn't going to be drinking with him that night, and my cell rings. restricted. and i NEVER answer restricted calls. Nibbey is the only friend of mine whose number comes up that way, and she knows to dial *87 before calling me so her number shows up and i'll answer. so why did i think it would be a good idea to answer THIS call? maybe i wasn't thinking at all. maybe i just needed a break from the fight. but still, I NEVER ANSWER RESTRICTED CALLS. but i did anyways.

let me back up.

it was three days and NOTHING... and THEN this call. from a person i'd never seen nor spoken to. of course i lied my ass off, but my initial plan of action in the split second i had after the caller identified themself was to spill everything and leave VIP to clean up the mess. i was SOOOO angry that he could just hide like that... and HURT. i wanted to VOMIT, to puke up the angry mixture of emotions in my stomach. and i was in the car with RICO of all people, who was turning purple from trying not keep from screaming at me while i was on the phone (he was kind enough to wait until after i hung the phone up, and my tears didn't slow the fury any). deciding to cover for him as best i could, i tried to defuse the situation and appease my Restricted Caller by agreeing to disappear.

my brain was leaking as i hung up the phone. my shirt was sticky and red from the massive chest wound, and pure venom dripped off my tongue and down my chin. Rico's hatred fell on deaf ears. later in the evening i liquified the rest of my organs. woke up still drunk the next morning and went to work for 9.

and after the blood... STILL NOTHING.

- Nirvana "Smells Like Teen Spirit" -

because she only wants the wrong way

i somewhat made peace with myself today. and how did i do that? funny you should ask...

Rico's apartment building only provides parking for tenants, so everyone that came to the party last night had to park at the convenience store down the road, or at the church, which is right across the street. lazy me picked the church parking lot. so then this morning, standing on the porch smoking a butt, i happened to look over at my little car and saw what looked like a flyer on the windshield. let me remind you that today is sunday. curious, i finished my cigarette and walked over to see what it was.

it seems that the church people didn't like the fact that my car was parked in their parking lot while there were having service this find sunday morning. so some stupid bastard stuck a HUGE ASS florescent ORANGE sticker right in the MIDDLE of the windshield, bearing the words:

VIOLATION! This car is parked illegally and is therefore subject to fines and/or towing. Your license plate has been recorded.

ok. that's fine. except there are NO signs prohibiting parking in the GIGANTIC parking lot. i know because i checked. and this sticker took up a good portion of my windshield and could be seen from the street. i'm lucky my car didn't get fucking towed. and so are the church people, because then they would have a window or two to replace.

pissed off? just a little. and i wasn't in the most pleasant of moods to begin with. i didn't eat hardly anything yesterday and then drank on an empty stomach so i was feeling a little woozy, had a really shitty night altogether, woke up sore from sleeping on a hardwood floor, and had a vague recollection of a drunken telephone conversation with someone i was hurting. i'd been trying to figure out what to say to him and my head hurt. now i had to get a razor and scrape the fucking thing off so i could drive my car.

so i'm standing in the parking lot scraping away and everyone going into the church is looking at me (stupid me parked right near the door) and my head is throbbing and i feel like shit and i just want to scream, "WHY DON'T YOU TAKE A FUCKING PICTURE!" at the church people and put a fucking brick through one of their windows and then suddenly...

i didn't give a shit. because it could have been a lot worse. the sticker, while ugly and ANNOYING, was put there by the church people, not the police, and it was only a warning. there wasn't a parking citation on my windshield, and apparently there could have been. i guess. even with no signs. or a cop could have driven by and seen the sticker and had my car towed. but all i had to do was scrape the thing off and park somewhere else, that's all. it could have been a lot worse.

and that's my POINT. my whole LIFE could be a lot worse. what does complaining change? absolutely nothing. happiness is a CHOICE. and the only way to achieve happiness is to grab the bull by the balls and take it. i WANT to be happy. and if that means doing something that everyone else thinks is crazy then so be it. i am only one person, i cannot please everybody. but i've spent so long trying to do that i forgot about myself. i don't want to follow the rules anymore.

ok. chew on this: so i'm driving along this straightaway (metaphorically speaking) and at the end i see a stop sign. it's late, i can see there's no one else on the road with me, so i speed up. i'm almost to the stop sign, it's right in front of me. no one at the intersection.

what do i do? do i stop because it's the *right* thing to do? whose right? maybe it's my wrong. maybe i think that the stop sign should be a yield. maybe i don't believe in stop signs at all.

so i fucking run it.

(sigh) i have a feeling that i'm the only person who will understand that analogy. comparing running a stop sign to the direction my life is taking...? and if ONE fucking person makes note of the legality issue in both situations... I SO DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT!! i'm an adult, DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE!

...on a darker note...

drinking last night was horrible. i guess that's what happens... i was drinking way too quickly, one after another. there were ghosts in my bottle, and tears of a man shed over me. i drank and drank and then chased it all down with some tears of my own.

i hated myself... doing a lot of that lately... and still missing him...

- Sublime "Wrong Way" -

only when I'm drunk I sing a song like this

just 12 fluid ounces, 5.6% alcohol per volume... one drink and i'm different? not just that, but intolerable? how is that? and he's never even seen me drink. all he sees is the bad and forgets that not everyone takes it too far. there's no blue button for me.

(sigh) i don't even feel like writing anymore. sorry, my loyal fans, but you'll have to wait. maybe i'll feel better tomorrow. the fight we had was depressing because it shouldn't have happened, and i'm sorry, and now i'm drained. i hate to argue at all, but with him it was a million times worse. and through a telephone, no less.

i miss him.

...

my sister just made popcorn by using the POPCORN button on our microwave. and all of the kernels popped.

- Crazy Town "Only When I'm Drunk" -

that's the sound of a bottle when it's hollow

today's lesson: familiarity (is this a word?) isn't always a pleasant feeling.

they were talking about going to baltimore this weekend, our last weekend, and getting smashed together before we all leave. the whole conversation made me kind of sad. he asked me why alcohol must be present to make a significant occasion; i.e. leaving for basic training, new year's eve, valentine's day... it's funny how my "logical" line of thinking was to celebrate graduation with some liquor. but that was my life, that's how i did things. someone's birthday? the liquor store closes at 11. anniversary? let's get so trashed we don't remember anything we did. graduation? i'll call a buyer. boxing day? flag day? kwanzaa? friendship day? day of the week ending in y? bring on the booze.

maybe it's a good thing i'm not 21. less of a temptation, right?

ok now, let's be honest. being underage never stopped me before. and if i really wanted to drink this weekend, being underage wouldn't stop me now. (sigh) i am so annoying. being under 21 has nothing to do with anything. i'm just making excuses to cover the fact that i'm doing something i'm not completely comfortable with.

you know, my conversation with Rico last night was really tragic. we were talking about me going back to massachusetts (this was before i explained my *complete* plan) and he mentioned going and buying all the celebratory alcohol ahead of time. i told him i wasn't so sure about it and to not go ahead and do that, and he lectured me for about 20 minutes for not being interesting. he said that one of the things that had initially attracted him to me, and one of the things he loves about me is how "wild" i am. and how i am "willing to take risks." he basically said that if i cut drinking out of my life, i wouldn't be a good time anymore. i try to make a responsible decision and Rico tells me i won't be entertaining and that it's a bad idea.

he went on to say that i wasn't talking like myself, that it wasn't really me saying all that. (sigh) i'm too tired to rant about how much that proves he's an asshole... i think it's pretty much common knowledge now. wonder why it was always so easy for everyone else to see but it took me 2 1/2 years to begin to realize it.

so then i told him what i plan for graduation and the days following... and he told me he can't talk to me anymore, ever. he told me it would hurt more than he could deal with. we argued until 11, then i hung up on him and shut my phone off and went to bed. this morning there were 6 messages in my voicemail from him.

(shrugs) ...so now what? (blinks)

incidentally, my "comfort cocktail" (emode.com) is a southern sparkler, which consists of 1 1/2 oz of SoCo, 1 oz of grapefruit juice, 1 oz of pineapple juice, and some club soda.

ick.

there. i'm done. happy now, my VIP?

- Eminem "Drug Ballad" -