"And when I turned your station on, you were more familiar than that party was."
- Dar Williams, Are You Out There?
This weekend was reasonably full. I certainly saw a lot of different people. On Friday, I had a brief coffee with Cowboy. We talked about different things. For the first time, we talked about why things didn't work out between us, and it actually felt kind of nice. He surprised me by telling me that the idea of me doing Katimavik had plagued him from the day I mentioned it. Back then, my plan wasn't to do Katimavik until after graduation, which would have been two years away from when I told him about it. Additionally, he always seemed to forget things that I told him (for example, I told him Mother Mother was my favourite band on three separate occasions before he stopped telling me he'd never heard of them when I mentioned them), so I didn't even expect him to remember that conversation. It made me feel more than a little guilty for writing off his friendship a few weeks ago. I guess I was just in a bad mood that day. The only thing Cowboy did to annoy me on Friday was when he went with me to Wrecking Ball's work. I had said, "I'm going to go to [store] before I catch the bus to work", by which I meant "I am heading in this direction now, see you later." I shouldn't have assumed he would interpret it that way though, that was unfair of me. So I wasn't mad at him. However, I was quite embarrassed when he started talking to Wrecking Ball about being a "beer connoisseur". He's always been pretentious like that, but I felt as though Wrecking Ball must have spent the whole interaction thinking, "she dated this guy?" and judging me for it. I know that isn't really how it happened, but it sure felt like it at the time.
After work on Friday, I went to Cat's birthday party. I gave her two purple scarves, because she loves purple and scarves. She was very pleased with it. The main event was playing foosball. I played a few rounds, but I preferred watching because I don't think I'm very good. My favourite games were when I was against Cat's dad's roommate, because he had a habit of whipping the ball from his end straight into the other goal, and I was reasonably good at thwarting those shots. Towards the end of the night, I started feeling overwhelmed by how many people around me were strangers, so I went downstairs and joined a small jam session with percussion instruments. At first I just listened, but then I picked up a shaker made from a gourd that had shells tied to it. With one of these, one can produce different sounds by tapping, swishing, or shaking the shells in different ways. I gave each noise I discovered a different name, and then had fun for probably a half an hour keeping my rhythms by saying the noises in my head: "tikka-tikka-swish! tikka-tikka-swish!" or "tik tik-ah TAK, ah-tik tik-ah TAK". I went home with Wrecking Ball, and that night I had a long string of very happy dreams. I remember a decent amount of them, but they were all silly and sappy, so I'm not going to describe them. I will say that I woke up in quite a good mood.
That night, I went over to Jewel's. She has been living with her boyfriend, Synth for a few months. I am pleased to say I was there the night they met, at her birthday party in January. They seem very good together and I am glad. Jewel and I watched Flushed Away and then The Crazies (the remake) and then just talked until Synth came home, at which point we all just went to bed because we were tired. It had been months since we had a sleepover, but it didn't feel like it at all, which I thought was strange but nice. It's good that we can be apart for so long and still be comfortable like that. I think it bodes well for our friendship as we go down our different paths in life. I just wondered, right now, at what age people stop having sleepovers. None of the people in the books I read have sleepovers the way I do with Jewel and Love, but I can't imagine stopping any time soon. That's something to think about I guess.
On Sunday I went to a wedding shower for the cousin of mine that is getting married on New Year's. It was good to see a lot of my family members together like that, because I don't think there will be a Christmas party this year, so this was probably the last time I would see many of them before I go to Katimavik. A cousin of mine did Katimavik back in 2002 or 2003 (I asked her but I forgot which year already!) so everybody already knew what the program is and they were excited to hear about where I'll be going. I am hoping that this year I will get down to visit the family during Wreath Season. Since before I was born, my mom's family has made and sold wreaths in the fall for Christmas. When I was little, my cousins and I used to play around the adults as they worked. But when I was finally old enough to start making wreaths myself, my parents stopped taking us down during wreath season, because my brother had been born. First it was just because he was too young to be around all that commotion with no one specifically watching him, and then it was because of his autism: it's hard to travel at all with him. So these days my mom will drive down by herself for a weekend, but she always picks a weekend that doesn't work for me, for one reason or another. This year, I realised that there is nothing stopping me from just making my own way down. I could go down on a Tuesday and come back on Friday morning in time to work the weekend shifts that are harder to get off. The idea of this excites me and makes me nervous. When I think of Wreath Season, I think of my grandfather. He has been dead for six years now. Everybody else is used to it now, that he won't be there. But I'm going to walk into that garage for the first time since his death, and smell the pine needles and motor oil and that unexplainable smell that I think might just be cold dirt, and he won't be there smiling at me and offering me minty girl guide cookies. It will be tough.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Reflections 5
"How beautiful it is to love you all the time! How beautiful it is to know that you are mine!"
- Prozzak, How Beautiful
This is the entry I've kind of been dreading since I started this project. For one thing, Wrecking Ball is going to read this. And no matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise, I definitely do censor myself a little bit knowing that he will see what I say. Mostly, though, I haven't been looking forward to this entry because I can't look at our relationship with the same clarity with which I see the others. I think this is because I'm still in the relationship - and if that's the case, I hope I have trouble analyzing us for a while yet!
This last reflection (for now. Stay tuned for the next installment in a series of reflections: What My Dad Thinks About These Guys) actually needs to be different from the others because nothing is really in the past tense. If I want to describe my relationship with Wrecking Ball, I don't have any interesting "this is where things went wrong" type stories, because things just haven't gone wrong yet. To my knowledge, and in my belief, we are still very happy together. This is new for me - this is the longest time I have been in a happy relationship. Cowboy and I broke up after eight and a half months, and Wrecking Ball and I have already been together for nine and a half. Sin and I only dated for two months. And though Acadia and I were together for two and a half definite years, and another six months of strange gray-zone semi-monogamy, we were never happy for more than five or six months at a time before we would go through a rough patch that lasted several weeks. Being with Wrecking Ball is comfortable, but I still feel the same attraction for him that I did in the beginning. We still have conversations. In fact, I find myself wanting to spend more time with him these days, rather than less, though I suspect that comes partially from a desire to spend as much time as possible with him before I leave for Katimavik, which is another thing I'll be going on about more at a later date.
I have met Wrecking Ball's dad, his mom, his stepfather, both of his younger sisters, both older brothers, and one set of grandparents. I get along well with all of them. His grandparents remembered my name the second time they saw me (just recently, at Thanksgiving). I have had lengthy conversations with his mother about careers and motherhood, and his stepfather told me some personal stories about his past, including the one about how he met Wrecking Ball's mother, a story that WB himself apparently didn't know. My strongest relationship to anyone in his family is with the older of his two sisters, Cat. We have spent time together on a few occasions without Wrecking Ball, and that is something that I have never done with the family members of my significant others. Cat came to my sorority wine & cheese a few weeks ago, and she is coming to our pub crawl in a few more weeks. She spent the night at my house once in the summer, and when she invited me to her nineteenth birthday festivities this weekend (she has a few different events planned to accommodate the large number of people she wants to celebrate with), I RSVP'd yes without even asking Wrecking Ball which events he planned to attend. I consider Cat a real friend.
I can't decide what I think this says about my relationship with Wrecking Ball. It is certainly different than any other relationship I have had - but they're each different in their own way anyway, so that isn't a very good evaluation. Maybe I could say it is stronger, because I have a bond with Cat outside of my relationship with Wrecking Ball, and it looks like our friendship will be maintained, come what may between her brother and I. But that feels like a silly thing to assume. I think really (and sadly), I won't be able to see the links between these relationships until the main connection has been severed. So again, I hope I don't understand these things for a little while. Haha.
- Prozzak, How Beautiful
This is the entry I've kind of been dreading since I started this project. For one thing, Wrecking Ball is going to read this. And no matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise, I definitely do censor myself a little bit knowing that he will see what I say. Mostly, though, I haven't been looking forward to this entry because I can't look at our relationship with the same clarity with which I see the others. I think this is because I'm still in the relationship - and if that's the case, I hope I have trouble analyzing us for a while yet!
This last reflection (for now. Stay tuned for the next installment in a series of reflections: What My Dad Thinks About These Guys) actually needs to be different from the others because nothing is really in the past tense. If I want to describe my relationship with Wrecking Ball, I don't have any interesting "this is where things went wrong" type stories, because things just haven't gone wrong yet. To my knowledge, and in my belief, we are still very happy together. This is new for me - this is the longest time I have been in a happy relationship. Cowboy and I broke up after eight and a half months, and Wrecking Ball and I have already been together for nine and a half. Sin and I only dated for two months. And though Acadia and I were together for two and a half definite years, and another six months of strange gray-zone semi-monogamy, we were never happy for more than five or six months at a time before we would go through a rough patch that lasted several weeks. Being with Wrecking Ball is comfortable, but I still feel the same attraction for him that I did in the beginning. We still have conversations. In fact, I find myself wanting to spend more time with him these days, rather than less, though I suspect that comes partially from a desire to spend as much time as possible with him before I leave for Katimavik, which is another thing I'll be going on about more at a later date.
I have met Wrecking Ball's dad, his mom, his stepfather, both of his younger sisters, both older brothers, and one set of grandparents. I get along well with all of them. His grandparents remembered my name the second time they saw me (just recently, at Thanksgiving). I have had lengthy conversations with his mother about careers and motherhood, and his stepfather told me some personal stories about his past, including the one about how he met Wrecking Ball's mother, a story that WB himself apparently didn't know. My strongest relationship to anyone in his family is with the older of his two sisters, Cat. We have spent time together on a few occasions without Wrecking Ball, and that is something that I have never done with the family members of my significant others. Cat came to my sorority wine & cheese a few weeks ago, and she is coming to our pub crawl in a few more weeks. She spent the night at my house once in the summer, and when she invited me to her nineteenth birthday festivities this weekend (she has a few different events planned to accommodate the large number of people she wants to celebrate with), I RSVP'd yes without even asking Wrecking Ball which events he planned to attend. I consider Cat a real friend.
I can't decide what I think this says about my relationship with Wrecking Ball. It is certainly different than any other relationship I have had - but they're each different in their own way anyway, so that isn't a very good evaluation. Maybe I could say it is stronger, because I have a bond with Cat outside of my relationship with Wrecking Ball, and it looks like our friendship will be maintained, come what may between her brother and I. But that feels like a silly thing to assume. I think really (and sadly), I won't be able to see the links between these relationships until the main connection has been severed. So again, I hope I don't understand these things for a little while. Haha.
Reflections 4
"First we forgot where we planted those bulbs last year, and then we forgot that we planted at all. Then we forgot what plants are altogether, and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and the nights were long and cold and scary..."
- Dar Williams, February
I need to pause this little reflections project to say that "February" is one of my all-time favourite songs, and I feel somewhat sad that this line fits so perfectly into my story about Cowboy and his sister, because I really don't think he deserves such beautiful lyrics. I'm not mad at him any more. I'm really quite indifferent. But that's the issue. I was hoping to one day use this song for something with powerful meaning and significance. I suppose I can think a little harder about what Cowboy meant to me. After all, he did cause me to reevaluate what I thought it meant to be in love. That's a pretty big thing. And if things with Cowboy were even slightly different at any time last fall, I probably wouldn't be dating Wrecking Ball right now. So that's important too.
The most important thing to say while explaining my relationship with Cowboy is that he is five years older than me, and at the time that we got together he was really concerned with his future, particularly in a romantic sense. He said that he would be evaluating our relationship at three months, because he didn't want to spend more time than that, at this point in his life, with someone that held no long-term potential for him. By the two-year mark in our relationship, he said, he would have proposed - if it didn't happen before then, he would break things off. Remembering he had that timeline set up, and then applying it to where we would be in the present, is really throwing me off right now. In an alternate universe, I could be engaged right now. I'm not saying that I actually want to be engaged right now. But if we were still together, and he asked me - I know what my answer would have been.
Cowboy made me look at everything differently. It was when I was dating him that I determined my own priorities: education > babies > marriage (I wouldn't mind getting married before having babies. I do like to think that I'll marry the biological father of my children. But I want to have babies while I'm young, and I don't care at what age I get married, so I put babies first). I imagined a future with him, and I liked it. But it's hard to say, looking back, whether I really liked the image of him in my future, or whether I just liked the fact that it was OK for me to imagine our marriage, our home, and our kids. I could let my imagination take me as far into the future as I wanted, and tell him about it, because he was thinking about those things too. We had mock fights about baby names. He brought up the fact that he wanted to get married in a kilt as a throwback to his Scottish heritage (something I wasn't really OK with but I tried to cope with it). The very morning after we started dating, his sister was having morning sickness - awful, wretching, sobbing noises were coming from the bathroom when we woke up - and he said, "don't worry. If we get to the point that you're pregnant - it's not that bad. She's always been a loud puker." I think it's important to note that he didn't say "when you", he said "if we".
Now here I am again though, dating a guy whose younger sister is in the early stages of pregnancy. She was farther along than Sin's sister though. She was showing. And she was my age, not fifteen. When I met her, it made me think about my own future. She was pregnant, happy, and living with her boyfriend and her dog. She was exactly where I dreamed I could be, but couldn't let myself get there. And then she and her boyfriend moved out of the apartment they shared with Cowboy, and I literally never saw her again. This was at the beginning of my relationship with Cowboy. In the early days, I saw her a lot, and we talked about her pregnancy, and I naively imagined myself in the future with a baby on the way, imagined our kids as cousins that were as close as best friends. And then she was gone.
Cowboy and I were just like that. We were tight, and happy, and I was picturing our future together. And then suddenly it was November and I couldn't remember the last time we had had sex or even a conversation, I was lying in his bed trying to fall asleep alone while he played Xbox until 4 am, and I was staring blankly at my bedroom ceiling as he told me over the phone that we should see other people.
- Dar Williams, February
I need to pause this little reflections project to say that "February" is one of my all-time favourite songs, and I feel somewhat sad that this line fits so perfectly into my story about Cowboy and his sister, because I really don't think he deserves such beautiful lyrics. I'm not mad at him any more. I'm really quite indifferent. But that's the issue. I was hoping to one day use this song for something with powerful meaning and significance. I suppose I can think a little harder about what Cowboy meant to me. After all, he did cause me to reevaluate what I thought it meant to be in love. That's a pretty big thing. And if things with Cowboy were even slightly different at any time last fall, I probably wouldn't be dating Wrecking Ball right now. So that's important too.
The most important thing to say while explaining my relationship with Cowboy is that he is five years older than me, and at the time that we got together he was really concerned with his future, particularly in a romantic sense. He said that he would be evaluating our relationship at three months, because he didn't want to spend more time than that, at this point in his life, with someone that held no long-term potential for him. By the two-year mark in our relationship, he said, he would have proposed - if it didn't happen before then, he would break things off. Remembering he had that timeline set up, and then applying it to where we would be in the present, is really throwing me off right now. In an alternate universe, I could be engaged right now. I'm not saying that I actually want to be engaged right now. But if we were still together, and he asked me - I know what my answer would have been.
Cowboy made me look at everything differently. It was when I was dating him that I determined my own priorities: education > babies > marriage (I wouldn't mind getting married before having babies. I do like to think that I'll marry the biological father of my children. But I want to have babies while I'm young, and I don't care at what age I get married, so I put babies first). I imagined a future with him, and I liked it. But it's hard to say, looking back, whether I really liked the image of him in my future, or whether I just liked the fact that it was OK for me to imagine our marriage, our home, and our kids. I could let my imagination take me as far into the future as I wanted, and tell him about it, because he was thinking about those things too. We had mock fights about baby names. He brought up the fact that he wanted to get married in a kilt as a throwback to his Scottish heritage (something I wasn't really OK with but I tried to cope with it). The very morning after we started dating, his sister was having morning sickness - awful, wretching, sobbing noises were coming from the bathroom when we woke up - and he said, "don't worry. If we get to the point that you're pregnant - it's not that bad. She's always been a loud puker." I think it's important to note that he didn't say "when you", he said "if we".
Now here I am again though, dating a guy whose younger sister is in the early stages of pregnancy. She was farther along than Sin's sister though. She was showing. And she was my age, not fifteen. When I met her, it made me think about my own future. She was pregnant, happy, and living with her boyfriend and her dog. She was exactly where I dreamed I could be, but couldn't let myself get there. And then she and her boyfriend moved out of the apartment they shared with Cowboy, and I literally never saw her again. This was at the beginning of my relationship with Cowboy. In the early days, I saw her a lot, and we talked about her pregnancy, and I naively imagined myself in the future with a baby on the way, imagined our kids as cousins that were as close as best friends. And then she was gone.
Cowboy and I were just like that. We were tight, and happy, and I was picturing our future together. And then suddenly it was November and I couldn't remember the last time we had had sex or even a conversation, I was lying in his bed trying to fall asleep alone while he played Xbox until 4 am, and I was staring blankly at my bedroom ceiling as he told me over the phone that we should see other people.
Reflections 3
"A dream of togetherness, turned into a brighter mess."
- Au Revoir Simone, The Lucky One
Calling Sin an ex-boyfriend is like saying a substitute teacher is someone who once taught you. It is true, in a literal way, but the statement is something of an exaggeration. Yes, we went on a date or two. We may have even held hands. And one day, while lying together on his bed, I balled up all of my courage in one hand hand and asked him, "Sin? Are we... dating?" And he said yes. So that made him my boyfriend, right? I don't really know for sure. It doesn't hurt to think about how we ended. I am entirely indifferent to our relationship these days. Sometimes I even forget it happened. Does that make it less real? And then sometimes I forget how long it's been. I get on a city bus and sort of expect to see him there, looking at me through our reflections in the dark windows like we did on the night we met. I see his sister, and she's pushing her baby in a stroller, and I can't believe that she has it already, because when I met her she sat across from me in a slightly smoky, very masculine room, and she wasn't even showing yet - she may not even have known, at the time, that she was going to be a mother in less than a year, the poor fifteen-year old girl.
Yeah. I met his sister when she was fifteen, and pregnant. Sin told me she had been raped at a party, and that he blamed himself. Despite the way he didn't dump me, I am inclined to believe everything he ever told me. I remember the look on his face when he said it. He told me she had been staying with him, and that she had gone to the party without him knowing. I asked, "would you have let her go, if she had asked?" And he said that no, he would have told her to stay. I asked if she would have stayed home then, if he had told her to, and he said she wouldn't have listened to him. "So then it isn't your fault. She would have gone even if you did try to stop her. There was nothing you could do to protect her from this." I remember the look on his face then, too. He looked like a great weight had been lifted off him, because somehow I had stumbled upon just the right thing to say to convince him that he wasn't the worst older brother she could have. Certainly he was an awful influence. But this one thing, this wasn't his fault.
When I met Sin's sister, all I could think about was how I hoped I could be a good influence on her. I was the sober one in a room full of stoners. I was going to university. I didn't even have an eating disorder that month - and phrasing it that way, of course one can argue that I did, that I always did, that it wasn't about remission and relapse the way I try to think it is. But that's not important. I wanted to be a good influence for that girl, the way one of her friends said that I might be a good influence for Sin. But then one day I accepted a joint, and the image of me as his good girlfriend, and our relationship, imploded.
I also met his grandfather a few times. He was a professor of kinesiology, if I remember correctly, and I admired him a great deal based on the few occasions I saw him. Sin was spending all of his money on drugs - even growing some in an upstairs closet - and this upright man, instead of lecturing him endlessly on how he was ruining his life (because I was very high and mighty back then, and felt that everyone should see how Sin was on the wrong path and that somebody other than me should be pointing it out to him), he would drive to Sin's apartment and give him a lunch to bring to work, or take him out to coffee to talk about everything and nothing. I joined them on one of those coffee dates, once. The only thing I remember about that day is the fight that I had about it with Acadia. But I know I respected Sin's grandfather quite a bit.
Here is the important part though: I didn't know that man at all. I decided to respect him only because of his job title and the fact that he didn't disown his drug-addled grandson. But he could have been anyone, really. Maybe he failed students if he didn't like the look of them. Maybe he was an alcoholic wife-beater. Maybe he was a white supremacist or homophobic or a bank robber. And liking him before I took the time to know him is the same mistake I made with Sin. I wasn't positive he didn't still do cocaine. I didn't know if he would be faithful to me, to whatever we were. I didn't even know if he was clean. But I threw myself into that relationship more fully than I ever should have done, in the same way that I felt an almost familial attraction to his grandfather, a complete stranger with a nice smile.
- Au Revoir Simone, The Lucky One
Calling Sin an ex-boyfriend is like saying a substitute teacher is someone who once taught you. It is true, in a literal way, but the statement is something of an exaggeration. Yes, we went on a date or two. We may have even held hands. And one day, while lying together on his bed, I balled up all of my courage in one hand hand and asked him, "Sin? Are we... dating?" And he said yes. So that made him my boyfriend, right? I don't really know for sure. It doesn't hurt to think about how we ended. I am entirely indifferent to our relationship these days. Sometimes I even forget it happened. Does that make it less real? And then sometimes I forget how long it's been. I get on a city bus and sort of expect to see him there, looking at me through our reflections in the dark windows like we did on the night we met. I see his sister, and she's pushing her baby in a stroller, and I can't believe that she has it already, because when I met her she sat across from me in a slightly smoky, very masculine room, and she wasn't even showing yet - she may not even have known, at the time, that she was going to be a mother in less than a year, the poor fifteen-year old girl.
Yeah. I met his sister when she was fifteen, and pregnant. Sin told me she had been raped at a party, and that he blamed himself. Despite the way he didn't dump me, I am inclined to believe everything he ever told me. I remember the look on his face when he said it. He told me she had been staying with him, and that she had gone to the party without him knowing. I asked, "would you have let her go, if she had asked?" And he said that no, he would have told her to stay. I asked if she would have stayed home then, if he had told her to, and he said she wouldn't have listened to him. "So then it isn't your fault. She would have gone even if you did try to stop her. There was nothing you could do to protect her from this." I remember the look on his face then, too. He looked like a great weight had been lifted off him, because somehow I had stumbled upon just the right thing to say to convince him that he wasn't the worst older brother she could have. Certainly he was an awful influence. But this one thing, this wasn't his fault.
When I met Sin's sister, all I could think about was how I hoped I could be a good influence on her. I was the sober one in a room full of stoners. I was going to university. I didn't even have an eating disorder that month - and phrasing it that way, of course one can argue that I did, that I always did, that it wasn't about remission and relapse the way I try to think it is. But that's not important. I wanted to be a good influence for that girl, the way one of her friends said that I might be a good influence for Sin. But then one day I accepted a joint, and the image of me as his good girlfriend, and our relationship, imploded.
I also met his grandfather a few times. He was a professor of kinesiology, if I remember correctly, and I admired him a great deal based on the few occasions I saw him. Sin was spending all of his money on drugs - even growing some in an upstairs closet - and this upright man, instead of lecturing him endlessly on how he was ruining his life (because I was very high and mighty back then, and felt that everyone should see how Sin was on the wrong path and that somebody other than me should be pointing it out to him), he would drive to Sin's apartment and give him a lunch to bring to work, or take him out to coffee to talk about everything and nothing. I joined them on one of those coffee dates, once. The only thing I remember about that day is the fight that I had about it with Acadia. But I know I respected Sin's grandfather quite a bit.
Here is the important part though: I didn't know that man at all. I decided to respect him only because of his job title and the fact that he didn't disown his drug-addled grandson. But he could have been anyone, really. Maybe he failed students if he didn't like the look of them. Maybe he was an alcoholic wife-beater. Maybe he was a white supremacist or homophobic or a bank robber. And liking him before I took the time to know him is the same mistake I made with Sin. I wasn't positive he didn't still do cocaine. I didn't know if he would be faithful to me, to whatever we were. I didn't even know if he was clean. But I threw myself into that relationship more fully than I ever should have done, in the same way that I felt an almost familial attraction to his grandfather, a complete stranger with a nice smile.
Reflections 2
"Now we've all moved away and somehow became men, but I remember where it began."
- Marianas Trench, Acadia
Of course, Acadia is my "significant ex". He's the first guy that comes to mind when someone says "ex-boyfriend". He was the one to whom I lost my virginity, and the first (and I believe only) person to ever call me a whore and mean it. And when, earlier this week, I read "love the one you're with" by Emily Giffin (been loving her books lately), I related her Leo to my Acadia. He was the unhealthy relationship I couldn't give up, the poisonous friend I didn't want to turn my back on, and the only person I have ever hated more than I used to hate myself. The story of our relationship is tied inextricably to the story of my personal battle with some mental health issues. We were in a hate spiral from the beginning. We had more downs than ups. But I thought that sort of passion was what made us good. I thought for a long time that he was the greatest love of my life.
I met a lot of Acadia's family. I met: his mother; his father; his three older sisters, and the boyfriend of one of them; his younger brother; his older brother and his older brother's fiancee; and his aunt and uncle and their young son, his nephew, on his mother's side. All of them were nice enough to me, though only in the sense that they weren't rude. They acknowledged me if I worked up the courage to join their conversations (though I didn't often bother with that; they all like to talk a lot more than they liked to listen). But his mother - she loved me. It was a running joke that she preferred me to Acadia, actually. He joked that she wanted to adopt me, and she included me in her fantasies about winning the lottery. "If I win that thirty million tomorrow," she'd tell me as she drove me home, "I'll pay for any school you want to go to." She made me pajama pants for Christmas, hosted a family dinner in honor of my sixteenth birthday, and made sure that I was in half of Acadia's grad photos the August before he went into grade 12 (because of our age difference, this put me in just grade eleven at the time). She invited me to family functions that Acadia's siblings couldn't bring guests to - "it's family only!" - claiming that I was as good as one of them. She even brought me along when they visited their cabin on Prince Edward Island, and let me come over for a seven hour nap and some soup during the time one summer that I thought I had mono.
His mother was always incredibly kind to me. She treated me the way I imagined a mother would treat her daughter if they had a close relationship. And maybe I wanted her to replace my own mother in my life, and sometimes I think I wanted to stay with Acadia as much for his mother as for him. But since Acadia and I broke up, we haven't spoke to each other even once. And I can promise you, if you asked her, she'd lie about the relationship we'd had. Maybe she'd say she never liked me. Maybe she would tell you that she always knew Acadia could do better. Maybe she would even say she's very glad our relationship ended, and if only it had ended sooner.
When I look at the way Acadia and I were together, I see my relationship to his family as a parallel to his mood swings. His mother (his 'good side') clung to me, loved me, wanted me around. And everyone else (his stubborn 'nobody likes me' periods) couldn't care less if I was in the room or not. As for his mother now (his 'bad side'), she pretends I don't - or never did - exist.
- Marianas Trench, Acadia
Of course, Acadia is my "significant ex". He's the first guy that comes to mind when someone says "ex-boyfriend". He was the one to whom I lost my virginity, and the first (and I believe only) person to ever call me a whore and mean it. And when, earlier this week, I read "love the one you're with" by Emily Giffin (been loving her books lately), I related her Leo to my Acadia. He was the unhealthy relationship I couldn't give up, the poisonous friend I didn't want to turn my back on, and the only person I have ever hated more than I used to hate myself. The story of our relationship is tied inextricably to the story of my personal battle with some mental health issues. We were in a hate spiral from the beginning. We had more downs than ups. But I thought that sort of passion was what made us good. I thought for a long time that he was the greatest love of my life.
I met a lot of Acadia's family. I met: his mother; his father; his three older sisters, and the boyfriend of one of them; his younger brother; his older brother and his older brother's fiancee; and his aunt and uncle and their young son, his nephew, on his mother's side. All of them were nice enough to me, though only in the sense that they weren't rude. They acknowledged me if I worked up the courage to join their conversations (though I didn't often bother with that; they all like to talk a lot more than they liked to listen). But his mother - she loved me. It was a running joke that she preferred me to Acadia, actually. He joked that she wanted to adopt me, and she included me in her fantasies about winning the lottery. "If I win that thirty million tomorrow," she'd tell me as she drove me home, "I'll pay for any school you want to go to." She made me pajama pants for Christmas, hosted a family dinner in honor of my sixteenth birthday, and made sure that I was in half of Acadia's grad photos the August before he went into grade 12 (because of our age difference, this put me in just grade eleven at the time). She invited me to family functions that Acadia's siblings couldn't bring guests to - "it's family only!" - claiming that I was as good as one of them. She even brought me along when they visited their cabin on Prince Edward Island, and let me come over for a seven hour nap and some soup during the time one summer that I thought I had mono.
His mother was always incredibly kind to me. She treated me the way I imagined a mother would treat her daughter if they had a close relationship. And maybe I wanted her to replace my own mother in my life, and sometimes I think I wanted to stay with Acadia as much for his mother as for him. But since Acadia and I broke up, we haven't spoke to each other even once. And I can promise you, if you asked her, she'd lie about the relationship we'd had. Maybe she'd say she never liked me. Maybe she would tell you that she always knew Acadia could do better. Maybe she would even say she's very glad our relationship ended, and if only it had ended sooner.
When I look at the way Acadia and I were together, I see my relationship to his family as a parallel to his mood swings. His mother (his 'good side') clung to me, loved me, wanted me around. And everyone else (his stubborn 'nobody likes me' periods) couldn't care less if I was in the room or not. As for his mother now (his 'bad side'), she pretends I don't - or never did - exist.
Reflections 1
"You know how time flies, only yesterday was the time of our lives."
- Adele, Someone Like You
I just finished reading a book called Th1rteen R3asons. It is a narrative told by two characters: Hannah, a teenager who killed herself and left behind audiotapes explaining why, and Clay, a boy who was named on the tapes as one of her reasons. I highly recommend it as a book to read all in one sitting. I started it this morning and finished it about twenty minutes ago, and all the time I wasn't reading it (because I was getting my flu shot, walking in the rain, working, or talking to a former classmate on the bus) I really just wanted to drop everything and go back to it. I don't have any other thoughts about this book that I care to express here, but one sentence did remind me of a moment in the tenth grade that I remember very fondly, and so I think I'll post it here.
One day in Sciences Humaines (Social Studies, for those of you who took your classes in English), the teacher was giving us an overview of what we would be learning in our unit about Africa. A boy I'd known long but not well - Eevee's cousin, actually - was sitting a row or two behind me. He's the class clown-type. I don't know what snack he was eating, but he had brought it in a tupperware container. Midway through the class, and while the teacher was in the middle of a sentence, he knocked it off his desk. It bounced around and he tried to pick it up but he knocked it out of his own reach and then kicked it back closer to him, and made noise for about a full minute. I couldn't imagine being in his shoes right then. I could think of nothing more humiliating that could happen during a quiet class. I may have even started to blush thinking about how mortified I would be if that had been me. But evidently, he was unfazed. The teacher looked over, scowling, but tried to make a joke by saying, "it sounds like someone is playing the drums over there!" And he, without missing a beat, not even blushing, said "I'm just getting into the spirit of Africa!"
I remember that from time to time and still laugh out loud. Eevee was there, and I think Jewel was still in French Immersion at that point as well. I believe I was sitting beside her that day. But all I really remember was the look on the teacher's face, and laughing about the incident, which I later referred to in my journals as "X and the Spirit of Africa". It wasn't an important memory. But it was a good one. And because of things both internal and external, I really don't have a lot of good memories from the tenth grade.
That sounds like a good jumping off point for some reflections, but I actually had something very specific in mind to reflect on tonight. I have had four major relationships - well OK, I've had four relationships and each are kind of important for different reasons to me, though only one is really considered my Significant Ex, and that is by a far margin - and along with my relationship with the boy (or man, as the case may be. Some weren't [aren't?] mature enough for that word yet), I had a relationship with their family. I've been thinking a lot about each relationship and what my relationship to their family signified, then or now, I don't know. So this is a five part entry, because I really don't like writing one long post. This way, if I so choose, I can stop writing after one entry and do another tomorrow afternoon or Saturday or just whenever. And I know that the list will then be backwards - from entry 5 to entry 1 - but that makes it feel like a countdown, and that is something else that I like about doing separate posts for each entry. My only problem here will be finding a different song for each entry. Unless I choose a song for each person, instead...
- Adele, Someone Like You
I just finished reading a book called Th1rteen R3asons. It is a narrative told by two characters: Hannah, a teenager who killed herself and left behind audiotapes explaining why, and Clay, a boy who was named on the tapes as one of her reasons. I highly recommend it as a book to read all in one sitting. I started it this morning and finished it about twenty minutes ago, and all the time I wasn't reading it (because I was getting my flu shot, walking in the rain, working, or talking to a former classmate on the bus) I really just wanted to drop everything and go back to it. I don't have any other thoughts about this book that I care to express here, but one sentence did remind me of a moment in the tenth grade that I remember very fondly, and so I think I'll post it here.
One day in Sciences Humaines (Social Studies, for those of you who took your classes in English), the teacher was giving us an overview of what we would be learning in our unit about Africa. A boy I'd known long but not well - Eevee's cousin, actually - was sitting a row or two behind me. He's the class clown-type. I don't know what snack he was eating, but he had brought it in a tupperware container. Midway through the class, and while the teacher was in the middle of a sentence, he knocked it off his desk. It bounced around and he tried to pick it up but he knocked it out of his own reach and then kicked it back closer to him, and made noise for about a full minute. I couldn't imagine being in his shoes right then. I could think of nothing more humiliating that could happen during a quiet class. I may have even started to blush thinking about how mortified I would be if that had been me. But evidently, he was unfazed. The teacher looked over, scowling, but tried to make a joke by saying, "it sounds like someone is playing the drums over there!" And he, without missing a beat, not even blushing, said "I'm just getting into the spirit of Africa!"
I remember that from time to time and still laugh out loud. Eevee was there, and I think Jewel was still in French Immersion at that point as well. I believe I was sitting beside her that day. But all I really remember was the look on the teacher's face, and laughing about the incident, which I later referred to in my journals as "X and the Spirit of Africa". It wasn't an important memory. But it was a good one. And because of things both internal and external, I really don't have a lot of good memories from the tenth grade.
That sounds like a good jumping off point for some reflections, but I actually had something very specific in mind to reflect on tonight. I have had four major relationships - well OK, I've had four relationships and each are kind of important for different reasons to me, though only one is really considered my Significant Ex, and that is by a far margin - and along with my relationship with the boy (or man, as the case may be. Some weren't [aren't?] mature enough for that word yet), I had a relationship with their family. I've been thinking a lot about each relationship and what my relationship to their family signified, then or now, I don't know. So this is a five part entry, because I really don't like writing one long post. This way, if I so choose, I can stop writing after one entry and do another tomorrow afternoon or Saturday or just whenever. And I know that the list will then be backwards - from entry 5 to entry 1 - but that makes it feel like a countdown, and that is something else that I like about doing separate posts for each entry. My only problem here will be finding a different song for each entry. Unless I choose a song for each person, instead...
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Making Plans
"Good news will work its way to all them plans."
- Modest Mouse, Float On
- Modest Mouse, Float On
I just found a blog to follow, which is exciting. I regularly check Hyperbole and a Half but she has too many followers for me to do it officially (there is a 50,000 limit. Wow!) and she updates so infrequently that I usually forget to look at it. So it's going to be fun seeing new entries on a more regular basis (and who knows, maybe I'll start doing that too).
Tonight I am very excited because this weekend is Cat's birthday and I am sincerely confident that she will enjoy my present. I am usually very insecure about what I'm getting someone. I'm also very pleased with how I'm dressing it up when I give it to her. It's going to look very fancy; maybe I'll post a picture. I'm not posting a picture of it today because I'm not revealing what it is yet; I don't want to give Wrecking Ball any opportunity to tease me by saying he doesn't think she'll like it. That would ruin my day. Haha.
Tonight I made the official decision that I am going to plan Love's baby shower for her. Oh right, that hasn't hit the blog yet. Love is pregnant! She is due in May. This is very, very exciting news - except for the part where I don't get to support her properly throughout her pregnancy. It is partially out of guilt for that that I am throwing this party for her. Also, I thought it would be fun to make the invitations and plan the snacks, so I kind of had to be at least partially involved in the planning.
Closing out this entry is the reason I like the CvsH blog so much - it is about me.
Photo credit: cat versus human
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Oh, Sayuri
"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper."
- Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
This week, while waiting to receive some books I ordered in the mail, I reread my all-time favourite book, Memoirs of a Geisha. I'm going to pause and say that the quote above is not actually my favourite from the book, because my favourite is too much of a spoiler for me to comfortably use. I used this quote instead because it is a wonderful example of Golden's writing style. At least once per page, there is a simile or metaphor that, to me, doesn't obviously fit with what it is describing, yet somehow it does bring to mind such an accurate image of what is happening that I am always surprised to think about it, even now as I read the book for what must be the sixth or seventh time.
My copy of the book is the one with the movie cover, where it is just an image of a blue-eyed geisha's face. It's actually why I bought the novel in the first place: the cover image was so striking that I knew I was going to buy it before I had read even the name of it, and if I'm not mistaken I skipped reading the synopsis until I was in the car on the way home. I bought it on a Saturday night and had it finished before bed on Sunday because I couldn't put it down. This time, as I finished it, I noticed that at some point over the last few years the front cover became slightly bent in a line that is directly beneath one of the woman's eyes, and it creates such a shadow that it looks like she has just cried one tear. Normally I would be very upset that my book was damaged, but somehow it makes me love my copy even more.
Apart from the writing style, I like the ending of this one. Few books can make me cry on more than one reading, but at the very end, when Sayuri is told the true reason she was able to become a geisha, I am always moved to tears.
Now I want to watch the movie, but I have an early morning tomorrow and then tomorrow night is Beast's birthday party. Which reminds me: I meant to make him a card when I got home tonight but I didn't. Ug. And also the earliest I could watch it is Sunday, but that would have me up very late on Sunday night... I may do it anyway.
One thought for the day that isn't related to the best book I've ever read: I haven't been working as hard on my correspondence science courses as I should have been. I am very seriously considering the idea that if I could complete every assignment before the date of next month's Mother Mother concerts, I could reward myself by dropping the cash to see them in Halifax on that Sunday night. It is probably unrealistic to expect that I could do all that work in just one month, but if I seriously promise myself the concert as a reward, it may get me to at least work harder than I have been. At the rate I'm going, I won't be able to write my exams before I leave for Katimavik, which would mean that I couldn't apply to the nursing program I want to take until the summer when I get back, and by that time it would most certainly be full. Although my bank accounts would certainly benefit from the consequential year off, I can't imagine I would be very happy. Certainly, I could take a few language courses (French and Latin for sure, maybe Spanish or another romantic language too). And, in the spring of 2013, my local Gilbert & Sullivan Society will be performing Legally Blonde: The Musical. I just learned tonight that they announced the rehearsals will actually begin in fall of 2012 for the performance. So I would theoretically be occupied throughout the non-school year with that show. However! I have absolutely no wish to push my vague life-goals-timeline-thingy back by yet another year. I want to be a mom while I'm still quite young, but I utterly refuse to do it while my life on paper is still "high school graduate, working fast food."
tl;dr : I'm not doing my homework and I might see Mother Mother twice next month if I give up all sleep and free time to finish the work. If I keep working at my current slow pace, I will be constantly angry at myself for a minimum sentence of one year.
- Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
This week, while waiting to receive some books I ordered in the mail, I reread my all-time favourite book, Memoirs of a Geisha. I'm going to pause and say that the quote above is not actually my favourite from the book, because my favourite is too much of a spoiler for me to comfortably use. I used this quote instead because it is a wonderful example of Golden's writing style. At least once per page, there is a simile or metaphor that, to me, doesn't obviously fit with what it is describing, yet somehow it does bring to mind such an accurate image of what is happening that I am always surprised to think about it, even now as I read the book for what must be the sixth or seventh time.
My copy of the book is the one with the movie cover, where it is just an image of a blue-eyed geisha's face. It's actually why I bought the novel in the first place: the cover image was so striking that I knew I was going to buy it before I had read even the name of it, and if I'm not mistaken I skipped reading the synopsis until I was in the car on the way home. I bought it on a Saturday night and had it finished before bed on Sunday because I couldn't put it down. This time, as I finished it, I noticed that at some point over the last few years the front cover became slightly bent in a line that is directly beneath one of the woman's eyes, and it creates such a shadow that it looks like she has just cried one tear. Normally I would be very upset that my book was damaged, but somehow it makes me love my copy even more.
Apart from the writing style, I like the ending of this one. Few books can make me cry on more than one reading, but at the very end, when Sayuri is told the true reason she was able to become a geisha, I am always moved to tears.
Now I want to watch the movie, but I have an early morning tomorrow and then tomorrow night is Beast's birthday party. Which reminds me: I meant to make him a card when I got home tonight but I didn't. Ug. And also the earliest I could watch it is Sunday, but that would have me up very late on Sunday night... I may do it anyway.
One thought for the day that isn't related to the best book I've ever read: I haven't been working as hard on my correspondence science courses as I should have been. I am very seriously considering the idea that if I could complete every assignment before the date of next month's Mother Mother concerts, I could reward myself by dropping the cash to see them in Halifax on that Sunday night. It is probably unrealistic to expect that I could do all that work in just one month, but if I seriously promise myself the concert as a reward, it may get me to at least work harder than I have been. At the rate I'm going, I won't be able to write my exams before I leave for Katimavik, which would mean that I couldn't apply to the nursing program I want to take until the summer when I get back, and by that time it would most certainly be full. Although my bank accounts would certainly benefit from the consequential year off, I can't imagine I would be very happy. Certainly, I could take a few language courses (French and Latin for sure, maybe Spanish or another romantic language too). And, in the spring of 2013, my local Gilbert & Sullivan Society will be performing Legally Blonde: The Musical. I just learned tonight that they announced the rehearsals will actually begin in fall of 2012 for the performance. So I would theoretically be occupied throughout the non-school year with that show. However! I have absolutely no wish to push my vague life-goals-timeline-thingy back by yet another year. I want to be a mom while I'm still quite young, but I utterly refuse to do it while my life on paper is still "high school graduate, working fast food."
tl;dr : I'm not doing my homework and I might see Mother Mother twice next month if I give up all sleep and free time to finish the work. If I keep working at my current slow pace, I will be constantly angry at myself for a minimum sentence of one year.
Friday, October 14, 2011
81 Days Before
"I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive - now I only waste it dreaming of you."
- Fall Out Boy, Of All The Gin Joints In All The World
Well, my recent Katimavik dreams were not accurate at all. I am a member of group 22180 in the Second Language and Cultural Identity program, beginning my experience on January 4th in Saguenay, Quebec, and then on March 28 I will travel to Medicine Hat, Alberta, where I will stay until June 20.
I suppose I expected to have a lot to say about this which is why I opened a new entry instead of finding a way to tie this in to my last post. But I feel a little sick to my stomach (nothing compared to last night... I seem to have a 24 hour bug or something... I don't want to call "food poisoning" like my dad suggested because I didn't start feeling ill until after eating at Taco Bell and I don't believe for one minute that something I ate at work would make me sick) so I'm not going to say much about it yet because I just want to think.
Last night when I was feeling very sick, I told Wrecking Ball that maybe me being over wasn't such a good idea, especially since I already felt awful from having a very bad day. He hugged me and said, "I love you, feeling gross or having a bad day," and that is definitely on the list of Sweetest Things Anyone Has Ever Said To Me. We haven't spoke yet about how he feels about me going away for so long. Every time I bring it up I say "I'm worried about this" and "I'm nervous about that" but I haven't asked him yet what this is for him, and I didn't even realise it until I told Jewel about my placements and she asked, "was Wrecking Ball sad to hear that?" Now I feel rather selfish. Also, I'd like to think about Wrecking Ball more than I'd like to think about Katimavik right now. Linking those thoughts reminds me I need to change my phone plan. Koodo now offers unlimited Canada-wide long distance in all basic plans, so instead of my phone bill increasing it's actually going to drop (because I will keep my same price plan but I will need to get rid of my value pack).
- Fall Out Boy, Of All The Gin Joints In All The World
Well, my recent Katimavik dreams were not accurate at all. I am a member of group 22180 in the Second Language and Cultural Identity program, beginning my experience on January 4th in Saguenay, Quebec, and then on March 28 I will travel to Medicine Hat, Alberta, where I will stay until June 20.
I suppose I expected to have a lot to say about this which is why I opened a new entry instead of finding a way to tie this in to my last post. But I feel a little sick to my stomach (nothing compared to last night... I seem to have a 24 hour bug or something... I don't want to call "food poisoning" like my dad suggested because I didn't start feeling ill until after eating at Taco Bell and I don't believe for one minute that something I ate at work would make me sick) so I'm not going to say much about it yet because I just want to think.
Last night when I was feeling very sick, I told Wrecking Ball that maybe me being over wasn't such a good idea, especially since I already felt awful from having a very bad day. He hugged me and said, "I love you, feeling gross or having a bad day," and that is definitely on the list of Sweetest Things Anyone Has Ever Said To Me. We haven't spoke yet about how he feels about me going away for so long. Every time I bring it up I say "I'm worried about this" and "I'm nervous about that" but I haven't asked him yet what this is for him, and I didn't even realise it until I told Jewel about my placements and she asked, "was Wrecking Ball sad to hear that?" Now I feel rather selfish. Also, I'd like to think about Wrecking Ball more than I'd like to think about Katimavik right now. Linking those thoughts reminds me I need to change my phone plan. Koodo now offers unlimited Canada-wide long distance in all basic plans, so instead of my phone bill increasing it's actually going to drop (because I will keep my same price plan but I will need to get rid of my value pack).
11/21/11
"Oh Ana, I will be with you still. You are the angel that I couldn't kill!"
- Mother Mother, Oh Ana
Today I nicknamed my Visa account "Tightrope" because I seem to be having so much trouble keeping it balanced. I don't owe much money on it right now, but it will take me a lot to convince myself not to charge 200$ on it tomorrow night for a bus ticket and a hotel room so I can see Mother Mother in Halifax in November. Now, why should I refuse to spend 200$ to see my favourite band next month? ... Because they are also playing in Moncton the very next night, which will be significantly cheaper for me to go see, that's why. But man, how awesome would it be to see them two nights in a row? SO AWESOME, that's how.
In any case, I am definitely seeing Mother Mother next month. Aw yeah :)
- Mother Mother, Oh Ana
Today I nicknamed my Visa account "Tightrope" because I seem to be having so much trouble keeping it balanced. I don't owe much money on it right now, but it will take me a lot to convince myself not to charge 200$ on it tomorrow night for a bus ticket and a hotel room so I can see Mother Mother in Halifax in November. Now, why should I refuse to spend 200$ to see my favourite band next month? ... Because they are also playing in Moncton the very next night, which will be significantly cheaper for me to go see, that's why. But man, how awesome would it be to see them two nights in a row? SO AWESOME, that's how.
In any case, I am definitely seeing Mother Mother next month. Aw yeah :)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Just Plain Lovely
"I fell hard in your arms tonight; it was nice."
- Mother Mother, Arms Tonite
Last night I was doing nothing in my kitchen when Wrecking Ball and I decided that I should go over so we could watch some Battlestar Galactica and spend some time together. Some things led to other things and at one point we were watching this video and he was clicking 0:40 over and over and over and we were both giggling (I suspect he was laughing at me a little more than he was laughing with me but I don't really mind), and I looked at him and felt a rush of affection that reminded me of the day that I realised I love him. We didn't do anything particularly special last night - well, there was kind of one thing, but that's not my point - we didn't have any special plans or anything, it was just a normal night of hanging out, but I have a feeling it will stand out in my mind for a while because it was really very lovely.
I am definitely not doing an entry tomorrow, which is a shame. I am supposed to be able to find out my Katimavik placement (had another dream about it, this time the dream had me looking at a computer screen that said the first half would be in Montreal and the second half in a small town in British Columbia) but I am running some errands downtown, then working 12-close, then heading over to Eevee's to play some Dokapon Kingdom (great game!), then going home with Wrecking Ball because he will also be at Eevee's place, playing poker with his roommate. So any avid readers can look forward to an excited entry on Thursday, one which will probably flow terribly if at all because I will be pausing at the end of every sentence to research anything I can think of about my placements (population? sight seeing? map? potential places that I may volunteer? the blogs of any other Katimavictims who have stayed there? etc...).
I am trying to live a healthier life because I realized while biking to and from Love's last week that I am horribly out of shape (I stopped going to the gym back in July and have failed to start up again so far), which reminded me that I have a few other negative habits. So, in the interest of letting people bug me about my goals, I will list my two starter-goals here, and if anyone wants they can ask me how I'm doing on those.
1. Stop sleeping past noon. I know it is unhealthy to get too much sleep. I also know it is unhealthy to get too little sleep. The fact that this entry is hitting my blog at 3am is not lost on me. I said I'm trying, I didn't say I was doing well. Haha.
2. Drink at least two glasses of water every day. This one will be an interesting balance of easy and hard for me. I actually hate to drink water; I don't like the taste. On one hand, I am intentionally not making a minimum size for these glasses of water, so I could just drink one of our very small glasses full when I wake up and before I go to bed. But as far as actually consuming a decent amount of water, I have two things working in my favor: I am often thirsty at work, drinking an average of two 20 oz cups of [Dr Pepper/lemonade/whatever I'm in the mood for] per shift, and I work an average of five shifts a week. So if I could just drink water instead of one of those, I am halfway done my goal for the day and at the same time I actually drank a decent serving's worth.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Bleh
"Today I don't feel like doing anything, I just wanna lay in my bed."
- Bruno Mars, The Lazy Song
I don't actually have a vision for this post. I am listening to "I Do" by Colbie Caillat and my cat is curled up in my arm, purring, and sometimes licking my arm (!). I am wishing that I had made hot chocolate before I came up to bed and also trying to decide what I am going to do tomorrow so I can plan my day. I'm just trying to get back into the habit of writing in this blog more frequently.
Last night I went over to Love's place and we did some cross-stitching. I had never done it before, but I've been thinking lately about how I wanted to try it. I really enjoyed it! I'm not too too bad at it either. Heheh. I think I've figured out what I'm giving my mom for her birthday next month.
Tonight at work, Doll announced that Doe isn't working on Halloween, so I will be able to take her place and dress up as a sauce packet. I am very excited. I kind of want to look up patterns for such a costume right now, but I also know I should be going to sleep soon... OK, five minutes, that wasn't so bad. Found a pattern.
My cat is really snuggling in to sleep now. I guess I'll pack up and follow suit so I don't need to displace her when she's too comfy.
- Bruno Mars, The Lazy Song
I don't actually have a vision for this post. I am listening to "I Do" by Colbie Caillat and my cat is curled up in my arm, purring, and sometimes licking my arm (!). I am wishing that I had made hot chocolate before I came up to bed and also trying to decide what I am going to do tomorrow so I can plan my day. I'm just trying to get back into the habit of writing in this blog more frequently.
Last night I went over to Love's place and we did some cross-stitching. I had never done it before, but I've been thinking lately about how I wanted to try it. I really enjoyed it! I'm not too too bad at it either. Heheh. I think I've figured out what I'm giving my mom for her birthday next month.
Tonight at work, Doll announced that Doe isn't working on Halloween, so I will be able to take her place and dress up as a sauce packet. I am very excited. I kind of want to look up patterns for such a costume right now, but I also know I should be going to sleep soon... OK, five minutes, that wasn't so bad. Found a pattern.
My cat is really snuggling in to sleep now. I guess I'll pack up and follow suit so I don't need to displace her when she's too comfy.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Lighthousehunting
"Dots on a map, four, five, six, the two of us a perfect fit."
- A Fine Frenzy, You Picked Me
On Thursday night, I went over to Wrecking Ball's after work so that we could leave early Friday morning on the little trip we had planned. We drove as directly as possible from home to Truro, and then kept along the coast from there to Wolfville, stopping along the way to look at a tidal bore, an abandoned house, and a few lighthouses. We ate dinner that night at a place called The Port, which was fancy and had good food but was very noisy (this was kind of rough for conversation but it particularly bothered me because I wasn't feeling well and just wanted to be somewhere quiet). We checked in to the most lovely inn I've ever stayed in, and spent some time just lying on the bed talking. I loved it. I feel like I'm really bad at making conversation, but I still enjoy it. I don't try to avoid it. Then we walked around for a little while, as Wrecking Ball tried to decide where we were going to go for a few drinks (I really couldn't care less where we went, so I felt almost painfully unhelpful with his decision making). We settled on Paddy's Pub, where he tried two local brews and I had two local wines: a red from Grand Pre just outside Wolfville, and a white from Jost in Truro. The white was delicious, and it was then that I learned that white wine is supposed to be chilled. I hadn't known that! That changes the taste a lot. We were there for at least an hour and a half, talking more. I found myself feeling rather tipsy by the end of my second drink. I was grateful, then, for the slow pace at which we had drank. I'm not interested in being shit-show drunk any more, and my main problem is that I tend to drink a lot very fast.
On Saturday we woke up and had breakfast at the inn. It was delicious. The highlight of the meal, for me, was when I felt somewhat awkward about my table manners and asked Wrecking Ball, "is there a polite way to eat an orange slice?" Then before he could answer, the wedge somehow slipped out of my hands and bounced across the floor. That alone was funny, and then he commented on how smooth a way that was to avoid the issue. Unfortunately, being somewhat congested and hoarse, laughing prevented all breathing so I had to calm down fast and not enjoy the moment properly. I'm laughing at it now.
We drove up to a place called Baxter's Cove and saw a gorgeous waterfall. Ok, it may not be that impressive, but I have seen very few waterfalls in my life and I think they're all beautiful. Then it started raining and we decided not to leave the vehicle the next time we stopped. Now I need to mention that my navigational skills aren't the best. I had us take the wrong exit, and then a slower road because I didn't understand the way routes were named, and by the time we got to Truro it was late in the afternoon. We had intended to sit down for lunch and then drive the Truro > Amherst portion of the Glooscap Trail. Instead, I went into a tearoom and picked up sandwiches and hot drinks to go, making a mental note to go back there one day because it looked like a lovely place to sit and eat. We drove back home via the fastest route after that, and then spent some time talking to Wrecking Ball's dad.
All in all, it was a really great trip. I was sick and therefore kind of internally miserable for a lot of it, I won't deny that, but I still enjoyed it. Then there was the party that I mentioned in Anxiety, but it was actually a good time. I played video games with Eevee and a rotating cast of others, and Wrecking Ball played poker for money and almost won. We got a little drunk (I suspect I was further gone than he was) and went back to his place. We stayed in bed for most of Sunday until I had to go home to get ready for my sorority's weekly meeting which was followed by the pledge ceremony, which went really well.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Anxiety
"I was very nervous, no one knew me. No one knew me."
- Gary Jules, Mad World
I don't know if I have regular panic attacks or if I just have times where I freak out more than usual. I had a real panic attack once, without a doubt, so these days I at least don't worry about dying when I feel my heart racing and my breathing getting tighter: nobody dies from panic attacks. So though I don't know whether I am having another panic attack or just feeling anxious, I go somewhere by myself and take deep breaths to calm down.
I'm writing about this tonight because I had two... shall I say episodes? That sounds dumb. This feeling happened twice this weekend, anyway, and like the jealousy thing I've been thinking about it a lot.
The first time it happened was Saturday night. Wrecking Ball invited me to a fancy dress poker night. I was wearing the same dirty jeans I'd worn for three days. I asked if it would be OK that I wasn't dressed up. He said it would be fine. I didn't bother telling him I actually had a nice black dress in my bookbag because I'd packed for our trip on Wednesday night, before we decided we were only going for one night, and I thought I might need to go straight from our trip to my sorority's pledge ceremony, which is a semi-formal event. We were in a hurry, and he had said it would be fine, assuring me that Eevee, at least, would be dressed casually. So we left, him in a suit and me in my jeans. We walked along a trail in the darkness, and I started to feel tight inside. I'm afraid of the dark. When we got to the party, there were three people who were not dressed up, and about seven who were. I had already started to feel awkward about showing up while not officially invited. We walked through the door and panic hit me hard. I went into the bathroom and put my head between my knees until I calmed down. I didn't want to tell Wrecking Ball that had happened because I didn't want him to feel bad for bringing me, especially since he had expressed concerns about feeling responsible for making sure I had fun while we were there. I did have fun, as soon as I calmed down. But for a few minutes, I didn't want to leave that bathroom. I could have stayed in there all night, safe and alone.
The next day, Sunday, was my sorority's pledge ceremony. I was nervous. I'd met my little sister, Chaser, on only two occasions. I was afraid she would be disappointed when she learned it was me. I imagined that when she heard we had each handpicked our sisters, that there had even been some fights about it, that she might think I had lost a fight over the girl I actually wanted and accepted her as a consolation prize. Then, one pledge was introduced not to her big sister, but to the "teachers" of the pledge class, who explained that her big sister couldn't be there at the ceremony because she had taken her boyfriend to the emergency room that afternoon. In those words, I heard the echoes of a few things I try not to think about. I was feeling more and more on edge. Then, at movie night in Hamlet's dorm, some (re: a lot) of jokes were made that hit on a sensitive topic for me. But I couldn't speak up to tell them those jokes were bothering me. It seemed like admitting they were offending me would mean admitting that it happened. And I can't do that without getting incredibly upset (hands shaking as I type). So then my whole body felt tight, and I couldn't handle it, but I sat there anyway. Wrecking Ball put his arms around me and whispered, "you're twitching, is everything OK?" I said it was, though it wasn't, but I didn't want to get into that yet. I spent the next 100 minutes expecting the jokes to stop, but then they would start again. I tried to just relax into Wrecking Ball's arms and take my deep breaths and then after what seemed like forever, the night was over.
I think what bothers me about these anxious moments is that I'm not in control. I can't just say, "ok, you're safe, just calm down," and then be okay again. I have to wait it out, trying to reassure myself, but then I start to doubt the words I say. I can say whatever positive thing I like, but that doesn't mean I'll believe it. And when I feel myself doubting my words of comfort, any good they did dissipates and I'm back where I started and it just feels like I lost.
- Gary Jules, Mad World
I don't know if I have regular panic attacks or if I just have times where I freak out more than usual. I had a real panic attack once, without a doubt, so these days I at least don't worry about dying when I feel my heart racing and my breathing getting tighter: nobody dies from panic attacks. So though I don't know whether I am having another panic attack or just feeling anxious, I go somewhere by myself and take deep breaths to calm down.
I'm writing about this tonight because I had two... shall I say episodes? That sounds dumb. This feeling happened twice this weekend, anyway, and like the jealousy thing I've been thinking about it a lot.
The first time it happened was Saturday night. Wrecking Ball invited me to a fancy dress poker night. I was wearing the same dirty jeans I'd worn for three days. I asked if it would be OK that I wasn't dressed up. He said it would be fine. I didn't bother telling him I actually had a nice black dress in my bookbag because I'd packed for our trip on Wednesday night, before we decided we were only going for one night, and I thought I might need to go straight from our trip to my sorority's pledge ceremony, which is a semi-formal event. We were in a hurry, and he had said it would be fine, assuring me that Eevee, at least, would be dressed casually. So we left, him in a suit and me in my jeans. We walked along a trail in the darkness, and I started to feel tight inside. I'm afraid of the dark. When we got to the party, there were three people who were not dressed up, and about seven who were. I had already started to feel awkward about showing up while not officially invited. We walked through the door and panic hit me hard. I went into the bathroom and put my head between my knees until I calmed down. I didn't want to tell Wrecking Ball that had happened because I didn't want him to feel bad for bringing me, especially since he had expressed concerns about feeling responsible for making sure I had fun while we were there. I did have fun, as soon as I calmed down. But for a few minutes, I didn't want to leave that bathroom. I could have stayed in there all night, safe and alone.
The next day, Sunday, was my sorority's pledge ceremony. I was nervous. I'd met my little sister, Chaser, on only two occasions. I was afraid she would be disappointed when she learned it was me. I imagined that when she heard we had each handpicked our sisters, that there had even been some fights about it, that she might think I had lost a fight over the girl I actually wanted and accepted her as a consolation prize. Then, one pledge was introduced not to her big sister, but to the "teachers" of the pledge class, who explained that her big sister couldn't be there at the ceremony because she had taken her boyfriend to the emergency room that afternoon. In those words, I heard the echoes of a few things I try not to think about. I was feeling more and more on edge. Then, at movie night in Hamlet's dorm, some (re: a lot) of jokes were made that hit on a sensitive topic for me. But I couldn't speak up to tell them those jokes were bothering me. It seemed like admitting they were offending me would mean admitting that it happened. And I can't do that without getting incredibly upset (hands shaking as I type). So then my whole body felt tight, and I couldn't handle it, but I sat there anyway. Wrecking Ball put his arms around me and whispered, "you're twitching, is everything OK?" I said it was, though it wasn't, but I didn't want to get into that yet. I spent the next 100 minutes expecting the jokes to stop, but then they would start again. I tried to just relax into Wrecking Ball's arms and take my deep breaths and then after what seemed like forever, the night was over.
I think what bothers me about these anxious moments is that I'm not in control. I can't just say, "ok, you're safe, just calm down," and then be okay again. I have to wait it out, trying to reassure myself, but then I start to doubt the words I say. I can say whatever positive thing I like, but that doesn't mean I'll believe it. And when I feel myself doubting my words of comfort, any good they did dissipates and I'm back where I started and it just feels like I lost.
Jealousy
"Wh- wh- why won't the world revolve around me?"
- Fall Out Boy, America's Suitehearts
I often feel jealous of other girls. They are happier, prettier, skinnier, and more successful than me. But until recently I had never felt this jealousy aimed at someone because of my relationship. There were two situations that came close: when Acadia lived with She Who Must Not Be Named while we were still dating, and the night I saw Sin with the girl who was clearly a better match for him. In both cases, however, I felt angry. I was mad at Acadia for staying in that situation when he had other options, and I was mad at myself for thinking Sin and I had any staying power.
So it came as a surprise when, in a bakery in Brooklyn, NS, I found myself filling with jealousy, feeling almost territorial.
Wrecking Ball and I took a little road trip this weekend (I promise I'll talk about the good points later!), and on the way back we stopped in a tiny bakery in a tiny town (Google tells me the population is barely 1000 people). The girl behind the counter was pretty. She had some slightly unfortunate blemishes, but there was something else about her that was attractive in a way I couldn't describe. Surprising myself, I was immediately on edge. She was making a lot of eye contact with Wrecking Ball. When I am serving customers who are clearly a couple, I make almost equal eye contact with both partners and I make sure to smile specifically at the woman. I have never known why I do this, because whenever I notice I am doing it I think I'm being ridiculous, and I tell myself, "only an insane woman could feel threatened by a woman on the other side of the counter of a Taco Bell!" But there I was, suddenly not hungry at all, and wishing we would just get out of the store already, and wishing that pretty bitch would stop smiling at my boyfriend. She said all sorts of things about the products and by the time she was done I decidedly wanted not a crumb from that stupid place. But I bought a loaf of gingerbread because I couldn't think of a polite way not to want anything, especially because she was so damn friendly when she suggested I try one of the samples on the counter. I paid for my loaf and for Wrecking Ball's, which he probably saw as me trying to even out the balance of the trip's costs, but was really done out of an insane urge not to see their fingers touch as he handed her money.
Finally, we were out of the store, and back in the car, safe in a little bubble of togetherness. But then he said, in a tone of voice I couldn't place but didn't like, "I was really impressed by how well she knew the product" or something similar. And right then, in my head, I could hear myself saying two very different but equally insane things: "Let's go back to that bakery, I'd like to tear her eyes out," or "Would you like me to list every ingredient of every menu item at Taco Bell in the order in which they are put on? I could also tell you the order in which the hot, cold, and fry tables are assembled, or the quality timers for each item, or the temperature at which they are ready to be served..."
I don't want to see myself as a crazy, jealous woman. But that little episode made me frightened that I am just that. And it also made me irrationally angry at Wrecking Ball for not reading my mind and reassuring me that he wasn't about to run off to that tiny town to pursue a relationship with the girl who knew so much about the bread she was selling. Because you know, I should totally expect him to do that.
I'm really unimpressed with myself for feeling all of this. But the whole scene has been on replay in my mind for two days now, so I had to vent.
- Fall Out Boy, America's Suitehearts
I often feel jealous of other girls. They are happier, prettier, skinnier, and more successful than me. But until recently I had never felt this jealousy aimed at someone because of my relationship. There were two situations that came close: when Acadia lived with She Who Must Not Be Named while we were still dating, and the night I saw Sin with the girl who was clearly a better match for him. In both cases, however, I felt angry. I was mad at Acadia for staying in that situation when he had other options, and I was mad at myself for thinking Sin and I had any staying power.
So it came as a surprise when, in a bakery in Brooklyn, NS, I found myself filling with jealousy, feeling almost territorial.
Wrecking Ball and I took a little road trip this weekend (I promise I'll talk about the good points later!), and on the way back we stopped in a tiny bakery in a tiny town (Google tells me the population is barely 1000 people). The girl behind the counter was pretty. She had some slightly unfortunate blemishes, but there was something else about her that was attractive in a way I couldn't describe. Surprising myself, I was immediately on edge. She was making a lot of eye contact with Wrecking Ball. When I am serving customers who are clearly a couple, I make almost equal eye contact with both partners and I make sure to smile specifically at the woman. I have never known why I do this, because whenever I notice I am doing it I think I'm being ridiculous, and I tell myself, "only an insane woman could feel threatened by a woman on the other side of the counter of a Taco Bell!" But there I was, suddenly not hungry at all, and wishing we would just get out of the store already, and wishing that pretty bitch would stop smiling at my boyfriend. She said all sorts of things about the products and by the time she was done I decidedly wanted not a crumb from that stupid place. But I bought a loaf of gingerbread because I couldn't think of a polite way not to want anything, especially because she was so damn friendly when she suggested I try one of the samples on the counter. I paid for my loaf and for Wrecking Ball's, which he probably saw as me trying to even out the balance of the trip's costs, but was really done out of an insane urge not to see their fingers touch as he handed her money.
Finally, we were out of the store, and back in the car, safe in a little bubble of togetherness. But then he said, in a tone of voice I couldn't place but didn't like, "I was really impressed by how well she knew the product" or something similar. And right then, in my head, I could hear myself saying two very different but equally insane things: "Let's go back to that bakery, I'd like to tear her eyes out," or "Would you like me to list every ingredient of every menu item at Taco Bell in the order in which they are put on? I could also tell you the order in which the hot, cold, and fry tables are assembled, or the quality timers for each item, or the temperature at which they are ready to be served..."
I don't want to see myself as a crazy, jealous woman. But that little episode made me frightened that I am just that. And it also made me irrationally angry at Wrecking Ball for not reading my mind and reassuring me that he wasn't about to run off to that tiny town to pursue a relationship with the girl who knew so much about the bread she was selling. Because you know, I should totally expect him to do that.
I'm really unimpressed with myself for feeling all of this. But the whole scene has been on replay in my mind for two days now, so I had to vent.
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