Neurotic Ramblings

Archive for the ‘caution: vent in use. may be hot.’ Category

Let’s change this up a bit, shall we?

Remember when I was all “I’m awesome, and gorgeous, and amazing and pretty and funny and a dance machine and omg, wouldn’t you just loooove to be me?!” ?

Yeah, I don’t either.  I seem to have taken myself off my own pedestal and didn’t even realize it. 

But guess what?!  I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! 

Yes, the narcissistic diva you’ve grown to love to hate is back with a vengenace. A girl’s gotta make up for lost time.

Life has been fabulous.  The parties have been amazing and every day has proven to be better than the last.

It’s incredible what one good day can do to change your perspective.  Just yesterday this blog would have been wah wah wah, but no.  I don’t have time for that.

I’m getting back to my stuck up, pretentious, better-than- you self and not making any apologies for it.  Wanna know why?  Because I am fan-fucking-tastic, that’s why.

And by “you”, you know I don’t mean you, my loves.  Ya’ll know I love each and every one of you!!!

But I’m serious.  I dress the part, I walk the part, I talk it and live it, I just don’t know why it hasn’t been coming across on here. 

I read my blogs and my skin crawled.  Who is this dark, whiny person who has seem to have taken over for me and why is she bitching all the time and not even in a sarcastic manner???

Unacceptable, my friends. 

Everything used to be so tongue-in-cheek, inside joke, look at us we’re fabulous…and then BAM!  Negativity central hit.  And the weird part was that it happened just as everything is so awesome in my personal life. 

I don’t need to be miserable to crank out a good blog.  I can do it just fine when I’m oh so happy.  I just need to sharpen up my wit and cook up some snark and I’m on my way with a recipe for Pecosaliciousness. 

Oh yes honey, I’m back.

• New jeans.  Lots of them.  At least 3 pairs.
• New shoes.  I NEED new wedges like a crackhead needs…well, crack.
• Cute, work appropriate Spring dresses.
• A new laptop.
• A new phone.
• A chocolate brown loveseat.
• New jewelry.  Mama needs some more bling!
• New yoga pants & workout tanks.
• New trainers.
• New flat sandals.
• A new purse.
• To lose 20 lbs.
• To quit smoking.
• To get my fat ass back in the gym.
• To get my hair done.
• A mani/pedi in whatever fabulous spring polish is in.
• Cushions for my dining room table chairs.
• For my spine to stop cracking every time I stand up.
• New Sharpie Pens because mine already ran out of ink.
• A new coffee mug.

Most of all, really, I just needed to make a list.  So voila. I’m hoping it makes my Monday a little less “meh”.

That is all.  Good day.  Ciao.
Oh, hey, you know what ELSE I need that would make me UBER HAPPY?!  If YOU joined my site using the Google Friend Connect widget on the right.  See that over there?  Yeah, that one.  Jeff’s looking a bit lonely over there!!! (thanks, btw, for joining, Jeff!)  So go, click, you can totes count this as your good deed of the day, promise!

Ha, what a difference a day makes! 

The original title of this post was: This blog is brought to you by the letter B and the number P as in Pinot Grigio.

Partly (mostly), because I was blitzed on some when I wrote it, and then somehow forgot to post it.   Read on…

I want to bare my soul right now, but I can’t.

What the hell do you do when your moral core contradicts your heart?  When you see the fairy tale ending, but you’re the Wicked Witch of the West in the story?

Am I expecting a house to fall on me any minute now?  Absofuckinglutely.  Do I want to do anything about it?   Ansofuckinglutely NOT.

Why am I not allowed to be happy?  I’ve thought this many times over the past few days as this little line plays in my head: “My happiness is more important to me than yours”.  While it’s a bitch ass thing to say, it’s nothing but the truth.

Shit, who’s gonna worry about me and my feelings and my heart and my life if not myself?  That’s right, a whole lotta no one.

So to those of you who feel the need to run your mouth and talk your shit, I say this:  Keep talking, bitches,  you have no life.  Kiss my fucking sweet ass.  =)  ahahaha, you wish you fking could.

/drunken/dramatic rambles.

So, most of the sentiment remains the same: “You don’t like me?  Kiss my ass!”  I’ma do me & you can do you. 

But oh, fuck!  I let my feelings get the best of me.  This includes anger and irrantional…impatience.  Or something of the sorts. 

Anyfuckingway…I’ve neglected this place long enough.  Partly because of time constraints, mostly because I’m conscious about who reads it.  But then, I read this awesome post by Shine over at http://www.ishineoutloud.com/shine/  Go ahead, click the link!!!  (I know only like, three people read this blog and all, but two of you really need to read her last particular blog because she said everything I needed to say just so much better and the third one of you needs to go read her posts because she’s full of awesome). 

So now that you’re back, know that if you stumble on here and read something that hurts your feelings or you take personally or just puts your panties all in a twist, too fucking bad.

I’m me.  The same spazzy, foul-mouthed, emotional, insensitive, selfish, narcissitic drama queen you know and love.  You can like me or love me; you can try to hate me; but I’ma be me.

Besitos

I’m <this> close to throwing in the towel.  I’ve had it.

I can’t even find the words to properly describe my frustration with my life lately.  I want help.  I want my kids’ dad to fking step up and take care of shit.  Take the kids away from me every once in a while.  I can’t do this.  I’m losing my g-d mind.  Homework, projects, daycare, clothes, meals, mommy, mommy, mommy.  It’s never ending.  Yes, I’m frustrated.  And fk whoever thinks I’m a weaker person for admitting it.  I WILL get through this and I WILL come out shining and the project WILL be kick ass and I’ll figure out my finances, but DAMNIT, I can rant about it in the process because getting it out is the only thing that will keep me sane.

I’m walking out of the library, frustrated because it’s late, it’s cold, it’s raining and I don’t have cash to pay for the print-outs and they don’t take debit cards.  The circles under my eyes are big and dark because I’ve stayed up late the past few couple of days.  I’m exhausted and it shows.  I looked cute all day, but at that moment when I’m walking out, I feel the hell of the last couple of days weighing me down.  And who do I see as I’m walking out?  Of course it’s him and his girlfriend.  Looking as merry as ever, with NO FKING KIDS.   No, her kids are who knows where and he can’t take care of his/mine because of some lame ass excuse or another.  WHY???

A great friend of mine hit me with reality this morning.  I was wondering to myself, and to him on gchat as well I suppose, “Why would a guy NOT want to date me?”  Yes, it was a moment of self-absorption, but my friend was quick to burst it.  You have BAGGAGE.  An ex who isn’t worth the air that he breathes, no degree, and two kids.  It will take a strong man to want to take on raising two kids that aren’t his.  SAY WHA?!  I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.  Maybe because I’m not looking for a baby daddy replacement, or a husband, or anything more than a companion at this point.  My kids don’t need a dad.  They have one.  And financial matters aside, a great one at that.  Yes, contradiction is my strong point.  But fuck.  I’m tired of being lonely.  I’m tired of not having someone there to share MY life with.  Maybe not every aspect, but most of it.

-Maybe- I need to stay away from emotionally unavailable men.  Maybe I need to stay away from men altogether.  But c’mon, how many times have you heard me say that???

But this is what I do.  I let everything build up, get frustrated as fuck, let it all out, and then everything is right again.  This is how I manage to function.  It’s a scary thought.  All my breakdowns are neatly chronicled in a web page accessible for the world to see.  But at the same time, it’s a bit freeing.  Maybe, I just need to write more.

And thank you to the person who inspired the title to this post.  I hope my crazy streak hasn’t scared you off too much.

I want:

• milk
• cookies
• better-than-sex cake
• a glass or two of wine
• a deli sandwich with turkey pastrami, guenoa salami & jalapeno jack cheese
• an ice cold coke (almost frozen to slushy-like consistency)
• a dos xx michelada
• these kids to go to sleep and get up out my face
• a droid phone
• a mani/pedi/massage
• an all about me day
• to go shopping for new lingerie
• for this semester to be done with
• to dissapear for a day or two

I’m obviously hormonal and this bitch of a day hasn’t helped.  Mother Nature can suck it.

There are very few people left on my “I don’t hate your face right now” list.  I’ve been on the war path all day so if I’m still talking/texting/emailing you, consider yourself special because even the bff and the fam caught my bitch-assness today.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll level out because Mother Dear has decided to make me take the kids to the carnival and come with.  That should be interesting.  Thank goodness for happy pills.

I’ve been sitting here trying to fight this feeling that almost overpowers me.  It’s not an emotion.  It’s, well fuck, is anxiety an emotion?  All I know is it sucks.  It makes me shaky and impulsive and as much as I try to not think about it, it becomes overbearing.

With all the thinking and worrying I do over stupid shit you’d figure I wouldn’t have enough time to feel depressed or anxious or panicky.  I’d just be thinking all the time and not feeling.

And for the last few days I’ve been sad here and there and antsy here and there, but not to the level where it’s gotten before.  And this happens.  I go through a tough bout and then I’m ok and then that’s when I decide maybe I don’t need help and maybe I can control this on my own and everything will be ok.  But then it gets worse and I wish I would have done something about it but it’s too late because I’m screaming my head off or ignoring everyone I care about and just miserable to the point where it’s just too much to put up with.

Not this time, though.  This time I’m choosing to get help.  Regardless of the judgment that will be passed, because it will.  Regardless of the fact that I will feel defeated for turning to this instead of battling it out on my own.

But this is enough.
Enough insomnia.
Enough anxiety.
Enough irrational panic.
Enough.

It happened again today.  I just had to look at his profile.  I didn’t want to.  I knew I shouldn’t.  I knew it was a bad idea.

But there it was, staring me in the face.  A pic of him and a chick.  A weird looking chick, but a chick nonetheless.

The guy who complained that I didn’t post pictures of us.  The guy who complained that I didn’t text him enough or call him enough.  The guy that I wasn’t good enough for.  The guy who said things that gave me hope.  The guy who strung me along.

There he was, smiling, with his arm around another girl.

The picture burned me more than I care to admit.

Yeah, it’s been more than a few months since he cut the cords that day that I finally gave in to his question…”tell me what you want”  …”I want you…to be with you”  those words tore down whatever it was that I had built up in my head.  Those words that I regret ever  saying because maybe, just maybe, he’d still be here if I hadn’t said them.

But now here I am, alone and trying to type through tear-filled eyes.

It’s not fair.  I don’t want to feel like this.

I didn’t ask for this.  It was just supposed to be a stupid crush, nothing more.

And I looked for ways to forget him in places I shouldn’t have gone.   And those regrets pile on top of the pain that I feel when I think of him and it’s just.not.fair.

It was never anything more than what it was.  A “whatever it is”.  And now it’s not and I want it back and he won’t ever know.

I should be incredibly happy right now.  I had an amazing time on my birthday, my belief that I have amazing friends was reaffirmed, and everything went off without a hitch.

Apparently though, I don’t do happy.

I’m shaky and mopey and everything makes me want to cry/punch things.  I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow; I don’t want to go to class.  I don’t want to leave my house.  I want to sit here on this couch and let life pass me by.  I don’t want to work on projects.  I don’t want to watch TV.  I don’t want to bake cookies.  I don’t even want to crawl into bed and sleep.  I’m sad and lonely and pathetic and I hate it because I don’t get it.  I really should be incredibly happy.

So because of I need a much needed attitude adjustment, the birthday blog recap will have to wait.  I don’t want to fuck up my memories of the day with depressing bullshit.

I hope you all are having an awesome Labor Day and enjoying the hell out of it.

Besos.

Whoa.

That is the overall sentiment regarding last night.

A few highlights…showing someone a picture of another someone’s torso and it being recognized. I’m cutting my losses short here (again) and not bothering with it anymore.

I have got to stay away from…damnit, I can’t even say keywords, nicknames or give context clues without giving myself away here.

I’m pretty sure I grabbed my ex’s girlfriend when she walked in last night and said “Hey, ma!” very loudly. He looked annoyed. Oh wells.

I danced. Oh.my.gawd. did I dance. And then I stumbledanced to techno. I wonder if I can coin that term. Or if I would even want to…

My phonebook is trouble.

I need coffee in an IV drip. Preferably Flavia’s Intense Dark Roast.

Anything and everything I say after midnight cannot and will not be held against me. This includes texts, emails, phone calls, personal conversations and telepathic glances. The midnight stipulation is null and void if I’ve had more than three shots before midnight at which point the rule applies then and there. I guess I should also include myspace, facebook and twitter communication in here as well.

Ok, now that I’ve had my coffee and I’m eating an Oreo cookie I can go on a proper mini-rant and toot my own horn a bit in the process:

I’m fucking awesome. I know I have my quirks and I’m a bit neurotic at times, but I’m a good person, damnit. Yes, I may be stuck up, but if it weren’t for the narcissist in me I’d crumble at my own insecurities. I’m loud, but not obnoxiously loud. I’m a sweetheart. I really am. I like to make people happy. I’m a people pleaser, sometimes to a fault, and sometimes to my own advantage, but I can’t help it if I want people to like me. I’m pretty. I may not have a perfect body, but I’m pretty fucking hot. I’m a dance machine. I have a bright future ahead of me. I’m not as responsible as I’d like to be, but I’m doing a pretty damn good job with what I have. I call when I say I will and I always return texts. I feel like I should end this with “I like to go for long walks on the beach” (which I do, btw) But seriously guys, I had to write this so I don’t feel insignificant and undeserving. I feel like I should be back in middle school yelling “Why doesn’t he like meeeeeee?!” to my best friend. It’s stupid and fucking ridiculous and this is why it’s reserved to be written on my blog instead of shouted at the top of my lungs.

Ok…/ pitty-party rant.

I love you. I hate you. Isn’t it the same anymore?
I see you lying through your teeth every time you talk to me.
Can you really not see?

I read right through your bullshit lines
I see through the grainy fim you so adamantly insist on wearing over that shit eating grin
I know you pretend to care, to have feelings, to say things you don’t mean

But deep down we both know the truth.
We know why you’re there
We know why you stay
We know that even though you say you’d leave in a heartbeat, you’re stuck
It’s your addiction
You get off on that shit
You play the victim card and say it’s what you need right now
But it’s not
What you need is someone to validate you
To make you feel like the incompetence you bring forth is actually not your fault
But it is
You let them console you with gifts and phones and cars and clothes
Like a good little bitch, you play your part
It’s sad really, but at the same time comically amusing
To watch you take it all in and then refute it

In the infamous words of a character in your favorite movie when you were a kid:
You’re a sad, sad little man. You have my pity,