Neurotic Ramblings

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Frankly speaking, I’ve been floating. Reality is passing me by as I’m stuck in a sort of trance trying not to replay scenarios in my head and other possible outcomes.

Everything that happens seems to not register completely. As if I’m living in a dream.
I want to wake up and everything be back to normal; I need things to go back to the way they were and everything to be ok again.

Things aren’t bad. They’re actually quite ok, all things considered. But it’s not the same. I feel in debt to people. I feel like I’m not holding my own. And in truth, I’m not.

I’m relying on my amazing support system to keep me afloat; keep me from sinking into the inevitable abyss that seems to lurk under me no matter how hard I try to force myself away. But it will always be there waiting for me to fall.

The trick is to surround myself with people who won’t weigh me down, but instead help me up. And it’s actually not much of a trick since I have amazing people in my life.

I’m letting some things fall where they may. I don’t want to think of it as losing focus, but rather prioritizing. Some things just don’t seem as important anymore.

I’m constantly reminding people not be so hard on themselves. We are, as cliché as it sounds, our own worst critics (although I do think some people are incredibly critical of me but they don’t really matter anyway). I need to remind myself of that. I’ve fallen before and I’ve gotten back up.

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.

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.

Not fully awake.  Barely focused.  Hungry as hell. 
Yeah, that’s me.
I went to bed early last night.  Out cold by 11 pm only to be awakened at 1 am by anxiety that stemmed from nowhere.
Still, I would say I got a great night’s sleep.
So why are these dark circles under my eyes?  Why does my brain feel only half wired?
Well, if I knew the answer you best believe I’d change it because dark circles on my light complexion do not a good look make.
 
I’ve been thinking lately, and it’s probably not a good thing.  Ha.  Anywhoozle.  This whole “timing” thing really blows. 
“The timing is off”
“We should have met a year ago”
“Our timing always sucks”
 
Bull.shit.  How about this:  It will never be the “right time”; perfect timing doesn’t happen.  You work with what you’ve got and you enjoy it till it’s gone. 
If someone doesn’t make time for you, then they’re not worth your time. 
End of story.
 
I refuse to put myself in another situation with a time frame. 
I know inevitably all realtionships come with an unspoken time frame, but when you know the limit on yours, it’s time to move on.
 
I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life.  I have a friend who is aching so badly to settle down.  She wants a husband and house and the whole nine yards and she wants it now. 
 
I don’t.  I’m not looking for the person who I’m going to “spend the rest of my life with” which is a concept I dont’ believe in anyway.  I’m 23, sure I have kids, but I have my whole life ahead of me. 

I’m enjoying this part of my life where I have to respond to no one.  Dating is apparently out of the question because, well, the timing is always off!  LMAO.  Excuse me while I laugh at that. 
I guess there’s something about knowing that every person you get involved with will eventually piss you off or you them and whatever was going on will spontaneously combust.  But that’s also a good thing. 

I don’t to have to worry about the “where is this going?” and the “will this eventually lead to a serious thing” type questions.  All I want to know is that someone cares enough and finds me awesome enough to want to hang out with me.  That someone respects me enough to tell me when they’re ready to move on.  Someone who can be comfortable with seeing me exclusively even though I can’t devote more than 10% of my time to them. 

I don’t know. I’ve done the marriage thing and while the situation wasn’t perfect, the concept was the same.  I’d rather not go through that again. 
You want eggs and pancakes in the morning?  You get your ass up and make them yourself.  Oh, and pick up your damn socks!  You’re not a molting snake, damnit!!!  (ha, constant arguments, child on the side and the one thing I choose to complain about is the socks? you gotta love me!!!)

 
So no, I don’t believe in this whole perfect timing bullshit.  People are always busy these days and you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.  I, apparently, seem to attract or be attracted to (can’t decide on this yet) the guys who are ready to leave this place.  Move on to bigger and better things.  I’m taking that as a good thing for now because I’ll take one of those guys over one that sees no problem with living in Brownsville for the rest of their lives anyday.  I’ve got to respect ambition. 

But I will admit that it fucking sucks.  You meet someone you’re attracted to and they say all the right things, do all the right things, and you start liking them more and more everyday and them bam!  They’re moving.  And then comes the whole “this sucks, I hate it, you’re amazing, blah blah blah….” conversation that I’d really rather not have because it doesn’t serve a purpose.  I already know I’m amazing, you don’t need to tell me.  Yes, it does sucks, but you’re bettering yourself and you’re saying what you’re saying for my sake and I don’t apreciate it very much.  I’m leaving this place too; I’m just on a different time frame. 

First off, fuck you Mother Nature.  You fucking suck.  I hate you.
 
If I can channel this sad, mopey mood into an agry one I’ll be ok.  I’d rather be a raging bitch.
 
So…to combat these hormone induced moods here’s today’s version of Thursday Thirteen:  13 things that make me feel sexy
 
1.  FMPs.  Yep, there’s nothing sexier or better at improving a girl’s mood than strutting in some killer fuck-me-pumps.
 
2.  Making his toes curl 
 
3.  Going out dancing with my girls.  
 
4.  Tight jeans.  The right pair can make any girl feel like a million bucks.
 
5.  Red lipstick.  Enough said.
 
6.  Freshly done nails in bright colors. 
 
7.  Cocktail rings to go with pretty manicures.
 
8.  Sexy undies under my favorite pair of comfy jeans.
 
9.  Middle of the day sexy texts.
 
10.  Wearing my hair down when I’ve just blown it out.
 
11.  Bedroom eyes.
 
12.  Boobalicious shirts.
 
13.  And the most important one:  feeling comfortable and confident in who I am.
 
 
Wow, that helped.  Ok my darlings, I’m off to bitch someone out for not putting enough caffeine in my coffee.  Love, love, love!
 
Besitos!
 
 

The smell hit her as soon as she entered the room; stale cigarettes and cheap beer were staples in his life as of late.  He sat on the couch going through his phone, not exactly sure what he was looking for.

The latest one had left him and there they were again, ten years later, in the same situation.  They spoke not a word.  They didn’t have to.  Over the years of arguing and screaming and using words as their poison of choice they had learned that peace and love was kept best in silence.

He noticed her shortly after she had walked in.  Her presence had always commanded attention in the most subtle of ways.  His gaze fixed on her and for all the relief and gratefulness he felt, he couldn’t even bring himself to smile, but his eyes said it all.  They always had.

They walked down the hallway towards her car.  She had made him clean himself up a bit before walking out the door.  That was one of the things she missed the most about him.  His arrogance and pride had always kept looking him clean. 

He was broken now.  He was broken and she couldn’t fix him. Not this time.  No, this time it was different.  He had given himself in.  Given up the others who gave him what he wanted, the ones who took care of him and supported his lifestyle.  The ones who could pick him up from this mess financially.  Now they were gone and so was the one he ran them all off for.

The one he never gave up sat next to him now, comforting him like only she knew how.  They had put each other through hell.  They had been through it all and to this day remained the only constant in each other’s lives. 

He was there through her bad decisions and she was there through his self-destruction phases.  As sick as it was, they had once both found delight in the other’s pain.  But as the years passed by and they grew further away from the destructive and painful past they once shared, they had come to learn to appreciate and value one another.

It was always understood from the moment their paths crossed again that nothing could ever come from that fateful meeting other than a twisted quid pro quo friendship.  Sure, the sexual tension was always there.  But they knew entirely too much about one another and that knowledge crushed whatever desires attempted to build up inside them.  This was nothing more than two people who had bared their souls and put their pride on the line in an effort to have what everyone longs for.  A soul mate. 

You see, to them a soul mate wasn’t in the form of a relationship linked partner.  No, a soul mate was one who knew them inside and out, the good and the bad, the pure and the evil.  One who knew how to heal wounds with a look and an embrace without judgment spoken, although it was constantly there.  They were soul mates, walking the earth in search of something they knew didn’t exist, but incessantly looking for it either way.

It was this mutual understanding that allowed them to remain functional human beings…

The differences between being a gold-digger and a pampered princess:
A gold-digger is with you because of your assets.  All she is interested in is what materialistic stuff you can give her.

A pampered princess actually likes you for you.  The gifts and dinners and dates and nice things you do for her are icing on top of the cake; they’re part of why she likes you, but not the main reason.

 
A gold-digger expects you to pay.  She has it in her head that it’s your job and that’s about all you’re good for when you’re with her.  If you can’t cover the bill, it seems you’re going to end up washing dishes because she can’t even cover her half.

A pampered princess assumes you’re going to pay since you invited her out, after all, and it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.  She, however, is prepared to foot the bill in case you turn out to be a cheapskate and fiddle with the bill a bit too long implying that either a) you expect her to cover her order or b) you ordered the most expensive meal on the plate and now you want to split it down the middle or the worst of the worst: c) you expect her to cover all of the bill because you picked up the check at McDonalds last time you took her out. 

 
A gold-digger will only hang out with you when you’re looking your best, decked out in your gear and taking her out.  She likes to show you off when you’re flashing your card and showing the world that you spoil her and pay for everything.

A pampered princess likes hanging out with you on a Sunday morning, chillin in pj’s, eating cereal while watching tv.  She likes to show you off both when you’re in your broken-in jeans, t-shirt and sandals or dressed to the 9s and ready to take her out. 

 
I feel like I’m putting way too much thought into this and trying to justify myself.  I want to be spoiled.  I want to be pampered.  I want to be taken care of every once in a while. 

Yes, I love being independent.  I take pride in it.  I want to be able to say I got this for myself and I don’t need anyone to help me get it.  But every once in a while it’s nice to hear, “no, I got this, you deserve it”.  It’s nice to be able to indulge in a luxury without worrying about how it will affect next month’s bills.  No, I’m not saying I expect this 24/7.  Heaven knows I’ve put in more than my fair share of supporting someone, no questions asked.  I have no problem footing the bill every other time.  It’s only fair.  But when I’m made to feel guilty for being taken somewhere, and it’s always by subtleties like a snide comment or a hesitation when the bill arrives, that pisses me the fuck off.  How about you don’t invite me out?  Or if you can’t afford to hang out that night then opt out.  I pay for my friends when I know they’re down and I do it because they’d do the same for me and because I know they won’t take advantage and order the most expensive thing they see, or keep a tab on how many more drinks I’ve had than them, or eat off my plate or my friend’s plate and embarrass the fuck out of me. 

I hate feeling guilty for thinking this way.  I feel hypocritical to think that women deserve the same rights and respect that men get, but still want to be treated like a lady by their guy.  Men have twisted the concept of feminism and liberal women into a web that benefits them.  Since women want to feel powerful and assume “male roles” then they should be able to assume the same roles in the dating world.  Sorry, but no.  If I’m guilty of faulty logic, then so be it.  I’m tired of cheap asses and embarrassment.    I’m tired of saying “don’t worry about it…”  I want to be spoiled.  I want to be pampered.  And I want to feel like I’m worth it.  Not like you’re going out of your way to spoil me only so you can rub it in my face later and tell me about how broke you are now because of that one fucking time you actually did something for me.

Being spoiled is not a bad a thing.  Wanting to be spoiled doesn’t make someone shallow.
Expecting someone to take care of you when you have nothing more to offer than your looks is gold-digging. 

Knowing your worth, being able to offer intellect, looks, wit and good company and allowing yourself to be pampered every now and then is every woman’s right. 

 
What do you think, ladies?  Am I right on point or way off base on this one? 

Guys, am I asking for too much?  What do you expect from a girl when you’re taking her out on a date?  What about if you’ve been in a relationship for a while, do expectations change?

 
*Oh, and please note that this was written a long while back and in no way reflects my current situation.  I’ve been happily single and supporting no one’s habits but my own recently with a smile on my face and a pep in my step.*

I woke up with an almost unsurpassable need to yell “JACKASS!” this morning.
It’s frustrating to not be able to just yell it out and get it over with.

I guess it’s like a requirement for every guy to have at least one friend
who is a douchebag, and one jackass that follows along with said douchebag
every now and again.

Most douchebags are open about their douchebaggery though. One look at the
guy and you just *know* he’s a douche.

Assholes are not usually this easy to spot, their bag of tricks is well
hidden under false pretenses and only used when a threat is sensed, be it a
threat to their ego, their manhood or anything else that might expose them
as being “emotional”. But this blog isn’t about assholes. Nope.

Now, the jackass. The jackass is usually pretty laid back and doesn’t
really *look* for trouble. No, he just sits back and watches the douche
make an ass out of himself. Laughs along, plays along, and then, when the
douchebag has everyone either laughing or reeling at him, he strikes. Usually
it’s a lame ass burn, something that might pierce and hurt a bit; it leaves
you thinking “what the fuck? How dare you?”

So the douchebag doesn’t catch heat because, well, everyone *knows* he’s a
douche and they put up with him anyway, but the jackass usually ends up
upsetting someone with his attempt to be funny or manly or whatever it was
he was trying to do.

In any event, my issue is not with douchebags, assholes *or* jackasses. No,
my issue is with the fake ones. The ones that pretend to be something they
are not; the ones that hide behind a façade of apologies, niceties, and
twisted reasoning. And the sad thing is that they are usually hiding and
talking shit out of spite because of something that happened to them.

If you’re a douchebag, then make no apologies for it. It’s who you are. If
you go around talking shit and apologizing for it just to talk shit again,
it makes you look like a fucking ass.

If you have an issue with someone for whatever fucking reason, then don’t be
lame about it and just talk shit out of your ass. If you dislike someone
then how about staying the fuck away from them? If you get your jollies
from talking shit, you have to know that you’re eventually going to end with
a foot up your ass, right? Right???

*I wrote this last Thursday after a chat with a good friend of mine about
his kid and outdoor activities for kids. After being out of town this
weekend, I think I have a better appreciation for this town and the
foundation it gives its youth. It may not be perfect, glamorous or
innovative, but it’s home.*

Austin was an awesome place to raise to my kids.

I miss Zilker Park. Playing with the kids, walking down the creek, riding
the Zilker Zephyr, children’s museums, just the whole atmosphere.

I fucking miss it like you wouldn’t imagine.

I’m crying right now because it hurts that I took that away from my kids. I
brought them to a shitty ass town with no diversity, where everyone is
judgmental and one-track minded.

I like the fact that people are more family oriented and tight knit here,
but fuck. There’s nothing fun to do! Same old park, same old resacas that
stink and aren’t even pretty to look at.

No driving up by the lake to see the dam. No driving up the hills and
looking at the gorgeous scenery. No picnics at the park, lunches at amazing
restaurants or hanging out in our beautiful apartment just watching movies
and being a family.

And what cuts me even more is that they miss it too. It’s always “Mommy,
remember when we used to take walks by…or go play at…or when you would
take us…” It fucking breaks my heart.

I need to go back. And I will. But I’m afraid by the time I get there my
kids will be “valley kids” with a “valley mentality” and a “valley
attitude”. I would hate that.

I want my kids to grow up appreciating the differences in people. I want
them to explore and expand their knowledge to the brink of their capacity.
I don’t want them to be close-minded. I don’t want them to think that this
is all the world has to offer. I won’t have that.

And I know I can teach them all that here and the way they see the world
doesn’t all have to do with where they live, but how they are raised. I
know that.

It was just so much easier to do that in a city that invites creativity,
praises individuality and opens up the possibilities of the unthinkable.

Three more years, babies. Only three more years.

*As a side note, my monkeys are up in Austin right now spending time with
their cousins and the rest of the other side of the family. They’re having
a blast. And I couldn’t be happier if I tried.*

I am getting this out before it boils enough and spills out in the form of spoken word.
Fuck this shit. I’m done.
I deserve better. I want better.

It’s so simple to fall into a casual lay. To be honest, I don’t have the time or energy to invest in meeting new people. I just don’t. This was convenient. It was easy. It was fun.

But, I’m also a woman. Which means that I’m programmed to inevitably get attached. Even though I don’t want to. Even though I know it won’t work. Even though I know I’ll get hurt.

I just didn’t think I was going to be this moody about it. Like, seriously. One minute I’m all about the casual, not so many strings attached whathaveyous and then the next I’m clingy and insecure and demanding immediate attention. What the hell? Maybe it has a bit to do with the all the cuddling and babying and “I wish it were more even though I know it can’t be” that I keep getting. But, I’m also getting the brush off, the asshole attitude, and fuck, my heart is racing just typing about this. It pisses me the fuck off. Why does he have to be such an asshole?! Can I have the past three months back, please?

It always starts smoothly, no? Dinner, movies, good conversation, just hanging out and some sex every now and then. There is effort on the other party’s side to make plans and see you, to call, to text. And then bam, next thing you know all that has faded and been replaced with a string of “what are you doing tonight?” that no longer means you’re getting taken out on a date, it means you’re getting lucky. And for a while that’s all cool and shit, because honestly, who has the time to be going on dates all the time? For someone who has their calendar full for the next two months with things kid and work related, this should work out perfectly. You have great sex and get on with your life. Had the whole thing started off as an FB kind of thing, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

But it’s the fact that it turned into that that pisses me off.

I know why it happened. I know it’s my fault. I should have never been this available. I shouldn’t have payed that much attention. I shouldn’t have tried to make it something it wasn’t.
I knew what the outcome would be. And I’ve typed this out before yet still go back to him because falling back into an already existing sexual relationship is easier, more convenient, and safer than going out and having to establish some sort of connection with someone, wait as long as it takes to feel comfortable and make sure they’re not pervs/psychos/weirdos before actually thinking about sleeping with them. Not to mention the fact that as much as I talk about sex, my libido is close to non-existant lately. I kind of just crave a warm body lying next to me.

I don’t get it. I’m confused and I really don’t know what I’m saying anymore. All I know is this sucks and I hate reacting like this. I feel like a silly school girl with a crush. I’m stronger than this. I don’t play games, I don’t put guys through tests, I am moody, but not to the extreme that it has been getting to lately. I know I can’t say one thing and mean another or expect someone to read my mind, yet I still do it.

I don’t like the person that this is turning me into. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. It makes me feel like I’m falling, literally. I get goosebumps and chills and I can feel my body plummeting down as if I just jumped off a building. I feel exposed.

So fuck that. I deserve better. I want better and I’m done settling.