PART 1:(also edited from an email I sent to my half-sister)

Wow.  Kim and I talked at Chili’s downtown for about three hours, I ate maybe three bites we were talking so much and I was so stunned that it was actually happening.  Things with Joy had been worse than I knew.  It was terrible. Though I can hardly believe (partly out of shock and partly because I’m still wary) that those horrible times are over yet, I am happy that things between Kim and I are so much better.  When she broke up with me, she said that she wanted to stay very close friends.  And then Joy’s emotional control ran amuck.  Now that it appears that Joy is being erased, I can actually start believing those words.  I have sincerely missed Kim’s friendship even though I gave up that it could ever happen,; I’m in fearful but hopeful shock that I might actually have one of my best friends back. 

I’m still hopeful and stunned.  We both really enjoyed finally spending time together as friends and working on shedding the shadow of the past five months.  I’m looking forward to getting together again as well as being 100% clean of Joy – meaning then I can actually, completely accept that the Kim I knew has returned from the pits of hell.


EDIT aka PART 2:

I just went through all the boxes and bags of my stuff from when I was moved out of the apartment.  Man I have a lot of stuff!  Thank you, Kim, for having packed it! 

But of course, going through all my things brought back a lot of memories.  And a lot of hurt and sorrow.  I had a great love, a wonderful home, a kitty, all that.  True, many habits did need to be broken and a breakup was probably the best way to end those. I know that I have ended most of the ones Kim listed – I speak up, I have a job, I’m taking care of myself, I have come to respect that others’ paths (even a girlfriend’s) probably won’t always align with mine and I should just support them in their own endeavors.  At least now I can get back to working on the genuine pain that comes with a hard breakup without the additional, more hostile sting that Joy has conjured.  It just hurts to be reminded of all that I had and lost.  I am still extremely proud of how I have handled everything, but I’m not completely finished recovering.

I’m so glad that I’m sleeping with Fluffy tonight.  With all these bittersweet flashbacks, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep alone.


(copied, pasted, and edited from an email I sent my half-sisters)

While checking up with a few friends on facebook, some comments exchanged between Kim and an old friend of hers were up on the newsreel stalker thing. As always whenever Kim was brought up, anger rose in my stomach. I even removed her friend from my friends list. I saw that Kim and Joy The Anal Wart had broken up, but only Kim’s “single” status implied that since there were still pictures of them together and plenty of comments left by The Anal Wart. Anyway, I asked myself, “Why am I getting so mad? I need to let this go, all she’s doing is commenting to a friend.” While remembering her unhappiness with the semi-abusive Joy, I let go of my anger towards Kim. I text messaged her to see how she was doing. We got into a long texting conversation in which she apologized for everything that has been going on for the past many months. Joy is controlling, manipulative, and bascially emotionally abusive. Kim lost herself by letting Joy take advantage of her over and over again. Kim’s admittance of this and her appreciation for who I am has helped me let go of so much she has done. She’s trying to cut The Anal Wart out of her life and, since she listens now, I am willing to help out. I am still very angry at Joy for not only having hurt me, but also for having hurt Kim. I want to stab Joy with a flaming chainsaw covered with syphilis.

Now, Kim and I sincerely working on friendship. She’s answering my questions and explaining what has been going on, something she had utterly refused to do while with Joy. I have always known that Kim is not a liar, she does not lie – but it is still difficult for me to believe that she’s sending Joy packing and that she genuinely wants to hang out with me. Words now can’t change the actions of the past five months. Also, Joy is still second on Kim’s friends list while I’m #12 (OMG WTF??1!! <3). Kim did delete a lot of pictures of herself with Joy, which is promising. By no means do I want pictures of us back up nor do I want to be elevated above Joy – well maybe I do a little bit since she’s such an Anal Wart – , I just need more proof over a period of time in order to fully believe that she’s detatching from Joy.

I miss how everything was until February. I can’t really say that I miss separate little things since they were all connected. But I miss even more how valuable those memories were. Because the things Kim said and did with me were so quickly shared with someone she barely knew, those things have lost a lot of their value. The memories are tarnished because someone else got the same memories only a month later and then she used those to hurt Kim.

I feel so much better by having released all this anger. The hurt is still there and it has left me very alert, but a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m still irked by a few small things, but they’re being worked on. One of the reasons why she dumped me was becauses I kept things like that inside in order to keep her happy and things peaceful – I don’t do that with my friends anymore and I haven’t done that with the three girls I’ve dated (or something close to dated) since. By talking about those things and by releasing that anger, things are brighter.

Not in any particular order:

1) Most of the people with whom I work.  David, Dan, Rosy, Mike, Andrew.  Awesome people who actually work most of the time!  I don’t mind pretty much everyone else, but I want to hang out with these ppl more.


3) Work itself.  I need a productive, arbitrary, regular job.  This is it!  And it helps that it’s relatively clean, good hours, diverse, etc.

4) Cheap food!  70% discount while on duty!

5) All the hot girls who come in!  I’ve caught a handful checking me out and most of the people listed in #1 have said that they’ve seen others checking me out.  Whether that’s true or not, working at Noodles & Company is definitely easy on the eyes!  Unlike Mike, though, I won’t hit on a girl while I’m at work.  Not just because I’m taking a break, not just because that’s cheesey, but also because . . . I’M AT WORK!!

But aside from these 5 great things about work . . . I’m rather lonely.  I still wonder sometimes if it would really negatively effect anyone if I would die (besides my loan cosigners inheriting my debt) . . .  I mean I can easily imagine this: everyone would be really surprised and sad for a couple weeks, then they would realize, “Hey, what the hell?  She wasn’t that great.  *Moves on*.”

65 on the 18th; I wanted my Fathers’ Day post to sit a while longer
before making a Paul birthday entry.

Today at work, all my coworkers but one were GREAT today but a lot
of customers were rather irksome.  Two women (early 30’s) were very
frightened by a dragonfly sitting on the window sill nearby; they were
utterly awed by my nonchalant removal of it (I put it in a cup and let
it free) and giggled at their own fear . . . dudes, your helplessness
might make your husbands feel more manly but it just makes me pity you
and worry for womankind.  And other people said that they ordered stuff
they didn’t and there were large groups of young corporate men who were
all, “Hurrr, so-and-so isn’t here, he’s so gay!”  And then I was pretty
much stood up by this girl who had been very interested in me for a few
weeks and promised to set up plans to get together with me again (all
my propositions were untimely, apparently).

About a week ago I bought Paul’s new solo album, Memory Almost
Full.  I’ve been working on absorbing it and I put it on my mp3 player,
Iago.  During my walk back to the dorms from work (20 mins), I played
his song “Mr. Bellamy” about five times over and over and over and over
and over again.  The lyrics, melody, tempo, etc. pretty much sum up
where I am ESPECIALLY since I’m pretty much taking a break from dating:

Me: I’m not coming down
No matter what you do
I like it up here without you

Them: Go light, Mr. Bellamy
We’ll have you down soon

Me: No one to tell me what to do
No one to hold my hand
Bellamy’s got a lot to do
And I hope that you’ll understand

Nobody here to spoil the view
Interfere with my plans
Bellamy’s got a job to do
And he’s hoping you’ll understand

Them: Steady, Lads
and Easy Does It
Ooooh, don’t frighten him!
Here we go…

Me: I’m not coming down
No matter what say
I like it up here anyway

Them: Sit tight, Mr. Bellamy
This shouldn’t take long

In the delusionary state
No wonder he’s been feeling strange of late
In the delusionary state
No wonder he’s been feeling strange of late

Me: Nobody here to spoil the view
Interfere with my plans
Bellamy’s got a job to do
And he’s hoping you’ll understand

Them: Steady, Lads
and Easy Does It
Don’t frighten him!
Here we go…
Here we go…

Me: I’m not coming down
No matter what you
I like it up here without you

I’m not going to be brought down by people who emphasize the
negative.  The irritations of ignorant customers and datey n00bs are so
puny.  I’m not going to waste my time and energy moping about these
people when I could be enjoying time with my friends, family, and
SELF.  And it definitely helps to know that, seemingly, a Beatle has
been in the same situation.

(lol I ❤ you Paul)

I’ve been having rather interesting dreams every night for about the
past week.  All of them involve walking around inside a large,
fascinating, diverse museum – sometimes with amusement park rides.  I
am 100% certain that this represents how I’m viewing my life and the
world around me: a paraphenalia of interesting things that I can choose
to either investigate, note in passing, or ignore. 

So, it’s Fathers’ Day . . .

I wouldn’t have even realized it if the cashiers at work yesterday hadn’t grinned, “Happy Fathers’ Day!” to all the older men who waddled in.

That definitely unpleasanted the early part of my day.  If I had found out days later, as I had hoped/planned, I would have been all, “Haha, less money for me to have to spend!”  But instead the memory of my high school’s annual Daddy-Daughter Dance flashed up with a vengeance.

You’ve probably read my rant about this before and you probably will again.  Too bad!

Every year, when the young trees throughout campus had pure white blossoms and the yuppies donned their Birkenstocks anew, there was an announcement for the Daddy-Daughter Dance during the homeroom announcements.  Because of spring fever and the return of certain sports, everyone had forgotten that this event existed.  With a gasp, most of the Abercrombie-clad young women squeamed in their rickety desks.  They twirled their highlighted ponytails and whined, “Ugh, I don’t want Daddy to take me to the dance!  He’ll buy me such an ugly dress from Marshall Fields and call me ‘Princess’ the entire time!  How embarassing!”  Every year, their wails received no sympathy nor support.  A few jocks catcalled, Mr. Conformity teased them, but they were largely ignored.  My either junior or senior year, though, one of our peers – who transcended social boundaries – pointed out that there were those among us who had no fathers or who had abusive fathers.  After a moment of silence, the complaints prevailed for the rest of homeroom.

. . .


I would far rather have no father than Voldemort, despite the few good memories I have.  These young women have NO right to complain.  Their fathers would bring them the very rings of Saturn to please them.  I was most definitely not the only one in that homeroom with a less-than-pleasant paternal situation; none of us spoke up either because we didn’t want to speak of these situations or because a few moments of being correct wouldn’t be worth the weeks of social ostracization.

Am I still pissed about this?  Obviously!  But I’m pissed only one or two days out of the year.

Ok so no more looking around for a while.  I’ve got . . . I’ll say three . . . girls I’m . . . inspecting.  If someone else comes up to me, great.  Let the investigation process begin so I can get to the elimination!  I should just make a reality show about all this . . .  Of course, life would turn out this way: girls suddenly notice my pimptasticness when I seriously start thinking about taking a break.

ANYWAY!!!  Now with that awkwardness aside!  My wonderful half-sister mailed me a great Paul McCartney article and I just bought his newest solo album, “Memory Almost Full” from Starbucks (BUY IT YOU HOBOS) and I’m listening to the Beatles while working the dorm’s front desk.  All that adds up to a Beatle-rific blog entry:

ehehehehe nice pants, John:

I absolutely love the story behind the Sgt. Pepper facial hair look: Paul was hanging out with a bunch of friends (musician friends but I don’t remember who) who had just bought some new motorcycles/mopeds/Vespas.  They all went for a ride and Paul fell flat on his face.  He wasn’t hurt except for a few bruises and a cut on his upper lip.  He was told to grow a moustache to cover up the scar + stitches.  And, of course, all of them had to grow moustaches in order to keep the consistency of the Beatles look. 




*keels over and dies from laughter*

I’m laughing because I had never thought that three people would be openly into me in less than four hours EVER!!  During Spring Break, I stayed with my friend Mark; he told me that his life has always gone so well and he was worried that there was some great imbalance in the universe.  I reassured him that the universe is indeed balanced because so many things have gone crappily in my life.  Tonight, I’m worried that he is falling into the pits of hell so that the universe may redeem its balance.

So Pridefest was awesome.  Met people, which is what I really have been wanting to do for months. I ❤ YOU BECKY!!  I had honestly never thought that two girls would be openly into me in one night (hell, I never thought such a thing would happen in a month, but here I am with 5 now! . . . but one doesn’t count because she’s old and creepy and the other doesn’t count because she needs to take time alone for herself).  And then this creepy guy on the bus told me that I have beautiful eyes and that he wanted to take me out to coffee.  Thanks but . . . no . . . you’re creepy . . . and a guy.  Why is all this happening in one night??  And then my trip to Chicago the other day??  People, why have you not been spacing yourself out over the past 7 years???????

So I’m pretty sure now that there are more people checking me out than I have been thinking.  I should carry a sign with me everywhere I go; the front should state, “If you are interested, TALK TO ME!” and the back should state, “I don’t bite . . . unless you want me to.”  Wheee confidence!  I usually am ok meeting girls as long as I have a conversation starter – THAT is the difficult part.  So I ❤ YOU AGAIN BECKY!!

So my third Pridefest and the first one I attended alone KICKED ASS!  And, of course, I shopped a ton as usual.  I didn’t spend nearly as much as I have other years, though.  I bought a brown + black + white sarong, a bumper sticker that says, “We are spiritual beings having a physical experience,” a button that declares, “NO WAR,” and another button that says, “Another dopeless hope fiend.”  And I bought a kickass hat from the Dykes In The City organization.