-
Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye My Friend
My therapist asked me last month when I wanted to come in again. She knew I didn’t need her as much, and I was happy to tell her 8 weeks instead of 4 - not only because it’ll same me funds, but because I really don’t need her as much! This will be the first month since January that I haven’t seen her (sometimes twice a month), and quite honestly, I feel very good about it. I simply don’t need her except for medication. If I hadn’t made friends - which sounds pitiful, but it’s freaking HARD when you don’t work!!! - I’d miss her, but really, I’m fine with this new arrangement. I’m going to see how long she’ll let me go without visiting.
I will probably be posting on my blog more regularly now because: A.) I have to get my thoughts out. You’ll notice how sporadic my posts were when I was seeing her 1-2 times per month; B.) I have a LOT going on right now and even more going on in the near future; and C.) I want to keep my writing skills (or lack thereof) keen and improving.
Because I tried to make this blog a learning experience for me and everyone who reads it, and my blog will now likely take the place of my therapist with whom I simply vent or give mundane details of my comparatively boring-ass life, I might make a new blog which I post to more often and more about those mundane details than epiphanies and insights. I’ve bought several journal apps for my iPad, but to be perfectly honest, I need an audience! Regardless of how many or how few of you there are now-a-days, you are all my 1 psychiatrist. You can choose to read thoroughly, skim, or simply skip - but the fact will always remain: I told you. In my mind, you’re all entirely enthralled, waiting for your next fix on the edge of your seats, reacting with giddy excitement when you see an unfamiliar post or a number in your RSS reader by the name of my blog. As long as I have imagination, I don’t want an iPad journal. However, I will probably be archiving this into the Internet eternity (or so long as Tumblr exists), and making a new one that my real-life friends can peruse. That means I can’t talk about them anymore! That also means, my dear e-friends, that you won’t have the privilege of partaking in my experiences. I share much too much personal info in a personal, aimless blog for strangers to see, as friendly as you might be.
This blog, and every blog I’ve had since around 2000, has been my little secret. A secret I share only with my invisible friends. It’s cathartic and liberating, but I need to know real people are really reading my revealing ramblings. (I’m in an alliteration mood.)
This post will probably be my first foray into my new blogging life. I’ll probably use Word Press and get my own domain. It won’t be Mandy’s Musings anymore because if I know you, and I do, you’ll find me. If you are seriously that interested in my dull life, and are that desperate, I’m sure you’ll find me out there somewhere.
(Listen to the following song for full dramatic affect.)
-
Dirty Girl (tee-hee!)
I don’t hate anyone, but sometimes I need to listen to music that reaches parts of myself that are never accessed - you know, to balance out all the goodness. This is one of my favorite songs to access the dirty, gritty, fuck you, hatefulness that is in all of us, but rarely expressed. It makes me want to snort some coke, screw some hot stranger like there’s no tomorrow, and give up on everything in my life…
Then it’s over, and that part of me recedes like the filthy bitch it is. (P.S. This song contains the n-word, which I vehemently oppose, but the “clean” version loses it’s appeal. I wish I could just get an n-less version.)
:)
-
"Even if our efforts of attention seem for years to be producing no result, one day a light that is in exact proportion to them will flood the soul."
Simone Weil
-
Magic Trackpad & other Updates
I just wanted to say that after getting used to it, the Magic Trackpad is fantastic!
As for the other issues I ranted about last time, I’m no longer friends with the big fat lying parasite around whom I had to bite my tongue. I knew the relationship was no good, but we had some good times, so I kept her until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. Unfortunately, that time came when I found out from one of her other friends that she has been lying to people about something I said.
I knew all along that she was drama, drama, drama - but for some reason I believed all of her stories. I should’ve known from the way in which she was a victim in all of her stories that she created the drama she was speaking of. For example: her daughter is a self-absorbed brat who lives in a fantasy land and like her mom, leeches off anyone willing to show her favor. Yet, it was never my friend’s fault. She did NOT raise her like that. She doesn’t know what happened!! Now I see just how alike they are.
When I mentioned that it was statistically more likely that low-income people are desperate and therefor more likely to be violent, she took umbrage and told her friend that I said “poor people are always violent.” Haha! Are you fucking kidding me? Now I KNOW that all of her stories were full of lies.
UGH it makes me so mad that I saw all the signs but let her use me anyway. I think it’s because I saw her heart, which is good, but there’s obviously something very wrong with her brain. I spent a lot of money and time to learn this lesson. I’ve earned my Drama-free Friend-detecting diploma from the School of Life.
You know, it’s kind of like women who stay in abusive relationships because he says he’s sorry and treats her nice sometimes. You want to believe in the good. Clint said I live with arms wide open. That’s true. I want to love everyone and for everyone to be my best friend. I’m so thankful that I have friends who are the same way. :)
-
bloody tongue
I’ve had to figuratively bite my tongue so many times today that it left me with pent up anger that I just wanted to unleash on anyone around. Poor Clint.
The first thing I didn’t really have to bite my tongue during, but I had to be somewhat polite about it. I got the new Apple magic track pad. It sucks. I hate it. A mouse is so much more efficient. Why the hell anyone would use this over a mouse is beyond me…but I’m having to use it because Clint bought it for me and there’s a 15% restocking fee.
A couple of girls at my gym were commenting on my new hair and saying how much they loved it. I gave them my stylist/friend’s card. The bleach-blonde, dark-root-showing, tacky tanned girl said she’s a cosmetologist so she does her own hair. Wow. She did that on purpose and she likes it that way!
Then I was swimming with a friend and she told me I offended her the other night when we were walking around her apartment complex at night and I said that I didn’t feel safe. She herself said the place is a dump. There are drug dealers living above her. I told her that I’m a bit of a classist because poorer people are more violent and desperate. So she was telling me what a nice house she used to have — they are two of my lowest income friends — blah blah blah. She said she’s not violent and her apartment complex is not that bad. Yet she’s told me before that she won’t let her teenage daughter go for walks by herself. She’s told me she’s worried there will be gun shots when her grandson is at home. She’s told me that not far from there, there was a murder in another apartment complex. Tonight as I was driving over there, there were five police cars in a complex a few down from hers. I told her that statistically speaking, it’s true. I told her if she goes to the news website there’s a crime map of incidents in areas and the most dots are in lower income areas. She said she’s glad she doesn’t live in a low income area. I couldn’t believe it. It took all my will power to get out of the pool and tell her to walk her can’t-afford-gas-ass home.
And my dearest friend. The one for whom I went to church for (that’s another blog entirely) posted on FB that she learned about Catholicism at church tonight, and it was “wow.” I’m curious how someone can believe in people walking on water and coming back from the dead but yet the crazy shit the Catholics believe is too far-fetched.
Bang. Bang. Bang. That’s my head on my new track pad. Now I’m left wondering why I even care what anyone thinks. That’s going to cost me and hour at my shrink next month. I have just been so irritated by people all day. Stupid people not living in reality. The mouse is more efficient. You look like white trash. You ARE white trash. And your religion is just as stupid as every other religion.
I hate that I dislike things about my friends so much that it causes me stress because all I want to do is love them. -
Free Therapy + Bigots
Pretend you’re looking at me. Do I have a flashing neon sign on my forehead that says I’m a therapist? It’s true that I do care about people’s problems - especially people I care about - but when people I barely know have an hour+ session with me (something I pay greatly for), I feel like it’s unfair. When I try to relate, “oh, I know what you mean because…” I’m interrupted so they can continue their rant about whatever their problems are.
Maybe people are just unhappy. I don’t mind listening, and if I WERE a therapist, I would be more helpful. But I’m not. And I know them. When they go on and on as if they’re purging every thought they’ve held inside for 20 years, and then I see them do something completely opposite of what they said, I’m no longer their psuedo-therapist, I’m their acquaintance who lost some respect for them.
Perhaps it has something to do with the amount of tact I have. A simple elegance that offends no one. Clint, myself, and a friend were talking the other day. He was saying how unsafe he felt in apartments he lived in when he was in New Orleans because there was a GAY bar across the street. He emphasized gay. He’s lacks sophistication. Knowing that my friend has a gay son, and seeing the look on her face, I tried to even it out by saying, “so drunk people would try to get in your apartment?” Drunk PEOPLE, not drunk GAY people. He said yes. I said it’s like that downtown at an apartment complex that sits across from a bar.
I, of course, mentioned it to him later. He said he didn’t mean it like that. He used the old “I have a gay sister” rhetoric which is akin to “I’m not racist because I have black friends”, and I said it doesn’t matter. There was no reason to mention gay, and certainly no reason to emphasize it. It made him sound like a bigot. He didn’t get it. He saw nothing wrong with it. I did. I saw something wrong with it in her face when he said it.
I can’t stand to be around people who lack sophistication. Not people who reflect on my character as well as their own. He’s a blemish on my humanity.
-
A Lost Part of Me
Most of the time I do all right. I am sad, but I don’t cry. Then there are days when I miss him so much I just want to lock myself in my bedroom and scream and cry into my pillow. It has been around eight months since Cupid died, and not a day has gone by during which I didn’t think of him.
I can’t bring myself to look at pictures of him. They’re like flashing neon signs showing me what I no longer have; they remind me how amazing he was - not that I ever forget - and make me miss him so much I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at them, but I want to keep them. I took so many pictures of him.
When people ask me about my cats, I feel guilty leaving Cupid out, but it’s morbid to say, “and I had another one, but he died last December.” No one wants to hear that. But my heart is in a vice grip every time I have to exclude my precious Cupid. He was such an enormous part of my life for his entire 6 years and a few months during gestation. I’ve loved him with every cell in my body and now I have to leave someone who was the most precious thing in my life out of idle conversation.
My psychiatrist said that it’s the same as losing a child. Not everyone gets as attached to their pets, but for those who do, it is no different. I know that a lot of people - most people - won’t understand that. He was “just a cat.” People often referred to Cupid as my child, and it always annoyed me, for he was so much more. I chose to incorporate him into my life. I picked him. I knew from the moment I fell in love with him as he sat in my hands the first time I visited him, that he was always going to me than “just a cat” in our home.
He brought us both so much joy over the years. He and I had a mutual love for each other that cats less spoiled and loved and their humans never get to experience. Maybe it was because I got him early and became his surrogate mother. Maybe it was because I held him all the time, let him sleep in my lap, let him sleep in my shirt, and didn’t leave him alone for his first two weeks in my house. It was a little - no, a lot - like bringing home your first baby. Yet so much better.
I would give everything I have to have Cupid back. I’d sell my soul to the Devil if there were one. I’d do any number of illegal and morally corrupt things. It’d be my first wish if I were to encounter a genie. It’s a loss that will never go away; a desire that can’t ever be satisfied, and an ache always in my soul.
I love him so much. -
Balance
I’ve been annoyed lately but I’m trying very hard not to be passive-aggressive, and I’m very non-confrontational (unless you really piss me off) so I wanted to make a list of 10 things that annoy me. This will be therapeutic! But, I couldn’t just leave it at that because it’s uncharacteristically negative, so I’m also adding 10 things that I love.
Things that annoy me:
1.) People who let their children scream, run around, or otherwise misbehave. I was in a department store the other day and this woman let her daughter go into the dressing rooms and scream at the top of her lungs. I was so agitated that I loudly said, “I can’t even think with all this screaming!”
2.) People who drive too slow, and people who drive too closely. I will happily see an invisible person crossing the road and slam on my breaks, jerk. Didn’t you learn in Driver’s Ed that you must stay three car lengths away from the car in front of you? Or is it two? I do two. As for those who drive too slowly, I’m not going to pass you, speed, and then get in front of your ass because at some point, I will be dangerously too close to someone else. It’s a never ending loop.
3.) Hypocrites. No annoyance list would be complete without this one. It is my ultimate annoyance - especially when it comes to complaining about complainers, or gossiping about gossips, or being passive-aggressive toward someone who was passive-aggressive toward you.
4.) People who stay in relationships “for the children,” or worse: because they think that because a piece of paper certifies that they are married, they must remain married. People who are unhappy in their current relationships but don’t have the balls to leave their bitch or a wife/husband make me want to scream. I get hit on all the time by married men. Like I would ever be interested in someone that sleazy and/or ball-less. I mean - I’ve met otherwise classy men who happen to be married, but it just pisses me off.
5.) People who take their children to the gym to sit and be bored. I feel so sorry for them. Babysitter?
6.) People who let their cats or dogs roam free outside…among other things, but that’s a very long list.
7.) My family members who live only half an hour away from my dad but only go see him when they want something. I kind of hate you, and I hope dad leaves everything to me, you assholes.
8.) The fact that they don’t have any really good water that comes delivered to your door. I only drink vapor distilled water. Hello, Culligan? Hop on the bandwagon, fools. It’s your fault I use so many plastic bottles.
9.) Jealous people.
10.) People who accidentally have children and/or procreate without entirely thinking the situation through. UGH.
Things that make me happy:
1.) Being able to buy things I want, when I want them. Latest gadgets and electronics, etc. Being able to buy the healthiest groceries at the health food store.
2.) Having two healthy cats - finally, as Purrl has been through a lot since I adopted her.
3.) Having somoene who is my best friend and loves me unconditionally, from whom we keep no secrets, to whom I can say anything I want.
4.) The feeling of aching muscles. I love it. I love it when I push myself to the ultimate limit and I feel it the next morning - especially in my core.
5.) Worry-free days where the most I have to do is laundry (which is every day).
6.) The rental car we have, which I’ve decided I want.
7.) Feeling confident enough to tell people how I feel about them. I tell people at the gym that I can see their muscles or that they’ve lost fat; I tell people at the vet clinic that they do a great job. The feeling that exudes from them afterward is like a drug.
8.) Pharmaceuticals.
9.) Smiling at a stranger and seeing that stranger smile back.
10.) Life. -
My daddy is the strongest, most responsible, hardest working, and most patient person I’ve ever known. Thanks for loving your family above all else.
-
Potentially Deleted Tomorrow
I used to be inspired by my potential. Now I feel smothered by it. If I were to be a Psychiatrist as I had originally intended, would I be happy? If I were to go back to school and just get an associate’s degree in veterinary medicine, would I be satisfied? Would I feel I’m up to my own standards? I mean - I expect others to be educated and employed in some sort of lucrative career, but I’m not. I don’t want to be. I do…but I don’t. I’m embarrassed when surrounded by professionals and have to admit that I’m a…nothing. Me? Oh, I’m in the nothing business. No, I don’t have kids. No, I’m not a housewife. I know I have the potential to best them all, but “Potentially Better Than You” doesn’t make a good title on a business card.
Honestly, I’ve never wanted to work. I’ve always wanted a rich husband. Does that make me a hypocrite? Does that make me a victim of fairytales, immature, lazy, or spoiled? Does it make me stupid? Because those are all the things I feel when I admit to myself that all I want to do with my potential is be someone’s wife. The only thing I want to use my brain for is to pick a suitable mate. The perfect mate. And the funny thing is - I don’t even believe in the institution of marriage.
Options. Another word for potential. I might as well say it since nothing past this point will make much sense if I don’t. Clint and I are on rocky ground. We’ve been on and off since I was 19, but this is different. This is life-changing. When I told him my thoughts on the matter, he became depressed. I’ve never seen Clint depressed. I told him that before I made any decisions, we would try couple’s counseling. He felt better. He said that if I ever left him, he’d want to have his testicles removed so that he could never love someone as much as he loves me. At least we have one thing in common: we known where love comes from.
So what if I do leave Clint? I’ll have to work. He has promised to always support me financially, but not only would it still change my lifestyle, but it would be incredibly insensitive on my part to make him re-live “us” every time he made a deposit into my bank account. What if I fall in “love” with someone who isn’t rich? I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan to ever fall out of love, and even if I had, it’d be a futile attempt to plan for something which to someone in love is as likely to happen as Armageddon.
I’ve been reminiscing about old friends and lovers. Stalking them online to see how their lives turned out. I saw a picture of my first love. He’s an assistant principal at an elementary school. He was always good with kids. He married one of my best high school friend’s cousin. She’s a teacher. They have a son. They’re a cute little family. He’s as gorgeous and sexy as ever…and now a very bittersweet frequent visitor in my dreams.
Thanks to Facebook, I know that my best high school friend is very happy. I know we’d have very little in common if we were to reconnect - if I were to somehow unburn that bridge. I used to burn bridges a lot. My past is an entirely separate part of me. It used to a part I thought of on extremely rare occasions, but lately it’s all I can think about because in a way, my past could become my future.
There are plenty of “what could have been’s.” Two people I’ve loved, employment opportunities I’ve passed up to be funemployed… Yet more than what could have been’s, I’m thinking of what could possibly be’s. Options. Potential. I’m a blank slate. When I was younger, I used to always have one or two people on the back burner. Some poor guy(s) I’d flirt with just enough to keep interested while staying as platonic as possible while keeping them pining for me. I was awful. But…a net would be kind of nice right now as I’m free-falling into the unknown. I’m vulnerable. And I don’t fucking like it. Isn’t Batman going to swoop in and catch me? Isn’t Prince Charming going to ride in on his white horse and carry me off? Aren’t I going to be a prostitute and make Richard Gere fall in love with me? WHERE IS MOTHERFUCKING HAPPY ENDING?! You know, fairytales never really have an ending, do they? Lives don’t end when they ride off into the sunset - they just begin.
So, where’s my god damned beginning?
