A little more...
02-25-06 | 12:31

I ended that last entry abruptly because I have so much to tell, so much to write and explain that it overwhelmed me and I got mad. In this entry (second one from the top) I explained how PB and I ended up living together. And as I mentioned before it all boils down to one sentence – I want a man and not a boy – PB and I are not breaking up. I do not want him out of my life right now, just out of my apartment. Lately we have been having many discussions, and one of them PB told me how sad he was about this situation – sad because he wants me to feel about him the way he feels about me. “What way is that?” I asked, “Tell me.” He told me that I give him stability and in my head I thought – well, you’re damn straight I make you feel stable you live in the lap of luxury and you’ve been getting a free ride for over a year now! – But instead I told him that perhaps one of the reasons that I need my own physical space right now is so I can feel that way about you as well. It is true. I need to see that he can do his own laundry, wash his own dishes and wake the fuck up on time. The boy doesn’t even own plates, or towels or a bed, or linens. And he wants me to spend the rest of my life with him?
I’ve been making a mental list of what I am going to do when he moves out – which is looking like May – I plan to order a new garbage can, dish rack, and toilet brush from Williams Sonoma, I also plan to order new sheets and a new feather bed. When he is gone I will have space in my closet for my nightgowns and suits, and my shoes.
I plan on getting a puppy – did I mention that? This puppy will ease my transition when he moves out. I need him to leave so I can live in this beautiful apartment the way I dreamed of when I first saw the space. I feel like the past year has been stolen from me. Every day I see his granola on the floor, and every day I see stains on the counter from god knows what. I long to be alone again.
Another initial reason he wanted to move in with me was to spend more time together, and now I think that moving out would cause us to spend more time together, social and being outside. Because as things are right now we do nothing but watch The Sopranos together. We haven’t slept together in ages. Let alone made out with each other.
And as I think about this relationship I realize all of the shit (literally – for the long time readers you may know what I am referring to) I’ve put up with to be in this relationship – it has been way more work that I ever expected. My therapist told me that I put up with it all because I needed PB in my life at that time. He played a very vital role and helped me get to where I am now. And now? I am here I guess, and I have grown and gotten older and I see that I need someone with more sophistication.
The first night I met PB, after our ‘date’ he left me on Houston and Bedford at eleven o’clock at night with out so much a kiss on the check, an “it was nice meeting you” or an offer to walk me home, or to even put me in a taxi. I was so appalled, perhaps I should have known then.
He quits his job, rents out a studio he cannot afford, buys expensive computer things. Then realizes that he cannot peruse photography right away and applies to school for the fall. Loses the studio, needs to borrow money, finally gets it in his head that he must apply for a ‘real’ job (real being one that offers health insurance and steady pay) and then starts thinking about a fucking business plan that he would need hundreds of thousands of dollars and multiple investors to actually make happen. FOCUS PB! He is jumping way ahead of himself, finally, finally – last night he posted his resume on Monster.

1 comments so far

Too much
02-25-06 | 11:11

I don't know where to start. It all collided during the snowstorm. During my photo entry. I was just so lonely that night, that the situation finally dawned on me. Drunk off champagne in between his huge fucking G5 desktop and underwood typewriter my fifteen inch apple had no where to go. No desk space - his stuff is covering it all. I think I just became tired with the constant shit. One of the main reasons he moved in was to save money by not paying rent in order to quit his boring day job and peruse photography and still have money in the bank. But him being immature and having to do everything the hard way did not go about it like that.
He quit his job, and rented out a studio for the same price per month that he was paying to live on his own. That bothered me so much, and I just swallowed it down and forgot. That lonely, snowy Saturday night made it all come up again. S paying almost a thousand dollars in rent with no income, guess who had to pay for everything else? His laundry, his food, his toiletries, entertainment (i.e. the movies) - EVERYTHING. And I so resented this. Now he has to give up the studio, but not before he needs to 'borrow' nine hundred dollars for the last rent payment. Oh wait! I am forgetting, during this he bought a fucking G5 desktop computer! On credit! WHAT THE FUCK???!!! He is renting out a studio, and buying top of the line computer stuff and an expensive photo printer as well, and I am picking up his boxers? Not to mention MY apartment is filled with his shit. And now that he must leave the studio there is even more shit lying around. I just lost the patience. I want my apartment back. I don't want to have to re-clean dishes because he didn't clean the properly (how can you not wash a dish properly - he always leaves something on it), and have my belongings squished in the closet because his fucking fencing gear MUST be in the closet. I am tired of having to put water on to boil to wake him up in the morning and tired of him then drinking my coffee. He now has zero dollars and borrowed three bucks from me the other night to buy ice cream. and he tells me that I am spoiled?
He smells like all the time, he doesn't brush his teeth in the morning and he farts constantly. He fucking caused a fire the other day, and I can't even finish this entry because I am just so fustrated and angry, and everything is just pouring out of me and I need to clam down becuase this doesn't have an order - I cannot control this.

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02-24-06 | 22:01

Oh man,
Sorry darling. I am here.
I told PB that I want him to move out. If he gets a job this month - this month being March - he will be out by May. Until then I will just keep slipping. It is whatever I can do to not be in the apartment with this fire setting (yes, he actually caused a fire whilst making morning coffee - at one o'clock in the bloody afternoon), farting, dirty, smelly, lazy boy. Which is why I haven;t updated.
My home is no longer my own. I am counting the seconds until he moves out.

1 comments so far

Best out of Twenty Six
02-11-06 | 22:36

OK, so here I am on a snowy Saturday night. Drinking '98 Vevue all alone. I am positively drunk right now. PB has a new G5 desktop - complete with Photo Booth. There is a camera built right into the computer screen, you turn on Photo Booth and - look you're very own photo booth for free! Well not free for about two thousand dollars but hey look what fun I

That was the best one out of like 26

Some more? And more. Another one! Cheers! actually, it is snowing outside and it is really coming down heavy. It is so romantic and I am so lonely. How pathetic am I? A lonely girl and her Mac, on a Saturday night. What would I want to be doing? Having dinner with someone, going out with friends? Not being alone. I quit school (again) PB lost his studio, he has no money and I am going broke supporting him He is invading my space by having to move all his fucking shit back in here, in MY apartment in MY closet. I just want things back to normal! I just want a boyfriend who fucking take a shower every day, who remembers to brush his teeth in the morning, who fuck has health insurance, who fucking can wake up before ten in the morning without constant prodding, who can pay his own god damn taxes on time, a boyfriend who is a man, not a boy.

4 comments so far

It ain't pretty
02-09-06 | 19:19

I am not abandoning this journal, I fell into a deep depression that I am just now dragging myself out of. Generally, however, things are OK
On Sunday PB and I went to my folks apartment to keep my father company during the Stoopid Bowl, and I had the impeccably wonderful idea of taking out all my elementary school books and art projects. PB and I were having a grand ol’ time reading my book report on Amelia Earhart when I stumbled upon a book that I didn’t recall seeing. It was a ‘my baby story’ book, when you have a baby and you want a book to write down the tale of the birth and list all of the gifts and illness’ etc so the baby can read it when he/she gets older. I happened to open the book on the ‘hospital visit/illness’ page and there it was staring me right in the face:

I was born 11/1/81. This all happened to me between one week and two months of age. Of course I knew all of this, I mean I have scars up and down the center of my chest but to see it written out, boom, boom, boom – dates, dates, dates – well it just really weighed heavy on me.

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Black & White
01-22-06 | 19:22

So we have been having major problems. And now I am here, crying, tired and alone. Where is he? In his studio taking pictures of God knows whom since two o’clock this afternoon. It is now seven. I’ve spent little to no time with him in the past two weeks. The time we have spent together we’ve been fighting. Why can’t he just call me and tell me that he is done with his photos because he wants to come home and make love to me. We haven’t had sex in three weeks. I’ve just been waiting for him to initiate any physical contact other than the obligatory peck on the lips hello. At this sentence I started crying, full crying, not just tears streaming down my face.
When he called earlier I was on my way home after returning a video we’d rented. I was so happy to hear his voice and I thought he’d came home and called me because I wasn’t there. But then he told me that he is still taking photos and wasn’t finished, but he’ll finish by nine, he thinks. After I got off the phone with him I wanted to cry. I wanted to sit down on a stoop and cry. I found my way into a bookshop and browsed around whilst fighting back tears all the while I was the only customer in the shop and all the book titles were blurry and Ella Fitzgerald was singing on the radio and it was making me so sad. Just then the shopkeeper told me that the store was closing and that made me feel more alone. I ended up purchasing a blank card with roses painted on it because I felt I needed to get something, if not to remember how sad I feel now than to make up for holding the shopkeeper from home on a Sunday night. After almost being hit by a car while crossing Seventh Avenue because I was in such a sad state I trudged up the stairs and walked through my door. My coat fell off of me between the door and the closet and now I sit here typing.

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Going to Bed Now
01-20-06 | 22:39

Fud. That is how I feel, if you can imagine. So I'll write about some things.
I am happy about my class. It is a required math class, remedial for college students but I am remedial in math - so hey, it works! My professor is a nice older lady, I would say late fifties to early sixties. She has a background as a counselor for 'learning anxieties' so she is sympathetic to the shy, or nervous student. She would never demand participation, but she will ask. The class is held in the midtown location, on 42nd Street. The building is beautiful. It goes through the block to 43rd Street and has high arched entries similar to the W square arch. The lobby has a black marble floor and to the left are hallways of elevators with red velvet ropes closing much of the entry space off and standing guards to allow entrance. Which is nice that the building itself is open to the public, you can enter on 42 and leave 43 freely, I like my building shortcuts here in the city. I only know what the tenth floor looks like and it is pretty fantastic for what I have seen in other 'campus' classroom buildings. It is very open and airy with active reception and school displays and logos visible, but not in your face. My classroom is by far the nicest of any classroom I have ever had a class in. It has a long and wide window that overlooks Bryant Park, looking South to the park, and from my seat, wedged in the corner, I can see a chunk of sky not obstructed by any building and I get to see the sun go down. It will be so awesome to see how the light changes week to week as the season slowly changes and winter melts into Spring.
Not much to report there. To be honest I ebb and flow with my feelings and at times I think: It is hormonal related? Because I get like this, this utter detachment feeling, for about a week or so (never more than two) every three months. What the fuck is up with that?

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01-19-06 | 21:55

Haven't felt much like updating. I have been very tired this week. I've developed a pudgy in my lower belly. I am guessing it is the vegan food. So Starting now again - I'll be writing down what I consume in my moleskin graphed notebook. I am now back to this.
Sorry for the short sucky entry.

1 comments so far

01-16-06 | 18:47

I had a yoga session today. It was wonderful to have a one-on-one instructor to direct you on the proper form and to remind you to focus on your breathing. I loved it!
In the interest of full disclosure I will announce one thing that I am happy about: I had my hair straightened on Saturday. Thermal conditioning. This is the third time I've had this processes, and no it does not damage my hair, but then again I do not have color in my hair so I think if you color your hair having this treatment would be a bad idea. My hair is so soft and shiny and smooth. I was at the gym and I sweat (like you do) a lot and my hair was not in little frizz tufts and I had no knots. In fact my hair is still just as straight! I wake up in the morning and I have no need to fix my hair - it is already perfect. This shaves thirty minutes off of my morning. It is so nice, and I feel more confident with this hair. I hated having to 'do' my hair every day.
I also bought a spring handbag today. My mother had some store credit and so with that credit I bought a nice camel color Bottega handbag. PB came with me and my mom met us at the shop. PB likes the 'sportier' styles whereas I prefer more classic items. There is nothing worse than having an accessory that looks dated in two years. I would rather go for something more 'boring' and simple than a jangley bag with tons of hardware, although on some women jangely bags look terrific. Not on moi.
So now it is seven o'clock and I am waiting for PB to arrive home.
I have nothing interesting to report. I haven't updated myself on my favorite reads, so I cannot even comment. Aside from my hair treatment my weekend was bland and dull. PB and I ate burritos and watched Star Wars yesterday.
I am working on finishing my book If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, I have less than a hundred pages and I wish to start on Small g - my next book.
School starts on Wednesday, who is pretending that is doesn't?

3 comments so far

01-15-06 | 10:03

I am not sure what to write. PB has fallen into a deep depression. It happened on Friday. It happened, like a car crash, or an event. Like depression can 'happen'. Anyway, school starts on Wednesday and I am still lazy and terrible. I wanted to write about my heart condition, because a segment on a NPR radio show I listen to was about Anesthesia, 'please explain' how anesthesia works. I learnt about its earliest uses, and got an update on new advancements, anyway - one of the doctors mentioned that anesthesia was not used on infants until very recently because doctors did not think that infants felt pain. This is not the case and lack on an anesthetic on infant during surgery can cause profound differences in pain perception throughout its life. This doctor also worked in Boston Children's Hospital, and that was where I had my surgery. Two months of age, open heart surgery. Regardless of whether I was placed under general anesthetic the surgery itself has had a profound impact on my life, and I am not going anywhere with this paragraph... So PB is sad and I am stressed out about his situation. I do not know how to handle someone else's depression, especially when it does not directly concern me. The weather is gloomy and this entry is boring.

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