Saturday, December 31, 2011

Baby, We're Bent Not Broken

I'm almost thirty minutes into the New Year. 2012.

I didn't think I'd make it this far.

I'm sitting in my best friend's apartment, The Boondock Saints on the television. I've been crying for ten minutes, at least.

Croc is coming back. This is a horrible idea for everyone involved, me, She Who Must Be Kept, Croc. He started to drive up here two days ago. SWMBK didn't tell me because she didn't want to upset me.

Oops. That worked well, huh?

When this was originally mentioned, he was supposed to stay two weeks. Now it will be longer than two weeks, but "hopefully" not longer than a month.

I told SWMBK that I am leaving.I cannot take living with him. I cannot. I don't have this kind of energy. I don't have it in me. I... I don't know what to do anymore.

Bubby and his fiancee had said I can live with them and pay a small rent fee. It is temporary. SWMBK promised. And she's paying my rent because she didn't think it was fair that she's bringing someone into my home that makes me so miserable. Miserable enough for me to leave.

"You don't have to go. I don't want you to go. Please try. Please try to live with him."

"Mom, every word out of his mouth is something negative and I don't need that."

"No no, I made him promise this time he'd be still!" You have to get him to promise to shut up. Yeah, he should sooo move in.

"No, that's not good enough. He has sooo many ideas about what I should do around the house, you know, in my abundance of free time because I don't work and go to school. But he never does anything. I'm fucking tired of coming home from standing on my feet for five hours, or sometimes for ten hours, and having him lay around on our couch. Why the hell is he so tired? What did he do all day?"

That was, of course, really unfair for me to say. Anyone can sleep whenever they want, really. Maybe he was tired because he is chronically ill. I don't know.

"I know, but it won't be like that this time."

"Yes, it will. He has problems everywhere he lives and he's sure it isn't him. Well, he's the common denominator! And it's all waaaah, my life is sad. Well, fuck, he needs to fix it and I don't want to hear about it."

"I just want you to try!"

"I tried it for six months."

"I knew you'd leave. I knew you were going to leave."

"Then why are you so surprised?"

"I just feel like you're abandoning me."

I don't want to leave. I don't. I want to stay there. My cats are there. My beloved BED is there. My sewing machine. My books. My mother. Everything. I want to stay there.

(How can I be leaving my cats? I am the worst Mommy ever.)

"I'm sorry. I'll pay the rent. I'm sorry. I'm the reason you're leaving."

The thing is, she SHOULD be able to have people move in if she wants. I'm the one with the problem. I should leave, I shouldn't make her change her life to suit me. We're both adults.

It's just...

I wanted her to pick me.

Just this one time.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Things I Don't Understand

I've noticed a new trend recently amongst my friends.

Blowing things off/flaking out.

Three times in three weeks it has happened to me, with one particular friend. On two occasions he was too tired to go out. I wasn't angry that he was tired. I was angry that once he never called to let me know what was going on.

The other occasion I hadn't invited him along. I had a game group with some other friends and he asked if he could come. I told him he'd have to ask the host of the game group, though I would like for him to come. So after asking, he decided about two minutes before I picked him up that he was too tired to go.

And I had to call him to figure that out! I HAD TO CALL TO FIGURE THAT OUT. I. HAD. TO. CALL. If someone is too tired to go somewhere, I think they know before two minutes before pick up. Like say, a half hour before.

Look, I don't deny that things come up. If someone got sick, that's fine. Please don't come along, rest and relax! If an emergency comes up, go and take care of it! Let me know what I can do to help you!

I don't think say, staying up all night to play DnD when you knew you had plans is an emergency. (This didn't happen to me, another friend.) I don't think that staying up to watch My Little Pony is an emergency. See what I mean here?

Am I weird? Is it common courtesy? What?

Sunday, December 25, 2011


I've never gotten along too well with my father's mother. I don't fit her ideal of what a woman my age should be. My cousin does beauty pageants and is a cheerleader and gets decent grades.

I never did any of that stuff. I wrestled. I went to a charter school. I write novels. I play Dungeons and Dragons. I'm dorky and get good grades. She doesn't get it. And in a way, that's okay.

I usually HATE writing my Christmas list to her. She never gets me what I want. So the past couple years, I started being super general. I want pajamas, slippers, my favorite perfume, gloves, a scarf, and earmuffs.

Sometimes I want a generic black hoodie. Sometimes I want boots, but usually she'll just give me a gift card because she's worried about the pin in my foot and what I can wear.

This year, she bought me a FABULOUS fuzzy jammie set. WITH MATCHING SOCKS.

"Oh, I know you like pajamas. I wanted to get you the warmest, most comfortable pair I could find." Wow. Thanks! I said as soon as I come home from work I get dressed in pajamas. "You should. You're relaxing."

Also I'm a cold sleeper so these are awesome! AND THEY'RE RED. SHE REMEMBERED RED IS MY FAVORITE COLOR!!!

I opened my perfume. "I am so sorry! I forgot what kind you liked. I just knew it was purple and had to do with the moon or something." It was Twilight Woods. I like Moonlight Path, but this stuff smells close and I'm not bothered. Hell, she got me two bottles and two bottles of perfume!

"It's okay! I like this, too!"

"Well, you're allergic to stuff and if you can't wear it--."

"It'll be okay. Thank you!"

Then she was worried because my gloves didn't PERFECTLY match my earmuffs. They were pretty close, and I wasn't bothered! I thought they looked cuter that way. And the scarf she picked is beautiful.

And there's a problem with my financial aid right now. My grandmother whipped out an insurance policy she got on me when I was small and figured out how much I can borrow, and if all else fails, get on the payment plan, and then borrow against the policy. So I can finish.

And *this* was the biggest surprise.

"I've been talking to your dad. It really isn't fair that you're working and going to school and he's not helping." Well, it kind of is. I mean, I am an adult? I should have to do these things.
"So I told him he has to give you graduation money, because you really do need it. And you know what, if you need help paying for school, he's helping. I'll talk to him, because that's not fair. You're so close."

Well! Thanks Grandma!