Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
How often do we come across someone from say, primary school on Facebook and just plain wondered how they were doing or what they've been up to over the years? Then you FIND them and think, holy shit, she used to be a cheerleader and now she looks like an ogre! I mean, I'm not an 'old woman' but I'd like to think that people my age should still look similar to just a few years back. Hell, when I look at photos of myself from when I was about 13, I look younger now than I did then, but then we're talking the 90s. EVERYONE looked older then. Seriously though, that guy you thought was hot couldn't get in a letter jacket, even if it was taped around him and that cheerleader is now using her skirt as a scrunchie.
Sorry, but I'm one of those people that over time has taken some form or smug satisfaction watching the mighty fall. Not a whole lot has changed about me since I was a child other than the fact that my hair has changed colours about 800 times and I grew tits. Admittedly, growing tits was a step up from being that flat chested girl that wore no makeup. Tits gave me the confidence to wear makeup and shake something most girls in my class didn't have yet (and will probably NEVER have). BUT, some have them now, only they're hanging to the floor. I've always been a 'thick' or chubby girl, so no one can say I've gained too much weight, and I've never had a wrinkle or pimple decide to randomly appear unless I'm really confused and squish my nose or forehead up. Here I am, trying to keep this about me and stay positive, when the fact is, there are stereotypes flying EVERYWHERE.
A month or so ago, I found the guy who took my virginity on Facebook. Now, thinking back, I was young and he was handsome. He was a player of the worst kind and fucked anything with a hymen. Yep, he preferred virgins. I think I mentioned this guy years back in an old blog post but I can't be bothered to find it.
I often wondered what happened to him. Did he end up with the hot girls that he got to shag when he was in high school? Did he end up dead in a ditch for fucking someone elses' girl? Nope. He ended up 800 pounds, looking for work with 10 kids and had no clue who I was when I contacted him on Facebook to see if he remembered me. His exact words..."Yeah, can't say I remember you. There are two girls in your profile pic. Which one is you?" Uh...The one that LOOKS JUST LIKE I DID WHEN YOU MET ME and decided to take my virginity.... I've decided that boy I cried over and thought would be the love of my life, ended up trying to be the whitest reggae singer EVER with 10 fucking kids and a redneck wife that looks like she could've been a cheerleader about, eh, 20 years ago but I bet her toothless mouth gives a great blowjob these days... Man, he was someone's dream husband; sure as hell not mine...
God bless facebook and it letting you know how BAD your life could've been if you kept stalking the person you thought was the love of your life.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I stopped blogging for a VERY long time, and I'm not sure anyone will even notice that I've started again, but so much has happened over the last two years that I feel like if I don't get some of it out of me in one form or another, I'll explode.
Over a year ago, I was diagnosed with PCNS Lymphoma. Basically told I had very few options. One option was to operate which pretty much meant I would die. The other option was chemo and radio therapy with a probable life expectancy of 12-18 months. These are words I've uttered to no one and written to very few. I chose the treatment and my brain tumor decided it was content with that and so far, it's let me live. I'm not entirely sure what's making me write all of this down now, but for some reason, blogging has always been more therapeutic than actual therapy.
While life is a waiting game, make the most of every moment. The little things like that warm feeling before you get out of bed in the morning. Whether you have one friend or thousands, tell them you love them. If there's a special someone in your life, make sure they know how much you care. If you must feel like you're waiting, make sure you always find something good to wait for, even if there are a million awful things in between.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
It's something that's never really made a lot of sense to me. So, you have a partner that's ready, willing and able pretty much 24/7, so why spend your time wanking at the computer screen? Seriously... her hands must feel better than your own. No?
Porn is something that's always sort of put me off. I know plenty of men and women that appreciate it, but it's never really done it for me. I've tried watching it on various occasions, but it always makes me laugh uncontrollably. The sounds, the positions, the people, etc.; porn just feels like I'm watching a comedy gone really, really bad. Same as hearing other people have sex. Mind you, I make plenty of my own stupid moans and whimpers during sex, but some people overdo it to the extreme.
I was in a hotel room once, and at about 1:00 am, I was awoken by the sounds of "Fuck me Jimmy!" My bed, being on the opposite wall of theirs, like something out of a bad sitcom began clinking against the wall as some woman on the other side of the wall was screaming at the top of her lungs. Seriously?! I've had some amazing sex in my life, but I think screaming at the top of your lungs is just overkill. I imagine it makes your partner feel like he's doing his job, but personally, if I were a man, I think I'd prefer the soft whimper when something actually does feel good. You never hear men going on like they're being stabbed in the gut repeatedly. Seriously, if I wasn't laughing so hard, knowing what was going on in the next room, I would've thought she was being murdered.
But yeah...my question is this. Why do men look at porn when they have a partner that can't keep her hands off of him? Maybe it's less pressure? Maybe it's less high maintenance? Maybe he'd rather concentrate on getting himself off and only himself? It's just a question. Anyone have the answer?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Today, I went to the post office and was gone for maybe...hmm..20 minutes. If that, to be honest. There was no queue and I zipped in and out in no time. When I got home, I came to find a new note PINNED to my door. Now, the first thing that ran through my mind was Homer Simpson strangling little Bart, except it was my hands around little Lily's throat. But alas...nooo... On closer inspection, I realised it wasn't from Lily at all. It was poorly written and it looked a lot more like someone who was an adult tried a little too hard to make it look like it was from a child. This wasn't Lily... Nope.
The little piece of paper PINNED to my door with what looked like a little sewing pin, said "I see your knickers." Admittedly, last night I ran across the living room naked with the window open, BUT all of the lights were off and NO ONE could've POSSIBLY seen me. Also the spelling on it was terrible, which makes me worry if this is an adult. It said "I see you're nickers" Yes... I'd be embarrassed to post that on someone's front fucking door, wouldn't you?
I was going to let this go, but to be honest it's quite dodgy and quite disconcerting. I mean, who the hell is looking in my window often enough to see my knickers, anyway? And if they DID see me run across my flat at 4:00am with no clothes on, would they seriously pin a note to my door about it? I ended up phoning the police and reporting the note. So maybe that seems just a little anal, but the police found it a bit disconcerting as well. So now we wait. Hopefully no more notes will appear but the notes have been saved and I'm hoping it was just a prank by some stupid kids in the neighborhood.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Some people call themselves picky eaters. Some people will eat anything. I, on the other hand manage not to like anything until I play with it enough to be edible.
Examples of my pickyness. Is that even a word? Pickiness? Pickyness? Fuck it. I'm picky. Spell check doesn't like the word no matter which way I spell it. I went to lunch last week and ordered a chicken salad sandwich. Now, chicken salad is what? Chicken and mayo, right? So why do they feel the need to pile cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, sprouts, and what-ever-the-fuck else she put in there. I can't turn my head for a second without seeing a GIANT sandwich. I go to the bench to eat it and pick everything out. When I say everything, I mean I was left with nothing but a couple chunks of chicken and some mayo. Even the mayo was almost gone. So basically, I ate fucking bread for lunch.
I've gotten a little bit better over time. I used to have to have all of my food separated on the plate. If any of it was touching, I wouldn't eat it. I'd make giant food volcanoes and have them erupting mushy peas.
A list of disgusting foods.
-Mushrooms - Slimy disgusting FUNGI that taste like ass. Not that I've ever tasted ass... Or that I'll ever admit to it..
- Sprouts - This includes all brussel (spelling?!?) sprouts and bean sprouts.
- Any kind of meat that's rare, medium rare or raw. How the hell can anyone eat meat that isn't fully cooked?!? If it looks like it's bloody, keep it far away from me unless you want to see it come back up when I try to eat it.
- Leafy greens - I don't like lettuce that isn't iceberg. If it's too green, I won't touch it. I also hate broccoli, spinach and cooked green peppers but I can eat them raw.
- Fish - Just ANY kind of fish. If it looks like fish, smells like fish or tastes like fish, I won't touch it. Drown tuna in all the mayo you want. It's still fucking fish. This includes all shell fish or chicken prepared like fish. Not happening. And don't try to trick me either, because I always know.
- Any food that I haven't inspected before I eat it. That means taking it apart and putting it back together to my liking.
I do have a slightly promiscuous attitude toward food. I don't like everything, but if I DO like it, then expect to have it everyday until you find something else I like. I can live on overcooked chicken and fruit until the end of time. Oh, and snack food. Nothing beats a bag of crisps in the morning and a diet coke. Breakfast of champions.
This has been a lesson to all you parents out there. Don't let your children dictate what they will and won't eat. Force them to eat their veggies or they might just end up erupting out of Icelandic volcanoes made out of mashed potatoes and green beans.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
I was sitting outside this morning, and a little guy walked by. No wait. Not a little guy. A REALLY little guy. I have never liked midgets. I don't know what scarred me to the point that if I see one, I start to sweat and have to cross the street but it's there. Call me evil, call me prejudice, I don't give a fuck! They SCARE me. Genuine fear, here.
Anyway, I just had to say that I finally looked up what the name of the phobia was clinically for someone afraid of midgets/dwarfs, and surprisingly... it was... achondroplasiaphobia . Jesus H. Christ. Achondroplasiaphobia is a really fucking long word for being afraid of something so damn small.
What are YOU afraid of?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I've been known to quote movies often, painstakingly Lord of the rings. Example, while hanging with my best friend, I would quote it ALL the time. She'd say something to the effect of,"Be really careful with that, it's old." I'd get all creepy and say, "Don't worry, it's my preciousssss." Nods and laughs from her. But I realized that my friend didn't actually know what movie I've been quoting when I said, God, how crazy was Gollum, hey? Her response... "What's a Gollum?" Now what the fuck did you think I was doing when I would say things like, "It's tricksy ya hobbits"? Or someone wouldn't answer their phone and I'd say in the same creepy voice,"They is not our friennnnd." And more importantly, what the hell did you think I was doing when I walked into a room and said in a deep dark voice,"I am never late, nor am I early... I arrive precisely when I mean to" while stroking my long fake beard...
Do you just think I'm extremely fucking weird? Do you just laugh at ANY kind of weird shit that I do? Maybe I could just say something that isn't even a quote from a movie. "Oh, what a little crickily boxily, I won't break it." Would you just laugh and say I was so funny? You bitch.
And I stopped and thought, what the fuck have you all been laughing at these past few years? When I stood in doorways and said "You shall not pass!" And you'd all giggle. What were you all giggling at? When I let you borrow my necklace and you asked if I was sure, and I said,"I choose a mortal life" Why wouldn't you say something since it was such an obviously bizarre thing to say?? You fucking twat!
Anyway, sort of moving on, I thought of some quotes.
Let's see who can name these. Remember please I'm a nerd.
"I wrote you every day for a year!"
"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse"
"I'm 16 years old and I don't need a governess"
"No one knows what it means, but it's provocative!"
"I coulda been a contender"
"I'm in a glass cage of emotion!"
"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?"
"Say hello to my little friend"
I suppose there are some references some people wouldn't get. Like, Lord of the rings isn't a film everyone would've seen. Maybe I just need to stop quoting it or continue looking like an extremely dim and slightly insane girl...
Friday, March 19, 2010
Apparently, I suffer from something called akathisia. Which is basically like, a restless feeling that makes it hard to sit still and stay asleep through the night. I don't want to get on any medications, since my history with doctors giving me medications hasn't been the best. So, I wait. Like I said before, I know the body needs to adjust. We all change over time, and our bodies learn to get what they need. I just wish my body would catch up with my mind because I'm going slightly insane.
This song says a LOT.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I'm a great procrastinator. I'm an awesome procrastinator. In fact, I did all of my packing in one day when I left NY. We're talking a whole Goddamn apartment. I don't think we can forgtet for a second that I'm female and have tons of CRAP everywhere. But try fitting all of your things from your home into two suitcases. Whatever, I'm off topic.
When I know I have something to do, I find other shit to do so that I can avoid the dreaded task at hand. But sitting here, home and sick, I can't find a damn thing to do. I've literally had to stop myself from just staring at the walls for hours at a time. I sat and watched a blue screen on tv today for about 20 minutes. And no...I'm not kidding. So if anyone still reads this fucking blog, HELP!!! Someone give me something other than something stupid like Farmville. I know some serious Farmville addicts. Oh! Plus, I'm also looking for new tunes. I need some new shit in my ipod. I listen to a little of everything so any suggestins would be great. But first thing's first... how to pass a sick day....week...month. Ech.
Monday, February 22, 2010
First off, I've made a huge move. For those of you that know this blog, if anyone is still reading it...You know I lived in NYC and I was going to school there. For those of you that have been following this blog for longer, know that I had a prescription pill issue that my doctor referred me to methadone for. I was emailed by numerous people telling me not to get on methadone, and I know now that it was probably the worst thing I've ever gotten myself into. I was still on it up until about a couple of weeks ago. I went to a clinic, spending over $10,000, to do a rapid detox. It's extremely hard to find information on this program, so I want to just let a little bit of info out. Basically, you're put under general anesthesia and completely detoxed. Then you're put in a room with a nurse under excruciating detox, for a few days. I hardly remember any of it. I was given a Naltrexone implant which is debatable. Apparently it's used to for alcoholics as well. it's supposed to block your receptors and not let your body feel any of the euphoric effects of either narcotics, or alcohol. It also blocks cigarettes I think. Or at least makes them taste like shit. So I have these 5 stitches in my abdomen which are a bitch, because of this implant. And since I've left the country, they can't even take them out for me. Yay! I get to practice being a doctor even before I've managed to reach rounds... I think it's giving me all kinds of side efffects but the doctors and nurses say that they're normal. So there's one update. Wish me luck because I still feel like shit, even if I am a little bit better day by day. Or so people keep telling me. I've also lost about 15 pounds getting off of this shit, which thank god, because I had gained so much weight and I couldn't understand why. Thanks Methadone. :)
So, back to why I initially started this post. I'm going to be in the UK for the next few months being taken care of by someone very special. Someone who has never let me down, and someone that I absolutely love dearly. He has been a good little nurse and taken care of all my pill times and writing everything down. They say in less than a month I'll be "myself" whatever myself is. I don't think I've ever been labeled as anything, nor have I felt "normal" for a pretty long time.... So, no one can blame me or say that I haven't reached out and told people what's going on in Curious World. Of course the fun part comes when I'm better, and I go exploring my surroundings. That should be fun. In this neighborhood, I have a feeling I'll have plenty to share. :)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Part two, which will be semi-quick; I had a fairly icky day today. I'm managing a bakery in Brooklyn. That's my new, crazy job now. Today, I managed to trip, fall, dropping a bottle of Snapple, and slamming down on my hands and knees cutting them both (hands and knees), up a fair amount. So, I plead the ouchies and ask for at least one more week's stay... I'm posting proof of my ouchie for anyone that thinks I'm full of shit. :( Be back soon!!!
Friday, September 26, 2008
"I know, right?" I was BEAMING. "Ma, I'll get to buy new cute clothes and everything!"
"You know... this is huge, S...," my mother added. "It's gonna change your whole life..."
"I know!" I spouted out happily. "But you know, Ma, I think it's time. That clock was just ticking away and it felt like the time to do something about it."
"Well, you're entirely sure this is what you want, right?" she asked. "Ha ha... it's a little late to turn back now, no?" I laughed. "I took the test, even got a little pee on my hand, and, well, everything says I'm good to go."
"I can't wait to tell all of my friends, and just, oh... oh my God!" she was absolutely gushing.
"I dunno if that's such a great idea, Ma... At least not yet," I suggested. "I think we should make sure it, um, you know. Let's make sure it sticks before we tell anyone not immediate. But I guess you can tell Gab, and gramma.
"God.. They're gonna be so, so happy... To find out that you, my special little girl are gonna have,----" she paused, probably to wipe a tear of elation from her cheek---"a job!!!"
I mean hell, I couldn't believe it either. I even successfully passed the drug screening test, after spilling half of it and clumsily sopping it up off the bathroom floor. Yes, I washed my hands. It was a hell of a relief really. Because the last time I held a steady job was like, ages ago, and I had this stupid fucking boss, who would utter things like, "Make that more better," "irregardless" and my favorite, "for all intensive purposes" which for an average boss would've been fine, but this guy was an attorney, and it was a bit unsettling.
So, I'm going to try to take a little bit of time this evening to write a little bit about this new experience I'm embarking on, but for now, as usual, I'm fucking late. Great way to start the day.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Good morning. Salutations, and all that good shit. I have to get this off of my chest while it's still somewhat fresh on my mind, because I think of blog ideas all the fucking time and I manage to either forget about them or lose the 'umph' to write about them once I get home or finally get time to sit at my computer.
Last night, I went on this bizarre cleaning kick at about 1:00am (which is WAY past my bedtime since I get up at 5:30-6:00 every morning to make sure I get to class on time). I must've been delirious or something, because I cleaned my apartment, top to bottom, inside out. I ended up collapsing about about 2:00 (which goes to show you how big my apartment is, as well as how well I clean) and I was seriously, out. I don't think I've ever melted into bed the way I did last night. This isn't what I wanted to write about. See what happens when you try to blog at 6:00am? SO, after my cleaning kick and passing out into a heavenly slumber, I had some of the most a-fucking-mazing sex dreams Ive has since I was 14. Remember pre-teen and early teen year sex dreams? The ones where you actually woke up with your hand between your legs and that nervous feeling that you were going to sit up and your mother would be walking through the door? "Maaaaaaaaaaaa!" Yeah... So I had those last night. Lots of them. Over and over and over again... I was wrenching and twisting and turning and fighting with my sheets all night long. I sleep with about 5 stuffed animals, and by the end of the evening, I only had 2 left on the bed. Even Eyyore jumped ship and I've been molesting Eeyore in my sleep since I was just a wee one. Hot, dirty, unadulterated, (and monogomous believe it or not) fun. (You would think that I'd actually cheat in a dream, but nope.)
Anyway, when I woke up this morning... no... wait... I'm getting ahead of myself here. The final dream I had was extremely vivid. Im sure if I see my neighbors or the woman upstairs, this morning, I'm gonna get some pretty strange looks... It was hot. I was tossed and slammed and flipped and poked and prodded... and, oh my... Where was I? Ah yes... In the dream, I was in a hotel with my "long distance boyfriend". (I'll be amazed if I don't get slammed by the blog of unnecesary quotation marks after this post) And you know how it is. You don't see each other for months, so when you finally do, before you can even have a decent conversation, you have to rip each other's clothes off and at least manage a quickie, or you can't even concentrate on what you're going to do during your visit. So, in the dream, we managed a quickie, that didn't end up being quite so quick, and afterwards, (still dreaming) I got up, walked to the kitchen, (in the dream it was actually my kitchen), drank down a glass of water, walked past the bed, leaned over, clad in nothing but a tee shirt, and kissed him on his sleeping forehead, and walked to the bathroom. I know that some of you're wondering what the hell I'm going on about, but be patient, I'm getting there! I pulled up my tee shirt, sat on the toilet to pee, closed my eyes, and started to fall asleep in my dream. Is that even possible? I have a feeling some of you know where this is going... I'm falling asleep and in the dream, I begin to pee. A warm, relaxing pee, that was both calming and, wait... Huh? Waiiit! Fuck!! Im awake!!! AHHH! I'm peeing!!!! I'm peeing!!! No, no, no, no, no!! I jump up, still peeing, dripping and slipping across the bedroom floor and stumbling to the bathroom, pulling off my little red boyshorts and still half alseep, manage to get them off, (almost... they were dangling from my left foot) trailing pee all over my freshly cleaned apartment floor. I sat on the toilet, dropped my now soaked panties to the floor and peeled my sock off. One wet, sloppy heap on the bathroom floor. Lovely. I shook my head and got up. Washed my hands and arms up to my elbows, walked back to my bed, and felt the sheets, and they were dry. I guess I'd managed to jump up and pee across the bedroom floor insead of on my new matress. I pulled the sheets off anway, dropped them on the floor, and hopped in the shower. I have to say... After such a long crazy night of sex, I am so, so, so tired today. I wonder how I'm going to manage to stay awake in class. I've nodded off twice during this last paragraph, and I know I'm gonna be just a little late for Physics. No more late night snacks before bed.
Friday, August 22, 2008
I've finally settled after my crazy move to New York, and I should be up and running (not with those tits) soon. I miss you guys!
~~Simply Curious Girl~~
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
So, don't ask me why I was watching it to begin with... But... Uh... I was. I don't particularly remember what the show I was watching initially was about, but there came a point in the show where they began to discuss the advances of bathroom commodities. I swear I wanted to switch this shit of immediately, just being tortured by the idea! Not only that, I also had to take a few deep breaths and vowed, “I will never let this happen to my bathroom!” What was it you wonder? It was the advent of a silent bathroom ventilation fan. I mean, what the flying fuck? Why would anyone in their right state of mind want to do that? OK, I understand some fans are way too loud, but for the most part they aren’t. However, the pivotal question is why do I like them?
Though there are many reasons, but the first and foremost of them all is that the vent fan gives you that aural veil of privacy. It may not be required as much at your own place, but when you are visiting someone else’s house it's surely a weapon of choice. Before you go “Ewwwww! Why is fuck is this crazy bitch mentioning all this?” Let me clarify that I am not really concerned with what you have to do once you close the door, rather what someone on the other side of the door might try to do. I am not just talking about those shit head little kids, but adults too!
Some... Hmph... more like A LOT! - people love to find out what you were doing in the privacy of that little 4-by-6 room. You know, when you come out they invariably ask:
“Oh, you had to go pee, eh?”
“That milk not settling well with you...?”
“Took you a long enough time to brush. Sure that's all you were doing?”
"Use enough water?”
"I hope you used the air freshener, girl... ”
Assuming that you went (ahem), even though the real reason may be that you just wanted to find some reprieve from this demonic idiot that you're regretting spending your time with to begin with!
I mean, don’t these people have ‘better’ things to do than to find out what a person went to the fucking bathroom for? On top of that, some of these furtado people will go as far as ‘casually’ eavesdropping on you while you go about doing your business in there. OK. So that hasn't happened more than once, but still, people can be fucking weird!
Well, while you can’t really stop these dingos from asking all those questions (albeit there are a bajillion comebacks that one can practice on them - Heee yaa!), their eavesdropping portion can surely be neutralized by turning on none other than TA-DA! ‘The (not fucking silent) Ventilation Fan!’ Ah Ha! I bet it’s annoying as hell to these intrusive druids when they sneak up next to the door only to hear –
A Burrrrrrrrrrr here
And a Burrrrrrrrrrr Burrrrrrrrrrr there
Here a Burrrrrrrrrrr
There a Burrrrrrrrrrr
Everywhere a Burrrrrrrrrrr Burrrrrrrrrrr
With the friendly neighborhood ventilation fan, you can rest assured that you have freedom of expression. Not only that, you can hone your all important singing capabilities in the hot hot shower for your all important soon-to-be-unleashed Best-Rock-Star-of-All-Time career, American Idol tryouts, singing to Paula, Randy and Simon, without any dumb nut singing along on the other side of the fucking partition. After all, who needs a back up singer when you ‘magically’ acquire the capability to sing for both in the shower?
And of course, how in the WORLD can I forget the synchronized dance number you have been practicing for the video of your number 1 single? Yep, the one that’ll remain on top of the VH1, MTV AND 'Top of the Pops' charts for 20 consecutive weeks? I mean, you don’t want the audial-tom to giggle his/her butt off when you accidentally slip in the bathtub while pulling those unbelievable moves, do you? Ummmm... No!
So faithful readers and others that I don't know but still should benefit from this important piece of information, I suggest that we boycott this new totally worthless invention known to every day dreamers as the ‘noiseless ventilation fan’ and continue to ignore it (it’s expensive as shit anyway) to keep the boat of the loud-ass, audible ventilation fan afloat!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
I've always considered myself a "Miss Independent". If you don't understand what I mean, exactly by that, I'll explain. In my humble opinion, Miss Independent is the type of woman that feels like she can get by just fine on her own. I've never really needed a best friend or a man to complete me, or make me feel like my opinions meant something. I don't need backup when I believe in something and I don't need reassurance that I'm making the right decision. I do often struggle with being a more independent-type-woman, because it means staying pretty busy. Very busy, actually.
Human nature is wanting some kind of companionship. Human nature is calling someone when you're excited about something or proud of an achievement or accomplishment. This is no way saying that I have no friends, at all. I do have plenty of friends, but the amount of close, personal friends are extremely few and far between. I have a feeling that this stems from my childhood. This is a subject I've touched on before, so it doesn't need much explaining. If you haven't been reading this blog for a long time, or you have, but you overlooked this post, you should read it to get an idea. It explains a hell of a lot about the person that is, Simply Curious Girl.
It's obvious that I don't often open my heart and let someone in. When I do though, I do it wholeheartedly. Its not easy to do, and it leaves me vulnerable to all kinds of pain and heartache. The last three, (and only three) times that I've done it, I've made it very clear before I did, that I'm a very sensitive person. I'm the type of person that needs defending because I can't fight. I'm the type of person that would rather cower and cry than get in someone's face or scream and fight. So this time has been no different. The day I realized I was open and my heart was exposed, I made it advertently clear what kind of woman I am because I didn't want to get hurt. I don't want to hurt... Who wants to hurt?!?!
I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this post, because I can't really explain to myself, let alone anyone else, what's going on in my situation, right now. But I do want to say that my heart has taken a bit of a strike and I just need a little bit of comfort. Last night, I curled up in the fetal position, in bed and cried like I haven't cried in quite some time. My stuffed Eeyore comforted me like he used to when I was a little girl, and I just sobbed until I could sob no more. This morning my eyes are nice and puffy and I'm still dragging a little. OK. A lot... Why do I feel like my world is crashing down around me, and will it go away?
Before I end this post on a sad, shitty note, I really wanted to thank the people that have stood by this blog and stood by me, even through all that time that I was gone. The emails and IMs that I've gotten mean a lot more to me than I let on. So, thank you, everyone. I do accept checks and money orders if you're feeling generous. Oh, and of course PayPal.
Weary, so underrate my jury
fear me, I push pencil fury
standing over you like a mirage
I underrated my rating
left the court debating
oh sorry baby, were you waiting?
in the clear but still fading
love is real man
so what if the ocean's rocks miss you
and in the beginning, it was actually pretty easy to resist you
but I had to eat the bug that bit you
I'm sitting under you
like a fascade
tired of not running
ice cream sundaes
with you I actually love Mondays
and face a lot of mundane days
like a crossroad thats only one-way
I generally post once or twice a week when I'm regularly posting, so next week back my regularly scheduled programing. I didn't realize how much I missed my blog until I started typing. I'm most definitely back!!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
I'm going out of town for a couple of days, in which time I PROMISE I'll work on a post and get my blog up and running again.
I'm pretty sure you've all gone away, but just in case anyone is still checking this page, I'm not dead, and the big bad California fires didn't get me, although they were pretty fucking close. Another story for another time. Yeah, so, um, I have to do a short little recap post to let people know where I've been hiding... or not. In any case, I am actually, truly, promise, that I'm back!
Infinite X's and O's,