2.27.2006

I Hate to Admit

I hate to admit it, but I am not feeling so Dark lately. Nothing to complain about. Please stand by...
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2.17.2006

Is Post Break-up Stalking Normal?

I think post break-up stalking is normal. I didn't say it was healthy, but it's pretty normal. Normal, that is, when one part of the ended partnership just wants some clues about how we arrived at splitting.

The funny thing is, I ended it, he's the one who was surprised... but I'm the one stalking.

Now, I'm stalking in a pretty covert way, and although I have discovered tons of ammo to use if he ever decides to say he was "wronged." But then he'll know I was "doing research," and then he'll just think I'm psycho. So disclosing the ammo is not really an option. But here's a clue to all of you internet junkies who have your info all over numerous sites and you use your real name or one singular handle across the board... you. are. very. easy. to. track. So, beware. From statcounters that identify where you live, the number of times you've been where, how long you were there and where you went, to tags and links that show you associate with other groups, to rss feeds of your posts or comments being directly sent to someone's feed aggregator, there's a lot of ways to see what you've been up to.

So yes, part of what pissed me off and made me end my long distance relationship was the fact that I could see him doing really stupid stuff on the internet, like commenting on his buddies' blogs or making a video of himself flipping the world off, instead of trying to contact me when I was not sleeping. Now, don't get me wrong, I was not glued to the computer, but DUH, comments have a time and date stamp. So do posts. So do videos. Additionally, it's not like I was asking for him to contact me more than before. I was just desparately hoping for the same level.

Anyway, I have another secret. Somehow, probably he never signed out when he was here to visit, I can enter his feed aggregator from my compu, which shows the titles (not the content) of his email account. I had to translate it (thanks, Babblefish!), but I found one today that said he had a new message from his online profile at ---.com dating site. Hello! Fucker. Not only that - the online profile pic is one that I took of him on our August vacation. Not only that - he's been active since October. Bastard.

Normal or not, healthy or not, psycho or not, I feel good about the things I've learned from the stalking. He was certainly not where he claimed to be emotionally throughout our relationship. No wonder he couldn't articulate his feelings, he probably thought they would hurt me. And, the fucker, he's still wearing the shirt I bought him when he came to visit me, which obviously means it's just a shirt and doesn't hold any sentimental value. Well, not obviously. One thing I've learned about long distance relationships, is that if there is not clear and constanct communication, both parties end up making assumptions about half the stuff going on.

So. Long distance is now absolutely out of the question!

2.16.2006

While You Were Sleeping

And... while you were sleeping 10,000 miles away, I decided to end it.

There. Said and done. Said and DONE. Yes, I'm done. Working with your gifts, and faults, I have decided that the faults (for me) win. They win!

May your gifts be true gifts to someone special. I truly hope that you find someone who can apprciate them in the long run. Because in my case, your gifts that made me so so happy only lasted a short while. And yes, again, I know you weren't joking about moving to SF. I just couldn't see, with your interest waning, how it was justified?

So, thank you for your extremely venemouse email. I hate (love) you, too. Butwith poison like that, it just can't work. You are like a snake who coils all shiny and peaceful, and then PFFSS! Venom. Unacceptable. I will not endure that. Asshole.

So you're pissed. You're lashing out? Oh, I surprised you? Woops. But it shouldn't have been a surprise - you admitted it yourself 3 times.

But you know what? I'm okay. Really, I've clearly noticed our "age difference" (ahh one year, but one year indeed). And you, although fabulous, and giving, and amazing... are a step behind. It's unfortunate, really, because we could have! Could! Have! Been! Great! Tant pis pour tois (too bad for you). Quand meme, tant pis pour moi au meme contre. Dommage.

So, here I am. Moving On. Yes, I am! I'm focused! Driven! Inspired, even! To KICK ASS this year and prove everyone wrong. I'm not a flailing flower that you need to pick up and coddle anymore.... I am just blooming. So fuck off with you and your poison words, your venom, and let me go. Don't be mad, there's 10,000 miles that you refused to cross after all, 10,000 miles. That's a long way to go if you only just like the girl. But SHIT! I'm quite attractive, inside and out, so what was your problem with me?

Who knows. And at this point, unfortunately for you, I don't care. I don't care anymore. Cheers you psycho-disappearing-Gemini. Cheers.

2.11.2006

The Funniest Thing

The funniest thing, about this blog, is... is that nobody reads it! Ha ha ha. No, really; I am laughing about it. Because this blog is practically a tribute to the most depressive and lackluster times in one's life. Here, here. Or, hopefully, in your case, never "Here, here."

My greatest hope is that you won't become as dark as this. As I have said times before, this is a dark place. What you don't know about me, the author, however, is that I rarely come here. Because I am generally not this way, i.e., not disturbed enough by general occurances to find a high-dive while fully clothed.

Lately, it's seemed as my life has been very pathetic. I thought I was completely incapable of success in my new career, that my long distance love affair was doomed, and that paying the bills amidst all of this was impossible. The bigger problem was that I believed myself - in all of these things.

I feel fortunate, however, and as odd as it may sound, to come from a post-Depression-era family. Why? Because in post-Depression families (and, yes, that is the Great Depression of the 20's, not the "standard" depression of today) you had to work to survive, or at the very least, work so that your family could eat and be clothed. Didn't matter if you were a scientist gathering coal, or a banker selling socks, you fucking made it work. You had to: a family depended on you to make it work.

And then the family grew up, safe and sound, probably with a better education (either from life or scholarly intrigue) but not without "rules of engagement" for The Possible Loss of Everything. And under this umbrella, I, and many others, was raised.

So now, while I look at my entreprenreurial endeavors and how they are panning (or not - HELLO!) out, I look 2 generations before me. I look beyond my upbringing, and that of my parents, and look to their parents. And there, just there, I find the strength to slap myself in the face, say to myself "get it done," and I DO it. I do! Albeit in babysteps. And, yes, it's slightly in part to my parents, but it's mostly because of theirs. I hate the concept of the "welfare society," no matter whether it is defined by The Government or The Family. Bring. It. On: I'll manage.

You'll see.

And This is Why

... and this is why I am not drinking for the next month. Because it is 2:58am, and I am putzing about, and I am SO ready to DRIVE to the store to buy cigarettes. Stupid. Goodnight, then, good night.

2.03.2006

Attempt to Move On

For a very long time I tried not to fall back on you. Because what if, one day, I went to fall back and you weren’t there? After your trip here I trusted that I could fall back and you’d always be there. But I must have been wrong.

I learned a lot from having you in my life. I will miss you.