Confronting the ghosts of a rather ecclectic past and drinking some others out. Made a former abuser cry at a aparty at the Steyer house and mortally offeneded another.
Situation has gotten better at hand as have become the new intrest of an editor. A writer? This could work out. Found said writer to be absolutely boring in topic but with good imagination. Oh, the possibilities.
Even spoke to chrissy after a night of free shots with another blonde and Crims. He says he's ok, but he sounds sad, he's always sad. And I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.
Really. I mean it isn't even tragic and despicably lied for once. Really, I'm well.
Being around all the people I've left for long, it's odd in a way to be playing the part I've have wanted had this been 1997. When they tell me I look good, I have grown up quite beautifully, I alway feel that same mix of insult and compliment. I get so many people telling me they never forgot my name, my face, things I said and did. I want to know why I ever questioned myself in the beginning. I could have done much better because I was better. To embarrass the boy who made me cry year ago for weeks on end, to be asked for my number by the kid who bruised both my arms on my 12th birthday, its all unusual, but I guess settles things perhaps I hadn't fully resolved. To have that peace and now the realization of what was and what wasn't... it's beautiful even. And I know I'm sounding stupid writing about the people I've looked down on for years, the place I'm ashamed to be from, but seriously, it's good to have come this far.
And it isn't even acheiving anything; I never needed their confirmation. I never needed their respect. I laugh when they tell me how pretty I am, because I always was pretty. I always was beautiful and witty. I always had a clever smile, a free laugh, a colorful imagination and an amusing appetite for liquor. I never needed their respect and seeing this now, that what Crims has been saying for years was true, that I am a strong person has been extremely therapudic. I got through those horrid times brought back and set to peace by the events this summer on my own, even when I didn't realize the world was a big place, and blonde hair wasn't ugly. Even when I wasn't Casey, but Cathy. Even then. What I've always had and for those reasons had been so ashamed of, is indeed my best. That my self sufficience and quiet pride is something to be envied, and no longer misunderstood, most of all by me. I always had it, I just hid it. I don't need to be that person anymore. I have no reason to hide.
I always go by no regrets, but in the past this had more or less been a defense. There are things I regret, but not in a shamed way. I regret listening to the advice of people who had no advice to give; most of all my own misgivings. I regret not hearing the advice of Crims, of the people who really know me, a staid and precious few. I regret never knowing what people are no longer embarrassed to tell me, that I had always been beautiful, the horrible things people had said to me in those awkward years were never true, and being old enough to see that and happy enough to apprechiate it are invaluable.
I have few pictures from then, but I kept them all in the same album. I flipped through it the other night, and saw her, the loud girl with the bad skin, thick glasses and metal braces. The orange hair I was so ashamed of that has no become the feature people notice most. The hips that grew before anyone elses. And I confirmed it, I wasn't the monster I like to remember in allegories of my tacky adolescence that I relate to people I meet now. I was lost. And now, I'm found.
I was telling someone the other night that one of my most hurtful moments was when a kid I had liked told the entire class during an assignment on what he thanked God for (Catholic school, understand) that he thanked God for me because he felt I was strong because everyone "hated me." But I shouldn't have been ashamed. He was right; I was made of different stuff. I was stronger. I would have never done the things I've endured to anyone. I would have never followed the crowd simply to fit in, and I didn't. I did what I wanted, and am better for it. And at last, I've come to it, the respect I needed all these years wasn't theirs but my own. I would never trade places with the girl in those pictures, but I'd like to have told her what I know now.
"I always wanted to ask you out, I was just afraid of what my friends would have said."
I tell you I heard this and laughed, not out of my usually degree of discomfort, but with satisfaction.
I was never afraid, and now I know it, too.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Retail Therapy
Over it. Going for broke today as bought anything I admired. I love the fact that I can do that now.
Adore Ker, spent hours with her tonight. Adore her. Adore her!
Found out London boy is actually from Nottingham. Hmm.
Brunch on Saturday with Bre. OOOOOOOOOOOOyea.
Hot.
Have I mentioned I've had four hours of sleep and still going?
Hell yes.
Hopes and fears.
Hopes. Blimey-well hopes.
Adore Ker, spent hours with her tonight. Adore her. Adore her!
Found out London boy is actually from Nottingham. Hmm.
Brunch on Saturday with Bre. OOOOOOOOOOOOyea.
Hot.
Have I mentioned I've had four hours of sleep and still going?
Hell yes.
Hopes and fears.
Hopes. Blimey-well hopes.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wow.
Was better today as remembered something. I am curvy and blonde and impecably dressed.
(Chrissy who?!)
Um, and let's discuss how obsession with best friend has become scathingly worse. 0r at least I think so. See, single and weird I could accept. Gay, I could accept. With a gorgeous girl, I could try to accept. But with that ugly little scrawny bird-like thing? None of these.
Things getting intresting at new job as have become the center of a large arguement over a sticker on a package of some boxer briefs.
All of fucking these.
Have eaten all of these today, as you can see.
Bought some new shox to motivate self to run.
Otherwise am over it. As per usual.
(Chrissy who?!)
Um, and let's discuss how obsession with best friend has become scathingly worse. 0r at least I think so. See, single and weird I could accept. Gay, I could accept. With a gorgeous girl, I could try to accept. But with that ugly little scrawny bird-like thing? None of these.
Things getting intresting at new job as have become the center of a large arguement over a sticker on a package of some boxer briefs.
All of fucking these.
Have eaten all of these today, as you can see.
Bought some new shox to motivate self to run.
Otherwise am over it. As per usual.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Wow.
London men are fab.
Opening mind up to other things as am alone.
Over it at new job.
Over it entirely!
Opening mind up to other things as am alone.
Over it at new job.
Over it entirely!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Revalation
Better today, but sad as ever. Nothing happens. No change in forecast. Nothing. Monotony used to make me feel safe, I'm bored now with never meeting any new people.
Over the nonsense with Chris and his India. Have decided things happen for a reason, and we aren't the same. We don't value the same things, and I do look at the future.
Have understood that there is nothing wrong with that, or with me. It is actually a sad little realization, as am now back to being bored.
Other Enlightenments:
1. I AM an ice queen. It works on me, I'm quite pale and my nose upturns naturally. I'm part Scandinaivan; it's practically my heritage.
2. I have dated better men in the past and will continue to date such men in the future, Chrissy or none.
3. I cannot define my self worth by a man, who, at 29, will give $20 to a friend for sticking hot sauce up his nose.
4. I cannot define my self worth by a MAN.
5. The future is bright and now it is a free of black t-shirts purchased for 25 cents.
6. I do not like penguins.
7. It is similarly fitting (see #1) that my younger brother called him a donkey. He really is a jackass.
8. I am ready to move on with my life. And I want to do this without the need for pennicilun that a relationship with India's throwbacks might insue.
9. I can be biting when I think in truth.
10. I simply want more. He couldn't give it. Not that he didn't try as I always claimed, he just couldn't give it. And she is satisfied whereas I never was. So, let it be.
11. My family has enough drama.
12. Square toe shoes are OUT. And his insistence to wear them proves the insistence to never changing.
13. I can not live without change.
14. I never liked his band, his friends (except D., but for nothing more than is not respectable) , his taste in drinks, his preference for stupid girls, and his mother. In fact, I want to reiterate that, it was so freeing. I NEVER LIKED HIS BAND, HIS FRIENDS, HIS DRINKS, HIS MOTHER. I DIDN'T THINK HIS MOTHER WAS SO GREAT.
15. I don't think he was a good guitar player. I found him very stiff. And those photos he so glorified were cheesy and made me laugh, not with him, at him.
16. One word: TEETH.
17. Ice cream with a fork. Give this damn girl a good spoon!!!
18. I laughed the day it ended, I laughed the day after that, and then that. And I'm still laughing; living. I'm still living. If he isn't powerful enough to make all that stop, he isn't all that great, no?
So the lesson of dearest Chrissy is not to lose oneself in misery, not to let one's own hurt ego tranform itself into a romanticized version of the man himself. Let us remeber, dear readers, that one can fix what began broken. It's just easier to return it.
And who is tacky enough to rebuy?
Over the nonsense with Chris and his India. Have decided things happen for a reason, and we aren't the same. We don't value the same things, and I do look at the future.
Have understood that there is nothing wrong with that, or with me. It is actually a sad little realization, as am now back to being bored.
Other Enlightenments:
1. I AM an ice queen. It works on me, I'm quite pale and my nose upturns naturally. I'm part Scandinaivan; it's practically my heritage.
2. I have dated better men in the past and will continue to date such men in the future, Chrissy or none.
3. I cannot define my self worth by a man, who, at 29, will give $20 to a friend for sticking hot sauce up his nose.
4. I cannot define my self worth by a MAN.
5. The future is bright and now it is a free of black t-shirts purchased for 25 cents.
6. I do not like penguins.
7. It is similarly fitting (see #1) that my younger brother called him a donkey. He really is a jackass.
8. I am ready to move on with my life. And I want to do this without the need for pennicilun that a relationship with India's throwbacks might insue.
9. I can be biting when I think in truth.
10. I simply want more. He couldn't give it. Not that he didn't try as I always claimed, he just couldn't give it. And she is satisfied whereas I never was. So, let it be.
11. My family has enough drama.
12. Square toe shoes are OUT. And his insistence to wear them proves the insistence to never changing.
13. I can not live without change.
14. I never liked his band, his friends (except D., but for nothing more than is not respectable) , his taste in drinks, his preference for stupid girls, and his mother. In fact, I want to reiterate that, it was so freeing. I NEVER LIKED HIS BAND, HIS FRIENDS, HIS DRINKS, HIS MOTHER. I DIDN'T THINK HIS MOTHER WAS SO GREAT.
15. I don't think he was a good guitar player. I found him very stiff. And those photos he so glorified were cheesy and made me laugh, not with him, at him.
16. One word: TEETH.
17. Ice cream with a fork. Give this damn girl a good spoon!!!
18. I laughed the day it ended, I laughed the day after that, and then that. And I'm still laughing; living. I'm still living. If he isn't powerful enough to make all that stop, he isn't all that great, no?
So the lesson of dearest Chrissy is not to lose oneself in misery, not to let one's own hurt ego tranform itself into a romanticized version of the man himself. Let us remeber, dear readers, that one can fix what began broken. It's just easier to return it.
And who is tacky enough to rebuy?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Ridiculous Thoughts
"It is foolish to regret something that is already done." - Melissa P.
A week has gone and I'm still alive. Job, and trip to amusement park in which my blood is still whooshing around. Observing all the couples.
But new thought. Maybe me and her, we're not that different. I always said she was my antithesis, everything I am not. But here she is. She wanted once, too. She stood there whilst the shoes were on my feet. She watched as I lead. Did she sit like me and contemplate? Did she despise me? Did she live in regret that maybe there were things she had wanted to say, so foreign to her that not even she was aware of them; lurking in her subconcious. Did she want to impress the mother, four feet and accomplished? Did she just want things to change? Did she want more? Does she worry about trust?
He said where we differ is she doesn't worry. She lives in the now; he's so hedonistic. I'm too jaded for that; I walk the Earth worrying the bottom will fall out; it usually did. If he had known.
And what for now? A thirst for a drink already knocked over, a hunger for a meal spoiled. Another life calls me and we might as well be strangers.
I don't cry. You'd like to see that perhaps. But I'm different, I soldier on, doing whatever I can, working harder. You always said I was a negative person. I thrive off disappointment, I'm so used to it. I've prided myself on stoicism so long I know nothing else. You've always said I was stronger than alot of people, in my odd way.
I wish I had gone to Geneva. You get to move on with your life and here I am. It kills me to know you're happy now where you were never happy with me.
I do want to cry sometimes.
But it IS foolish to regret something already done. And someone who doens't care if it is or what. And you were to care, how should I know? I wouldn't want to, what would it change? She;d still be there. And good for her, I've nothing against her.
In the drop of the rollercoaster, just before it goes down before the loops, I closed my eyes. I wanted to feel it. I want to feel this, too, as odd as this sounds. I want to be sad. I want to be angry. I want to grab onto it as long as I can. Never say die. I'm not ready for this sort of thing.
Please don't say hello to me, please don't be kind. I'd rather you scorned me, I'd rather you yelled, I'd rather you were angry. Kindness is so cruel; I don't want to be friends; friends meet and greet your significant others; friends drift apart after the fact, friends get left behind. Exes, we are forever. Dignify me enough to let me be safe without having to see you with her, with letting it go. Please don't pity me, please don't feel sorry for me. Please don't bother about it. I don't want that part of you, I don't want to be forgotten in that dismissive way. Don't congradualate me on my new job, don't praise my taste in fall '08 suiting colors, don't say everything will be ok because the fact of the matter is it isn't; and I see that. Don't tell me I'll be fine, don't tell me I'll get over it, I don't want that kind of reassurance, I don't want to be insignificant enough to be a friend. I don't want to be another friend. We cannot be friends; we cannot.
And I've no idea.
I really cannot do this. I really can't.
A week has gone and I'm still alive. Job, and trip to amusement park in which my blood is still whooshing around. Observing all the couples.
But new thought. Maybe me and her, we're not that different. I always said she was my antithesis, everything I am not. But here she is. She wanted once, too. She stood there whilst the shoes were on my feet. She watched as I lead. Did she sit like me and contemplate? Did she despise me? Did she live in regret that maybe there were things she had wanted to say, so foreign to her that not even she was aware of them; lurking in her subconcious. Did she want to impress the mother, four feet and accomplished? Did she just want things to change? Did she want more? Does she worry about trust?
He said where we differ is she doesn't worry. She lives in the now; he's so hedonistic. I'm too jaded for that; I walk the Earth worrying the bottom will fall out; it usually did. If he had known.
And what for now? A thirst for a drink already knocked over, a hunger for a meal spoiled. Another life calls me and we might as well be strangers.
I don't cry. You'd like to see that perhaps. But I'm different, I soldier on, doing whatever I can, working harder. You always said I was a negative person. I thrive off disappointment, I'm so used to it. I've prided myself on stoicism so long I know nothing else. You've always said I was stronger than alot of people, in my odd way.
I wish I had gone to Geneva. You get to move on with your life and here I am. It kills me to know you're happy now where you were never happy with me.
I do want to cry sometimes.
But it IS foolish to regret something already done. And someone who doens't care if it is or what. And you were to care, how should I know? I wouldn't want to, what would it change? She;d still be there. And good for her, I've nothing against her.
In the drop of the rollercoaster, just before it goes down before the loops, I closed my eyes. I wanted to feel it. I want to feel this, too, as odd as this sounds. I want to be sad. I want to be angry. I want to grab onto it as long as I can. Never say die. I'm not ready for this sort of thing.
Please don't say hello to me, please don't be kind. I'd rather you scorned me, I'd rather you yelled, I'd rather you were angry. Kindness is so cruel; I don't want to be friends; friends meet and greet your significant others; friends drift apart after the fact, friends get left behind. Exes, we are forever. Dignify me enough to let me be safe without having to see you with her, with letting it go. Please don't pity me, please don't feel sorry for me. Please don't bother about it. I don't want that part of you, I don't want to be forgotten in that dismissive way. Don't congradualate me on my new job, don't praise my taste in fall '08 suiting colors, don't say everything will be ok because the fact of the matter is it isn't; and I see that. Don't tell me I'll be fine, don't tell me I'll get over it, I don't want that kind of reassurance, I don't want to be insignificant enough to be a friend. I don't want to be another friend. We cannot be friends; we cannot.
And I've no idea.
I really cannot do this. I really can't.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Making My Way Back to Reality
Third day. Feeling slightly better as have stopped blaming Chrissy and focusing on myself. What I must have done wrong. Perhaps its the fat on my upper thighs? The size of my hips? My cheeks' widths. My hair didn't fall the right way. I was too tall. I didn't dress right. I need to lose 40 pounds. My skin is too pale. I'm ugly. Beautiful skinny India, with long DARK hair and skin that tans even in May. Short, skimpy little wisp of a thing. Quiet and softspoken. Hardly audible. Following Chrissy around everywhere, like a lapdog.
I thought like this all day, and I realized I was being sad and pathetic. Sure I'll blame my looks, but what woman hasn't? The main thing to remember here is India, my antithesis; the woman I played second to. Or did I?
I've got youth, my career, my clothes, my mind, my face, my brain, my mouth. And I had him first.
If he prefers her, so be it. She needs it more.
But this isn't about bashing her, I refuse to surrender to that.
My friends all called today to make sure I was doing well. I am. I'm still standing. I did well today at work. I did the best I could. I poured myself into it. I bought new shoes. My new book came. I had good hair. I got my order from Victoria's. My VISA recycled. I met a man, a British man.
Shen at work made me laugh, saying, "If he really wants HER, do you not pity HIM?!" Sixten was by with another smile. The phone rang all day with well-wishers.
Still I was a bit sad, but it's tapering off. I was too busy to think on it much, and settled more for letting my mind wander in the underwear department in front of the picture of Calvin Klien's Travis. I'm doing what I can.
Good.
I thought like this all day, and I realized I was being sad and pathetic. Sure I'll blame my looks, but what woman hasn't? The main thing to remember here is India, my antithesis; the woman I played second to. Or did I?
I've got youth, my career, my clothes, my mind, my face, my brain, my mouth. And I had him first.
If he prefers her, so be it. She needs it more.
But this isn't about bashing her, I refuse to surrender to that.
My friends all called today to make sure I was doing well. I am. I'm still standing. I did well today at work. I did the best I could. I poured myself into it. I bought new shoes. My new book came. I had good hair. I got my order from Victoria's. My VISA recycled. I met a man, a British man.
Shen at work made me laugh, saying, "If he really wants HER, do you not pity HIM?!" Sixten was by with another smile. The phone rang all day with well-wishers.
Still I was a bit sad, but it's tapering off. I was too busy to think on it much, and settled more for letting my mind wander in the underwear department in front of the picture of Calvin Klien's Travis. I'm doing what I can.
Good.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Picking It Up...
So okay it's the second day of being utterly alone, unhappy, and heartbroken. But I'm standing pretty well, considering the fact I go through phases, some wanting to slash some tires, others wanting to cry under my desk in utter, impenatrable and endless despair. But overall displaying a feeling of knowing things need to move along. Which is why I'm writing today, Chrissy can't have this either, pride or none.
Work going along smoothly, worried a bit too smoothly. Is so different to be a proffessional these days. Nearly was arrested this afternoon for examining packaging for men's thongs. Sixten is feeling the burn, too. It is good to have a commiserary in-office, even if down the hall. We had a good laugh though, Lady and the Tramp, how I am replaced by my antithesis. He says what everyone says, it's not that serious; I did better. Six, it isn't the thought of losing a scrub, it's the thought of losing.
My life has become a struggle; I'm so exhausted at the end of the day. I've forgiven and unforgiven 20 times today. There is nothing better for disappointments than work. And I put heart and soul into those thongs. (and some Italian tourists...)
Long and wonderful life ahead. Even if the rain falls harder on my head these days. Can't even bring myself to put on eyeliner; most of me just wants to lie in bed and listen to sad ballads of women scorned. I refuse to let that happen. Not for "Chrissy," not for his India. Not for all the lies, all the garbage he gave. I'm going to succeed and do it better than any of the other girls on my floor. I'm getting my MBA and my liscense. This won't stop me. This won't be on my mind a week from now. I'm going to be better. I'm only 22. There are so many reasons to be strong, and you're always stronger than you think.
I just have a headache. I can't do this right now.
Work going along smoothly, worried a bit too smoothly. Is so different to be a proffessional these days. Nearly was arrested this afternoon for examining packaging for men's thongs. Sixten is feeling the burn, too. It is good to have a commiserary in-office, even if down the hall. We had a good laugh though, Lady and the Tramp, how I am replaced by my antithesis. He says what everyone says, it's not that serious; I did better. Six, it isn't the thought of losing a scrub, it's the thought of losing.
My life has become a struggle; I'm so exhausted at the end of the day. I've forgiven and unforgiven 20 times today. There is nothing better for disappointments than work. And I put heart and soul into those thongs. (and some Italian tourists...)
Long and wonderful life ahead. Even if the rain falls harder on my head these days. Can't even bring myself to put on eyeliner; most of me just wants to lie in bed and listen to sad ballads of women scorned. I refuse to let that happen. Not for "Chrissy," not for his India. Not for all the lies, all the garbage he gave. I'm going to succeed and do it better than any of the other girls on my floor. I'm getting my MBA and my liscense. This won't stop me. This won't be on my mind a week from now. I'm going to be better. I'm only 22. There are so many reasons to be strong, and you're always stronger than you think.
I just have a headache. I can't do this right now.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Chrissy, pour toi.
Chrissy, I never knew you read this. This is just one of the things I guess we'll never say. I'm glad I told you I was angry. I am. I'm glad you know I've forgiven you because I do. Not because I want to, because I want the part of me you took. I want her back. You can't walk away with that.
You know, you never got me. You saw what I wanted you to see. And I'm hurt and angry and miserable and upset but I'm okay.
You're just as scared as I am, aren't you?
After we spoke I got up and looked in the mirror, and I looked the same.
And I want you to know I laughed. I AM too dramatic, sometimes.
So here's to us, Chrissy. To who we were, to who we are, to who we will become. This is your choice. I've never felt more real than I do lately, the weeks setting in a greater sense of self than I ever knew possible; being stripped of school and tossed into the adult world. And you'll miss out on all that; I forgot I wasn't alone in this. You'll never see the woman I've become, the money I'll make in my new career in fashion, the home I'll lease in the city. You'll never see the pictures from my MBA graduation, listen to my stories of the people I meet in class. You'll never know the grace I'll attain, never ride in my passenger seat, never see me dance in the rain. Never hear my theory on 19th century British literature, never see me cry, never have another whiskey and coke with me. You'll never touch my thighs, recently thinned, you'll never smell my new scents. You won't see my new highlights or new tortoise shelled heels. You won't be around to toast me at my dinner parties, you won't hear my laughter. You'll never hear about my new days in corporate society, you won't be able to watch me climb.
You're never going to know the woman you helped create from the silly little girl in designer clothing.
Merci beacoup, mon petit ami, pour tout le monde.
Pour tout le monde.
"Life goes on. That's how it should be." - Sally Field
You know, you never got me. You saw what I wanted you to see. And I'm hurt and angry and miserable and upset but I'm okay.
You're just as scared as I am, aren't you?
After we spoke I got up and looked in the mirror, and I looked the same.
And I want you to know I laughed. I AM too dramatic, sometimes.
So here's to us, Chrissy. To who we were, to who we are, to who we will become. This is your choice. I've never felt more real than I do lately, the weeks setting in a greater sense of self than I ever knew possible; being stripped of school and tossed into the adult world. And you'll miss out on all that; I forgot I wasn't alone in this. You'll never see the woman I've become, the money I'll make in my new career in fashion, the home I'll lease in the city. You'll never see the pictures from my MBA graduation, listen to my stories of the people I meet in class. You'll never know the grace I'll attain, never ride in my passenger seat, never see me dance in the rain. Never hear my theory on 19th century British literature, never see me cry, never have another whiskey and coke with me. You'll never touch my thighs, recently thinned, you'll never smell my new scents. You won't see my new highlights or new tortoise shelled heels. You won't be around to toast me at my dinner parties, you won't hear my laughter. You'll never hear about my new days in corporate society, you won't be able to watch me climb.
You're never going to know the woman you helped create from the silly little girl in designer clothing.
Merci beacoup, mon petit ami, pour tout le monde.
Pour tout le monde.
"Life goes on. That's how it should be." - Sally Field
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