Off It...

It's a cruel and serious thing, understand, the power of an ex.

Frustration

And I christened that BMW like there was nothing else.

But now I'm angry and alone and upset and miserable and doing strangely fine.

Putting It Down...

Umm, so yea not one but TWO calls this week. A new record, you all see. Some drunk ramblings last night caused me to hang up. (He thinks I need that shite?!)

So here I sit, and wait for phone to ring.

(None of these YET. But YET is there.)


(Right?)

And I seen those other girls; they're not that serious. I'm over it. Am hoping cousin who is 3/4 friendly or decent enough to pretend he is to me will at least keep girlfriend around long enough to call attention to the situation.

Am desperately wondering if I should call. Damn this game! Damn this phone! Damn the entire institution that turned me into this sick, sad person, endlessly waiting by the phone...

(Am slowly losing touch with reality, understand.)

Am wishing his friends would say, James, we now have better things to do than see you. As a last resort, I'd be called. But who wants that? That's scraping the barrell, correct? Correct.

(But I wouldn't be waiting by the phone!)

Me and Dionne at work decided, we need men with zero self-esteem. Men so shod from the world's finer graces that they've naught to do but wait for us. Call us. Buy us presents. Wouldn't I love that?

Am in deep, the picture is setting in.

Deep!

Shamu on the Verge

OK. Updates! So James called, blah blah blah. Back on and the world is sunny and glorious once more. Am beginning to think he is a bit of a prick, as conversing with him has proved exceedingly difficult. Like Chrissy before him, James likes to push my buttons and we all know how Casey gets... So who better to ask how to interpret this but Chrissy himself.

BAD idea. So Chris ended up reconfirming my original hypothesis and did so in a way that i refuse to call the man ever again. I admitt a certain sadness though, at having to speak to him in that way. I miss Chris. I'd never consider taking him back after he's been with THAT girl, but there is always going to be a part of me to miss our talks. He's still upset over the whole situation. Still thinks I'm self-centered and cold. Still wants to know all about my life, scandal and all.

Nothing much else going on, am currently a whale. Bought jeans this afternoon at Bloomingdales in a size bigger than my usual. Am ready to become a recluse. So tomorrow I will eat:

1 leaf of lettuce!


So let's have the tally for today:

Tantrums Thrown at Work: 1
Bosses Pissed Off: 3
Desperate Texts to New Boy: 1
Dollars Spent: 200
Calories: Oh, thousands...

I Will Never Drink a Bud Light Again!!!

Ummm yea so my whole little attempt to include gorgeous James into my city circle, yea, failed. Miserably. Due to the fact of course he has seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet.

HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

(oh, yes! I had assumed so, just didn't hear you correctly. Glad we've sorted this out!)

Whateves.

Anyway, more importantly, work is getting interesting as the fierce women of fashion from the tenth floor duke it out over the battle of the dress shirts, namely today's meeting. Once again I was left to fend for myself mediating product verses marketing. Crazy shit went down. Today's topic of choice was labels on polybags and on the shirt itself. Have decided I want nothing more in my life than to be one of these women, stylish and crazed till the end. Eccentric women of fashion, single at 50 but never without the tolken himbo. (usually non-English speaking and tanned, you see) A fabulous loft somewhere and enough to money to tell the rest of the world to go to hell. (which anyone who knows Casey well enough, knows that this in itself is her greatest wish) These bitches are fierce. I want to be glamorous like that, when she walks down the halls, even if she's talking to herself, which she usually is, people still get to work. I love it. I love watching them string their words together, so fucking out there. I love it.

So what if I've been rejected by a man who everyone said from day one isn't of my calibur?! I'm going to be amazing. I'm on the way up, damnit. I've already got my frist promotion mapped out, and even got invited today to a fashion meeting personally. I love it. I love my job, it gives me purpose.

So maybe it didn't work with James. I'll get over it. How many men before him, afterall.

How many afterward?

Another Nervous Breakdown

Something has got to give.

A book I read recently is the saddest story, but has the happiest ending. Melissa finds the love she sought in all the wrong ways, and ends up happier with a man she'd met at a bar. But the most touching aspect of the story is the story about the beggar who kept bringing the king melons. The king detested melons but took them to be polite. One evening, the beggar dropped the melon in front of the palace, and it broke into a pile a jewels. All those pretty melons broken open into mounds of jewels.

I keep waiting for my own garden of discarded melons, which I guess meant mistakes, to crack open.

But what does that mean, exactly? Is happiness a good job? A drink on Saturdays with my closest friends? Falling asleep next to the most unexpected of adored? A self-confidence that no one can reach?

I have no idea. I really don't know.

Sometimes I dream I'm reading. No action, just words. Pages. Pages and pages of vivid, beautiful tales of who even knows what, I tend to forget them once I wake up. But it's never a first hand experience, never tangible. Maybe that's how I live, on the sides, reading the words that make up some assorted plan I should have been into. I worry I'm too distant. J tells me I'm cold, I'm only nice to her. I know she;s right in some aspects.

I feel I'm letting it all go.

Something has to give. Please.

Acceptance

Oh, the things we do for adoration. And the people we put up with. Namely Gremlin cousin with the soda route. Sigh.

Anyway, the birthday is tomorrow but I'll be damned if I'm going to be one of these sad girls who gives up everything to say it to him. Catherine knows better. But I can't ignore the fact, you know? And I did want to be the first person... (however, would more appreciate being the LAST..."Oh, babe, just tell your little friends you love so much that they can drink their beer alone. We have other things to do...")I've been such a dirty girl, letting my mind wander in that direction all day... BAD.

But soda cousin is seeing him Sunday. Hmm.

It's not this serious. Fuck this guy, man.

(I intend to...)

By George, She's Gaah-It!

Am laughing this morning as the entire Corless against neivahood has ended. Let me show you how:

Cor: Call me when you go home.
Me: Ok.


*some time later*

Cor: You had better not still be out.

*some time later*

Cor: You had BEST not still be out.

*some time later*

Cor: (Leaves unreasonably angry voicemail.)

*this morning*

Cor: How are you feeling this morning?

Is he kidding?!

So now I can relax. Corless is trash. The last thing I need is a controlling man in my life, and taking anymore of his time and enjoying his "gifts" would only encourage him to be possessive.

THIS being said, it all makes sense now. Silly Casey, must you be so foolish?

Poor neivahood, he liked me he did. And I was just crazed not because of some unseen insecurity of him not liking me, but more because it became this entire malfunctioning discombobulated argument against one part of myself against the other. I had been so worried about giving up the glamorous things I put so much value in I forgot why I left them in the first place. I thought back to, and got out the photos of Jonathan, and remembered what being with him was like, having that title that had nothing to do with me. The pictures change, as one fantastically named man became another. One suit after the next. All the expensive gifts I had accrued over the years, all the names I had, all the time I spent playing the different roles. I had so much fun, but I was ready to leave that world and honestly, I don't want to go back there.

One of the most marked things about living in London was coming back and seeing the photos. J always told me when we were girls that I was bad with my expressions, that my face gave me away. I never knew what she meant, and figured it was simply her being overemotional, I'm the logical one. But there are all different smiles in those photos. A different group of girls, one for every relationship she got into, something to define herself. I never had proper parents, I wanted to be taken care of monetarily, I wanted to be hopeless and endless adored, I didn't want to have control anymore for fear that I'd lose it. All I've wanted my entire life was to belong to something. But the photos of me, they were so alone. There are more than a few where I'm in a room of people and the only one looking at the camera.

I left because I wanted a life of my own.

And I've got that.

So as for neivahood, maybe I've wrecked it beyond repair, who knows? But I understand now why it was so different. I also get why he hated titles so much, and why I depended on them myself.

So the summer fades to autumn with a wiser, older version of the same things before.

I want you all to do something for me. I'm asking because I know it works. Hope I get there. Hope I'm someday able to open my eyes, turn the lights on, come out of the imaginary shadows that I've grown into.

I'm getting closer.

Adoration to all of you, who loved me, even when I wasn't lovable.

Officially Losing it

Hmmm. Not much left of what had been my better senses. I find myself walking around more often now, no idea whats going on. It's like the world is in this planned dance that only I missed the steps to.

And I adore it.

Phone ain't ringing and its we all can guess who not calling. Corless however has been calling like the phone is new. I enjoy that at least. Tuesday we're having dinner and drinks. That's sweet.

Out for brunch and sanity in Burg this afternoon to keep in touch. Will wear my new black dress. Everytime I meet s anew man, I've noticed, a black dress. I bought the one with the blue flowers and the one with white daisies whilst Kenny, black with red roses for Mike, black chiffon for Jonathan (or was it Derek?), black silk for Tamer, and now, most appropriately, black cotton for well...

It's hysterical really. I can't seem to help myself.

Pull yourself together girl!!! Let us cast out the delphic comforting liars of our lives and embrace rejection and likewise adoration from a wealthy man willing to give all and anything for our own personal happiness which would only be acheived for the cost of a few mere trinkets we would have bought anyhow!!!

"I find myself choking on all my contradictions." - No Doubt

Here, here.