21 might as well be 12

So… if you read me at all… well, you know that I am on myspace… no… more like, I’m crazy addicted to myspace. So, I get random messages from guys interested in basically fucking the shit out of me once and a while. Here is a little message from one of these boys. He’s actually attractive… and 21. 21 might as well be 12 and is basically wrong for me. 21 year olds look like jail bait and generally don’t know jack. So, I dip my finger in the surface of that glass calm pool and see what happens.

His message to me:

Hey, I was browsing myspace and saw your profile on this site and figured I'd send you a message since you seem like an interesting person and were cute and single. I'm 21, 6ft, 155lb, have brown hair and blue eyes. I'm a full time university student here in san diego. I'm a genuine, authentic, and adventurous kinda guy and would be interested in getting together with you some time if you'd be interested. So if you're interested in getting to know each other, then you can reply to me on here I guess. Kev


My response…

Hello Kevin,

I’m flattered. Thank you for your compliments. I wouldn’t mind getting to know you. I am very open and honest and therefore must caution you, I’m not interested in dating or relationships at this point in my life. I am interested in friends. If you’d like that then we can arrange hanging out. The possibilities from there are endless. Please feel free to read more about me in my blog on myspace and let me know if you’re still interested.

Have a beautiful day.
Ruth

K – so I hate it when people misspell or their grammar is off, at least do what I do and use word to get it slightly right.

I have decided that I am actually going to write in here now… because well… it’s a lot more anonymous.
Fuck.

Fucked... almost doesn't cover it.

I’m riding my life, not driving it.

Where do I get a license to drive my life? Do I pay a fee, is it painful, is it exhilarating, will there be help, is there a permit, do I drive with an experienced driver for a while first?

Fuck, I just feel so fucked. Fucking injured. Fucking exhausted. Fucking wasted. Fucking mortified. Fucking loser. How is that you continue to fuck everything up? How is it that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face? Idiot. Imbecile. You think your some kind of rock star? You think you deserve love? Ha! You’ve created this, like the water wears away the earth, you’ve trained yourself, your in this fucked up groove and its all your fucking fault. All of it, it’s all yours, your pretty, ugly on the inside mind needs to find it’s own fucking way out of that muck.

You continue to think that someone else is going to bring you happiness, peace, and what, love? No wonder you’re here in this hole. Don’t you thrive on it? Don’t you enjoy the drama? You create it yourself, for fucks sake. For fucks sake. Yeah, you hear his words in your head? Can’t turn it off? Can’t make it go away and you can’t make it out, isn’t this where you design what you want to be said, you make some kind of sense out of it. It’s fiction. Fuck. You’ve got it all made up. You’re not fucking unique. You’re not fucking special.

Yeah, go out, go out tonight, get drunk, and get in some trouble. You don’t need to deal with that shit. Do it tomorrow. Yeah, and you’ll say the same fucking thing tomorrow. Just put it off; just let it go one more day. When will you start? When will you get it? This is it. You’re just letting the time wash over you. What the hell are you waiting for? Look I know you’re the queen of fucking procrastination, but, fuck, look yourself in the eye. You wouldn’t even date you. Wake up. Fuck Ruth, leave your history behind and start living right now.

Fucked becomes the norm. We get comfortable with it. We don’t even know what fucked is anymore because it’s everyday. It’s all I know.

And of course I’ve got amazing fucking friends, amazing friendships, amazing family, but how can you truly enjoy all that shit with this fucking monkey on your back. This boulder that you’re trying to pretend isn’t heavy at all. What? It’s just a fucking boulder that wieghs 2,240 pounds. And your so fucking attached to that rock, to that past, that you don’t even know what life is without carrying around that shit. You’re worried that you’ll just fuck it all up again. You’ll just ruin it. So, you just run.

I have been running for too long. It’s time to stop.
But first, I think it’s time for a drink.

Myspace blogishness

What does, "I need time and space" mean? I need your opinion.
I know that lately my posts have been completely uplifting... so here is some more of that.
Here is a comment on my friends blog - Danielle (she rocketh the Casbah)
I think that you know that we share this fear of abandonment. I do the same thing, either hold on so tight to the relationship that I strangle it to death, suffocating the fire that at one time had lit up my soul, extinguishing any desire for either of us to stay, as I look at the one who gets to share this miserable experience with me with resentment and with the attitude of -you're making me this monster for loving me in the first place, idiot. The other side is this cold emotionless state of un-Ruth-ness. I mean I'm paralyzed with fear, so the mask goes on, I don't fucking care about you right now, I won't let you have me, you'll just rip my heart out of my chest and kill me while I watch, you bastard.
I'm a little sad right now, because well, I got those "I need time and space" words. My friend, my straight guy on speed-dial tells me that that is guy speak for -It's over, but I'll string you along while I go out and have fun, and look around, and I'll probably get interested in other people, and get in their pants and keep you around for whatever I can get out of you, because I know that I have you on the hook.
So, umm, I'd like a second opinion. Can anyone give me an honest translation of those words - I need time and space... followed shortly thereafter by -I don't want any contact with you right now...
Please lay it on me... I don't want the story book answer.
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August 31, 2005 • Wednesday
hearts of space
hearts of space
my heart is running on empty. my love is cheap. my legs are open. i seek no sleep. my head is restless and idle. i cannot weep. i feel that the feeling is going, i'm falling asleep. my love is on pins and needles. it's a bloody pile. it's just a mess. i haven't any patience. i long for no one. i want only a dangling carrot. give it to me and i'll run away. no, i'm lying. i won't stop running. i want to trust. i want to be hurt again. fuck me up. finger my soul. make my cheeks glow. here i need to be alone. surrounded. seal me in tight. make me face my insides. make me taste myself. make it so that i'm okay being alone. time wash over me. how did i get here? there was a series of steps. i was running. i was running. how do i stop? how do i face it? how do i attack it? everything is so fucking wrong. why am i not living the life that i want? it's all about me. forget you. i'll listen to you next week, maybe. i'm never sure of anything. the way i figure it that makes me sane. or maybe on the safer side of fucked. once you think you got it all spelled out, and you're connecting the dots, well, your fucked. your in your own comfortably fucked up palace. you've got your servants and your masters. you seek out something perfect, something ideal and you are only about to fail. you seek out your spot, your niche, your little crevices in this silly suicide temple. can't figure it out? can't make it work? good. life's got to hold some sort of mystery. just like people. otherwise, you find everything a whole lot more beige. a whole lot more blah, blah. a whole lot more of what you don't want, mixed in with what you might want. shit, deciding has always been the hardest part. or was it overcoming my laziness? i am an expert procrastinator. that is one freaking thing that i have mastered. i need to wake up. i need to push the haze aside. i need to spread apart something other than my legs. let my brain do some exploring. let it have it's way with me. cut everyone off. everyone, including my carnal self. no more sex for you. accomplish something, and i'll let you get fucked. take away my drug. take away my passion for running. fuck. i'm fucked. i feel like i'm at the summit and it's time to go back down. climbing down is only easy if your falling.



I wrote the above stuffage on Friday, June 03, 2005 and I feel it today. Thanks for bringing this back to my mind Danielle; it is one of those extremely honest posts on my -just for me and complete strangers- blog.

Oh and for something completely -bust your gut funny... this website is one of the funniest things that I have ever come in contact with. The Best Page In the Universe. Just cuz I think I need a little laughter after the shit that I wrote today.
Currently listening: Staring at the Sea: The Singles By The Cure Release date: By 25 October, 1990
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Betrayal, Heartbreak, Dentistry Current mood: crushed
I wish that I knew how to feel. Honestly I’m heartbroken. He betrayed my trust. I can’t be with someone that I cannot trust. It’s so high school. I’m so disappointed.

He just gave it all away. I was willing to give him everything. I was willing to love him, love his kids as if they were mine, marry him, and have kids with him. I feel utterly foolish. I feel lied to, I feel used. He’s mistreated me. He’s fucked with my head, made me feel loved, made me love him, and for what? So that he could turn around and fuck me over? He is probably with Kelly again. Maybe he’s not. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want any contact with me, and I think that is a good thing, and at the same time, I have little faith in his ability to be alone, probably because he has little faith in his own ability to be alone. He hasn’t been straight with me. If he’s willing to betray my trust he’s willing to do a hell of a lot more than that.

I understand that he has probably never been with someone like me. I am a very strong, very honest person, and he could have learned a lot from me. He may not even know that he’s mistreating me in the ways that he is, and he’s feeling guilty for something, he just doesn’t know what (as far as I go). I know he feels guilty about how he handled everything with Kelly. I feel guilty about how everything went down. I actually care for her, even though she’ll never believe this, and I understand that. I agree that a relationship should fail on it’s own, and not have it’s death aided by an outside person. I hate that I was that person. I said, “It’s either quick death or slow death.” As far as relationships destined to fail go. At the same time, I feel like he’s holding onto her. He’s keeping things from his daughter, almost like, if this thing doesn’t work out with Ruth, well then, I can just say that Kelly was busy and all of a sudden she’s back. Meanwhile I get to float in and out of these kids lives like a ghost. How convenient. This of course is all assumption… and you know what I say about assuming… to assume makes an ass out of you and me.

So here I am pulling another tooth.

I just caught a glimpse of something that he wrote to me. It’s a beautiful piece of writing and elated me to no end… I have it posted next to my computer at work. I’m amazed at how easily and suddenly things changed. I know that the things that he said and the things that he wrote were not lies; I know that he was sincere, only they were just temporary. Poof! I have a boyfriend. Poof! I don’t have a boyfriend. It’s not even the status of boyfriend that hurts me. It’s that I trusted him with everything that I am, if he’s willing to betray my trust, why should I think that he wouldn’t tell the world everything that I have told him? I love him. I mean it. I love him and I can’t be with him, even if he was able to be with me. Even if he was right in his head, even if the circumstances of our unity where completely honorable, he still hurt me. He’s right; he’s “gone about everything all wrong with me.” I thought that he was it; I thought I had found him; I thought we would bring out the best in each other; I thought we were two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together; I thought he was true; I thought it was right.

I am filled with sadness. I’m PMS’s too, so that just adds to the emotional turmoil. Thank god Aaron was at my fingertips when he said that he didn’t want contact. I cried on his shoulder, and literally soaked his shirt with my tears and snot. It was so pretty. Then I went to bum a smoke from Clayton, and he was awesome, all what’s wrong and I cried some more and he distracted me with pictures on his computer of his work (he’s so talented) and his life and Marie’s going away party, and then we watched some of that movie…Constantine which was good. And Elvis comforted me, and then Clayton fell asleep and I tiptoed out, grabbed my checkbook, walked in on Aaron and Nikki doing it, and then met up with Jen, Kevin, Renee, and Mario at Lancers. I drank about a bottle of Bailey’s on the rocks, and got the boys perspective on the whole thing. I absolutely love Kevin. It was his birthday, it was fun, and I was extremely entertaining because that’s sometimes where I go, when I feel the sadness is unbearable. Laughter seems to be the answer. Renee was all, Ruth, slow down honey; you’re going a million miles too fast. This is completely true. From now on, you need to get through an extensive screening process before I will allow myself to love you. Yeah. Well, one can dream.

So, I wish that maybe Daeman could do the things that he needs to do and then maybe we could start over. Start over the right way, in, at the least, several months time. Start by saying… -Hi, I’m Ruth. Hi Ruth, I’m Daeman. Well, it’s very nice to meet you Daeman. That Only in Dreams by Weezer song is going through my head right now.

So I’ve done all the things that I need to do, erased all his numbers from my phone, erase all his messages to me, try to forget his email. It’s all very hard to do. Especially when I just want to figure out how we got here in the first place. Frustration.

At least I’m moving in. Yeah! My first real home aside from the one I left with Asa. Who called me last night a few times, he sounded drunk, and I didn’t answer. God, I love Caller ID.

Thank you Stephanie, for helping me to seal the deal in my own head. We did make this pact that I wouldn’t allow myself to be in any more damaging relationships. Here’s to sticking to it.
I love you, Daeman, more than I have ever loved anyone. I wish that you hadn’t betrayed my trust. I wish you and yours happiness, love, and success. I’m sorry that I can’t be a part of it. Honestly, I will always love you. Goodbye.
Currently listening: Impossible Love EP By Machine Gun Fellatio Release date: By 09 September, 2003
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August 30, 2005 • Tuesday
Hurting the ones you love is the worst feeling there is.
Emotions are pretty fucking hard to deal with. Even when I was elated and in love with Asa, I was thinking suicidal thoughts because I had taken on too much, I was planning a wedding that was a month away, I was going to school part time, I was working full time, and I was over my head all the time. Something had to go. I decided that it would be school. I knew what I wanted and school took a back seat. I have done this very same thing, regretfully several times.

I wish that I could say that guilt hasn’t been an integral part of my life. Unfortunately, I grew up on the stuff. Thanks to the whole Jehovah's Witness thing. Religion can be so damaging.

I wanted to talk about my amazing experiences with my boyfriend; he really brings out the best in me. Unfortunately, relationships aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. They require work, patience, understanding, empathy, respect, and love doesn’t hurt to be thrown in there. I remember something that Ivy said to me, she said I don’t like to deal in problems; I like to deal in solutions. When there is an issue, and there will always be an issue, I try to think of it in that way. What can I do to better the situation? What can I do to help my partner? You could be asking the –what can you, will you, would you do for me, questions. They get you nowhere. I think the best way to make things work, is to give. Give. Give. Then give some more.

You win, I win, I win, you win, I lose, you win, you lose, and I lose. Shit, did that make any sense? What I think I’m trying to say here is that, if you approach any relationship, and I mean any (family, significant other, mailman) with the idea that –You should play fair. Fair meaning – eye for an eye, you hurt me, I’ll hurt you, you love me, I’ll love you. This shit doesn’t work. You love me, I love you, and if you hurt me, I’ll love you. This is the only way to be successful. People are imperfect. They will always let you down. There will always be something working against you. There will always be a disappointment in your future (even if you try not to expect anything from anyone.) The only way to be happy is to forgive with love. I’m working on this. I’m working on all of this. Understand that I got some of these idea’s from a seminar I took about the book 9 Things You Simply Must Do: To Succeed In Love and Life. I’m such a good girl quoting my sources and stuff.

Wow, am I on the self-help spin.

Thank you to Jasmin, for listening to me forever and letting me know that I need to stop idealizing everything. I truly appreciate it. I’m happy that you have entered my life to be my friend for real. Thank you again. Cheers, to more long talks about lots of other things.

3:58 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Dork is me.

This is random beyond belief… not at all polished and too much fucking information. Oh well, there’s not enough time to make it good. So I’ll just let it ride.
What if there was no lightNothing wrong, nothing rightWhat if there was no timeAnd no reason or rhymeWhat if you should decideThat you don't want me there by your sideThat you don't want me there in your life
What if I got it wrongAnd no poem or songCould put right what I got wrongOr make you feel I belongWhat if you should decideThat you don't want me there by your sideThat you don't want me there in your life
Refr:Oooh, that's rightLet's take a break, try to put it asideOooh, that's rightI can't ignore it if you won't even tryOooh, that's right
When every step that you takeCan be your biggest mistakeAnd it could bend or it could breakWell that's just the risk that you takeWhat if you should decideThat you don't want me there by your sideThat you don't want me there in your life
Refr.
Oooh, that's rightLet's take a break, try to put it asideOooh, that's rightYou know that diamonds are reflective to lightOooh, that's right
What If by Coldplay


As Asa, my ex-husband to be (for those of you just tuning in), would put it quite often… “You can -what if- yourself to death.” It’s true. I would always come up with these scenarios in my head that could possibly happen, and of course this was driving me a little crazy… not that I’m not a little to a lot crazy already. When I’m unsure of something I think of all the possibilities, eventually if I push it far enough I end up in self-doubt, which is not pretty.
Sometimes, depending on the relationship, I whisper inside my head, he loves you, he loves you, don’t be a fool, he love’s you. It seems to get harder and harder to trust when a boy (that I like, in particular) says those words to me. Then even if it’s completely irrational, my stupid gut takes over and guides the rest of me.
If it’s good, it’s really fucking good, and if it’s not good, well, it’s very not good.
It’s that whole fear of abandonment thing that I attribute to my mother leaving when I was nine. My fear that those I love will leave me. It’s part of my sexual thing. I’m possibly a little over sexed. Using sex to feel loved to feel as though I won’t be left. Though, my therapist will tell me that I’m doing very well, and in spite of feeling like I’m not worth it, I have been carrying out actions that demonstrate the opposite. Have you read Emotional Alchemy? Yeah well, I took a credit-free night class about it. I know… I’m a self-help dorkified weirdo. I have been trying to heal myself for a long time.
So onto being healthy, wait, no, onto becoming healthier, that is my mission.
We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a little goodness from Arcade Fire. … … …
Somethin' filled upmy heart with nothin',someone told me not to cry. But now that I'm older,my heart's colder,and I can see that it's a lie. Children wake up,hold your mistake up,before they turn the summer into dust. If the children don't grow up,our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.We're just a million little god's causin rain storms turnin' every good thing to rust. I guess we'll just have to adjust. With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'I can see where I am goin' to bewhen the reaper he reaches and touches my hand. With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'I can see where I am goin?With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'I can see where I am go-goin? You better look out below! Wake Up by Arcade Fire

I hate it when my friends hurt.

I hate it when my friends hurt. I mean I feel it. If someone does some terrible shit to someone I love, well, I cry. I’m completely serious. I feel so useless and helpless when I can’t protect them. I know that I can’t be there every moment to stand behind them, but I’m pretty sure that they know that I’m a little bit inside of them, maybe they remember something that I said, something that made them feel good, something that was true and beautiful and there it is inside of them, something that makes them glow, inside of the ones I love, just as I have them inside of me. This is how I’m never alone. This is the power of memories.

And the ones I love make me glow. I think about bad dreams and people doing mean things to my best friends, to my family, to my lover, and I think about how I can conquer it? How can I heal them, let them know that I love them, let them feel that ever healing compassion that I have for them? Talk about beauty on the inside. I see it in them. I feel it. It’s completely obvious to me. I try to let them see what I see.

I am so lucky to have the amazing family that I have. Being at home (my New York home) was so good for me. It let me remember that distance means nothing when love is involved. Being with my brothers and sister and parents and grandparents and aunties and uncles and cousins was beautiful. I love them so much and they love me so much. Forgive me for how much I’m going to sound –completely cheerful- but that is really what it feels like. Hugs are impossible to measure. Hugs feel so good when you know that all someone wants is to love you and know you. It was healing that I truly needed. I couldn’t quite get my head on straight or focus my aim quite right without having my family there to tell me that they love me, no matter what, and whether or not divorce had scarred my life… even just a little. I did get to relax and had a great time with my brother David and my little sister Cando. Although, I think that Cando is getting into a load of trouble, hell, we all did it, in some way.


I am so very lucky to have the amazing friends that I have. I went home and I was able to see my best friends. First of all, Amy and G-Romeo hung out with me briefly before going to Cape May, NJ. I have been a best friend of Amy for over ten years. Then I got to sleep over her house the night before I left. We discussed wedding stuff. I’m excited about it, even if it’s two years out. Cuddling with Amy is honestly priceless, we are very close, and she is very special to me. I hung out with Tolstoy and Clodagh, we painted the town. I even saw John, my ex of a million years; it was a lot like good old friendship. Although, I had been avoiding him, because I’m dumb sometimes. I thought that he wouldn’t want to see me, since I have a boyfriend. We are good friends and I should have remembered that. I didn’t get to see a lot of people, and I definitely missed a hell of a lot of people.

My beautiful boyfriend, Daeman, wow did I miss him. I mean Jesus F – ing Christ, I missed him. Even though we spoke what seems like a million times on the phone, seeing him again made my knees weak. The thought of kissing him again gave me butterflies. Then you can imagine what happened when we did actually kiss. I said –God Damn! I’m so looking forward to seeing him tonight. Tonight should be delicious. Yeah! I win!

Ivy stayed over last night, and she got to meet Daeman. She liked him right away. It was so good to see Ivy. I mean one minute we are living together baring our souls and the next I never see her anymore. I guess that is what happens when your husband comes back from Iraq. Honestly, I’m happy for them, sad that Ivy’s hubby didn’t get the better job with better hours like less than a bazillion hours away from her. Fucking Marine Corp. So, hopefully we will have more time together while James (her beautiful husband –inside and out) is away in the field. I freaking love that girl. Oh, and Daeman asked her all these questions about what she likes and doesn’t like about me, and she said some beautiful things. Wow, I’m loved. It’s amazing when you love, and then you are loved back.

Stephanie. Well, honestly I can’t say enough about Stephanie. I missed her so much. I felt like I had a Stephanie shaped hole inside of me when I hadn’t seen her in a whole week. She is amazing. She is beautiful. She is so fucking funny. And – she isn’t being treated very well at all by all the folks living in her house and that pisses me off. I mean seriously, smarten the hell up you bastards. I just hate it when her family lies to her, and hides shit from her, hurts her. I wish that everyone in Stephanie’s life loved her the way that I do. I love her, GIGANTIC! She deserves so much more than what she is getting. I love her. We get each other. I really need to dedicate an entire post just to her.

I missed Jen. I missed Sarah. I missed Alex. I missed Danielle –she’s a huge part of why I’m finally writing in this. I missed my roommates to be –Dan and Ivana, (thank you so much for standing up for me even with my ridiculously poor credit). I even missed my roommate who took it upon himself to sleep in my bed with his girlfriend and his dog. Yuk! There are no dogs allowed in my bed of any species. Now I got to wash all of it. Damn it. It was totally disrespectful. I really shouldn’t have expected that much from him anyhow, I mean seriously why would I expect the common courtesy of not sleeping in my bed while I’m gone to actually take place. At least put your own sheets on the fucker. I hate complaining about petty shit. I want to pee on his bed (with him in it).

something to be proud of.

doing the right thing...

The man,

I look forward to seeing you again. Only, there's this: you have a girlfriend.

Therefore, we can't be more than friends. I have been the "other woman" before. I have helped men before you hurt their significant others. I won't do that again. I don't know what your status with –his girlfriend- is. I do know that I respect and like Kelly. I know that she doesn't deserve that, and neither do I. Deception only leads to resentment.

I’m sure that you already know these things, but I will lay them on the table anyway.

If you don't want to be with her, than be honest about it. If you want to be with her, than work your shit out. If you want to be with her, and want to fuck around with me, I’d have to say, it was nice to meet you, have a great life. I can’t do that.

If anything were to happen between us, well, I wouldn't want what could be amazing, in my humble opinion, fucked up by decisions that we regret later. I can imagine some incredibly intense and wonderful experiences with you, but I want that to happen where we both feel right, clear conscious and all.

I have been unfaithful in the past. It doesn't work. Even if you truly wanted to pursue something with the other person, they may somewhere inside them have doubt planted. I don’t want to loose respect for you because you’re pursuing someone while you’re still with your girlfriend. That is not where I want to begin with you. I want nothing but admiration for you.

I urge you to find out what you want. That is quite possibly the hardest decision to make.

If you’re worried that I wouldn’t date you seriously, you shouldn’t. If you’re worried about anything like that, then I’m not being honest with you. I’d like to spend a hell of a lot of time with you, and I work hard to stay busy with other things, because you distract me.

I’m so nervous about tomorrow night, excited, stir crazy, and well you could color me twitter-patted. I get like this when I have company though, I’m all neurotic and crazy, and I want everything to be perfect. I get a little crazy.

See, right now I’d like to talk to you.

I probably should have said all of this to you.

>Wanting to hug you a lot<

Ruth

my favorite little ladies 

exhusband = controlling, manipulative abuser who deserves a face spanking

Here’s a little window to what I went through today. Asa, the soon to be ex-husband, called me, and was trying to be civil, and asked me if Stephanie was at work. It was obvious to me that he was trying to manipulate me (like usual). He explained that the court had lost the document stating that I had been served the papers. He tried to pressure me into something by saying things like, “if she doesn’t sign it, we will have to start all over again”.

Here’s the phone message – word, for fucking word, which he left after I said, “fine then, let’s start over.” I had to hang up on him after hearing him angrily say things like, “If you take me to court, you will lose.” I heard him take off on a rant, and I knew it wasn’t healthy for me, so… “I can’t talk to you right now.” His voice changed dramatically. On the voicemail he sounds like he's lost control, and he's vulnerable. He sounded scared.

"Ruth, I need you to call me back. I need Stephanie to sign this form. She already signed it. The legal office lost it. That's not my fault, it's not your fault, it's not Stephanie's fault. But, it is a document that's already signed. I need her to sign that document. I'm going to ask her to sign that document. Because, the fact of the matter is, she did serve you those papers and that's all this document says, and that's the truth. If you want to manipulate something, you're essentially lying. You can do that if you want to, that's fine, that's your prerogative. I'm going to ask Stephanie to sign these papers anyway.

I'd appreciate if you'd call me back, and we could do this like civilized human beings, if you want to fight about it, that's fine. If you want to go to court, that is a bad idea, Ruth. I have bank statements that say that you spent money carelessly, and I have a uniform with decorations on it, and the Judge is going to see that. He's going to see you as a woman that spent my money, and he's going to see me as someone who served his country. I don't think it's going to come out in your favor. That's just me giving you a free piece of advice.

If you want to go to court, I'm more than happy to go to court. I will ask for alimony. I will get it. You make more money than me. I'm an E-4, unmarried, living in the barracks. I'm not making any kind of money. So you, you are in sales, making all kinds of money. I'll ask for alimony and then I'll get it. But whatever you want to do. Call me back. I'm on my way to your office." –Asa 4:18pm 7-19-
The only true statement in the whole message is this –“she did serve you those papers” everything else is fiction. Stephanie did serve me those papers, and that is why she signed the document he needed her to sign. But, if he thinks that I’m just going to give in, he’s going to wish that he had shown me some kindness, some grace, some understanding. I cannot measure the patience and understanding that I showed him throughout our relationship and when he came back from his deployment.

Right now, Asa is living in our old apartment paying half of the rent and making about $400 more than I am a month. He’s being paid as a Marine Cpl living off base, with a dependant (me). I moved in with Stephanie, and stayed on her futon until I was gifted with the ability to sublet from a friend. Thanks Clayton.

Some background information: He forced me out of our apartment, he wouldn’t leave, and he was constantly seducing me, trying to persuade me to give him another opportunity. I couldn’t give him another chance. I knew that the way he treated me was a part of him, there wasn’t a way for him to change that, counseling would only be a waste of time. I had to leave. I let him know that I was moving out in the coming weekend, so that day he found a roommate, gave me a call and said that I needed me to move out that day, because they were already moving in. I left work early, bought garbage bags, and ran to the rental office. I removed my name from the lease and let them know that there were others moving in. I was ridiculously stressed. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I just wanted to get out. I left all but the bedroom there. Later on, when I said that I wanted some other things, I didn’t get a fair shake, I would like some dishes, half of the appliances, etcetera… Asa told me that I would have to take him to court. I said okay, I’d see him in court.

Honestly, the kid should be a lawyer; he’s extremely talented at manipulating things in his favor, making others see what he wants them too. It’s funny to me, however, how ridiculously stupid he thinks I am. He thinks that all his negative speech is going to dissuade me from standing up for myself. Honestly, it’s worked up to a point. The longer I’m away from him, the stronger I get. I spent too long being torn down by him, It’s time to fight.

Thank god for the strong women around me, who were in almost the exact same relationship with an abuser. Their ex-husbands/boyfriends and mine would get along superbly. Only in their relationships, things went a lot further than they went in mine. Asa was only physically abusive one time. Their ex’s were ridiculously abusive. Asa is incredibly controlling and manipulative, but I escaped before a lot of those things could develop. I escaped without child. I became stronger in his absence. I started to be myself again once he left. It was crazy how well I flourished in his absence.

Shit, I have to sleep.

Friday - Rejection - and getting molested.

So I realize that I’m really bad at keeping on top of this.

My head is full of shit right now. I have to let it out.

So after work on Friday, I went tanning and then got my nails done, mostly preparing for the weekend date that I was supposed to have at the "W" in San Diego. Yeah, whatever. Then I went to Stephanie's little birthday bash at some random place in Carlsbad. What I really wanted to do was just go out with Steph, but we can't always get what we want. I had a lot of fun seeing all my friends and I even met Todd's daddy. It was really great. I was so glad that Todd stuck around post drama (caused by his girlfriend). Drama, thank god I didn't move in with them. Oy vey. So I had a great time, then we all split up. And I wish I had stayed with Steph, cuz I just love hanging out with her, and the pub wasn't what it used to be. So, pretty soon after hanging out at the pub with some cool new friends, Kyle and his lady-she is neat, and Danielle and her girlfriend who are both kewl ladies and we are all gonna be bestest friends, we all left. I drove down to PB and met up with Sarah. We danced at this great club and when the place closed I drove home, and probably shouldn't have. Wow, that was just Friday.

Rejection.

Chicago boy - nick - the supposed "wood salesman" - (when I heard that I laughed) - who was so excited to see me, well, he never called. I don't know what happened. It doesn't matter. I have other shit to do. Although, it makes me not really want to look forward to anything... ever. At least with a boy.

Aaron stood me up. I’m over it. He’s the roommate, by the by. I gave him a guilt trip and feel like he's not even there for me as a friend. I should be able to depend on my friends. Anyway, he doesn't want to put any effort into being my friend, than I won't put any effort into being his. Though I feel like I’m constantly cleaning up after him.

I’m exhausted because of last night, which I’m not really ready to talk about. I was sexually assaulted we could say. It was not a good morning. I feel all fucked up about it. I’m starting to feel complete distrust toward men.

Shit. I have got to go to work in a few hours.

Don't sleep with your roommate.

Don’t sleep with your roommate.

So I moved in not last Friday but the Friday before that. That night I basically met my roommate. I also met his girlfriend. We had kabobs that my roommate made for dinner– yummy. We were drinking bottle after bottle of wine. Then I remember my friend Jen leaving and basically, that’s it. Oh, and I remember getting my –melt in your mouth- Klonipin. And then I remember taking a lot of those with the wine. My roomies girlfriend and I were eating Klonipin like candy.

Sometimes when I drink too much, well, my memory stops, I guess that I’m doing the things I would have done anyway. I just have no memory. I completely black out. I seem completely fine, maybe a little drunk. I don’t even slur. Even my friends can’t tell. It’s not good. It’s the reason that I’m quitting Wellbutrin and Klonipin. That and I want to enjoy the mischief that I get into. I probably had a great time. I know that I enjoyed hanging out with this couple. They were both really easy to be around and we had fun, and I was being all “Ruth” meaning open and honest, and very myself, filter less.

The next thing I remember I’m waking up in my bed nude, alone, wondering what the hell happened. Thinking, shit, maybe I’m safe; maybe I didn’t have sex with that couple. Maybe, I didn’t just walk into this roommate situation and possibly fuck up someone’s relationship, or set some kind of expectation, or cause weird funk between myself and my would be great friend of a roommate.

So, I got out of bed, quietly, noticed that my clothes were all next to the bed. That is a good sign. But wait, where are my flip-flops? Shit. I then reluctantly get dressed and tiptoe downstairs to find my shoes. Then I see the leftover massacre of the evening. Couch askew, the cushions all out of whack. The rug fanned over. Empty bottles of wine cluttering the coffee table, obvious signs that something, a fight, no a brawl, had happened here. Then I found them. My flip-flops were there like a bad omen. My little shoes showed me everything I needed to see. There was sex. I was a part of it. And, now I had to ask someone.

Having to ask someone whether or not you’ve had sex with him or her is true ego castration. And since I’m so smooth, the first thing out of my mouth when I saw him the next day was -hey I had a great time last night… did we have sex? He smiled like he was ready for more. Then he told me what had happened. Lets just say, a lot happened, and I don’t remember any of it. I wish that I could say that that was the first time. You know what they say, wish in one hand, and shit in the other, and tell me which one fills up first. My ex-husband used to say that to me all the time. He knows that I’m a dreamer.

After he tells me everything, well, I’m in a little shock. Is there any going back? Then he asks me what I’m doing tonight, says he’s bored. I’m still shocked, nothing – I reply. So, we went out and had fun and went with Jen and got wasted and ended up together that night. I remember that night. By the way, I’m still in shock, and I’m trying hard to ignore it.

Then he calls the girl that I thought was his girlfriend, and apparently wasn’t, and tells her that they are over. K, so some more shock. I think this was so that he could feel better about sleeping with me. I’m really sad that I’m not going to (apparently) see her again, because I genuinely like her. I didn’t think that he handled it very well. If he doesn’t want to be with her or anyone else in the same way that they want to be with him, then please spare them. That is something I’ve done, and probably will do again, at my most selfish. At this point I’m informed that he’s broken up with her before, so I’m prepared for them to get back together later that day or something. I’m anticipating that happening, because, well how many times did I get back together with Asa?

We end up hanging out all week, hardly any sleep, and lots of fun. We talk about sleeping together more than we actually do. I start being really honest, because I feel like I’m starting to like him. This is where I try to scare him off. The honesty is drunken honesty. We have little arguments about how this is starting to feel like a relationship. He doesn’t want that. I shouldn’t want a relationship, because, seriously, I need to be alone till I don’t feel lonely anymore. (Thanks for the advice, Max.) I just move from distraction to distraction. Right now, I don’t need a relationship. I have to –get over my failed marriage, not get into another dysfunctional relationship.

I had told Jen that he would probably freak out in a week. And 8 days after the initial night, he said something about not wanting to get attached; he had been sleeping in my bed (Clay’s bed) for almost the whole last week. He didn’t want to get used to it. I had gotten several numbers on our various outings. He said that he didn’t want it to be weird. I knew that I had to end it. He didn’t want me, and I wasn’t going to force him to be with me. I wasn’t going to sacrifice myself to him. That’s when I said it –sure, I want a relationship. Then he could say no, and feel good, and I could just get on with it.

Sure enough, the day after, he went to see her. I highly doubt that they won’t be back together very soon, if not already. There aren’t any hard feelings. Once we get past the weird funk, I’m sure we’ll all be great friends. I haven’t had a roommate yet where we haven’t loved each other, and been seriously sad when parting. I’m sure we’ll be like brother and sister in no time. If only I hadn’t slept with the kid.

Now I just don’t want to have sex with anyone. I don’t want to go there. I feel like there is just way too much involved. I’m over the whole sexual exploitation of myself. I’m done with the meaningless shit. It’s time to buckle down and get on with school. And, as my best friends will point out, I have said this before.

playing with pictures.  

i am out of it.

ran dum

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myself and shawn, jen, and pilar - fun with tattoos. 

where i live...

I’m not completely sure that I have mentioned my current living situation in any kind of remote detail. So, I guess I’ll tell you about my spectacularly wonderful existence.

I am, at this moment, ready to go to bed on my favorite futon. This futon is located in an enormous 2400 square ft house. There are 4 bedrooms, 3 full baths, and a very large loft. The loft is what everyone calls my room in the house. Honestly, I make my bed up every night (that I sleep here) and put it away every morning. A house guest, and that is really what I would call me should be a helpful presence not a hindrance. That is what I try to do.

I will never be able to express enough gratitude to my best friend and her family in this life time. This family saved my ass, they rescued me, and they became the family that I needed. I have always been around my brothers and sister, and both sets of parents, and all my grandparents, and aunts, and… lets just say that I have an enormous family. You could say that we are “tight”. They are all, with few exceptions, in NY. I am of course, here in California. I love it here. I want to and will stay here, whether or not I’m going through a tough spot.

The family consists of my best friend Stephanie, who is the closest person to me at this point in my life. She is my favorite, and we completely get each other. She understands me better than anyone else. I think that I need to write something just for her in the future.

Stephanie is also the mother of two lovely three yr old twin girls. They are identical, but they don’t seem it to me, they are both so very different. I love them. They can not do anything that isn’t cute. Even when they are screaming their heads off, all I can think is –how can you make balling beautiful- and then I ache a little because their crying, even when it’s because they aren’t getting their way. They are basically the reason why Stephanie and I got to be such great friends. I was their nanny for something like a few months. I think I loved them by the second week in their company. When I think about how much I love them, and then I think about having my own (someday), well, I am just amazed by the human heart. In all honesty, I think that I could love kids that aren’t mine as if they were. They are so easy to love. Both parents are almost crazy smart and their kids are the same way. I swear I could talk about them all day.

They have a really great daddy too. He is hilarious, super smart, and very thoughtful. He is so good to his family. They have a beautiful solid marriage. They constantly forgive each other, deal with stressful stuff in a constructive way, and are free of any kind of jealousy or mistrust. They are in love, for real, I would have to say. They have a beautiful solid marriage. It’s wonderful to know that those are out there and are possible.

Then there are Stephanie’s parents, who live in the super master deluxe suite infinity period. They have the mother of all bedrooms. They have the Mack daddy of all big ass bedrooms. I could probably live in their bathroom, it’s as Steph would say “ginormous”.
Her daddy is super de duper intelligent, and sometimes a little odd. He has all these awesome colognes, so their room always smells great. I know that he holds back from saying something to me, when I’ve been out all night, or weekend. I’m proud to be considered an adopted daughter sort of. Stephanie’s mommy is in love with soaps. No, I’m serious. She is addicted to soaps on TV, like I’m addicted to the internet multiplied by 2. She is understanding and sweet. She is also addicted to ice-cream. This makes me fat, because if I see you eating some of it, I want some too. They are both a little neurotic. It’s not a bad thing. They like the house clean, and when there are kids and 8 people (plus) living in one house, well it gets dirty. I try to clean as much as I can. I like a clean house. If I’m going to clean, I don’t half ass it, it’s fucking sterilized. I think that they like this about me. They are really great to their grand kids. They are also “yeah God”. We try not to talk about religion. I’m not anti God, or Christianity, of course that is an entirely different blog.

Downstairs there is a bedroom where Stephanie’s little sister lives. I don’t know if she’s still a teen, or 20 or something. She watches the girls while everyone is at work. She is one of the funniest people I know. She’s got that dry sort of flat humor. She basically sponges off her parents and her sister and her brother in-law. Everyone else pays all of her bills, and Stephanie pays her to watch the kids. I think not paying a penny, when you are making a dime and over 18 living with your mommy and daddy is frankly, ridiculous. I got kicked out by my daddy when I was 21 and paying the bills. Thank you, Dad. Anyway, she has this almost constant posse of various other teens, that hang out and smoke and get high and eat the food and drinks that everyone else buys. It’s pretty cool. I think I had something like that when I was a teen. I always wondered why everyone hated me and my posse when we were teens, probably the same freaking thing. I think that another reason people don’t really like teens is because they make everyone else feel so freaking old and mature and I’ve already done that. Everyone calls them the stinky teens. But Stephanie’s little sister is super cool, like her big sister, only you know… 19 or 20 or something. She’s completely into music, and keeps us up to date on what is new and what is good.

I live on my futon in the large loft area. There is a computer, a TV, and my little fan that I can’t sleep without. So, this has been my home since I left my super luxury 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment, that my soon to be ex-husband wouldn’t move out of. That’s when Stephanie and her family offered me a place in their home, hence, the rescuing of Ruth.
Since the beginning of March, I have lived with this family. I can’t even tell you how good it’s been for me. Just being around this family, and feeling like a part of it, well, I get emotional. I’m moving out on the 20th, and I’m going to miss living with my best friend and her family. Thinking about it makes me sad. I love them. I have a good feeling that I will be visiting regularly.

it's a swan... not a duck 

hearts of space

my heart is running on empty. my love is cheap. my legs are open. i seek no sleep. my head is restless and idle. i cannot weep. i feel that the feeling is going, i'm falling asleep. my love is on pins and needles. it's a bloody pile. it's just a mess. i haven't any patience. i long for no one. i want only a dangling carrot. give it to me and i'll run away. no, i'm lying. i won't stop running. i want to trust. i want to be hurt again. fuck me up. finger my soul. make my cheeks glow. here i need to be alone. surrounded. seal me in tight. make me face my insides. make me taste myself. make it so that i'm okay being alone. time wash over me. how did i get here? there was a series of steps. i was running. i was running. how do i stop? how do i face it? how do i attack it? everything is so fucking wrong. why am i not living the life that i want? it's all about me. forget you. i'll listen to you next week, maybe. i'm never sure of anything. the way i figure it that makes me sane. or maybe on the safer side of fucked. once you think you got it all spelled out, and you're connecting the dots, well, your fucked. your in your own comfortably fucked up palace. you've got your servants and your masters. you seek out something perfect, something ideal and you are only about to fail. you seek out your spot, your niche, your little crevices in this silly suicide temple. can't figure it out? can't make it work? good. life's got to hold some sort of mystery. just like people. otherwise, you find everything a whole lot more beige. a whole lot more blah, blah. a whole lot more of what you don't want, mixed in with what you might want. shit, deciding has always been the hardest part. or was it overcoming my laziness? i am an expert procrastinator. that is one freaking thing that i have mastered. i need to wake up. i need to push the haze aside. i need to spread apart something other than my legs. let my brain do some exploring. let it have it's way with me. cut everyone off. everyone, including my carnal self. no more sex for you. accomplish something, and i'll let you get fucked. take away my drug. take away my passion for running. fuck. i'm fucked. i feel like i'm at the summit and it's time to go back down. climbing down is only easy if your falling.

Did you see the last Extreme Home Makeover? and Ranting.

Things like this make me cry like hell.

I wonder should I stay in for another 6 years. I already have 7 under my belt. Why not do the whole retirement thing? What do I have to lose? Any way during this one episode... well, they built this veterans meeting building on a reservation. They built a home for the Piestewa family.

This is the story -

"When PFC Lori Piestewa was in Iraq, she told her roommate and best friend, PFC Jessica Lynch, that her dream was to return to her home in Tuba City, Arizona and build her parents a house to which they could retire. But in March 2003, Lori lost her life, becoming the first American woman killed in the Iraq war. Lori died while trying to save the lives of her friends, Jessica Lynch and Shoshannah Johnson, as she navigated her Humvee through gunfire and debris when it was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade.

Lori is also believed to be the first Native American woman to die in a foreign war. She was a true warrior spirit who fought and died for her country. The 23-year-old divorced mother left behind two young children, Brandon and Carla Whiterock, who are six and five years old, respectively, and are being cared for by Lori's parents, Percy and Terry Piestewa. Currently the family lives in a rented 1200 square-foot mobile home on a reservation in Tuba City, Arizona.

Percy, a junior high school administrative assistant and his wife, Terry, who works as a maintenance worker at the same junior high school, would like to move to Flagstaff, where they can be closer to family. Now, with help from neighboring tribes, as well as the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition design team, the Piestewas will be able to raise their grandchildren in a new home. They will also have a proper place to put all of the many mementos that they've received from people all over the world who wanted to honor their fallen heroine daughter.

Lori has received many posthumous honors, including being promoted from Private First Class to Specialist First Class by the U.S. Army. Last Memorial Day she was remembered with rose petals in a ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery, and she was honored on September 21, 2004 at the opening ceremony of the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, DC."

I think it's fucked up that they promote people after they are dead. What the fuck is that?
Anyway, they also built this beautiful building for the Veterans. They were all crying and appreciative. It was gut wrenching for me.

So - I have also been struggling with this life altering decision - namely, should I reenlist? Honestly, and I don't know what you believe, but I think that everyone in the nation should work for it in some way for at least 2 years. Either, you do the military thing, or you do the -within our borders- AmeriCorps thing or something to that affect.

Of course, that is just my humble taxpaying opinion. By the way this is all JUST my humble opinion. Honestly, we are the modern day Rome; the only direction we can go is down. Thank goodness, we have the “leader” we have. >As I chuckle and cry on the inside< Of course he’s just a figurehead that gets to take blame for a very long list of fucked up shit. Let’s see our military is spread extremely thin, I can’t even get into the war. The powers that be have fucked over our military (so that, our “volunteer military” doesn’t want to volunteer anymore). The whole environment thing, well, that’s fucked. It’s just not “profitable”. I could seriously go on forever about this shit.

So, here I am wondering, how can I help in a country that is so fucked up? Don’t get me wrong; I think it’s an amazing place. I love America, and I hate it. I hate so much of our history. We fucked up the Native American’s, we thoroughly enjoyed slavery, we dropped the bomb, and this is just the beginning. We, and I mean American’s (to include myself) have such a narrow view of what is actually going on. That and the whole attitude that we are all freaking entitled to whatever the hell we want. Take it if you want it. It’s no wonder that everyone else on the planet pretty much hates us. It’s all about me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Fuck everyone else. So, what do I do? Do what you want to do, right?

Do whatever the fuck you want. So, go into graphic design, or reenlist and go into the medical field. We are all so selfish. I am so selfish. I don’t want to choose the easy option this time. I don’t want to think that way anymore. If it’s going to work, it’s going to take work. I’m not talking the Atkins’ Diet here. I’m not talking the easy road. I need to find my path, whether or not it’s straight up hill on my knees.

Shit what the fuck was I talking about?

Out.

turbo slut

I have lots of boyfriends. That’s what I call the guys I’m either interested in, or sleeping with. Honestly, I’ve turned into what my best friend has called a turbo-slut. I have had sex with more people during this one month of my life than in the last few years to be completely honest.

Usually, I’m having lots of sex with one man. I usually have insisted that sex be kept up to at least once a day. In my freaking dreams. I have some issues with sex. I’m sure has become obvious or has been obvious to anyone that even remotely knows me. Some would shallowly call me a nympho. I’m not sure that fits. I won't do just anything just to get some.

Some misinterpret my easily talking about sex, as a constant desire for it. This is generally what I do when uncomfortable. Sometimes, I talk about it blatantly for shock value. As a way of saying fuck you and your conservative tight ass, at least I can say what is on my mind. Yeah, I have some angst.

I just let it all out. I hardly filter anything. Sometimes, I can be hurtfully honest. Sometimes I’m refreshingly honest. Usually, though, I’m just scaring off the wimps. Scaring off the kids that can't handle whatever is inside of me. Something I consider ugly? If you don't know me - then I will only try to gain your approval, and not actually show you anything about me, except of course, what I think you want to see. It’s pretty fucking sad, I know.

I achieved these talents by leading a double life during the whole Jehovah Witness phase of my life. My best friend, Stephanie, asked me if I had any sales experience... I said does 16 years of being a Jehovah’s Witness count for anything. How about leading a double life for at least 6 years before I got out of it. Thank god I got out at 16.

I am completely over the whole organized religion bit. I don't necessarily buy the fucking bible. I’m not sure what is there, I think there is something, just don't really know what. I have my own spirituality and all, I just won't - let me repeat- won't buy into the church culture just to attain some sort of community, when I have so many differing beliefs. The first of which being, I like having independent thoughts. Anyway, enough about that. Lets just say I have a lot of guilt on my shoulders about a lot of things.

To add to that laundry list, sex with people that I don't love, or even have any emotional connection with, I feel pretty guilty about. However, the more I do it, the easier it is.

So basically, the only guy that I have had, shall we say, several sexual encounters with, is my cop boyfriend. He’s older, around 32 I think. He’s got two kids that I haven't met. Two kids, daughter age 12, son age 10 that I don't think I’ll ever meet. See, the cop and I, we are two people who really aren't ready for a relationship, however enjoy each other’s company, and of course there is the sex. We have fun together, laugh, fuck, and it's all dangerous and illegal. He’s also my direct superior in the military. So, you can imagine how much I got off on that, and vice versa. I’m also still technically married. But, since he (the ex-fuck face husband) is fucking other girls or girl... it's free range.

Honestly, I wonder if he cheated on me. I doubt anything physical, but emotional, yeah. Anyway, that shit just makes me angry.

Back to the cop. honestly, until recently, the sex really hasn't cut it. I was more attracted to him and his personality, and that shiny new suit everyone wears when they first date someone. Unfortunately, I was fooled again. What sucked was that I actually did feel something for the guy. And it turns out, this relationship, just like my fucked up marriage, is just about sex. Based on sex. This is not what I really want. I enjoy sleeping next to him. I enjoy the sex, now, finally. I think he must have been incredibly nervous before. We’ve been screwing for a few months now. He’s finally given me my second or third orgasm in that span of time... but trust me the sex is much better.

We have discussed being exclusive. He said that he wasn't going to be with anyone else. He doesn't have the desire to be with anyone else. He also said that he understands that I need to explore, and he doesn't have a problem with me sleeping with other people. At least that is what I gleaned from the whole fucked up conversation. So, when he's away, which is most of the time, I play. Meaning, I sleep with my ex, I have a threesome, I sleep with someone I’ve just met... etcetera. Those things are all fun, only, I feel like I’m doing wrong by him. Even though, all he wants from me, and he's pretty much expressed this to me openly, is sex. "We can get to know each other." I think that we have already fucked it up. There have been some moments where, I thought, okay, I could do this. There have been some moments where we have been extremely intimate, not sexual, intimate. Only, those moments are foreshadowed with the premature sex thing. And I’m always wondering if I’m being tricked.

Fuck. I need to go to bed. I wish I could read minds, find out whether or not he really liked me, so far I think that I’m just his fuck buddy. He hasn't shown any sign of getting closer to me. When I ask him for time, he doesn't have it, or doesn’t think to make some for me. Everything is when it's convenient for him. I know that I should just walk away. He doesn't care for me anyhow. Why get attached? Just like with the ex-fuck face husband. I had to walk away, before being ripped apart.

I’m such a fucking confessional little girl. It’ll be the death of me.

emails.

starting again. and again. and again. and are the drugs still actually working? I don't know I feel less now. Or maybe it's that I care less. Fuck, I'm not any kind of specialist.

yeah.. it's like i don't know if it's me or my sexuality.. that should be a song lyric..
don't know if it's me
or my sexuality...

pinback ... we ran for pinback.. drunkish.

yeah.. when i get rich and bored ... i'm going to do the whole thing .. splooshing .. i think it's called where you put food all over you and sit on cakes naked.. yeah.. i could see how that would be fun!

it sucks to be right. it sucks to be wrong.

I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want all of the terrible things that I thought about him to be real. I didn’t want him to be so transparent. I can see his ugly insides so easily. He remains emotionless. He cares only for his ego, his stupid fucking ego. It’s crazy to be jealous of something so abstract. To be hurt by someone’s defensive nature.

I never wanted to change him. I don’t think that that is what a relationship is about. I think it’s about seeing each other’s qualities and weaknesses and making them stronger. Two are stronger than one. Time like layers makes weak relationships fail and strong relationships stronger. The same is true of distance, of children. We could hardly come close to strong. We didn’t have the foundation of a relationship. We were never friends. We never will be. He is the only serious relationship that I’ve had where that was true. The only one I didn’t have a friendship with first. Why attempt one ever? I don’t want to be hurt by him any longer. I’m pulling the tooth. I should have done it long ago.

No more boys. No more men to cloud and hide what I truly fear. What is it that I’m hiding from? What is it that I’m running from? All my life I’ve been running. Always seeking distraction. Well, it’s time to look myself in the head, the heart, and the soul. It’s time to figure it out. Like Daddy always said… “There’s nothing to it, but to do it.”

gagging

20 calories...

that's all it is... well, your average delectable portion size.

i swallow. i'm not entirely sure why i do it. maybe it's just the easiest way to clean up. i wonder if that is a sin... i'm sure that it is to someone out there. am i eating seedlings? am i digesting little
tiny half people? i know that it probably adds to the experience of cumming for him. i love to feel the sensation of his release into my mouth. talk about exciting.

so, yeah i love to suck cock.

i actually love to 69. it's one of my favorites.

so, i'm going at it, and he is definitely going at it. i'm watching his toes curl and feet squirm. i'm taking him deep in my mouth. he also likes to fuck my face... hey, whatever gets you off.

so, something happens that has never happened before. i took his cock in too deep. it wailed the back of my throat like a jackhammer, tickled my puke mechanism. and then... i couldn't believe it. i had puked on his fucking cock... i managed to contain it in my mouth. he was completely surprised when i jumped up holding my mouth shut, running to the bathroom sink to spit it out. of course i was overwhelmed and grossed out and laughing all at the same time, as i spit the little bit of puke into the sink.

he was all... what happened? are you okay? i was just laughing. i told him what had happened and proceeded to wash my mouth out with some mouth wash. then i climbed right back on, came all over his face several times, and made him cum in my mouth.

i guess a little puke can't scare away the desire to get him off, while he's getting me off.

i'd like to say that after that beautiful moment... him cumming in my mouth... my cum all over his face... i'd like to say that we fell asleep, softly. i'd like to say that soon after the incredible sex, we fell asleep arm in arm... safe... warm... comfortable. i'd like to say that he ran his fingertips lightly over my body, till we both fell asleep... with delightfully flushed faces and bodies moist and exhausted.

unfortunately, we had to fuck it up with conversation.

and ... that is an entirely different story.

quick notes

He torments me with silence.
He smothers me with distance.

He works on my face without words.
He pushes me around without fingers.

He makes me hungry for his eyes, his lips, his ears.
He makes me hungry for him.

And I understand why he should stay away.

He has plenty to be afraid of.
I’m wrought with tempting dangers.

I’m jeopardy on wheels.
I’m a scandal waiting to happen.

I’m the forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet.

And what's worse... I like him.

We can't all be boy scouts, at least not all of the time.

Maybe he knows what his weakness is.
Maybe that is why he stays away.
Did he tell me this would happen?
Did he try to warn me?

I feel like I’m begging for distraction.
I feel lost on the inside.
I feel like I have given up too much.
Thrown too much of me into the light.
Ah... I don't care. I love the light.

Fuck me up. I can take it.

I’m not afraid of pain. Bring it to me
seasoned with moments of beauty and
clarity. I’ll eat the Brussels sprouts as well
as the hearts of men. Delicious.

what is love?

seriously... love makes you stupid.

it makes you do things. stupid things. it makes you completely embarrass yourself. it gives you a euphoric feeling. you feel like a super hero, and that building... you can jump over that, no problem. it's the post intoxication with the love juice that sucks. yes... the love hangover.

i think i've done some of the most asinine things while high on love, or some form of it. on the upward flight of love, i went and got married. on the downward drop i threw myself in front of the car, while my husband tried to leave. i even remember begging and pleading with tears...don't go... don't go... i love you. pathetic. it's during those extremely painful parts of love that we... there i go assuming that i'm not alone on this... we can get pretty hysterical. we can get pretty desperate. it's not pretty.

love, isn't quite like the -i was drunk- excuse. and by the by, that excuse is freakin' lame... and yes, i have used it. so you look back and wonder... what inhabited my body? what had such a crazy hold on me? what was i thinking? let’s talk about definitions of love. i mean we, humanity, we have been trying to define it for a very long time. let’s start out with what others have said about love.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.
-Corinthians 13:7-8-

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; It is not self-seeking, nor easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongdoing. It does not delight in evil, But rejoices in the truth. It always protects, trusts, hopes, and preserves. There is nothing love cannot face; There is no limit to its faith, hope, and endurance. In a word, there are three things that last forever: Faith, hope, and love; But the greatest of them all is love.
- 1 Corinthians 13:4-7-

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.
-Plato-

Love is strong yet delicate. It can be broken. To truly love is to understand this. To be in love is to respect this.
- Stephen Packer-

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.
-Aristotle-

When love is not madness, it is not love.
-Pedro Calderon de la Barca-

Love is the immortal flow of energy that nourishes, extends and preserves. Its eternal goal is life.
-Smiley Blanton-

Where there is great love, there are always wishes.
-Willa Cather-

Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.
-Euripides-

Love is my religion - I could die for it.
-John Keats-

Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.
-H. L. Mencken-

We loved with a love that was more than love.
-Edgar Allan Poe-

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.
-Francois de La Rochefoucauld-

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.
-Tom Robbins-

A pair of powerful spectacles has sometimes sufficed to cure a person in love.
-Friedrich Nietzsche-

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
-William Shakespeare-

Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else.
-George Bernard Shaw-

The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.
-Mother Teresa-

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage.
-Lao Tzu-

Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.
-Peter Ustinov-

A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears.
-Woodrow Wyatt-

A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy.
-George Jean Nathan-

The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the
depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it, you will discover that for you the world is transformed.
-Jiddu Krishnamurti-

i think that there are about a million different forms of love. some say that love is truly knowing someone. when you allow yourself to be truly known... and that person will tolerate all your imperfections. by known, i mean - when you allow yourself to be completely vulnerable.

finding out about what others think of love, makes me wonder.. about whether or not i've done it.

have i loved selflessly?

could i ever be so unselfish?

i think that the more shit you have to get through, the bigger the reward. of course, you would need to get through it.. first. does anything that is easy to attain, taste as sweet as something you have had to work to attain? you can't compare a relationship of one year to a relationship of four years. then again, what if it's just easy to love someone? what if everyday with them seems to slide by and years pass and intimacy grows, love grows.

i asked my father what he thinks love is. he first said.. "do you want the story book answer?" and i said no daddy, give it to me straight. he started slowly.. 'it's when you deeply care for someone... there are so many kinds of love... well, honey.. you love Candice, you love David, you love Brennen, you love your mother..' i interjected 'i love you, daddy' then he said 'and i love you.. now think about your love for your sister, for Candice. what is your love for her?' i thought for a moment. then i said the first words that came to me..

"when i think of my love for her, i feel it, i feel it in my bones. i think that it's something that i can't imagine my life without. the love i have for her. i wouldn't be me without loving her.."

that's what i said about my little sister. she was born when i was eight. her crib was in my room, but she never slept in it. she slept in my bed from infancy till i moved out at sixteen. it started with just calming her to sleep as a baby. then when she was big enough for a bed, we had two twins. we would start out in separate beds, but i would always wake up with Candice next to me. eventually, my dad gave in and gave us a full bed. it was more comfy, the bigger she got. now my little sister who is all of almost nineteen... towers above me at least six foot.

she is a great person. she's compassionate, endearing, and empathetic. she's smart, directed, works hard. she's more considerate of others than i was at her age. she is wonderful. i love her. i don't know how to not love her. we have cried together. we have suffered through so much together. we have laughed together. we will both always be there for each other. there is no question. i guess that that is the way it is when you’re a tight little family. when you've had so many years together. when you know each others faults, and weaknesses. when you know how to help each other. when you take care of each other for so many years. and she's my sister. looks a little bit like me.. just in the face.. just her nose, her face is the same shape. i love that girl.

it's so easy to talk about that kind of love.

why is it so hard to describe the kind of love.. where i have said.. i'm in love with you.

how was i so fearless, letting elephants of my mouth like that?

how amazing, how beautiful, how tender, how painful... but, i wouldn't take any of it back.

risk.. let’s take some risks..

and right now. right now.. i'm heart broken.

pain in my bones. pain in my guts. when you can't love someone that loves you. when you realize that they can never really love you. never love you the way you deserve. when you realize that you don't bring out the best in each other. when you realize that he could never be your best friend. when you can't forgive. when you can't be vulnerable with them. when you have to look him in the eye and say.. i don't love you anymore.

divorce.. is only sadness.

ahh... but what is love?

my shiny new blog..

so here i am.. starting this up. creating this space for myself. and, because.. i don't really feel safe writing it all down elsewhere. we all have secrets. we all have things in our head we don't share with everyone. especially, when most of us compartmentalize our lives, our friends, even our thoughts. this is where i get to let it all out. unleash the demons... and the embarrasingly warm fuzzy things, too. it all belongs here. no one shall be turned away.

i do love to write. once, i thought.. yes, i'll be a writer. i'll tell the world my stories. i'll expose the best and the worst of life. i'll fuel our young minds the way my puttied mind was fired up. i was all sunshine and rainbows about it. you know, that youthful.. -i can do anything- feeling and mindset. this was before i discovered Henry Rollins.. and realized.. that he had written what I had written. my dream of writing had turned into just that.. a freakin' dream.

wait, aren't we all just stealing from everyone? aren't we all theives? hasn't everything been written? it was a simple line, a line that both Henry Rollins and myself had written... and a blow to the idea that my thoughts were merely my own. my words were mine. ownership.

i would need to be good, no i would need to be really real good. no, i would need to be completely original. hey, there hasn't been a me before. of course, who would really like to know what i know? read about my life, or stories about lives, or ideas? shit, i hope that i have an original thought to share. obviously, going to school for writing.. soon fell out the window. and "we all fall out the window..." to quote the Violent Femms who are probably quoting someone else.

or maybe.. i just threw some years on my back and figured.. i'm not good enough at it to really do it. ... well, whatever it was. fuck it.

there is nothing like actually getting started. i will only write for myself. i will only write for fun. i won't be trying to be good at it. i won't be writing for an audience. i'll just be getting things out of my head. i won't worry about grammar or spelling errors. basically.. i will let my thoughts flow without filter. here is to my first foot print in this direction. so far it feels good.