It's raining things.

I do not wish to talk of what's going on in life, what I've been up to, or what I am going to do.

I just want to make lists. Well, now I am going to have to talk about what's going on to tell you why I want to make lists. On Thursday I will be leaving for my hometown to be in the wedding of one of my best friends. To me, her engagement was a surprise since she had started dating this young man right after she and her ex-boyfriend went their separate ways. I did not think it would last, but last it will. Seeing them together, my friend and her man, you know that they will make it. They are not the perfect couple without flaws and fights, they are just a couple who wants to continue on this journey together. That's something they knew early on and it's awesome.

So, I am heading to my hometown where I need to make sure I have a plethora of things: The dress, the shoes, the bra with its own boobs, an air mattress of my parents that I have had for too many months now, full-sized sheets for my brother that no longer fit on my new queen sized bed, the notes with my hair and make-up appointment times and addresses, the clothes for the rehearsal (in fact, I have no idea when the rehearsal even is!), clothes for regular days, and so on. And because I know myself, I invevitably forget something, usually pajamas or socks. Forgetting socks this time of year is forgivable and can be overcome with open footwear. Pajamas is a little more difficult especially since I am still sleeping on the couch since my mom is in my old room yet recovering from her back surgery.

So, I am going to make a list to clear my mind, to empty out a part of my brain that nudges me over and over to do something.

1. I want to be a neat-freak, but am too lazy to want to clean all the time.
2. I probably have more dirty clothes than most people have clean and dirty clothes all together.
3. I cut my arm on a carboard box.
4. I think my boyfriend reads this blog and doesn't tell me outright that he does. I don't mind that he reads it, but I'd like to know if he does.
5. I used to edit another blog for his reading consumption, but I gave him the link to this blog once.
6. I love raspberry lemonade.
7. I like ice in my beverages.
8. I prefer fountain pop to any other kind, especially from gas stations.
9. I need to get my car washed. I am afraid of car washes.
10. I know how to use ellipses.
11. My parents are the best.
12. I would like to thank my tia Changa for being a voice of reason at times and for making me want to let out my creativity in new ways.
13. My tongue hurts from being smooshed up against my teeth when I sleep.
14. I need to clean my keyboard.
15. I just mopped the bathroom and kitchen floors. This did not go according to plan. I tipped the bucket of water over in the kitchen. There is now water under the fridge, which is completely different than water under the bridge, though they do rhyme.
16. There's been a mattress in my living room for months now. I hate it.
17. I have had some of the same underwear for at least seven years.
18. I have had a few pairs of socks since 8th grade.
19. I once dated a Mexican boy from California on-line and over the phone. He stopped talking to me one day and stopped answering my calls. I hated him for a long time.
20. My dad thought he was in prison because of the photo that the Mexican boy sent me. It was merely Walmart, which may be just as bad.
21. I like full mouth, tongue in the other's mouths, passionate, try to eat each other kissing.
22. I enjoy kissing for hours at a time.
23. I think the water that comes out of my shower smells like skunk. This disturbs me while I shower and try to become clean.
24. I have a G-spot and The Boy knows how to use it.
25. I hate licorice of any flavor.
26. I've never had my make-up done professionally and I am scared of looking like a harlot.
27. I don't wear make-up so I am used to a naked face.
28. I've had my hair done once and it was an unpleasant experience. The girl was mean because I had very long hair and she didn't know how to do it. I did not request an updo, just requested that something be done.
29. My mom doesn't know how to do hair. I never haid braids as a child.
30. My mom offered to do my make-up for the wedding, however, she tends to do my make-up as she does her own: lots of eye stuff and lipstick.
31. I have eyelashes and my mother doesn't really have any, I have large eyes, and my mom's are small, so it looks weird on me. My lips are naturally a reddy color.
32. I miss living where I used to just because there was more shopping for Big Girls.
33. I am a Big Girl. I get tired of people telling me I don't look that big and that I should be able to fit into clothes from this store and that store and into this size and that size.
34. They are always wrong.
35. I haven't been going to the gym because of a problem I'd been having. I gagged througout the day for no reason, well no reason anyone could find. Breathing hard and straining my neck muscles made it worse. I miss feeling "the burn."
36. I prefer condoms to no condoms.
37. The Boy held a baby at my company event the other night and it was very cute. The baby liked him and was having a great time. All the girls who saw him probably would've jumped him right there. :o)
38. The Boy is charming and cute.
39. I use at least four to five tissues a day for my runny nose.
40. I have a genetic trait that makes our noses run after we eat, no matter what we eat. I also am on a medication whose side effect is a runny nose.
41. I still dislike Sloppy Joe's. I tried one yesterday and hate them.
42. I ate pizza and did not throw up.
43. I am going swimming with The Boy's mom this week.
44. I became a volunteer at the Humane Society yesterday.
45. I like puppies but not kitties.
46. I want to go back to school, but I am not sure for what. I am not sure if Library Science is really my dream or if I wouldn't like something else more.
47. I miss school.
48. I love learning.
49. I am going to find out why Sloppy Joe's are called such.
50. You are loved by me.

Three Strikes and You're Out

I was on the computer yesterday morning. I was looking for a fun website I'd been to the other day, but didn't remember what it was called. So, I popped open the history folder and began perusing. Because I don't watch tv, mostly because I don't have cable, I spend a lot of time on-line an visit different websites. My boyfriend also uses my computer and visits other websites, so the history was quite full.



I looked and looked for something that jarred my memory. However, something else jarred me. Someone had viewed personal ads on Craigslist, that someone was my boyfriend. He only looked at three of them and according to the color of the links, he replied to none. I confronted him that morning, I asked him why he was looking at personal ads. He said he'd been looking on Craigslist at all the usual stuff he looks at, motorcycles, trailers, free stuff. And then was bored and "decided to see what people wrote on them." I cried and he looked me in the eyes and said I'm all he wants, that he was just bored, that it was nothing.



I still cried. Finally, I stopped crying and told him to make me pancakes. He did and I ate them. Then, I showered. As the hot water hit my skin, my pores opened as did my mind and thoughts came into my head. I need time to think after things happen, after the initial confrontation, and I find the shower the perfect place to do it. I got dressed in the bathroom and came out with a new anger than before.


I asked why he wanted to know what they wrote on their ads. I told him that if he looks at this stuff at my house, how do I know what he finds at work on the internet, I told him that I do not want to get hurt or be taken adventage of again. I've had someone take my generosity for granted and I will not let it happen again. I do not want to look stupid down the road if I were to find out something had ever happened.


He responded with the same explanation as before, that he was bored and just wanted to look. He said why would he look in the nearest "Big City" for a girl if he were going to cheat, why wouldn't he just go out to the bar and find some girl to fuck. I bawled.

And then I let go. Being angry with him won't solve anything. He can't take back what he did. He can't undo it. But I made a decision. He has one more chance to screw up royally, and then he's gone. It's like the law, three chanes and you go away for good. Same for him, three strikes and he goes away for good.

I am not sure we should be together anyway sometimes. We do not want the same kind of life. I do not want children. I don't like their cries, their whines, the wiggling, the giggling, the constant chatter. I do not want them and he does. I want to travel, I want to be active with bike riding, walks, frisbee, golf, and bowling none of which he can do. We have different ideas on the future and I don't know if they mesh.

So, I'm just waiting to see what happens.

It's only me

I am a solitary creature. I generally do not seek the company of others and wait for them to come to me. I spend the majority of my time in my own little world; at work my headphone drown out the other works in the next cubicles over, at home, I day dream and think in my head where no one else may roam.

And yet, when I picture my life in the future or when I think of what I really want in life, those ideals do not conicide with what I do. I want to have the house where people just drop in for no reason at all and where my rooms are always clean, albeit cluttered, with that lived in look. I want to always have the appropriate snacks on hand and be a joyful hostess to my newly arrived guests. I want to have a spare room for those guests who wish to stay the night or a fortnight. But I do not have this nor do I believe I will, for it goes against my very nature.

It seems that all I want goes against my very nature, which is in fact nature that goes against me. I listened to a book on cd about two young ladies around my age, perhaps a couple of years older, who took off an adventure in Peru. They went to complete humanitarian works, and this has always been my dream.

I was an Americorps VISTA, which is like the Peace Corps, but one serves in the United States rather than abroad. However, I never even left the town I was living in to complete my year of service. And then there is my body itself, which does not produce enough chemicals on its own in so many areas, seratonin, insulin, estrogen, etc. Some days, I can eat very bland food and wind up sick, so I see my dream of being overseas and helping the world, as a farce, a lie I tell myself.

Perhaps, one day I can fill my house with all the friends I will make in the Peace Corps, then as we all laugh sitting around the table playing board games, I will wake up and find myself alone, wanting to escape who I am.

That's making my arms hurt

So, I love grapes. Cold, round, hard, purple grapes. I can only chew them on one side of my mouth because of the receding gums on the other because the chill of the grapes zings my nerves. Did you know diabetes can contribute to gum disease? As if I didn't have to worry about enough things, now it's gum disease. Diabetes sucks. It's a consuming disease. When I eat something I shouldn't, it's not dieter's guilt or the average I shouldn't have done that and now I'll gain five pouds. No, for me, I wonder if that cookie is the one that will lead to me losing my leg or if that donut will make me blind. Each no-no food can lead to some horror, but some horror I can't resist. Trying to fend off ice-cream cravings doesn't work. I just wind up pacing through the room, thinking "chocolate, rocky road, vanilla with cookies," and on.

An on, we go. I joined a gym. I have a trainer. We created a work out. Now, I just have to do it. Two times this week already. We'll see how the rest of the weeks go. I hope it's something I can keep up. But it's so hard to make myself to there, to make myself walk in the door, and to want to make my body hurt and my lungs wheeze. I must admit, I hate cardio. I like lifting weights. I hate sweating, turning red, and feeling my heart pound like that. It's hideous feeling.

I must speak of other hideous feelings at another time. An office conversation, gone awry.

But I will speak of other feelings, kinky ones. I bought some fun things to wear and try out with The Boy. It should be interesting. A girl at work called me a freak, Andrew called me the freakiest virgin he ever knew, and they are both right. So, let's get it on. Wait, why don't you all get it on with someone else and quit reading this drivel.

Tick Tock Time's Flying By

Le big sigh.

I am melancholy and dull. My senses feel dulled, nothing feels especially, well especially anything. I have once again reached that aching feeling, where I long to do something spontaneous, something different, and as always I sit here with no ideas springing to mind, no intensely bright light bulbs blinding my brain. I sit here wanting to sleep, wanting to escape the only way I know how, by dreaming, be it day dreaming or sleepy dreaming. However, my day dreams have become non-existant.

I have no drive to do anything in particular, yet I want to do everything. However, when given the chance to do something, I do not wish to participate. What a viscious cycle. How does one ever end it? Is it like a dryer when the towels are warm, inviting, and smelling so fresh, that a buzzer dings. Do you smell fresh, warm, inviting odors and hear a beep in your head? Or is it audible?

Perhaps, I'm listening for the wrong ring. For there have been rings, of the phone that is. And I've ignored them. A friend from an old job, who, I am sure I have deeply offended with my poor correspondence skills. However, isn't that how old friends are? You pick up where you left off, that feeling of apartness never complicating matters? Perhaps friends are the warm towels, ready to comfort you and absorb your large tears while you are down, ready to spread warm shivers through your body when you are already happy, making you appreciate so many things, especially fabric softner. Do friendships have fabric softner? Does something coat our inner selves and make us softer, more friendly to the touch? I do not know.

Right now, all I know is that I wish to be sad and irritated. I want to wallow in this feeling of despair. Yet, I cannot. I think of something my mother said. My dear mother who recently had back surgery- 12 inches of her spine cut open and sealed shut like railroad track, with 37 staples holding her shut. Not to mention the pins and rods holding her spine upright. She is high on pain killers and tells my dad things like, "You need to call the decorator to put the salad on your head," I want fairies on the ceiling," and other entertaining bits.

I helped my mother this weekend and in ways I've done before, two times before to be exact. For this is her third back surgery, and so three times now we've helped put her to bed, I've fed her, helped bathe her, and assisted with any other tasks that arose, but I think the most important task she was concerned about this weekend was making sure my brother tried on some shorts I bought him. And finally, try them on he did and he had to parade into the room to show her. The power of mothers... screw the power of clean, that ain't got nothing on mothers.

What's red, blotchy and, no fun?

That would be my tummy and then my thighs.

I tried a new diabetic drug. It sounded too good to be true. It's main side effect is weight loss, oh the horrors. I'm a big girl and no matter how accepting of herself a big girl is, somewhere she wants to be thinner, but it's just not worth the struggle. The drug was made from the spit of the gila monster. I was impressed after only a few days. I was hungry every six or seven hours instead of four hours and I ate about half of what I did before. My eyes were always bigger than my stomach since the medication holds the food in your stomach longer, slowing digestion, so the glucose the flows into your blood after eating is steady and a slight drip, not a gush.

I didn't even mind the needles, the sticking myself, I didn't mind any of it. However, I did mind the red, itchy blotches dotting my stomach. Large red spots, some of them nearly the size of a quarter puffed up and itched like the dickens, whatever dickens are. So, I scratched, made them redder and maybe even itchier.

I went to the doctor, we both said it was working so well, so let's try it again. We decided on a new injection site, my thighs. Now, I looked a little strange itching my fat girl tummy, it sticking out, trying to show itself through my shirts. But now, my thighs are itchy and that looks even weirder. I feel like people think I have far roamning crabs or the clap that's moved too far south.

What's funny is that today in the mail I received my free carrying case for my pen injections, a completely useless item now. But I was put another another oral medication, bringing my total to seven different medications a day with a total of eight pills a day. Does anyone want to study me and drug interactions? I would be an excellent candidate.

Speaking of drugs, my mom is on some pretty strong ones after her back surgery on Friday. Six hours of surgery, four of which was just removing scar tissue. This seems to be another family trait. Why aren't any of my family's traits something fun like athletic prowess, musical ability, or artistic skills, no medical oddities. I think we should be on an episose of Mystery Diagnosis and do a special on shitty genetics. Because we have them. My mom is doing well, though she did try to overdose on the pain medication when she was in control of the pain pump. They soon took care of that problem and put her on oral pain killers. Naughty mommy.

I am joining a gym, or thinking of it. I have an appointment tomorrow for my evaluation, which I am not sure what the consists of other then someone telling me I am fat and/or out of shape. This is information I know.

Do you know what else I know? That I am disgustingly in love with The Boy. Some days it just hits me, that feeling, and today it was strong. This doesn't mean I don't want to poke him in the eye a lot or as I said in front of his mom, his two sisters, and his brother that I will punch him in the bunghole.

I shall continue this later.