uuuhhhhh....

today is saturday. i worked all day. then i went to the dog park. there was one other dog there. the other dog humped my dog's neck. i guess our dogs had fun. then i went home. i didn't even drink a beer or a glass of cheap white wine. i'm sleeping late on sunday. i may go to lunch. i may cut the grass. i may shoot up. not sure yet. i like the sound of thunderstorms. and gas prices will be way up on sunday. some oil thing in the ocean screwed up today. well, goodnight.

yours,

whatever

so i feel like i need to say something before i go to bed tonight. i don't know what exactly, but something. i met two awesome chicks today. they live in d.c. and i was there for work. hopefully we'll keep in touch. i danced with a ballroom dance instructor and the cutest little old man with parkinson's. i was visiting an assisted living center there and i joined in on the ballroom dance activity. a large group of elders showed up to participate, and they just loved to dance to the music. the instructor even danced with the wheelchair residents, twirling them around on the floor. oh, the little things....

i think i've figured out why i have such a bad case of the lonliness blues. i was talking with an old friend tonight about relationships and why we can't seem to make them work, and why or how they end. he said that it was hard for him to get over his ex because everything they had together was still there. i mean, she's the one that moved out and made a new start- a new apartment, new furniture, new shit, whatever. he stayed- stayed in the house and everyday he saw all the things that they had together, did together, the memories of spaces and places where they sat together, talked together. you know what i mean. all those things are still here, in my house to remind me, too. and when i sit down at the table, the couch, the front porch- i'm always reminded, and get mad for missing him. i'd like to be over it, and i'd like to move on without any thoughts of him. but it is hard, and denying that is a big fat lie. yes, he was an asshole. but it's his presence i miss- the companionship. the routine. anyway, tell me to get over it again.

ok, i swear i'm going to bed. i'll dream about the wonderful world of work tomorrow and punching the 8 hour clock. sweet dreams, my bloggy readers.

LONELY

aaahhhrrrggggg. i'm feeling very lonely tonight. maybe it's the rain. all day i've just wanted to sleep and all night i've just wanted to cry. it's the end of my period. maybe that's it. rawboy said we only argued when i was on my period. i disagreed. the fights may have been worse, but we argued alot. i think. but what's alot when you live together? how much are you supposed to argue? what's normal? geez. i'm pretty pathetic right now. tired as i am, i must sit here and tell my two readers how sad i feel and that i'm really in need of some company. i seem to somehow take on the problems of the world, with my dad expressing to me his regrets after his wife died and how much he misses her. The old ladies at work tell me how shitty their husbands were and how hard it was being young and married with children in those days. How they used to do so much, and now they do so little. I'm responsible for making their last days exciting, and it's just too much. I don't want it. I want a deserted island, a hut, and an amazing view. Peace and quiet. No responsibility. When did i start using capital letters?

I call on the spirit of Sade to put me to sleep tonight. And a few sips of Port.

I'll be in touch, and i promise i'll feel better next time.

Yours,

oh, and will somebody please tell me why we all aren't working for our fucking SELVES?? is there really any other way to live???
maybe i just wanna sleep late.

how come none of you ever tell me to shut the fuck up? or quit whining? or get over it? i think i need new friends.

Who am I?

Before you bloggers read on, I hope you are all sitting down. This is serious. Hell has officially frozen over. Be warned.

I own a juicer. And it's easier to use than Rawboy's. It's easy to clean. It's white. It's quiet. It's quick. It's spectacular.

Carrot juice, hear me roar. I'm going to juice everything in the fucking house, even the dog. The neighbors will call the cops. The streets will be blocked off. Child services will come. I'll be on national news as the crazy juicer lady.

Give me celery, or give me death.

I'll keep you posted.

Bad Luck Me.

So.

1. Today I couldn't find a parking space.
2. My dog had diarrhea in the middle of a crowded street in the middle of a festival.
3. Some hippie guy in Jesus sandals stepped in it before I attempted to sop it up with my plastic bag.
4. I couldn't pick up diarrhea with a plastic bag.
5. I needed cash at the ATM but I forgot my PIN.
6. My olives fell out of the cart in the grocery store on my way out and spilled all over the floor.
7. My car had a flat tire in the grocery store parking lot.
8. I have to work tomorrow.
9. My tire may be flat again.
10. I have to work tomorrow.

A holistic counselor once told me that my energy was spinning backwards. I think it's just stopped spinning, or it's sitting at a bar somewhere in Tijuana.

SUNDAY

I didn't miss you til today.

I woke up late and you were supposed to be here

making noise in the kitchen

pulling out your chair

writing or reading with your tea.

I went out on my own but

it wasn't that peaceful-

In fact, it was a little

chaotic and

grey.

I went into your empty room

where I put more clutter and a

chair.

I sat in the chair where your bed

used to be and looked

around

and tried

to smell you.

There was no trace of you or

the smell of your candle

that you made for

us.

The only thing I asked you to leave was

the scent of your

room.

It echoes now and

echoes are lonely sounds

so I'm quiet in it

and so were the tears welling

in my eyes

sitting

in the chair.

I think some new

paint

will make your room better

and make me feel better but

not

on Sunday.

The Mourning

This is the final post to conclude the saga of the ex-bartender and Rawboy, a tragedy set in the semi-suburbs of an overrated town in Virginia. Yes, this is your over-the-top, dramatic, and somewhat pathetic confession of a girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders who needs no one. If I told you that Rawboy was moving out this time, you may not believe me. You wouldn't believe me because I've told you this a million times before, and he never left. But tonight is different because all of his things are packed and sitting in boxes in an apartment miles away, a perfect little oasis where Rawboy can do his thing, act like a child, express his anger, be silent, sing, cry, scream, cook, screw, grow up, throw up, mature, find himself, and regret.

Rawboy is an incredible, self-absorbed asshole.

But the reason I post tonight is because I'm mourning his last night here. Don't get me wrong- when it was bad, it was really bad. But there were also the days when we worked really well. I'm remembering a time when he took my hand and led me through the woods to listen to the trees and the water running through the creek.

During his first few weeks in the house, I got very sick and he nursed me back to health.

There was a moment when he stood there and cried over the pain of his childhood and the fear of becoming a parent. I held him and told him he'd be a great father.

In the morning, lying there silent, he played with my hair and had no idea how that made me feel.

One week he went to the Bahamas. My phone woke me one morning with a picture of the sunrise over the ocean. I never told him that I felt like I was with him as I looked at it and cried. I see it every day.

There was a time when he told me he was coming to realize what a beautiful person I was and that he loved me.

He reminds me to breathe.

So there. Maybe I'm too dramatic. Too honest. Too easy. And I'll never hear the end of it from my friends. I wear my heart on my sleeve and don't hide my emotions. I don't care what he sees, or what you see. This is all I have- besides the pill I take to help me sleep.

So tomorrow I am alone again, for the first time in 8 months. Yes, that's a record for me. This "living together" thing kicked my ass. I don't think I'm ready. Fuck, I'm just trying to breathe.

As for the future, I don't wish to continue any kind of relationship with Rawboy. Who knows. He has a lot of growing to do and it should be done in my absence. I would, however, like to see him in about 10 years. We'd run into each other in Figi, where I'll be living in a straw hut by the water, catching my own fucking fish.

Oh, and my kitchen is once again a very lonely place. I think I need a juicer.