Predicament.

If you really wanted to fuck your ex over, would you?  Would you care about repercussions?

I have a huge opportunity for retribution.  I don't know if I want to take it.

It's hard to ruin the life of someone you still care about even a little bit.  Not that he wouldn't deserve it.

I don't know if I want to ruin everything for him.  But I also really kind of do.

I have about a billion of these:



Almost four months worth, in fact.  (Unfortunately, I deleted everything from last summer.)

I hate being this childish.  But I also am to the point of wanting to make sure neither of them talks to me again.  This is the best way that I can think of the ensure that.

I'm done with this drama.






And yes, every email he sends me gets labeled "Motherfucker".

Severing Ties.

I had a hard enough time accepting Bambi back into my life when I thought I would never hear from him again.

Now I have to deal with his girlfriend thinking it's okay for her to contact me in anger, telling me to leave him alone.

I'm sick of this drama that I didn't invite into my life.  I'm sick of him calling me, telling me he still loves me and  misses me.  I'm sick of her stalking me and reading all his emails.  I don't want any of it.

I thought this was over after he got mad at me and stopped talking for a little while.  I thought it was over after I told him that if I didn't hear from him by my birthday I never wanted to hear from him again.

I thought I had left him behind when I left Redding, because that's what he wanted.  I was finally getting over him.

I'm sick of this bullshit.

I'm done with this drama.  I have too much else to worry about than two people who have no reason or right to be involved in my life.  So I won't worry about them.

Just Thinking

You know what's really stupid?

When your ex's "new" girlfriend is so threatened by you that she stalks your online 'social life'.  Then bitches about the things that she sees to your ex so much that he calls you and asks you to hide everything you can.  Because her obsession and irritation (over nothing) is pissing him off.

You'd think that her commenting on my blog and 'accidentally' "friend requesting" me would make me want to lock everything up just so she couldn't bother me.  But I don't really care.  I don't feel threatened by her.  

If I was I would try to look at her shit the way she does mine.  I would hack into his Facebook and change things to piss her off.  Or I would privatize everything I have online.  

But I just don't care.  

It's too bad, really.  

She has to live in the knowledge that she loves him and wants to be with him while he will always be in love with me.  She has to live with the fact that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never live up to me in his eyes.  In all reality, she will just never live up to me.  

Maybe they deserve each other.  Both (mentally) children who feed of each other's hatred and anger.  It's just sad that, despite that fact, their relationship will never have half the passion ours did because he will never be capable of caring about anyone else the way he cared about me.  And still cares about me.

And the harder she tries to keep him away from me, the less it will work.

In other news, I got mostly A's this semester.  I worked pretty hard for them.  School is out for summer.  I am going back to Redding soon.  Then, assuming I can get the money to do so, I'm going to Alaska for two weeks in July for my summer program.  I'm really excited, even though planes make me nervous.  I'm also almost done reading It, which I had to take a three-month hiatus from in order to focus on school.  Then I have ten or so more books to read this summer, as well as a couple jobs to do and probably another to acquire.  

For now, I'm just focusing on decompression, reading, cleaning, and the currently amazing Central California weather.

You know, if the breeze didn't smell like bovine feces.

Blerg.

You know how some people pretty much make careers of being professional college students?

Yeah.  I am not one of those people.

I miss working so much.

And this is not one of those instances where college kids decide they don't want to be in school anymore, so they set out into the real world to get a job and while working realize they miss school, so they go back.  And then once they're in school they miss working.  Continue this vicious cycle to degree-town.

I'm not one of those.  I didn't miss school when I was working.  I liked working.  Then I went back to school because I missed performing and it was sort of a means to an end.  I also knew I needed a degree to do anything worthwhile with my future.  But I never, ever missed school.

Now that I'm in school I hate it even more.  I fantasize about my old office in Redding.  I had an amazing spring break because I worked for most of it.  That's when I feel happy and useful.

The problem is that I feel happy when I have a good performance, too.  Though, it has been a while since that has happened.

This semester was awful.  This semester raped, pillaged, and molested its way through my entire being.  I have 15 hours left until I'm done for three months and I couldn't be happier.  If I could quit now, I would.  That's how much I don't like school right now.

Not that I've ever liked it.

At this point I'm going to turn in my final projects tomorrow, come home, and sleep for three days.

Madness.

Yesterday was my birthday.

I decided that even though it was in the middle of finals I couldn't just not do something like I usually do.  That would be too depressing.  So I invited a few people over last night to hang out, figuring we'd play charades or just sit around and talk.

That's kind of what happened.

I went to the store and when I got back I found Oose walking into my complex from the street.  I wasn't supposed to see her until Thursday.  From that point on I didn't care how many people showed up or what happened, I was just happy to see my sister again.

Thanks to Oose and my amazing roommate, Toto, there was a pretty good amount of liquor.  Actually, surveying the damage today, there's liquor with origins completely unknown.

By the time other people arrived, Oose and I had both already had a couple of drinks.

At some point more than half (actually, probably close to all of) the music fraternity from my university showed up.  From there things are a little blurry.  I remember pretty much everything, but I only know what was going on in the room I currently occupied.  I guess that sort of the way with parties.  Even parties that aren't supposed to be parties.

All the signs that show people had a good time at your house were present when I got up this morning:

I found at least two articles of clothing that don't belong to anyone still in the house.
Cups and plates occupied pretty much every surface possible.  Even my piano.
My bedroom floor is covered with playing cards.
One empty beer bottle sat inexplicably in the middle of my back patio next to an almost empty (but open) bag of chips.
I wasn't sure who was going to be on my couch when I woke.

I know these things (based on evidence and some memories):

At some point someone left to get McDonalds french fries.
I managed to blow out all the candles on my cake (Boston cream pie) in one breath (because being a singer rocks).
I had an allergic reaction to something in the grass in my backyard and ended up with small cuts all over my knees that became itchy and swollen, but hurt like hell if I actually scratch them.
I wore a tutu and sometime around 11:30 I decided to put on my pink wig and wear that for a while.
Oose dressed to match me because we do that.
And every single cup in our cupboard was used.  Even the mugs.



Above everything else I know this:  I have the best friends in the world.