In any case, I’m back on the horse now. I didn’t expect to be, but I hung out with a friend/ex-coworker of mine last night… we had some drinks and well, one thing led to another. We went to see Role Models, which is a really funny movie, and then to a bar. We wound up at a Courtyard Marriott around 2:30 AM, and then got breakfast at IHOP around 6:30 AM. I got home around 8:00 this morning. I don’t know where we go from here, but I’m going to see him again later today.

On the work front, I have been really busy lately. I’m always busy, but things are really starting to get down to the wire. Last Thursday I stayed at work until 11:30 because some lady came that night and wanted a bunch of work done by the next morning. It was freaking brutal. And all my other projects seem to be launching at the same time, so it’s a lot of work. I’m gonna be glad once I push those sites out though; then I can start from a clean slate. I’m starting to get into javascript these days. I always knew it, but I just never used it a lot because my focus was really just graphics and html/css. But lately, I’ve just been tired of waiting for the developers to do things for me when I can do it faster with javascript… or to be more accurate: jQuery.

Anyway, I need to get up and run some errands – one being that I have to go pick up my belongings from Rick’s place today. Fun. Then I think I’ll go get a manicure.

Fact: I’m truly okay with not being with David anymore.

Sure, I’ll have those nostalgic moments where I smile to myself like some psychotic woman off her meds while reminiscing, but who doesn’t? However shitty our relationship was at times, it was still the sweetest, most genuinely innocent courtship I’ve had the privilege to experience — from holding hands on the beach to being damned indecent on the dance floor — he did it all. And even though I spend countless hours mentally cursing him to the depths hell for taking advantage of my “genuine” desire to be his, I thank him for everything. I thank him for genuinely liking me. I thank him for genuinely thinking about my well-being. I thank him for all the memories he’s given me. I thank him for giving me the opportunity to experience all the romantic cliches girls long for. I thank him for all the genuine feelings he gave me. I thank him for respecting me. I thank him for doing what I didn’t have the balls to do. But most of all, I thank him for helping me realize that although he was a wonderful catch, he wasn’t what I wanted, needed, or genuinely liked. And finally, I thank him for putting in the effort to re-forge a platonic relationship with me.

After a year, I’m glad to have said that we tried, failed, and continue as friends. After a torturously slow, confusing, anxiety filled relationship filled with beautiful memories, I’m that much more of a person. After liking, hurting, getting angry, and finding peace, I’m that much wiser and glad for the experience.

D***d C****n S**g, you will definitely go down as my favorite bastard of all time.

Thank You.

Yet however fantastic I feel at the moment, I can’t help but fear for myself. I fear for the speed, grace, and nonchalance in which I arrived at these revelations. I fear that I actually have become as heartless as people think me to be. I fear that I’ve lost the ability to truly put my heart and soul into things. I fear that I’ve lost the genuine ability to like, love, and cherish with my heart, and not just my mind.

Especially in light of my last relationship; he was supposed to be different. My whole world shook when he looked at me. My mind went blank from pure joy when he hugged me. My brain ceased to function the moment he smiled at me. I could’ve lost everything I owned in a fire and still been insanely happy if he was the one comforting me. In short, my eyes were for him, and him alone. Yet here I am today, 4 days after we broke up, happy as ever and barely able to appreciate the pain in loss.

Truthfully, my heart and mind have never spent more than a week lingering on any broken relationship. I’ve never hurt or despaired over any relationship to the point where my heart hurt enough to cry. I mean, I’ve cried — God knows I’ve cried — but always in the name of hurt pride, the fear of loneliness, a lost relationship … never a broken heart. Hell, I’ve yet to experience a broken heart since I’ve never opened up my heart enough to truly love anyone. Sure, at the time I believed the feelings I had were nothing but the purest feelings of like and love, but when the time came to separate it barely mattered.

Hence, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve either subconsciously never truly given my heart to anyone, or truly lost the ability to give my heart to anyone. Either way, it scares me. I, like every other stupid woman in this world, long to experience that powerful, moving love in which time and distance only serve to strengthen and tears and pain deepen. Hence, as a leading pessimist of the world, I fear my chance will slip through my fingers because of my heart’s callous indifference to the men that work for my heart.

But part of me is happy that things turned out this way, because now I know where we stand. I know what kind of relationship I’m in right now, and yknow what? It’s fine. It’s fine if we just eat, sleep, and fuck together. It’s fine if I just have to cut myself off emotionally from him. He, in his own words, “set the tone.” At least now I know, and we can just move on being the way we are. Or not. I’m not exactly sure at this point, but I guess I’m fine either way.

I’m not ugly, I’m intelligent, and I’m great in the sack. All this convinces me that in the end, I’ll be okay. I like this guy, I do. I really care about him, and when it’s good it’s really good. But I don’t know if I can be pulled through such emotional extremes anymore. Because when it’s bad, it’s really bad. I want to continue being with him, but if things end between us, it’ll be fine too. I guess I’ve just been put through a lot this year and now I’m just letting it all go. I’m just letting it all hit me at once, because my comeback will just be that much greater.

He does have a huge dick though.

Now, I work but it’s a regular 9-5 job, I get a steady paycheck, I’m happy with what I’m doing, I have a whole team to back me up, and I get to come home every day and shut my brain off. I found someone local that I care about, and don’t have to wait till 3:00 in the morning just to talk to him over skype. These days at 3:00 AM, I’m usually in bed with my lover, and I don’t need to keep my voice down for fear of waking my family. My very healthy sexual appetite can be sated without the use of batteries. My sorrows can be drowned in his shoulder, and not in the bottle of Patron stashed away under my bed.

I no longer feel like a burden to my parents – I pull my weight, and I handle my own affairs. I help my family out when I can, and I actually have real conversations with them because I’m not locked in my room all day with nothing to share because I’m not having any real experiences.

I’m not babysitting a bunch of socially retarded kids on the net, and I’m not wasting my time making myspace layouts for hordes of ungrateful brats. My work means something now, and my clients are filtered before they get to me. I don’t go through long periods of time wondering if I’ll become busy again, and therefore I don’t have to take the first client that comes through the pipe.

I guess what this post comes down to is… I’m happy. I’m fulfilled. Sure, there are days I want to rip my own trachea out because my clients drive me nuts, and my boyfriend can seriously act like the biggest dickhead in Orange County, but if I had to choose between this life and the life I was leading four months ago… the decision would be so easy.

My life right now rules.

V-Day, more commonly known as Valentines Day, is the special day each year where prospective and existing couples around the world make an active effort in displaying the love, affection, and gratitude each harbor for the other. Right? Wrong.

Fine, then lets try again.

V-Day, more commonly known as Commercialism Appreciation Day, is the profit happy 24 hours each year where the stupidity of humankind unite in perpetuating commercialism’s biggest joke through the purchase of ridiculously overpriced Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. Right? Wrong, but you’re getting close.

Last try.

V-Day, more commonly known as Single’s Awareness Day, is the not so secret annual conspiracy created for the sadistic of society’s pleasure through the forced realization of unintentional intimate isolation often followed by an acute increase in single’s suicide rates. Right? Bingo.

Yah digg?

Sure, I was pissed I didn’t get more of a reaction from him. If he had actually fought for me – that’s what would have kept me with him. But I realized after I talked to him for a second time last night that he always understood I deserved better than what he was able to give me emotionally. Well, he said as much.

“I always felt guilty that I couldn’t love you the way you wanted and deserved to be loved. I’m happy for you. Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet, but I really am happy that you’re moving on in life. I’ve been in love before, and I don’t think I can do it again. You deserve to feel that at least once in your life.”

When it came down to it… I was always going to be a 21 year old girl to him. He has always been looking out for me. He didn’t mind being with me if that’s what I wanted, and he doesn’t mind letting me go if it’s in my best interest. And I’m really just grateful that I had this companion, this partner… helping me for the past two years; helping me grow and being my rock to lean on in times of tragedy.

He’s my best friend. And I know that’s never going to change. He’s always going to be part of my life – watching and protecting me. I’m always going to be part of his. I’m always going to be here to support him. But he realized that this was an opportunity to put his own growth for the past two years to the test. He said he needed to stop depending on me and stand on his own two feet. I want to be there for that. I want to see him have the success he deserves in life.

Just as his slightly younger friend…

That’s all I had to say.

My two year anniversary with Joey passed this week. We went to Cheesecake Factory and had dinner. The food was alright, I didn’t finish it though. To tell you the truth, I had a lot on my mind that night and I probably could have been more attentive of him. I feel like an asshole right now. I’m supposed to goto his friend’s Super Bowl party in an hour, or at least make an appearance. I don’t even feel like going. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love my boyfriend, I do – very much so. Sure, he’s been a little dick-ish to me here and there, but that’s just how he is. That’s how he’s been for the past two years. Nothing has changed. And maybe that’s the problem…

I am moving out sometime in March or April, definitely. I think I’ve convinced him to move in with me, but only if he is financially stable on his end. Maybe that’s the change I’m waiting for. More commitment. Something to look forward to in the future. Some validation that the past two years have been for something… something other than mere companionship.

I’m torn right now. It’s stressing me out. Or maybe it’s just the late hours I’ve been working, barely getting 8 hours of sleep the entire week, accumulatively, and barely eating a full meal in over 4 days. Who knows?

I mean my freakin English professor acts like she’s doing us all a favor by gracing us with her presence during my English 100 final. It’s your fucking class, its your fucking job — learn to deal. If you had to wake up 1 hour earlier, for one day out of the WHOLE, ENTIRE semester — SUCK IT UP. We’re the ones fucking writing! And sure, maybe you were grading our final essays during that time, but woman, you’re doing no one a favor by grading them in that fucking mood. Seriously.

Then we’ve got my brother acting as if his world has been thrown into utter and complete turmoil because of a fucking group project. YOU’RE IN FUCKING 7TH GRADE. HOW FUCKING STRESSFUL CAN LIFE POSSIBLY BE?!?! I mean seriously! Learn some fucking coordination skills, do your homework, drag your ass to school everyday, and you’re covered! I did it. My sister did. EVERY FUCKING PERSON DOES IT. I fail to see why it’s so extraordinarily difficult for you.

Then there’s my father. Oh, my wonderfully, sweet sweet father. HA! I could pour out a flawlessly flowing essay, relating how fucking annoying this man is, on spot — but alas — I have finals to study for.

Then I’ve got stress from males, stress from finals, stress from the outcome of finals, stress from the upcoming SF trip, stress from the stress I’m going to get because I’m going on the SF trip, stress from my brother’s performance in school, stress from thinking about next semester’s schedule and classes, stress from covering for everyone, stress from being punk ass broke, and the stress of having so much fucking stress — it’s fucking endless!

So although my vacation technically starts in approximately 18 hours, I’m still fucking dying.

Why such hate? When a girl puts her neck out there, and makes the first move, you’re obligated to give some sort of decisive answer either way. You DON’T give them some ambiguous answer which sways both ways thereby stringing them along the whole 9 yards. I hate that. I refuse to be an “option” even if you’re my option. Conceited? I guess — but that’s the reality with me. If I ever DO decide to submit myself to that position, I better be the only fucking “option” at that moment. I have way too much pride to take this kind of crap from any guy, as innocent and good willed as they seem. I’m just not that nice of a person.

So once again, I request that you get your shit together before I truly get mad and decide I no longer want to be your “option.”

And as a final note,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRISH.