Monthly Archives: April 2009

Judgement

Last night I re-added GamerBoy to my friends on Myspace (it’s possible I de-friended him about year ago for being overly cheeky… my, how times have changed!) And now he wants to, as the kids say, hang out. So immediately (and laughably) I am freaking out. Seriously. You don’t even want to know.

This will be because I hate this part. You know, the part where I feel compelled to obsess over every single little thing I don’t like about him, in an attempt to convince myself that any further contact would be a bad idea? Yah… Wait, I don’t do that. (Yes I do.)

First -It’s his name. I don’t like it. I’m not actually going to tell you what it is (though if we start seeing more of each other I will probably have to think up a good fake name…), but let me just say that it’s, well, not sexy.

Second – It’s the ADD. He’s very jumpy at times, and while that can be cute, I don’t exactly need a guy who’s going to be jumping all over me. I’m finicky, and just a little too tightly-wound… I need someone who can, shall we say, take it slow.

Third – He skateboards. Okay?

Fourth – He’s, like, so California. He even has a tan. And says the word “dude”… a lot. (Yes, okay – I know I do it too, but I am being ironic!)

And fifth – I can just tell he’s not… *sigh*… “The One.”

But he does amuse me. And I do like seeing him.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be this hard.

Maybe we can just hang out. Maybe I can just be clear. Maybe I can have a guy friend… who thinks I’m cute… and nearly has a fit every time I wear a skirt… Damnit. That’s not going to work, is it? Unless I want to be like… a string-thing. (or would the fact that I’d be stringing him along make him the string thing?)

I don’t know. It’s possible I am just bored. And that is no good reason to start dating someone. Unless I really, really want to be a bitch. Which, incidentally, I don’t.

Ugh. Life.

(Just kidding! I promise you I am not that cynical… anymore!)

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Just the Two of Us

Another curse/blessing of working in Touristville? Lots of time to daydream. Today, my daydream centered on that very special topic called “my dream life”, or rather “my dream life with my dream boy.”  Here’s a look at what I came up with:

(To be clear: In my dream, we will have everything we need and more – not just because we have each other, but also because in dreams you don’t have to worry about money… you know, because they are dreams!)

In my dream,

We will dress in costume everyday… unless of course, we are in the mood to stay in our pajamas and slippers and things.

We will dance spaztically to all our favorite songs, every morning (… and afternoon… and night.)

We will read tea leaves and play with cootie catchers (dirty ones!) and read Shakespeare out loud, and with gusto! And with very little understanding of what we’re actually saying, probably, but with passion and fervor, goddamnit!

We will stay indoors for thirty days – because we can!

He will teach me how to play things like World of Warcraft, and I will teach him how to laugh at absolutely everything.

We will have a little mutt or a black cat named Pandora.

We will spend hours in bed, just talking and dreaming… when we aren’t doing the other thing, naturally!

We will sing constantly (well, a lot anyway), creating ballads out of thin air – singing our thoughts rather than saying them.

We will watch movies both ridiculous and amazing. We will know all the lines to the Flight of the Choncords songs, not to mention the dialogue. We will fall asleep watching re-runs of Lost in Space.

We will do everything the Nerve.com books tell us to.

We will throw costume parties every month, or every other month, or… a lot! We will have a disco ball and we will all dance like total lunatics, to music we actually like!

We will travel the Earth. We will go to bustling cities and deserted corners of forgotten islands. We will go to places of origin, places of culture, places of sheer madness. We will go wherever we want, whenever we want.

We will go everywhere together. Stay anywhere together. Always have each other. Love each other. Want each other.

We will be madly in love.

And someday, we will have two little girls who we will call Pippette and Theony, and maybe a boy called Aro. We will give them everything they need and teach them everything they need to know, and more than that. We will teach them how to extract the most possible joy out of life, out of every single day. We will teach them how to love, how to be loved, how to be patient and strong, how to admit to mistakes, ask for forgiveness, forgive and be forgiven. We will teach them how to laugh. We will teach them how to learn.

But before that, we will just exist together, in everything and through everything.

Just the two of us.

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Don’t tell anyone!

Dear Diary,

I have a secret.

It’s really, truly terrible… so terrible in fact, that I can barely stand to tell you about it. (So don’t tell anyone, OK?! I mean, don’t tell anyone if, on the off-chance that you are like Riddle’s journal, you actually do have that power.)

Okay, here it is…

I think I may have low self-esteem.

I know, I know! Low self-esteem?! What the hell? I thought we were banning that word, not to mention everything it stands for! Yes, yes – so did I.

But today, as I was attempting to fight off the boredom that necessarily accompanies just about every single day at work, I found myself in a rather low emotional state. Of course this would be because my hair didn’t look right, my work shirt makes me look about 3 sizes bigger than I am, etc. (or maybe just because I am a girl, and we are cursed), but all of a sudden it hit me… I may just be one of those girls.

You know, the girls that somehow wind up thinking they look fat and unattractive even though everyone they know would tell them otherwise? The girls that subsequently become convinced that they are boring and expendable and that because of this they will never find true love? Yeah, well, as ashamed as I am to admit it… that is actually exactly how I felt today.

Which is ridiculous.

I mean, how did this happen?! I’ve been so busy trying to talk my friends out of their self-esteem issues that it didn’t even occur to me to be on the lookout for my own! If I think about it though, they have always been there… I just chose to ignore them. And for good reason. Because being aware of these things, though enlightening, is a real pain in the ass!

And it’s not as if I can blame anyone either… these issues are my own, and only I can defeat them! Though, like anyone, I find myself looking for validation… and thinking truly heinous things, such as “Maybe if I just lose some weight/ grow my hair out/ buy better clothes, I won’t feel this way anymore.” But I know better. My appearance is not the problem. The problem exists within my mind. The problem is not in how I am viewed by the world, but in how I choose to view myself. The problem is in failing to see my own value. The problem is in letting there be a problem in the first place!

So really, dear diary, it is up to me. I am the only one who is judging myself this way, and I am the only one who can put an end to this judgement. I must be stronger than this. I must be stronger than this for myself.

And, right – I must not think that having a boyfriend would solve any of this…

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Filed under Appearances are(n't) everything

Skipping

This is what happens when I don’t do Slutty Sundays

Yesterday,  I decided not to write any slutty fiction, pose any slutty questions, or be metaphorically slutty in any way. I made this decision based on the fact that I was exhausted, I had to go to work, and I really couldn’t be bothered. (Also, the fact that my mom suggested to me that “my mind was not in a good place” may or may not have had something to do with it!)

Apparently though, skipping it was a bad idea.

It was around 6pm, my co-worker had left for the day, and there was really nothing to do in the store except stand around and wait for possible customers. So, naturally, my mind began to wonder. But not just in the usual way. This time, as I stood behind my register, eyes drifting lazily out the open door, I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming image of a very carnal nature.

It wasn’t of anyone specific, just a tall, dark-haired man who was suddenly doing various unmentionable things as he pressed me against a wall, or lifted me on to the counter, making my pulse quicken and giving me one of my all-time favorite feelings in the whole wide world… that I know of!

But the thing is… I was at work. I was trapped. I had to stop!

A few of you may recognize my frustration from this tweet, which was my only means of venting while remaining at my post:

“Oh god, I think I am beginning to lose it… again. Have started having “day dreams” at work. Must. Be. Normal!”

This is getting out of hand.

Maybe next time I will remember that skipping Slutty Sundays = uncomfortable sexual takeover of the mind at worst possible moment.

Right, never again. Promise… maybe!

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Filed under Lust, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

Sorry, We’re Closed

Slutty Sundays has been cancelled due to extreme fatigue and general laziness.

Be back soon….

Until then, have a good rest of the weekend!

(And here’s hoping I don’t completely lose it at work tomorrow! Seriously, these so called tourists are driving me crazy. You know, even more so than usual.)

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Vampire?

Last night I had a dream that Chuck Bass was a vampire. Which, if you have ever seen Gossip Girl, is really not that far-fetched. (Gorgeous, hypnotic, intoxicating, venomous – check, check, check, check.)

There was even a moment in the car where I was just about to suggest he put on his seat-belt, ontly to remember that being a vampire, he didn’t exactly need one. (Hello – Immortal?)

Unfortunately, I can’t exactly recall every single detail of said dream, but I do remember that we were being chased by something or someone, that it was dark out, and that the sexual tension was… Mmmm…

Oh, and one other thing I remember? I woke up before anything dirty could happen.

Stupid. Effing. Alarm. Gaaahhh!!!!

*Smash, bang, stomp*

So I guess I will just have to content myself with delicious little clips such as these:

See you all tomorrow for another edition of Slutty Sundays!

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Filed under Gossip Girl = Love, Lust, Random, Twilight

Blockage

Last night I tried, unsuccessfully, to get in touch with an old friend. I had heard, through my mom’s informing me of a brief conversation she’d had with said old friend’s mom, that he was not in a good place right now… personally speaking.

Being the amazing life-long friend that I am, I decided to ignore the fact that we haven’t spoken in about a year and send him a text.

“Hey stranger! It’s been a while, how are you?”

A few minutes later, I got this response:

“Who are you, I want answers.”

So he still hadn’t added my new number to his phone. Fine, I was over it at this piont (or at least over it enough to pretend to be over it), so I bit back the resentment and responded casually

“It’s Amber, you goon! I would be mad at you for failing to add me to your phone, but it’s honestly too much effort. So you get off easy this time!”

No response. A good ten minutes passed, or longer, I don’t remember… enough time, anyway, to inform me that he would not be responding. I was just about to mentally move away from the situation, contended that I had at least tried… but I was on a mission. In the past, I would have been too offended to be able to keep talking to him, to throw my pride under the train and run with it. But things had changed. I no longer felt about him the way I once did. It no longer mattered what he thought of me, so I tried again.

“So… how are you?”

“Good.” He replied. “Mastering hop-skotch down J street.”

“Nice.” I said, remaining light and breezy. “Have you fallen yet.”

“Very nimble.” He answered. “What’s up?”

Hmph. He knew me too well. Light and breezy were never really my thing and, well… it had been a year.

I fretted over my response for a couple of minutes. Was I really just going to offer him the proverbial shoulder to cry on, with no reason that he knew of to offer it? No, I thought. Better not. If there’s one thing that annoys the crap out of me when I’m going through something, it’s random people wanting to “help”. So I deflected. I decided to ask him for something instead and, looking back, to paint myself the way I saw him in my head.

“Right. So listen, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me using you as a sounding board sometime. It’d be nice to talk to someone who isn’t involved in my life.”

Response:

“Why talk to someone not in your life? Why not someone close to you? I’m not adverse to talking to you, but I’m just curious. It doesn’t make sense.”

No, it did not. Especially as I had no real desire to talk to him about anything.

“Yah,” I said “I dunno.  You may be right. It was just a thought.”

“What was the thought?”

He asked, and just as I was about to  respond, fired off another text:

“Like, the exact thought before you sent me a message. Be honest.”

Okay, so he had caught me. Clearly, I was not going to be able to manipulate him into letting me give him what I thought he needed. It had been a while since anyone had called me out on being unintentionally false. It was strange, but in a weird way, kind of nice. I could tell the truth, I was being left no alternative.

“OK” I conceded “In all honesty, I heard you weren’t doing that great. I realized it had been a while, so I thought I would check in. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” He replied.

After that, he asked me what had been said, why I was attempting to, as he put it “play archeology.” I told him what my mom had said, and informed him that the reason I was asking was because I “still considered him a friend, and not out of some strange desire to get the dirt on his life.” His reply was loaded, strange, and poetic. So much so, that at first I thought he was quoting a song. When I asked him, he said that he wasn’t.

“I can’t decide if you’re caring or crazy. Like some lazarus leaning warily at the edge of a tomb. Should I make my presence known? Too late or too soon?”

I asked him whether or not he wanted to talk. Told him that “too late or too soon”, it didn’t really matter.

But he didn’t respond.

I quite literally felt the moment pass about five minutes after my parting text. I knew he would not respond.

But this time, I had tried my best.

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