the weigh-in

I realized today that this silent war with “Lindy” (yeah, that’s right…all names have been changed in order to blah blah blah) is subconsciously stressing the shit out of me. (Touché, yea!, one for her.) Apparently, like it or not, I am going to have to evaluate the future of our friendship’s “happily ever after.” And as is typical with all major life-altering assessments, I am obligated to weigh my pros and cons.

PROS
--When she is a good friend, she is a great friend (when you read into this, I’m not quite sure which category this one is supposed to fall into)
--she’s fun to hang out with
--she makes me laugh
--she’s a good listener
--she helps me through shit
--we run with the same troop (i.e. we have a lot of the same friends)
--she always drives to the bar


CONS
--she undermines my self-esteem
--she has a volatile personality
--she’s not happy unless I act like her lap-dog, who she likes to keep on a very short leash
--she’s superglued to “Zadam” (don’t get me wrong, he is a good ape. And quadrapedalism is fun and fine, but for the love of the divine, once and a while exercise the bipedal skills evolution gave you! sheesh!)
--she’s a control freak
--she’s a banana thrower…she likes to start shit
--I’ve lost some fellow apes (and their respect) because I put up with her shit
--the drama…good divine, the drama


As you can see, this is one tough verdict. The truth of the matter is that being her pal stresses the fuck outta me. But on the other hand, she is one of my best gal pals and I miss hanging out with her. In reality, if this were a dating relationship, I would have dropped her ass a long time ago and never looked back. It’s amazing how little we will put up with from potential mates, but how much extra shit we overlook in the name of friendship. Perhaps a lot of this is my own fault…for not standing up for myself sooner and telling her to back the fuck off. Perhaps I should have been more assertive, more aggressive. Who knows…?

Upon hearing the tale, my pal “Violet” described Lindy as poison. I think Violet has a very valid point. Ultimately, being around Lindy kills me a little bit each day. But she is an addictive poison…I’m not saying I won’t have DT’s. But I guess, as with any poisoned relationship, you just have to know when to put your foot down and walk away.

one is the lonliest number

Gone are the days of productive independence that I gained and cherished post-Paul. I used to fill my days and nights…entertaining myself with paper writing, home décor rearrangement, and mindless movie watching.

I was motivated. I was moving. I was lonely.

And where am I now?........

Alone in my apartment. Writing?....no. cleaning?....no. rearranging?....no. watching a gripping movie?....nope, not even the one that’s two days past due.

I’m bored and I’m pouting about it.

New dude has come along and I have, with certainty, lost all means of independence. Perhaps it’s because I’m stuck in the Hub of Hell alone…no friends to call. Or perhaps it’s because I’m a latcher.

Latcher—one who cannot be by oneself when with another

I don’t want to be a latcher. Latchers are annoying. They drive you insane. Being in a relationship with a latcher is like wearing a spandex bodysuit that’s a size too small…all you can think about is pealing the damn thing off so you can breathe a bit. “Get off me”…”Get a life”…and “GO AWAY’ are the only words that resound in your head when with a latcher. Latchers are terrible.

Now that said….I was going to force myself to be productive and at least clean my bedroom. I was actually on my way….until a pal knocked on my door and asked me if I wanted to join in on some billiards and adult beverages. So while not being independently productive, I at least can go have a bit of fun tonight. I can say I did more than mope while new dude is out of town. And by not moping I can reassure myself that I am in fact not a hideous latcher. I can’t be. I can’t be because I AM GOING OUT TO HAVE SOME FUN WITHOUT NEW DUDE DAMN IT!

…unless of course, I am latching on to my pals…………….shit.

ms. bitchalicious

it's a beautiful day outside and i'm in a fairly foul mood.
this is most likely ode to the fact that it's mardi gras and all my friends are partying their asses off while i'm stuck here in the Hub of Hell.
there are things i could be doing today. productive things. like cleaning my apartment before the health department pays me a visit and shuts me down. i could rearrange my bedroom so that i have a square inch in which to walk (crawling across my bed in order to reach the other side of the room just isn't cutting it for me anymore). i could be sorting through mounds of unworn clothes that i have accumulated over the past 10 years and donating them to goodwill so that i can hang the 5 shirts i do wear in my closet. or i could visit walmart so that i don't have to endure another meal of raman noodles and tunafish. or (best of all) i could be a responsible student and work on a paper or two.
but i've already made excuses for all of these things: lack of motivation, lack of funds, broken neck, etc.....
thus, it looks as though i'm doomed to waste yet another day of my life due to laziness.
i guess you just have to work with what you're given.

they always come in 3's

...and in no particular order....

problem 1: the best pal break-up
recently one of my best pals had an overload of stress and went all pompeii on my ass. not cool. the reason why is understandable...she's under alot of stress....i'm under alot of stress...everyone's under alot of stress. but her behavior is inexcusable. she has been an utter bitch for the last month....well, honestly she's been a bitch for the 4 years i've known her, but this last month has been absolutely intolerable. don't get me wrong...when she's a good friend, she's a great friend. but when she looses her shit she's hard to handle. plus she's a bit harsh on the self-esteem, even on a good day. but i've been friends with her for a long time. we've been through some rough shit. and for four years i've always taken the moral high ground and sucked it up, let it roll off my back and told myself "that's just how she is." now.....i just can't do that anymore....i can't make any more excuses for her or her behavior. i'm not a fighter....i believe that one must choose her battles. i don't like to flex the bitch muscle. but i think it's time i stand up for myself...thus, this is a battle i must fight.

but how do you do you break up with one of your best pals? especially one you have to work with too? since the blast, we've run into each other twice...both time a little awkward but civil. and to make matters more complicated....i'm supposed to be her maid of honor in her wedding which takes place in 4 months. well, i was. don't really know what's going to happen. i don't really know what to do. what to say. how to end it. how to save it. how do you break up with a best friend?


problem 2: about a boy
it's inevitable that in my life, i will always find exactly what i want. unfortunately for me, it's always exactly what i can't have. i don't think i'm one of those "want what i can't have" type people...rather i think i'm just a product of bad luck.

the boy. mmm. awesome. everything i've always wanted. and there is definitely interest from both parties involved (well, maybe not the third). but the situation is complicated. i swore i'd never do this to myself again, but here i am. i have no regrets. i'm just confused. and a little frustrated. and my best friend in the whole wide world (not the aforementioned pal) is being completly unsupportive. she keeps calling me naive and stupid. she's just looking out for me. maybe she's right. but i hope she's wrong.

i feel like i'm playing the waiting game. waiting for the tide to turn in my favor. they say good things come to those who wait. but how much time should one invest in the "good thing" waiting room?


problem 3: the goddamn thesis
i have one month to finish my thesis if i want to graduate this semester. i have yet to complete my proposal. yet to defend my proposal. yet to write my thesis. yet to defend my thesis. it has to be at least 80 pages. i have less than 20.

damnation.

i have lost all interest in writing said thesis. i don't give a shit about said thesis. i'm tired of thinking about said thesis. i wish said thesis would fucking write itself.