relationships

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Similarities and Differences

November 8, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

I’ve been reading a lot of the old posts of the Pervocracy (reading them in order, but I’m only on July 2008) over the last few days and realized how similar, yet different Holly and I really are. Ever since I started reading her blog, I’ve been saying how similar we are, but I’ve realized over the last few months of entries I’ve read that we are decently different too. I had never thought that her want to be dominated would ever bother me, considering I want the same thing, in a way and I also enjoy dominating, but sometimes she can take it a bit too far.

The main reason I say all this is that she fantasizes of being raped/beaten (it’s hard to explain here, but she means it in a controlled, someone-she-can-trust way, not the stranger-with-malicious-intent way). The problem I have with that is my personal past. I’ve been raped. Repeatedly. Mostly within a relationship that I was too weak to get myself out of until several months of this had happened, but luckily I eventually did get out of it. I can’t imagine fantasizing about being raped, considering I’ve already had it done for real. Holly does talk about rape a lot and that she doesn’t approve of it and she touches on all the feminist issues surrounding it, but still. Meh.

Anyway though, besides that bit, Holly and I still have plenty in common when it comes to tastes in men and our activities with them. Meeting her in real life would be pretty cool actually, but I’m not hitting Seattle anytime soon.

Side note: It’s really hard to write a blog while watching How I Met Your Mother on the DVR. Commercials must be skipped on principle!

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Boobs McGee is Visiting

November 6, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

Oh I’m sorry. The party that I had to throw at the last minute had very few attendees and didn’t get crazy and out of control. I thought you had fun. I know I did. Well I thought we did. You said you did. Fucking liar. Tell Boobs McGee and not me, when I’m your fucking girlfriend, not her. What the hell?! Luckily I held back the tears.

I knew this was going to end badly. AngryGinger better get here soon and save me. Hopefully. Ugh.

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Coddling the Uncoddleable

October 28, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

It’s been a pretty ridiculous week. My usual Tuesday night escapades were enhanced by the addition of Joker and London. She’s Joker’s new girlfriend. I like her a lot and really hope it works out between them. She and I have only hung out twice but already we’ve become close. They joined me for karaoke and were going to bring AngryGinger and Irish, but as is the usual, that failed. We had a pretty great time just the three of us though. And it allowed me to talk with them about things I would be unable to if Irish were present. Since none of us had to be up early the next day, we stayed all night and partied and danced. Joker even got up there and sang. I was ecstatic. We were still a bit foggy when we left at 1am, so I suggested we walk to Sheetz and get subs. It’s only 10 blocks. Well they got halfway and wanted to turn back, swearing it was more than the 10 blocks I’d claimed. I then explained that 10 blocks in my town is not the same as, say, DC blocks, which are distinct and uniform (hah). But it was less than a mile and the military should’ve hardened Joker for that sort of thing. Admittedly though, even I was cold on the way back after getting foods. And I was wearing my leather coat. We parted ways when we returned and I went to my parents’ house to sleep off the booze.

At about 330am, my phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number and the half-asleep me didn’t answer it. Turns out, the number was for the hospital and it was Irish calling me. I woke up again at 530 and saw the voicemail message. He had dislocated his shoulder in his sleep and took an ambulance ride to the hospital. Apparently he called because he knew I’d be upset if he went to the hospital and didn’t tell me. Well that’s the least I’d be. So it was a good call on his part. Of course my first course of action was to call the hospital and locate him and find out his condition. He wasn’t there. He had been discharged not 15 minutes before. So I texted him, surprisingly got a response, and was informed he was home safe and in pain, but fine and was not going to work because he would need a ride and I was an hour away.

I freaked out a bit, to say the least, but in reality I knew he was okay and that if he needed me, he’d let me know, right? Oh, the lies I tell myself. I told him I’d try to get home earlyish to take care of him later, hoping to stay true to it.

Well, as is the norm, things got crazy and I didn’t get home til around 630. I walk in and he’s on the couch, shirtless, and has the most complicated looking sling I’ve ever seen. The look on his face said it all. He was miserable, tired, hungry, and just all around torn up. I could tell he needed some attention, but didn’t want to dote on him since he hates that. That didn’t last long.

We ordered pizza for dinner since he could eat that with one hand and I set him up with an ice pack and anything else he needed. Then he says to me, “you’re gonna have to drive me to work tomorrow.” Which, first off, was not a request, it was an order, and secondly, way to assume I’d do that. Well I would. And I did.

I drove him over an hour to work then came home, waited til 4, then drove back to pick him up and brought him home.  The next day, he didn’t have work because he was getting laser eye surgery, right next to his office. So I had to drive all the way back again. Then the next day for a followup consult. The surgery made it so that he was even more hopeless helpless and I had to continue to wait on him, hand and foot. Not that it was that bad, since he slept most of the time. I had already planned on baking him a cake to celebrate his new eyesight, so I did that while he was asleep. However, I realized I’d hard boiled all the eggs I bought and had to get some from Gunnie, as he was the nearest friend and I didn’t want to leave Irish alone in the house with one arm and no eyes. Well, Gunnie talks a bit loudly, and he hung out to chat for awhile, which meant that Irish woke up earlier than I expected and caught me mid-cake-baking. He wasn’t all that thrilled it seemed, but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever seen him thrilled for anything. Or even all that excited. The most excitement I’ve seen from him was because of his eye surgery, and that’s because he was fixing something that he’d been dealing with for about 20 years. I wish he’d get excited for anything involving me…sigh…anyway, that’s not the point I was making. Granted, after I had taken the cake out of the oven, he kept asking if he could have a piece, but it had to cool off before I could frost it and then cut him a piece. He seemed pretty happy about it though. Over the next few days, he occasionally said in the cutest, most helpless voice “Can I have a piece of cake?” even if it was for breakfast. And yes, I gave it to him. I gave him anything he wanted all weekend and then some. Of course, I also had to take what I wanted from him, refuting his “but I don’t think I can do anything without it hurting”. I proved that to be wrong. Heh. Anyway…

Monday rolled around and I drove him to/from work again, but told him I couldn’t do it Tuesday/Wednesday since I’d be at my mother’s house working on my halloween costume. He almost freaked a bit, and I said “Look, if I didn’t think you were capable of driving yourself, I wouldn’t make you or even let you do it.” So when he got in his car on Tuesday morning and drove off without me, I knew I’d been right. Otherwise, he would’ve come back to make me drive him. Right? Again  with #theliesitellmyself. I texted him later and he said he was alive, which was not what I wanted to hear, but it was acceptable, and meant that he managed to get there unscathed and it wasn’t an issue. So I was off the hook, right? Nope. I forgot that he has to go back for another post-op consult on Saturday morning, which means I’m driving to DC again. Joy. Then another at 30 days. Why he can’t just do these on his lunch break, I have no idea. It took literally about 10 minutes.

Oh well, at least he gave me some gas money to compensate. Though I did inform him that he owes me serious lovings when he stops being injured and that he’s still backlogged for missing the wedding ceremony. He doesn’t understand why that’s such a big deal to me, but I can’t really explain it to him well enough. I mean, I wanted pictures of us together, I wanted pics with the happy couple, I wanted him to see me walk down the aisle, and I wanted to catch his eye when he first saw me, seeing his reaction to my temporary beautifulness. I didn’t get any of that. When he finally did show up, he was so frustrated with traffic and the whole situation, that all he could say was “you look nice”. What the hell is that?! I’m in a $300 dress, with $150 of hair and makeup, and all you can say is I look “nice”?! Ugh! I have not been called “beautiful” by anyone besides my parents and family friends. Never a boyfriend. What is wrong with this picture? I mean, I’m not ugly, from what I can tell. I’m no supermodel, but I’m not ugly. He repeated says “you’re very pretty,” but does it in a very derogatory way, while patting my head. Just once, I’d like to be beautiful.

I even talked to him recently about his lack of affection toward me, and that he’d done a few and it always makes me melt, so why not do it more. The response I get: because if I did it all the time, it wouldn’t be special. What?! It shouldn’t be “special” it should be normal. Dealing with him is like pulling teeth sometimes, I swear.

And yet, I put up with all of this crap and more, all because I love the boy. I must be the best girlfriend in the world.

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For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

October 15, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

They toll not for me. My brother got married this weekend. It was a beautiful ceremony and I was a bridesmaid, so I was made up all girly and prissy. It was weird, but awesome. The event lasted all weekend and was quite a huge deal. I’m very impressed with how it all came together so well and, as I told the happy couple, I couldn’t have thrown a better wedding myself. It was everything I could have imagined and more. I told my brother at the reception that I’m very proud of him. He was confused and asked me why. I smiled, saying “if my big geeky brother can find true love and happiness in this world, it gives me hope that I can too”, then sipped my champagne and just grinned. It was nice to have a brother/sister moment there. I think it also gave him a clue to my uncertainties about my status with Irish, but also my hopes that it’ll work. Honestly, at this point I can’t say for sure either way of how I think it’ll go. I’m just going with the flow. But back to the wedding stuffs, here’s a breakdown of the weekend.

Saturday – Rehearsal/Dinner:
We parked at the Rusty Scupper then walked up to Federal Hill to do a run-through of the ceremony. I finally found out which of my brother’s friends would be walking me down the aisle and when we did our rehearsal walk, we both started strutting with this silly walk, with no prompting or collaboration at all. It was pretty amazing. We both were giggling about it afterwards. Dinner was at the Rusty Scupper, which sounds terrible, but was actually pretty good.  Open bar and good crab soup. And then chocolate fondue for dessert. So full of win. Except for the fact that the fondue fountain got way too hot and burned the chocolate. But oh well. Twas still good.

Sunday – Prep/Wedding:
Woke up around 7 to go to breakfast at Miss Shirley’s Cafe. The selection there was amazing, but I just wasn’t that hungry. I ended up with sweet tea(with a sprig of mint), Cinnamon Danish pancakes, and bacon. Ate about half the pancakes before I just couldn’t do it anymore. It sucked a bit because I’ve learned that to me, pancakes are like Chinese food – I get hungry again an hour later. And it messes with my stomach too. Which on a day where I am going to be in a wedding and outside and nowhere near civilization for awhile… sucks. And it did. I felt fluky all day, but was also hungry. I ended up grabbing a slice of pizza that the boys ordered, even though it was after the girl did my makeup.

I finally got my hair done, then the hairdresser said I looked like a movie star. Meh. I did look pretty good I guess. After prettying up and getting dressed, we did pictures all around the hotel, then piled into the limo to head to the ceremony. It was beautiful. My escort and I joked quietly about the strut walking, but decided we shouldn’t do it for the actual ceremony. Hearing my brother’s vows made me cry though. I had no idea he was capable of such strong emotion. Just… wow. The geekyness was definitely there too, because there were a lot of video game references and such. Very cool.

After looking around the entire ceremony, I got my phone from my father and found out that Irish had not made it. In fact, at the time of the ceremony’s start, he had given up trying to find the hotel to catch the shuttle and had gone back home to get better directions. I lost it. It was the most beautiful wedding ever, and I was all dolled up, and I really wanted him to see it, and I wanted to get pictures taken with him. And none of that got to happen. I texted him back, saying that it was over and that cocktail hour starts at 7, so be there. By the time we got back to the hotel and I had a glass of wine in my hand, I felt a bit better, even though I still had no confirmation of his status.

Around 7:15, he showed up. I took him around and introduced him to my family and friends. He hated it, of course. But the free beer and snacks seemed to placate him slightly. The loud music was really bugging him, which I had apparently tuned out, since I didn’t notice it til he mentioned it. Then when I told him it was time for dinner, but that he wouldn’t be sitting with me, he got huffy again. There was nothing I could do about that though. There wasn’t enough space at the bridesmaid table for him to eat there, but he did get seated with my cousins, who he had just met and with whom he had sorta hit it off.

We lined up in our bridal party order and made our entrance. My escort and I once again strutting and being silly, this time while carrying champagne. Delicious. The happy couple did their first dance to Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars”, which coincidentally we had heard at breakfast that morning. It was beautiful. Then we headed upstairs for dinner, which for me consisted of caesar salad, filet mignon and scallops,  and more champagne. The filet was tiny as hell and I knew that Irish was going to end up complaining about it later, since I signed him up for that too. Which he did. The scallops were odd tasting, so I didn’t bother to finish them. I went straight to mingling and getting more booze.

When I walked over to the table with Irish and my cousins, the first thing my aunt said to me was something about asparagus pee. We had watched an episode of Good Eats where Alton Brown was talking about it, and apparently Irish had decided to talk to them about it. So weird. Within the next few minutes, my cousin had coerced me into drinking a cable car, some sort of orangey martini, and turned into a huge enabler, telling me to drink more, though I clearly didn’t need it.

The father/daughter and mother/son dances started, so we watched them from the balcony. I was recording them, but apparently my phone’s memory was full and it didn’t save the longer of the two recordings, which sucks. Especially since there wasn’t a videographer at the wedding, just photographers. Hopefully they got some good shots though.

Then came the dancing. I actually got Irish to dance with me. I was very surprised and honestly, after the stunt he pulled by not showing up to the ceremony, he owed me. Plus, I had already forcefully requested that he dance with me at some point in the night. We did some fast dances, rocking out and being silly, then took a break for awhile, grabbed another drink and chilled on the couch a bit. I got up a few times to mingle and dance randomly, but Irish just stayed on the couch. At the end of the night, I finally grabbed him and got him to dance again, then a slower song came on, although it was “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. We did the classic middle/high schooler arms-around-the-neck, swaying dancing. He was trying to move his feet to dance us around in a circle, but I was entirely too drunk at that point to be able to maneuver that and told him to just stand and move. I vaguely remember assaulting him on the dance floor with makeouts. In front of my parents. Ugh. But thankfully my mother has no recollection of it, or just didn’t mention it if she did.

Irish and I ran up to my parents’ hotel room real quick and I got changed and grabbed my stuff to go back home, leaving my parents to have the room to themselves and that way I’d be there to wake Irish on time in the morning. We wandered back downstairs and said our goodbyes to those who remained, saying we’d see them at brunch. I also vaguely remember a conversation with Irish that was basically “Am I coming home with you or staying here?” and after getting no real response, saying bluntly, “Will I be getting sex tonight if I come home with you?” Even though the answer was “no” because he was too tired, I still wanted cuddles. Not that I got them. *harumph*

Monday – Brunch:
Woke up roughly on time and got myself ready before hauling him out of bed to do the same. We were at brunch by 1030, so only an hour late, and there was still plenty of food. Bacon, sausage, french toast, eggs, potatoes, fruit, juice, and coffee. Om nom. Worth the drive just for a free meal in my opinion.

We said our goodbyes and congratulations again, then came back home to nap, since we were both exhausted from the weekend and the early mornings. We didn’t end up doing a whole lot the rest of the day besides being lazy, but that’s what holidays are for.

It was a good weekend and I’m so happy for my brother and my new sister. Also, the date, 10-10-10 was perfect for the wedding. He should never forget the anniversary and it is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Plus, if he does forget, the next day, 10-11, is National Butt-kicking Day, so she’s got that to look forward to. Heh.

Well, this post took entirely too long to write over the course of a few days, but i’m finally heading to bed for the night. I’ll post more about my recent exploits tomorrow or Saturday.

Laters.

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To Build a Better Boyfriend

October 7, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

Grapple took me to Mongolian Grill today for lunch. Well, a late lunch. 2 o’clock really. But that was my bad, not his. He said he’d come pick me up at 2, but then showed up at 1:20 when I hadn’t gotten showered and ready yet. He called me lazy, but I had been doing chores and such all morning and was just about to jump in the shower when he showed up. Anyway, so we get there and realize their lunch stops at 230. We ended up not leaving til about 330 and they didn’t care. So I think I just found my new favorite place. And it’s only $10 for all you can eat lunch.

I had a really great time and it was great to catch up with Grapple after so long. Sure, we went to Rennfest together and hung out all day then, but we couldn’t talk freely about things. It’s always nice to talk to him because he listens to what I have to say and actually cares about me, which is more than I can say for some people I try to talk to. Sigh.

We hung out a bit longer and talked some more. But it was kinda sad how good it felt when he randomly reached over and hugged me at a red light. It just felt so warm and so much stress just started melting away from me, softening my shoulders and my heart. It was almost overwhelming. It made me realize how much I’ve been missing in my daily life. While Irish is getting better with the showing of affection, it’s not yet nearly enough to meet my needs. I keep forgetting that.

After he brought me home, we talked for awhile and I made him listen to Voltaire, since he had never heard it before. It was really great to just chill on the couch comfortably with someone who genuinely wanted to hear what I had to say. And who isn’t afraid to hug on me and stuff, knowing that it’s totally cool by me for him to do that. I’m a very friendly person and also a very physical person. I get the most satisfaction, emotion, and intimacy from physical closeness. Even with people that are just friends. I’m not afraid to admit that I love to cuddle. I love hugs and snuggles and being intertwined and just hanging all over each other for the hell of it. It’s because of this concept that Grapple and I have discussed how he is a better boyfriend, without being a boyfriend. He’s just that awesome of a friend. He and I operate under the same principle: give all you can. And that stays true no matter if the other is giving back an equal amount or zero. We both keep ending up with situations where we’re not receiving nearly enough in return to satisfy our wants and needs. Fittingly, we seem to have gravitated to each other to fulfill at least the hugging quotient that we both have.

Small amount of irony, when Irish got home I was doing dishes and when I finished up he walked by me and stopped, his face really close to mine, then leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. It was adorable and great. Don’t get me wrong, the huggings with Grapple were awesome and very much needed, but there was something missing that I couldn’t put my finger on. Apparently that was the intimacy bit I needed. Whether that’s because it was a kiss, or it was cute, or because it came from the boyfriend, I’m not sure. Regardless, it was nice.

10:30pm
So the reason I actually got to write a nice long post this time is because I’m actually using my laptop. It still sucks and I have the power cord taped to it just so it won’t come unplugged and die, but it’s still a full keyboard and not my iphone. Also, the boys played poker tonight and are finishing up now. Gunnie, Curly, Musicman, and AngryGinger came this time. It’s now down to Irish and AngryGinger. There’s talk of doing some Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock after this which I have mixed feelings about now. It’s getting kinda late and I’m tired. Wow, I feel old. Maybe I will play some GH then, just to spite myself. Heh. And now I’m having a conversation with myself, about myself, and about what I’m going to do in like 10 minutes, merely because I don’t want to do it. Ugh, that was a really confusing sentence to type. I don’t know if you, the Reader, caught any of that, but if you did, kudos to you and welcome to madness. Ahahahahahaaa! *maniacal hand gestures*. Um…ahem. Anyway…. I’m just waiting for the poker game to end.

Also, I know that Grapple reads this blog but I don’t know if he’s the only one so far. I had 8 page views yesterday and no comments were left so I have no idea. So basically, feel free to leave comments, I’d love to hear what you think. Though this is my ranting outlet, so I know most of the posting is negative in connotation, I hope to eventually be posting happier things.

“Yay we’re finally done, thank Christ!” – AngryGinger just now

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Bacholerette Weekend

September 23, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

So this past weekend was the bachelorette party for my soon to be sister-in-law. She’s marrying my brother. That’s kinda how these things work. They’ve been dating for 9 years and are finally getting married. I’m very supportive of their relationship and she is a really cool chick. I’m proud of my geeky older brother. I just hope that someday I can be as happy as they are together.

With regard to the weekend with the girls, we’re apparently not allowed to talk about it. What happens in Ocean City stays in Ocean City. Meh. Let’s just say it was a lot of fun, there was a lot of booze, and a bit of bonding by all us girls.

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Rennfest

September 5, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

We went to Rennfest today and I walked my feet off. I couldn’t find my newer hooker boots so I had to wear my old ones, which I replaced because they were painful to wear. So yeah, about 2 hours into the day I was in pain. The next 5 hours were just salt in the wound. Don’t get me wrong, the faire was fun but I just wish I hadn’t been dragging everyone down with my slowness of walking.

I feel bad about it, but it’s not like any of them cared about my pain nor were any sort of sympathetic. I would hope that my boyfriend would see that I was in pain and needed a little sympathy and caring. But no. Nothing. He just joined in on the insults and the being annoyed at me. The only person who gave a shit about me all day was Grapple, and he was a last minute random addition to our group who also ended up driving us to the faire. Since he actually cared, he hung back with me when I couldn’t catch up to the pack. He also helped me hobble around by being my crutch and catching me every time I was off balance. It was very sweet of him.

I just wish that Irish was that attentive. I mean, I really should be used to being ignored by now. He always does it. And so do Tinyfists and AngryGinger. Why do I have friends like this? My 2 best friends and my boyfriend, who I broke up a 2 year relationship to be with, don’t give a shit about me. What the fuck is wrong with me? I apparently have crap taste in friends. And I didn’t realize it until recently.

My friends that I go with to karaoke and everyone else from my hometown area are always so nice. I mean, we joke and poke fun, but it’s in good fun. And well natured. The people that I meet and make new friends with are the same way. So how is it that I ended up with 3 of the closest people to me being complete jackholes to me all the time? Guh.

But now I’m sore, my feet are useless and I feel like shit in general. I’m exhausted and no one cares. Oh and I have one picture of me from today, it was taken by Tinyfists and it’s still on her camera. She didn’t want to take more. So much for preserving memories and shit like that. Oh well. What else is new?

/rant in Eeyore style

Blar. With a big ol’ capital B.

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So Complicated

September 4, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

I finally went and picked up my bridesmaid dress yesterday. Thankfully there are very minimum alterations to be made. Don’t know where to take it for that, but I’ll figure it out. After picking it up, I took it over to my mom’s house for safekeeping, knowing it wouldn’t exactly be safe at our place. After killing way too much time at Mom’s and an unsuccessful search for my leather boots, I went to have my weekly chat with Blondie.

Luckily the kids were asleep when I got there, so we had a little peace and quiet for awhile. We started talking about our lives and as always, she asked how it’s going with Irish. The answer, in short, was that things are getting better. She is mostly concerned that I’m not being treated in the right way, or in the way I deserve. I had expressed to her before my need for affection and my distinct lack of receiving said affection, despite giving plenty. I’ve been trying to get him to open up to me, but it’s ridiculously difficult. My first thought is that some girl he dated in the past hurt him so badly that he’s shut himself off to everything. That wouldn’t be my fault, so that’s the good part. The other thought I keep having is that maybe he just doesn’t feel that way about me. I hate to think that. And I’m fairly certain it’s untrue. I mean, why let me be here so much if you don’t want me around? I understand that guys feel emotions differently than girls, but I also know that they’re capable of affection. There have been guys that I couldn’t keep off me because all they wanted to do was hold me or hug me or snuggle. Don’t get me wrong, I like that, but sometimes it becomes just too much. But I’m not asking for that. Things have been improving and I’m very glad and every time he does something sweet or affectionate, I get all warm and fuzzy. It’s great. And after talking to him about these things despite his avoidance of the topic, it seems he’s finally getting it. For example, he took my hand and held it while walking the mall last time we were there. Usually I have to initiate that. And he’s finally calling me ‘hon’ or ‘honey’ like I’ve been trying to get him to do for awhile. Granted it’s happened maybe twice, but thats better than nothing. I almost insist on not using his actual name, but calling him by affectionate pet names and such. It’s just something I do. Not sure why. I guess it’s kinda my way to express to someone how much I care about them, without outright saying ‘love’. And that works for me. I mean, I’m not nearly as closed up about feelings as he is, but I also don’t wanna go throwing around the L word. Although I have said it a few times to Irish, at first because I thought he wasn’t saying it since I hadn’t said it, but then because I just had no other word strong enough to express my emotions toward him. But I’m not asking for him to say it back. At least, not until he’s ready to. I’m just asking for simple affection. Nightly snuggles, hugs, random kisses (whether it be on the lips, cheek, forehead, hand, or whatever), calling me cute little names like ‘hon’ and ‘sweetheart’, randomly holding my hand, or even just little touches of reassurance like putting his hand on the small of my back or giving little backrubs like I do for him, or even a regular backrub for once would be awesome. Heaven knows that’s never happened. The reason I do most of the things I do is because I like them done back to me. I’ve always operated under the clause of “show me what you like and I’ll do that” but it seems to not be a universal understanding. I just don’t get it.

I give so much and don’t ask for much in return, so why is it so hard to get back one little morsel of the affection I give? I always put 100% of myself into something I like, but when I’m getting less than that much back, I’m always losing myself. I’d be ecstatic to get 50% of him, let alone all of him. But I want something. Just something. 20%, 10%, even 5% would be something. I mean, the way I see my life is “me against the world” and I want my relationships to help that so that it’s “you and me against the world” (very Scott Pilgrim I know). And if we both connect to each other completely, we can be an unstoppable force against anything. But if the relationship is weak or incomplete, then we’ll crumble. So why can’t he get that? Why won’t he a least try to be loving or caring? I understand he’s a manly man and manly men don’t show feelings and all that shit, but that’s dumb. You’re allowed to show a different part of yourself to your significant other. One that maybe no one else gets to see, but you still show it. Is that too much to ask?

Why are men so complicated? Guh. And they think we’re the complicated ones. Hah! Lies and slander.

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Catchup, Graduation, etc.

June 9, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

I realize that I haven’t written anything for awhile and I feel just awful about that. I was doing so well, hitting 10,000 words in only 2 weeks. Ah, well… such is life. Everytime I try to commit to writing with any sort of frequency I end up failing at it. Many things have actually been happening in the past few weeks which is why I haven’t had time to write(or at least that’s what I’m telling myself).

16th Washed/waxed cars with Irish
This was really fun, even if I did take a lot longer to do it than he did. I learned the purpose of the Mr. Miyagi wax on/wax off thing. It hurt after awhile, but was so worth it. I took a bunch of pictures with my phone and posted them on Facebook because I was so proud. It was a very bonding experience with my car and with Chris.

18th Senior Exhibition

19th Went for a run around campus
19th Duclaw
20th Helped Irish upgrade his car intake

Moved back home
By now I’ve gotten most of my stuff setup for living at my parents, but I’ve made it very clear to my parents that I’m only going to actually be at their house for a day or two each week, while the rest of my time will be spent at Irish’s house. I’m slowly organizing everything and going through my backlog of stuff from my whole life. I’m trying to cut ties to material things and get rid of the things I don’t need, but it’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. So many memories, so much attachment, and so much wasted money.

22nd Mini-Graduation party

23rd Pre-Graduation Dinner
We went to Longhorn steakhouse and Irish finally met my parents. The dinner seemed to go well enough. He was very chatty which surprised me. He made conversation with them very easily. Brother seemed to size him up a bit when shaking his hand, trying to gauge him. Seemed like he was comparing him to my previous boys and maybe seeing bits of himself reflected in Irish.

24th Phi Beta Kappa Inductions
Got there a bit later than intended because it took forever to get ready at Irish’s and then get to UMBC, all the while having to keep up the appearance that I had just walked over from my apartment.

24th Graduation
Was getting really stressed out for awhile and texted Irish while riding into Baltimore with my parents. He reminded me that it was almost over and to just relax. That helped a bit, but the real help and stress reducer was when I ran into Linguist and had a happy/jumping/girly/geeky thing together. We got some pictures together and then went inside. My spirits soared again when I saw Roguewhaler and the other Visual Arts people. The ceremony itself was long as hell, but I was very glad that I had actually done the PBK membership since Freeman mentioned it and we all stood up, getting extra recognition. After what felt like an eternity, it was the art department’s turn to file onto the stage to shake the big guy’s hand and have our pictures taken. After that, the rest of the ceremony is a complete blur and went really fast. When it was done, I tried to grab whoever I could for pictures, which I later uploaded to Facebook. I tried to set something up at the last minute to go out with buddies for food or drink, but it fell through. We did however, go to G&M Crab house, with me still wearing my cap, causing many people to ask about my graduation and eliciting many congratulations.

26th Modern Warfare 2 – Rrrranger Schoooool!!
28th Grades posted – 3 As and a B, woot!

Memorial Day weekend
30th Settlers of Catan playing
31st MetalChef’s place – basketball, water-pong, catchphrase, and zombies

1st kayaking with MetalChef on the river
1st Got the placeholder site up for Dale Corn
2nd-5th Tennessee

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Mortal Kombat

May 16, 2010 in Mindpieces | Permalink

When we got home yesterday, Irish loaded up Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe that we bought. He played thorough the entire story mode on DC and wouldn’t let me play. After fighting with Gunnie a bunch over the project, he offered me the controller to hit things, but he was playing as Joker and I didn’t want to use him. I went away again and ended up talking to Gunnie some more. Finally yelled at him too. By the time I came back, he was playing as Superman and didn’t want to give it up. He was finally on the boss fight and couldn’t get through it. That’s when he actually let me try. I beat him in 2 tries. It was awesome. Irish made excuses that the computer made it easier since he died so many times. I then felt compelled to post it on Twitter and Facebook. Hah.

He started the MK story mode even after I had said I wanted to play something else. I wanted to play some Halo, but he said he hates it. I don’t get that.

But now I’m apparently the girl I always hated. AngryGinger wanted to come over for some co-op and Irish showed me the text. I said exactly how I felt, which was a mistake. So he told AG that I want a quiet night, blaming me for it not happening and AG responded with *whipcrack*. My retort was “Since when do you do what I ask? And when do I even ask you to do anything?” The look on his face was indescribable, then I had the idiocy to say “If anything, you have ME whipped. It’s kinda ridiculous. I’m a disgrace to girls everywhere”. I tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t really work. Oh GOD why did I ever start being blunt and honest with him?! I’m so fucked.

I went back into the office and kept working and when I came back out he asked if I wanted to watch Castle. Maybe I can still salvage this night. I hope. I said, “Sure, lemme just finish what I’m working on.” He kinda scoffed at me and I’m not entirely sure why. I just brushed it off and went back to work, finishing up as I had said.

I came back out and waited for him to stop playing MK, all the while attempting to apologize for being a bitch and that I really don’t wanna be that girl. But no matter what I said, he still seemed put off by the whole thing. We were gonna watch Castle, but then saw that Pandora was on, which he said he always wanted to see, but that I wouldn’t because it’s horror. I asked what it was about, saying that we could try, but if I get too freaked out then I know better or next time. He seemed to be getting a bit exasperated with me at this point. So I tried to make him understand that if he wants to watch it, then that’s fine. I just might have worse night terrors than usual. The movie was good, a little creepy but not too much. I figured it was alright and I’d be fine, so it’s all good.

We went to bed and I took my shirt off to put on lotion, but didn’t take anything else off. I walked back into the bedroom and he was already stripped down and getting snuggled in for reading and sleep. I went to my side of the bed and got undressed the rest of the way. As I was taking off my pants, I bent over in what I was hoping was a slightly sexy way. Then I heard “Woo!” and just laughed to myself. “What’s woo, the book or me?” “You.” “Oh well I’m glad I’m ‘woo.’ You’re always woo.” I then began to rub and stroke him as I usually do when I’m trying to get him into the mood or at least trying to get him to know that I am. After awhile, he told me that he didn’t want to do it tonight and that he was still not feeling that great since he’s detoxing from the sleeping pills. So I just cuddled up behind him while he continued reading.

I started babbling on about things again and being girly, saying that he should just ignore the things I’d said at lunch, because I was being girly and that I blame the impending biology for the over-emotional and horniness. I ended up saying something about it being frustrating not knowing and he patted my hand, basically the cue to shush. We both turned over and began falling asleep, and I just said “I figure one of these days you’ll tell me and then I can stop agonizing over it” “What?” “I said I figure one of these days you’ll tell me how you feel.” “I’m tired.” “I mean about me, but I’m not asking for anything right now, it’s late.” It was very awkward and silent for awhile until I finally got into a comfortable position to go to sleep.

When I woke up this morning, I had actually slept through the night. He woke me up at some point with a terror, but it wasn’t that bad. For some reason though, I kept trying to call him Bryan or Brad, then my night vision finally realized it was Irish. When we were waking up, I started lightly rubbing and touching him again, hoping to stat something in the morning like what happened the previous morning. No such luck, but when he finally did start reading, I cuddled up to him. Then when he was done and about to get up, he kissed me on the forehead. It was adorable.

We got up and had meatball subs for lunch and he did some dishes, laundry, and cleaned the coffee table. Now he’s playing MK vs DC some more. I think we’re gonna wash our cars today, but I’m not sure. It’s why I didn’t get a shower yet, so I hope he realizes that. Oh wait… he’s a guy, so I have no idea. Sigh… Oh well. If we do wash cars, it’ll be neat. If not, I have to get a shower anyway to go to Gunnie’s at some point today.

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