Hooplah.Org

On Sunday, me and my father had agreed that we would go Christmas shopping together early on Monday morning. I had set my alarm clock to 7:30. Around 6 AM, my father was knocking at my door. I took a look at the clock, and saw that it was only 6. I thought for sure, being the worry wort that he is, that he wanted to wake me up now so we could leave earlier. So I tried to ignore him. But by the third secession of tapping, I rolled over and yelled “what!?” My dad opened the door, and just stood there. “My brother Bobby died this morning.”

I really don’t know either of my parent’s families. I wouldn’t recognize them if I saw them. My parents have just always put the extra effort in staying away from them. I had met my uncle Bobby, though. Once, that I can remember. In the summer of 98, when I was bowling on a league, he came up to me and introduced himself as my uncle. As all my relatives so, he talked about how the last time he saw me I was “this tall,” showing me with a comparison between his hand and the floor.

Looking at him, he didn’t look that thin. About as thin as my dad is. So I didn’t really think anything of it. It wasn’t until Bobby died that I heard he had lost a lot of weight to look like that. And before he died, he was said to have arms like pretzels. He had a lot of internal bleeding. Maybe it was from his drinking or how he smoked, but whatever was wrong, Bobby knew it. He stopped smoking and drinking three weeks before he died.

Causes of death, from what the family knows so far, was of internal bleeding. He was spitting up blood, literally. Something must have ruptured for that to happen. He choked on his own blood.

I feel bad that I don’t feel anything. I’m not grieving, I’m not morning… I’m nothing. The only real loss that I feel is not having known him. My dad had drug me out of bed to go to Bobby’s daughter’s house, because that is where everyone was meeting. I felt horrible… I was surrounded by all these people, great people, and I didn’t know who they were. All I could do was stay quiet. But they all were feeling like me. No one was crying, or really doing much of anything. They just sat around, talking about little nothings.

The viewing is today. But I will have to miss it, since I have to work today from 2:45 to 9:30. I really wanted to go to the viewing, because I doubt that I will be able to see him at the actual funeral, which is tomorrow at 2. I would take off work, but being that I’m taking off all next week while I’m in Kentucky, it might not be the best idea. On Monday afternoon, I went into town and picked out a nice navy blue-ish dress, and a coat to match. Maybe I’ll put a picture of me up with it on. Maybe.

Click on the image to the left to see a picture of me taken on this day. (pop-up)

Maybe it’s the pictures I have been adding to my journal messages that are drawing attention. Or maybe it’s that I actually have something to write about. Or maybe it’s something. But my site, my journal especially, has been generating a lot of attention. It’s amazing. Just when I thought for sure people must be fed up of this aging layout, everything turns around full circle. So, the pressure for a new, beautiful layout is on. I want something new by new years. Hopefully. Maybe. Possibly.

After I wrote yesterday’s journal entry, I waited patiently for Alan to sign on. When he did, I told him I wished for him to read it. And of course, a somewhat painful conversation unfolded. About how I want so much of only one thing, and how Alan thinks he may have failed as a boyfriend for giving me everything else under the moon except time with him. Which is all I’ve ever really asked for.

Though it upset Alan, it actually made me feel better to bring up some bad emotions. It made me feel as if I was being heard. And understood. But taking that route, of course, came on to the topic of breaking up. Sometimes, when I was left home alone, I did think about that. I thought about reasons why I should and should not. But obviously I was never able to really carry out a decision like that. No matter what I would be feeling. I would be even more miserable without him. And while I was talking to him yesterday, and having him hurt and acknowledge my pain, I was no more able.

I quickly tried to move on from the subject. He had already told me he would be forced into a lose/lose situation if he did like I wanted. Which means the problem will have to stay. I told him that I would have to work something out with myself. I doubt that will really ever happen. I told him that I knew if he thought he could do something, he would. So it is just my quiet problem again. But I’ve already chosen what I want to keep and what I want to risk.

There will no doubt be undertow from this for a couple of months. And this time it could come from either him or me. The problem is just dormant for now. Who knows when it will resurface again. Hopefully not soon.

Click on the image to the left to see a picture of me taken on this day. It’s of my new class ring. (pop-up)

I say so many things that carry all seriousness I am capable of, and they are brushed off as things that are not as quite important as events or jokes I participate in. As if they assume that I must be one of those anal people that no matter what I say, it all falls into categories of being pointless and insignificant. As if all I want is immediate reaction to what I’m saying at that moment, but otherwise it doesn’t mean that much to me.

And also. I hate it when there are things you can say is wrong, explain why it’s wrong, and scold others who do it, and actually be angry at them for doing it. But then when I am put into the same situation, no understanding of wrongness can make me not feel it myself. And then I feel ashamed in a way, and then I get even more so angry with the whole situation. Then I feel bad when it is obvious that something is wrong with me, and the person who is generating it is persistent on asking me what is wrong. And I can’t say, because it’s wrong. But I can’t stop myself from feeling it. And it hurts me more not to say.

I have asked Alan again and again not to leave me alone. If that means not going out with friends, it means not going out with friends. And that is, of course, where I am wrong. But no amount of reasoning can stop me feeling horrible when he’s gone. When I know he’s out having fun, and I’m home alone, doing nothing, because I didn’t plan anything during that time so that I could spend time with him. I don’t exactly stop my whole life at 6 because I need 5 hours for homework.

If there is anything that can make me change my feelings, or break promises, is when things I request are ignored. I don’t keep asking repetitively because I enjoy being a nagging little bitch. It has been because I didn’t want what is happening now. I can almost feel myself losing interest, losing feeling, and there’s no amount of convincing that can reverse that. I’ve tried. And this journal entry is the best way I can tell him. To answer any questions, because I can not pump out responses on the phone when I am upset like he’d like me to. By no means I do not want to lose him. But maybe this will help him understand what the phrase “breaking point” means. How I’ve been telling him and telling him I was close to it. And how I’m telling him now I’m falling off the cliff.

It’s just his decision now.

Click on the image to the left to see a picture of me taken on this day. (pop-up)

The picture for today isn’t exactly all that flattering, but I’ve had a stressed out evening. Nothing is really going like I wanted.

I have taken my Virginia state tests, the “SOL’s”, and I think I did rather well. Based on the fact the material that we had covered in the class I knew. The rest, a good 25% of the test, where questions I just might have well as tried to make little designs with the answer bubbles then try to answer then as if I know.

All this past week I have been able to eat on the same lunch shift as all of my friends. Tuesday and Wednesday it was because my English teacher wanted extra library time, so we had to flip our lunch from lunch B (after 3rd block) to lunch A (before 3rd block.) Thursday and Friday was because of the SOL’s, and the whole school had the same lunch shift, and it lasted 40 minutes. Almost just like it was my freshman year, and they had the 1 hour lunch that everybody went to. I miss having those sorts of things.

This evening I wanted to work on the flash I have planned on adding to my next layout of this site. Yes, it’s true; I’ve actually come to a decision on a layout. I was just getting frustrated this afternoon that I could not find a decent background sound to add to it. Sigh. I can’t really go into all that much detail about it. I want it to sort of be a surprise, or whatever.

It also seems that there has been an increased number of people who like the layout of this website… And though those comments are appreciated, they almost make me not want to create anything new. That what I do create might not live up to the standard of the previous version. That’s very depressing.

I got a phone call from Alan tonight. The first thing he says is that I would probably get very upset at him. He said he was going to some LAN war, Local Area Network war, whatever that is, in Tenn. all weekend, and he would also be going out tonight. And of course, he was right, it upset me. I don’t like him being away, and I don’t like not talking to him. He is basically the only stable thing I have. I’ll get pissy if he says anything to me that would result in that. And I especially don’t like it if it’s on short notice, like it was this evening. Even though he said himself that the news he had for me would upset me, he started getting hot and bothered because of how quiet I had become, and how “depressed” I sounded. Asking a lot of questions like “you’re always angry whenever I call.” Mainly because recently his phone calls are about how he’s calling to tell me he’s not going to be somewhere or doing something, or he’s calling to make up for not being somewhere or doing something.

Maybe it doesn’t bother him to be away from me all the time. That is what it seems like. And that is really the only thing I have constantly asked of him not do to. He could do anything else, except that. He works all of the time to “build a future for us.” And that’s nice and everything. But if there isn’t any time for us now, there may not be a future for it. Maybe that sounds selfish. But he is not the one who feels like this all of the time. Then again, maybe this little paragraph is a little bit of me over reacting. But I am just fed up.

Click on the image to the left to see a picture of me taken on this day. (pop-up)

I decided to add a picture to this message. No real reason, really, other than I was playing with the camera and I wanted to see how well it would go. I’m going to test it for the next few entries, I think. Unless I happen to look like shit on that day. I chose this picture out of all that I took because I like the way my hand looks. Alan said I look weird. Oh well.

I don’t think I will ever be able to make another freaking layout for this site. I’ve been trying since June, and the best idea I had went into the layout for unpretty.net. I am constantly making wanna-be layouts, and when I vew them after some time they just seem so ugly. I am constantly running ideas that I have past Alan. Poor baby. I shouldn’t make him suffer through that, but he’s the only person I’ve found who will tell me he doesn’t like it

I am so far behind in school. I wanted to call Stephen this morning to see if he could go around and collect my work, becuase I stayed home again on Friday, but I wasen’t awake in time to call him before he left. In the end, it turns out that my thoughful but nosey accounting teacher had actually come to my first peroid class looking to see if I was in school. One time when my friend Cecilia, who sits beside me in my second peroid accounting class, was sick for 3 days, Mr. Harner called her house on the third to make sure she was alright. I was almost expecting him to call me, but then I realised that I’m long distance from the school, and I doubt Mr. Harner would charge the school money, being the guy who he is. It was sweet of him to be that concerned to check up on me. No other teacher would do that.

I hate working on weekends. I remember when Friday came, no matter what shit I had going on during the week, I was always garenteed that I would have 2 full days of staying up late, sitting on my ass, eating, and basically recharging for the next week. Now I just feel like I have endless work days. Ugh. I can’t stand it.