Hooplah.Org

For some reason, my blogger.com account suddenly disappeared. When I upgraded my browser, I discovered that none of my usual user names, nor the combination of passwords, worked anymore. It makes me wonder. I only hope I did not lose any archives, or anything like that. I only hope things aren’t too screwed up.

My grandmother died today, at 4:30 in the afternoon. My mother got the call around 6. I don’t feel anything. The last time I remember talking to her was when I was 14 years old. The last time I saw her was about a month ago, when me and my mother visited my unconscious grandmother at the hospital. She looked so horrible, laying in that hospital bed. I have no idea of what my mother has plans on doing tomorrow, simply because I spent my afternoon arguing and crying with Alan. I should have been in the kitchen, talking to my mother. I think my mother needed me. When I finally emerged from my room, eyes puffy and my head congested, she had already gone to bed. I am assuming that she called into work, and that she will be doing something involving it tomorrow. Maybe I can come along. I don’t want her to be alone with the other members of her family.

Earlier, I had written a big rant about a particular person who posted in my guestbook. Somehow, I had taken what she said in different terms than how she wrote them. I appreciate her concern. I’m really not “fucked in the head”; really. I was crying, and very upset in the particular post that she had read. I tend to be over dramatic. There have been moments where I wish I could have the power of suicide, but I don’t think I could ever actually do it. I don’t believe I have ever gotten to that point. I actually think it’s my stubbornness that would be the biggest factor to keep me from doing it. I hate giving in. If I actually did it, it would be for the attention, but what good is doing it for attention when you’re no longer able to know you’re getting it.

Revealing that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t believe I have told that to anyone, in any form. I don’t even know why I am now – I have an extreme urge to delete it. Maybe it’s because of guilt. I have never really left guilt about it before. Maybe it’s because after revealing this, people will believe I have been lieing to them. I have not. It’s not uncommon for someone to wish they were dead to avoid something painful. It doesn’t always mean that they’re going to do it. I’ll admit, I do throw the words around too much. I do that a lot. Which is hypocritical of myself, as I am known for being a big preacher on the strength of words and how the hurt from them does not leave as soon as the sound that caused them. It’s weird that I can acknowledge things like this and still continue to do them, with full honesty and seriousness. It’s not like I am chuckling under my breath.

I know where this is coming from. It’s good to write out thoughts, because you find the problems, and then find the passion to correct them. When I was younger, I was extremely violent. If I was angry, I hit people. Friends, adults, my mother… Anyone. I strongly believe that this was from my father’s example, as every time he became angry at me, he would discipline me. Anything he disliked, he threatened me with a raised hand. I believe that was where I learned that. When I became older, my father hit me less, but then started moving in with verbal assaults. He constantly called me and my mother horrible names, but would use some of this favorite, stupid terms. Like, “dumb as a box of rocks.” They were always annoying little rhymes like that. When he got angry, he would raise his voice to unneeded levels, and always be whining. He does it because he knows it hurts more than violence, and takes less effort. And yet again, I took his example. Our methods and reasons for arguing are different because I have sculpted myself to be just the opposite of him. But I still use words to hurt people, and feel no guilt what so ever about it. I actually feel better making someone else feel bad. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t attack someone that is innocent. If I feel I am hitting a wall with someone, that is when I begin this. But, it’s just, ugly…. And I need to swallow some pride and fix it. I don’t want to be like my father. When he finally dies, I want everything that belongs to him to go as well.

The better I think I am getting with the awareness of myself, I find something new to work on. I never touched this topic, because it was my security blanket. My temper is my only real difference, and my words are my weapons. And only my loved ones see this, just like my father. All of my friends love me, but I am sure Alan is clueless about how I could possibly have any friends, just like my mother is.

The other night, Alan said something that made my fierce anger hit a wall. He said I didn’t need to work if I moved there. Before, Alan said that I would have to work when I moved in with him, which put a big strain on me to get a good education so that I could at least have a job I liked. When I heard that he had planted himself in Kentucky, I didn’t know how he expected me to have a fulfilling career and have it in Kentucky, a place that Alan already had full knowledge that I disliked. The fact that he made the decision for me, and expected me to comply to him and his dreams without considering me set me and my feminist views off. I couldn’t stand it, and while I am writing this, I am only getting angry. That is not what I’m trying to say. The fact is, I am thinking that maybe I could move to Kentucky. I can make that sacrifice, even if it means going somewhere I have no interest in going. I am bitting my tongue and swallowing a lot of pride saying that. One thing is for certain, he will never make a decision for me again. Never. It will not happen again, and I plan on getting me and him out of Kentucky ASAP. He is in debt to me.

That is, if he isn’t already going to break up with me. I know he is at work right now, and he is not online. He should be, because he can be. There is no reason why he wouldn’t be online. He had yesterday off, and no doubt he was home; I can even begin to imagine what Alan’s mother was filling his head with. For some reason, I don’t think she likes me very much, because all the advice she has ever given him about me has always been negative. And he listens to her more than me. I have been e-mailing him, and I am extremely angry that he is not online. By accident, I e-mailed him that I would break up with him if he did not sign on tonight, because I am very sure that he is reading my e-mails and ignoring them. I didn’t mean to send that – I forgot to edit that out. So I sent him a dorky e-mail with the subject like, “Ok, I didn’t mean that thing about breaking up tonight.” And simply said, in the letter, “But I will still be extremely pissed if you don’t sign on. At least until tomorrow.” It was supposed to be humorous, but somehow, I don’t think it’s going to come off that way.

I screwed up with my words again. I was just talking about being over dramatic and throwing words around, and I did it again… I hope Alan reads this. I am usually writing to him when I write in here. Maybe it will keep him from getting angry at me, or doing what I already think he’s going to do. Probably not.

…. Alan just signed on. For some reason, I am bracing myself.

A forced update, on my part. I just haven’t been in the mood to write very much. The only thing I want to ramble on and on is about my current relationship problems, and I don’t seem even interested in going on about my misc nothings that have happened to me this week. It really has been an out of the ordinary week, and I’m just not interested to talk about it. I may go to the football game tomorrow night, although I am thinking I probably won’t. I’ll write then. I promise, I think.

I wanted to spend a very long time together with Alan. I wanted to. It’s not like I haven’t thought about moving to Kentucky, since Alan is too childish to even consider anything else. And all I see is myself in a place that I hate, in a hallow, meaningless job I would hate, and hating the person I am with because they made come there. I would be miserable. I don’t understand how Alan could be miserable by starting a new job, probably just as good as the one he has now, in a compromised location, where I would be happy as well. I don’t understand how his current position sounds better than that. I don’t understand how I’m the only one who is saying, “Yeah, I’ll sacrifice everything I have now, and everything I feel, to start anew with you.” I don’t understand how he says he is working on his future, when I was supposed to be his future. It was supposed to be mine, ours, but he’s just ripping me and my heart in pieces.

I have had to adjust to Alan’s damn pursuit of a career for the past year. He never asked if it would be ok to take a job that would hurt our relationship; he always just did it. And yet, I still feel I need to ask him if I can die my hair. There is a very big difference of priorities there, don’t you think? He always boasts that he tries to please me, when in reality, it has always been me. Me, sacrificing the things I wanted for him and what he wanted. I suffered threw weeks of not being able to talk to him, and yet he still has the balls to say that “any other girl would be so happy.” Well, go find the mother fucking bitches, but you’ll realize you wouldn’t want someone as hallow as you, Alan. It won’t seem so good when you start getting what you’re giving.

Alan cannot see anything out of his own perspective. Just like my father. He honestly believes that he is the best guy in the entire world. He honestly believes he is doing all these good things, when he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that I cry over him and his stupid decisions all of the time. He said I only cause him “head ache and hear ache” – well, fuck, I wonder why I make him feel that way. Could it be that I am physically hurting from the situation? No, it’s always about him, and how he feels. That’s all he can read. He honestly believes that he can’t change how things are, but that is fucking bullshit. He could if he wanted to, but he just doesn’t value me, a human being, more than his own greed and self satisfaction. That’s basically how I see it, due to his actions and responses. I know full well of his love for money and success, but I never realized those meant more to him than me.

Just because he’s one year older than me doesn’t give him a right to go out and start to make the decisions for me. I cannot even conceive of what kind of arrogance he is suffering from. I told this to Stephen, and he agreed that Alan has a very childish attitude toward things, and believes everything is told by people he thinks he respects. Yeah, he wants to be just like his parents – and I suppose he wants the same hollow, meaningless, and loveless relationship his parents have as well. Because that’s what their life style got them. And the really fucking sick part is, Alan is willing this situation on us. Sacrificing something materialistic, like money, for love. Real smart, Mr. High IQ. Such great people to model himself after.

If there was a god, why does he keep hurting me like this. Why does this shit keep getting pulled on me. When I meant Alan, I realized that he was my reason for not having killed myself in 95. Now I’m just wishing I had gone ahead and done it.