Flip Flop

My stomach feels tight today, tied in knots brought about by the knowledge of the reaction I am certain to receive for what I am about to accomplish. I am going to inform my mother of my plan to remove myself from the family home, and I am going to do this tonight after work. I am almost certain it is going to be a painful battle for both of us, and fear of this outcome is keeping me unsteady today. Work will be terrible, I know; watching the clock and understanding what each minute means. Each minute brings me closer to the battle. Each minute brings me closer to home. It is almost stage fright, what grips me. As if I know I have not rehearsed enough and my performance will be met with anger and flying fruit. More likely, other things will be flying through the air. None of them, however will be anywhere near the figurative rotten tomato. Instead, I will come out bruised and broken.

I don't want to hurt her, or damage our relationship. Nor do I want to hurt my brothers, nor my father. However, it has to happen some time, doesn't it? I can't stay here for the rest of my life. I can afford this now, and there is no reason for me to be a financial burden on them. I am certain that the thing that will throw a wrench in the workings will be the fact that I am still taking my vacation. It will seem as though this is the only reason for leaving. It will seem as though I do not like them. No matter how I try to explain that this is not the case, my mother will latch on to this.

I just hope it goes well.

Plans? What Plans?

I feel as if I'm in a funk. Not quite depressed. Just not all there. I have a tightness in my chest and a nearly permanent scowl that I just can't shake without effort. I find myself lost in thought nearly all the time, and most of the time I can't recall quite what I was thinking about when I'm startled from my reverie. I can't quite put my finger on the source of the issue, though.

I did not end up going hiking with the boyfriend, nor did I spend the weekend with him as I planned. I was in trouble, as seems to be the natural state of things anymore. I don't quite remember what I did, so apparently it wasn't all that important. It was probably about spending my free time with him. It usually is.

Friday night was spent with him, as it usually is, performing some dork-ish rite with him and the majority of his friends, or at least the regular ones. Saturday morning I came home and relaxed, excited at the prospect of the evening my parents had planned. All week my mother had been talking about having a "family night," but inviting my boyfriend and my brother's girlfriend to join us. She said that it was about time that we started including other people. I was thrilled; the plans were made. The time I spent at work dragged on, and I seemed to move at super-speed as I tried to rush the day along. This, I thought, was going to be a blast! As soon as work was over, however, I flipped my phone on and rushed to the car, only to find a text message from my mother. It said that what he said yesterday on our hike with the boys really hurt them, and that he was no longer welcome in her home. It told me, again, that I had to make a choice.

It turns out that he made a comment about feces on his shoe, something snarky about "I wonder where this came from," which we both giggled about. I made a joke to the effect of "so that's why you don't like coming over." The boys heard this joke, and brought it to my mother's attention over dinner. So, of course, her first response is "you must choose." I don't quite understand why she has to demand a choice every time she gets miffed at him. He was uninvited, and "family time" ended up " Mom, Dad, and Liv" time. The boys and the girlfriend disappeared.

I did talk to Mom about the situation, however. I kept my cool and tried to explain that I didn't think the boyfriend meant anything by the comment, that the issues were solely his sense of humor and nothing more. She seemed to take this to heart, and it looks like the crisis was averted. Though I'm not sure about whether or not he's invited to the house ever again, at least there wasn't yelling and that sort of thing.

When I told the boyfriend about what happened today, though, as we laid on the couch, he made no comment at first. Instead, he frowned and tried to pretend he wasn't. I have a feeling that he was upset by this, if only slightly, that his feelings were hurt. I moved on with the story, making him crack a smile and laugh a little as I continued, and then I changed the subject. However, he changed it back abruptly, and the first thing that came out of his mouth about the issue was "I think it's because of your 'that's why you don't come over' comment." This bothered me, quite frankly. I was hurt that the first thing he said about the subject promptly pointed the finger cleanly at me, without taking any responsibility about the situation for himself. I'm well aware that everything is my fault, I do not need his help accepting this. I would have appreciated it if he hadn't made the comment. I want his honesty, yes, but I don't think that was necessary. Even so, it was said. I responded with "Yes, I know it's all my fault. But thanks for pointing that out, hun." There was no argument, just a nod, and he moved on with the conversation. I excused myself, citing that I needed to go home.

I'm frustrated.

Update

I talk and talk about moving out now, threatening anyone who'll listen. Of course, with the exception of my parents. Yet, for all of my threats, I am still staying at home here. Just the idea of calling a place that doesn't house the rest of my family my home is unsettling. It's scary, as I've said time and time again, and I can't quite get over that hump. I'm afraid that I will make a mistake. I am afraid that I won't be able to survive on my own, and I don't want to lean on anyone else. I want to be independent. I just don't know what to do; I keep going back and forth. In all reality, I am not sure why I can't just make a decision. Why can I not get over my fear in this instance?

In spite of my confusion, I received some wonderful news yesterday. I've been accepted at college! I am going to start my vet tech program in the fall. I can hardly wait. I want to get everything all set up and done. I am so thrilled I can hardly see straight. On top of that, there are work-study programs that the school of my choice offers. These programs have salaries starting at a $0.50 raise from my current salary, and 10-20 hours a week guaranteed, in fact required. That is just about exactly what I was looking for. It would be ideal to get a job that will be flexible with my school schedule, and also pay gobs more than I already make. Of course, I doubt that I'll actually qualify. However, it is worth a shot.

I'm going hiking tomorrow with the boyfriend. At least I hope so. Every time we've planned a trip like this, something has gone wrong. The last time it happened, my car got broken in to. So we shall see. Other than that, though, I'm planning on staying the entire weekend with him for the first time. Kind of a test run for moving in, perhaps? I can hardly base the entire idea on a single weekend, of course, and especially one with a week like we've had. We have hardly seen each other, it seems. At least, though, I'll know for sure how well I can use the restroom for more pressing issues. I am sure that makes no sense to you, but I know what I mean, and it is a big obstacle for moving anywhere with someone else.

Cross your fingers for me!

A Short Post?!

My mother and I sat down and talked about Brian and the pow-wow more in depth the other day. She shocked me even more than before. He is, she says, a very nice man. She can tell that he really cares about me just by the way he talks about me. One of her biggest points against him was his claim to be a virgin when he met me. She now says that, though she still doesn't believe in his virginity, she things that he at least wishes he was. We were talking about something, I can't remember what it was, and I was busy trying to be smart about the situation, degrading it and spouting disbelief. "I try so hard to be cynical." I chuckled. Mom turned to me then with a strange look in her eyes, "I know you do. You're going to be. But he'll be around for a while, and you'll start to learn not to. You'll be cynical less and less until, eventually, you'll forget why you were even cynical in the first place." I felt all teary-eyed at that statement. I'm not sure exactly what he said that changed her mind so thoroughly, but whatever it was, it worked.

He came to our Independence Day "party." It was interesting; relaxed, even slightly awkward, but interesting. It went well. I was thrilled to have my family together, and to have Brian there with me. Mom took a few pictures, one of which is my new display picture. He's been invited to cake and ice cream on my birthday, too. Yay! We'll see how that goes.

Pow-Wow

The meeting went well according to all parties involved. Or, three out of four. Brian came to see my parents, and my brother Scott was present for the conversation. Though I haven't spoken to my brother, both of my parents said that the conversation went well. Neither seemed too terribly thrilled at this; both begrudgingly admitted that it went "just fine," my mother topping off the awkwardness as she intoned, refusing to glance at me, that "he really loves [me]."

My mother has said that I may stay out until 1am if I'm coming home. Fridays and Saturdays, though, I'm allowed to disappear all night long. My parents seem happier with the situation now that they've talked to him, at least. My mother even invited Brian to the 4th of July "celebration," in spite of the fact that it may not even occur on the 4th. We'll see how all of that works out, I suppose.

I'm still not sure about moving out at this point. Yes, I would like to be free. I wonder, though; can I? Not only because I'm worried about my ability to live, but because I'm worried about my family. Can I hurt them that way? They would all be hurt, especially if it's my choice. Even so, I'm meeting with Marc on Thursday evening.

I was worried that, given with my parents have said, things would be awkward with Brian. I worried that they just wouldn't feel right like they used to. This is both because what my parents said is deeply disturbing to me and my morals, and because they pointed out things that I can neither prove nor disprove. Brian is not about to admit to lying, whether he is or not. However, as soon as I got there, things were fine. We just fit together. It's awesome! Yet again, I didn't realize just how much I missed him until I had him again. Not that it wasn't difficult, don't misunderstand. However, I didn't realize just how much until I was snuggled up next to him again.

Ain't No Party Like My Nana's Tea Party

Well, technically speaking I am allowed to see Brian again. My parents have said that nothing's going to change in just two days, and that it was never a requirement but a request on their part. Funny, it really seemed like a requirement. But, that is a moot point.

Brian is going to sit down with my parents tomorrow to "air it all out" with them. This will happen with him alone while I am at work. My father wants me to be present so that I can see what kind of man Brian is. My mother says she doesn't want me there, she's going to record the situation so that I can hear what he's like when I'm not around. I'm worried about the entire situation. It seems like they're setting this up for failure. I'm worried that they're going to attack Brian, or that Brian will attack them. Either way, the situation will not end well. I'm worried I won't have a relationship with Brian when it's all over, or that my relationship with my parents will be severely damaged enough that they're not going to want to talk to me anymore. I'm afraid of losing.

I feel selfish for wanting both. I feel selfish for being angry that I seem to be made to choose. I understand what my parents are saying to an extent, and I can easily see how the situation scares them. It has been nearly a complete 180 since I met Brian; from being around all the time no matter what to never being home. When I am home, I don't talk to them about what happened at Brian's. They blame him. They say he is taking me away from them. I honestly feel like they're just afraid of losing me. They're afraid of me growing up. Brian only enters in to this in that he is the reason I'm never home. Therefore, he is the enemy. However, that does not make me feel any better about the situation.

Their attacks on him do scare me more than I was. Especially when I am trying so hard to act in spite of my fear of the situation, to put myself out there and hope I don't get completely trampled. In all honesty, though, mostly it is just driving me to want to spend more time with him. Whether it's a lie or not, it's far simpler than home life at this point to spend all my time running around with him. He compliments me, takes care of me, and we both enjoy doing and talking about the same things. We can be complete silly dorks together, and it is infectious; made even moreso with the overwhelming seriousness and depression that pervades my family. Someone is always sick or dying, someone is always depressed or having a hard time, and it is enjoyable to not have to think about that. When I'm with him, I don't think about any of it.

Granted, the situation is probably unhealthy. What relationship isn't? I certainly have never had one. As I told my parents; even if he is lying to me, even if this is a horrendously unhealthy situation, it makes me happy now. He's not hitting me, he's not raping me, he's not yelling at me or calling me names. I enjoy the time I choose to spend with him immensely. The situation, even if it is all falsities, even if he's simply using me and making fun of me behind my back (which, though I didn't tell them this, I don't believe), it is worth it to me right now. My mom claims that this situation is so much worse than anything I've faced ever before. Those words cut me to the core. I worry that she's right. At the same time, though, I have to take it with a grain of salt; she's scared she's going to lose me to him, and she's going to do everything in her power to keep me here, I think.

At this point, however, I worry that my parents will use things I said (and things I didn't) against me when they talk to Brian tomorrow. Will they lie to throw him off? Will they bait him? Or will they give him a fair chance? What if he doesn't give them a chance? What if he is as bad as they say, or he hauls off and has a conniption fit? What if he throws things in their faces that I've told him in confidence? What if, by the end of the day, I've lost everything? I'm so nervous I could vomit.

I'll be working. It is going to be the longest day! There will be nothing to do but spin my wheels about the meeting my parents and my boyfriend are going to stage. I'll worry about the stories I'm going to get when I get home from both sides. I worry about the "recording." I worry that my parents will prove themselves completely right, that they'll prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that Brian is everything they've said he was, and that there will be no way for me to refute that he is, in fact, a liar. That I've placed my trust, yet again, in someone who doesn't deserve it. I've asked both to call the store afterward to tell me how it goes. Both will, hopefully not at the same time. Unless something goes seriously wrong, of course, at which point I will promptly freak right the hell out. I want so badly for them to get along; I want my parents to like Brian, and I want Brian to like them. However, I don't see it happening.

This is going to be bad.

Ping Pong

If you told me six months ago that I'd be moving out, I would have told you that you are a liar. If you would have told me that my parents would hate my boyfriend and force me to choose, I would have told you that you didn't understand the kind of connection my family has. It's a good thing no one warned me; this would have been even more frustrating than it already is.

I don't know where I am, right now. All of this feels alien to me, a new world. Parental distrust and disagreement is not something I ever dealt with growing up. If they had an issue, I would bend over backward to make it better and redeem myself in their eyes. This is the first situation, I do believe, in which I have not given up everything at the drop of a hat for them. They told me that they didn't approve of my relationship, I basically told them "Tough cookies." In a much kinder more eloquent way, I assure you, but tough cookies nonetheless. The more I think about the situation, the more I can see how they say I've changed.

I'm a stronger person, much to their befuddlement. I am not afraid to tell them that I'm making my own choices. "I understand how you feel, but..." type of a thing. Yes, I do suppose I've made some bad ones (read: making myself sick at the hospital). However, I also feel I've learned from them. I know better now how to handle myself without guidance from my parents. I also can disagree with them without even the slightest blush on my face. I'm unashamed that my opinions differ, where before I would spout my opinion as the same whether they approved or not. I am certain that, between me not being at home and being more secure in my own opinions, beliefs, and feelings while I am home, they do see a change in me. Perhaps it is a change they don't like. I feel better as a person for it, though. I feel happier in general.

This is not to say that I don't need my parents, or my family. I love them, and I can't imagine living without them, if only because I never have. I want them to be a part of the new chapter of my life. I want to be able to talk to them. But, at the same time, I can't stay here. I can't be told how to live my life.

Is it wrong of me to feel like a spoiled child for all of this? I'm so confused, I keep going back and forth. I think the biggest thing is that I'm terrified of failure. I'm terrified that I'll have to move back home. I'm scared that, when he dumps me, I won't be able to handle it and I'll have to admit that I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was. I feel prepared for it, but what if?

I'm just so confused.

Salt

It's been four months since Mr. Sick and I got together. Four months and five days, and I'm not sure that we'll be together much longer, and it is all my fault. Yet, I'm not sure I'm as hurt by this as I should be. Is it that I'm certain he'll be there when I get back?

Yesterday I had plans to take my brothers out to a movie with Brian and to get Father's Day cards. We never made it to the movie. My car broke down out front of the card store. My parents didn't answer the phone when I called, but Brian did. He came and waited with me for the tow truck, and drove me home afterward. My entire family met him. Hallelujah, right? However, they severely disliked him. Regardless, they were polite while we were there.

I ended up going to his house and staying the night so he could take me to work in the morning. My father fixed my car (as it turned out, it was merely a lack of oil), but I stayed at Brian's house anyway. I spent the majority of the evening at his apartment alone, studying and playing WoW. Then we stayed up late together after he got home.

This morning I awoke with a dizzy spell. It was bad enough that I could hardly stand without swaying on my feet and falling over. So, I called in sick. I told Brenda that I'd be in at noon, if she wanted, and I thought she told me not to worry about it; that she would call Sheree and there wouldn't be a problem. I was wrong. Even so, I shut off my phone and spent the day relaxing. We had a great time. When I turned my phone on at three-thirty, though, I had two voicemails and two text messages. One was from Brenda at work asking where I was. The other was from my mother. She bit off the words "Get home. Now." I texted her, and then called.

She picked up the phone with screams of "Where are you?" and "Are you aware of how many people you have freaked out today?" Understandable, of course, with my complete lack of contact. The store had called my house phone and, of course, this happens to be the time my mother answers. She said that all the ladies at work were freaking out, and that my parents had been to every hospital in the city worrying that I had been in an accident or something. She demanded Brian's phone number and address, telling me that she was going to come get me. I was hoping that, by denying her this, I was helping the situation. Maybe Brian wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. Yeah, not quite.

Brian pulled up in front of my house and my mother was out the door, flinging herself down the hill in front of our house with a cigarette in hand, hair flying, and pure hatred in her eyes. She opened the door and yanked me out of the car with a shriek, bending over and squalling at Brian in her frustration and fear, demanding to know if he was prepared to care for me, if he was going to marry me. He told her yes, if he needed to care for me he could and, if things continued to go well, he would marry me. I could do nothing but stand behind her and stare mutely at my feet as she called him sick and told him that he already had a chance to live his young life and I hadn't had that chance.

She finally slammed the car door and told me to get in the house. I called back that it wasn't his fault, and she snapped at me to stop defending him. Once inside, she screamed at me about how scared she was (rightfully so) and how horrible Brian is. She told me he'd get bored with me, that he'd leave and be fine. Once he's done with school, she said, he's going to either run off with someone else or be ready to settle down. She said she was worried I'd give up my life for him. I can understand that, as well, I suppose. Both of my parents lectured me on how horrible a person he is, and continued to tell me I was ruining my life and that the relationship was sick. They told me that they hated him, and that I was just rationalizing when I explained my reasoning. They said that I'd lost track of what I wanted in life, and blamed Brian. The issues they keep bringing up, though, were before Brian. They just had no name for them, and they refuse to blame me.

At first they forbade me from seeing him, my mother crying out that I had to make my choice; either leave him or leave home. My father began, and my mother agreed, that I should "at least" take a break. Two weeks, they've said, with no contact with him, during which time I am to seriously consider what it is I want from life. I've conceded this point, and conceded that he will not stay. I am not completely stupid after all, and I know I'm not worth much to most. Even so, should Brian decide he doesn't want me by the end of the two weeks I will leave it alone. But if he still wants me, and they still have an issue, away I go. I have places to go, and it's not just about Brian. It's about freedom.

So why do I feel like such a moron? Like such an angsty and unreasonable teenager?

Wisdom Teeth

It's been nearly three months with Mr. Sick, and I have spent every moment I possibly can with him. He's been out of the hospital for a while now, and in nearly perfect health, with the exception of the aftermath of his wisdom teeth removal yesterday. He asked me to drive him to and from. I didn't realize the care involved when I agreed, but I know I would have agreed even if I had known. Why would I not?

However, upon coming home, my father decided to accost me nearly straight through the doorway. On his way out, he turned to me and wagged his finger, telling me that I have to be more careful. He cited my tendency to leap into situations like this, telling me that I was again treating the boyfriend like a puppy, as my mother complained while I was with him during his second hospital trip. My father told me that I was going to get hurt, and said that he didn't want to have to deal with it. He softened to tell me that I was a giving person, and that he didn't want me giving too much, to which I replied that all I gave was reciprocated. He shook his head and complained that Mr. Sick was not there when I had all the work done on my mouth in December, January, and February. I quickly pointed out that Mr. Sick did not, in fact, even know I existed then, let alone that I was having work done on my mouth and could've used a friendly shoulder. I kept to myself that it was not as if my father was there at any but one of those appointments, as if he had to pick up where the boyfriend slacked off. He was working or playing video games while I drove myself to and from the appointments. Therefore, it was really not something that he had any right to complain about. I also neglected to mention that my boyfriend at the time, one who my father liked, refused to go with me upon the suggestion of a request. Regardless, however, I simply ended up telling my father that he did not know Mr. Sick, he had never met the man and therefore had no right to pass judgement on him. My father conceded as I began to cry and stepped over to hug me to his chest until I told him that he had done a good job.

I told him that I wasn't stupid enough to believe that this guy would stay. I'm not. I hold no illusions that he will stay where everyone else has left. I hold no illusions that anyone will stay. But, as I told my father this morning, I can't live my life in fear of the inevitable pain. I've seen what it does, I've tried to. I can't do it. I told him, too, that I am scared enough on my own of the guillotine that every relationship ends up. I do not need his help being unsure. I told him that I did not understand why he and my mother can't seem to just be happy for me because I am happy with this man for now.

I wonder to myself: is it because I'm never home anymore? Is it fear at the idea of me leaving? Is my father's blow up last night in any way related to my mother's somber mood today? Is he just stressed? My brother has told me that he has gotten worse and worse with his random explosions.

I told my boyfriend about what my father said, about what happened, and told him that staying the weekend was not going to happen because of it. I am worried that I've upset him. I don't want him to worry. Also, I have to admit, I don't want him to throw his hands up and say "Oh no, I am done with this." I'm expecting it any day, and dreading it at the same time. I've been insecure before, but this past week has been horrendous as far as worry is concerned. I am unsure why this is. Could it just be hormones? I am fairly sure that I'll be starting my period soon, and that most likely accounts for my inability to let my father's words go. Maybe it is the insecurity as well, because Mr. Sick makes me ridiculously happy. There is no reason for me to leave him, so all I can do is worry he's leaving me.

Funny how the title only enters here once, isn't it?

Here It Goes Again.

My boyfriend is in the hospital. Again. This is the second time in the past week he has been incapacitated. Again, I am terrified, for no real reason. His condition is not life-threatening at this point, and he is where he can best be helped. Yet I am still unable to sleep yet again, and eating is a far more complicated thing than it needs to be. But, I digress. I will start at the beginning and work my way forward.

When his mom first gave him my number, he did not call me straight away. He was admitted to the hospital before he had the chance for intense pain in his abdomen. He was "violently ejecting everything from both ends." They just gave him some pain meds at this point and sent him home, citing indigestion as the problem. I did not hear from him for nearly a month after that. Last Saturday I ended up having to work instead of going to hang out with him right away. I was expecting a phone call around 11:30, after he gets off work as is usual. Standing in my kitchen at 8:30, my phone vibrates and screams at me, and it is him on the other end. I made a joke about him calling me early and he made a weak joke about it being bed-time, moving onward to ask me inane questions about how my day went, completely ignoring me when I shot questions back to him. I, of course, made a comment with a giggle about him ignoring me. He responded with a stutter and weak explanation. He was in the ER, the pain he had before we met was back.

He was admitted that night, and an MRI on Monday revealed gallstones to be the culprit. Some of them having migrated to the bileduct, they put him under for an endoscopic procedure to remove those before a complete gallbladder removal on Tuesday. One, however, was left behind with a shunt. It had become embedded, and there was too much swelling and infection to do anything about it at that point. Tuesday they did end up removing the gallbladder, and said that 3/4 of the organ was stone, and it was infected nearly to the point of gangrene. How he did not feel this, everyone is mystified. Regardless, he was allowed to leave Thursday.

I was with him every moment I could be Thursday and Friday, and he was getting better rapidly. I was sure he was on the mend. I had to work Saturday, and by the time I got home and called him, he was in the ER again and in rather copious amounts of pain. He asked me to come see him. When I got there, he was alone, and seemed fairly well. In pain, yes, but he was dealing with it. He was happy to see me. The doctor came in and was talking to him about the issues, asking questions about the pain. She laid him down to feel his abdomen, and sat him back up as she left. You could see it on his face. It was all over. From that point on, all he could do was lay there, sweating and shaking, blinking his eyes open to frown at me every once in a while. There were tests, and a liter of liquid to dump down his throat. He cried and grunted at times, but for the most part he was silent and sweating. The pain meds they gave him barely helped at all, and by the time he was admitted and I left, he was pale and silent.

As it turns out, the shunt had slipped, blocking the bileduct and building pressure once again. All I want to do is scream at the doctors, to help him feel better. But, they are doing the best they can do, and there is nothing I can do to change that, or to help him. I hate this. I just want him better, I want things to go back to normal. But, that is life, I suppose. Things rarely go the way we want them to, and there is not a damn thing anyone can do about it. At least he won't die. I just want him to be better right now.

The next time I see him half naked and sweating it had better be a good thing.

So, it is now February. The month is winding down. I've gone through one boyfriend, and am stuck on the second in the span of a month and a half. Yes, two. I'm a slut. The second, though, is online again, and will not last long. He's not quite what I'm looking for in another human being. He seems to embody all the bad parts about my father, and doesn't really have the good parts to make up for it.

Y'know, so much is going on, and I can't even begin to know how to word it all. I sit down to write, and all I get are snippets of non-coherent thought, even during stories. My brain is moving too fast...or maybe too slow. I don't know. All I know is I want it over and done with.

Guilt and Beginnings

It started days ago. It started this morning. It started one year, many years ago. The point is, it started.

Today I awoke bright and early at the strike of nine, staring at the gloomy sliver of sky I can see through my bedroom window from beneath covers weighing me to the mattress so lovingly situated directly on the carpeted floor. I woke, albeit sore and worried, with a certain hope for the day. Today was Christmas shopping day. Today might be all right. I rolled out of bed (eventually) and stumbled dizzily to the living room, flipping open my laptop and attacking my normal morning internet routine with fervor.

There were comics and e-mails to check. There was stuff to be done before I had to leave and begin hunting for Christmas goodies. Lo and behold, my kangaroo, my Popeye, my favorite person, was online. The conversation began innocently, as usual. Things were entertaining. I even got him to agree to allow me to buy and send him a Christmas present, as we talked and joked. As usual. But, as usual, there was a slightly sober tone this morning. As usual, the conversation turned sour suddenly. The conversation is long, and quite painful, so I'll skip over the majority of it and just touch on the juicy morsels.

"I should go to bed before I start bitching at you" he proclaimed, after a short conversation about my pouting, and emotions that should be left unstirred. I apologized, as I am wont to do, and he replied "It isn't your fault I can't talk to you without getting upset." Of course I, like a moron, didn't leave it alone and responded with "Would you rather stop talking to me?" I meant it honestly, I really did. There wasn't anything sarcastic about it. He replied with a clear no, and I went on to ask if I could help, if I could make it better. He continued with no, and "Just keep doing whatever it is that you do. I'll be fine." I must admit, I was just slightly hurt by this statement, but I ignored that, and simply told him that I couldn't just not worry about it. His response? "Bleh, I'm turning into (TYOB)"

I was confused, completely blown out of the water by the statement. Aside from the surprise at the suddenness of it, guilt returned to gnaw at me like ravenous ticks, and the slow burn returned to my chest. He went on to tell me that Chris was obsessed with me, that, regardless of how much we talk, he rarely goes by a moment without thinking about me, and that the only way he knows is because he's the same way. Which, of course, stabbed at my heart. Not only am I still hurting people by being here, but I'm hurting my best friend...still.

He then brings up my...well, at the time, my current boyfriend. I hadn't told him we were dating, simply because I knew he'd be upset, and I knew he'd worry over nothing. He, of course, found out, and goes on to tell me that I'm scaring him, and that I'm going to get myself killed. We have a tussle over lies.

He tells me that I'm slowly destroying myself. He says that I've changed a lot in the past year, and that I haven't changed for the better. Woah, low blow, eh? I want to make excuses. I want to scream and yell about how hard life's been, about how many new things I've had to deal with, about how every day is sheer terror attacking me, every time I walk through the front door. But, plain and simple, he is right. I have changed, and not in a good way.

It ends, long story cut very short, with this:

You've spent hours telling me that I'm a moron, basically, and talking about how much I'm hurting you, and everyone around me. And you're mad at me because I'm done listening to it? It's pointless. It's going nowhere and, quite frankly, it hurts like hell. I'm taking your advice. I'm done talking to (my ex). But I don't see how sitting here and listening to you drip poison in my ear is helpful. And you're not there, are you? You logged out. *sigh* Bye

And later:

Don't be worried; I'm not dead. The thing with Jon went beautifully, we barely said a word between the two of us. But I'm taking a break from the internets, and I'll probably not be online for a while. You're right. I'm sorry.

I dumped my boyfriend, but not solely because of this situation. I've had a similar conversation with my mother about him. He's dangerous, he's a liar, he's far too violent for me, and he raped me. He just isn't right for me. I was really only with him because I knew I could keep him at arm's length. The last boyfriend left me in tears, tattered and broken without him. I refuse to be that again.

So, this is my "break from the internets." Have to love that, don't you? Regardless, as much as it hurts to face it, he is right. So, I am making a resolution, the new year is quickly approaching, and I will change to meet it.

1) I will stop this self-sabotaging guilt and self-esteem issue. There will be no more "I'm not doing it because it might go wrong." If I don't try, I won't get anywhere.

2) I will make a conscious effort to be more involved with my family. When everyone else has abandoned me, they will be there for me, and so I should be there for them.

3) I will make a more conscious effort to spend time with those who want to spend time with me. This does not mean dating, this does not mean making deep lasting connections. Please do not misunderstand. But I will make friends.

4) I will be a better person. I will save the money I make for school. I will volunteer my time with charities, instead of sitting on my behind all the time.

I do not need anyone.

Fork Me With a Spoon

So...guess what? It's Thanksgiving! Or, well, it WAS Thanksgiving today. Which means everyone sat around with families, blood or otherwise, and ate copious amounts of food for no good reason, and then gave copious amounts of thanks for the amazing things in their life. Right? Of COURSE! And afterward everyone farted strawberries and shat rainbows and glitter. Life is amazing like that.

Honestly, who among us has a non-dysfunctional family? Let he who is without sin...

Actually, though, my Thanksgiving ended up being pretty awesome, comparatively speaking. My family got along; we sat around all day watching TV and movies together, eating, and making fun of nearly everything that danced across the plasma screen. Yes, we have a massive plasma screen TV now. I'm sure it has nothing to do with our stunning goodwill toward each other. We didn't, however, make it to my grandparents' house, unfortunately. We'll be there soon, though. I miss them terribly.

There are other issues, though, that factor in to my general feeling of malaise this evening. I have even sat down and cried, fighting against the urge to snatch the silver Swiss Army Knife as my temporary salvation from pressure and frustration, as is my tried-and-true method of control. I don't deal well with pressure, it seems. I am a weakling.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, spent Thanksgiving at his friends' house. The friends that don't like me, as well they shouldn't. I'm not exactly good enough for him. But I digress, he spent his entire Thanksgiving over there, and is still there, because his dear sweet uncle showed up at his house for Thanksgiving dinner. I have problems with his uncle, just as he does. Though I've never met the man, he seems rather...nasty. Just today, he dislocated the boyfriend's shoulder. For no other reason than he was capable. So, I surely can't blame Jon for wanting to spend more time at his friends' house, the very same friends who saved him from a far worse beating from his semi-evil uncle.

However, I looked forward to the evening phone call with him the entire day long, as the frustration and the pain grew. It finally topped off when my license-less father informed me that he would, in fact, be driving himself to work tomorrow. That it would be FINE, that it was his life, and that any repercussions he would receive upon being caught were "not that bad." I know, I'm freaking out for no reason. He is an adult. But he could also go to jail, or lose his license for life. Call me crazy, but I really don't want to cart my father around forever. A year is plenty of time for such stress. But bah, it is not as if I'll ever leave this place; my life here seems set in stone because I will do nothing whatsoever to change it. Regardless, the "evening phone call" was the length of time it took for my boyfriend to get from his friends' apartment to his own. Which is, approximately, nine minutes. Most of it consisted of him reassuring me that he was never going to dump me, but that he'd accept my verdict if I decided that it was "game over." Because of my retardation last night. But we won't get into that.

I am a self-sabotaging moron.

On Lemons

I'm pretty sure most of us have heard the old adage "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade", right? A simple mantra touted by the "silver lining"-ists, the optimists of this world, quoted and re-quoted until it means absolutely nothing important, to remind humanity in general to "keep it positive." Great, fantastic, wonderful; a wondrous message of hope in the dreary hum-drum of the world.

Now we take someone like me; when life gives me lemons, I eat 'em. And I like it. Or, at least, I do my very best to enjoy the sour along with the sweet. I don't try to make a bad situation better. I wallow in the bad situation, because I know that it could always be worse. That it will always be worse. I wouldn't consider myself a pessimist; I do believe in life in general. I believe things work out, eventually, if you're patient enough. I believe there's good in every situation, be it good intention or good outcome, through learning or otherwise. But I also know, from personal experience, that there will always be something else waiting around the corner. There's always another rush of issues, another avalanche of drama, if you will. Plus, I like lemons. The real fruit, not the philosophical one.

Now what happens when life gives you lemonade? An optimist would, of course, take the lemonade as a sign that things really are good. They would drink up without question. Right? But someone like me? No, I take the lemonade and commence searching for lemons. If none appear, I make said lemons up. Yes, imaginary philosophical lemons. Does it get any more redundant than that? Bear with me.

What I'm saying here, in a roundabout way, is that I sabotage myself and my happiness because I'm too busy looking for the drama, looking for the issues. I'm too busy looking for the heartbreak. There always is some, of course. For the most part, however, it is for one reason and one reason alone; I make it so. So these imaginary philosophical lemons become real philosophical lemons.

I'm sure by this point you're wondering what relevance, if any, this has to anything. Trust me, my dear sweet non-existent reader. There is a reason for this. My lemon-searching seems to have dissipated in one instance. I have this boyfriend, you see. For once in my life, I am happy with something, with someone, and I am not looking for the issues. I am not anticipating hurdles. I am happy where I am, and I am not looking for a reason to go anywhere else. I find myself taking the situation as it comes, and dealing with it. I'm not consistently terrified by the idea that perhaps, someday, he will realize I am not worth it.

I am content here. Lemons or no lemons.

For once, I am not afraid.

Dizzy

Last week was...something. Something strange and alien, and yet familiar. I'm heading to the middle this week reeling; dizzy from the uncertainty, confusion, and fear. Guilt gnaws at me and nerves choke me.

Let us start with the good news. Or the semi-good news. I have acquired my driver's license with my first try of the test every. Because I am awesome, and had an awesome instructor tester guy thingy. Maneuverability was a bitch, but I got through it and am now fully able to drive by myself. I don't drive well, but I do drive. Oh it is fun! I love driving, as nerve-racking as it is.

My brother stabbed himself in the arm the other day. He had a fairly deep wound. It was gushing blood, from what I hear. My youngest brother says that the older one passed out for a second on the back porch. His friend bandaged him up, his girlfriend and friends knew about it. He told them. But he refused to tell us. He told me that he had been "bitten by [the next door neighbors'] fucking dog." I figured that it had quit bleeding, so I should just let it go, but I honestly could tell he was lying. Later that day we found out about it, and he was taken to the hospital to get stitches. My mom was going to throw him into an institution, and was yelling at him and calling him names and saying that she "didn't know [him] anymore" from what I hear. However, that was a secondary source. My dad told me that my brother had said that was what happened. However, my brother could easily have lied to cover his own arse.

My brother blabbed to his counselor about my mother yelling at him, and our caseworker was sent out again. From what it seems, she has not decided my mother is unfit, and my brother did some covering up. You see, my mom caved yesterday and allowed him to see his girlfriend, even though he wasn't supposed to. She had forbidden it. I think she was sucking up to him so that he wouldn't tell on her to the caseworker.

I hope he doesn't get upset and take it further because of the lack of help he's getting.

There are two guys who are fighting over me right now. It is an odd feeling. The one I met the day we moved in, and he decided then that he liked me. I don't like him, though; not in that way. He is mentally unstable and violent, on top of being in trouble with the law. Frankly, I've had enough trouble with the law. I don't need any more. I don't mind being his friend. I like being his friend, he's fun to be around, but he is not right for me.

Well, this other guy I met just a couple weeks before my ex dumped me. He is a liar; he has a thousand fish stories. He has been jailed on rape charges, though he was cleared through DNA testing, and has been accused unofficially by an ex girlfriend. I hope that it's just circumstance. He and I get along fairly well; we can debate for hours, and it's tons of fun. He's sweet. But, he is also violent. He is highly competitive, also, which makes me wonder if I'm nothing more than a trophy to both of them.

On top of this, the first guy is upset at me now. Things have been going well with guy number two, though I don't know that I really like him as much as he likes me. The first guy is upset because he thinks that I'm being unfair. He told me last night that he thinks I like playing with people's heads. I can see how he would say that. However, it kind of bothers me. I know he's just upset, and I shouldn't listen. Instead, though, I'm thinking that I just should extricate myself from the situation. It's not really worth it to me for them to be fighting over me. I don't want to wedge myself in between them, and I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to. I just need to tell guy number two no. Even though I don't want to.

Confusion and frustration.

Nerves

My ex-boyfriend came and got all of his junk the other day. Nobody but my brother saw him. He said that he almost went out there, but decided against it. I have a feeling that my brother was helping the ex get the stuff into the truck. He learned the last time to be supportive and pissed off, but only when we're looking. Because Mom had a conniption last time due to the fact that my brother still wanted to be friends with the douche, and was still on his side of the situation. What can I say, right? He prefers his friends to his family. Who could blame him? Most certainly not me.

It is my youngest brother's birthday today. I find it terrifying that he is almost a teenager. My baby brother, who I've always thought of as...well, a baby for lack of a better term, is now almost to the teen stage. I can only imagine what my parents feel like. Or my grandparents. Their youngest grandchild is nearly of an age that he could be reproducing, and in many cultures would be undergoing the rites of adulthood. He would be preparing for marriage. On top of this, their first great grandchild is quickly nearing his first birthday. I hope that they live to see many more of the next generation.

One of the women at work has decided that she is going to help me find a new boyfriend. Immediately, of course, because that's what I need in my life right now. So, if any guy that is even remotely close to my age (read: within fifteen years), there she is behind me, whispering in my ear as covertly as possible and nudging my back until I stumble forward and ask if he needs any help with anything. Well, there just happens to be this one guy...a wonderful way to start a story, no? Anyway, he came in the other day dressed in his work clothes, no doubt, though I have no idea where it is that he works. He was in the store for a total of maybe twenty minutes absolute tops. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for; he made a bee-line for the Ohio State stuff, snatched up a keychain, paid, and left. Well, for twenty or thirty minutes afterward, this co-worker of mine and I argued about whether or not he was ogling me. So I finally just said that, if the guy came in again (he didn't look at all like someone who'd come into this shop, though I have seen him before), she would win. Well, last night, surprise surprise, he came in again. This time, though, with some girl who seemed to be his girlfriend. But, I still have to tell the co-worker that she won. As he left, I looked at him and smiled really big and said "G'bye, have a great evening." He smiled back, and we locked eyes. Of course, my heart went a-flutter. He has very dark eyes, black hair, and dimples. The dimples are adorable. So, I must say, I have developed a small crush based solely on looks for the first time...no, for the second time in my life. For I am an evil human being. I know it's wrong. But the dimples are so cute! I'd love for him to come back in some time so that I might be able to talk to him, even though he doesn't look at all like someone who I'd like. Though, I shouldn't even want to talk to him. He has a girlfriend, it seems, and I don't want to be a man-stealer person. That's just wrong. We'll just see how it works out, I suppose. But I thought it was funny, personally.

Isn't it hilarious how quickly I digress into nearly normal teenaged dialogue? It's...incoherent, and disgusting. And yet, it's natural.

Useless

So here I sit, after just over a month of relationship goodies. Alone. Again. I feel useless and unwanted, again. It hurts to be told you're not worth it. The fact that I'm not worth his time, or his effort bothers me. Yet, at the same time, I find myself strangely unaffected. I am both disturbed by this, and unsurprised. I have been expecting this for a long while.

It started today with a call to work while I was at Taco Bell getting food. He talked to Brenda, just calling to notify me that he couldn't pick me up after work today. Fantastic, right? I was upset at his unreliability, but mostly fine. When I got home, my mom informed me that he had taken all of his stuff today. All of it. Except, of course, his bed, his television, his fan, etc. So he still has to come back with his parents' truck. I told him when he brought the bed that, when he dumped me, I was keeping the bed. I'll give it back, of course. But I wish I had the balls to keep it.

He says it's because he is stressed with child support payments and school, so he can't be in a relationship. Of course, while mentioning that he found out that Popeye and I were dating less than a month ago...which is a lie. But, y'know, whatever. So I am psycho girlfriend once again.

I'll miss the snuggles, I'll miss the kisses...I'll miss him. Because I do love him, even if the feeling isn't reciprocated.

Part of me is scared that I'll have no other chances. Yet, part of me is glad that I don't have to deal with his baby-ish-ness anymore. I don't have to take care of spiders, or pay for food and gas, or even worry about how he's doing. But I will worry. I will obsess. Because I am a creepy stalker chick.

I find myself wondering why I am so useless. Why am I so hard to get along with? What is so wrong with me that I can't get a boyfriend in real life who's not a complete loser by others' standards. He is the only real-life boyfriend I have ever had, to be honest. Yet, he doesn't have a job, he's annoying, he's a pussy, he's a scaredy cat. But he smirks and I melt. I love him. That will never change. Gah, I hate being a girl.

And the Verdict Is In: April Showers Bring May Showers

It has been a while since I've been here. A lot has happened since then, as it should in any normal person's life. However, the circumstances around the "a lot" are far from normal, methinks. It has been crazy, and I find myself alone in all of this. In a way, though, I've found more friends through all of this than I ever knew. It is a strange situation. Let me start at the beginning, perhaps?

It was about a month ago, I suppose, just after the last blog post, that my father and my brother were fighting. My brother's girlfriend had dumped him, and he wanted to go hang out with friends. My father wouldn't let him go. My brother decided to sneak out while Dad was asleep. So, understandably, Dad got angry. However, the situation escalated as Dad yelled and my brother talked back. Dad eventually screamed something to the effect of "why are you acting like this," as if it was my brother who was the issue. See, we usually just shut up and let him talk. You can't really get a word in edgewise, and if you do it's insubordination if he hasn't asked you a direct question. Regardless, so my brother, who had been told that he and Dad could go for a drive at any time to talk about things that my brother didn't want us to hear, basically told Dad that he wanted to go for a drive to talk about it. Well, Dad was under the impression that he was "stealing the car," or so he claims. So, Dad went out there and ripped Scott out of the car, slammed him into the Probe next to it, and tossed him on the ground, and then began to yell at him. Suffice to say, it was a pretty nasty situation.

Well, a couple days later word got around to my aunt, who called from North Carolina to report the situation. So, rap rap rap on the door came Detective Overly and another officer, our "uncle." We went and reported the situation, figuring that we had no choice but to go down to the station. My brother and I were there for eight hours total, because he supposedly had to go back to the hospital to have an approved examination. But wait, we don't have to go. Oh wait, yes we do, with Overly herself. Wait, no, yes. We got the run around the entire day, nobody could tell us anything or give us a straight answer about anything. Mom and my youngest brother left earlier because they didn't have to be there, but I didn't want my brother to be there alone. Regardless, so that sucked. Then, they put him in jail overnight. There was a bond hearing and stuff, but that's unimportant. Just frustrating, and painful for my grampa.

My mom has been back and forth to court over the past few weeks, for this one, and for a CPS case that was opened because Dad went off half-cocked and told them that she was unfit to care for us because he was convinced that she had called the police and gotten him in jail. She was going to the day before, but didn't end up doing so because he agreed to do anger management counseling, though he never did go. However, our attorney for the CPS case (us being the kids) said that the case there is silly, and he is recommending it closed. He is really nice, and seems to want to help us, and to look out for our interests, not those of the court system. Which is odd, because my dad's attorney doesn't seem to want what's best for us. No, he seems to think that we're the bad guy in all of this, and he's a complete ass to us. As were the police, really, or at least the ones involved with the case. The rest of them were really kind to us, and they fed us and bought us drinks and stuff while we were there, which was wonderful.

Today we had to go into court early and stayed until about five o'clock. Which was insanely annoying. We could have been out of there earlier, but Dad wouldn't take a plea deal. Here's how it went. We arrived early, and waited. Then, the prosecutor came to us at about noon and said that he was offering a plea to Dad to try to keep the kids off the stand, because he really hates putting kids on the stand, where he would force Dad into probation and make him go to anger management, and a parenting class. However, this plea means that he'd plead guilty to Disorderly Conduct. Instead, he rejected the plea, going up against Domestic Violence and Assault, which could land him in jail for up to a year, and putting us on the stand. All to keep Disorderly Conduct off his record. Which was absolutely retarded, though he claimed he had been lied to. Disorderly Conduct, which, by the way, is a level four misdemeanor; it is the same charge as urinating in public. Regardless, so he declined this, which would have allowed us to leave at one thirty or two o'clock. Instead he risked putting us on the stand and had us waiting for another three hours. However, the prosecutor, who is supposed to be trying to convict him, which is why this surprised me so much, offered another plea deal where he'd dismiss the charges if Dad goes to counseling and stuffs, like before. He said that, though he wasn't comfortable with the charges being dropped, he really didn't want to put us on the stand. That man is an angel! I am so thankful to him for it. Dad did take that plea deal, but only because Mom was mad at him I am sure. Mom is crying divorce, sorta, though I am not sure that she'll go through with it.

Also, my boyfriend dumped me. First, he whined that it was because I didn't have time for him. Next, he told me that he never really meant it, and that it was for me, because I didn't have to deal with his stuff anymore. Which I still do. He just made it harder for me because I know I can't trust him. Silly bones can't make up his mind. I'm still getting whined at for that, and for TYOB, too, now. It's stressful, to say the least.

But! I have a job now, which, though stressful (I don't want to go tomorrow!), I do like. Though I'm pretty sure I'm going to fail out of school, which is not good at all. Regardless, I'm gonna shut up now. Bye!

Shoes

So my sweet-ass kangaroo and I are having a bit of an issue. I'm honestly not sure that he's still mine...and that scares me. Craparoni. Wanna know what the worst part is? It's my own damn fault! Again! Hmph to me and my God-be-damned girliness. I try to resist...honest I do! But it's like a high powered uber magnet held in the hand of a two year old, and I am but a paper clip, being slammed repeatedly until I stick.

Didja like that? I did.

Seriously, though...yesterday morning I was having a delightful conversation with the 'roo, and it eventually gets around to something about the suckage of a long distance relationship and not believing that I love him. I rolled my eyes and tried to reassure him...but I honestly wasn't trying very hard. I was frustrated, and I was tired, and I was menstrual, and really didn't want to reassure him. Regardless of the fact that he's always there to reassure me when I really need it.

We got into a conversation about self esteem. He pointed out that his self esteem was so low that he couldn't believe someone would care as much about him. This statement was closely followed by a short description of my issue; I had misplaced what I felt as love. I did care, he believed that, but it's not the same thing as love, and I just didn't see that. Ow? Yeah, uber ow. Not only are my feelings not real, but I'm just too stupid to even realize it!

However, rather than seeing this as him just being emo, for lack of a better term, and understanding that...hell, rather than just saying that it hurt and moving on...I got all hurt, and offended, and basically ended up dumping him. I told him that I did love him, but that if he couldn't believe me we needed to just be friends until he could.

I want him to be honest with me...but man was that a blow...ooooh, it still smarts!

Suddenly, of course, he has an epiphany. Without being able to explain it, he suddenly believes that I love him. Wait, what? This doesn't solve the problem. Not only is he lying...but now he's going to continue to lie to me. Fantastic. Pat on the back, Liv, you're just amazing. Good show.

So, I say g'night, and take off for the day. I go to bed feeling guilty, and wanting nothing but to tackle him with hugs and kisses and apologize. I resolve to apologize tomorrow. My pride is shot, what is there to get in the way?

Hah...hahahaha....hahahahahaha!

Fast forward to the next morning...I get up, and suddenly I don't want to talk to him. I'm tired, I just want to go back to bed. But I get online anyway. I've got to apologize, right? On top of that, I'm going to regret not getting online later.

I'm greeted with apologies from him...he's sorry he was so emo, and he loves me, and he's so very sorry, and he loves me. He doesn't understand why he acts the way he did last night, it only frustrates me and then I get upset and leave. Great. So now I feel even more terrible for my behavior. What to do? Apologize, right?

Hah, wrong again! Noooo! I go all cold and "I don't know what to tell you" and shit. There's no acceptance of apologies, not even an "It's good to see you, baby, I love you!" No. It's silence, and words full of ice and venom. What the HELL is my MALFUNCTION?! What did I want him to say? What did I want him to do? He was apologizing for nothing. I couldn't even squeeze out a measly "Sorry..." or "Whoops, my bad..." or even "G'morning." All he got was "I don't know what to tell you." What would you do?

I talked to him a little bit just a couple hours ago. He was kind of on his way out the door to get a computer, so that could be the reason for this...but I doubt it. I couldn't bring myself to ask if everything was okay, or if he was mad, or say I'm sorry. All I could do was joke and giggle about the computer he was getting. I did manage to say "I love you" a couple times...but there was nothing in response. Have I totally fucked up now? I'm honestly confused as to what we are. I'm hoping he gets online after he sets his new shiny up...but I'm not sure he will. I'm not exactly sure that he really wants to talk to me.

I don't know that I blame, him, either. I mean, c'mon, with the way I've behaved...what would YOU do? I wouldn't blame him if he decided that I most certainly am not worth any moment of his time. He'll take his soul back...and then where will I be? I've not felt this way about anyway...and I've never wanted anything this much in my entire life. I've never even considered leaving central Ohio...and yet, if he asked, and I was able, I'd leave tomorrow. Not without regrets, of course...I love my family. But I would do it. Because I love him.

So why do I insist on acting like such a bitch? I try to hard to be indifferent. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism. I'm afraid he's going to decide he doesn't like me anymore...I'm afraid that if I'm too overbearing he won't want to be with me. If I'm too clingy. Augh...I hate myself so much! Why can't I just chill out?

*sigh* I'm afraid I've yanked the other shoe down.

This is the Stuff of Dreams

Let me see...let me see...what is new? Hm. Well, most recently TQ's mom is on the lam. Apparently she molested another girl I know. A fourteen year old. She's forty-one. Eeeewwww. According to the new reports, she's done this before. Multiple times. There were suggestive photos on the computer they confiscated when the SWAT was over there that were "sexual role-play," apparently, involving minors. It makes me wonder what the content of the photos is. There are sexually suggestive pictures on TQ's Myspace that she took herself...and there are ones that her mom took. But they're mostly normal teenager pictures. I don't think that's what the police are all worried about.

This past week has been absolutely crazy! St. Patrick's Day, two birthdays, and Easter. Cool Bro got a drum kit for his birthday ^_^ He's been wailing on it ever since. Broken...three sets of drumsticks? Including the Rock Band drumsticks that he wasn't supposed to be using. Though, in his defense, I think it's mostly Fat Boy breaking 'em. He hits those drums hard. Oh, yeah, he's started coming over again...by coincidence...after Cool Bro gets his drums. Go figure. My mum, too, got a big gift. She got a laptop! Insane, right? It turns out, though, that all of a sudden the "bank didn't cash the checks"...so we're out of money and can't buy groceries. Yeah, my dad thinks that works. I think not. I think that he spent too much money on gifts and now we're broke and he won't admit it. Though he claims he got a promotion. Yippee!

Popeye and I are still together...wewt! We've passed two months with ease. The issues we've had haven't been big ones at all. There hasn't really been a fight yet, though there have been hurt feelings and...I hesitate to call them arguments. Debates, perhaps? Though I'm awfully sure that offline they'd have been yelling matches...I still don't count them as arguments. Though there have been more disagreements in this relationship than in any other I've had, I must admit. The past two relationships were with a guy who never said anything to disagree with me, and a guy who I always deferred to when talking about anything. He was always right. Before that...well, it usually didn't last long enough, and even if it did, it was a matter of me always being non confrontational as possible. So, regardless, there have been disagreements...but I honestly have never felt this way about anyone before.

I love him so much!