More Dueams

I had another dream about Duane last night. My request for him to be alive had finally come through, but I didn't realize that, in being accepted, I had to do all of this paperwork and go from place to place and get things signed by certain people to keep him alive for exactly 24 hours. Well, since they had accepted me and were busy, they sent him back to being alive earlier than I thought they would and I still wasn't done with the paperwork. It had a deadline too, so I wasn't allowed to put it off. I was so excited to see him but I kept only being able to talk to him for a few minutes or see him a few minutes at a time because I was trying so hard to make sure and keep him alive by completing all of the forms and processes. I was very upset because I just wanted to have one last perfect moment with him. Just one more time that we could look at each other again and just FEEL all the love we had for each other. But my moment never came. I was waiting in one of the offices and I looked at the clock and realized with horror that Duane's last hour was up. I called him frantically, and to my overwhelming happiness, he answered the phone.

"Oh thank god! I thought...you know..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"Yeah, it's awesome! I guess they forgot about me."
"God, Duane, I'm so sorry this is taking so long...try to hold out for me," and then I was back to another office. A few hours later, I called again, I was about 2 hours away from finishing everything, and he answered again. I was more relieved than I think I've ever been. I told him to just wait a couple more hours and I'd have the rest of his time free and I'd gladly spend every last second of it with him.

After the last bit of paperwork I walked out of a different office and happily grabbed my phone and called Duane. Only this time he didn't answer. I had this horrid sinking feeling because I knew by this sign that Duane had been taken back.

So I cried today. I guess I feel like I've been doing this. Listening for anything. Waiting for Duane to come out and talk to me. My closet doors moved yesterday and I asked, "Duane? Is that you?" I'm so desperate to see him again, I've been letting my logic fail me, and every time he doesn't answer back, it's a new wound I have to tend to. Everyone that's been through something similar all say the same thing, "It'll never feel okay, but it gets easier to deal with." I feel hopeless.

I've been plagued with thinking about how my relationship will change with him over the years. I'll grow old, and he'll always be 24. I was always so impressed with his insight and looked up to him when he'd impart some wisdom to me. But one day...there will be a day when I am wiser than Duane was when he left. How can I still maintain my feelings? I WANT to always look at him as a teacher. Going through his emails I find things that I never took the time to notice before. He was such an intelligent person. But...what kind of anguish will I experience when I understand that I have learned all I can from him? He'll take on a new version of death, and it will hurt all over again. All of these steps I take away from him make him more dead. It feels like sawing off your hand to escape a worse fate.

God, the Jokester

I guess, I don't know what else to say about all this. I just prayed a few minutes ago. Let the record show, I'm very much an atheist. I'm very set in my atheism. I haven't been a Christian in a very long time. But I just prayed. I know it's ridiculous. But what I prayed for was that this whole thing was a very realistic bad dream. I said "If you give him back to me, I'll stop drinking and smoking and having premarital sex. Hell, I'll marry him and we will bring you SO many followers with how much love we have! You can have all the money back!" But nothing happened.

Then I faded in and out of thoughts about God. More half-dreams I guess. There was one where I was complaining about "If there's a God, then why doesn't he make himself available? Why doesn't he just come right out and talk to us?" People like to preach about "When God showed himself to David," and "When God talked to Noah." Why the FUCK isn't he talking now? Then I got a phone call, and it was my sister, but I was watching her talk to me on a phone from across the room. But it seemed like she wasn't talking to me, but someone else. Her answers weren't making sense, but I thought, "Maybe God is talking through her to me" and I said, "God, PROVE it's you!" and my sister says, "I would NEVER!" and hangs up the phone, and I'm left thinking, Is this a message for me from God or some stupid coincidence. The dream ended with me yelling into the sky "Why do you have to be so FUCKING cryptic!"

I'm having a hard time being motivated lately. Duane made sure that my future was taken care of, so all this stuff seems pointless now. Maybe it's a mix of that and the fact that I'm working so hard at trying to stay focused, and it's not working because I'm miserable and depressed, but I could die any second and have done all of this for nothing.

Dreams

I had a dream about Duane last night, but it wasn't terrible like I thought it would be. Kind of put things into perspective for me. I've been beating myself up. I've been feeling better, but feeling better has given me such guilt. I should be feeling just as awful as when I found out, every day for at least a month.

In the dream, I had a time machine and went back in time to spend one more day with him. But, we acted just like we normally did. Just going to get some food at a cafe, laughing and being...how we always had been. Just hanging out, me giving him a hard time and him irritating me to death. But as he was leaving and getting into his car for what I knew would be the last time, I remembered to yell "Hey! Duane! I love you so much!" and he just looked at me confused and said, "Okay, Brandie." and got into his car.

It was then that I realized that I'd done enough in our friendship for him to know how much I loved him...I just did it in my own way. I guess I was just upset before because I felt like I should have done it the way he did, very open and outright about it. Always saying it. Emailing me all the time. But I understood then that his way isn't mine and if I had gotten the opportunity to tell him something like that before he left me, it wouldn't have been right to him. Obviously he knew that the way I show affection is minimal and if I do say something sweet, I follow it up with something very surface because I'm not good with things like that.

But the more emails I find, the more I see that I was actually very sweet to him. Telling him I loved him and missed him. That I was glad I had a friend like him. How appreciative I was that he was my friend. I think I'm too hard on myself some times, but at least I'm not so blind that I can't see what we did for each other.

No matter what pain I've gone through so far, I don't regret being his friend. I'm so glad he was in my life. I owe so much of who I am right now to him. And I know I made a big difference in him. Jasmine couldn't believe it when I told her how he used to be in high school. So quiet, no one liked him, didn't have any friends. In fact, I found an email wherein he and I were talking about his lack of friends. His phone had gotten ruined and he was having them send him a new one and the guy at the store asked if he'd like a lender phone until his was sent to him and I said, "Why, no one calls you but me and your mother" and he laughed and said that's what he'd told the guy the same thing. But there towards the end, he was blossoming. So charming, always laughing, such a nice guy. When we started talking again after high school, he told me he had an unhealthy obsession for ending his life and he was bipolar. By the end of his life, he had so many friends, people liked being around him, he was even spending time with friends. He always seemed happy and loved bringing happiness to others, specifically me. I hate saying things like that, because it seems like that's what people always say about loved ones when their gone, but I have no false ideas about him. I know he irritated me to no end on occasion. We had little in common and I thought his jokes were dumb. Never the less, he was a great person and a good friend.

Duane: brandie, you're awesome

me: Thanks :-)

go ahead, Duane

ask me anything

now would be the perfect timeWAIT!

confession first

Duane: I don't really have anything special to ask you. I feel likeyou're honest with me enough when you're sober

go for it

me: Fair

Awww dang

okay

Duane: hey, you know i'm okay with typos

lol

me: well, I haven't told you...but tomorrow I find out about my raise. I didn't want to tell you because 1) I feel like you maybe getting kicked out of school is more severe, and 2) I know how much you care about me and I don't like you to sit around worrying about me all day

3)

Today I found a present that Hank left me and I thought it was really sweet, but I imagined you saying "Well, EYE would do something like that if EYE had a girlfriend

4)

I like it that we have AYE and EYE and capitalized words to emphasize their meanings (I remember YOU came up with that). I used that on Joel today without thinking but I knew it wouldn't have the meaning it would have for you and I, and it made me want to talk to you

5) I think about you every time I go to Yukon, and THAT makes me miss you.

6) I think you're an amazing friend and I"m sorry I get so caught up in acting like a guy that I can't express that to you more often
_______________________________________________________________

Duane: I don't mind how you.. I guess 'interact'? with me. Its a part of who you are and I'm okay with that. I'm glad I got to have for a friend as well. Its been a crazy ride, heh. Don't need you to go all mushy like that just because I did when I was drunk, lol. Thanks though, its nice being told you're appreciated by people you care about. I love you too, crazy.

Hope you have a good day

11:35 PM Or night if you're still awake

See ya soon

me: crazy!

are you calling ME crazy?

I'll beat your ass

Duane: Lol

Duane: Don't act different towards me just because its me, alright?

Appreciate the effort but I'm in it for Brandie. Not 'Duane's Brandie'

3 Days

3 days and he's still gone. I called the funeral home today and they said I couldn't come see him. They said that I could sign a fucking book and sit in the lobby as long as I needed to. In a way, I'm really glad they made that decision for me because if they'd said I could have seen him, I'm not sure what I'd have done. I was wondering if later I'd regret not seeing him, but then I was worried that it'd be worse if I did.

I sobbed a bit here and there yesterday, but no real break down until, during my obsessive internet searching of his name, and watching the news story again, I logged onto myspace to see if Anthony had written me back. When I scoured the internet, I finally found him. Two other people were in the car with Duane and Jeffrey (Jeffrey is Duane's brother that was also...he passed on as well). The two other people were Anthony Morin and Brandon Tudar, though I think they must have mispelled Brandon's name and I couldn't find any way to contact him. Just Anthony. I wrote him the day it happened.

I didn't get to meet you. I was one of Duane's best friends. I was supposed to meet you today. I've been looking all over for you. I wanted to talk to you about the accident. I've been taking this really really hard. I've known Duane since high school. I used to stay with his family in high school. We pretty much talked every day in one way or another. He was my best friend. We made food together all the time when he was up here. Best kitchen helper I've ever had. I haven't stopped crying all day, and I don't think I'll be sleeping. He..was amazing. Best guy with the biggest heart I ever met. I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who was with him, you know? Please message me back or call me. 405-819-xxxx

Well, he wrote me back. Nothing much. Just that he understood and gave me his number. I called it and he didn't answer so I left a message, but it seems like I've been waiting forever for him to call and so I called it again and that time he answered. I was so choked up, I could barely speak. Better than when I recieved the news, but still he had to ask me to repeat myself. He seemed so numb. I had to realize he was going through something entirely different. He got to SEE Duane every day, though they maybe weren't best friends, and he was there when Duane died. It was so hard to get my first question out.

"Did he...did he die instantly? They said he was pinned for an hour, but was he already gone?"

Yes, he did, and if he didn't he was at least unconscious. It should have made me feel better. I think it DID make me feel better, but I still started crying pretty hard.

"Did he have a good time beforehand? Was his last night happy?"

Yes. They were having a great time. Duane was always laughing, always happy. I think that's why he liked me is because I'm usually bitching about one thing or another, and he would talk to me until it felt better.

He told me that when the paramedics arrived, he kept telling them to get his friend out. "Get my friend out first! I'll be okay, just get my fried out." But they didn't listen to him, so I figure it was obvious to them that he wasn't alive. I asked how he died, and Anthony said that he wanted to find out the same thing.

"Did he ever talk about me?"

Yes, he had. But that's all he would say. He'd been through a lot and was going to the therapist. I asked him to tell me his favorite memory of Duane and he couldn't. I asked him if Duane had a lot of friends on base, if everyone liked him. He said they did.

I feel like I'm pulling up carpet to find there's linoleum underneath. Then I take that up and there's more carpet. I finally got my answers about Duane. So that chapter is closed. I know he didn't suffer. The wreck happened suddenly. He was having a good night until that point. So now that that carpet is taken care of, I find that instead of being shocked, I'm now depressed. Duane's chapter is closed. I know he's gone. But what am I going to do now? Now, I'm thinking how am *I* supposed to continue? Though it's been three days, he's still who my last email is from. I looked through a few of them, but there are thousands between us just in the last few years. I tried reading a few letters he wrote me from camp and I couldn't finish the last one I tried to read.

For the most part, I've run out of tears, but my heart still feels like it's ripped and still ripping. It's been at night. I lie down, and there's no distractions and there is a literal pain in my chest. Like I'm being stabbed. It's a real physical pain. The day before yesterday I was determined to live for Duane. I didn't hurt myself because I know he would have been upset with me for doing that. I decided, I'm going to go do all the things I told him I would. I'm going to LIVE. But yesterday, or more last night, I just thought, "Why live?" "Why go on?" If life can be filled with this much pain, why do people keep living?

I was flipping through channels yesterday and every other movie or show was about loss of some kind. Someone's restaurant was ruined and the guy was sobbing loudly. Someone's house burned down. Someone had been broken up with. And though I knew these weren't as bad as what I'm going through, I recognized the pain. Before this, those things would have seemed completely terrible to me. The end of the world. And just thinking that I would have thought that, and then this happened...why go through it? Yesterday, I thought that maybe I'd thought of suicide before, but now going through this, I'd never put anyone through that on my behalf. But this new layer of linoleum is so ugly that I can't even remember that I've taken up the carpet that lied on top of it.

Thanksgiving.

My friend died two days ago. All I could say was "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead." I couldn't believe it. Like a bad nightmare. I repeat worn-out phrases, but they sound so hollow. There's a hole in my heart shaped like him. I had referenced him in an earlier post. He's the one that helped me clean my apartment. He died on Thanksgiving and I was supposed to have spent it with him. Everything sounds so cliche, but I can't help but say them.

"I can't believe he's dead."
"this feels like a nightmare."
"Why him?"
"Why me?"

and everything people were saying felt like cliches

"He'll live on in your heart"
"He's in a better place"

What better place than with me? I keep wondering if he died instantly...the report said that he was pinned for an hour and died on the scene. I was wondering what took him so long to answer my texts. I tried to write something about it yesterday, but I only got the two lines:

Every person I've hugged, every shoulder I've cried on
Reminds me that mine's not the one that you died on

I just think, if he had to die, why couldn't I have been there in his last moments? Was he thinking of me? Did I really get across how much I loved him? Did he know? He only ever wanted to support me in my dreams. I had mentioned that in the distant future I wanted to open a coffee shop and he ran with it. The past few months, we'd talk about it all the time. He believed in me so much more than I believed in myself. He just wanted me to know how special I was. He had saved up a bunch of money and we were going to open the shop together. All of my dreams were just created to make me feel better. I'd never have the tenacity to go through with them. But that's all he wanted for me

Duane: Life gets to you sometimes, but at least you know its just temporary

1:03 PM me: that's why the coffee shop is making me happy now.

my only worry is wondering if I'm responsible enough to keep up with it

1:04 PM Duane: Even if you won't be I'll make sure you do, loll

me: :)

1:08 PM Duane: There's no possible way something can keep this from happening, just so you know

1:09 PM me: That makes me very happy

I'm really glad I've got a friend like you

couldn't get rid of you if I tried.

1:10 PM Duane: lol, thanks


Nothing to keep this from happening. That's what he said. He couldn't have known this would happen, but it still hurts. But true to his word, he named me as a beneficiary on his life insurance policy through the military. He said if anything should happen to him, he wanted me to open "The Spark". That's the name I always had picked out from the beginning. He even made a picture and had photoshopped "The Spark" onto this restaurant. I think now, I'll name it "The Gibson Spark" in honor of the person who would make it possible.

I don't really feel like I'm saying everything I can about what a wonderful and dear friend he was to me. I've known him since highschool. I had a crush on him and he was mean to me. Later, the tables would turn. We went to Europe together. He wrote me letters when I worked at camp this summer. And still, after two days, he's who my last email is from.

Every step I take makes me feel worse. Makes him seem more dead. His mother called me to tell me when the funeral was, but I couldn't ask where the morgue was. It was too much yesterday. I didn't know whether to say "Duane" or "the body" and I lost it. I've been through most of today without crying much. I teared up about two or three times, but I don't feel like I have any tears left to cry. I told someone about it yesterday without breaking down. Another step. They stopped playing his story on the news. Another step. I ran out of people to tell about it. Another step. I found the last picture of him I had in my email.

I feel better today, but not good. I feel bad for feeling better.

TTP

A thought that reoccurred to me throughout high school was, "I see people doing these awful things, manipulative things, but does it make me worse because I do them AND realize that I'm doing it?" I think often times, man suffers greatly with what's right and what's wrong. Or at least I did. I was always wondering if what I was doing was right or wrong. I think religion teaches it's followers that there IS black and white. I suppose what upset me more than my Christian peers was that I didn't really know if what I was doing or how I was thinking was right or wrong. Usually, my struggle was wants and desires vs the bible. The will of god according to the things I learned about him vs the version of right and wrong I saw in actual life and was taught by my upbringing.
Often times, there would be this divided force in my brain. It was an abusive mother and a child-victim. The mother would yell at the girl and tell her she was stupid, and the little girl would argue that she was only trying to be a good person in some form or another. I'm not sure if that was my desire to be a victim all the time becoming a deep-seeded part of my view about the world, or if, since I couldn't figure out right and wrong, that my mind split itself to support the conflict I was having with myself.
I still have these problems sometimes, but after high school, I realized that no one is good and no one is bad, we all just have a different moral code. I feel like I had been taken out of my skin to see that, when it seemed to me that none of my friends or family had that problem, barring my twin sister. Like, looking at yourself from an audience and trying to figure out if I was the protagonist or not. Am I the good guy? Am I the bad guy? Naturally, since the story is about me, I want to be the protagonist. But then, occasionally I get a good glimpse of what I must look like to an onlooker and think I couldn't be a worse person. I'm opportunistic. I'm manipulative. I'm happy to be on top. I think it's funny that all of these things are things I look for to decide I don't want to date someone. And it's true, opposites attract. They also say that you're more likely to date someone who has qualities you desire for yourself, so I guess in that way everyone is selfish.
I don't know if this is going anywhere. Perhaps I'll think on this more. In my journal in high school, I used to write TTP whenever I exhausted a subject and couldn't think of a new perspective for it. Though to Ponder.

Untitled

Doesn't it seem like the most exciting things are untitled? You open your email to see you have an untitled message. I suppose the source is just as important as the fact that it's untitled. I always find my heart missing beats when I open my email to find I have an untitled message from an ex, or a future boyfriend, without really caring so much if it's from an unknown name or someone I'm not interested in talking to. So that's the opening for this blog.

That being said, I haven't been making very good decisions lately. My passive side has been coming out and, instead of facing my problems, I just minutely acknowledge them in hopes they won't try to talk to me. I realized in doing so, I hurt a great many people. I usually am not prone to this method of problem solving, so I've been wondering what's changed that makes me act in this way.

So I slept with this guy (we'll call him One-Nigher),and this other guy (Persistant) who I told I wasn't interested in, but wasn't forceful enough about it found out and got upset. When Persistent left me alone after seeing I had been with One-Nighter, I realized that I hadn't actually wanted to sleep with the One-Nighter because I liked him, but only to get out of what I was already in and did not want to be in. I feel like a person who makes bad decisions. I stopped talking to One-Nighter today, and I'm sure he's really sad about it. He's a very nice guy, but I'm too embarassed to see him. You see, I realized that I not only don't want to be with this man, but actually quite the opposite. I think he's...well I find him horribly unattractive now. I told him this would be the case before the first time. I explained that I have done this in the past, but I don't think that will make this easier for him. I feel this stage has been set by sleeping with him that makes it embarassing to try to act another way around him. This doesn't seem to be very interesting, but since no one is reading this anyway, I think these blogs will become more like journal entries.

Jasmine

The most beautiful Goddess
I want to adorn her with flowers
And rub her hair with fine oils
So everyone sees what I see

but

I want to keep her to myself


My best friend. She's amazing. We cook together and drink tea and wine. I'm so excited. I haven't had a good female friend since high school, so it's been about 5 or 6 years. I'm making her a scarf, and I've been working so hard on it:


The picture doesn't do it justice, but the colors are a bright marigold and deep teal. I'm crocheting petals currently and the centers of the flowers are different buttons.

Any way, she lives right next door to me, so it's nice because we get to go next door when we want to and if we want to be alone, we just walk back over to our respective apartments. I knock on her door to borrow a broom, a potato peeler, honey, and she comes over to invite me places. The great thing is, I have no judgements about her. Or maybe that's a bad thing. I think this is what I do in most of my dating relationships. I just see all good or all bad. I'm not so good at seeing the gray because I get so caught up in the newness and excitement.

But I will probably be moving in June or July if I play my cards right.

And what about my best friend!?!?! It's taken me so long to find her, and I'll have to leave her behind too, but I don't want any regrets in life. The way I see it is that regrets make you old. The older you are, the more regrets you have, and the way to keep yourself young is to do all the things you want to do and not regret. But it's hard to not regret things when you stay in a little box your whole life. Here's a common list I've heard from various people:

I should have slept with more women before I got married

I should have tried to be an actor instead of taking this office job

I should have backpacked around the country before I settled down and bought a house

I used to be so pretty before I had kids

To me this says "Responsibility makes you unhappy." Then why do it? Why do people get married, or have kids, or get jobs they hate, or buy houses? It could be that in some way, these things make you happy, though I wouldn't know. What it seems like to me is that people are told they want these things. By a number of different sources.

My body has been telling me for the last year that I want a baby. A BABY!!! I don't want a baby! My life would be over! I'm sure there are things that I could enjoy about a baby, but I sure as hell don't want one. Still...whenever I walk by a maternity shop my body yearns to be filled with one. To cradle one in my womb. NEVER!!!! I don't think I will EVER have a baby, because I'd be such a good mother to one. I would stop smoking and drinking and I'd lay my life down for it. It's already bad enough when I get around OTHER people's kids.

I guess I'll just stay detached from these things, though. I'm not sure if this is that "new" way of thinking you hear old people complain about in our youth. This won't really have a conclusion. To be continued, I guess.

Eliza Doolittle

I feel like her right now. I guess "right now" isn't very specific. It's been since I started school again after a two-year long hiatus. The thing is, I see the importance of words, but "right now" I've got them all in a big soup bowl in my mind and they jumble together, sometimes in semi-coherent lumps, but for the most part, form this giant useless slush in my mind. I can come up with some interesting points, none of which come to mind now, but I can't form a whole cohesive message to spit them into.

Maybe it'll just be something I see. A guy talking to a girl in class, or the way someone moves their hand when writing, walking a ridiculous "labyrinth" made of canvas on a gym floor. These things make me think, but I feel ridiculous saying them to others. Who am I to think that this idea my brain has formed hasn't been formed somewhere else in a better-spoken persons mind given the same themed stimulus?

I'm a people watcher, but I don't share what I've learned of it often, again, because I'm not so presumptuous to think I've come up with something new in a race of people thousands of years old. I did notice that, when someone does something "embarrassing," it's not the action that causes responses from others; it's the person's reaction to said embarrassing action. For instance, I would hear someone fart in class, and everyone would laugh especially hard if the person who farted got red in the face or looked around nervously. However, if the person who committed the offense didn't look flustered in the slightest, maybe some people would laugh with them, or for a more respected person, he/she could make the people who laughed embarrassed that their response was so juvenile to such a trivial thing as human flatulence. This idea, I've known since high school, but I explained it to a friend the other day and he seemed enthralled and perplexed never having thought of the idea himself.

On the other hand, there are people who think that each of their ideas is a golden nugget to be vomited onto others without the other person having elicited it in any way. A young man came into my work one day, and I hadn't noticed him much at all. When I was in the Nigh Center at the University, he approached me and it was obvious to me that his dominance wasn't questioned often.

He says to me, "I know you. Star Bucks." It was a weird bunch of words to me and I just looked at him to finish. I assume his straightforward nature wins him a lot of friends and admirers, but I'm used to this game and don't bite. I'm honestly not interested. He seems like a copy+paste to me. "No, Java Dave's," he finishes. "Ah. Yes, I work there. I think I remember seeing you there." Of course, this is no compliment since most of Java Dave's patrons are regulars and having this young man come in was a bit of a change.

So he brandishes a newspaper at me and opens it up, "Have you seen this before?"

"What is that? Our school paper?"

"Yeah. This guy here," opening up to a certain page, "he's got something cool to say." I see that it's his picture, and giving him the benefit of the doubt, I take the paper and tell him I'll read it. And then I do. It's the most unwarranted brazen bunch of shit you'd hear from someone who just found out that there's a world outside of high school, and thinks he's enlightened because he might have taken a philosophy class. I'm not saying that I'm a genius, but something that bothers me is people who think they're wise but no nothing. There's a quote somewhere about that, but I won't bother looking it up.

Basically, this guy goes into how UCO won't allow smoking on campus (and a nice aside jammed in here about how he smokes hand-rolled cigarettes) but they have coke machines and it's because they make money off snack machines. He uses a sophomoric approach in which he acts surprised like he "cannot believe" that UCO, who appears to be an advocate for better health, would do such a thing as allow snack and coke machines on campus! Oh the horror! At any rate, I guess I don't want to be one of THOSE people.

At the same time, I guess this is a bit of a hindrance to me because I don't feel like my writing is worth much and so instead of writing crap, I write nothing. A good friend of mine wrote an amazing poem about how he has a pile of garbage he's written, and the final line is, "But like my mom always said, 'You are what you don't shit.'" I loved it, but haven't QUITE heeded it's lesson as of yet. I'm working on it, but when I sit down to write, I feel like I sound like these peddlers of pablum that I so despise.

It does feel better to finally type this out and get this off my chest, though. Usually I just leave it at telling someone, "I don't like to think of myself as someone so important as to amuse myself by telling people something they might already know." I know it's a bit defeatist, but I'm only human. I think the hardest thing for people to do is forgive themselves of their faults. It's why they get so defensive when someone points them out or points out an action implying the fault. It's because people find it hard to forgive themselves for it. That's what I think anyway. I suppose that's all I have to say for now. Signing out.

Batteries

So here's my dilema: I had a topic to write about on here, but I forgot it...luckily I recorded it on my handy little pocket recorder that I keep in my purse. Unfortunately, the batteries died in it. When I realized this, I looked at the tv remote I had brought with me here to the table, but when I put those batteries in, the recorder still said my battery was low. So I thought back to the night before last.

On a sort of date, I went to Christie's Toy Box to FINALLY get a vibrator that I had too long been embarrassed to buy. I get there and I see the guy behind the counter is someone I sort of recognize...one of those peripheral characters that you've seen around at shows or whatnot, but you both know you're too cool to acknowledge the fact that you sort of know each other and to go through the akward phase where you go, "Oh...hey....I think I know you from somewhere, right? Where do you work? No? Where do you go to school? Who do you hang out with? Well, where did you USED to work?" It's just too cumbersome. Anyway, I find one that's not too big and seems like...I DON'T KNOW! I'VE NEVER BOUGHT ONE BEFORE! So anyway, out of the three I pick one that looks like this:

I think that, when I go to check out, these people are trained to be sensitive about these kinds of things. My "date" is making jokes about "later", however, I have no intentions of using it when he's around, and then I think the guy behind the counter thinks I'm one of "those" kinds of girls. I JUST DIDN'T WANT TO COME IN HERE ALONE!!! Which seems ridiculous to me at this point, since I didn't originally want anyone to think I was this lonely...whatever. Anyway, so he TAKES the THING out of the fucking package!!! He's sitting here handling this thing I'm planning to shove in my vagina and it makes me a bit uncomfortable. He's putting batteries in it and he asks me, "Do you wanna feel it?"

"Oh...it looks like it'll be fine," then I realize I seem like I'm uncomfortable, "I mean...yeah. Let me touch it." It feels like a dick. Okay. So he continues to tell me that it takes tripple As. I try to make a joke and say something like, "Oh, I guess if the batteries go out, I won't be using my tv remote for a while..." I think he laughed. I can't remember.

By the time I got home, I was almost repulsed by the amount of trouble this damn thing has caused and I just take it out of the package to put it away in a drawer. Well, I just moved Friday, so nothing FITS in any drawer. I shoved anything I could in them to make it appear like my place wasn't SO messy, but really, it was terribly messy. I just shove the vibrator under my pillow.

The next day, I go pick up my friend who is on leave from the military. He's not much of a lady's mad, but he's a very interesting person. So he's helping me clean, which I was utterly grateful for. I had been kind of in a depression since my place was so messy that I didn't even want to be there. Well, he's folding my laundry, but I notice my panties, bras, and socks strewn about completely untouched. He knows I'm not TOO shy about those things with my friends, but it makes him a bit uncomfortable.

I put up all my clothes and leave to clean the kitchen. Every now and then I go to check on him. But after I got done cleaning the kitchen, I was about to go help him in the room when I glance at the bed and realize with horror that the bed has been made. I look at him questioningly..."Did you....uh....make my bed?" He looked down and, without looking at my eyes, "Yeah." I look back at the bed and see that the blanket it perfectly placed, except towards the top where the pillows look carelessly placed. "So you..."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

So now, right now, I'm trying to decide...do I use the vibrator batteries?