Phantasmagoric Dreams

The Big Reveal

2009-06-16T16:26:00.000-05:00

Okay, guys, I told you a few posts back I had a confession to make. Well, I am The Masochist

Yes, Enghorn, I lied to you. I didn't want to reveal it just yet, and I was shocked you figured it out. So, since I'm coming clean about it, I am not going to be updating this blog anymore. You can follow me over to the new one. I am going in a new direction with my life and my writing, and this one has lost the thread. I am not depressed, whiny, and miserable anymore. I am happy, I am with the guy I love and am going to marry, and I feel much more comfortable writing about sex and kink. I hope you join me. And the new blog is one he knows about and reads, and sometimes comments on.

I'll be leaving this up for posterity. I like to go back and read over my life of the past two years. I've come a long way.

Erm...Okay

2009-06-12T14:16:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, when I look at the Sadist, I wonder "Who is this guy?" He can be so arrogant and narcissistic sometimes. I wonder why I never saw this before. When it's just us, he's fine. But get him around other people, and he acts like a know it all. It's a real turnoff. Sometimes I feel embarrassed. And then I feel guilty because I know why he's doing it. It's a defense mechanism. He's been told for so long by his fucking bitch of a mother that he's wrong, stupid, what have you that he feels the need to prove otherwise.

We haven't had sex in a week. We are sleeping on an air mattress. We tried, but it was awkward. And knowing how...enthusiastic we are, I'm afraid it might pop a whole in the thing. To say I'm getting cranky is an understatement.

Living together 24/7 doesn't seem any different that what we were doing. So, I doubt there will be any problems in that department.

Already I am feeling like writing again. Maybe now that things have changed a little, I'll be up for blogging again. I am not promising anything, though.

She's Like the Wind

2009-06-03T06:27:00.000-05:00

The Sadist is not going to Alaska after all. He's getting deployed to the Middle East next year. So, he's decided he wants to go home until that time. Home is in Illionis. I've known about this for a couple of days. He got everything set up, then told me about it. Then he gave me the option of going or staying. I decided to go. So, next week, I'm moving to Illinois. Maybe it'll be a good thing, maybe it won't. Won't know until I try. And I'd like to try.

As for the blog, it's hard to say what will happen. Maybe life will pick up again after I move. Maybe I've come to a point where I don't feel like blogging anymore for awhile. Either way, for now, I'm finished with it. I don't feel like I have anything else to say. That might change in the future, it might not. I will still answer all emails, so don't hesitate to email me if you want to see how I'm doing and such. And just in case I do start posting again, subscribe to the feed.

Thanks you guys for all the support. See ya later.

I Have A Confession To Make...

2009-05-28T13:16:00.001-05:00

I have assumed a false identity and am blogging on another site writing fiction for people to perv on. That is why you haven't had me around, that and well, that.

There's just not enough going on in my real life at the moment that is blogworthy. The Sadist and I are hanging out again, but we've not committed to anything at the moment. I am not seeing anybody else, not working. Oh, my meds are fucking with my mental clarity, but hell, that's not really something I feel like going into detail over. I just missed writing, and well, this is not sex blog. So, I'm sorry. Maybe I will reveal my alter ego, maybe not. I'll have to see. But if you find you miss me, we've always got email.

Too Sudden, Too Soon

2009-05-24T12:13:00.000-05:00

My step-siblings' mother died last Wednesday. She had an aneurysm that ruptured in her carotid artery. She was 45. Two years younger than my mother. Talk about fucking scary. Now I'm all freaked out that my mother's next. Even if she is a pain in my ass 90% of the time and makes my life seem like hell. I can love her, but I certainly don't have to like her, right?

The funeral's on Tuesday. When I saw them Thursday night, they seemed okay. But we all know what they say about looks. I will be going. Even my mom's going. I'm surprised, considering how much my mom disliked her.

I just wonder though, are they going to resent me and my sisters because our mother's still alive?

The Real Reason I Disappeared

2009-05-20T11:24:00.000-05:00

What qualifies somebody as truly insane? Would it be round 4 with somebody that, if it were anybody else, I'd say should just stay the "Do not touch" zone? Cause if it is, bring me my straightjacket, I'm off to the funny farm.

I know you guys haven't had anything personal from me in a long time, and there's reasons for that. One, because I was working. Yes, was, as in past tense. But the real reason is that things have not been going well for me on a personal front. I didn't want to talk about it. Still don't really, but when September rolls around and well, there's no baby pictures or birth announcements, I'm sure you all would be wondering why. Maybe even think I was some crazy bitch who was trying to get attention with the "I'm preggo!" announcement. Well, I wasn't. I was oh shitting myself so much that I was pretty much in a perpetual state of anxiety. Then I went and got a job and stressed myself out good and proper, and well, it was all too much for my body to handle. At least that's what the doctor said. I know better though. I never should have been in that state to begin with. Am I sad? Yeah, a lot actually.

Throughout it all, he was there with me. And I'm sorry, it doesn't matter how hard you try to make yourself feel or not feel something, it doesn't work. Sometimes, there are things that you can't control, even control freaks like me. The heart wants what it wants. I can't argue with it or fight it anymore. He refuses to go away, and my heart refuses to let him go.

Oh, and just for the record, we're seeing a couples therapist next week before we make any kind of decisions about this relationship. That's not something we did before.

Crazy Women

2009-05-14T02:37:00.000-05:00

ZOMG, Kitten has a new post! Hit the deck!

Now, are you quite finished? Good.

I've been roaming around the blogosphere. I've read blogs that were cute, some that were funny, some that were too techy/academic for me to want to continue reading, some that didn't serve any purpose but to make you think why the hell would anybody put drunken text messages that other people sent you on the internet, some that were heartbreaking, and one that inspired this post.

Some people need to be on medication. Heavy doses of tranquilizers to be exact.

Anyway, I have one question for you guys who read this. What is the appeal of crazy chicks? Why would any sane man want to date a seriously off her rocker kind of girl?

I seriously thought I had major issues, but now, I know I'm normal. Nothing like reading the ramblings of a truly fucked up person to put your life in perspective, right?

Being A Responsible Adult Is Kicking My Ass

2009-04-28T19:55:00.001-05:00

I am sorry I haven't posted in awhile. This new job is kicking my ass. I am soooo tired when I get home that I can't be bothered to write anything. But I'm sure when something interesting happens, I'll be back, and you will all be the first ones to know.

A Good Day To Die

2009-04-19T18:33:00.001-05:00

My little sister has a car. And a license. Should make for some fun times right?

Well, whoever gave her a license needs their head examined. She is one of the worst drivers I've ever been in a car with.

My older sister drives like a maniac, speeding, and changing lanes erratically. I'd still rather be in the car with her than my little sister. My little sister likes to turn (corners) into the other lane without breaking, and drive down the road mere millimeters from the curb. Today, she turned the wheel too far to the right, and ran up on the curb.

I swear, whenever I get into the car and she's driving, I see my life flash before my eyes. I think I should start making peace with everybody in my life, cause who knows how much longer I have left to live.

Things Are Looking Up

2009-04-18T17:37:00.001-05:00

I feel great! I have a new job that I start on Monday, that is not scamming little old ladies out of money. Actually, funnily enough, I'll be working at an old folk's home, doing laundry. It's one of those really upscale retirement communities. My little sister works there. She's one of the housekeepers, and she's been talking about how this place is so understaffed. Well, Thursday was her day off, and she took me out there to fill out an application. I honestly wasn't expecting anything, figured it'd be just like all the other times I'd applied for a job. I answered all the questions honestly, I was even honest about my psychological problems. Well, I walked out the same day with a job. Just like that. And honestly, as much a I quibble about getting old, old people fascinate me. I like to sit and listen to them tell stories about their lives. My grandma used to do it all the time. I miss that.

Fin

2009-04-14T16:17:00.000-05:00

It's over between the Sadist and I. I ended it once and for all.

I don't know how I feel. I don't know if I feel anything at all. I think I might be in shock.

Not Going To The Chapel

2009-04-14T08:32:00.000-05:00

The Sadist and I got into a huge fight last night. All because of what I wrote in the last post was still brewing in my head. When it was all said and done, the relationship was all but over. I told him I saw no point in continuing said relationship if he was going off to Alaska and I was staying here.

Then he dropped the bomb on me.

He told me he had "this crazy idea" of proposing while we were there. My stomach tripped over my heart and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "No!"

"No what?" he asked.

I said something along the lines that we'd only been together (off and on) for six months, and he was the one that said he wanted to know somebody for awhile before doing something like that.

Then he said, "Don't you think we'd know each other longer while we were there?"

I didn't tell him that was totally beside the point and my no really meant "No, I won't marry you."

Guess that answers that question.

A Little Bit Jealous

2009-04-13T05:09:00.002-05:00

I told the Sadist back at the beginning of our relationship that I don't get jealous. I still don't think I do, but I don't know what else to call this feeling.

See, he still talks to all of his exes. And lately there's been one who, in my opinion, is crossing a line. One day, we were online messing around, and this chick started IM'ing him. I was watching his webcam, and I could see him typing, but he wasn't typing to me. I asked him who he was talking to, and he said "Somebody who won't take the hint." That irked me that he didn't just tell me who it was. So, I told him I had to go and turned Yahoo off. Later on, he I called him, and he was like, "Can I call you back, I'm trying to talk, and it's hard to type and talk on the phone at the same time," So, I asked him who he was talking to, and he said it was the person from that morning. I asked him who it was, and he told me it was the ex. I said, and not very nonchalantly either, "What does she want?" He said she was asking questions about me. Oh really? I told him that she had no business asking questions about me and he better not tell her anything and that if she really wanted to know she could ask me herself. I even told him to give her my Yahoo screen name so she could. She never did, but whatever. I found out later that the whole conversation started because she wanted to know what he thought some fucking dream she was having meant. Um, dumbfuck, why are you asking YOUR EX, the guy YOU BROKE UP WITH, shit like that? Then I find out about a week ago that she told him she thinks him going to Alaska is him running away from his problems, like he's always done. I swear, she's fucking retarded, him going to Alaska is part of his job. He goes where they tell him to.

I have never stayed friends with any of my exes or still talked to them after the relationship was over. I could only see myself being friends with them if I had ulterior motives. Like, I still loved them and thought maybe there was a chance that later on we could get back together. Or I just wanted dirt on their new relationship that I could use against them later on, like if they started fighting and I could be all like, "Well, you could do better anyway,". That's it. I can't think of any other reason why I would still want to interact with them. I used to run into one of my exes a lot because we went to all the same places. I'd say hi, but that was it. I didn't get all chummy with him, and I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to know what he thought my dreams meant. I tried telling him that the latter could be why she still talks to him, and he won't listen. He said, "Why do can't somebody just be a friend and that's it?" Please. People as a whole are self-serving creatures. And unless somebody is a saint or something, the acrimonious feelings of a bad relationship and a breakup don't tend to lend themselves well to selfless friendships.

Another thing that pisses me off about him is that he won't talk about what happened with them to me, he talks about it with THEM. Like Dumbfuck was talking to him about her most recently failed relationship and it somehow got into why the Sadist and her didn't work out. He doesn't tell me shit unless I throw a bitch fit and demand he talk about it. It's too hard to talk about that kind of stuff, he says. It's hard to share his emotions. Oh, boo fuck wah. You expect me to, whether I want to or not.

This is simultaneously the best and worst relationship I've ever been in. The best because he treats me well for the most part. The worst because I've known from day one that he's all wrong for me and I'm just waiting and hoping that he'll see the light and end it once and for fucking all so I can breathe again. I don't have the guts to end it myself. Even my uberbitch routine doesn't faze him.

I know, I know, I need help. Don't remind me.

Happy Zombie Jesus Day

2009-04-11T05:02:00.001-05:00

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the Sadist is a Christian. An extremely liberal one, and belongs to a very liberal (Anglican) church, but still. He wants me to go to mass (I know next to nothing about the Anglican church, so I don't know if mass is the right word.) with him on Sunday. Morning. 8 in the morning to be exact. Now, I like my sleep. Me no want to get up at 6 am. That is just inhumane to me. But since it's important to him, and he wants me to go, I decided to suck it up and go.

This means I'm going to have to wear a dress. I haven't been seen in a dress since 1995. I don't own anything that would pass as a dress, that's not black and slutty or not black and covered in D rings and chains. That means I have to go shopping. At a normal store. And I'm talking a normal store that is not Old Navy.

When I told the Sadist this, he laughed and said that was going with me. For some reason, I get the feeling that he would find my mortification at trying on dresses very entertaining. These crazy pastel puffy dresses that would make me look like a Peep on steroids. At least it's not a maternity Easter dress. I have awhile before I have to start worrying about that. Thank Bob I have lots of sweatpants and tshirts. I could probably get away with wearing his sweats and tshirts too, if need be.

When I was little, I used to go to church. Easter Sunday is not a new phenomenon for me. I still have an old Easter dress my grandma bought me when I was about four. It was my first special outfit. That Easter still sticks in my memory. That's why I kept it. But I remember getting up at the ass crack of dawn and going to church, and sitting outside and freezing for sunrise service. And then staying at church for what seemed like all day.

I remember one Easter in particular. The church decided to have an Easter egg hunt for the kids. I found a Golden Egg. There was only 5 of them. I found the fucker, I swear I saw it first. I touched it first! But some little shithead saw me pick it up and tried to take it away from me and there was a huge fight. People who know me know that I do not give up if I am right, and that day, I was right. I threw the biggest baby fit I could when one of the adults took that egg from me. They thought I had tried to take it away from the other kid. Nobody but that kid saw me pick it up, so they took his side. Fucking bullshit, let me tell you. Of course, I went and cried to my grandma after it was over about the injustice of it all. Of course, she took my side, and told the lady who was in charge that I should have gotten a prize for finding it too since they couldn't prove who had it first. Grudgingly, she gave in, and I got a kick-ass Easter coloring book. Even then, I had a very strong sense of fair and unfair.

As I got older, I stopped going to church, much to my grandmother's disappointment. After I turned 18, I don't know how many times she tried to goad me into going to church. But even though I stopped going to church regularly, I still showed up on Easter Sunday. I never went on Christmas, just Easter. The last time I went, I was with one of my exes. The one who was 11 years older than me, and very condescending. Him, me and my stepmother. For a few hours, it felt good to listen to people talk about being good to each other.

Now when I go, it reminds me of my grandmother, and even though she died 2 and a half years ago, going to church on Easter Sunday makes me feel close to her. Some people might wonder why Easter and not Christmas, and it's because she died too close to Christmas for me to feel anything but sorrow. And Easter was the day Jesus was resurrected. Kind of poetic if you ask me.

Do you celebrate Zombie Jesus Day?

poll by twiigs.com

Precious and Fragile Things

2009-04-10T11:00:00.000-05:00

Continued from here.

I don't know why I gave in, but when he asked me to stay the night, I did. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe not, but it was what we both needed. And I can say that for certain.

I sat down on the side of his bed and pulled my shoes off. Then came the socks.

"Ew, that's what the smell is," he teased me. I balled my socks up and lobbed them at him. They smacked him in the face, and I started to laugh. "Oh, it is on now, girl."

"I feel so threatened, can't you tell?" I sprawled out on the bed.

"You will be when I get done with you," He left the room and I could hear him in digging around in the hall closet. I sighed. What a way to ruin a perfectly good moment. His demonic cat jumped up on the bed on the Sadist's side, and made himself a nest on the pillow. I watched him, and then something on the nightstand caught my eye.

I picked it up. It was a jewelry box. I held my breath as I opened it up. I don't know what I was expecting. But I like all the sappy chick flicks I'd seen, I was hoping it was a diamond ring. I flipped the lid open, but there was nothing in it. I stared at the box in my hand, eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

"This is war!" he said, coming back in the bedroom. I just looked at him with the box still in my hand. Even with the Nerf gun in his hand, and a Ramboesque bandanna on, the playful mood dissipated quickly. He sat down on the bed, taking the jewelry box from me.

"What's it for?"

"I bought an engagement ring." He sighed.

"Where is it?"

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out diamond ring. It was square cut, kind of small, but it was beautiful. I gasped a little when I saw it.

"When did you buy it?"

"Back in January."

"January?" I said, understanding slowly dawning on me. "Is that what you were showing [the Bride]?

"Yeah. I've been carrying it around in my pocket ever since. Just...just waiting."

"For what?"

He didn't answer me. I knew the answer without him telling me. It seemed like such a lifetime ago. A lot had happened in the few months since then. Neither one of us were even sure this is what we wanted anymore. At least not with each other. Maybe if he had asked me when he bought it, things would be different. Maybe not, I don't know.

It's funny. I love him, and I know without a doubt that he loves me, but still it seems like forcing a key to turn in a lock it wasn't meant to go in. I don't know what it is about relationships, but they tend to bring out the worst in me. Is it the pressure that the status creates that I implode under? All I've ever wanted was somebody who accepted me, faults and all, and could still love me. I've found someone who does, but it just...I don't know anymore.

We went to bed shortly after that, and even though he had his arms wrapped around me and I felt safe and comfortable, I didn't sleep at all that night.

title comes from one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs, called Precious. Worth a listen.

Third Time's the Charm?

2009-04-10T09:09:00.000-05:00

I saw the Sadist day before yesterday. The last time I saw him was the pizza incident. No, wait, I take that back, the last time I saw him was my first doctor's appointment. That was two weeks ago, I think. Hell I can't remember. Even the phone calls have come less and less. And when we do actually talk, all we do is fight.

I had gone over to his house because he called me and said we needed to talk. So, I showed up two hours after I said I would because I really didn't want to see him. He was mad, let me tell you. So, we fought some more. Then he asked me something that stopped me mid-triade.

"Do you not want anything to do with me anymore?"

Silence. I just look at him, like I'm bored, with my arms crossed.

"Because if not, I'll be on the first plane out of here, and we can just skip all this unpleasantness and get on with our lives."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, and I thought he wasn't going to answer me, as long as it took. "I got a phone call today. Long story short, if I want, I can be in Alaska by June."

"Then fucking go. You don't need my permission."

"Is that what you want?"

Without thinking I said, "Yeah, that's what I want. I want you out of my life for good."

"Fine. You have gotten on my last fucking nerve, Becca."

"Oh, don't even go there. You got on my last fucking nerve a long time ago."

"Why are you such a bitch to me? I have been sitting here trying to figure out for the longest time what I did to piss you off so badly, but I'm starting to think that maybe you're just fucking crazy after all."

My fists were balled up at my sides. I swear, if I had anything closeby, I would have thrown it at him. Even if it did confirm that I was batshit. Angry tears started to well up in my eyes. "You ruined my life!" I screamed at him.

He just looked at me, blinking in shock. I started sobbing, couldn't stop myself. I was crying so hard that my stomach started twisting up in knots and I thought I was going to throw up on his carpet. I ran to the bathroom, narrowly avoiding the floor and my dinner came back up. I sat down on the bathroom floor, curled into a ball, still crying. The cool tile felt good on my forehead.

I had tried so hard to keep these feelings at bay. But I would be lying to myself and everybody else if I said I didn't feel like all the plans I made for myself were ruined. I never really wanted responsibility, and now I feel like a caged bird. It's a really tough pill to swallow, and now I think I know how my mother felt all these years.

I heard the bathroom door open behind me. I heard rather than saw him kneel down beside me on the floor. I tried to sit up and squeeze myself into the corner, but he tried to pull me close to him.

"Don't touch me!" I tried to shove him away, but wrapped his arms around me so tightly I couldn't struggle. He stroked the ends of my hair softly with one hand, the other searching for my hand. We stayed like that for a long time, nobody speaking.

"Stop it," I said, half-heartedly after awhile.

"Stop what? Stop caring about you?" he said quietly.

"Stop being nice to me. Why do that? I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve it."

"Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment," He chuckled softly. "Becca, you're not horrible." He squeezed me tighter, his cheek resting on the top of my head. "I'm sorry."

Sniffling, I asked, "For what?"

"For ruining your life. For yelling at you. For making you cry. For all of it, really. I really wanted this to work, but I didn't know what I was doing. I still don't."

"Neither do I. Sometimes when you try so hard to make something perfect, it just ruins it." I sat up, legs crossed. I wiped my nose. He sat down facing me and took my hands in his.

"Are we ruined?" He asked.

"I don't know." I felt more tears spring to my eyes. I couldn't meet his eyes, so I just stared at the floor in front of us.

"Do you still want me out of your life?"

"No." I started crying again, softly. I let him put my head in his lap and pet my head. We sat like that in silence for a long time.

"You didn't ruin my life," I murmured.

"Then why did you say I did?"

"I was mad. I don't know how to explain it to you. I've been so fixated on the fact that this wasn't the storybook fairytale love story I thought it should be, and I blamed you for it. Blamed you for not being something other than who you are. But I never told you that I wanted that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

I sighed. I opened my mouth a few times, but I couldn't get the words to come out. He continued to pet me, waiting patiently for my answer. Finally I said, "You've seen Pretty Woman, right?"

"Maybe, with [ex-girlfriend]."

"Well, you remember the end? After she left and she's back home he drives up in the limo and climbs her fire escape even though he's afraid of heights, just to tell her he loves her. That kind of stuff."

"Hon, you don't have a fire escape."

I laughed softly. "I'm being serious here." I shoved at his knee playfully. "I like the sappy, romantic stuff."

"God, you are such a girl sometimes." He said. I knew without looking though that he was smiling. "Come on, get up. My ankle's falling asleep."

We got up off the floor. I tried to leave the bathroom, but he just stood there looking at me, not moving. Then he put both hands on the sides of my face, and kissed me softly. Then he whispered in my ear that he loved me.

It was a start.

to be continued...

Happy Happy Joy Joy

2009-04-10T03:42:00.001-05:00

It doesn't take much to make me happy. And I don't know what it was, but I managed to change my design. Of all the ones I've used, I think this one is the prettiest.

Well, fookin' 'ell. My favicon doesn't work in Safari. It does in IE, Firefox, and Opera, but only if you clear your cache first. Don't know about any other browser. I only have those four on my computer. Oh well. Not many people use anything other than IE or Firefox. I'm just glad I could change it from pukey green.

I Don't Heart Google At The Moment

2009-03-29T14:12:00.000-05:00

I am getting PISSED! It's been over a month since I tried to change my template. I'm honestly getting sick of looking at this white on green and blue. But fucking Google, they have to go and fuck everything up, and now any design I want to use, it won't let me.

I'm seriously thinking about moving this train wreck over to Wordpress and paying the 15 bucks to able to use custom templates and to be able to have my own domain. You hear that, Google?

Anyway, sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I'm kinda taking a break from blogging. There's not much to write about except pregnancy and doctor visits, and I do distinctly remember promising you all this was not going to turn into a mommy blog. My only other recourse is talking about BDSM, and I don't want it to become a sex blog either. I'm not comfortable writing about my sexual escapades for the whole world to judge. You all know I'm kinky so let's just leave it at that.

To Be Young Again

2009-03-22T21:48:00.000-05:00

That's it. I've decided I hate being an adult. There are decisions I'm just not equipped to make. What's right, what I want, the consequences of my actions and decisions. I want no part of it anymore. I wish I was still a child, so these decisions could be made for me. If my heart wasn't involved, I could make the decision and live with it.

If you love someone, you want to be with them. But what if you don't trust them? What if they did something, even something trivial, and as a result of their not thinking, you have been hurt immensely? Then what? And what if you know what will happen, and you will feel stupid for being 'that girl' and should have known better? Who is the one who is really being punished here, when he talks to some girl and the first thing your head is he's going to fuck her first chance he gets?

Hell Week

2009-03-16T20:09:00.000-05:00

I wish I had stayed home last week. I really do. Cleaning would have been less of a punishment than spending most of the time in a car with my parents.

Since there wasn't a whole lot of money invested in this trip, we drove to Vegas. Took almost two days to get there, and almost two days to get back. And all the way there I got to listen to my dad bitch about how somebody had to pee. Um, you got three little kids who can't hold it very long, what did you expect? Add to that a pregnant woman, and gee, you're gonna have to stop a lot.

We left very early Monday morning, and got there around dinner time Tuesday night. And that's only because my dad and my sister's husband drove like bats out of hell. Considering my dad's attitude on the drive, I could tell it was shaping up to be the worst family vacation EVAR.

Now, bear in mind we aren't rich. So, we didn't stay at any of the big resort type hotels. We stayed at a Best Western. And even that was expensive. And my dad bitched about it too. Mainly because he was having to pay for me and my sister. No, scratch that, because he had to pay for me. So, we got into it the 200th time he started bitching about it, and I said, "Well why the fuck did you bring me then?"

He says, "I didn't want to, but your mother-" he sneered, "didn't think it was fair."

So, I looked at her and said, "The next time, I don't care if it's fair or not, just leave me at home."

My older sister, who thinks her opinion is warranted all the time, says to me, "Why don't you just be grateful that she thought of you at all." Oh, there we go, just reinforce how much of an afterthought I really am. Cunt.

I angrily start eating my dinner. Which was McDonald's by the way. Real fancy.

After that, we (by we, I mean everybody but me) decided to go to bed. So we went back to the motel and went to our separate rooms. Me and my younger sister had our own room. Thank God for small miracles, and my older sister and her husband and their kids had their own room, and my parents had their own room. I wasn't tired, neither was my sister, so we decided to stay up and watch T.V. So, about an hour or two later, my sister knocks on our door and wants me to watch her kids for her. Her and her husband are going to go spend some time alone. I don't babysit. She knows this. I have told her never to ask me to watch them again, but yet, I still get manipulated into doing so. So, this time I decided to stand my ground. And it caused a huge fight. My mother heard us and decided to get in the middle of it, and then there were two ganging up on me. At one point I said something like, "Why can't [Little Sister] watch them? They listen to her." and my mom said "Why can't you? You don't do anything."

That's when I started to cry. Hello, pregnant here. Or have you forgotten, dipshits? You're not supposed to stress out a pregnant woman.

"Oh, stop crying." My mom said, nastily. She thinks whenever I cry I'm the one trying to manipulate her. I felt my fists ball up at my sides, and I had to walk into the bathroom to keep from hitting them both. My younger sister just sat on her bed, staring at the t.v. Playing Switzerland. Seems like the only person on my side anymore is the Sadist. At that moment, I wished he was there with me. At least he would have given me a hug.

My sister, realizing I wouldn't relent, asked my little sister to go over to her room and watch her kids for her since "somebody is being a bitch, as usual." I heard her quiet, defeated answer and then they all left and the door slammed behind them. I went back into the room proper and rummaged around in my purse for my phone. My tears had slowed down, but they hadn't stopped. I dialed the Sadist's number, and he answered on the second ring.

"I hate my family!" I declared as soon as he answered.

"That bad?" he asked, sympathetically.

I spilled out the whole miserable story thus far to him, crying all over again.

"Well, it could be worse," he said when I was finished.

"How?!" I demanded.

He changed the subject and started talking about his day. Then he asked me how I was doing. I sat there for a minute, speechless, thinking he paid so little attention to me that he couldn't possibly remember why I'd called in the first place.

"How do you think I am doing?" I said, angrily.

"No, no, I mean how're you doing...ya know...you know what I mean."

"Oh. That." I said, understanding dawning. "Fine I guess. I feel a little sick, but I'm getting used to it." We talked for a little while more, but then I hung up the phone, saying I was going to bed. Instead I flipped through channels on the t.v. until I passed out.

The next morning I was rudely awoken by my mother. It was the start of the Vacation From Hell. The motel had a free breakfast so we went and got something to eat. I thought the point of family vacation was to spend time together as a family. Apparently not. My mother decided that her and my dad were going to go to the casino all freaking day, and my sister was taking her kids to see various things, and my younger sister and I had a choice as to whether or not to go with my sister or my parents. Then my dad chimed in with "If you go with us, you have to use your own money," knowing full well me and my younger sister didn't have any money. And no force on earth could force me to spend all day with my sister and her brats. So, I said I was just staying there.

"Fine," my mother snapped. "But I don't want to hear you whining that we didn't try to include you."

"Fine." They all started walking off in the directions of their vehicles and I called my mom back.

"What am I supposed to do about lunch and supper?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to be a brat and stay here."

"Well can't you give me some money or something so I can get something to eat?" I practically begged her.

"No. Because your dad will know."

"Mom, I have to eat!"

Pissily, she pulled out ten bucks from her wallet and thrust toward me. "Make it last!" Then she stormed off across the parking lot. I glared after them, then when I felt more tears pricking my eyes I want back to my room. Okay, this is Vegas. A huge tourist trap. Everything's inflated here. I'd be lucky if I could get something from Micky D's and have some change left.

I flopped down on the bed and turned the t.v. on. Nothing was on. Doesn't surprise me, since I don't watch t.v. in the first place. I tossed the money on the beside table and lay down. Then fell asleep for a few hours. The rumbling in my tumbly woke me up. I had no idea where anything was and was afraid to go looking for something and get lost, so I went and got change and ate out of the vending machine. It sucked.

Then I decided to go swimming. I only stayed out there for a half an hour because some guy kept staring at me and I was afraid he was going to try to talk to me. Yeah, call me paranoid, but that paranoia is probably what has kept me alive.

Around 7 or so, my family came back. They had all apparently met up and gone out for dinner. They had to-go boxes in their hands, and when my younger sister set hers down, I smelled steak. I could hear my mom and my older sister talking excitedly. Apparently my mom won some money. I tried not to start crying again, knowing full well they wouldn't have brought me anything. It was my punishment for being a brat. I rolled over as my mom came in our room and told us we were getting up at 7 so we could leave. Then she asked if there was any money left from the ten she gave me. I gave her four dollars and some coins. She stared at it for a minute then asked me what I'd spent it on.

"Poptarts. And Zingers. And a bag of chips and a can of Dr.Pepper."

"Why didn't you get something to eat?"

"Because I have no idea where we are, and no idea where anything is around here. You could have brought me something. Or at the very least come and got me since you were going to go eat."

"You should have come with us. You didn't have to be such a brat about it all. You could have gone to the zoo with your sisters."

"And be bored and listen to [Older Sister] be a bitch to me and her kids all day?"

"You could have gone with us,"

"And be bored and listen to Dad bitch all day?"

"Just make sure you're up and packed by 8." she said and then left. Right about then my stomach started growling loudly. My sister heard it, and picked up her to go box and offered it to me. I declined, thinking this would just be another thing I'd get bitched at about, "taking advantage of my sister". She told me she didn't want it, she was full, and it would probably just wind up in the trash anyway if I didn't eat it. My stomach overpowered me and I took the box from her. There was half a steak and a bunch of fries, and greedily I ate it all. A couple of times I offered her some fries. I didn't want her to think she had to give me her leftovers. She said no.

After I finished off the steak and fries I decided I should probably go to bed. As we were getting dressed for bed, my sister looked at me dead on and said, "I should have stayed here too."

"Why?"

"Because all [Older Sister] was scream and yell at [Nephew] and [Niece] because they got tired."

The bitchy part of me felt smug that I wasn't the only one having a lousy time. We went to bed and got up and ready to leave the next morning. The trip home was just as bad as the trip to. I swear, I'm never going anywhere with these people for an extended period of time ever again. Maybe I'll get that job in Chicago I applied for. Then I'll never have to see them again!

Blurring The Lines

2009-03-14T18:43:00.001-05:00

It's true what they say about pregnancy making you extremely emotional.

I got back from my trip Friday afternoon. I called the Sadist to let him know we got home okay. The boy has been treating me like I'm glass. He goes grocery shopping with me and carries everything out to his car so I don't have to lift a thing. I'm all like wtf?

Anyway, I called him, and told him we were home and that I was really tired and was thinking about taking a nap. I kept bitching that family togetherness is over-rated (that deserves a whole post of it's own) and my family is making me feel homicidal. So, he told me I could come over to his apartment and take a nap if I wanted to get away from them for awhile. Which I have come to figure out is code for "I want to see you, but we're not dating and it would be weird if I asked you come over." I thought about it for a minute, and then said, "See you in ten,"

I knocked on the door 20 minutes later. He had a shit eating grin on his face when he opened it. "You're late. As usual."

"I never said which 10, did I?" I said, without missing a beat. He shut the door behind me, then gave me a long, tight hug. Then he started stroking my back and I almost fell asleep standing up. I pulled away from him before we both fell to the floor. Wordlessly, I took his hand and walked down the short hallway to his bedroom. I crawled on the bed, kicking my shoes and socks off as I went. He followed my lead and laid down on the bed facing me. He put his arm around my waist and stroked my hair, and in seconds I was asleep. I had some extremely weird dreams which left me uneasy when I woke up.

I opened my eyes, and it was dark. I glanced sleepily at the clock next to the bed and it was almost 9. He wasn't there, but I saw light under the door, so I assumed he was still home. I stretched and walked out to the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead there was a note on the kitchen counter. It said he had been called into work and he wouldn't be back until his usual time, and asked if I wanted to eat dinner with him when he got back. Something in my head said I should just go home, and not make this anymore complicated than it was, but my heart wouldn't let me leave. So I called him up, and told him I wanted pizza. Which is code for "Yes, I want to spend as much time as humanly possible with you, but we're not dating anymore and my pride won't let me tell you I still love you and I miss what we had so much I cry at night."

An hour and a half later, he walked in the door and found me sitting in front of the t.v. yelling at the X-Box. (I was very surprised to notice I still had a profile on his X-Box.) He started laughing and I paused my game, and turned to look at him. I had to resist the urge to jump up off the floor and run over to kiss him. He set the pizza down on the counter, and like a puppy begging for a scrap, I followed him into the kitchen. He opened the box, but as soon as the smell of burnt cheese hit my nose, I felt like I was going to ralph. Almost did right then. I ran to bathroom to catch my breath and get away from the stench. Note to self, pizza is out for the duration.

When I emerged from the bathroom, he smiled at me and said, "I have some clothespins if you want to put one over your nose."

"I know you do," I said, blushing a little.

I decided to try the pizza again, pinching my nose shut so I couldn't smell it. It stayed down, and I ate three pieces. We talked about nothing in particular, and he teased me like he always does, but at one point the teasing became a little too personal, and I started to cry. It wasn't because he'd said anything hurtful, it was because it reminded me of our relationship. We aren't "just friends", no matter what we say to each other and everyone else. And it hurts, knowing we're lying to ourselves.

I stood up suddenly, tears still running down my face and went to the closet for my coat. He tried to stop me, but I wouldn't let him hold me while I cried. That was something lovers do, not friends. Quietly, I asked him to drive me home, trying to hide my tear-stained face from his eyes. Wordlessly, he put his coat on and followed me out the door. And I wondered if he was hurting as much as I was.

Not Home

2009-03-08T12:50:00.001-05:00

By the time many of you read this, I will be gone. On vacation. As in family vacation. This has been planned for awhile, but considering how much I hate spending time with my immediate family, I wasn't sure up until last night whether I even really wanted to go. I seriously considering feigning the flu or something so I wouldn't have to, and I'd have an entire week to do whatever the hell I felt like. But then I realized that meant I'd have to clean, so I opted to endure family togetherness instead. We is going to Vegas. Here's hoping I get rich!

I Wish It Were April Fool's Day

2009-03-02T02:17:00.000-06:00

I'm about to drop a huge fucking bomb on you all. I hope you all are sitting down. If you aren't, I am not responsible for what happens when you fall over from shock.

I'm pregnant.

There, I said it. That is the whole load of what the fuckness that's been going on lately.

I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I'm scared shitless, terrified I can't be a good parent and thinking the best thing would be to put it up for adoption. I have no money or job, no means whatsoever to take care of a child. And let's face it, I'm selfish. I like being able to come and go as I please, not asking anybody else's permission to do something, and not worrying about if something I do is going to hurt anybody else's feelings. It's also why I like being single. I like sleeping late, staying up late, watching whatever I want, that kind of shit. Whenever I've babysat my sister's kids, it just wore me out. Constant nagging, fighting with each other, all that stuff. I love them, and I know their mother is horrible at being a parent and they need somebody's attention. But I just couldn't put up with it more than a few hours. What if I feel the same way about my own kid?

On the other hand, I think I want to try. I've said many times before that I need to grow up, and a child would force me to grow up real quick. But it's not just that. I would love to be able to nurture somebody, teach them what I know and watch them grow up. Somebody that I can love. It has nothing to do with what some women say when they have a child that they wanted somebody who would love them and never leave them. I don't feel that way at all. I want somebody that I can love unconditionally. As much as I have loved people in my life, I've always felt that there were conditions placed on that love. Maybe they weren't verbalized, but I truly believe the only people who will love you unconditionally are your parents, even then it's a crapshoot.

I'm freaking out. Usually when I feel like this, I smoke a crapload of cigarettes or drink myself into oblivion, but that's no longer an option.

Yesterday was my sister's birthday, and my mother "accidentally" let it slip out to my sister, who then made some not to subtle, not so nice remarks about it. I guess she thought just because it was her birthday she had the right to be extra cunty. Like her parenting is superior to anything I could do. She doesn't deserve her children. I've seen the way they are, they want her love so badly, but she can't be bothered with them. But that is a whole load of shit I really don't want to get into.

Now, for those of who are worried, this will not turn into a mommy blog. I will still say fuck, shit, cunt, and whore, and talk about sex. Which I may not be getting ever again. Hmm, maybe I should marry the father, at least he'd be obligated to fuck me when I'm as big as a house. (I shouldn't have to state the obvious, but the father is the Sadist. He thinks we should get married, but that is for another post.)

If Life Is About Learning, Here Are Some of My Lessons

2009-02-26T01:53:00.000-06:00

After the other night with the Sadist, I have been thinking about my life, and my past, and that maybe I have learned a thing or two in my old age. My age has been a running joke between the two of us for as long as I've known him. Yeah, I may be 25, but some days I feel like I'm 85.

I'm going to share what I think I've learned about my relationsips with you all, because I think writing it down will help cement it in my brain and help me remember it when I'm bitching about my relationships later on. Cause we all know I will at some point.

And I know I was going to finish my story about our non-date the other night, but suffice it to say after the pizza place, we went to one of my favorite spots outside of town and watched the sun go down, then we went and saw Coraline (it was okay), then he showed me his new apartment and guilted and teased me into helping him move this weekend, and then I fell asleep in his car on the way back to my house and he put me to bed. I woke up the next morning, hoping he'd still be there, but he wasn't. I was kind of sad and at peace with it at the same time. So, moving on.

Shawn taught me how strong I was and still am.

C**** taught me what I will and won't put up with.

J**** taught me that I'm better off on my own than with somebody that doesn't respect me.

L** taught me that I am desirable.

T**** taught me to open up and be real, even if it meant getting my heart broken.

And the Sadist taught me that just because it's not the way I think it should be doesn't mean that I'm not loved. I know he loves me. I know he will always love me, in his way. But most importantly, I believe that he loves me.

But through it all, I learned that I deserve to be loved with reckless abandon, because that is how I love. It's all or nothing with me. And I think that's how it should be. Now, if I could talk myself out of this insane idea that I have to get married to be happy, the Sadist and I would have probably been happy together for many years.

Okay, maybe two.

Hey, shut it. That's a long time for me. ;)

Pizza and Ex-Boyfriends

2009-02-24T04:37:00.000-06:00

I'm weak, I know this. So when the Sadist called tonight and asked if I was hungry, I said yes.

He pulled up in my driveway, and I got in his car. We, (actually I) decided we wanted pizza, so we drove downtown to my favorite pizza place. I didn't say anything in the car. I felt like I did on our first date. Nervous as hell and asking myself what the fuck I was doing. And just like then, I was intrigued. I'd gotten to know him well enough to know that sponteneity wasn't his strong suit. As we were getting out of the car, I looked him and he caught my eye. He smiled broadly at me.

It had officially become weird.

We went inside and grabbed a table and waited for somebody to come take our order.

"So, what's up?" I asked.

"Same shit different day, pretty much. Working, sleeping."

"No, no, I mean, why did you call me? Is something wrong that I need to be aware of?"

"What? No. I just wanted to hang out. You're the one who wanted to be friends."

"Oh. I did, didn't I?" I said softly. The petty, angry part of me was hoping he'd beg me to take him back and I'd crush him under my heel like a worm. But the part that still loved him and missed him was glad he'd called, even if it hurt to see him. I felt tears starting to form behind my eyes, and I blinked them away.

"You alright?" he said, his hand covering mine on the table.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I smiled weakly.

Right then one of the serving people came over to take our order. He ordered half pepperoni, half supreme. I balked in mock indignation as the server walked away.

"What? It's what you always eat on your pizza."

"What if I wanted something else?" I whined. It wasn't the fact that he ordered pepperoni for me, because he was right, that's all I ever eat, it was because it was too familiar. It was something he would have done if we were still dating.

"Well, did you?"

"No. But still."

He rolled his eyes at me.

"Hey, guess what." He said to me a few minutes later.

"What?" I sipped my Dr. Pepper.

"I'm moving."

"Moving?" I panicked inwardly. "Where are you moving to?"

"Oh, just in town. Getting my own place. No more roommates." He grinned at me.

"Oh, I bet that girl you're dating will like that," I said quietly. Jealously.

"I'm not dating anybody." he said.

"What happened to that girl you met at work?"

"She turned out to not be as...how do I put this...intelligent as I thought." He took a drink of his tea.

I felt a small stab of glee at hearing this. I said nothing.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked me.

"Same shit, different day." I smiled at him. We fell silent, stealing little glances at each other. Before long, our pizza came. We started eating and not saying much.

Then I threw a pepperoni at him. He looked shocked for a split second then threw a mushroom back at me. It was covered in sauce and it landed right between my eyes. I doubt he could have done that again if he tried. We started laughing so hard we couldn't finish our pizza.

And I thought to myself that if this were an actual date, it would have been the best one I'd ever had.

***
Will continue this tomorrow. I are tired. But there is more to the story.