Letterblade

It's been almost a year since he dumped me.

*gingerly pokes wounds*

Nope, still fresh. Scabbed a little, maybe. Nowhere near healed. Whatever battle I was supposed to fight, whatever test the universe was giving me, I lost. Too weak to survive one stupid breakup intact.

And I'm a stupid donkey for having my first LJ post in foreverandaday be emo.* It's not like there isn't other stuff I keep meaning to post. Like postmortems on the LARPs I ran, or the tabletop game that's been brewing in my head, or the quiz that told me I was Chip Delaney. But I have a splitting headache, and feel like I'm going to throw up, and have just realized that I've been walking around with a dead spot in place of my heart for a year.

I'm going to take my painkillers and my antidepressant and go the fuck to sleep now. I had better feel better in the morning.


* Something I have realized: I have never been much of a person for "it is forbidden, thus I will do it and enjoy it." (Not that I don't do forbidden things--heck, I have a rack of sex toys on my wall--but I do them in spite of that, not because of that.) But, damn, I've realized that publicly posting about my negative emotions on LJ is a highly subversive thing, given my upbringing (show no negative emotions or you are yelled at) and my social conditioning from my two long-term relationships (showing negative emotions is manipulation, or overreacting, or childish; and Cyn in particular would get very upset with me if I posted to LJ about stuff.) So. Here I am doing the subversive thing and, in part, enjoying it because it is subversive.

Huh.

Have just been informed by a mutual friend that Ex-Boy and his New Girl have returned from Germany--though I didn't think to ask whether this was permanent or temporary. (I thought she'd had a job there for a year, and it's been far less than that.) At the time, it simply seemed odd that I'd been talking with the Lily (mllelaurel) and the Pooka (pookit) about whether Ex-Boy and I would wind up heading in the friend direction at some point, and I was saying that his being in Germany was, uh, prohibitive. Cause, y'know, Germany.

(With the exception of often fleeting netfriends, I don't do long-distance well, even with friends or family, never mind Relationships.)

At the time I heard the news, I honestly didn't give it much thought, but then as I was driving home and getting stuck behind 29382479837 idiots and/or buses, it occurred to me--dear lord, if he's local, we might run into each other or something. The thought of contacting him suddenly becomes more relevant. And WTF do I do?

Clearly I can't win. If he moves to Germany, I get pathetic about the fact that he disappeared off to live with New Girl without even telling me. If he comes back, I get pathetic about the fact that we have a slim chance of briefly existing at the same coordinates.

At least I'm not alone anymore, thank god.

Yesterday, as a result of more conversation, I was thinking about magic and other Related Things. Y'know, the things which have been pretty much dead to me since Boy became Ex-Boy. And...I don't even know. No conclusions, except realizing again that the concept of doing anything magical by myself holds no joy or appeal.

I'm going to go off and be a good girl and do my laundry and clean my room and eat my dinner and schedule my LARP now. -.-

My recent life pattern: weeks are ass, weekends are ABSOLUTELY HEAVENLY. Hrm. If only I could spread it out a little. Want...to...start...nerd...commune...*twitch*

Also? Barbarella. Just. Barbarella.

...I just heard back from the ex-Boy by email. (I'd emailed him asking if I could see him before I left.)

He's been in Germany since September 17th.

He didn't even tell me he was leaving.

I'm...not entirely sure what to think. He emailed me back saying that he'd love to hear from me. Love to hear from somebody who he didn't even bother saying goodbye to when he moved overseas?

I'd often wondered, after the breakup, how much I meant to him. Now I know.

I'm going to have to formulate an email back somehow. In the meantime, have to haul my carcass to work. Again. And not cry.

I GET IT, UNIVERSE. AND DOUBLE DUMB ASS ON YOU TOO.

( Emo-cut. )

1. I will be having an open-invitation movie-outing this weekend. The Iron Man/Hulk double-header is still being scheduled to the satisfaction of all prime attendees, so full details will be coming later. I will also definitely be attending the Full Body Cast Rocky Horror Picture Show in Harvard Square at midnight. Y'know, the usual. I believe my car will be full, so I cannot offer transportation, only company, but I will also post if that changes.

2. One-page proof of why I call Captain America an enormous woobie.

3. I have a strong urge to be active on OKCupid again. WTF. OKCupid has never worked for me before; sending or receiving messages in the explicit context of "maybe having sex" from random people on the internet makes me hella nervous, so I never do it, which kind of defeats the point of the site. On the other paw, it might be a good thingie for communicating flirtatiously with people I already vaguely know. And it would make me feel like I'm looking.

4. Which I kind of am, maybe. I'm not sure. Mostly I think I'm looking for very-not-vanilla casual sex. Never had much luck with both finding that and knowing what to do with it.

5. WOOBIE, I SAY.

My feet and ass are telling me, very loudly, that I stood stock-still for most of an hour during Mass yesterday. Which I know I did, I don't see why they need to remind me. Ow.

My ex livened the proceedings by telling me that his new girlfriend had proposed to him. So I stood stock-still for most of an hour, with my feet feeling like they were being slowly flayed, in a deep blue funk.

(I did notice, during all this, that I've been able to starve and squish and kill nearly all my feelings for him. There's just kind of a blank in me when I'm around him. Good, right? Hurts less. Makes it hard to make conversation. But I didn't even have to cry in the bathroom after he told me. No, I don't think this means I loved him any less, I think it means I'm good at cutting out pieces of myself.)

(His stunned bewilderment at my Crazy Natal Chart of Doom was oddly gratifying though. Even if it was in reaction to some of the nastier portions of same. Have I mentioned here yet that I've got both Mercury and Venus in retrograde? No? I've got both Mercury and Venus in retrograde. Fuckers. Need to post on my Crazy Natal Chart of Doom someday.)

I've noticed--perhaps as a result of not practicing, perhaps as a result of cutting off or shutting down so much of myself?--that I'm literally less sensitive to magic now. I used to feel the waves of light spread out from the altar when he was priesting. Now I...don't. The remaining bits of me that care are upset.

I'm exhausted and sore and my sleep cycle's fucked up, and I'm Not Really Dealing, and I didn't do nearly as much this weekend as I should've, because I don't fucking care about myself and what I need to do to take care of myself. I was finally starting to learn, to become responsible, but I noticed recently that my general mental state seems to have back-slid by about three or four years. I feel like I did, oh, about sophomore, maybe junior year in college. I'm having the same issues again. Jesus fuck do I hate living in retrograde.

This only worries me with respect to my job. I've got to keep things up there. I can't have a sudden down-turn in performance--if I lose this job, I'll lose any chance of making a living, nobody's going to hire me with that fucked-up a resume.

Well, my job and housing. Setting myself up with the basic, practical means to exist in this world. I don't care about the rest. Why would I want to spend all my time taking care of somebody I don't like?

Stop the world, I want to get off.

Off to work--and today's going to be hell on wheels--and eat and fandom and sleep. It's a good rhythm. There are even parts of it I enjoy--mostly the fact that Marvel-fic seems to be pouring out of my every orifice every time I open a word processor. Mostly finished something completely unexpected last night. But the magic's gone out of my life.

The more I write recent-canon Tony, the more he reminds me of me, and this scares me a little.

Oh, and spam LJ. Can't forget that part of the rhythm. Must spam LJ with whiney emo.

I think I need to get back on antidepressants, possibly into therapy, but that would involve actual effort. And taking more time off from work, which I kindof can't do this pay period, because I took Friday off and didn't do as much work on my take-home project as I should've.

Fuck. Off to work. Driving to the train station, kthanx, whiney ass.

...bad.

I need to be better at remembering that I'm not allowed to feel things.

A whole lot of petty frustrations and humiliations at work, stoking up a deep, violent anger. Never wanted to attack strangers at random in the street before. Don't know where that came from. And nothing, absolutely nothing at all I could do with it. Except turn it inwards where it belongs.

(I won't actually. At least I'm about 99% sure I won't actually, just like I'm about 99% sure I won't actually kill myself. The gap between thinking and doing can be very, very wide with me. And that's a good or a bad thing, depending upon context.)

I...know I'm pretty good, by now. I know I'm reasonably attractive, and interesting, and decent company for at least some sorts of people. But I also know I'm not good enough, never will be. And I'm so fucking tired of all this shit.

Monogamy, or even individual people being wired mono, puts people in direct competition. Only the best one gets it. And I'm always second best. Or third, or fifth, or none. Never first.

With polyamory, it's just more insidious. A sort of friendly competition. And the second best still gets it, possibly quite a lot of it. At least for a while. Until the new shiny comes along. Until they let the relationship die a slow and painful death over months with the new shiny and decide you're too much trouble to have around and move onto the improved version. Because even if they're poly, they still don't want you when they find better.

I'm some sort of fucking gateway drug. People find better and dump me. I suppose I should just accept this. Put out a sign--lucky charm: fuck me, you'll find somebody you actually like in a few months. I should know better by now than to want anything for myself. At least my friends will benefit. And I'll have more free time for writing. Not that that's as fun as it used to be either. But I...selfish of me...want love...

I still prefer polyamory. Betters the odds that I at least get something for a little while. (Although it does have the downside of the long painful relationship festering.) Once I'm ready to enter the godawful fucking rat race again, that is. There's a part of me that really, really wants to, in part just to prove that I'm not too broken to. There's a part of me that wants to curl up and die before letting anyone touch me ever again, because I'm afraid that I am.

And there's one guy who does want to--fuck knows why, with how horribly messed up I'm been about stuff (not even relationships, just open friendships, sex, anything) recently--and he's cute and nice and there's a part of me that wants to, and he does not deserve this shit.

Still trying.

Necessity is the bane of my life. When I am doing things only out of necessity, it drains the joy out of everything. And right now, I am living out of necessity.

In the non sequitur department, it just occurred to me that slow and long are tagged as opposites in my mind, and it took me a moment to trace that back to taping Star Trek off the TV when I was small.

So I had this horrible nightmare last night in which I was storing my stuff, and possibly also staying, at kamianya's place, and managed to piss her off horribly by talking about Hebrew translation while she was at work at Dunkin' Donuts, which apparently got her nearly fired or something, and then she wouldn't talk to me at all and I was trying to get my stuff back and for some reason some of her parents took a batch of boxes with them to Delaware, and there was no way for me to get them back on my limited budget, and...

...aiii.

Perhaps this crap has disturbed me more than I thought.

My new nightmare: doing something random that makes people stop talking to me.

In completely unrelated news, anybody want a membership to the Davis Boston Sports Club? That's the shiny new gym over the CVS. It's through the end of the year, with month payments of $60-something. Essentially you're getting a gym membership with a highly discounted initiation fee, as I will be splitting the $50 transfer fee with whoever accepts, so it's only $25 to set up; it's probably paid up through May by now. It is possible to transfer said membership to another BSC location, though I don't know the details. Please email me if you're interested!

And in other completely unrelated news, as of May 1st, I will be fully, nicely, health-insured! Full employer contribution! *dances* FINALLY! I <3 my new job! (There's also a gym in the building which they give membership discounts to, plus I'll be neither living nor working anywhere near Davis, hence the wishing to ditch the BSC. Plus I've been so scattered with the homelessness and such that I haven't used it since January, which seems a waste of money.)