the fuego

every time i run into my ex, it's always the same thing. i get all giggly and happy to see him, make plans with him that he never keeps or even acknowledges, get horribly devastated and depressed -- sometimes even get sick -- and then start to blame myself. i start to wonder what i did wrong. start feeling ugly, fat and unattractive. start running through the relationship highlights in my head and trying to make sense of it all. i really just get all dwelly and can't let go, wondering all the time, "what's wrong with me?" and then it hits me. after dwelling and brooding and crying, after driving past his dad's office, after looking inside every green vw jetta that drives by -- even though, he doesn't even live in austin anymore. after turning into a pathetic, psycho mess, it starts to rise up in me. the fuego. the fire. the raging, storming gust of power that hides, latent and crouching, and then punches its way out without even a warning. wrong with me?!? what the fuck is wrong with him! when did laying it on thick to draw me in, inappropriately propositioning me, making definite plans and completely blowing me off become an acceptable way to treat someone? when did somebody else's jerky actions turn into an excuse to analyze and pick apart my inadequacies? when did hanging out at my bar for hours, being all huggy, coming back to see me the same night, only to then pretend like all is casual become my fucking shortcoming? fuck that!

i know that there are two sides to any relationship dysfuction. i accept the responsibility of letting him think he could get away with his behavior. i'll take it. it's true. all of us girls sometimes have to accept that we were more than just the victims. sometimes we played equal part in the demise of our relationship. but sometimes the simple truth is that your stupid, immature, dumbass ex boyfriend is just a teasing, self-absorbed, selfish jerk that fucked it up all on his own. sometimes your ex just needs to grow the fuck up! it's fair to say that the boy's got problems. deep ones. serious issues, a shitty childhood, unresolved pain, an inability to communicate or deal that has blocked his emotional development and probably stalled out his deep relationships with others. i've read the psychology books. i give him that. i can feel it there everytime i see him. the pain. the loss. the emptiness. a kind of awkwardness and confusion. all hidden in there. and i do really feel for him. but come the fuck on!

there is a point in everyone's life where we take the cards we're dealt. things we had no control over. things that fucked us up. we take these things and we decide to do something with them. as children we have no control over what happens to us. we can't protect ourselves, can't nurture ourselves the way we need to be nurtured, don't know how to take care of ourselves. and if we're not given what we need, we learn to cope in the best way we can and often times develop behaviors that initially protect us, but eventually become dysfunctional ways of dealing. all of this is true. and it's sad. but as adults, we have to learn to take care of ourselves. my friend chris says that once we become adults, our issues become our responsibilty and no one else's, and it's up to us to figure them out and deal with them. our responsibilty. our very own. so fucking deal, ex boyfriend! deal! go to therapy. go to na. get some help. fix your issues, but keep your shit away from me! the fuego's all fired up and it's not done burning. the firey beast is awake and you are no longer safe. watch out! thank god for heat! i'm starting to feel myself again. thank fucking god!!

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My 7 Dream Jeopardy Categories updated

My 7 Dream Jeopardy Categories

Pure Microserf style, at the moment:

My 7 Dream Jeopardy Categories would be:

1) Random Movie Knowledge
2) Propagation of Succulent plants
3) Pop Song Lyrics
4) Transitional Periods and The Existential Dilemma
5) Allergies, Colds and other Ways to Lose Your Voice
6) General Neuroses
7) Getting the most out of your TV antenna

Final Jeopardy:
Mythology, the Buffiverse, or Star Wars

bar not so tender

well, i started bartending at maggie mae's again. the bar i started at 4 years ago and quit about 2 and a half years ago. i decided that since i did actually get that part-time writing and editing gig that it would be a good idea to go back to the bar and have more time (and more money) to work on my writing and get a better job or maybe even a number of jobs that were a bit less maddening than working retail at a book store. all i'd have to work is three nights a week to cover my bills. it had taken me a long time to reach this decision and i wasn't totally stoked about it, but i had made my peace with it, saying that it was only temporary and that i'm really starting to lose it with my total lack of free time and rest. i mean, it's getting really bad. anyway, i know a lot of the people there still, but really only two people that worked there back in the day actually work there now, so even though it felt like going back, i comforted myself with the thought that it was different. things in my life were different. i was a different person than i was before and i wouldn't get bogged down in it like i did in the past.

i wasn't prepared for how strange it would feel, though. i didn't foresee the flashback of memories, the strange mixture of loneliness and nostalgia. didn't anticipate the extreme competitive-ness that pervades the bar. i had totally forgotten about my weekly loss of voice due to it being so loud. and nothing could have prepared me for the ex-boyfriend and former maggie mae's employee that would walk through the door on my 3rd night back and make me feel happy and then horrible all over again (i'm sure there'll be a blog for that story later).

i feel like maybe all of this is a sign. like it's not going to be as easy as i thought. like i need to find a job at another bar first and a completely different job sooner than i thought. i need to be in a place that doesn't bring all of this shit up for me. maybe a nice dive bar, a real neighborhood place that you don't have to scream in to have a conversation. i guess it's true that you can never go back. maybe it'll be easier once i get rid of one of my three jobs (which i do tomorrow...). or maybe it's just time to move on. maybe i really am a different person, just much more different than i thought. it makes me long for the times when i couldn't wait to go to work at maggie mae's. when jake and jay and jim and larry and gerimie and maggie and i all had so much fun working and drinking and being together. when i used to flirt with brian (the former barback and aforementioned ex) and he was so sweet and i got so excited just thinking about him. before i found out that pretty much everyone but me also liked their cocaine. before brian pulled away. before everyone quit or got fired (mostly fired) one by one and left me there all alone.

call it melodramatic, but there it is. my therapist says that depression can be good when you listen to it because it tells you something's wrong. well, lately, something has been really wrong and i really do know it. i just want to make it right. i just wish things could stay the same when they're good and when i'm happy sometimes. or maybe i just want to know how to find my own current and future happiness. all i know is it's not here, not at the bar and i know the drill: i may as well push forward because i can't go back. life is change. the four noble truths. blah-dy blah. blah-dy blah blah blah.

The Dark

No matter how much time passes, no matter how long in therapy, no matter what is going on in my life, it always comes back to this. This tight feeling in the pit of my stomach. This feeling of nausea and heaviness. This darkness. I can't get away from it. I work through my past. I head toward a more fulfilling life. I try to get over the wrongs of my childhood. I heal from the pain in my past. I get better and stronger. I feel more solid and calm. But I am a mess. Sometimes I really don't see the point. Sometimes I can see no joy in my life. I just feel this thing inside me. Lurking in the crevices of my body, of my soul. The dark that wants to consume me. Wants to devour me whole. I don't want to let it, but I'm just so tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of fighting the dark.