Idiot Parade

I need help.

There are just some things that I can’t do on my own.

I am trying so hard to not be suspicious or jealous. I am trying to keep my baggage in check. I am constantly reminding myself that I can’t assign every wrong that’s been committed against me to this new relationship. I repeat, over and over in my head, that this one won’t leave just because the others did. That is a leap of faith that I don’t know if I can make by myself.

The rational, thinking me knows these things. She understands. She is confident and sure and knows that everything is fine. Better than fine. She acknowledges that we’re still new, and she can’t be the Most Important Person after only a month. But the other part…the other part is weighed down by her glaring inexperience in these matters, never having an adult relationship that lasted more than two months. She is jumpy and frightened and constantly on the verge of tears because she’s waiting for God to spit in her face and take this away from her, too. She isn’t okay. And I don’t know how to bring that one from her darkness and move her closer to reality.

I need help.

Oh my god, faire starts tomorrow!

Internet, did you hear me? Did you hear the squeal in my voice that could be mistaken for a gerbil with a megaphone? The one that sounded like a child who knows that there are presents from Santa waiting downstairs, but she can’t go and get them yet because it’s 2 am and Mommy and Daddy are still sleeping (and, unbeknownst to her, they were still wrapping presents an hour and a half ago), and on top of that, she REALLY HAS TO PEE???

I said: FAIRE STARTS TOMORROW!!!!!!!

And what’s better than faire? Oh dear god, can it be? YES, INTERNET! IT CAN! After faire, I get to go home with a boy! A boy who likes me! A boy who will watch Roger Rabbit with me, who doesn’t mind that my feet are at a constant -2 degrees Fahrenheit, who manages to tickle me without finding any of his limbs forcably detached from his writhing and bleeding torso because I LIKE HIM ENOUGH TO LET HIM LIVE.

My life, it does not suck.

Oh, and since you’re here, it wouldn’t be terribly out of your way to read the post directly below this one. It is not happy or squeally, and it has nothing to do with the comedic genius that is Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, but it is desperately important to me…not to mention to the 3,000 child soldiers. Braclets will go on sale next week, $1 each. Thank you.

I have learned more about myself in the past week and a half than I generally do in six months.

A huge part of my world view has been significantly altered, because I’ve managed to stumble upon several people who, while they aren’t like me, per se, they have enough similar qualities to make me realize ‘Oh…I’m not completely insane for doing/thinking/wanting (insert something here)’.

I find myself enjoying time with girl friends, which is something I’ve never experienced. I have had female best friends, most of whom I’m still very close to, but this is the first time in my life where I’ve found a kinship with several other women.

Also, I’ve recently discovered that it is possible for someone to care about me as much as I care about them. On a romantic level, this is completely foreign. I’ve loved a few times, but I’ve never been loved back. It’s an adventure that I’m looking forward to having for a long time.

Spring break ends tomorrow. Faire opens next weekend. Still looking for a job. Need to start researching Masters programs.

It really doesn’t suck being me.

A fellow faire performer suggested I look this up, and I’m very glad I did; these little ‘beauty tips’ are well worth remembering and practicing:

(Note: Contrary to popular belief, this was not written by Audrey Hepburn. It was, however, a favorite poem of hers, written by Sam Levenson.)

“Time Tested Beauty Tips”

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!

And how.

Last night, I:

Was told in no uncertain terms that dating is not an option, but we can still be friends
Offered to set up the guy who, until I broke it off very recently, was my only lover
Discovered that some people only consider me when it’s convenient for them to do so

Three little pinches, three different people.

So I went a little overboard. Had a bit too much cider and things on in a short space of time, as well as on an empty stomach. This is not something I ever, EVER do, because I’m a person who believes in solving one’s own problems by attacking them head-on, and because alcoholism runs very heavily in my extended family. But these are problems I don’t know how to solve. They aren’t even my problems, not that that’s ever stopped me in the past. I opted for the warm and fuzzy feeling in my legs and my head, instead of banging my tiny, ineffective fists against immovable forces.

The warm and fuzzy feeling is gone now…but I have some lingering joy. These three people…well, two; that second occurrence was my own doing, but it comes with a nice little sting anyway…cut me a little, deep inside. But in each of them, there’s something for me to love. The first one, I love the fire in his eyes, because it means that no one’s killed his spirit. The second one, I love his touch and the kindness in it. And the third…I love that he really does try to be good. He’s usually successful. Just does dumb things sometimes. What I’m getting at here is that I think I can overlook my own pain and embarrassment, because those things are fleeting and unimportant. Those details about the people in my life, the kernels and sparks I love to find in people, especially when no one else notices them…those are worth staying around for. It’s more than just finding the good in everyone; it’s making a point to know why they’re special to me. Like the Little Prince and his rose, his rose that was unique in all the world because she was his. That’s enough to make me keep trying.

Today, I:

Will write a love letter to no one
Will get some balloons for a glamour bomb which hasn’t been completely planned out yet.
Will dance in the rain

The gap between what other people see in me and what I see is continuously growing larger.

Was talking with a close friend a few days ago about the possibility of someday having a relationship. On paper, this sounds like a wonderful idea. I adore him, he treats me well, and I’d be well taken care of. But about halfway through our conversation, I realized that no matter how much I may want a partner, I just don’t have the energy for it. I’m tired. And I don’t like being this tired. I pride myself in always having a bit more to give. If you looked at me, you’d see a normal young woman. Mostly intact, only a couple scars and maybe a bruise or two. But when I look in my own eyes, I see an old woman, all worn out. Like an old piece of leather. That’s not to say I’m world-weary or that I think I’ve seen so much that now I’m simply bored. I’m not that pretentious. But it takes so much to play the game. Meet someone, flirt, wait for a call, go out, more waiting, go out a couple more times, walking on eggshells because this book warns about somethingorother, and this relationship coach says you have to do thisorthat, otherwise you will be a complete failure at life and die alone, die one of those sad New York deaths where no one notices until the smell comes down through the air vents a week later.

I’m tired.

What’s worse, I’m afraid of being tired. Because the last time I gave up, I met this amazing guy, and everyone always says it’ll just happen when you stop wanting it, which is exactly what occurred….except he freaked out and left after a couple months. And if I’m too exhausted to be out there, there’s no way I can handle being dumped right now.

I know I’m not becoming broken and cynical, because there are a couple people who I love beyond all reason and comprehension. I’m just not sure what happens to all that love when there’s no place for it to go.

I can’t believe I’m a month late in seeing this (thanks for telling me about it, Chels-face)

How to Talk to Girls

It might seem odd to think that a child would be an authority on dating an relationships…but maybe he has a clearer view of it than any of us. A nine-year-old doesn’t know about mind games or power plays or ridiculous rules of conduct. It should be as easy as saying “hello”, at least at the beginning. Why do we make these thing unnecessarily complicated?

“If I say hi and you say hi, we’re probably off to a good start.” I could not agree more.

I thought I had a few more years before this would become an issue. Not even an issue, really, just a reminder of impending adulthood. Three of my friends are engaged–one of them is a friend from junior high; the other two, I’ve known since elementary school. It’s this weird juxtaposition. My young friends are starting their new live together, while a good number of my older friends are struggling and watching their relationships fall apart.

I know that divorce rates are high. I know that young marriages are more likely to fail. And I seem to have plenty of people to remind me of this in case I start to forget. But god, I desperately want these to work. I want my friends to be happy. I want to believe that, even if I don’t wind up living a fairy tale, maybe someone I care about will.

I’ve never read House at Pooh Corner (please don’t hurt me), but I found the final passage, when Christopher Robin has to go off to school and grow up. It seems….relevant. At one time or another, I think we’re all a bit like Christopher Robin.

“Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.”
Pooh thought for a little.
“How old shall I be then?”
“Ninety-nine.”
Pooh nodded.
“I promise,” he said.
Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Pooh’s paw. “Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I — if I’m not quite —” he stopped and tried again — “Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?”