| You have no friends but yourself when it comes down to brass tacks |
[13 Nov 2005|04:14am] |
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mood |
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*Snarl* |
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music |
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Hedley - On My Own |
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Ever realize the truth of being alone in the crowd? I shoulda known better is all I can say. Shoulda left the party and went home. There is no way I shoulda gone to a club with a bunch of people I can barely tolerate and one person who was supposed to be my friend. Well at least the truth is out. No one in that group is a friend of mine. I'm strangely comfortable with this realization, actually. Better the devil you know I always say.
There is nothing to clear your mind, sober you up, and hurt your feet like a five kilometre walk at two thirty am in four degree weather while wearing chrismas party dress clothes including four inch high heeled, strappy sandal style shoes. Oh well.
There are two things that bother me in this world. Hypocrits and pussies. My god! If you couldn't care less if you ever saw me again, why not tell me so? Or at the very least tell me you have other plans, or your car is full. Don't allow me to go someplace with you and then ignore me. I'd rather know up front my company isn't needed or desired and go home. Really. I would. True story. Because when you're like 'oh whatever' and then because I'm very in tune to those around me and what they're thinking I figure out you couldn't care less if you ever saw me again I do something stupid like walk home alone at two thirty am when I live five kilometres away from the place we're at.
I'm still cold and it ain't just about the weather neither. But I'll get over it. Again, true story. But damned if I'll ever look at any of them like a friend again. I never use to hold a grudge but I damn sure do now. And will continue to do so until I up and move away and none of these people matter one iota anymore. I can't wait to forget them all. Some more than others.
It's bed time for me now. I plan to sleep until I wake up. I will then drag myself through yet another day of studious indifference. Funny how easy it has become to force a smile, find a laugh, and convice them all that I'm fine.
Fine is very relative.
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[02 Nov 2005|12:17am] |
Every day is another chance for me to practise my acting ablilities. I convince them all I have myself oh so together when inside everything is a shambles. I could cry at the drop of a pin every day.
Nothing I've ever known has hurt as much as this does. My dog was sick for a long time, dying really, but we only knew for about a month. He was supposed to live another two after they finally diagnosed his cancer but he only lived one and we had to put him to sleep on friday.
What a stupid term that is. Put him to sleep. We killed him. I know it was the right thing to do and blah blah blah. I know he just would have suffered until he died a horrible, painful natural death on his own. But he didn't die in his sleep. Someone pumped his blood full of a chemical that made him go comatose before it made him stop breathing and his heart stop beating. It might have been humane and painless and peaceful for him but in the end I still had to make a concious decision to end his life.
He was my best friend for ten years, since I was fifteen years old. He was only ten. He wasn't supposed to die so young or in such a horrible way.
He took a bad turn on Friday and we decided to put an end to his suffering Saturday morning. My mom and I were going to take him together. He was my dog, he always followed me around, wanted to be with me. I've been planning to move across the country for a while now but there was no question of me going until he'd lived all his time he could have. I wasn't going to know he was dying and wondering why I abandoned him at the same time. But on Friday night I had plans to meet some friends, one of whom is moving away and I didn't want to back out. I told myself I'd go and try to have a good time because after Saturday morning the rest of the weekend was going to be a wash anyway. He took a really bad turn in the middle of the night Friday and my mom had to take him alone. I didn't get to go say goodbye and in his last moments I can only think he might have been wondering why I wasn't there to hold him while he went to sleep for the last time.
I still come home and look for him at the top of the stairs every night. He's never going to be there again.
I'm the tough girl. Cliche? Perhaps, but it's true. A woman in a man's trade/field can not be an emotional, crying wreck. No matter how unfair it is, I need to be able to hold their respect and that means being able to fit in as one of the boys at work.
But I hold it all together somehow in public. By god's grace or my own sheer, stuborn will-which I possess in spades-I keep up the brave front. I'm fine, of course I am, I tell everyone. I smile, I allow people and things to make me laugh. I crack jokes, I tease people mercilessly like I aways do. But when I come home to that empty space at the top of the stairs I just want to run and hide for the rest of my life.
I know it'll get easier with time. That in time the ten years of good memories will stand out more than the few weeks of bad. But for now all that stands out is the fact that I wasn't there when MY best friend, when my dog was destroyed. And that I, as always, will have to be the brave girl, the strong girl. I wish someone could be strong for me this time. But more importantly, that I knew how to let someone. And most of all, I wish that instead of crying into my hands as I now do I was again crying into his soft black fur as it always was before.
I miss you baby boy.
In loving memory of Samuel Joseph Dogg, AKA Sam, Sammy, Joes, Jose, Dude, Doodle, Doodle Bug, Bug.
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[16 Oct 2005|08:09pm] |
I am not a very happy person. But yet, I am. I can't figure it out myself so don't expect me to decode it here now. But a lot of the time I'm just stuck in the bad parts of my life. However, if I can just not think about it than everything is good and I'm downright perky. But that's not me anyway. Bah, I'll never sort it out.
So instead I'm going to go and write a chapter of one of my stories. It's going to be bad (no literary redeaming value at all), but it's fun and that's all that matters.
I'm not even sure how I'm going to tackle the next chapter of Catalyst. When I'm so messed up inside myself right now, how on earth am I going to write the characters well? I'm hardly going to be able to remain objective when they have their security ripped away from them when I'm staring down the barrel of the same thing myself.
Only time will help me sort all this stuff out so I guess I shall just have to sit back and allow it to come on. Too bad that doesn't sound right, like I'm being a passive player in my own life. Soon, I'll have to learn how to take the bull by the horns. For now, I'm going to try to be content letting the flow of life carry me along. I still need to find my paddles before I get too involved in deciding where I'm headed just yet.
It's clear to me that I don't know what I want. No, I don't want to go into how I have come to have this knowledge. It's for me, myself, and I for right now, thank you very much. Not that anyone reads this shit anyway.
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| Ever happen... |
[06 Sep 2005|10:04pm] |
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apathetic |
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Eve 6 - Anytime |
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Ever realize that a board you like is pretty much micromanaged to the point of not being fun anymore?
I realized today that a board I've been a member of for a very long time is just such a board. Sure, the mods are all very nice people and no one was rude about anything. But why is it that there is a place for general chat and yet a general chat thread I started got moved to another board because it didn't belong?
Yet off topic discussions about all sorts of other things stay right there. No one goes there anymore and hardly anyone posts anyway so it's hardly a loss but it use to be a fun place to go. Now it all seems to be about a select few people and their clique. I don't do cliques. Also, it has like two hundred members. Does it need ten moderators and board owners, etc?
And no one cares! But hey, I got it out of my system and since no one reads this no one else had to be burdened by it. So hurray for me and venting without offloading onto some poor soul who doesn't give two fucks.
I must go write now. I'm on a small roll with Catalyst today, despite still not having my own PC back. Oh well, I'll take the desire to write any time it wants to come to me.
Later Gater!
Tempest.
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| The Stones |
[02 Sep 2005|10:14pm] |
So, I'm going to see the Rolling Stones tomorrow. I think.
Big drama. Friend says a friend of hers, someone I use to work with and know has extra tickets that he can't use for the people he planned to give them to and offers them to us. We were going to go with him and share expenses. Another friend, again someone we all use to work with wanted to go as well. He bought a ticket but didn't want to go alone.
Friend one and two don't like each other for some reason. Who knows why. One of them is willing to set that aside for the sake of us all going together. The other, the one driving will not and refuses to let the other guy go. So now I have to drive my car and the four of us are going together, leaving the fifth person to go alone. The exact scenario we were looking to avoid.
Confused? Me too.
Also in my life...Computer still broken.
Katrina makes me cry if I dwell on it. I live in Canada and feel very bad there isn't something I can do. I have no money so donating funds isn't an option. I can't get down to New Orleans so I can't do anything.
But hey, if I get to go...It's the Rolling Stones!!!! Yeah baby!
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[29 Aug 2005|07:17pm] |
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devious |
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Don't Cha - Tori Alamaze |
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Well, welcome to the wonderful world of on-line journals. I've never kept one before. Therefore, updates and entries to this one will be sporadic at best.
With a fruit smoothie melting happily in my belly, music I like playing and a huge computer monitor in front of me for a few hours of alone time all should be right in my world.
Alas, it is not. It's not *my* computer. It's foreign and strange to me, making it hard to type and impossible to write. My laptop broke last week. Thankfully it's covered under three years worth of warranty but it's still going to be next week before they have the new mother board installed, tested and returned to me. This computer I'm stealing for the evening is a full sized model.
Don't get me wrong, it's top of the line. Best damn computer I'm ever like to sit at, considering it cost more than any car I've ever bought. But it's not mine. The keyboard is all wrong and it hurts my arms to type at it. I'm used to the easy to strike, compact format of my laptop. This one feels as though I have to pound on it to get any response out of the keys.
I find it amusing in some ways how dependant my creative side has become on a certain set of parameters. I need my computer with it's seventeen inch truebright display and touch pad mouse to feel content. I need my music and 'phones to write. This open air music, no matter how good it sounds on the 5.1 surround sound system attached to this PC, just isn't cutting it.
A creature of habit I am, no matter how spontanious I must appear to my friends and family. That crazy chick who drives too fast to too many places a car just shouldn't go can't do something as simple as write a chapter of a story that's actually going well and making sense just because her computer is missing.
Come home Vinnie! I miss thee.
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