Change is A Comin'

This blog is getting too blargh.

Let's throw a ray of sunshine in here, lets yes? Lets make it sparkle.

Are you guys getting ready for the apocalypse? I am. I've started stockpiling cans of corn. If there is one thing, in this land of plenty and especially in ohio where cornfields are just outside the city, I'm gonna need corn. Those horsemen are not going to wait for me to boil it in a pot, and add salt. You just microwave the corn and you're set. Then you follow them into the pits of Hell.

Speaking of pits of Hell, one thing that drives me crazy at work is how all my coworkers eat my food. I'm gonna have to put my foot down pretty soon. I mean, I have, but I think I do it too nicely. Its like, yes I brought a bag of black corn tortilla chips to work, but those are for my SOUP later, and I don't want your grimy paws all inside that bag. HANDS OFFFFF. Like for instance, today I brought some cherry cheesecake I made, and I said to everyone, "Hit that up if you'd like some." But I also had some garlic and cheddar bread, which is effin' expensive, 6.50 a loaf, and everyone is all, "Ooooh we'd rather eat that." No. That is for my ham sandwich later. Jesus.

Speaking of, its time for ham sandwichhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello!

and welcome to my 47th post. I do like the number 47. It feels like a very complete, yet awkward number. Just because the seven is so pointy, but the four is so even. You follow me?

Here's what I was just thinking: When she started acting like she was entitled to something, that is when it became a failure. The fact that she thinks I owed her something, or like, the fact that what we were doing made her have some sort of power over me, no. I have to be in control in a situation like that. Much less forcing the hand? Sitting next to me and confronting me about the stupidest thing ever? I could care less you were at the bar, I was hanging with my friend from out of town. I told her in a text that I was busy. Just because we are in the same room, doesn't mean we're best buddies. I know a lot of people there, and you're just one of them.

I'm not saying that it was a big thing to fail, or that it was going anywhere, but the situation itself just collapsed in on itself. I'm a bit old for mind games, and jealousy, and overt attempts for attention. I'm maybe too single to even mess around with someone. I just need so much space its crazy.

Its cozy.

ridiculous
ridiculous
ridiculous
ridiculous

tonight was.

it was nice to see vanessa. I like looking at her but its hard to coin our old friendship, because she has been living in another city, and its hard to drop back in after so many months of not kindling that very friendship. I mean, I still love her and she's my friend, I just feel a bit awkward around her. I'm sure I will get over that, its just a means of catching up with her.

Otherwise, knife to the gut for everything else, and fucking heart burn anger.

You know, enough time has passed that I'm not sure I even care anymore.

I don't even know what it was about. I mean I do, but I just feel tired about it.

I don't even want to waste energy on it, but everyone keeps bringing it up.

I just want it to go away, but I want it to come back, but its easy to go away.

Its easier to say I don't care, and I don't think I really do care anymore.

I feel like I've moved on, and that might be kind of sad, in its way.

Screen.

When you can't sleep, there's the internet.
When you don't want to sleep, there's the internet.

I'm on the internet.

I'm sick of this _ _ _ _ and that isn't the word shit.

I'm I'm I'm

too old for this.

2 lbs

So I weighed myself upon returning to work, after a long weekend of cooking, fretting, relaxing, reveling, smiling, laughing, and missing sleep, and I found out I gained two pounds within the last 4 days. Now, I know, 2 lbs can be just about anything, but either way, its a wake up call to not eat that cheesecake left over from the dinner party I had.

Woe is me.

Do you think people write the same way they speak? Sometimes I wonder. I was reading someone else's blog and I could put their voice right to it. The funny thing is, we never truly have huge conversations about big subject matter. It just seems to work out deepest on paper. Or screen. Maybe I'm just not the "go to" person for such things. It sometimes is the same way for me, thoughts on paper are easier to explain rather than in person. If you really want to know what I think of you, ask me to write a letter.

I just want you to know that I can't write well today because my hair looks bad.

I kind of wish I didn't have internet at home. I wish that I had it in limited spurts, because I can't control myself on there. I'm going to be late to work, I'm going to make mistakes, I'm going to not go out as much (which might be for the best). There are some people that exist only at the bar for me, friends that I can talk to at the bar, but I wouldn't know if I would want them in my home or even how I would invite them over for something a little less prosaic than drinking a pitcher of pbr. I also want to leave something behind at the bar too. Cryptic, I know. I've just been seeking something more lately. I think I need to leave town for a bit and maybe go visit something or someone.

In other news, I met my neighbor last night. I was cleaning up the water that had leaked everywhere from the bag of ice outside my backdoor and she must have heard me swearing quietly. That or the sweep of the mop. Normally I would have let it just dry, but it was a LOT of water and it was making the linoleum outside the backdoor crack. Let's just say she is pretty darling, and we exchanged numbers so I could show her around Toledo. She seems to be a little bit new age, which always makes me do the puking motion with my mouth, but whatever. Vegetarians, I just don't get it.

She had short orange blonde hair and those stylish plastic frames everyone is wearing. She seemed taller than me, though I had trouble making eye contact because she was a new person and we were having quite a conversation outside my open kitchen door. I finally urged her to look in so in order to get over my embarrassment that she would see my apartment looking like a turkey bomb went off in it without explanation of how. She seemed shocked, and we went into conversation about how to feed a vegan potatoes. "Lots of curry," She said. I don't know about that, but I told her that it was tougher than I thought it would be. Her demeanor was open and nice and she smiled a lot, which I liked.

The last neighbor I became friends with ended awkwardly. She was loud, her dog howled at all hours of the night (in fact it was a party trick for her to show her visitors how she could make it howl by howling at it), and she stole my nice stainless steel pot after I lended it to her. It was funny when she denied it, and a couple months later as I was walking past her apartment back door I saw it through her door window standing upon the stove top.

This girl, though, has been quiet as a mouse to the point where I'm never sure if she is home or not. That and the fact that she doesn't have a car and commutes by bus or bike. Well anyway, as she has lived in the building for months, its interesting to finally have met her.

The Skinny.

The weird thing about losing weight is the mentality that you gain along with it. I mean, lose? For a while I was really excited about losing weight. I felt really cool about it, like on an emotional high and faster and smarter. I felt this one up on the people I work with, I would look scornfully upon them as they ate fast food for lunch, my lip would curl with disdain as they ate french fries.

Then came the week when I felt sorry for myself, when I thought yeah I'm losing weight but I'm not having any fun. That was when those same french fries would smell immaculate, would make my mouth feel like it hadn't tasted anything good in weeks. That was only a week.

I've lost about 13 lbs, and while that doesn't seem like much, its a lot for me. For one, because I was working out too, and I believe that muscle weighs more than fat, or so I'm told. For two, my pants are dropping off of me. I've been mooning the hell out of patients in the ER. I've perfected a sideway crouch down for when I drop a paper so that my ass faces a drawer or a wall.

The weird thing is that I've developed food fetishes and phobias. I don't eat anything unless I know what goes into it or how many calories are in it. I mentally calculate my caloric intake for the day and measure what I can have if I have this, or what I can't have if I have that. I haven't eaten pizza since February (though I think that is in part because of throwing it up last winter because of the flu) and I haven't had fast food in about a year now. Something like that. Those 'golden arches?' Don't give a damn.

The good is that I don't have as bad stomach pains now. My poop regiment (bear with me) is so much better. I think also because I don't drink pop anymore all those high fructose sugars and carmelized food colors and carbonation are less likely to stress out my body. The less oil in food I eat, the better I feel. Even mentally.

Except...the other day I was looking at myself in my bathroom mirror totally bare on top. I felt really fat again. I had just weighed myself the day before at work, so I knew I hadn't gained or lost any weight. It just worried me a little bit, because I don't want this to become an obsession. So what I think is, to spare me any confusion, is that I've become used to the size of my body now. When I was losing weight, I could notice it easily. Now, I'm used to my body at this size so I don't notice any loss anymore. At least that is what I am hoping.

I really love peas, by the by. I have a little more confidence in myself when I go out, but I think its because I have been caring a bit more of what I look like as well. For um, a certain reason.

Ok.