(no subject)

I just need to stay away from LJ today. Or stop trying to comment on things, deciding to delete the comment, reposting the comment, and then deleting it again. Cus I suck.

Picnic Things?

Hi. Well, the guy I'm dating is leaving on a long vacation and the only time we have together is Thursday on his lunch break.  As he works downtown, I thought a picnic at Civic Center Park would be an appropriate send-off. Unfortunately, not being culinarily-inclined, the romantic picnic I have in mind is a bit beyond my skill level to make.

Is there anywhere downtown, preferably on or near the 16th Street Mall, where I can pick up a nice, but budget-friendly, picnic lunch for two? Perhaps some Panini sandwhiches or wraps, a fruit salad, some nice portable dessert (like torts or whatnot?) I'd like something a little more high-end than Subway or whatever, but being a grad student I'm not made of money.  If I have to, though, I'm willing to shell out some extra bucks.

Any suggestions help.  I'm totally lost on this one and I'd like to make a good impression -- we haven't been dating for long and I'd like to make the words "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" a truism with this venture.

Thought Space

 Here I am, eating Golden Grahams for breakfast, wearing my new Chip 'N' Dale Rescue Rangers shirt, and waiting impatiently for spring to arrive so I can go outside and play more. 

I feel like I'm 9 years old again. And I love that feeling.

When I was 9, every day was bright and fresh with promises of learning something new, of exploring and adventures yet to be undertaken.  I could be anything, from a princess to a witch to just one of the boys. I had my friends. I had a bike. I had pocket money for soda and candy. Oh, sure, things weren't always the greatest at home, I was teased at a regular basis at school and we were probably in the middle of yet another move.  But overall, being 9 years old in small town Colorado was not a bad place to be. 

Now, of course, I'm older. Sure, life still occasionally sucks and my problems are a bit more grown-up now.  But there's still that sense of adventure to come, still that knowledge that the day could bring anything and I could recreate myself to fit into any role. I have my friends.  I have a bus pass. I have pocket money for coffee and take-out.  

Bring it on, world.

Wrong Impressions II


Fuck this.

I guess guys get the impression I'm an easy lay.  I'm naturally flirty. I have a tendancy to make out with inappropriate men when I am drunk. I joke and talk about sex frequently.

I am not an easy lay.  Four or five years ago? Yes, I was a bit of a slut. After being in a loving relationship for three and a half years where I was treated like a lady, where he frequently said "You are so much more than a cheap piece of ass to me," I won't put up with this bullshit anymore.  I am not looking for a guy who wants nothing more than a quick fuck with no pretense of a friendship behind it. Unless I met you at a bar or club or party, and will never, ever see you again.

Friends with benefits?  You kind of have to be friends for that to happen. Don't fucking chase after me and pretend to be my friend, just because you want a piece of this.  In fact, that's kind of desperate behavior and a major turn off. It also guarantees that you will never, ever be real friends with me.

And you know what?  I am an awesome person. Obviously, if you're so into me that you spend almost a year trying to get into my pants, I'm attractive enough for you to put out the effort. I'm a damn good person too -- I am always willing to help friends move, I am always there with a hug or plate of cookies when you're feeling down, I am always there to toast your successes. I'm funny, well-read, educated, and nerdy enough to get what you talk about when you discuss politics, gaming, or history. I can even somewhat grasp physics, astronomy, and chemistry.

And these guys? The ones that chase after me for weeks or months or years just to sleep with me? Some of them claim that I don't listen to them when they say they're just after sex. What-the-fuck-ever, man. If you were just after sex, you wouldn't have put in the extra effort to talk to me or hang out with me. You wouldn't have gone to see some girly Disney movie with me. Sex is as easy to get as water, but real friendship or more is harder to come by. So don't give me this "I was up front about just wanting to sleep with you," excuse because there *were* times when we got together and sex never came up. And I was equally honest about wanting a relationship FIRST -- maybe just as friends, maybe as more. But I told each and every one of you that I need to trust someone before I hop on bed with them.

And yeah, maybe I do need to be less flirty, less willing to drink and them make out with whoever's willing, less upfront about my sexuality. But you? You need to get over yourself.  If I haven't slept with you after hanging out with you for so long, it is NOT gonna happen. As the old saying goes: "The man wonders if he is going to get lucky.  The woman knows." And I've known for a long, long time that it just isn't going to happen.

Wrong Impressions

I think people get the wrong impressions about me.

Lately it's been bantered about that I come off as immature, I come on too strong, etc, I'm flighty. To these people I say: Whatever. You do not know me.

One of the things you have to understand about me is that I have been living under a rock for the last five or six years. First off, I've been going to college for what seems like forever. I didn't take a break after finishing high school, but immediately went to community college and then onto CU-Denver.  I wasn't quite where I wanted to be in terms of knowledge gleaned, so I enrolled into graduate school right as I finished my bachelor's degree. Although school is one of the few areas of my life where I excel, the amount of studying I have to do is prodigous. It's not unusual for me to be studying for two or three hours every day, then write a term paper. Ergo, I didn't have a lot of free time on my hands.

Second, I was stuck in a decidedly unadventurous relationship for three and a half years. We went out to dinner once every six months.  Occasionally we saw a movie or invited friends over. About 80% of the time, I came home from work or school, we cooked dinner together, and we watched television or played videogames. There was very little sense of adventure or romance, even though I loved him very much. Because of that homebody attidude I had with my ex, I didn't have a huge social circle of friends -- in fact, it was pretty much limited to 3 or 4 people I saw on weekends. Great friends, I'll admit -- but let's face it, you know all their stories already and you just wind up doing the same things with them.

Now that I am free, I want to experience life -- I'm not looking to be tied down to any one guy or any one group of friends. I want to ride in fast cars down the highway blasting music.  I want to go out to the different museums and performing arts stuff and poetry slams. I want to go clubbing -- I've never been to a club. I want to hang out with poeple I can be silly and immature with, but also people I can converse about science and philosophy and politics with. I don't want to get drunk every weekend, but when I've had an especially rough week -- I'd like to go out with people that understand that I need to forget for a little while. If I seem silly and immature -- it's because I'm twenty-fucking-four years old and for the first time since i was 19 or 20, I'm actually starting to live a little.  So I think I'm allowed to be a little wild and crazy.

Can I be focused and mature? Yes. I can sit and debate politics or religion as nicely as the next person, make arguments based on logic. I am well versed in all literature and most science, particularly sociology, communication, psychology, anthropology and paleontology.  I can go on for days about music and pop culture. I can talk about the arts, I grew up around artists and I've had season tickets to the Arvada Center for the last 8 years. I've got a lot more of a sense of maturity and responsibility than most people my age.

The thing is, sometimes I don't want to be the mature one in a relationship -- whether it be with friends or with people I'm dating. I like rough housing and being a huge flirt. I love going out dancing and drinking. I love going to concerts and just making a fool of myself. I like going to bad movies and making sarcastic comments during the whole thing. If you can't accept that -- tough shit.

I can be a grown-up ... I just don't always want to be one. So to people who can't understand that, I say: You don't know me.  And now, you never will.

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On Being a Plain Jane

Okay.  It's no surprise that a lot of people think of me as less-than-attractive. Maybe even ugly.  In fact, people have told me all my life that I am not attractive physically.  If I had a dollar for all the times I've been told "Well, you're a nice girl, but you're just not my type" or "I like you, but I'm just not attracted to you" from members of the opposite sex, I'd be close to paying off my student loans.

Let's face it. I'm the type of girl that guys take to the bars as a wing chick so they can pick up more attractive women.  I'm the girl that female friends like to hang around with because I make them look so much better. I'm not pretty, I'm not outgoing or confident, but I'm personable. There's a reason why I dated a blind man for over three years. I think of myself as a Plain Jane.

There are, however, upsides to being a less-than-attractive woman.  As Katherine Hepburn said, "Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do." And this is very, very true.

 We know what men want, because we are the chicks  men come to in order to complain about women, as they don't see us as elligible females. We know men are underhanded and cruel most of the time, because we're the ones that the hot guys befriended in order to get our pretty friend's number. We know not to big romantic gestures, or expensive dinners, or a lot of compliments, or our boyfriends' to dress well/be really attractive/rich. Our standards are more realistic than a pretty girl's expectations, so when the "new relationship" feel is over, we don't feel necessarily cheated when our boyfriends stop showering us with presents to impress us.

We also understand that beauty fades.  So we work at being a good girlfriend and a good wife.  We pick out the few things we think make us attractive to enhance, like the busty girls wearing pushup bras and the full-lipped girls wearing red lipstick.  Some of us might pierce or tattoo ourselves, so that when people stare at us in horror, we're at least aware that they're staring at something we can identify. We take pains to smell good.

We take care of ourselves as best as we can, we work on our domestic skills like being good cooks and neathousekeepers (ever notice the really hot girls tend to be huge slobs?). We work at being good conversationalists, well-read and well-versed in the topics our boyfriends/crushes are interested in.  We take up our man's hobbies ourselves. Plain Janes are also better in bed, because the hot girls get count on their attractiveness to lure guys in and keep him-- we concentrate on making the sex so good that, despite our looks, he wants more. We're less likely to cheat and more willing to commit when he's ready to commit, because let's face it -- who wants a Plain Jane? We're also more self-sufficient, because unlike a pretty girl, there's no guarantee we're going to have a husband to take care care of us.

Now, I know that there's going to be a few people that read this blog that will vehemently object to the self-label of a Plain Jane, or even an Ugly Girl. But that's okay because as I get older, I'm getting used to the idea that I will never be beautiful without a *lot* of plastic surgery. I don't mind as much as I did as a teenager. And yeah, I would a lot of the good traits I do have as a woman in order to be a pretty girl, because it makes the game of life a hell of a lot easier. But there are upsides to being not-attractive, and I'm learning to live with them.

The Drugs Don’t Love Me

Or at least, it seems like the drugs don't love me.  Be prepared for a TMI discussion of side effects.

Okay, after months of putting up with nausea and bloating from the gastric reflux, I finally felt well enough to get off the Prilosec about a month ago.  Very little reoccurance of these symptoms.  I experienced some appetite loss, but I thought it was mostly the depression -- when I had the gastric reflux, I was still hungry, I just felt like crap after I ate.  Even my lower gastrointestinal issues seemed to resolve themselves after I went off the Prilosec. 

However, in the four days since I started the Paxil, I've been getting an upset digestive system again.  Now, the doctor and the perscription literature all state that this is not uncommon.  At the time, I thought "Well, a little upset stomach, no big deal."  Surely it would be no worse than the fluttery tummy I get before job interviews and tests.

I was so wrong. The last three nights have been sheer misery.  I don't know why the side effects decided to hit me about twelve hours after I have first ingested the medication, but it does.  And the side effects have been: bad nausea, projectile vomiting (newly discovered last night -- fun fun!), bloating, a reimergence of gastric reflux symptoms, and lower GI issues. Yup, what a fantastic thing to experience as I'm trying to get to sleep.

So I called my doctor.  She advised me to keep taking my medication, because if she switched medication it will make me just as sick as the Paxil.  She also wants me to start taking the Prilosec again, since Paxil can restart gastric reflux. Fantastic.  At least I'm assured if the side effects don't go away within a week, I should call her.

The drugs don't love me.  And I'm quickly starting to not love the drugs.

(no subject)

Say hello to my little friends! *Shakes pill bottle*

Following a visit to the doctor yesterday, I now have a prescription for Paxil. For those of you that have been following my little saga, you are aware that things have not been going well for me lately. My friend Keith claims it's my quarter life crisis hitting big-time. A lot of people are calling it a "rough patch." Most of my friends have expressed concern about my well-being, and at times, my physical safety.  I've been abnormally depressed, and I think the onset was actually last winter, but it started to get much worse about six months ago.
But, I've been hesitant to seek any aide for my depression. See, for me depression is a normal thing. I've been fighting clinical depression my entire life and it has become my constant companion. Kind of like Lionel from Peanuts and his ever-trusty blanket, I'm never without it. Feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness are normal. The occasional urge to go crawl into a hole and never emerge is somewhat normal. Heck, even vague suicidal thoughts are not unknown strangers in my psyche. I have a slew of coping mechanisms to deal with those feelings. However, somewhere along the line I crossed from functionally depressed to nonfunctioning. I attribute this to when I started to experience severe appetite loss and insomnia, and it hasn't let up. So I decided that, as an alternative to eating a gun or downing vodka-and-oxycodone cocktail, I needed something more than my normal coping strategies.
My doctor was wonderfully understanding throughout the appointment. She double-checked that I fit the diagnostic criteria for someone that needs to go on antidepressants, and of course I'm a textbook case. She kept her expression neutral, her voice warm and professional, and her explanations simple. We discussed different medications. I'm to take 10 mg of Paxil, which is the lowest dose that can be prescribed. If I don't have any adverse reactions but don't notice any real improvement over the next three weeks, I have a follow up appointment in which we can discuss upping the dose. She wants me on them for at least six months to a year, but considering my insurance expires in May, I'm not sure how doable that treatment plan is.
The thing is that I'm not terribly happy about this. I grew up on medications and in shrinks' offices, both for my ADD and for clinical depression. Literally, I went through five or six different kinds of medications from the age of six to the age of sixteen. I felt incredibly triumphant when my doctors said they were going to take me off pills once and for all.
It feels like failure. I know, intellectually, that depression just means my brain has a chemical imbalance. After spending half my childhood with shrinks and after three college courses in psychology, I can even tell you which chemicals are out of whack.  But I thought the part of my life where I needed to be on antidepressants was over. I spent so long accruing ways to deal with the depression without resorting to meds, and now I feel like I'm backsliding. I've been through so much worse without drugs.  I feel like I should be able to do this without drugs. I look at that bottle of little white tablets, and something in me screams "Don't take those pills!!!"
That reaction, however, is nothing compared to the reaction I had when my doctor kindly suggested that I seek out talk therapy. I'd honestly rather take the drugs than see a shrink. As long as I'm just taking medication, it's a chemical problem. Whenever I saw a shrink as a kid, I felt like there was something intrinsically wrong with me, like my very soul was tainted. I looked my doctor in the eye and said, "Um. No way." Fortunately, she dropped it.
So, tomorrow I start taking the pills, no matter how unhappy I am about the situation. I decided the best course was to start the medication on a day where I was at home, with people around. That way, if something does go wrong or I start feeling weird because of the side effects, I'm not in public or alone when it happens. Here's hoping nothing screwy occurs.

(no subject)



28th of the Month. This day is hard for me.

Every month it's a reminder of what exactly I threw away and then fucked up until I could never get it back. Ironic, that the journey begins and ends on the same day.

On February 28th, 2007 I remember sitting in my grandmother's borrowed car, applying a fresh coat of lipgloss with hands trembling from nervousness. I'd been parked across the street for five minutes, trying to regain some composure after getting lost (two wrong turns and eventually having to turn around in the McDonald's parking lot to backtrack) and do a make-up-and-hair check. We'd talked nonstop on the phone for two weeks and I finally had a day off from homework and the job and school where I could come down to see him.  We were going to order Chinese food and watch a movie. I looked up, and there he was, wearing a Crackerjack novelty tee and dirty jeans. He'd obviously come outside to investigate whose car was outside, and had turned back to head back in the house. I caught him just in time.

The day after, I wrote in my Livejournal: "He told me that he's starting to fall in love with me, and that scares me a bit. Not because I don't feel the same, but I have a regrettable tendancy to have very intense and very *brief* relationships when they move as quickly as this one is starting to move. I want this one to last."

Oh, yes, I wanted this one to last.  I sacrificed so much to make it work.  Finally, after years with no definite plans to move forward with the relationship, I gave it up as useless.  I let my own fears and insecurities about not being able to "close the deal" blind me to what I had and who I had it with. On June 28th, 2007, I thew away the best thing that ever happened to me. And the aftermath is killing me, even five months later.

It's days like today that I wish I'd never gotten out of the car that morning. I honestly wish that I'd never met him.

The Snarky Crayon

Crayon Box survey.

1. Are you currently mad at someone? I carry a deep-seated hatred based on anger towards several someones at the moment.
2. Which of your family members has the worst temper? Oh, definately me. Short fuse.
3. Have you ever thrown something at anyone? Yup.
4. Does your face turn red when you're angry? I get flushed when I get ticked, so I suppose so.
5. When you're mad do you prefer to stare angrily or yell? Oh, I'm rather vocal when I'm mad. I don't yell, I shriek and cry intermittedly.

1. Has anyone ever thrown a surprise party for you? No :o(
2. Are you easily excited? Not lately.
3. What event is coming up that you're most excited about? I'm not looking forward to anything.
4. If you won a million dollars, what would be your first thought? Get out of my parents' house!! And get me a new life!
5. If you could have anything right now what would it be? Peace.

1. Name: Wendy
2. Birthday: May 24
3. What's your main goal in life? I have no idea at this point. Goals seem to be so irrelevent to where I am right now.
4. Do you want to have children? Doubt it'll happen, you need a man for that.
5. How do you want to die? ... young and tragically, so I'll be remembered for *something.*

1. Do you love someone? No
2. Do you have a bf/gf? No
3. Is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? Fuck that noise. Whoever wrote that should have been dragged out in the street and shot for coming up with that trite, overquoted bullshit.
4. Do you believe in love at first sight? Not anymore.
5. Would you tattoo your lovers name on your body? Hell no. They never stick around, so why should I get a permanent reminder of failure?

Q: How many beds did you lay in today? One, my own.
Q: What color shirt are you wearing? Black and grey and white
Q: Name one thing that you do everyday? Urinate.
Q: How much cash do you have on you right now? Maybe 10 bucks or so. But it's not literally on me, it's in my purse about 20 yards away
Q: Is Tom on your Top friends list? nope
Q: Look to your left. What's there? A CD player, a notepad, a camera, a photo box (also known as kindling)
Q: What's the last piece of clothing you borrowed from someone? All my friends are too skinny for me to borrow clothes from. Pity the fat girl!
Q: What website(s) do you visit the most during the day? Myspace, my webcomics, livejournal.
Q: Do you have plants in your room? Nope. I have a black thumb and live in the basement, so plants don't last.
Q: Does anything hurt on your body right now? Yeah, my lower abdomin's killing me and I'm cursing my misfortune to be born a woman.
Q: What city was your last taxi cab ride in? Alicia's 21st birthday. I don't cab it often.
Q: Do you own a picture phone? I don't even really have much of a cell phone, period.
Q: Recent time you were really upset? Every day.

1. Person you saw? Marc
2. Person that said they loved you? I don't remember being told that in the last several weeks.
3. Movie watched in cinema? Beowulf
4. Song you listened to? I donno, some dumb pop song on the radio.
5. Person you talked on the phone with? Mom, maybe.

1. What are you doing right now? Screwing around with this thing.
2. What are you doing tonight? I already did it. I now look forward to another sleepless night reading trashy mysteries and binge eating in bed.
3. What are you going to eat? There's one last cookie in the kitchen...
4. Did you accomplish anything today? Sorta. I did the dishes, made an appointment with the doctor to get on happy pills, and did my homework -- from last week.
5. What shoes are you wearing? Black Sketchers.

1. Is? Wedensday
2. My plans are? To just get through the day without wanting to shoot myself out of boredom and loneliness (hint hint, wide open for socializing!!)
3. Are you going to laugh? Maybe if the cat does something funny like fall off the coffee table again.
4. Any TV show you watch coming on? Nah. I think I'll do that...stupid homework thing again.
5. Do you know what you will eat? Leftovers and whatever I can scrounge from the dwindling food supply.
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