Writing the letter

I wrote it. To me it’s over 2 weeks over due, but to everyone else it’s probably too soon. Or to him, far too soon. If I were to fall off the face of the earth, he’d probably be a happy man. Except, apparently he doesn’t know me well. We only lived together and dated and stuff… I said I wasn’t going to avoid things. It might be best to lay low for a while and not cause any more scenes, I’ll admit that.

Wednesday could have gone better. Drunk Pam was having a good time. Drunk Pam missed him and Drunk Pam has absolutely no impulse control. This has been evidenced on my occasions, i.e. every time I get drunk. If hugging everyone, the attempted groping, and attempted making out while previously drunk is any indication, I’ll probably still feel the same way.

Drunk Pam decided that hugging friends wasn’t enough. Drunk Pam went for the hug. She was forcefully denied. Sober Pam doesn’t take this well, let alone Drunk Pam. If anyone ever had doubts of my feelings, they shouldn’t anymore. Most girls I’ve met don’t crumple to the sidewalk, refuse to get up, not that I could have moved on my own accord, and get helped out by the bartender.

Not embarrassing for either one of us or any of our friends. Drunk Pam is on a break, with an exception on Tuesday, for a previously arranged karaoke night.

I tend to be the type of person who takes charge and fixes everything. I mediate and solve things. I don’t always have tact, but rarely am I afraid of expressing my opinion. I’ve worked in so many groups and with hundreds of people by this time. I know why certain people and I work well together. So this not speaking, solving or doing anything is killing me. It’s been killing me for about the week before the official break up. I talk things out.

Allen is not this type of person. He’s mellow and apparently doesn’t share his opinions and gripes. He gives up after one big fight instead of working with me. He pushes me away and pretends I don’t exist. Which just makes me want to be an attention whore, but I’ve never done well being ignored.

He and I need to find a way to be civil and exist in social situations. We have too many mutual friends to not have that. And he really needs to know that Drunk Pam is really friendly.


May you live in interesting times

These times are defining. It almost seems like a cliché for me at this rate. It’s these times, though that define the type of person you are, or want to be.

To say that the past 2 years have been challenging would be an understatement. Challenging doesn’t even begin to cover. As it turns out, living with an abusive guy, leaving said guy, moving in with my mom and her abusive alcoholic husband, getting kicked out by the alcoholic, crashing at a guy I had just met’s apartment after staying in my car, dating this guy, having this guy shatter my heart takes it out of you. Add to the fact the longest I’ve held a job at this rate is 5 months, my life is anything but stable. In two years, I’ve lived at 6 different places. I had the delightful time learning that even while not packed or ready in any sense, I can move in about an hour, even at midnight. And between a Focus and a Prius, my all my things fit, except my dresser. I still feel like I should toss things, but I think that’s my pessimist side.

This whole breakup debacle is showing me who my friends are, more than anything. I may have lost the guy, but I have friends to help me up. Well, I didn’t really lose him. I’m not sure what is with me and suddenly crazy men. I really don’t understand that one. Not one, but two. Two guys have acted this way to me. The first had warning signs I ignored. Really should have seen that one coming. The  second time took me by surprise. There was a distinct lack of red flags.

The person I owe the absolute most to is the girl who refused to let me be homeless, has put up with all my shit and whining, and keeps telling me the things I need to hear, not what I want to hear. There are honorable mentions to the friend who took me back to her apartment to sober me up after I was bawling on the sidewalk and refusing to get up. (I couldn’t have walked it, nor could she have supported a 5’8″ drunk girl.) And finally, Michelle the bartender, who helped me walk to my car (other friend drove, I bawled in the passenger seat, all curled up).

“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive
element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my
daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make
life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument
of inspiration; I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all
situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is
escalated or de-escalated, and a person humanized or de-humanized. If
we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as
they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832)

And we’re back

And by we, I really mean just me. Possibly some imaginary freinds too.

I’m really hungry and I ate all the food. I’d go get something, but I”m down to about $4. I wouldn’t be in such dire straights if I would have gotten paid like I should have. Damn snow.

It got me stuck in parking lots and helped burn out my clutch, I”m sure. Granted, that’s had some help by someone else. It was a good cause and I’m a sucker for a good cause. I taught a friend to drive stick shift. He had the basics down, i.e. driving laws, put clutch into change gears, don’t kill anyone. It’s about the third time I’ve ever let anyone drive my vehicle, ever. I’m a little anal-retentive. Somehow, I just went with it. There were even moments my anal-retentive self should have freaked out. Like when he, squealed the tires, albeit by accident. Granted, everything he had done, I did too and in that car. Even then, he didn’t do any worse than either my boyfriend, and fellow stick driver, or I had done. It was a pretty enjoyable afternoon. I also found it a bit funny because last weekend, my boyfriend and my friend’d girlfriend were at the same event. It was weekend switch. Except there was a lack of swinging, I promise. I’m quite certain I would know if the swinging was going on. Long story with girl talk. Details aren’t important.

At least I have a nice blonde to keep me company

My boyfriend is at D and D. He’s about the biggest nerd I know, but that’s okay. I like nerds. I’m just chilling, waiting on his return. There’s only water left to drink. I had a mildly spicy dinner and didn’t want water, so I broke into the beer. Now i’m into the fireball. Okay, okay I know one shouldn’t drink alone, but I’m going to be joined. eventually.

Okay, I’m booze. But I’m 23, with a boyfriend, employed- not well, but I do have a job, and not responsible for any children. I may have lost my pants already, but really it’s not bad. I could be way, way worse. Like I could be addicted to pills or have a kid to take care of. I don’t have these obstacles to my alcohol drinking.

I was going to make a point here about something, but then I started drinking, so here we are. It is warm in here and I lost my pants. Soon, I’ll lose my shirt and possibly my bra. Not like that hasn’t happened today…

My boyfriend was stressed out and I wanted to make him feel better and what better way to make the boy feel better than BOOBS! The best part was that he had his back to me, and I went over where he was redditing and I was playing with his hair. He enjoys that. But didn’t realize I was topless. And in front of the open window. I went back to the bed where he then turned around and gleefully realized I was without shirt and bra. I made his day. then he made mine. dear god he is good at making me orgasm. just saying. He rather enjoyed the whole exchange.

I love you. and fireball. and beer. and food. apparently i’m hungry. and drunk. it’s a pretty good night only to get more fun.

You wouldn’t believe my life if you were living it

No, I’m not trying to make you jealous. It’s not that fabulous. Okay, part of my life is.

I know it’s been a while. And normally writing is my release and fun for me. My life has been turned upside down and I’m still figuring out the pieces. It’s been very informative. If you’ve never had your life turned upside down, it’s weird learning how to live again, but at the same time you find out so much about the people around you, like who’s willing to help pick up and dust you off.

I guess to know what has happened to me recently, one must first understand how I landed back in my hometown. I was still living and working in the town where my college is located. Life was alright. It wasn’t fantastically awesome, but it didn’t totally suck either. I didn’t make much, but I didn’t need much. That changed one morning. My roommate lost it. He lost his shit. He had been mad at me for months. It was a wee bit shocking to me. And it scared the shit out of me. My one regret of that morning was that I didn’t call the police, but I didn’t feel like dealing with paperwork and headache. Little did I know, that was the easy way. Long, detailed story short, it was bad and I was stuck for about 2 months. I get that my parents wanted me to be self-sufficient and not come crawling back home, but I didn’t care. I pretty much lost my job because I had a breakdown from the stress of being in the apartment. I didn’t go anywhere so that I couldn’t run into my roommate. I was isolated in my room, which will take a damn toll. Just trust me on this. Humans need contact. That’s how the hunter/gathers survived and, thus, we need social interaction.

One day I was fed up and decided I was leaving. So I did. I packed my stuff and left, like I had been saying for months. Yeah, I wasn’t the most welcome person. My mom wasn’t thrilled that I wouldn’t talk about what transpired in that apartment, but even now, I don’t want to. I’ve been living with what is likely PTSD. Which also lost me another job when I nearly stopped breathing while having a panic attack. So that’s fun. It’s okay because I found another job and I still work there. In fact, I did tonight, which is why I’m still awake.

Well, I also ended up with another job, which sounded wonderful, but it didn’t turn out to be. I shouldn’t have done anything about it after the interview, but I argued with my stepdad about my work and amount of work. Let’s just say, nothing was ever good enough. I get that I’m not going to work some place amazing while I figure out what the hell I’m doing in life. I work in a retail store. I get that. But I also know that the environment at the other job isn’t a good one. And I’d have to quit my awesome job that I do actually love. The hours would have been 10pm- 6am at a business, albeit growing, is located in my loathed hometown. It’s really convenient… for now. But I’ve been trying to get out of the hometown since I was like 12. I have like one friend in town. And I would barely get to see her with that schedule, not to mention my new friends 45 minutes away… and the boy, too. That schedule would put me into social isolation. I’m still fragile. And like hell am I going through that again.

And I, very not succinctly, stood up for that. I guess another important part is that I have depression and have spent far too much of my life suicidal. In my isolation, I very much so wanted to kill myself. But I didn’t because I had something to look forward too. Here, not so much. Yeah, I can get better hours and pay and whatnot, but I’m still stuck in the one place I don’t want to be. Knowing that, and putting all the pieces together, to me, it boils down to life or death. And yes, that is a massive simplification, but that’s how I see it. And frankly, my perspective is the important one. I’m the one who manages my depression. In fact, my mom doesn’t know I was ever diagnosed.

In the blow up, and I like to picture it kind of like a gas leak, with the release of fuel and this being the spark, I choose life. And I was given the damn death sentence. And I was kicked out. I was kicked out for standing my ground and not just giving in. No, it has not been easy, but was it worth it? Hell yes.

While, my voice may have not been acknowledged and life could be easier back home, I stood up for something I believe in and refused to compromise. I fought like hell to not be suicidal, then I fought the depression, then I fought my isolation, then I fought with my parents frequently, and then I fought to protect myself. I’ve become quite the fighter.

I understand that maybe I would alright with that job. But I know my triggers and I know what I can and can not handle. I can weather this.

I don’t have it all figured out yet. I have a goal and a deadline. So I’m working like hell to make that happen. Until then, I found an amazing support system. Some one I wasn’t expecting to step up did. And I’m hoping like hell to hold onto this person. I hope it works out.

He was completely unexpected in my life and pretty much amazing. And I couldn’t ask for anything better in my eyes. This time I refuse to compromise myself. (Not compromise all together, just things like my morals, ethics and values.) I am a damn lucky girl.

The Southerner

I had an internship and was technically a manager. It was the summer of 2008 and I was working at my hometown Wendy’s. My first day I met Mike. I elbowed him. He made a show of pain and I vowed nest time it would be harder. I’m super nice like that.

We saw each other a lot since we worked together, but kept it mostly professional at work. It wasn’t like I was acting all slutty all the time. I save that for when I’m drunk and I was too young to legally drink.

It was a fun summer being all crazy about a guy. But it didn’t last. It didn’t really have a chance. I went back to school; he stayed put. My life kept moving forward and at a breakneck pace, but he’d never be able to keep up. Phones and the internet can’t save everything.

Fast forward to now. I went back in. Saw him again. I’ve never been the type to talk about chemistry, unless of course it’s a class and we’re creating water. (True story. Made water in one chem lab. Best high school teacher.) We still have what is colloquially known as chemistry. It’s really more like electricity. That would be closer to the scientific truth, not that I like to be annoyingly precise (think Dr. Temperance Brennan on Bones). That’s the interesting part to me. It’s not what happened as a 20 year old kid, but three years later and how there’s still electricity. However, me being me, I would never date him again. He isn’t exactly available from what I glean from my highly accurate and reliable sources (the internets).

I won’t go back because I’m stubborn and have some strong opinions when it comes to relationships. It’s not that my rules are silly, like I won’t call a guy or ask his sorry ass out. I’m also not the type to leave my flaws in the dark. I’d rather shine the light right on them and face them head on. It’s better to know sooner rather than later in my book. These do not make good surprises. And regardless, of my faults, I do not expect nor require a man to fix me. I save my own ass, thank you. I figure, there’s a reason we’re not together. Why should I question that? If it was “meant to be,” it’ll be. Must not be that way because I’m severely single, but extremely happy. I don’t want to be in a relationship for the sake of being in a relationship. Been there. It sucked. I refuse to sell myself short. I’m fully aware I can’t change a man anymore than I can change the stars in the night sky; I just have to accept them as they are.

I know I’ve made mistakes. And I’ve seen others make some. It’s not the mistakes that are important most of the time, but the lessons learned and how to apply them.

High School was Boring, Except the Chicken Pox

As I have said before, I like boys. They give me interesting stories.

First up, we have Thomas. We were in NJROTC together. You know those kids who were in uniform once a week on campus? Oh you didn’t have those? Well your school wasn’t as cool as mine. I was 15 and he was 16. We had shared NJROTC together all year, but he didn’t ask me out until summer.

And this summer started out great. I missed finals because I was sick. “With what?” You ask. I was highly contagious with chicken pox. Kids normally get those, and me. By use of the internet, we communicated since I was only being allowed to be around my siblings in hopes I will expose them to my disease. I did give it to my older brother. That was fun. I made sure he was going to get this. Who says I don’t share?

He was at a graduation party, which comes into play much, much later. (Some people need to get out of looking in their hometown for available men.)

Nothing really happened in our summer song relationship. Okay, yes, there was a first kiss. No, I wasn’t drunk this whole relationship. We hung out together. This was the time I went to the library a lot and watched my younger siblings.

The interesting part came afterwards. He decided to start dating my best friend. Yeah, we weren’t the best of friends then. AAnd then there was the time I ran him right out of my Supply Room. (NJROTC nerd, remember? Somebody had to be in charge of all the uniforms and inventory. It just happened to be me.)

I have patellofemeral syndrome and that makes my knee hurts every once in a while. That was one of those days. My fathful Supply Reps found me a wheeled chair and helped me inventory. He came in to see (read: take over) Supply. Like hell was I going to let this happen. I didn’t care how much it hurt, he was getting the hell out of my Supply room. True story. Somehow in my running him out of my room, my knee popped back into place.

I admit, I went a little crazy. This was also the time in my life I was known to yell at the mice that made that room their home. Yell things like “I’M GOING TO GET YOU, YOU DAMN LITTLE SQUEAKERS!”

Oh high school.

Oh boy!

So, yeah, I’ve always been a fan of boys. They were always more fun than those pesky girls. Girls would stab you in the back with a smile on their face and, well, boys don’t.

I’m not unable to have female friends, but it’s a consenus that we all like boys, but we’re all boy’s girls, if you know what I mean. I love football. I’m just sad I never got to play outside of 9th grade PE, but I hate running; it’s not because I’m  a girl.

All through the years, I liked boys. One of them, Joey was a gorgeous, Hispanic, nice boy. Mind you, this was middle school. He was just really fabulous, even if only a friend. As we made our way in high school, I found other boys, those they were a bit thin on the ground. I always held a specal place for Joey and his overall niceness. Eventually I started to wonder if he batted for the other team. I’m not one to confront anyone about things like that. You love who you love, right?

So I was on Facebook today. Yep, it’s confirmed. Good for Joey.