Daily Have-Done List - Sept 27th 2012

So I've decided to keep this blog as a daily list of my accomplishments, because I often feel like I'm falling behind, never getting anything done, etc. When I look back I usually have had a pretty full day, so I'm hoping this will help with my mood when I get into a helpless funk kind of vibe.

Thursday Sept. 27th 2012

Today I-

Dealt with a sick dog
Did laundry and cleaned up poop
Made banana chocolate chip loaf and muffins
Made bad meringues
Met with a charity to donate to from cafe
Paid the gov hst
Wrote two business cheques
Didn't strangle Tiffany for verbing nouns

Will hopefully do dishes and tidy apartment.

xo

On queue - the 4 o'clock water works.

I can't be strong for everyone all the time, anymore.
I don't know what broke in me, but all of a sudden it's too much.
I can't take it anymore.
This is what long, torturous heartbreak feels like.

What's Up With That?

I'm trying very, very hard to make myself aware of these judgements I pass on people, that propagate opinions I form without fully realizing it.

These pre-conceived notions that someone may not be completely honest with me, which taint how I see and feel about them.

Hey self, what's up with that? I don't appreciate spending my time second guessing someone's motives. Or how they feel about me.
And I'd like to appreciate the time I spend with them without having that niggling feeling in the back of my brain.

Ugh. Today can just go fuck itself.

Girl Boners.

The only celebrity I've been compared to in my life has been Maggie Gyllenhaal.
The first time was in a Winners, while I was waiting in line far too long for a pair of shoes (I didn't even wear them that often, come to think of it) - and the lady was almost certain I was actually her, at first.
I had no idea who she was.

Since I was 22 or 23 and had gotten to that age without ever once being compared to someone famous, I naturally looked her up when I got home.
I was stoked. She's gorgeous.

I've since grown to have a permanent girl boner for her - have you seen Secretary? Or Stranger Than Fiction? (If you haven't - stop what you're doing now and go watch them.)

Seriously, amirite?
I don't really think I look much like her, but it's been four times I've been told I have, so I take the compliment and continue to be amazed.

THIS GIRL! I GET COMPARED TO THIS GIRL! SHE'S SOFA KING ADORABLE!

All this just to say - I've been feeling a lot better about myself lately. Like I'm more comfortable in my own skin, and not just the physical skin. Sure my inner critic can be noisy, but I'm getting much better at telling her to go pound sand.

Maybe it's because I'm finally feeling like I'm where I want to be, at this point in my life? I couldn't have guessed it would take heartbreak (getting better on that front) and going completely broke (also ameliorating slightly) - but it must have something to do with it.

I don't daydream of being someone else, or living another life while I shower. Random people as well as close friends tell me I look happier, and smile more.
(And yes, while showering is usually when I daydream the most about weird shit.)

I'm just going to go with it, and not over-analyze it too much - if it ain't broke, why fix it - right?

A thought. (that I'm glad I'm not really sharing.)

I think my least favorite emotion is currently disassociation.

That sinking feeling that all your stupid inside jokes, with any of your friends or lovers, aren't as entertaining or relevant to them as they are to you.

It's being vulnerable in a ridiculous sense, and feeling all the more vulnerable for the fact that no one notices, or knows you well enough to recognize it.

Like a perpetual motion machine of vulnerability.

That's the most inane comparison I've come up with lately, I think.

Good thing I wasn't feeling vain enough to share this blog address, or I'd feel further worse for exposing my poor vulnerability slash disassociative puns.

Epiphany

Relating to how I feel about myself.
Relating to why I feel the way I do, and relating to why I've been doing what I've been doing.
A lot of guilt, and masochism in there, kids.
A theory - I'm engaging in completely emotionally uninvolved relationships, and pushing away anyone looking for more, because I don't feel I deserve more, after what I did.
And what did I do, exactly?
I hurt someone that I love very much, and hurt myself, because I felt I'd exhausted all other options available to me.
Sometimes I wonder if I tried hard enough to see all those options?
I know he refused to see any option other than being right, which inherently lead to me being wrong. I'd be willing to accept being wrong, if I could be met halfway on the blame.
Oh well.
So now I shy away from nice boys and girls, because I'm worried that I play too rough. I find someone else who has teeth as sharp as mine.
I parry and thrust with inane witty banter, and my hips.
If that's the most I can ask for an emotional connection for right now, I'm at least more comfortable with knowing what's driving it.
I sound incredibly cliched to myself right now, but I think I'll stop giving a fuck about that.
(so what if I'm not a unique godamn snowflake?)

Enough Introspective Babble

And now for something completely different!

(as a side note, one day I am going to let all the auto corrected words stand in an email post, just to see how hilarious it turns out). 

What is it about nursing an unhealthy crush on an older British dude that makes me want to read poetry?

(not even vaguely healthy, pretty sure stems from some emotional unavailability and over charged, unfulfilled sex drive..)

I haven't touched a poetry book in freaking ages (I feel like poetry is best read from paper, color me old fashioned) - but I swear every time I see him I think to myself "Self, you should seduce that man." (I digress..) 

Which is immediately followed by the thought "Self, you remember that amazing old book of Byron poetry? You should pick that shit up sometime."

(Don'tcha think?)

Baffling. I have some severely fucked up notions of romance, let me tell you.