Well crap. Stuff's bothering me. (There's my next blog title: Stuff That Bothers Me.)
I had a sucky day yesterday. Remember how I was up reading porn erotica? Until, like, 5-ish, and then I decided I should probably give this whole sex thing another shot and then I fell asleep again. And I slept for a couple hours and then Fran called and woke me up, and he's all, "I've really lost my job this time... and I'm thinking of coming to Texas."
And how often have we all heard this? And by that I mean, how often have I freaking BLOGGED about this? And see, after the last time when he said he lost his job, I didn't even mention the fact that after this he apparently DIDN'T lose his job because he said that they said (sigh), that he could just pay off the ticket or whatever... So I got a month and a half of more child support and that's all good, but then he called yesterday, blah blah blah, to say that he's lost his job after all because they can't insure him as a hybrid-limo driver blah blah because of his driving record. Blah freaking blah. And you'd think I'd be kinda used to this by now, wouldn't you? And yet - surprise! - I'm not.
It's the constant roller coaster of sometimes getting my six hundred per month child support and sometimes not. Plus, I think of course that he's lying to me. Allegedly they never found a will from his father and so things got divided half to his mother and a quarter to him and to is older sister, and Fran's all, "I'm going to just sign my portion over to my mother," and I'm all thinking, "The first crackhead in HISTORY to pass on money!' And I'm thinking he did it because he thought that if he inherited money part of it would go to pay my back child support and so he made a deal with his mother where he'd sign it over to her and then she'd covertly pass it on to him, blah blah.
But none of this really matters. And I mean it doesn't matter because there's nothing I can do about it. There's not much I can do about any of this. The attorney general in Texas is nearly useless. There's basically nothing I can do except get better locks on my doors if Fran heads towards Texas. Which he won't, because I'm thinking he's sitting on a big bunch of money in Boston, enough to keep him in crack for a while.
But I'm so angry. Even though I'm trying to let it go.
Which means, I'm thinking, that I need to stop blogging about it.
Though I can't stop thinking about it.
Maybe I should throw myself into self-criticism. (Because that's always fun.) Okay. So... What the fuck is WRONG with me?
Dea's comment made me think way too much. Made me think and, you know, generally loathe myself.
Everything I've been doing for the last, idk, three or more years, has been geared towards totally changing myself. Changing all the useless, stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, contemptible things I saw in myself.
I wanted to be better. I wanted to transcend all the crap. I wanted to get smart and strong and independent. I wanted to stop basing my identity, my validity, on the reactions of others. I wanted, I really, really wanted, to stop thinking that people would only like me if they wanted to fuck me.
I knew I'd gotten old, I knew it was time to stop. I knew that even if I hadn't gotten old, it was time to stop. I knew that superficial outward physical attractiveness was shallow and useless and that it was pathetic of me to still want to be pretty, to still want people to think I was pretty.
Because what is pretty, anyway? Nothing but some artificial societal standard. Something useless.
And I thought I was getting better. All smarter. All more aware of stuff, aware of myself. And then I totally fuck up and basically ask people to validate, idk, SOMETHING. Validate something about me.
I'm so mad at myself. I'm so disappointed. I thought I was, I don't know, smarter or something.
***
You know, it's a good thing that I've basically isolated myself from any kind of social life. I can't obviously do social. Celibacy's the word for the sex I abstain from; what's the word for abstaining from any kind of social interaction?
There's got to be a word.
***
Crap. I think I'm having another crappy day...
I had a sucky day yesterday. Remember how I was up reading
And how often have we all heard this? And by that I mean, how often have I freaking BLOGGED about this? And see, after the last time when he said he lost his job, I didn't even mention the fact that after this he apparently DIDN'T lose his job because he said that they said (sigh), that he could just pay off the ticket or whatever... So I got a month and a half of more child support and that's all good, but then he called yesterday, blah blah blah, to say that he's lost his job after all because they can't insure him as a hybrid-limo driver blah blah because of his driving record. Blah freaking blah. And you'd think I'd be kinda used to this by now, wouldn't you? And yet - surprise! - I'm not.
It's the constant roller coaster of sometimes getting my six hundred per month child support and sometimes not. Plus, I think of course that he's lying to me. Allegedly they never found a will from his father and so things got divided half to his mother and a quarter to him and to is older sister, and Fran's all, "I'm going to just sign my portion over to my mother," and I'm all thinking, "The first crackhead in HISTORY to pass on money!' And I'm thinking he did it because he thought that if he inherited money part of it would go to pay my back child support and so he made a deal with his mother where he'd sign it over to her and then she'd covertly pass it on to him, blah blah.
But none of this really matters. And I mean it doesn't matter because there's nothing I can do about it. There's not much I can do about any of this. The attorney general in Texas is nearly useless. There's basically nothing I can do except get better locks on my doors if Fran heads towards Texas. Which he won't, because I'm thinking he's sitting on a big bunch of money in Boston, enough to keep him in crack for a while.
But I'm so angry. Even though I'm trying to let it go.
Which means, I'm thinking, that I need to stop blogging about it.
Though I can't stop thinking about it.
Maybe I should throw myself into self-criticism. (Because that's always fun.) Okay. So... What the fuck is WRONG with me?
Dea's comment made me think way too much. Made me think and, you know, generally loathe myself.
Everything I've been doing for the last, idk, three or more years, has been geared towards totally changing myself. Changing all the useless, stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, contemptible things I saw in myself.
I wanted to be better. I wanted to transcend all the crap. I wanted to get smart and strong and independent. I wanted to stop basing my identity, my validity, on the reactions of others. I wanted, I really, really wanted, to stop thinking that people would only like me if they wanted to fuck me.
I knew I'd gotten old, I knew it was time to stop. I knew that even if I hadn't gotten old, it was time to stop. I knew that superficial outward physical attractiveness was shallow and useless and that it was pathetic of me to still want to be pretty, to still want people to think I was pretty.
Because what is pretty, anyway? Nothing but some artificial societal standard. Something useless.
And I thought I was getting better. All smarter. All more aware of stuff, aware of myself. And then I totally fuck up and basically ask people to validate, idk, SOMETHING. Validate something about me.
I'm so mad at myself. I'm so disappointed. I thought I was, I don't know, smarter or something.
***
You know, it's a good thing that I've basically isolated myself from any kind of social life. I can't obviously do social. Celibacy's the word for the sex I abstain from; what's the word for abstaining from any kind of social interaction?
There's got to be a word.
***
Crap. I think I'm having another crappy day...
Sorry you're having a crappy day. I'm baking a cake. I'll eat a piece for you. It will surely cheer me up.;)
Did I tell you that Johnny is unemployed again? He and Fran are on the same cycle.
Fucking Johnny. Fucking Fran. The best thing they could both do for their kids is die so they kids could get SSI.
Sigh...I don't know what to say. I don't think there's anything wrong with asking for validation if you want it. My comment wasn't about you asking at all. It was about explaining why I watched the video but didn't offer up comment. About MY level of discomfort with appearance validation. That doesn't mean I"m RIGHT. Just that I'm hung up on it.