I found out this morning I actually have a boyfriend, now. An official title. I've never had a boyfriend before. He told me he loves me, that I make him happy, that I'm pretty, that he's lucky to have me in his life. And this afternoon he found out that his grandfather is refusing traetment at the hospital in favor of home hospice. So the day I got a boyfriend is the day his papa (which warms my heart coming out of his mouth, because papas are a very special thing. I should know. I lost mine in 2005) has decided to go home and die comfortably.
The point is, I love the idea of having a boyfriend. I love being in love with this guy. And I am. I fell for him pretty hard, pretty fast. I love the feeling of importance. I love that he notices little things about me that I wasn't really aware of before. I hated leaving him to go to work today. I hated seeing him hurt. I hated knowing how he felt and not knowing for sure at the same time. And all of a sudden I think I may actually understand the difference between a fuck buddy and a boyfriend. And that's it. The only difference is that wanting to make them as happy as they make you. Maybe this is that mother-children love thing I don't get either. That "i-feel-pain-when-you-feel-pain" feeling. Weird. More about this later.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
I can't go, I'm a horrible friend.
Actually I'm a horrible employee, and I will lose my job if I leave early today. Son of a bitch. I'll be out in early March. I promise.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Portland
Ah, I'm torn. (And I'm not apologizing for not having posted for nearly a month; deal with it. I've been really busy, and now I'm posting at work to waste time, further solidifying my fear that I will not pass my final exam and I will be looking for a new job next month)
In recent news I received an eviction notice in the mail, but I'm ignoring it, because my landlord was too stupid to send it with a receipt, and I have to move out within three days of receiving it, and I never did, to her knowledge, so ha. I'm glad i just recorded that in print, because now she knows i got it, if she ever found my weblog, which she won't. Anyway. I've sent in my 30-day notice with a veiled threat to report her to the housing authority for the mold problem, the leaky ceiling, the fact that she sent people in to knock holes in my walls and hasn't had them fixed for over a year now, and for my apartment always smelling like pot and I can't have any. Fucking jobs. The people above and below me smoke out all the time and since I have holes between my bedroom and both stoner apartments, I have to deal with that shit all the time and that really messes with your ability to abstain, right? I guess that last one is probably not such a good argument to take to the authorities, but still.
So I'm slowly packing up all my shit and trying to move into the apartment across the street, since I hate moving if I have to use a vehicle. It blows.
Also, hey, I've been dating a guy for almost a month now, which is weird. I still don't refer to him as my boyfriend, but he kind of is, I guess. Or at least my friends say he is. I never really understood the difference between a monogamous fuck friend and a boyfriend, so I'm not necessarily a good one to ask. I don't introduce him to people as my boyfriend, and he doesn't call me his girlfriend, so that may be an indicator.
Just in case you're wondering, I'm not going to say anything about maybe going to Portland this weekend, because nothing's set in stone. I kinda have to figure out this eviction thing first. Shit. But I may be in Portland on Saturday afternoon. I certainly hope so. I need money, though. Shit. Grrrr. (Insert a whole string of expletives here. I'm sure you can imagine.) I hate rent. Not so much the musical and only a little bit the movie, but a whole lot the actual paying of a landlord for the ability to have a leaky roof over my head.
Yes, Adam, there is a Santa Claus...I mean, I do understand. I miss both parts of you. And K-La, I miss you like bleeding from my eyes. (Not I miss you like I miss bleeding from my eyes, which is not at all. I mean missing you feels like bleeding from my eyes. I need to know when you'll be back on this side of the country, 'cause I get two weeks vaykayshun. And I need to see you. Hopefully I'll see Adam on Saturday. Adam, what are you doing on Saturday?)
In recent news I received an eviction notice in the mail, but I'm ignoring it, because my landlord was too stupid to send it with a receipt, and I have to move out within three days of receiving it, and I never did, to her knowledge, so ha. I'm glad i just recorded that in print, because now she knows i got it, if she ever found my weblog, which she won't. Anyway. I've sent in my 30-day notice with a veiled threat to report her to the housing authority for the mold problem, the leaky ceiling, the fact that she sent people in to knock holes in my walls and hasn't had them fixed for over a year now, and for my apartment always smelling like pot and I can't have any. Fucking jobs. The people above and below me smoke out all the time and since I have holes between my bedroom and both stoner apartments, I have to deal with that shit all the time and that really messes with your ability to abstain, right? I guess that last one is probably not such a good argument to take to the authorities, but still.
So I'm slowly packing up all my shit and trying to move into the apartment across the street, since I hate moving if I have to use a vehicle. It blows.
Also, hey, I've been dating a guy for almost a month now, which is weird. I still don't refer to him as my boyfriend, but he kind of is, I guess. Or at least my friends say he is. I never really understood the difference between a monogamous fuck friend and a boyfriend, so I'm not necessarily a good one to ask. I don't introduce him to people as my boyfriend, and he doesn't call me his girlfriend, so that may be an indicator.
Just in case you're wondering, I'm not going to say anything about maybe going to Portland this weekend, because nothing's set in stone. I kinda have to figure out this eviction thing first. Shit. But I may be in Portland on Saturday afternoon. I certainly hope so. I need money, though. Shit. Grrrr. (Insert a whole string of expletives here. I'm sure you can imagine.) I hate rent. Not so much the musical and only a little bit the movie, but a whole lot the actual paying of a landlord for the ability to have a leaky roof over my head.
Yes, Adam, there is a Santa Claus...I mean, I do understand. I miss both parts of you. And K-La, I miss you like bleeding from my eyes. (Not I miss you like I miss bleeding from my eyes, which is not at all. I mean missing you feels like bleeding from my eyes. I need to know when you'll be back on this side of the country, 'cause I get two weeks vaykayshun. And I need to see you. Hopefully I'll see Adam on Saturday. Adam, what are you doing on Saturday?)
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