I seem to be shrinking.
When I was measured a couple of years ago, I was exactly 5'10". Yesterday, at my doctor's appointment, I was 5'8". I have lost two inches in about two years. I'm shrinking! At this rate, I'll be pocket-sized in no time at all... I'll have to update my hopping from key to key. Maybe I can train the cat to carry me around.
The doctor's appointment was pretty much all unpleasant. See, one of the uglier aspects of the whole divorce is the fact that, since Barry was lying and cheating, I have been put at risk, and I have to be tested for STDS and HIV. I'd like to think that I have nothing to worry about, but he told so many lies that now I can't believe anything he ever said. When we first started dating and had the big discussion about our romatic pasts, he told me he'd only slept with three other women. I was impressed, and I believed him -- until I realized that he'd only told me that after I told him I had only been with two other guys. (So I don't get lucky... ever. Hmmm.) I have learned, over the past few months, just how good he is at telling people just what they want to hear -- he is an expert at telling people just the right things to make himself look good. So for all I know, he slept with all the women in England before he moved here. I know the story of his ex-girlfriend wasn't convincing, and there was a woman he dated here before he met me... his explanation of that didn't make sense, either. (They were just friends, and one day she decided she wanted to marry him? Um, I don't buy it.) So I'm waiting now, for results I hope are good. I was so freaked out by the whole thing that I forgot to ask how long it would be until I got the results. Anybody know? I'm hoping they're good. It would be just like him, though, to leave me with one last thing, one more blow... and right now, I'm scared half to death.
Here's a pet peeve of mine: people who say they're going to do something, then blow you off completely. I'm trying to sell my bike. (Anybody want it? I got an email early last week from a guy who was interested, and wanted to stop by and look at it this weekend. I had planned to go to the Cape with my roommate, but I am so poor right now that selling the bike takes precedence over any other plans. So I told Beth I'd go with her next weekend, and told the guy to come by Sunday afternoon. He never showed. I was hoping that, when I got to work today, I would find an email from him, apologizing and giving me a damn good reason -- there was none. This afternoon, I got a breezy little note from him saying that he just had some stuff to do, so he decided not to stop by. Grrr.
So, rather than doing anything much interesting this weekend, I hung around the house. I did go out with Beth Friday night, to hear the Gladstones play at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge. It was a lot of fun -- Beth and I got dolled up (well, she did -- I actually combed my hair and put on lip gloss, which is about as much dolling up as I do) while dancing around the apartment to Lauryn Hill, and I met a lot of new people -- I am all about meeting new people right now. I got so isolated from friends over the last four years that I am very eager to meet new ones.
Saturday I loafed around in my pajamas until around 2, flirted with the idea of doing laundry, and played endless games of Mah Jongg on the computer instead. Watched TV, read, chatted on the phone... very dull, yes, but very nice. Sunday I actually managed to get dressed before noon (barely) and went and did laundry. I think I'm some sort of freak -- I like going to the laundromat. I like the dryer smells, I like watching my clothes tumble around in the washer, and I like being able to sit and read guilt-free, because I can't do anything else -- I have to wait for my clothes, after all. Then I went home to wait for Mr. No-Show, and for my grocery delivery, which was only slightly wrong this week. (They gave me pears instead of apples. I can deal. The week they forgot the ice cream, now, was a crisis.) Cleaned the catbox, loafed around, chatted on the phone, watched TV... it's a dull existence, but I don't mind.
I'm still working on being okay spending time by myself. Sure, given the choice I'd rather be with someone else -- my company isn't that exciting, after all. But I used to be very happy on my own -- in college, people looked at me funny because I would willingly eat in the dining hall alone -- just me and a book. I still tend to avoid eating with people at work, because I like having that hour of uninterrupted time. I have lost the knack for it, though -- when you live with someone, you tend to do that. (Pamie hit the nail right on the head today.) And I want to get it back -- I want to be comfortable with just me again. And now I'm off to make a grilled cheese.
Oh, and don't forget -- the notify list is now a discussion list. I'll try to ask questions for each entry, but I want you guys to post stuff too. Discuss amongst yourselves. Argue and stuff.
I just shouldn't watch reality TV. I get way too involved.
Lee probably hated watching Big Brother with me last night, because I kept yelling at the TV -- I was happy indeed that they kicked William off, because he annoyed me so much it made my head hurt. (And yet I watched it. Hmm.) Picking on people, starting fights, and intimidation are not good character traits. They aren't "keeping it real," as he was so fond of saying. It's not honestly, and it's not admirable, it's just bad manners. And yeah, the rest of the housemates are painfully boring most of the time, but I'd rather be bored watching them be nice to each other than watch one person pick fights with everyone else, just because he can.
There. I had amanaged to avoid discussing the reality TV trend up 'til now. I don't really watch Survivor -- I missed the first few shows, and haven't really gotten interested in it. The Real World sets my teeth on edge, and the weird editing effects on Road Rules make me seasick. Plus the cast members make me want to shriek.
After Big Brother (and my having to go outside and smoke a cigarette, because if I'd stayed inside listening to William for one more minute I would have thrown something at the TV, and I don't think Lee would have appreciated that), I went on home, intending to go to bed, and instead played with Beth's boyfriend's daughter for an hour or so. Kelley is three, very cute, very smart, and generally just a great little kid to have around. She has met me before, but was playing shy last night. The last time she was over, she spent most of the evening standing in the doorway peeking at my cat. Smoke doesn't like kids -- I think her previous owners had kids who mistreated her, so she generally hides when there are little ones around.
Last night, Kelley got over her shyness fairly quickly, and spent a great deal of time crawling around on my floor pretending to be a cat. (I used to do that when I was about her age. At least I know now that I'm not the only freak-kid to do that...) She would crawl around and meow, then stand up and tell me what the meowing meant. "Meow meow meow! That means come here!" "Meow meow! I found a bug!" "Meow Meow Meow! What are you doing?"
Once the novelty of being a cat wore off, she climbed up on my bed to chat -- she was very interested in the fact that I was going to go to bed, because I had to work the next day. She told me she didn't have to go to school yet, because she's only three. When I asked her how old she thought I was, she scrunched up her nose, pondered for a while, then said "A lot, a lot, a lot of years old." Heh. Thanks, there, kid. She asked me all about my plans for today, then told me to go to sleep, and ran off to find her dad. Way too cute.
I'm usually a little intimidated by kids. They're too unpredictable. I'm not good at making up games or stories, so kids lose interest in me pretty quickly. I do like them in small doses -- I sometimes miss my babysitting days, when I could spend just enough time playing with little kids, and then leave them with their parents. I babysat all through high school, generally for people my parents knew. Mostly they were good -- I spent a few long summer afternoons in a hammock with a four-year-old, who was enthralled with the game she'd made up: the hammock was a boat, the grass was the ocean, and she was watching for sharks. Basically, the game involved me snoozing, while she scanned the grass and yelled "Look out! A shark!" every few minutes. I also looked after two very sweet little boys every Wednesday after school for a year or so -- they loved being read to, and watching Sesame Street, and were eerily smart.
Of course, there were bad experiences -- the parents that let their kids beat each other up, play in traffic, and wander off alone because "it's God's will if anything happens to them," for example. Or the father who would hit on me every time he drove me home after I'd watched his kids. And I dealt with my share of tantrums and messes. But I enjoyed getting to spend time with kids, as long as I got to give them back to their parents.
It's like an infirmary around here today. Oliver's gone home with a bad cold (after wiping down everything he's touched with disinfectant) and I woke up with a raging stomachache. Not nausea or anything (bet you're glad I shared that!) but just enough pain to make me irritable and easily distracted. I've been exhausted the last couple of days -- waking up in the morning feeling less rested than when I went to bed the night before. I must be having odd dreams or something -- I don't remember any, but I wake up in the morning with the covers all pulled off the bed and the cat looking at me funny. (Speaking of odd dreams, I got a funny search hit yesterday -- someone did a Google search for "rotten teeth dreams" and got my site. Hee!)
I feel like I haven't updated in ages -- not since my dull day at work Saturday, I guess. Lee and I went to Amherst Sunday -- she used to live there, so we drove around, and she showed me where she used to live, and some of the UMass campus. We ate at a perfect barbecue place, and drove over to Northampton to get cannoli at a bakery she knows -- the best cannoli I've ever had. Including some that I got in the North End. Damn good. And evilly addictive.
I loved Amherst. It is, at the moment, top on my list of places to move to once I've gotten my degree. It reminded me of Vermont -- or rather, of all the good parts about Vermont. Lots of green space -- living in Chelsea is okay, but it's so crowded. I find myself really missing open spaces, trees, fields... and places with fewer people than animals. I spent my teen years surrounded by cows, after all.
Not much else to say, today -- I've gone completely Napster-happy on the computer I use on my breaks at work. Downloaded a lot of Blur, a lot of Radiohead, Foo Fighters, Pop Will Eat Itself, that Lo-Fidelity All Stars song that was all over the radio last summer, and some songs from CDs I wish I'd stolen from Barry... found an mp3 or Radiohead covering "Nobody Does It Better." Thom Yorke singing Carly Simon... but it's much, much better than it sounds. The trouble is, I keep wanting to listen to the songs I've downloaded on the T. I need a portable mp3 player, that's all there is to it... and you know, gifts are always welcome! (Kidding. Just kidding. Maybe...)
September 26 is D-Day. The divorce hearing will be at 9 a.m. It seems so far away right now -- I just want to get it all over with. From what I've heard, the hearing is no big deal. They just have you confirm when and where you were married, and that there is an irretrievable breakdown in the relationship, and that's that. It will be easy because we have no children, and no shared property. I wouldn't put it past Barry to try to make things harder, either by not showing up, or by making a fuss over the stuff I took -- even though he kept more that 3/4 of the things we owned. He was fighting me every step of the way for the few things I took. I hope he doesn't try anything like that -- I doubt that he can really do anything, since all the paperwork is filed and ready to go, and he would have to hire a lawyer. But I still wouldn't be much surprised.
It feels very strange having it all on paper -- it's beginning to feel real, now. Knowing the date when it will be over -- or at least close to over -- has cemented it in my mind. It feels good, because I'm relieved, but still... it's undescribably sad that it's come to this. I'm still having a hard time getting my head around the fact that, three months after we were married, he was dating someone else. We were still in the blissed-out honeymoon stage at that point. We spent a sickening amount of time talking about how we couldn't believe how happy the wedding had made us, especially since nothing had really changed -- we were living together before we got married, after all. I just don't get it. I mean, I can understand being attracted to someone else when you're in a relationship. What I can't fathom is how you could take that step, and get involved with someone else. Just sex is one thing. I could have understood, and possibly forgiven it, if he had just been having a fling. But the extent of the emotional relationship he had with her stuns me. Especially since he wasn't behaving any differently toward me -- the amount of lying, of covering up, must have been all-consuming for him. And I have to wonder what she was thinking when he told her she couldn't come to his apartment, and she couldn't call him at home, and they couldn't spend much time together... at first I wondered whether she knew he was married, but she must have. And I know he's hiding her from his friends and family now -- what could she possibly be thinking to put up with it? I know she was quite obsessive about him -- calling him four or five times during the night, just to see what he was doing (making sure he wasn't sleeping with me, most likely) and calling our house and hanging up over and over when he wasn't home and couldn't be reached on his cell phone... I witnessed that, since I was still living there at the time. So I guess she is just so needy, and so obsessed, that she'll put up with anything just to be with him. I don't understand that at all, either. I mean, I certainly put up with far too much -- at the risk of bitching, here are some examples:
I had to talk differently around him. He said he didn't like my voice, that it was a grating monotone, so I had to use this little baby voice when I spoke to him.
If I woke up earlier than he did on a Saturday or Sunday, he expected me to lie perfectly still, not get up, even to go to the bathroom, and not wake him up.
He also expected me to stay in the bathroom with him while he showered. I mean, I would do that sometimes on my own, but he wanted it all the time.
I had to give up all of my male friends, including Eric. I was able to make contact with him again, but there are some people I will likely never see again, because he was so jealous.
He once told me that if I got pregnant and didn't have an abortion, he would leave me. And I didn't slap him and walk out.
There's so much more, but I want to stop talking about it. I'm trying to sort out why, exactly, I bothered to stay for so long, when I was really very unhappy. I only realized how unhappy I was once I had moved out. I was almost giddy with relief.
The only thing I can figure is, I was so desperate for someone to want me that I was willing to stay with someone I really didn't like very much. I overlooked so many problems, because I was afraid if I admitted they were there, I would be alone again, and I didn't think I could face that. I'm happy to realize that I can face it, though it certainly isn't my first choice...
This entry seems to have written itself. I had a bunch of other (fun) stuff to write about. Ah, well. It will be over soon, don't worry. I'm getting to the point where I'm not thinking about it all the time, and that's good, because I can now think of better things to write about! And after the hearing, I am throwing myself a divorce party -- and you all are invited!
A random day... I'm all edgy and nervous. In a good way, though. Just for the hell of it, I posted a personal ad. I wanted to see what would happen... and I've been told it can be a real ego boost -- unless, of course, no one replies to it. That's kind of what I expected to happen, but this morning I had a dozen responses. Some of them were from people I have nothing in common with, a couple were from guys who just sounded sleazy (they made a point of saying how sensual they are... that makes me nervous) but a few were from guys who sounded pretty cool. Now I don't know what to do -- I've emailed a couple back, but part of me is thinking "Yikes!" Any suggestions?
I really am just a big wuss about meeting people. My automatic assumption is that they won't like me anyway -- I'm not attractive, or witty, or well-travelled, or anything terribly memorable at all. I generally just clam up completely when I meet someone, especially if I like them. Email is probably the best way for me to get to know someone -- I talk a lot more that way. My therapist (I just get a kick out of saying that) told me that personal ads were probably a good way for me to get started meeting new people, because it puts me more in control. It's also nerve-wracking... those of you who have had success with it -- how did you do it? How did you weed out the good ones from the not-so-good?
I got up the courage to hold Beth's boyfriend's pet snake last night -- it's a ball python. I don't mind snakes -- I am deathly afraid of spiders, and I hate bugs in almost all forms, but snakes have never bothered me. I have never really held one before. It's relatively small, for a python. It was cool -- it wrapped its lower half around my wrist, and sort of stood up and checked me out -- flicking its tongue over my arms and face, nuzzling at my hair a little, then looking around the room. It was a little unnerving feeling it gripping my wrist, and I did not like it when it started heading up my arm toward my neck, but other than that, it was interesting. When I talked to it, it stopped moving around and looked at me, as though it was listening. The cats were all far too interested in it, though. And I had to leave the room when Beth's boyfriend put a mouse in the tank for the snake's supper -- I know, I know, a snake's gotta eat, but I like mice, and I felt sorry for it. The snake wouldn't touch it though -- Beth says it hasn't eaten a mouse in the two months they have had it, but I prefer to think it was because I leaned over the tank and said, very firmly, "Don't eat that mouse! Leave that mouse alone!"
I'm in a very random sort of mood today. Mood swings from hell. Hyper one minute, fatigued the next. I think I just need more sleep.
I could curl up under my desk and just sleep for the rest of the day. I am that tired. I woke up this morning with a migraine (which explains the dream I'd been having, which involved getting shot in the head. That's all I remember of it -- it was very bloody and weird). Since we're shortstaffed (as usual) at work, I really didn't want to call in sick, so I did my best to get ready for work, in spite of the feeling that my head was just going to fall off at any moment.
My roommate and her boyfriend had some sort of fight this morning, which was apparently drowned out by my vomiting (sorry, but it was...) and, as I sat on my bed trying to get my brain to function long enough to get dressed, my roommate (Beth) came in to vent. (I really like that she does that -- it pleases me to know that she feels she can talk to me so readily, about anything. It can be unnerving sometimes, because she's the type of person who doesn't hold anything back, and accepts people immediately. I have a feeling she gets burned a lot because of it, but it's a nice trait to have, I think. And hey, I'm parenthesis-happy today!) Apparently she didn't notice my pallor, or the cold sweat running down my neck, because she talked steadily for about ten minutes before noticing that I didn't appear to be getting ready for work. I explained that I was sick, but didn't want to stay home, and she offered to drive me to Cambridge so that I wouldn't have to deal with taking the T. It was a good thing, too -- I'd hate to start some hapless commuter's morning by barfing in their lap. So I got to rest a bit longer, and got a leisurely, comfortable ride to work.
My head feels fine now, but I'm very spaced out -- everything seems slightly unreal to me. I feel like I've had two or three drinks, and everything is just a little hazy and out of focus. Much like this entry.
My therapist wanted to discuss my past relationships yesterday -- he asked some rather amusing questions about my feelings toward men in general (No, I do not hate men, no, I am not afraid of them, and no, I am most certainly not a lesbian. Hee!) and about my exes specifically. I think I bored him -- counting Barry, I've only really had three relationships, and Barry was the only really long-term one. The others lasted about six months each. He was very interested in my old college boyfriend, Eric -- who is the only ex I'm still friends with. Eric is probably my closest friend, and certainly one of the few people who know me really well. I tend to think he knows me better than anyone else -- better than I know myself. And he has told me that I know him better than anyone else, which is a nice thing to hear. Dr. Heller commented that "there must be some pretty strong glue" between Eric and I, something special that has kept us close in spite of our history, and in spite of the time and distance between us. Especially since we didn't see or speak to each other for four years -- and we were able to pick up the friendship right where we left off, with no awkwardness at all.
I'm not good at any kind of long-term relationship. I don't have any friends left from high school, and I have only two friends from college. I lose touch with people far too easily -- I realize one day that I haven't talked to so-and-so for months, and I don't even know how to contact them. That bothers me. I don't know if there's just something about me that puts people off, but, with the exception of a few people, I generally find myself in the position of keeping in touch with people. In college, I often wondered if anyone would notice if I just disappeared -- if I stopped coming to their shows, stopped calling them, stopped dropping by to see them. I toyed with the idea of experimenting with that -- I thought about not making the effort for a while, just to see what people might do. In the end, I chickened out, because I was afraid they wouldn't react at all -- they just wouldn't notice.
I don't really know where this is going. I guess I'm thinking how much I really respect and appreciate my friends now -- the ones who have made the effort, the ones who have called me, instead of waiting for me to call them. I'm not really very good at telling people how I feel about them -- I either can't find the words, or I say them at the most inappropriate times... but I hope I at least show people that I care. And I hope that's enough. I really don't want to lose any more friends.
So I'm on the bandwagon. I love, love Russell Crowe. I tell you, he will be mine.
I finally saw Gladiator with Lee the other night. She'd seen it once before, but as her love of Russell Crowe in his little leather skirt thing rivals my own, she was more than willing to see it again. On the whole, I really liked the movie. I hated the CGI stuff, though. The opening battle scene gave me a headache because it was so choppy and jerky -- I couldn't focus my eyes on what was happening, it was just a big loud choppy blur. I think maybe they were attempting to make it look deliberate -- you know, the chaos of battle and all -- but I just thought it was annoying. And don't even get me started on the damn tigers. They looked awful, for the most part. Some of them looked okay but -- beware of a potential spoiler here -- in that particular scene, why, when the actual fighting stop, did all the tigers stop moving? I mean, they were supposed to be these ferocious man-eaters, and during the dialogue, they just laid down and listened politely. And the guys holding the chains were still straining and struggling away... it just made me giggle. But other than that, I liked it. And I now plan to watch every Russell Crowe movie I can get my grubby little paws on.
I had other things to write about, but they're all depressing, so I'll tell you all about a particularly annoying thing that happened thins morning. I had just opened up, and was working alone, when these two loud guys came in. They wanted to use one particular type of computer -- the ones that use MIT's e-mail system. We have two of those terminals upstairs, and two downstairs. We also have a classroom full of them, but that room isn't available to the public. Anyway, the upstairs terminals weren't working, and the downstairs ones were in use, so the two guys asked to be let into the classroom. I explained that the room was available only for class use, and had to be reserved in advance. First they tried to bully me into it ("Is there somebody else we can ask? Is your supervisor here?"), and then they resorted to really juvenile tactics -- "Come on... I'll be your best friend!" (Um, that didn't work on me in the third grade, and it sure as hell doesn't work now.) "I'll buy you a cup of coffee if you let us in." And my favorite -- "How about if I have sex with you? Then will you let us in?" No kidding. It would have been bad enough if he had said it once and then stopped, but he said it three or four times, with his friend egging him on -- "I don't think she's buying it, dude, you better sweet-talk her some more." Now, I don't really know whether these guys just had no social skills whatsoever (news flash -- if the person you're talking to isn't laughing, the joke isn't funny.) or if they were hassling me because I was working alone, and female. My coworker thinks it was the latter -- and if that's the case, I'm extremely pissed off. I don't get offended easily, but this just put me on a slow burn for the rest of the morning. I mean, what did the guy expect me to say? "Oh, tee hee, you're such a stud, I'll just have to let you in!" Um, no.
My crankiness at that was compounded by the $#@%&! summer cold I'm coming down with, and by the fact that I have no plans at all for the weekend. I hate being at loose ends. I get bored and depressed. Well, maybe the Russell Crowe movie-fest will take my mind off it...
Happy Fourth of July, one day late. I'm all sleepy and sunburned -- sleepy because of the kids shooting off firecrackers in my neighborhood until the wee hours of the morning, and sunburned from the lovely swim in Patrick's mother's pool. Patrick's family has a great big cookout every Fourth, and Lee and I attended this year, along with Muppetgirl and Muppetbaby (so named in Patrick's journal -- I'm all about consistancy, here). Muppetbaby is the cutest child in the entire world. She's all happy, and energetic, and smart as hell. And way too much fun to watch.
The cookout really was nice, but I'm sure I was the resident party drag -- I've been in a funk for days now, and while watching all of the young, happy families play with their kids was nice, it was also more painful than I had expected. I mean, I know holidays are going to be rough for a while, but the Fourth of July?!? If I'm a weepy mess now, you're not going to want to be anywhere near me on Arbor Day, let me tell you.
I'm getting icky little premonitions of when I'm going to see Barry -- Monday I had to work late, and I knew, just knew, that I would see him on the bus on the way home. I was right -- just as the bus driver started to pull out of the station, Barry and his girlfriend hopped on. I try not to react, I really do -- but hearing them talking and giggling behind me made me want to jump off and walk home. And it's the sickest thing -- he treated me like dirt, lied to me, cheated on me... and I miss him. Someone please smack me upside the head? Thanks.
Anyway. Lee and I went to a bridge just outside of town to watch the Boston fireworks. Nobody had a radio, so we didn't get to hear the music -- they synchronize the fireworks to the Pops -- but we did have a good view of all but the ground stuff. I especially liked the ones that exploded in the shape of a happy face. How do they do that? Anybody know? I'm really curious -- it was just cool.