Every song seems a remembrance of love lost, old hurts inflicted and suffered, things painful.

I must be nearing that time of the month.

My room is a mess. But there is hope of escape.

I hope I don't screw this one up. I need to learn self-control. I need to learn to forget everything upsetting me. I need to learn to move on from my life for 2 hours this coming Thursday night.

If I can do that, and if I can win through, I will truly have succeeded, and I will truly have moved on. And I can begin to rebuild my life again.

Because I'm stagnating here. I've moved the furniture around. I've tried to learn to ignore the noise from downstairs and the next room over.

But I'm still sitting in the chair he slept in the first time he spent the night in this house. I'm staring at the same walls I woke up to with him in my arms.

I'm drowning in my own regrets and memories and hurt feelings and disappointments.

All I need to do is get out, and have something to occupy myself with. If I can do that, then I have won. Then I will have the tools to come back into myself, and remake myself into the person I used to like.

Hopefully Thursday night's interview will solve that. A full-time job, with benefits. The chance to move out of the house. The chance to be able to pay off the bills that have been piling up and that I have been trying to ignore.

Of course, every job interview I have walked into with confidence so far has been met with failure. Time to learn from the mistakes of the past, and make this one a success.

I need a little success in my life right now. I'm starting to feel like I really am a failure at this whole life thing.

Knock on wood for me. If anyone actually is reading this crappy log. I doubt it.

February 14, 2005

Everyone else and their mothers have something to say about this holiday, so I suppose I should throw in my input, too. Or whatever.

For the first time in four years, I don't have a valentine. Not that I've ever actually been with said valentine, whomever he was, on this specific day, but this time I don't have someone to bitch about all the other couples everywhere, to tell that I miss, to secretly wish was doing something with me today, just like everyone else. Last year, I stipulated that my boyfriend call me only twice in the entire year I was in New York -- I would call him every other time, because I had free long distance on my cell phone, so his calling me was a big deal, because it was relatively expensive -- and today, Valentine's Day, was one of those days. Why? I'm not sure. Our anniversary, which was not one of the stipulated days, was more important to me. I wasn't even really conscious for his phone call, as I had gone out drinking the night before with friends; if I was conscious, I was hanging my head over the toilet, puking. Not romantic at all, but the hangover did, if I recall correctly, keep me from having to go out and face the sappy dappy couples. It gave me a chance to miss my boyfriend in the comfort and isolation of my own apartment in the big city.

This year I am, again, missing Eric. But for different reasons. Both times, of course, were my fault -- last year, I had chosen to go 2,500 miles away to school, schooling that I never completed and which left me $42,000 in debt with not even a diploma to show for it. This year, it's because of my choices from last year. Choices that have turned me into someone (or something, perhaps) that he could no longer love. Someone that I'm not even sure I like, myself.

This is hard. It's Valentine's Day, and I can't even love myself. The past six months have been one blow after another -- having to come back from New York, spending months looking for a job, getting something at $10 an hour, getting fired from said job, leaving me broke from Christmas shopping, getting dumped and shut out by someone that I thought -- and still think -- of as my soulmate. Finding a new job is difficult, I've been too-sick-to-leave-bed for two of the last three weeks. It's a downward spiral, and for once I'm finding it hard to climb out.

So how is this whine-fest a comment on Valentine's Day? It's not, not really. Today is just another reason to feel like a pathetic loser, a waste of human flesh. Today is just another jab to the stomach, another reminder that I've let myself go to the point where the world is letting go of me in return.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't gone to New York. More times, I wish I were still there.

And all the time, I wish I hadn't made the mistakes I did. I wish I still had a Valentine. Even without the cards, the candy, the flowers, the stuff I never got anyway and didn't care about, because I had the person instead.

I'm done being depressing for the moment. A bit about why things aren't updated, if you care:

It turns out that while I can format the text in these blog boxes with html tags, I cannot use all html tags -- most specifically for my purposes, the img tag. This means I cannot just make up a mini-webpage that will show up in the text window. This means I have to figure out an alternative; either I redo the website in HTML, with little Flash goodies here and there (a strong possibility, but it means I get to play less with Flash), or I do more research and figure out an alternative. I think there is something I can do, involving the "loadMovie" Actionscript command, but I need to find the time and the motivation to learn all of that. So we will see. In the meantime, I don't really have any music or pictures or finished objects to show off, so in the end it's a good thing.

As for a feedback form, I'd need to either get some CGI script to load into my free geocities server, or learn to write it for myself. So since time and motivation are somewhat lacking (see above, re: Flash), you can just send me an email by clicking on my little snakie button. It's a cute snakie button, that flickers its tongue when you click on it. Give it a try. Send me an email. Make me feel somewhat special, or insult me for being such a retard. Whatever floats your boat. You don't have to see me cry.

I think that's it for now. Happy fucking Valentine's Day.

February 4, 2005

New beginnings. I'm a little late on it with this one; It's half a week into February, not really close to the Chinese New Year, if I were aiming for that, and still over a month off my birthday, which is my usual self-centered universal year-to-year date. And, obviously, I'm over a month late for the generally-accepted date of January 1.

There may be reasons for this. I'm not quite sure what they are. I needed time to recover, I suppose, from what the holiday season threw at me, at how much I lost, how much could be said I have "gained." And, of course, I needed time to plot this new site out. To decide just what skills I would be practicing. To figure out just what more I needed to learn.

A few of the buttons, of course, won't lead to anything with any real content. Not yet, at least. Give me time (I'm recovering from a bad case of the flu), give me a chance to build up confidence in what I've got to show.

Why would I want to start up another blog? Those who know me know how much my last web journal cost me in terms of happiness. I'm sure it cost me more than even I realize, but I'm not brave enough (yet?) to ask the pertinent people (well, person) about that. There's still a lot of questions unasked and unanswered. Small chance that they will be the first, and an even smaller chance that they will be the second.

But my reasons ... well, I always was a sort of exhibitionist. I cry freely in public (though embarassedly). I wrote about my burgeoning sex life in my college newspaper with pride. Why not fully expose myself -- my reasonings, my feelings, my deepest desires -- here in a public forum where all can read and judge me for themselves? I need public judgment. I need public approval, I guess. I know better than that, but it's hard to overcome my desires when I've never had to before.

For the record, and for those who don't know me: I'm fairly selfish. I try to be generous, when I can afford it. I hate being stingy with money, but have no problem being stingy with compliments. It's not because I'm a hard person to please; it's because I just don't think about it. It's ticked a couple people off before, my thoughtlessness. I try not to be a snob, but I have difficultly seeing beyond the little world that is me me me. Hopefully this blog will chart my change towards a more thoughtful, sensitive, caring person. Or perhaps it will just describe my downward spiral into someone completely unlikeable and undeserving.

We shall see.

Thanks for visiting. I'll see if I can invent a comment submission form. Otherwise, please feel free to click on the snakie button in the lower right of the screen to shoot me an email. I'll appreciate it, I promise.

--Sarah