Where in the world is...
I think those five words will remind me of watching Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? as long as I live. It's amusing, perhaps even a tad embarrassing, that I used to watch Ghost Writer and the PBS kid show Aurthur when I was in high school. Although, Aurthur did teach me how to spell "Aardvark", which is an equally silly word.
I'm sitting here with a splitting headache, trying desperately to not let myself lay down, for fear I'll fall asleep. Sleep is incredible, I actually would like it very much so at present. However, I don't think my roommate would like being stuck at Best Buy all night when I don't show up to bring him home from work. Not that I really mind if he gets upset with me for it, I just honestly don't feel like dealing with the internal guilt that will inevitably consume me in the morning.
It has been quite a few months since I have even tried to write anything. I've been too consumed with the silly idiosyncrasies that make a woman up. In all honesty, my life isn't going the way I had hoped it would be by now, mainly due to my lack of ambition and working towards my goals. I happen to find a great many activities fun enough in which to partake, yet I have found myself at a stand still for much of the past year. The great lower-middle class condition, always feeling like you're too broke to buy what you really want or need, but slowly letting all your money bleed out of you one small purchase at a time until you are, in-fact, flat broke. It doesn't help that I share my income with a one stop shop convenient store junkie that almost seems to insist on buying his food spur of the moment, and at higher prices than buying in a bit more of a bulk fashion. A shared income with a man that wants nothing more to do with me than ..... even I don't know what the hell he wants. Most of the time I suppose it is platonic friendship that he looks for me to provide. Other times it seems like he'd be happier if I were a distant memory, surviving for him only in his most tucked away of nightmares.
Of course, I've long since discovered that I am internally too hard on myself. You'd know what I meant if you were me, but since you are not, I guess you'll just have to think I'm insane, which, oddly enough, is the practice of the general census. .... Mmmm.. pounding.
Where was I?
Yes, the boy. I don't have a problem with this particular boy not wanting me. It's not about that at all, though I admit it does hurt quite a bit when he does things like introducing me in public as "roommate". I'm certain he does this so that people don't have to ask him later if I'm his girl, heaven forbid he'd be caught making any sort of romantic commitment to a troll like myself, I suppose. The way I ended that sentence is actually more of an indicator to what I'm getting at though. It's not so much being rejected that bothers me, as does the fact that it is an action that reflects on how I personally feel about myself. I have a very real love<->hate relationship with myself. Anyone acting towards me in a way that reminds me that I'm not even so much as working hard towards changing those little, nagging imperfections breaks right through my facade of the happy go lucky girl that is bubbling over with self-love.
In turn I get so down on myself that my depression turns to anger, disgust, and bitterness. Not at the world so much as at myself. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand most of the general population, but mostly as a whole. I think if I opened myself up to meeting each person individually, I'd actually find more to like about the race, and, sadly, I'd likely find more to dis-like as well.
I get upset when he flirts with other women because I wish I felt like I was worthy to be getting his attention. I don't like when he starts getting more involved with a particular woman, like Lou or CJ, because I've envied other women for so long that I mistakingly end up feeling like I'm supposed to be more like other women.
Partly I know my anger and depression comes from the fact that I've never been the girl that got the attention... ever. Even in the four years I dated Jason, from day one there was always another girl. Let's face it, I was the at home pussy. The pussy that was only slightly good enough to tag as your alternative to not being able to find someone you're actually attracted to to nail that night. Looking back on it now, I'm actually pretty embarrassed that I didn't see it back then. I put so much of myself on the line for him, hoping that someday he would suddenly wake up and realize I was his dream girl.. or something.
... I think unhappy past relationships do a lot of damage to women, and that it explains a lot of our craziness. Men don't understand, when you're a woman you're always thinking about that relationship. Always. It never stops. Even when you're dead set to never be involved with another person in that way, even when you don't believe in relationships or marriage.... secretly we're all just looking for someone that will make us feel like we're the one they can't live without. Like seeing us for the first time was like taking your first breath after being stuck under water for minutes at a time. Like a once blind person peeling back their eyelids for the first time that morning to realize they can finally see.
Yeah, we're that narcissistic. Is it the media? Is it Disney? Is it every little girl growing up with an already emotionally damaged mother? Is it insecurity? Is it just the nature of the nurturer?
I'm not sure. I am positive though that us women have to be incredibly strong to overcome not only what we are told we are supposed to be, but even more so, what we tell ourselves that we have to be. No one is harder on themselves than a woman. The thinner the woman, the more she's concerned about being thin. The fatter the woman, the more she's concerned about her weight. Sounds the same, right? Not even close. Anymore it seems like the thin women are the only ones willing to get thin.
So what's the point of all this? It's not that I'm wishing he would swoop me up in his arms and profess his undying love for me. It's not that I'm only friends with him because I have some false hope that it will turn romantic. I don't want anything from him. I am just a self-loathing woman who lacks the ambition to change any little thing she doesn't like about her body or self-image, who always convinces herself that she doesn't have enough money to buy the nice things she'd like, and who beats herself up constantly over it.
I am every woman, truly.
What do women want? Attention. To feel loved. To feel worthwhile to someone. I believe this is why we see so many stunning women with geek-a-zoid guys. In the end, men, it's not always that she wouldn't go for you, or that she's 'out of your league'. A lot of the time women are first come, first served.
As for me, I just want to not feel the pressure of this world anymore. I want to enjoy myself.. enjoy my life... enjoy being me. So what do I know that all the other women like me haven't seemed to catch on to yet?
The only thing stopping me...... is me.
I'm sitting here with a splitting headache, trying desperately to not let myself lay down, for fear I'll fall asleep. Sleep is incredible, I actually would like it very much so at present. However, I don't think my roommate would like being stuck at Best Buy all night when I don't show up to bring him home from work. Not that I really mind if he gets upset with me for it, I just honestly don't feel like dealing with the internal guilt that will inevitably consume me in the morning.
It has been quite a few months since I have even tried to write anything. I've been too consumed with the silly idiosyncrasies that make a woman up. In all honesty, my life isn't going the way I had hoped it would be by now, mainly due to my lack of ambition and working towards my goals. I happen to find a great many activities fun enough in which to partake, yet I have found myself at a stand still for much of the past year. The great lower-middle class condition, always feeling like you're too broke to buy what you really want or need, but slowly letting all your money bleed out of you one small purchase at a time until you are, in-fact, flat broke. It doesn't help that I share my income with a one stop shop convenient store junkie that almost seems to insist on buying his food spur of the moment, and at higher prices than buying in a bit more of a bulk fashion. A shared income with a man that wants nothing more to do with me than ..... even I don't know what the hell he wants. Most of the time I suppose it is platonic friendship that he looks for me to provide. Other times it seems like he'd be happier if I were a distant memory, surviving for him only in his most tucked away of nightmares.
Of course, I've long since discovered that I am internally too hard on myself. You'd know what I meant if you were me, but since you are not, I guess you'll just have to think I'm insane, which, oddly enough, is the practice of the general census. .... Mmmm.. pounding.
Where was I?
Yes, the boy. I don't have a problem with this particular boy not wanting me. It's not about that at all, though I admit it does hurt quite a bit when he does things like introducing me in public as "roommate". I'm certain he does this so that people don't have to ask him later if I'm his girl, heaven forbid he'd be caught making any sort of romantic commitment to a troll like myself, I suppose. The way I ended that sentence is actually more of an indicator to what I'm getting at though. It's not so much being rejected that bothers me, as does the fact that it is an action that reflects on how I personally feel about myself. I have a very real love<->hate relationship with myself. Anyone acting towards me in a way that reminds me that I'm not even so much as working hard towards changing those little, nagging imperfections breaks right through my facade of the happy go lucky girl that is bubbling over with self-love.
In turn I get so down on myself that my depression turns to anger, disgust, and bitterness. Not at the world so much as at myself. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand most of the general population, but mostly as a whole. I think if I opened myself up to meeting each person individually, I'd actually find more to like about the race, and, sadly, I'd likely find more to dis-like as well.
I get upset when he flirts with other women because I wish I felt like I was worthy to be getting his attention. I don't like when he starts getting more involved with a particular woman, like Lou or CJ, because I've envied other women for so long that I mistakingly end up feeling like I'm supposed to be more like other women.
Partly I know my anger and depression comes from the fact that I've never been the girl that got the attention... ever. Even in the four years I dated Jason, from day one there was always another girl. Let's face it, I was the at home pussy. The pussy that was only slightly good enough to tag as your alternative to not being able to find someone you're actually attracted to to nail that night. Looking back on it now, I'm actually pretty embarrassed that I didn't see it back then. I put so much of myself on the line for him, hoping that someday he would suddenly wake up and realize I was his dream girl.. or something.
... I think unhappy past relationships do a lot of damage to women, and that it explains a lot of our craziness. Men don't understand, when you're a woman you're always thinking about that relationship. Always. It never stops. Even when you're dead set to never be involved with another person in that way, even when you don't believe in relationships or marriage.... secretly we're all just looking for someone that will make us feel like we're the one they can't live without. Like seeing us for the first time was like taking your first breath after being stuck under water for minutes at a time. Like a once blind person peeling back their eyelids for the first time that morning to realize they can finally see.
Yeah, we're that narcissistic. Is it the media? Is it Disney? Is it every little girl growing up with an already emotionally damaged mother? Is it insecurity? Is it just the nature of the nurturer?
I'm not sure. I am positive though that us women have to be incredibly strong to overcome not only what we are told we are supposed to be, but even more so, what we tell ourselves that we have to be. No one is harder on themselves than a woman. The thinner the woman, the more she's concerned about being thin. The fatter the woman, the more she's concerned about her weight. Sounds the same, right? Not even close. Anymore it seems like the thin women are the only ones willing to get thin.
So what's the point of all this? It's not that I'm wishing he would swoop me up in his arms and profess his undying love for me. It's not that I'm only friends with him because I have some false hope that it will turn romantic. I don't want anything from him. I am just a self-loathing woman who lacks the ambition to change any little thing she doesn't like about her body or self-image, who always convinces herself that she doesn't have enough money to buy the nice things she'd like, and who beats herself up constantly over it.
I am every woman, truly.
What do women want? Attention. To feel loved. To feel worthwhile to someone. I believe this is why we see so many stunning women with geek-a-zoid guys. In the end, men, it's not always that she wouldn't go for you, or that she's 'out of your league'. A lot of the time women are first come, first served.
As for me, I just want to not feel the pressure of this world anymore. I want to enjoy myself.. enjoy my life... enjoy being me. So what do I know that all the other women like me haven't seemed to catch on to yet?
The only thing stopping me...... is me.