I've been told it only hurts the first time.
Let's the face the facts: Now that I live alone, I need someone to talk to.
This is my first foray into the world of livejournaling. I plan on detailing my mundane life here, and probably bitching about work a lot. Think of the possibilities.
If I talk shit about you on here, it's probably because I'm not mature enough to talk to you face-to-face about whatever the issue may be.
Geez, I'm being more sarcastic than usual. I'm getting back to normal after the worst birthday in recent memory. (Those birthdays I can't remember, such as my second and third, probably weren't that bad, anyway.) Here's the condensed version of what happened. I had about 30 friends over to my new place for a party. Toward the end of the evening, I discovered that my iPod had been stolen. Then my ex, Michael, showed up with his new boyfriend, whose name is also Ryan. The fact that we share the same name is pertinent because Michael got us confused several times when he would call and send text messages. (I was stupid enough to trust that he was just a friend.) And then, the next morning - er, afternoon - I discovered a drink had been spilled inside of my laptop.
The first and last complaints are very middle-class, and do not signal the end of the world. If all of that is the worst that's happened to me lately, then I'm pretty fucking lucky. The problems have been resolved, for the most part. Shaun, who is the best friend a gal could have, gave me an extra iPod that some spoiled person gave him when they wanted a new one. I got my computer fixed and was happy to be writing a $470 check instead of a $2000 one for a new computer. And I didn't even lose any of my precious music and photos. The only way that the Michael situation has been resolved is that we had a long talk last week, and I pointed out all of the horrible things he did to me. I reminded myself that he was human. I discovered some of the ways in which I erred in the relationship, too. (Don't get me wrong, that bastard deserves most of the credit.)
It's a shame, because I was having a great time until the end of the party.
I blame that lying son of a bitch Johnson and that damn war in Vietnam.
This is my first foray into the world of livejournaling. I plan on detailing my mundane life here, and probably bitching about work a lot. Think of the possibilities.
If I talk shit about you on here, it's probably because I'm not mature enough to talk to you face-to-face about whatever the issue may be.
Geez, I'm being more sarcastic than usual. I'm getting back to normal after the worst birthday in recent memory. (Those birthdays I can't remember, such as my second and third, probably weren't that bad, anyway.) Here's the condensed version of what happened. I had about 30 friends over to my new place for a party. Toward the end of the evening, I discovered that my iPod had been stolen. Then my ex, Michael, showed up with his new boyfriend, whose name is also Ryan. The fact that we share the same name is pertinent because Michael got us confused several times when he would call and send text messages. (I was stupid enough to trust that he was just a friend.) And then, the next morning - er, afternoon - I discovered a drink had been spilled inside of my laptop.
The first and last complaints are very middle-class, and do not signal the end of the world. If all of that is the worst that's happened to me lately, then I'm pretty fucking lucky. The problems have been resolved, for the most part. Shaun, who is the best friend a gal could have, gave me an extra iPod that some spoiled person gave him when they wanted a new one. I got my computer fixed and was happy to be writing a $470 check instead of a $2000 one for a new computer. And I didn't even lose any of my precious music and photos. The only way that the Michael situation has been resolved is that we had a long talk last week, and I pointed out all of the horrible things he did to me. I reminded myself that he was human. I discovered some of the ways in which I erred in the relationship, too. (Don't get me wrong, that bastard deserves most of the credit.)
It's a shame, because I was having a great time until the end of the party.
I blame that lying son of a bitch Johnson and that damn war in Vietnam.