Manic Monday
I firmly believe that Facebook should be a place to have a fun time, play games, chit chat, share photos, and keep up with your friends. I do not think it is a place to air your personal life grievances, complain about things considered TMI by many of your "friends", post vague references to your mood, or generally say things that you wouldn't want "out there". [EDIT: I just read this, and it looks like I'm putting too much emphasis on fun and not the purpose of updating. I am grateful for the posts from my friends who let me/us know what's happening in their lives, be it happy or sad. It is not meant to be judgmental or bitchy and I am not referencing any particular person included in my journal group.]
That said, I love Facebook. It's fun. I always look forward to what (most) everyone has to say. Just because you've friended someone doesn't necessarily mean that you know them. I would prefer to cut out some of the people I friended because I have no idea who they are other than by name and association with someone/something else. But I think it's rude.
I prefer to air out my laundry, dirty or not, here in a semi-private journal. I want to be able to share things with my real friends at their leisure and give them the option to peruse it rather than plaster it in a few sentences where everyone and their dog/cat/grandma can see it.
I came to a conclusion this morning. Fuck Leon. It's just something I have to accept is over. There are many times when I'm alone at night that I think about our long conversations and keeping up the pretenses that we would someday be together. And this whole non-closure thing has been eating at me for months. I have tried everything I can think of, and if that didn't work, then so be it.
I was ruminating so much last night that I thought I'd send him a video via email so that he could see how much I needed to talk with him. I got up, brushed my hair, put on a different shirt, set up my camera, and without really organizing my thoughts, began talking. Rambling was more like it. I restarted it a couple times before I got most of it out and then the memory stick was full - midsentence. I looked at it and realized that none of what I had to say was really that convincing after all. It was rather pathetic, actually.
I deleted what I had done, neatly put my camera back, turned off the lights, changed back into my jammies, and went to bed.
And this morning, I thought, "Fuck Leon."
So.....that's it. Closure or not, it's over. Moving on...
My kitty - who I have yet to consistently call Diablo due to its inability to roll gracefully off my tongue - is a holy terror. I exaggerate. He's adorable. He's a kitten. He gets on the counters 100 times a day - no exaggeration there - and I keep taking him down and redirecting him like I've seen done on Supernanny. He is like a toddler. Keep him busy and he'll keep out of trouble. However, even toddlers have a longer attention span than this guy. Since I started typing this, I've scolded him off the counter 8 times, thrown his squiggly toy into another room 5 times, and have given everyone a shot of catnip. He's flailing around like a crazed lunatic, while Dakota and Callie have politely nibbled at their piles and went back to staring at the new lunatic feline.
I plan on rambling every day on here. When you don't have daily contact with human beings face to face, it makes you a bit loco. When Sierra comes home on Fridays, she can't get me to shut up. I tell her all the mundane details and she looks unimpressed. She's busy with school and grades and (stupid) teachers and (bitchy) friends and such.
BUT....I am done feeling sorry for myself. I have read blogs of people who really have been dealt a bad hand. There is nothing going on in my life now that is devastating enough to warrant any self-pity or the pity of others. We all need support now and then to get through a bad day, but by and large, I have a great life. I need to remember that every day.
OK, I'm going to get back to having fun on Facebook and let my friends know to keep my journal in mind should they need any new reading material. Comments are always appreciated but never necessary.
I love to find inspiring, funny, relevant, and interpretive photos and post them, so here's one for today:
That said, I love Facebook. It's fun. I always look forward to what (most) everyone has to say. Just because you've friended someone doesn't necessarily mean that you know them. I would prefer to cut out some of the people I friended because I have no idea who they are other than by name and association with someone/something else. But I think it's rude.
I prefer to air out my laundry, dirty or not, here in a semi-private journal. I want to be able to share things with my real friends at their leisure and give them the option to peruse it rather than plaster it in a few sentences where everyone and their dog/cat/grandma can see it.
I came to a conclusion this morning. Fuck Leon. It's just something I have to accept is over. There are many times when I'm alone at night that I think about our long conversations and keeping up the pretenses that we would someday be together. And this whole non-closure thing has been eating at me for months. I have tried everything I can think of, and if that didn't work, then so be it.
I was ruminating so much last night that I thought I'd send him a video via email so that he could see how much I needed to talk with him. I got up, brushed my hair, put on a different shirt, set up my camera, and without really organizing my thoughts, began talking. Rambling was more like it. I restarted it a couple times before I got most of it out and then the memory stick was full - midsentence. I looked at it and realized that none of what I had to say was really that convincing after all. It was rather pathetic, actually.
I deleted what I had done, neatly put my camera back, turned off the lights, changed back into my jammies, and went to bed.
And this morning, I thought, "Fuck Leon."
So.....that's it. Closure or not, it's over. Moving on...
My kitty - who I have yet to consistently call Diablo due to its inability to roll gracefully off my tongue - is a holy terror. I exaggerate. He's adorable. He's a kitten. He gets on the counters 100 times a day - no exaggeration there - and I keep taking him down and redirecting him like I've seen done on Supernanny. He is like a toddler. Keep him busy and he'll keep out of trouble. However, even toddlers have a longer attention span than this guy. Since I started typing this, I've scolded him off the counter 8 times, thrown his squiggly toy into another room 5 times, and have given everyone a shot of catnip. He's flailing around like a crazed lunatic, while Dakota and Callie have politely nibbled at their piles and went back to staring at the new lunatic feline.
I plan on rambling every day on here. When you don't have daily contact with human beings face to face, it makes you a bit loco. When Sierra comes home on Fridays, she can't get me to shut up. I tell her all the mundane details and she looks unimpressed. She's busy with school and grades and (stupid) teachers and (bitchy) friends and such.
BUT....I am done feeling sorry for myself. I have read blogs of people who really have been dealt a bad hand. There is nothing going on in my life now that is devastating enough to warrant any self-pity or the pity of others. We all need support now and then to get through a bad day, but by and large, I have a great life. I need to remember that every day.
OK, I'm going to get back to having fun on Facebook and let my friends know to keep my journal in mind should they need any new reading material. Comments are always appreciated but never necessary.
I love to find inspiring, funny, relevant, and interpretive photos and post them, so here's one for today: