So Confused. I think I'm Going Crazy. Let's talk about Brooklyn
I've thought about everything much too long and over and over all day long for the past few weeks since I'm now apparently a jeweler and have time to think of annoying and upsetting subjects:
In some ways I think that I was born identical to my Mother. Her relationships with people are strange because even when everything in the world is wrong she'll believe that it's right and perfect and continue to do the dishes, wash and dry the laundry, fix meals for her entire family, babysit her grand-daughter, and play nurse to her mother-in-law, while serving doting and devoted duties to her husband. Mind you, all of this is done with a wooooonderful bitter and sarcastic ass sense of humor. I want to believe everything is fine sometimes when there are clearly problems. Of course I get upset more than most people. . . . but I continue to pretend what I want to believe that I know will make me happy. Per se, I kept convincing myself that I would talk to Jeff again and everything would be sunshine and roses fine the next week, the week after that, the week after that probably from around last March up to the end of the summer before I moved out to New York, which honestly was my saving grace from that whole nightmare. Or I have the faint hope of a small child that not all men in the world are complete deuche bags and will one day proove me wrong. There are good men out there. I think. Which makes me not want to believe that I was lied to over something that is of a very personal context, because I want to believe that there is a hope of there being at least 'a' good man out there. Plus, it would have to take great depths to go through with such a lie in essence and just too much effort to cause so much pain for one person. I can't believe that all people are good and tell the truth. But I'm internally fighting over the possibilities of people that I care about and trust beyond comprehension doing it to me. My proof of the matter was that his American phone number was given away to some snotty ass bitch that answered my impromptu phone call and scared the holy bejeezus out of me. Ingrid was frigtened. FRIGHTENED! And we HATE HATE girl with Phill's old phone number or Phill's cell phone . . . . But after a few phone calls and realizing that it was a different voice mail system and a person with a brand new number. . . . I realized that maybe probably maybe he really is in England? Huh. Anyway, I'm a Libra and live by the book of honesty and virtue. And if anything sets my alarm off I go virtually nuts because there is nothing more painful for me to face than deceivement. I'm so full of doubt and in pain. Forget this part of the article. Let's talk about BROOKLYN!
Anywho, I'm living together with Erin now in Brooklyn. It's both exciting and confusing. Brooklyn is confusing. Though our apartment is kind of funny as well. The living room couch is my old air matress and that is about all of our furniture so far. I enjoy the corner bagel store. I don't enjoy our neighbors that frequently like to play Latino music into the wee hours of the morning on weekends, which apparently also includes Sunday sometimes. . . . or Thursday basketball rituals. Ingrid HATES Latino music. Some of the bars aren't too weird, but there is more exploring to be done eventually. There is supposedly an ice arena in Prospect Park. The movie theatre in Prospect Park is hillarious. The conffetti carpeting reminds me of shit you'd see on the floors in an old school Razmatazz. Which is almost exactly like Chuck E Cheese and I haven't been to one since I was about four or five somewhere in New Jersey. The seats are almost neon purple though and the movie screen is about the size of a giant wide screen television. It's kind of ridiculously wonderful. Someone take me to Disney World. I need to be happy again. Why am I five?! Where's my sippee cup? I miss Jake. :(
-Edit: I am excited about seeing 'Rent' for the first time in a few weeks. Yay!
In some ways I think that I was born identical to my Mother. Her relationships with people are strange because even when everything in the world is wrong she'll believe that it's right and perfect and continue to do the dishes, wash and dry the laundry, fix meals for her entire family, babysit her grand-daughter, and play nurse to her mother-in-law, while serving doting and devoted duties to her husband. Mind you, all of this is done with a wooooonderful bitter and sarcastic ass sense of humor. I want to believe everything is fine sometimes when there are clearly problems. Of course I get upset more than most people. . . . but I continue to pretend what I want to believe that I know will make me happy. Per se, I kept convincing myself that I would talk to Jeff again and everything would be sunshine and roses fine the next week, the week after that, the week after that probably from around last March up to the end of the summer before I moved out to New York, which honestly was my saving grace from that whole nightmare. Or I have the faint hope of a small child that not all men in the world are complete deuche bags and will one day proove me wrong. There are good men out there. I think. Which makes me not want to believe that I was lied to over something that is of a very personal context, because I want to believe that there is a hope of there being at least 'a' good man out there. Plus, it would have to take great depths to go through with such a lie in essence and just too much effort to cause so much pain for one person. I can't believe that all people are good and tell the truth. But I'm internally fighting over the possibilities of people that I care about and trust beyond comprehension doing it to me. My proof of the matter was that his American phone number was given away to some snotty ass bitch that answered my impromptu phone call and scared the holy bejeezus out of me. Ingrid was frigtened. FRIGHTENED! And we HATE HATE girl with Phill's old phone number or Phill's cell phone . . . . But after a few phone calls and realizing that it was a different voice mail system and a person with a brand new number. . . . I realized that maybe probably maybe he really is in England? Huh. Anyway, I'm a Libra and live by the book of honesty and virtue. And if anything sets my alarm off I go virtually nuts because there is nothing more painful for me to face than deceivement. I'm so full of doubt and in pain. Forget this part of the article. Let's talk about BROOKLYN!
Anywho, I'm living together with Erin now in Brooklyn. It's both exciting and confusing. Brooklyn is confusing. Though our apartment is kind of funny as well. The living room couch is my old air matress and that is about all of our furniture so far. I enjoy the corner bagel store. I don't enjoy our neighbors that frequently like to play Latino music into the wee hours of the morning on weekends, which apparently also includes Sunday sometimes. . . . or Thursday basketball rituals. Ingrid HATES Latino music. Some of the bars aren't too weird, but there is more exploring to be done eventually. There is supposedly an ice arena in Prospect Park. The movie theatre in Prospect Park is hillarious. The conffetti carpeting reminds me of shit you'd see on the floors in an old school Razmatazz. Which is almost exactly like Chuck E Cheese and I haven't been to one since I was about four or five somewhere in New Jersey. The seats are almost neon purple though and the movie screen is about the size of a giant wide screen television. It's kind of ridiculously wonderful. Someone take me to Disney World. I need to be happy again. Why am I five?! Where's my sippee cup? I miss Jake. :(
-Edit: I am excited about seeing 'Rent' for the first time in a few weeks. Yay!