-The Alan Parsons Project
Well kids, it’s just shy of half way through January and, while I’ve really tried to work on a couple of the things I mentioned on the first, this is proving to be more difficult than I originally foresaw.
As you may or may not know, on the second of January, I went to visit Vanessa, in Ames. The first night was great. We did a bit of shopping at Sally’s Beauty Supply, the liquor store, and Hy-Vee. We had a few drinks and spent the evening watching Def Leppard dvds, and then looking at Def Leppard pictures on my flash drive. The rest of it kind of all runs together, but I believe the second night, we were watching Michael Jackson videos. We’d both been drinking, I forget how much, and we ended up getting into this big argument about it.
Now, she thinks he did all the child related shit he was accused of, and I don’t. She also has it in her head that he did something to his skin. Some powder on the black market that you put in your bathtub to bleach your skin. Now, I could be wrong, but it sounds like a whole lot of bs to me. Coupled with the fact that, I don’t think Michael Jackson was the real issue, but more on that later. I just got a little annoyed that, because she’s taken medical transcription classes, she thinks she’s got supreme knowledge of the skin disease that Michael Jackson had. Now. I might not have a medical background but I have done a bit of research on it on my own. She did have a point that you don’t get it all over, I’m saying I think he uses makeup to even his skin tone out. But whatever. That ended in her saying something like, at least she passed college, she didn’t flunk out three times.
But the next day was a bit better. Did some shopping. Might have been the day we went to Hot Topic. Can’t remember. Anyhoo. I spent too much there. Got a bunch of random earrings/nose rings, whatever, red sparkly nail polish, and purple fender guitar pick earrings and that all cost me forty bucks. I think I’m leaving something out but I can’t for the life of me remember what. The random earrings alone were 20.
We also rented some dvds, including the ‘Yellow Submarine’ Beatles movie. So that night we got drunk and watched it. It was a good movie, I enjoyed it, but through the entire movie, I had this “WTF” look on my face. It was very random. It’d be a lot to fun to watch on shrooms or lsd or something. xD Or high. I imagine it would be, anyway.
So, that next day wasn’t a whole lot of fun. I volunteered to go to the store for them to get some milk, and a couple of blank tapes (Vanessa wanted to tape Yellow Submarine, and I wanted to tape this Def Leppard dvd she’s got). I ended up using the last 7 dollars I had to my name to do that.
When I got back, I yelled “Honey, I’m home” when I walked in the door, just to be funny, but just about the first thing out of Vanessa’s mouth was “Can you ask us before you eat certain things?” and then launched into a whole speech that ended up making me feel guilty for eating some summer sausage and a can of tuna.
Okay, sure. I should have asked you beforehand. I give you that, but honestly, you can get a can of tuna for 50 cents at the store. Besides, with all the food and shit I brought, I thought I did my part. I brought two steaks, a half bag of chips, a can of pringles, a jar of salsa, candy, at least two things of Ramen, a box of macaroni and cheese, a package of ground turkey, I used most of the Casey’s gift cards I’d gotten for Christmas on buying pizza, I bought two bottles of vodka and two six packs of Hornsby’s hard cider and probably a couple other random things I’m forgetting… so making me feel guilty about eating something that doesn’t even add up to three dollars is a little insane. Just the vodka and the cider alone were worth almost forty dollars.
It wasn’t just that, though. Two of the nights I was there, two thirds of the people in the house had a big argument. This has happened the last two times I’ve stayed over which is making me think it has something to do with me.
Another thing that kinda irked me was.. Okay. A lot of people are under a lot of stress right now. Vanessa’s having trouble finding a job, since the clothing store she worked at closed down. Bills to pay. Frustration. So I can understand being worried and stressed about that, but I felt like she was taking it out on other people (myself, and her boyfriend). Quite frankly I felt like she was having to put me down to build herself up. Sure it sucks you can’t find a job, but always having to have it worse than me or having to always find some way to have it better than me wears down on me after a while. It’s not my goddam fault. And I don’t have it as bad as you, trust me, I know that, but I don’t have to be as bad or worse off than you to tell you to stay positive (the only times I really stay positive are when everyone else is feeling down, weirdly). I’m trying to help. Constantly talking down to me isn’t going to make me want to help out, and using trivial issues as a vessel for more serious shit you want to say or do isn’t going to help.
I was a bit nervous about putting this here because of the people who read it, but it’s not like I’m giving out the secret recipe for like, Bush’s baked beans or something. It’s my damn blog. I’ll write what I want. I don’t hate her or anything, I’m just frustrated. After all, though, we don’ t have very many fights. We barely get into arguments at all. Sometimes I wish we had small fights more often so they wouldn’t balloon up and explode like that.
Over all I had fun, though.
Now that that’s over with. Work has been work. When I’ve gotten to come in, and work has actually been open, that is. Although I just about killed the twit I work with again on Friday. Staying at Vanessa’s meant sleeping on a not very comfortable couch which was all fine and dandy until either the day I got home or the day after, my back started hurting really bad. I’m thinking it’s just because I had to contort myself in all kinds of weird positions on the couch at Vanessa’s. But for about three days, I was hobbled over, absolutely no way to sit, lay down, or do anything felt comfortable, and at a couple of points I considered making a doctor’s appointment, because it was starting to get to the level of pain I was having when I hurt my back working at Heartland Inn two summers ago.
I told you that to tell you this. Friday was the first day I’d been able to walk in a completely upright position, and sit at the table or computer or anywhere without having to shift my weight every ten seconds. I wanted to leave work early because I didn’t want to hurt my back again on the first day in four days that it had been feeling somewhat better. Of course the twit wouldn’t have that. What the manager chick told him was that someone could leave. What he told me was that the manager chick told him HE could leave.
Which is all well and good. I need the money. I also can’t afford to hurt my back again and have to pay for the doctor visit and the muscle relaxant I’d be prescribed.
Whatever, though. Lastnight was better, even though he was still being a tool. I left early, but stayed at the bar to have a few.
Lastnight was one of those, why bother, I’m a bit depressed kind of nights over all. I mean, I had some great laughs with a couple of the cooks that work there, and I wish that kind of euphoric humor could last all night. It was basically another night spent wishing I could think of something intelligent to say. Another night spent wishing that I had the guts to go up and dance, and move the way music makes me want to move. Something in my brain is holding me back from doing a lot of the things I want to do. I want to get up and dance weirdly and not care who sees. I want to have intelligent conversations with people and not worry about what they’ll think of me. I want to not feel so put down by all these gorgeous women that come into the bar. On that note there were a LOT of them. All too drunk to care about how slutty their dancing looked and how much it made me suddenly want to play a very violent video game or kill a cute furry animal or something.
This brings me to the “women worry about the dumbest shit” bit of my previous blog. This is either an insane way to think, or all females are idiots because they think that way. Why do we get so jealous? Was it weird to wish that all the other females in the bar were really ugly so I’d feel better about how I looked? Did I even really need to ask? xP
Because that’s insane. Everyone doesn’t have to be ugly for me to feel good about myself. And I thought I did. I wore a new shirt and jewelry I liked, so I felt good in what I was wearing, and I was hoping that sort of confidence would rub off on people so to speak. It was more of that goddam sit around and wait for people to talk to you, so they don’t type of shit. It’s really frustrating, but it seems I’m unable to do anything about it, because that seems to be the only thing I bitch about in here any more.
Last night was fun, but I’m going to be concentrating on saving up to move out so I can perhaps afford to get some counseling on my social anxiety (I don’t care if there’s no official diagnosis, I’m about 200% sure I have some form of it that includes social paranoia).
As I mentioned earlier this entry, I am trying to work on the issues I said I was going to, and I suppose I shouldn’t feel too discouraged. After all, it’s not like all my resolutions were magically going to happen right away. It’s going to be a continual effort through the year. So we’ll see if anything has changed by next year.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go have some french toast, play some MapleStory, and try to enjoy my Sunday and quit worrying about stupid shit (for now anyway).