Stealth-mode Darcy
So I’ma preface this by saying that I’m not engaging in this post with the practicalities of Darcy’s involvement (and their inherent believability) or anything really to do with Lydia (which is not to say that I don’t think that Lydia’s involvement in this whole arc should run tandem to what it does in the novel, because it absolutely shouldn’t). That’s not what this post is about. You should go read basically everything Courtney Milan’s posted today for the ins and outs of how this particular part of the narrative strains credulity if it hews to “Darcy goes to London and gets shit done” part of the novel. I don’t want to get into that, though I do have very real concerns about how this part of the story is going to treat Lydia, but I’m less well-suited to talk about that than I am about Darcy. And I loves to talk about some Darcy. But I’m going to talk about why Darcy’s actions happen off screen behind a read more because this got a lot longer than I intended.
Egg donor
When I was 2 months old, my mother dropped me off at the babysitter’s house in Miami with a paper grocery bag full of my clothes and never came back. Daddy came and got me. He chased her up to Chicago, where her family lived. He loved her that much I guess.
My mother was very fond of my older sister, whom she had given birth to at the ripe age of 16, after her drug dealer boyfriend knocked her up and left her. My sister got all the praise. Even though I was much smarter, my mother always took her under her wing.
Daddy loved me to death. He always sang songs with me and played his guitar. We planted gardens together every year. He taught me the basics of caring for cars. We went to all the classic car shows. We were two peas.
I always got the feeling my mother resented me because I was so much like my father. I have his smile. His charm. His talent. His humor. His bullheadedness. She took my sister and left us a lot. Each time Daddy would go running after her. I have no idea why.
Right before my fourteenth birthday, I got a call in the principal’s office. There was a police officer waiting for me there. He took me to my mom’s office, where he showed me her car parked there. Locked. With a few envelopes on the front seat with our names on them. She didn’t contact me for 6 months, because she had moved to India to live with some man she met on the Internet. I hopped around from house to house. Stayed with a family friend. Stayed with a school friend. Finally my dad caught up to me and took me back home. I was afraid of him because when he drank, he got violent. And I knew that without my mother there, I was all that was left. (she waited until my then 19 yr old sister had moved out of course)
When I was 15, she showed up at my Daddy’s house with police officers. She told me if I didn’t go with her right then, she wasn’t coming back. I was so torn but I knew Daddy was too sick to deal with me.
It lasted 3 months. Days after 9/11/01, she left a note in our apt and was gone to India again.
Daddy always welcomed me back but his drinking had gotten so much worse. I cooked and cleaned for him until he found a girlfriend and went to visit her on the weekends. I was very focused on school, in all the honor’s classes. It was never enough for Daddy. He didn’t want me to end up miserable like him. So I busted my ass every day.
When I was 17, he found out I wasn’t a virgin anymore and kicked me out. Poor man. He did NOT know what to do with a teen girl.
I had to move up to Chicago to live with my mother for my senior year of high school. Promptly after I graduated, she moved to CA and married a man she met on the Internet. (the third one) When I got married, she loved my husband. Everyone did. When I became a widow, she “didn’t know what I wanted from her”. And when I started dating again, she “hated him. He has a cruel sense of humor and too many tattoos”. And when I finally told her about the time my brother-in-law raped me right before his wedding to my sister, she called me a liar and asked me why I would hold in that secret for 8 years. That was last April.
Today, a friend of mine called me and told me it was urgent that I call my mother. Apparently she is dying of lung cancer and didn’t want me to live my life with regrets. I calmly told her that I have no regrets. I asked her if she was ready to apologize. She replied, “I can’t think about all the bullshit that happened in the past” I said “it sounds to me like your pride is still more important to you than anything else.”
I just don’t have any sympathy for her.
Good riddance.
A description..
Everyone wants one for this love shit. What exactly is it, whats it feel like, how do you know when you have it, how do you keep it, how does it come to be, how does it die, can it be revived, etc. Fact of the matter is… no “case” of love is exactly the same, so when people ask as cliche as it sounds, the best way to answer seemingly is: “You’ll know when you found it”.
Best way I can put it is… everyone has experienced the burn and grind of life. Some feel it more than others. Admittedly, I haven’t always been the person I am now. I’ve had my bouts with certain demons but I made it through. However, through all that there was still an emptiness. A feeling of something I may have lost along the way, and no matter what I couldn’t figure out, nonetheless attempt to fill that void. I become use to this feeling of “Meh, whatever, that’s life,” in both good and bad situations. Not really giving a shit about much at all, you’d think that’s somewhat of a blessing? No, not really. Just like to be upset by something you have to care, to be happy about something you have to care as well. If you’re incapable of that, or just don’t want to care… how can you ever be happy. Sure, you may spare yourself some pain, but you also deny yourself some chances at happiness. Is that worth the sacrifice?
How does this all tie into love? The description? Well… that missing piece, the thing I had perhaps lost along the way? The feeling of when I met, got to know, got close to, started my relationship with, and the growth to this point with my fiancee, filled me with a certain feeling, something I couldn’t ever explain, but all I know is that void (which was a lot bigger than I care to ever get into) was now full. The worse in life doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with her, the best feels that much better. It’s like a drug, shit feels better, sounds better, everything is just better when under the influence of her love.
Brittany came into my life at a time where, if I wasn’t done with this bullshit “Caring” has to offer before, I was definitely done then, life itself went from “Whatever” to “Why bother?” She came in, didn’t even try, just was a friend, someone to talk to, listen, joke with, and it blew up from there. With the progression of time it just grew more and more and more, and all I know is I went from “Fuck it, whatever, why even bother” to feeling alive, and not only feeling alive but wanting to be alive, to experience all that life has to offer with her. I genuinely find happiness in making her happy. I can be in the worse of moods but her simple giggle, caring, soothing voice, and her saying “I love you, baby. Whats wrong?” and I’m fine again. To all the girls in my past? Yeah we may have had something that felt good at the time - but just her smile creates a feeling that feels 10 fold better than that, better than the best moment I’ve ever had in my past, alone, with someone else, whatever. Everything is better from just our random bullshit conversations, the jokes, to the affection the sex, our aspirations, our future, everything. So when people ask me for a description of love, instead of responding with some long drawn out shit like this (and this is me trying to be as brief as possible… which is impossible I keep going back and adding more) I just say:
“You’ll know it when you feel it/find it”
I'm Back!
During Thanksgiving Week, I left from Dallas to visit my family in Savannah, Georgia for the second time (but my first time since my mom moved there from Massachusetts this fall of 2011). Last time I was there, I spent the entire summer ar my aunt and uncle’s house with my cousin Manny and my mom and nephew were there for the first week, which was fun, but it gradually began to become more boring and I felt as if I over-stayed my welcome.This time I split the time at my mom and my aunt’s bout 40/60. I saw some old faces and met some new ones and this particular vacation was more than 200% better than the last. Everyone wanted me to move there along with my sister (who just moved there about a week ago) and I enjoyed myself so much and the people there that I actually considered it. So long story short, I loved my second vacation in Savannah, but returned back to Dallas to find out we no longer had internet, but as of today we do once again have internet access at home, therefore I’m Back!
You can’t do read more on mobile so the following is a post about how I’d like someone to share myself with and what I’d hope they’re interested in. So feel free to scroll past.
Okay so I just am really longing for someone to share myself with who also isn’t to eager to force ourselves in the confines of a conventional relationship by societies standards but still be mostly exclusive. If that makes sense at all. I just want someone to talk about shit with. Philosophy or bullshit or whatever word vomit happens. Joking. Someone who likes spending time with me and also kissing and other things. We could take pictures and draw and listen to Jawbreaker and Tera Melos and Anamanaguchi and we could ride bikes and go to shows and travel. Idk I just think it could be cool. Shit we could even cook and bake together and it would rule. We could play pokemon or just make out more. Who knows? We could argue the merits of different lightsaber forms like Makashi or Ataru and maybe like geek out on that shit. Mostly I want someone who likes me though. Who likes me liking them and wants to share in mutual likeness. But it’d be cool if you liked comics a.d animation too. At least quality tv like Megas XLR. I could go on but I won’t. PLZ LIKE KEN THE EAGLE OR LAND OF THE LOST OR STAR TREK PLZ.
USAA members....finally!
Well, you read the title, but also…let me tell you about insurance.
So, I just found out that my current insurance just went down by $40 starting next month, which also marks my renewal period. I’m usually not into throwing out figures, but in this case, what the hey?
So my insurance went from being $175 to $132 a month just for me…great, right? Yes…it is! But then, we just did an insurance quote on USAA for both Babe and I is $123/mo. Granted, that was with a one-time $30 internet discount included, but even without it, that’s still $150 for insurance for Babe and I and I think that is great also!
We decided not to get the insurance right now. Babe thinks it’s a little unnecessary because he doesn’t have a vehicle, but I think it’s good to go ahead and get it to cut down on the amount we’ll be charged for his lack thereof all this time and including his deployment, SO…..my plan is to just switch once Babe leaves. I think for now, I’ll use my extra money to save for a plan we have, and then once that gets handled, then I’ll just switch over.
Either way, we’ll still be opening bank accounts with them, and now this post is much longer than I ever expected, so I’m wrapping it up with one word….
YAY!!!!
Dear you,
yes another one, I do apologise.
I’m just writing to tell you I’m sick of writing ‘poems’ for you. It’s not like you’re going to read them. Not even if i ever let you see them. It’s been three days since you left and I actually can’t handle the finality of it all. I miss you so much I’m scared to sleep. I loll about in my bed trying desperately to think of other things. It’s the worst around 3am. that’s the time when i just want to drive to your house and climb through your window. But I know you won’t be there anymore. When I finally let my overtired mind drift off to sleep all I see is you in my dreams. You. It’s been three days since you left and three nights of vivid dreams of you. Can’t i even have my sleep to myself? Last night you were cleaning a beautiful house. You were dressed completely in white. I persuaded you away from your work just so I could taste your body for one last time. (Yes it was that sort of dream.) Afterwards, you told me you would feel strange with anyone else. I said at least it’s only for a year. And then I woke up. There were a few wonderful moments when the texture of the dream was so tangible on my skin that i believed it. I believed it was only for a year. I believed we had shared a proper goodbye. I half expected to roll over and see you there, sound asleep and naked, just like old times. But you weren’t and we didn’t and it isn’t. And then it wasn’t just the awful humidity pressing down on me making the air so thick it was difficult to breathe. You said it’s cold where you are. I think I could like the cold. Anything would be better than this emptiness. And talking to you through this screen is no good. I’ve never been good with words. I just need to reach out and touch you so maybe then you could understand how i feel. I’m sorry, this is long winded, I’m sorry i have nothing left to fill my time with other then writing these meaningless words to you. I’m sorry i fell harder for you than i ever expected too. We were only ever meant to be friends, after all. Just friends. It’s all fun and games until someone leaves the country, right? Three nights and counting. Well i’m sure you’ll still have fun and games. Goodnight or goodbye or whatever.
Love,
Me
Some thoughts on running
So in one of the versions of the Video meme from last night I talked a bit about how running is my least favorite and favorite form of excercise at the same time.
Take last nights run for example.
I didn’t want to run and lift weights last night. In fact I find myself very rarely excited to do both. I may need to just do two a days or something cause going into the gym knowing I am going to be there for the next hour and a half kinda frustrates me. I think I would almost rather run in the morning and lift in the evening. Running 4 miles and then going upstairs to lift heavy things, well simply put I am physically spent by the end of it.
Anyway, as I was saying I didn’t want to run, but by the end of it I was really into it. So much so that I put on AC/DC All Night Long and sprinted out the last 2 minutes. Increasing my speed every time the band got down. My final speed was something like 7:30/miles which is pretty fast for me, though I have been working to increase my overall race pace.
So, yeah before my runs I am like ugh, but after I am like YAY. In the end it is worth it =p
It's Like Déjà Vu All Over Again
Long story sans all the details: I stopped tumbling because, quite frankly, three months ago I was in a losing battle with depression. School only effectively exacerbated this.
I’m healthy now, though (or, at least, healthier). Such is the reason I’m blogging again. I’d like to think that as long as my medication works effectively, I’ll continue blogging, and continue feeling, as the English bloke Russel Brand puts it, “as clean as a whistle and as sharp as a thistle.” I also no longer attend classes intermittently, and instead have started going regularly. My grades have improved exponentially because of it, banal an act though it may be. I don’t, however, presume I’ll pull straight As again. I’ll most likely finish with four As and one B instead. I’m completely OK with this, though, especially when considering all that’s transpired these past few months. I’m excite, in other words. (I hate memes by the way.)
I also have a busy, albeit enjoyable summer ahead: I’ll be participating in two research experiments (and, if all things work out, three experiments). Rebecca Gomez — the researcher with whom I’ll be conducting one research experiment — and I will study the effects of sleep deprivation on cognition in infants. More specifically, we’ll be looking at the question of whether sleep facilitates good memory, and if lack of sleep prevents “reconsolidation.” That is, an infants ability to apply new experiences to previously-learned experiences. I’ll be researching with researcher Wulfila Gronenberg for the second study. We’re looking to find a correlation between brain structure and behavior in insects. Does, for instance, an insect with a seemingly small, physically-underdeveloped brain exhibit certain traits expectant in insects with larger, more labyrinthine brains? Questions like this will be the impetus behind much of our research. I plan on asking my honors advisor soon if I’d be able to fashion my honors thesis around one of the two research studies, assuming of course I develop an interest in one of the studies. We’ll see, I guess. Not being able to go home to visit family or friends seems to me the only downside. It’s especially disheartening for my mother. I tried mollifying her by saying I’ll come vist, but she ain’t havin’ none of it till she sees me in person.
That’s about it for now. Though I’m fairly certain few, if any, people will read my postings, thank you for reading this otherwise vacuous, vapid piece of mumbo jumbo anyway.
My thoughts on Harvey/Donna:
When she tells people that she doesn’t love Harvey, part of her, most of her, really means it. But she needs to convince them because she needs to convince herself too.
She really does love him, but like a brother. And sometimes more, but only when she thinks about the way things were then, and forgets about how things are much better now, how Harvey&Donna are an unstoppable force when there’s nothing but friendship between them. And when she forgets for a moment that he’s never going to be with her, not because she doesn’t deserve him. Any guy or girl would be lucky to be with her, especially Harvey Specter. No, because she can see that he’s already in love with someone else, and he’s either too stubborn to realize it, or too scared to do anything about it.
She can see it in the way Harvey looks at him. It’s the way she used to look at Harvey before she knew better. That’s why she’ll do anything to help Harvey get over Mike, whether it’s with Zoe, who she loves, or Scottie, who she doesn’t. As long as it isn’t with her, because she knows that’s just going to hurt.
So that’s why I don’t want Harvey and Donna together. Because maybe she has residual feelings for him, and recent episodes are making it really hard to pretend that she doesn’t, but she doesn’t need to be with him to be awesome, and she’s smart enough to know that.
People probably thought I was crazy
today when I stopped
in the middle of the parking lot
at the grocery store
and took in a deep long breath
of the world around me
and they probably thought I was crazy
when I spent longer than I want to admit scanning that parking lot
for the source of the sweet smell of cloves that had stopped me
so dead in my tracks.
I’m sure they thought I was crazy
but they didn’t know
that the smell of cloves reminds me
of the night I picked you up from the bar because you were too drunk to drive
for the third time
that week you spent trying to drown
the voices in your head
in dry martinis with extra olives.
I told you I wouldn’t pick you up again
but you knew that was a lie
so you handed the bartender my number
and ordered another and another
until my phone rang
and I almost decided
not to answer but in the end I did
because I knew I’d get to see you
and when I got there
you were sitting on the curb
with your make-up running
and a clove cigarette in your hand
because you knew how mad I got
when you smoked.
So you blew a long
deep breath of it in my face
and the sweet scent came with a look
that said I’m glad you’re here
but stay away from me
and I took them both
because I knew
that had given up the right
to tell you what to do a long time ago
when I gave you up to the voices in your head
so I took the look
and the smoke
and your hand
and the rest of you went
with me and my car back to your place where I walked you to a door
that you opened and shut in my face
without saying a word
about then or now
and I should have been insulted
but I wasn’t
because at that moment I was so angry
with myself for becoming
just another voice in your head
that I drove home
to drown the voices in mine
with a bottle of wine
that hadn’t got better with age
but was still good enough
to make me forget about you
and your voices
and your smoke
and your looks
until today in the parking lot
at the grocery store
when I caught the smell
of cloves on the wind
and stopped long enough
for the people around me
to think I was crazy
and you know what?
They’re probably right.
