If anyone's playing the home game... I've reached eleven. Remember how I had that New Year's Resolution that 2002 was going to be the year of no relationships and making out with lots of boys? And then I set myself a goal of making out with twelve boys in 2002? Because I'd had a boyfriend almost continuously (and often two or three boyfriends) since I was fifteen and it was fucking time to be single already? Remember all of that?
Right. Well, I'm the girl who's still talking about her New Year's Resolutions in November. This was supposed to be how this whole thing ended, but instead, it's the flaky beginning because I just had enormous revelation about myself and it's timely. Not pleasant or anything, but it's eating at me. So, I'll get through what I intended for this to be about first....
Several times in the last few days I have been asked if I am headed toward a relationship with WriterGuy (he's the one with whom I spent that whole weekend...) I am hesitant to answer the question when my good friends bring it up, so I really don't know if I can begin to answer it on the internet. Because we haven't come anywhere near discussing it. I don't know the answer. Too soon to tell. Maybe.
But I am beginning to wonder if I am going to settle for stopping at eleven. I don't know for sure. I have been assured that kissing eleven boys in a year is a very respectable showing and if I stall out now there's no shame in it. And I agree. I won't be upset if I only make it to eleven. I honestly only thought I'd hit six, so whatever. Eleven is good.
But, this might be the first real goal I've had since I was twelve years old. I can't think of any off hand. Not a real, long term goal. This is so sad. Obviously, I need to work on that. I need a plan.
I've been really in the "I need a plan" mode for a few days now. I found this poem from my 'carnation sister' (I think it's okay if I call her my 'big sis' these days) from sorority land. Please bear in mind that she's one of the top five most amazing people I've ever had the pleasure to know. I'm not very confident that she has flaws. She might have one. But not plural. She's brilliant, funny, sweet, fun, hard working, beautiful, etc. Think of a good word you can use for a person. It probably applies to her.
Okay, so the poem and the letter that went with it were in an old text book. It was all about the importance of enjoying the journey, but remembering to always keep your goals in mind. So, then I thought about my goals (I'm unemployed and impoverished. I have time to contemplate my goals.).... And I really haven't had any in a long ass time. I don't have a plan. I don't have a goal. My last long term goal (that I stuck to and actually was passionate about and tried to accomplish) was formed at the age of eight and accomplished at the age of twelve.
[brace yourselves kids, this is about to get really fucking serious and mellow-dramatic and confessional. go look somewhere else if you want funny or lighthearted. the funny is finished for this entry.]
I know what went down when I stopped making goals. I know what went down when I stopped eating.
I don't want to tell you all my whole stupid sob story. It's four o'clock in the morning and I don't feel like typing it and I'm not very sure I want to publish it on the internet anyway. Anyway, suffice it to say I have been harassed in one form or another by someone for ten years.
And I developed a little "problem with food" (that's how my mother says it) over it. Typical control issue crap. When I feel vulnerable, basically I switch from eating to snacking. I'll consume one or two meal-like snacks per day. Until I notice my hair falling out or something. That's a pretty fundamental wake-up call. If I weren't so damned vain about my hair, I might starve to death. Sad, but true.
Okay, so, the whole stupid ugly thing reared its head again not that long ago, and I finally took some action and everything is going to be fine and I am going to get better. Really.
Except that I am sitting here crying because I realized that I haven't had a plan for my life, I haven't bothered to figure out what I want to do with myself beyond two months from now (aside from not bouncing any checks and kissing lots of boys) since this all began.
I am going to try to figure some of this out. I am going to be more conscious about my life. I haven't even really considered what I want to do with myself. Not even just a little bit. I mean, I've discovered that I really like to write. That's about as far as I have gotten with considering myself beyond the level you see here on this blog. Really. I intend to do more on that front. To at least consider the future. To allow myself to think I have one.
While we're on depressing news... something has to give with my financial situation. I know that nothing is more boring than hearing other people talk about money, but I'm poor. After I paid my rent for December, I'm really fucking poor. I have a roof over my head until January 1. I think if I'm careful I'll be okay through the trip. I know I'll have some money by the time I get home. Really, I'm only absurdly poor until I get home. And I have got to find a job. But I am going to be absurdly poor through the trip. I'd like to not come home essentially penniless, but if I do, so be it.
To recap, I have been stunted as human being for the last ten years by a situation I took no control over until like two months ago and I'm very poor and I can now forsee failing (but not in a depressing way) on the two things I set out to accomplish this year... Yep, that's a fit tally for four am.