The title's unnecessary

I wrote this poem after listening to some pissed off chick music. This includes some Alanis Morrisette, Amy Winehouse, and a bunch of others. Please don't read it and think that I've survived some terrible relationship. All of mine have been relatively tame with the usual cause for heartbreak, not abuse. I wrote it because I felt like writing something vengeful and if I had been in an abusive relationship, I'd like to think that this would be my big "Fuck You" before I peaced out.

Enjoy.



Tell me I won't leave, that I don't have a chance
Do you believe me now without the weakness behind my glance?
Tell me that I can't do any better and I'll prove you wrong,
Push me against the wall and beat me with your words; I've already heard this song.
Flashes of you on top of me, staring into your black eyes and your cold heart,
You are the one thing in my life that I wish I would have never let start.
Grip my neck and choke it out of me, do you want to know all of my lies?
Let's start with fucking you disgusted me and how I hate having you between my thighs.
It kills you to see me walk away, having lost so many battles but I'm the victor of this war,
I see your anger peak as you realize that you'll never be able again to treat me like your whore.


PS-I am no longer feeling like I'm going to have a panic attack, so that is the good news.

I'm drowning

Today I looked at my school's course schedule for the Summer and Fall 2009 terms. Since my second semester of freshmen year, I have either taken 18-19 credit hours per semester, and during four of these semesters, I have had to complete an honors contract in four courses that is a requirement to be in the honor society of which I am a part of. Honors contracts mean doing 10% more work than the average student, but sometimes teachers have a hard time gauging what is an appropriate amount of extra work.

I'm saying all this because I'm about three seconds away from having a full on panic attack. Next year will be my senior year of college and I am struggling to work out a plan that will allow me to graduate next May. As far as I can tell, thanks to the many general education requirements that my liberal arts school has, I will need to take 9 credit hours this summer so that I don't overwhelm myself while I do my first round of student teaching in the fall. 9 credit hours during the summer translates to roughly $4,050; $450 per credit hour. Add in an extra $200 because two of the classes are online and about another $200 for books and I'm looking at being forced to take out a $4,600 loan for the fucking summer. Not to mention my already existing loans, which last time I checked will render me at least $42,000 in debt (including interest) by the time I graduate. Oh, but I get a six month grace period before I have to start making payments...how generous of the loan company.

I'm flipping out. The economy sucks, I probably won't have an college experience related job prospects in the education field when I graduate, meaning that I'll be living in my parents' house, trying to put every penny I earn towards paying off my student loans because I don't want to get married or have kids before I can get my loans paid off. The way it looks now, if I pay 6% of my loan each month (roughly $2500) (This is me assuming that I can get a job that will pay at least $38,000 annually) then I will be able to pay off my loan in 15-16 months......but realistically that won't happen at all.

I've never felt so much pressure about something that I can't control in my life. I can't help that my parents didn't save money for my college. I can't help that I got sick during high school and my grades weren't stellar, thus reducing my academic scholarships from my school. I can't help that my school doesn't look at academic scholarships on a yearly basis, thus making my college grades insignificant in regards to financial aid rewards.

I feel like I'm being strangled by the real world and that this feeling is what impending adulthood will be all about. I've never felt so broke, helpless, and unstable. My car won't start, I have to find a summer job dealing with teaching/watching kids so that I can write that on my resume next year, I have to pass my content test with flying colors so I don't have to pay another $100 to take the fucker again in a few months. The list could go on, but I don't really want it to. Oh, and I'm not getting any action. Awesome. I want to go to sleep and wake up 18 again and just starting college without a care in the world. I want to wake up with someone that can support me financially, emotionally, and physically. I want to wake up to something different. And I'm trying really hard not to turn back to cutting to help me ease the stress.

Even I can't make this funny

I just got back from a wake that was for a friend's mom. She was only 49 years old and left behind three children. I'm not particularly close with this girl, but I've known her for three years and have worked with her on the RA staff this past year, so I felt like I should go to the wake, even if it was briefly, to at least show her some support and express my condolences-which I'll admit came out better when I wrote them in the card than when I tried to express them verbally.

The only people close to me that have ever died have been above the age of 65, so I can't say that I can relate to someone who lost a loved one that was taken too early. The friend's mom finally succumbed to multiple illnesses, the last of which was lymphoma, after being sick for quite sometime, so I suppose it was not sudden, but it still doesn't ease the pain of losing your mother at 49.

The hardest part at the wake was looking at my friend's dad, watching him stoically greet guests as he stood near his wife's coffin. He embraced each person that greeted him like he was hugging a long lost friend. It really moved me and I was surprised by my emotions. I watched him the entire time I was there, thinking how difficult it must be to see your two daughters who look exactly like your wife and how hard it must be to try to stay strong from them and your son, who is about to be married. He would periodically glance at his wife's lifeless body laid out before family and friends and this truly broke my heart. The love that they must have shared was so obvious that it filled the room and was clearly shown in his eyes.

Then I thought about all that my friend's mother would be missing. Her eldest daughter's college graduation, her youngest daughter's high school graduation, her only son being married, and the countless other moments that will occur in their lives without their mother being at their side to support them, comfort them, embrace them.

My mind drifted as I tried not to think about my mom or dad passing away, but it was inevitable in this environment I suppose. I thanked God that my parents are relatively healthy, besides being fucking chimneys, and I prayed that they would be around for a long time to come.

I never know how to respond to hearing that someone's relative or friend died. I do genuinely feel sympathetic, but I have no idea how to express it. I don't know what's appropriate or what's inappropriate, so sometimes I awkwardly hug the person, pat them on the back, and just say the generic "I'm sorry for your loss, let me know if you need anything." Honestly, when my grandma died a few years ago, I hated when people told me, "Let me know if you need anything." What the fuck am I going to need that you can offer me? Some booze? Some money? How about my grandma back for another 15-20 years? It's so fucking generic, but we all say it, and I suppose a good percentage of us mean it. Still, I can't compare the experience of losing a grandparent to a mother, no matter how close I was with my grandma, it just isn't the same.

My friend held up very well during the time I was at the wake. Obviously the family knew it was coming for some time, but how can the death of your mother at only 49 years old not be shocking in some manner? She didn't cry that I saw, she smiled, she held a baby, she thanked her friends for coming, she graciously accepted cards and flowers. She went through the motions so well that I felt like it was going to be very hard for her later when there aren't motions to take or hundreds of people around, watching your every move, thinking that you're going to fall and being humbled by your strength.

I cry the hardest when I'm alone and I feel like she will, too. There's nothing I can say to make any of it better or less tragic, so all I can do is keep the family in my thoughts and prayers and hope that their memories of their mom and wife will keep them comforted for the rest of their lives.

It happens

I'm wasted. Again. On a Tuesday night....with classes at 10am tomorrow. Fuck. My boss, the one who is the sole reason why I applied to be an RA is leaving....we just found out tonight at our staff meeting. Rocker isn't taking my calls apparently. Funny how he never answers when I call him, but he can always call me with me answering. SOmething is weird there. Maybe I should assume that he has a girlfriend....fuck it. I called my cousin who goes to school in Indianapolis and talked to one of his friends there who told me he wanted to fuck the shit out of me (which i would not oppose). I don't want to go to bed alone...why must I go to bed alone and unsatisfied? I ask for so little and maybe that's why I receive just as much as I ask for..

Another One Bites the Dust

This past Friday, I got a call from one of my guy friends at school. I knew what it meant as soon as I saw his name pop up on my caller ID; he had proposed to his girlfriend and they are now engaged. This is the third time this past year that some of my closest friends have gotten engaged, including four out of the 8 or so of my closest friends at my entire school. To someone who is single, it seems kind of intimidating. I'm without a doubt not ready to do something like get engaged at this point in my life, but it makes me question how they are so sure they want to marry this person. Sometimes I wonder if their relationships will continue as well as they are going now when they get into the real world and face real problems like bills, where to live, working full-time, dealing with each other's families, and even just planning the wedding itself. It's pretty easy to maintain a relationship with someone when you go to the same school and have the same friends and get to do all the fun college things together without having many concerns in regards to the relationship. Obviously you're both loyal to each other because at a smaller school like mine, one would find out rather quickly if their significant other was cheating. Here, the couples spend pretty much 24/7 together except for differing class schedules. They eat together, sleep together, hang out with different friends together, sometimes even shower together.

Saying all that makes me feel somewhat claustrophobic, I mean fuck...take two seconds away from each other for Christ's sake. In relationships like these, can you really love someone like that without losing who you are? I consider myself to be pretty independent, as much as a 21 year old college student can be, but when I am in a relationship that is meaningful, I give a lot of myself to that person. However, I never feel like I lose myself when I'm with that other person and the thought of that kind of disgusts me. I'm a big fan of "me" time and I let that be known in a relationship. I can't fucking think if you're always around me and that makes me crabby, which would make me irrationally bitchy to you. It makes me feel itchy thinking about it, but maybe I'm just a little cold-hearted for that, "I can't stand being a second without you" bullshit. When I spend more than a day with someone I start to lose my mind, which is why I was never good at those weekend slumber parties that little girls have where you spend Friday night to Sunday morning at someone's house. It was never for me. I like my own space, my own bed, my own time to think about whatever fucking nonsense I want to think about, and my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want to do.

I guess I'm a big contradiction though because even as I write this, I'm a little pissed at Rocker. He's been kind of distant the past couple days, and it's not like he hasn't called or anything, but it's little things. I haven't gotten a goodnight text in a few days or a good morning text either, which he usually does both on a daily basis. It's not even that I necessarily miss him doing these things, it's just that when it has become such a routine, it makes me wonder why he has broken that routine. Hello, trust issues, welcome to the party. Oh, daddy cheating on mommy, come right in and join the psychoanalysis of such goofy thoughts. Ah, piss.

ugh oh

I'm drinking....alone. And I'm halfway drunk. Does this mean I have a problem or can this be chalked up to beinga 21 year old college student who has the ability to buy booze?

hmmmmmm.

spelling=good while being drunk. impressive.

My little rocker is all grown up

If you have been following my recent posts, you're probably aware that Rocker, my funny little Rocker, is a little hesitant about talking dirty. Now and again, he'll text me dirty little messages, usually "I wanna kiss you and lick you all over," and I'll have to use my imagination for what that entails because he doesn't go into specifics. Earlier this week he sent me a text that said "I want you," so I asked him to explain. His reply? "I want to rub you all over..your neck, your breasts..." Yeah, he really said breasts, which is about as sexy as my grandma doing a lap dance.

"Breasts? You need to dirty up your dirty talk, mister," I replied. I had gone into the cafeteria for dinner and had sat down with my friends when I Rocker called me. I told him that I was at dinner and I couldn't really talk, and he replied, "So I can say whatever I want to you right now and there's nothing you could do about it?" Yep. "I wanna eat your pussy out and make you cum," He said. I did an audio double-take if that's even possible and I smiled. My little Rocker has finally used his big boy words when it comes to talking dirty.

Earlier today he called me while he was in his office and I had just gotten out of a meeting. I heard someone cough and asked what the noise was and he said that it was someone in his office, so I joked that now I could say what I wanted and that he couldn't do anything about it. He laughed and told me that he liked the text that I sent him the previous night which said "I want to taste your cock and watch you watch me as you cum in my mouth." He told me that it had given him a hard-on at the bar where he was moonlighting. I kinda laughed and asked if his co-worker was still in the room because I was pretty sure he shouldn't have said that if he was. He told me that the guy had left and continued his dirty talking. "I wanna lick your pussy and get you really turned on before I stick my hard cock in you." I was a little taken aback by this, but enjoyed it nonetheless. He kept going, "I wanna be on top of you, fucking you missionary style before I make you switch positions and hit it from behind." By this point, I was getting really turned on. I mean it doesn't take a lot of work to turn me on, but knowing that a few weeks ago he had been so innocent in his dirty talking and now hearing him tell me how he wants to fuck me, it was so hot. He told me that I was going to be wearing heels and a skirt for him and I just kinda laughed that he had planned out this whole scenario, which admittedly made me feel good because I know he's been giving me a lot of thought then.

All of this made me think of how I first started really liking someone talking dirty to me. It goes back to my first serious boyfriend, who had moved about 7 hours away and the only way we could be intimate was through phone sex. I remember the first time I had phone sex, I was 14, my family was gone for the afternoon, and I was laying in my bed, talking to my boyfriend. He started giving me kisses through the phone, which tickled my ear and made me wet. I had masturbated many times before this, so I slid my free hand down into my shorts and start slowly rubbing my clit. A small moan escaped my lips and he asked what I was doing. I didn't know what to say and I felt embarrassed that he'd caught me. I tried to talk around it, but he kept pressing it, so finally I said I was rubbing myself. "Where," he asked?

"You know where," was my innocent response. I could hear the smile through the phone and he told me that he didn't know, to please tell him. After about 5 minutes of him asked me to tell him, I finally broke down and told him that I was rubbing my clit. He told me that he was hard, and this began my first experience with phone sex.

This boyfriend was particularly talkative with phone sex, I don't know how he could continue to constantly talk through the entire time, but he did. I don't remember doing much of the talking at all unless he asked me to, but most of the time the only response he'd want from me was to moan louder, to tell him how much I wanted his cock.

Since then, I've gotten progressively dirtier with sexting or phone sex. I'll say cunt, fuck me, pound my pussy, cum on my tits, etc, etc. It's just more fun than saying things like, "I want to make sensual love to you," or, "I want to feel your penis getting erect in my hand." I think I would piss myself laughing if I ever said something like that, but to each his own.

The whole dirty talking thing made me think about if a large percentage of people my age engage in it. I don't mean sexting, because I'm pretty sure everyone does that, if only drunkenly. I mean real phone sex, masturbating while you're talking to someone else who is masturbating. I don't mean calling up a number and hearing some husky-voiced smoker choke her way though a dialogue that seems like it came out of a cheap, 1980s porno. I mean real, from the heart (or genitals) dirty talk. Do people feel uncomfortable doing it? Do people who are pretty open sexually, at least in the act of sex, have trouble verbalizing their sexual desires? I could go on forever in a post like this, but I truly do think about these things. I think there most be some sociological part of my brain that twists normal question about human sexuality into convoluted Freudian theories about how people think about sex and aspects of sex.

Maybe I'm in the wrong major. Maybe instead of education and history I should major in sex. I mean, who's to say I couldn't be the next Dr. Sue from "Talk Sex with Sue"?

Only $91?!

Friday afternoon I went home for a doctor's appointment since I have not been able to hear out of my right ear for a week now. Long story short, I had a bad sinus infection and it somehow went to my ear and it's all fucked up. I have ear drops, so don't worry. Although I was pissed when I called to make an appointment with my primary care doctor and told her that I couldn't hear and she said, "What?" Uh..are you mocking me or what?

Deafness aside, I had told my eleven year old sister that I would take her shopping that afternoon since I couldn't afford a birthday present in January when her birthday is. Lucky me I got my student loan refund back and I'm stimulating the fuck out of the economy with it. I needed to run to the mall for a few things anyway and my little sister had an early release day at school, so we grabbed some quick lunch and went to the mall. I asked what store she would like to go to for her gifts and she told me that she'd like to go to Hollister since she heard that they would soon be going out of business. We step into the trendy hipster store and a palm tree frond hit me in the face as I was disoriented by the stench of hookers-in-the-making perfume and hip-hop music blasting in my good ear. I couldn't help but think that I was way too old to be in this store and I'm only 21. How the fuck does that happen?

My sister and I walked around the dark store that literally had about one watt of lighting in the entire store. We found this cute kind of off the shoulder sweater that looked super cute on my sister so I told her to pull it from the rack and try it on. It fit nicely, so I grabbed it. We then went to the clearance section and there was a cute gray vest that she liked and I applauded her style. We got those two things and went to the check-out counter because I told her that maybe she would like to look at another store, too. That was until I found out how much 2 items at Hollister cost. My total was $91 and some change. I gasped when the 14 year old at the counter with her pin-straight hair and braces asked me if it was cash or credit. What in the fuck?! I looked down at my little sister (ok not really down, she's only about 3 inches shorter than I am) and she glanced at me sheepishly and asked if that was too much money. "Um, no. No, it's totally fine," I told her as I reluctantly handed over my debit card to the overtanned bitch behind the register.

We left the store, my little sister happily swinging her new clothes around in the bag. We then went to a store where I could get some clothes. I bought a dress for Spring Fling, a skirt suit outfit that I can wear for interviews and next year for student teaching, a nice going out shirt, and a black camisole. The total was $220, which I thought was reasonable. We left the store with my purchases and my little sister asked if we could go look for some pants for her to match her new sweater. I told her no, that I had spent a lot of money and she got pissed. "That's not fair! You spent $220 on yourself and only $91 on me!" I could feel my blood pressure rise as I saw her face turn red and the first tears of frustration sprinkle out of her eyes. I stood there and tapped my foot and told her that it was my money and that I didn't have to spend any money her, actually and she should be grateful that I got her new clothes. It's not like the kid wants for anything. She has two older sisters who spoil her rotten, not to mention my parents being wrapped around her little manicured finger.

She was visibily pissed, so I started walking away from her, knowing she would follow. She didn't talk to me the whole rest of the time. I asked her if she knew where the good will store was because I was going to drop off the clothes to some kid who would appreciate them. She rolled her eyes and took out her cell phone (yes, she's 11 and has a cell phone) and started texting someone. "Who the fuck are you texting?" Yeah, I say the f-bomb around her, she's used to it. Call me a bad person, whatev. "My friend Diana," she said. I didn't believe her, something about the way she said it was weird. "Prove it," I said and then she responded that fine it was her friend Bryan. Who in the fuck is Bryan and why is he texting my 11 year old sister?! "Give me that phone! This is sister quality time! Give me it!" I reached for it, but she put it back in her pocket. What the fuck is the world coming to that my little sister is texting boys at 11, complaining about not getting enough clothes when I almost dropped a hundo on her, well actually, if you include lunch I did spend $100 on the spoiled little brat.

Gahhh. We got home and our dad was sitting on the couch reading something or whatever he does when he sits on the couch, I was too pissy to notice. "Dad! How do you feel about your eleven year older daughter texting a boy?!" I demanded. He looked up at me and said, "Well. I have one daughter that just moved into a house with her boyfriend, I have another daughter that is away at college, so I guess it's the least of my worries." That's not what I wanted to hear, but I couldn't argue with his logic. But...still. While I was saying this, my little sister had gone upstairs to tell my mom that I had only spend $91 on her but $220 on myself. (To be honest, I was going to get new makeup too, but after her reaction, I couldn't...shh) My mom told her that she was lucky she got anything and yelled at me for spending that much on her.

I can't win, I suppose. What the fuck, eh?


Anyway....
Ex-bff contacted me again and I blew him off again. He wanted to hook up a half hour before I had class. Yeah, right.

Rocker and I are good. He's busy as usual and I'm about to go on Spring Break next week, so hopefully we can make something happen sometime soon. His parents are coming back from their 6 week vacation in Florida (yeah, six weeks) so I think his schedule will clear up a little since his dad will be back to run the business. I would say family business, but I've seen the website and that shit is super professional, it's not just some ma and pa tool store, it's serious shit. It kind of intimidates me that he's pretty wealthy. Not that he talks about money or having it or anything, it's just I know he does. He drives a brand new mustang, has 13 guitars, goes to a shit ton of concerts, has a million gaming systems and games, etc. etc. Whatev, I'm going to look at it as a perk.


Other than that, things have been pretty good. I'll be so glad when Spring Break is finally here so I can just fucking breath a little bit. I've already taken two midterms and I have one paper due this Friday, so other than that the week seems relatively easy, thankfully.