The Mok Spot

Yesterday I randomly watched some special on I think it was the Discovery Channel about the amazing human body and pushing it to the limit. It talked about this guy who was swimming across the English Channel. It went through everything his body was going through.

Apparently we only have about 2 to 3 hours of energy and our body copes by either enlarging or shrinking fat cells. But after that 3 hours is up, your body has to make a change over. But before it changes over, you start to feel like shit. Your body is telling you that the situation sucks ass and that you should stop. But our bodies are designed to keep going regardless.

Your body makes this change and actually starts consuming the fat cells. It is kind of like cannabalism in that it starts to eat itself. But that point right before, when you feel like shit is apparently called hitting a wall.

I think the same applies to relationships. At least my relationships.

I'm fine for a set period of time and then I slam headfirst into this wall. But unlike my body, I'm not designed to make a change so I just stop. I stare at the wall like: FUCK, but then I just bounce.

For whatever I can't put in the effort to keep pushing forward. I can't go around consuming myself like that. I feel like I do enough of that before I even reach the damn wall. I don't know, but it seems like after I get to that point I get kind of completely over that person, that relationship, and that situation. Bleh.

A series type thing for me? Maybes.

Anyway, I hate advice. Giving. Receiving. It sucks. I remember in 9th grade being told a quote [which is kind of a separate point altogether that now irks me] that utlimately meant that when people ask for advice, they really aren't asking what to do, but rather they want to know that the decision they have already made is good. They want to be reassured. They want to feel justified.

I guess I understand that. But something about needing validation from others bothers me. It also feels like a major cop-out. Not that I'm admonishing the idea of help, but completely giving up your issues for somebody else to figure out. Unacceptable.

At times I am a fan of relieving myself of responsbility, but that doesn't mean I still can't get a nasty taste in my mouth. Take whatever I feel with J. Before Aunt Flow reared her ugly head, I was pretty sure i was just going to text him on his birthday and let that be that. Now that my emotions are in overdrive, I'm asking myself why I would do that? He knew the ball was in his court and that it would be up to him to keep me around. He'd done a good enough job the others times to make sure I was there. He stopped for a reason. I should leave him alone and let him be happy. The worst case scenario is things get back on a track that seems reminiscent of what we had before only to end in the same way.

And really? Is that so bad? The experience is worth it, right? He legit made me happy so I should just chalk it up and go for it. Methinks no in this moment.  But I'm sure that will change.

I want to ask for advice. I want to know what I should do. But it is my life. No matter what I'm told, the person doesn't know how I feel. They can't experience the result of their decisions. I barely understand so how can anybody else.

I guess I don't want it to be my fault. I don't want it to be anything I've done. Maybe that's the worse case. If so, I'm living it either way right? If I pushed him away to begin with or if I don't fight to have him back.

Might as well stay up and watch the sunrise, right? ;)

On the whole, I prefer action of inaction, because it is in those moments when everything ceases that my mind begins to wander. Like now. He's all I can think about. (Along with the rumble in my stomach and the dread of what the lack of sleep will do to me.)

But when I really think about it. I'm lucky. I consider myself incredibly lucky. If he is indeed my first love and I am getting over the first then I have it good. Better than anyone else. I don't know what it feels like to have his arms around me. I don't know how deep his voice is. I don't know if his adam's apple jumps when he laughs. I couldn't tell you his smell or any nervous quirks. I never felt his lips against mine or his breath in my ear. I never had to look in his eyes, and best of all: I never had to watch him walk away.

And for this small thing, I am grateful.

If my mind fucking has taught me anything, it is to mind fuck the emotionally stable.

Yes, that is quite the crass statement, but you have to say those things or realize you're a monster. Either way you lose.

Looking back over the demise of my last relationship I came to the hindsight conclusion that Honesty without compassion is brutality. Once again my big mouth has gotten me into trouble. One of my life mottos is certainly useful now: shit happens.

As bad as I felt, and believe me I felt BAD, nothing compares to the feeling I felt with Andrew and Lacey. I still can't articulate why I did it. I really thought she deserved to know, but my intentions weren't altogether pure and had I known the result, I would have kept my mouth shut.

Part of it was the challenge that Andrew thought I wouldn't do it. That I couldn't. I wish I hadn't proved him wrong. Were I a woman of regrets, I think that would top the list.

I had no idea how close to the edge Lacey was. Images of her popping pills or cutting her wrists filled my head. I couldn't have nightmares about it because I couldn't sleep at night. I'll admit that Andrew went just as bonkers. I wonder if he really did carve her intials into his chest. I wouldn't be surprised if he did.

It is bad enough that the idea of suicide scares me, but the thought that somebody else's life is lost because of me? That was a lot to deal with. I lost a lot during that experience. I lost the good that I thought was within myself. I'd always believed in the evil of man, but I guess I never thought about it in regards to myself.

I lost my main confidant. For whatever had happened between us (whatever being a massively and partialy accidental mind fuck), Andrew had always been there for me. I remember the first time I drove by myself and almost got into an accident. I remember writing him this long email. Something about him always made me feel better. I even recall a long while back when I was thinking over the Josh situation in the shower and I asked myself why I cared so much and it was his voice that answered: Because you love him. Deep right? Especially considering I've never heard Andrew's voice. I just knew. When things get hard now I think about it. And I'm always a bit bitter about it. Bitter that he was always right. Bitter that I was an adult and needed help on my life from him. Bitter that he would never love me.

I think it has been close to a year since I've talked to him. Since he randomly checked in on me to make sure I remember how despicable I was. And I remembered. How could I forget? I said I could live without him and I am. And I think things would be on the level of suck either way.

I have a theory (well several actually that I plan to flesh out in my book: Hung Like a Horse) that you should never be involved romantically with someone who has the same last name as you. Of course I don't mean the exact same last name (I don't even know the chances of that even happening) but people who are in your neck of the alphabet. Homeroom dating. These are the people that would have been in your homeroom.

I opt to stay way from these people. Do I have some technical reason outside of the fact that I'm a crazy lady? No. I just find that one of the ways (when you're a girl) to know if you and a guy are meant for each other is whether or not your last name makes sense and has a nice ring to it. I find that similiar last names are not conducive to this method. Take my mother's name. Her second marriage to my dad sounds a million times better than her maiden name and the name from her first marriage. I think that is one of the reasons why she kept his last name after they got divorced.

Don't homeroom date. You'll thank me later.

Mind fucking is far too easy.

"What about your girlfriend/boyfriend?"

This question has many variations but the bottom line is to figure out if the person you're talking to has a significant other. This trick is probably the oldest in the book. The person will invariably respond and you know whether or not you can pursue them romantically. It is simple and classy and best of all, non intrusive.

"..If you want too.."

This is another one of my favorites because of my tendency to be passive. This is the ultimate way to put the ball in the other person's court. This puts the onus of moving forward on them. The idea is that for something to be accomplished successfully, then both participants have to willingly agree. By asking them, it is clear what you want, but adding this little phrase at the end puts subtle pressure on them to act (usually in the positive.)

"Sorry for What?"

It isn't just that I don't like the word sorry. Ok, well, maybe it is. It is such a filler word and I feel as though people use it so carelessly. This question and others like it get the sincerity from the person saying it. Often they are just saying it because they think it needs to be said without actually feeling bad. This makes them think about what they could have possibly done to wrong you and makes them acknowledge that.

"Should I be mad?/Why would I be mad at you?"

Probably my favorite because I'm terribly moody. Most of the time I'm not actually mad at the person but when they ask me if I am mad at them it makes me believe I could possibly have reason to be. These questions essentially make the person tell of themselves if I'm not mad and if I'm mad, then it makes them realize and understand just what it was about their actions that pissed me off.

I'm not going to completely lie and say that I'm not afraid of rejection. I am. It does make me a bit weary to put myself out there and be denied. I avoid that by not putting myself out there, or being so nonchalant in my actions to play off my true intentions, and by being staunchly old fashioned in that I should be pursued. Not be the pursurer.

I've got a handle on my issues with rejection, but I've yet to full flush out my problems with being accepted. I get that it sounds weird, but it is true. I guess it is because I've never really been in that position before. Considering my past experiences, it makes me feel like I'm just going to ultimately do something to fuck it up (probably open my big mouth.) Or maybe I feel like I don't deserve something that good in the first place or that the guy could do better than me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be perfect by any means, but you want to be what they want. You want to be there everything as realistically as possible. I guess if I were ever put that in position I would be afraid of not being able to sustain that.

That for whatever reason I'm not going to be able to accept being loved. Twenty years is a very long time to not have anybody. K was saying today that she really needed a guy and that it had been a semester since she'd had anyone. Oh, yeah, well, try two decades. I win.

When i was talking to J we brought up my self confidence a few times. I don't really think the random guy can pick up on the fact that it isn't as high as it would be but I think working out and working on my body a little bit will help with that. Mainly because I'd be skinny and I know that people are shallow and would better appreciate that.

I know that may sound silly but at times I feel like i have everything else going for me. I'm smart (or at least I can maintain that illusion. Shit, I go to Duke for crying out loud). I'm funny. I do have this moments. I'm honest. Most other females will bullshit up and down and then around the world but I don't. I don't need much. I'm used to being alone so I don't necessarily need to be hanging on somebody's arm all the time. I'm a great listener and I'm always around when I'm needed.

And when I'm wanted. Whenever that is.

Or isn't. :p

I thought about that at like 4 this morning.

It still kind of blows my mind that she asked Brian that.

Old white women, ftl.

They don't know what the hell they're talking about.

Just like everybody else.

ALSO:

I just (kind of) realized how racist my homies are. Not my friends. While I was in middle school (I think) I collected this figurine type things called homies. Little hispanic folk. Some of them look like real beaners. I should add a picture. Why did I waste my money on them? So weird.

ALSO:

I tried going to be around 2 but couldn't so I IM'd Steven. I was bored enough to go along with him, but that didn't last long because he had company. Anyway, he has to go and says: "love you honey"

This is funny for all the usual reasons but add in the fac that I'm 85% sure he doesn't even know what my name is. Super fail.

Alright, that isn't entirely true. (I don't actually know just yet.)

I want a screamer. Somebody to get loud with me. Yell and scream and fight and let it all go without any reservations.

No, this isn't about sex. But I have realized that I am very passive in my relationships. I just chill on the corner waiting for the other person to make a move. Then I do whatever and chill out again. The ball is always in the other person's court. Which is why I need them to be the opposite of me. I need them active.

Scrunchy was probably the best example of this. He had no problems telling me exactly how he felt or exactly what was up. He never minced his words for me which, over time, was not only something I needed, but wanted.

At times, our interactions reminded me of the song "Scars" by Papa Roach. I tear my heart open. Just to feel. That's how it was with Scrunchy. After most conversations I went away feeling pretty raw and tender. Vulnerable, but very much alive. There were moments when I felt like I was existing and not living and he helped remind me of the pain and that's what made me feel like I was alive.

It sounds a little sick and weird but it was kind of like emotional cutting. Everything felt better out than in. And he was never one to bullshit me. Of course he didn't just go all out capping at me. He used his words to cut right to the bone. It wa exactly how he said what he said that made him a screamer. The way he could at times re-convince me of my own badness. That is until I couldn't take that anymore.

When I decided I had to live my life on my own with going back to him to help me. The same kind of hurt got repetive and eventually down right annoying. I thought I was better than that. And maybe for a little while I was.

But I'll never forget one of the most gut wrenching things he ever said. I believe I'd ask him a question and he replied that answering would imply that he trusted me. Trust is the only thing that will make a relationship survive. Sure, love and care and devotion are nice, but I can do all those things with a basketball team. It comes down to trust. And once I officially didn't have his anymore, everything became a moot point.

- I have not lost any friends or subscribers. In fact, I've gained them. His bullshit isn't hurting me.

- Xanga isn't divided into people on my side and people on his side

- He isn't white so why the fuck does he care about the oppression of white people?

- People are way too serious and need to calm the hell down.

- Him calling me an idiot on my pulse was out of line. I said something. He said something and that should have been game over. But no.

- I kind of wish that girl hadn't gone further to call him out. It's a bad move. Just let it die.

- Lots of people are hung up on the fact that I said white people lost the election when Obama won. If that wasn't a clue to the sarcasm in my post then the world is more full of stupid people than I thought.

- I've decided people read the way the want the message to spin instead of how the writer wrote it/intended

- The first people that commented weren't bothered by my post because they are readers of mine and know how I write. Therefore:

- As important as it is for a blogger to know their audience. The readers must also understand where the writer is coming from

- Being in the middle of Xanga drama sucks. I'm literally nauseous over it. To have complete strangers ripping you a new one over something that was in the first place misunderstood and in the second place exaggerated is quite upsetting.

- I have a better perspective now and if I ever have an issue with someone, I will go to them directly. Publicly posting things to get hordes of other stupid people on your side is not the way to handle things.

- I finally understand why people leave/quit Xanga. Most days, it just isn't worth the trouble.

- I'm trying hard to not respond and maintain my blog when in all honesty I kind of want to walk away from it. At least until things die down.

- The girl saying she was going to report me worried me. IDK how Xanga deals with that. I know they can't/won't shut me down, but just the thought is so unfair

- I had a dream that I had an IM conversation with the Greekphysique