Tuesday, February 7, 2017

crippling confessions of a 30 year old child.

Hello old friend...By some miracle, this link ended up being saved onto my mothers old laptop....which replaced the one that was stolen from my room.
Fascinating. And I was just thinking today .."I should write more"....all well and good but my ass can barely read my own handwriting. No thanks.
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Last I wrote was about my love life. Its been oh, 7 years.
Thankfully, much has changed. I've done awful and amazing things. Mostly amazing, I suppose. I finally rid of the horrid job chaining me down for 10 years. Moved on to an art museum. I stand in galleries full of original paintings, sculptures, and prints so there's constant inspiration afoot.
I've secured a second job at a Theatre. One of those live ones with the actors and the stages...no popcorn and sneaky teenagers to worry about. ....just wheelchairs and snobby 70 year olds. Oh, and sometimes I run into celebrities in the hallway and forget my name.
I had managed to find a wonderful gentleman. Lead singer of a good band, long perfect hair, loves me, cherishes me, cooks for me, and an amazing butt.

Now lets take off the Rose colored glasses.

When I started the Art Museum, I came in starry eyed and determined....This was going to be my gig. THIS is where I will blossom. The retail life treated me horrendously for a decade and I've finally found a place where I will be praised for my hard work and sparkling personality. OH and they'll let me keep my obnoxious pink hair because "art".
Over the course of a year, I got put on special projects, included in events, parties, and work-gossip. I had finally reached the holy circle of "cool kids" that get all the hours and inside scoops. I still have the scars and botched knee to prove it. My boss seemed pretty pleased with my constant willing-ness to jump onto new tasks, entirely open availability, and eagerness to move up. Things were going perfect.

Enter a round of new (and younger) hires about 1.5 years into my employment.
There went my spot at the cool kid table...

If retail PTSD is a thing, I most definitely have it. Ye olde revolving door of retail workers...most don't last 6 months. Everyone was just lightbulbs. Once we burned out, another one was ready and willing to be screwed in. I was a CFL and these were LEDs.
Quickly, I jumped into the "seasoned veteran" role and took the LEDs under my paranoid wing.
Apparently I did super well because these 20-something year olds could run laps around my old grandma ass.

Shit.
I couldn't let anyone see me fail. I HAD to be the best...this was a new start anyways, I had done the impossible and ESCAPED the conservative retail life. A life where once anyone can do something your pink haired and pierced face cannot, you're phased out. Tossed along to the next department who wont give you a chance either, and so on and so on.
If anyone tried to help me with any task, I'd refuse. How dare you imply that I cannot do something?
I was coming off as stubborn. So concerned with my own self image and being the best employee who knows how to do everything without any help and can hold her own.....I had alienated the coworkers I had so dearly wanted to look up to me.

During my brief time in the cool kid circle, I had learned a few things I sure didn't want to know about our boss. Most notably that he is a sucker for attractive 20-something females.
Is this why I was hired? Did he just feel bad for me because he, too, had known the torture and turnover rate of retail hell? Am I even attractive? Bueller?

I was slowly but surely being phased out. Bossman began walking around with select new LEDs for longer than the usual 5 minutes. Putting them on those special projects that used to give me a boost of confidence even being considered for. Now I would just watch from the sidelines and steam. This may have been obvious.

I could feel myself acting out. For I was being taken back to that dark disgusting place I never wanted to be again: Jealousy. Retail life is an actual battle. Who can out-do who and rise above the other, who will schmooze with the right people and get promoted the fastest? Who will sleep with the guys in offices and move in with the hiring supervisor?
My mistake in this particular situation is simply that I thought the museum was above it.

I wasn't going to let this bring me down, no sir-ee I was going to put on my big girl panties and work my ass off and show that I DONT have retail PTSD and I'm NOT jealous that this tiny child flirting with the boss was taking all my hours and cool kid spot!............I'm gunna get two other jobs to keep my mind off it!.....wait, what? You want to move up in this place so you're getting another job that will potentially cut your hours in half? Wheres the logic in that?

Now hear me out. Life is about balance. I knew what was going on at work. I saw bonds being formed hair flip after hair flip. Not wanting to resort to that level, I was powerless to stop it. Had I spoken up, I'd come off as jealous and bitter.  I had to leave the toxic environment momentarily. Believing this place I had chosen to give my 100% all to would take the moral high ground in the end and it was just all in my head. With these other distractions, I'd become a much better and well rounded associate who could turn off the paranoia and really focus on my own standing in the organization.

Overworked and malnourished, my behavior at the museum started to change.
During the course of my alternate employment, the few times I worked at the museum it was clear to me that this LED light was screwed in and on for good. I'd try to catch up with coworkers and in return I would get the cold shoulder and feel excluded. No longer was I in on the jokes or the work events...Clearly my plan to become a better associate by creating balance had backfired.

My boss pretended to be happy to see me when I was there. However to me, his smile was nothing short of  "I basically don't need you anymore but I have no reason to get rid of you and I like accidentally glancing at your boobs when you're not looking so yea I'm gunna smile and shit but then go hang out with this other chick I hired and give her precedence on projects because shes like, not a jaded bitch." So how dare you fake-smile to my face? It was insulting.
I either saw right through him, or got so in my head based on my past experience with this very situation and ended up sabotaging myself.

Either way, now an LED light is my superior and my big girl panties have holes in them.

BUT HEY - I had that gorgeous man to come home to...the one with the long hair and perfect butt.
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Are the rose colored glasses still off? Good because I broke up with him.
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Consider me one of those indecisive millennials (which- don't get me started on that group, but technically I'm just a few years into the category) who cannot maintain a relationship for longer than 24 months without getting cold feet and a curious heart. This man was so supportive, beautiful, encouraging, and everything I wanted.
He was also jobless, car-less, and lived with his father. His direction was more toward the band he fronted than an actual career. Had I become one of those? Had I become more concerned with adulty-ness than the squishy love-ness aspects of a relationship? Not having a job shouldn't affect the way one feels about another.....if the foundation of your partnership was strong. And it apparently was not. I could feel myself pulling away. There he was pouring his heart out and begging me to hang in there while he improves his life...and I couldn't. I couldn't be the supportive girlfriend he needed, the rock he should go home to, his biggest fan. I was in fact, garbage.
Now maybe you're thinking its somehow easier being the one to do the heartbreaking. There's a misunderstanding if I've ever seen one.
The guilt, the shame, the blood on my hands and bits of heart still stuck to the bottom of my shoes is enough to drive you to at least 3 panic attacks a week....in the middle of an art gallery...during a docent tour.
Shitty part is I still think about him every damn day. We were each others whole world for 2 glorious years. Tis noble to end things based on a feeling not requited.
In other words, I didn't love him as much as he loved me. The sinking feeling in the pit of my chest is there constantly. He didn't deserve such treatment. Daily, I toy with the idea of reaching out, apologizing,
That would go swimmingly! "lets get coffee and act like good ol' pals who didn't just go through emotional hell!"

Today while dealing with LED light issues at work, (so I'm already in a foul disposition) my close girlfriend/colleague chose to casually ask if she could spend some time with him this week and had their texts to show me.
How lovely. Not only was I already in a puddle of my own tears and regret over recent work occurances, this girl had just poured a bucket of muddy shit over my head.

Add in a 25 year old interest who forgets I exist every other day, is probably messing around with an LED bulb, and my life is essentially a shit sandwich.

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If there's any bright side at all to my current tiny life its this:

When I'm not being slapped in the face by nepotism at the museum, I'm sitting at a desk in an office setting up theatre seats for rich white folks at the Old Globe.
This is one job that I got entirely on my own. I'm very proud of this. Given, its in customer service. The very field that tortured me for 10 years.
Being in a performance arts building is enticing enough to keep me there. Plus it pays more than the museum. Which is just next door, mind you. A constant reminder of my failure every time I look out the office window. Unavoidable. But I digress, hooray for Shakespere.

It doesn't make me as happy as the museum, I don't know even half the staff. Departments are so separated it makes me sad. I stumble a lot. I get confused and doubt myself every day.

However, theatre was my first love. before boys and drugs and Steel Reserve, there was the stage. Perhaps I have come full circle and this is in fact, my calling. Perhaps THIS is my gig. Perhaps I had to get my heart trampled on by two places to find where I truly belong.....In a job I'm not in love with but loves me more than the job I AM in love with.
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Today is my first day off in over a week. I work myself to tears at both places because I'm so warped in my head, if I'm not working, I'm being lazy.

Self Care. Must remember this. Must take time to breathe, decompress, reflect, and type all this out. Must stop glancing at cellular device to see if 25 year old remembers I exist today. Should probably paint.
Eventually I'll even get back on social media.

Hopefully later than sooner.
-LE








Friday, January 14, 2011

San Diego heart.

Being single is attractive. The freedom, the choices, the complete availability.

Those in relationships, lets face it, can be dull.
Ladies have to worry if other girlfriend's husbands or boyfriends will "allow" them to have a night out. Men will get upset at the overbearing wife or girlfriend, all the while exchanging emails with the attractive blond who bar tends at the local apple bees.

OR is this just what we see in the media? Is there such thing as a happily married or monogamous couple in their early 20's without being in an "open relationship"?
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Michael and I were together for nearly 3 years. Seeing as though my longest relationship was maybe 6 months, I was not unjustified in thinking "This is the one I am going to marry".

Oh little naive me. It ended badly - and as always, there was another party involved.

I had been in denial of this 3rd party until it slapped me in the face not too long ago when Michael rang me on a particular phone. (did he really think I didn't have her number saved?)
That phone call screamed at me to "MOVE ON!"....fine. I will. I have to. And whoever the next man in my life will be, I would try everything in my power to NOT compare him to the lying heartless half a man named Michael.
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Throughout the years, Dylan and I have always been attracted to each other, so its only natural we enjoy each others company once I was finally available to do so...right? He may be Michael's friend and nearly co-worker, but hey, they would have never known of each others existence had it not been for me.

It was time to claim him back.

What started innocently enough [if you could call it innocent] as ....not what your mother would want to see....text messages, turned into an overnight physically exhausting Christmas eve. Thanks santa ;)
Waking up in his arms reminded me of what I missed about being in a relationship.

However, going out that same night reminded me of why I'm glad I was single.
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Dylan is from Los Angeles. Where monogamy is unheard of. Where you're young, hot and single. LIVE IT UP. with whoever, wherever and whenever. 

How I crave to be one of them. Beautiful, can have their choice of anyone in the world, and people full of envy of their simply having fun lifestyle.
I grew up with believing in marriage and fate. Love and made for each other. betrothed and a double gravestones.

My San Diego heart clashes with his Los Angeles ways.
Perhaps maybe, it was time for a change now. After all, the LA motto is just too appealing to not try out.

I was going to have fun. I felt like I had wasted 3 years of my young life and the time had come to make up for it.

Inspired, I spent my New Years with Randy, chatted up a bit with Nick a week later, then celebrated with Tyler for his birthday
.
Upon finding out Dylan was doing the same, I fell apart.

What made me think he would simply sit at home and play video games while I was out having fun?

In no sense were we in any type of relationship...hell, we sometimes went days without talking!
I had broken the cardinal rule of having fun - having feelings was forbidden.
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Monday night would be the second time I had seen him since Christmas. It started out great, went to amazing, and quickly went to hell after I drank my 5th shot of vodka and brought up his LA ways.
I cant recall the conversation or activity that led to us sleeping together, yet I remember the video camera and his deep yet child like voice saying "you're starting to piss me off."
I cant recall falling asleep yet I can remember him using the sink and me using the toilet.
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day 4 I haven't heard from him. Or Randy, Nick or Tyler.

Clearly, I'm not Los Angeles.
As a matter of fact, I'm sick to my stomach with the weight of 4 different emotions for 4 different men who likely have 10 other different women, but mainly Dylan.

My inspiration and my original distraction from Michael.

So while I sit here with my head twirling and my heart sinking from the lack of new text messages [it's taken me quite awhile to write this- as I am continuously glancing at my cell phone....still a glimmer of hope to see a tiny green blinking light.]
I first tell myself, "having fun" is not worth the heartache I have to endure.

Michael may have been all wrong for me in the end, but just because one relationship didn't work out, does not constitute having a multitude of them simultaneously.

I'm not saying people from Los Angeles are heartless.
I'm simply saying I cant measure up. I tried to be someone I'm not. I cant have the fun everyone craves.
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Michael and I broke up in August..
I wonder if there is another San Diego heart out there for me.

Finally after 5 months, I am taking applications.

The Green Button

I always felt some sort of love for all my past relationships. There are all different sorts, after all. With Aaron, it was never love. it was desire. When you cant see the person, and all you have is a photo to go by, all you have is your imagination. which can lead to endless possibilities. which doesn't exactly help the desire factor.....in a way, it worsens it.

Every night, for months, we would have conversations. for hours on end..about absolutely nothing and it felt so amazingly good. I could be in my pajamas with the worlds worst morning breath with not a stitch of makeup on, and we would be watching a movie together 400 miles apart. I was bursting with happiness every time this person whom I've never met called me.

I had set a ring tone aside for him. Still to this day, every time I hear the song its from, my heart skips a beat. Back then I'd sit by the phone, count down the seconds, minutes, hours until he called. I would log the time he called in my mind and expect the phone to ring around the same time the next night.

The best [or worst, depending on how you look at it] part of our technology-ridden relationship is that i felt needed. He needed me to go to the grocery store, the bank, taco bell and even the gym at 3 in the morning. Perhaps it was just easier over the phone than going through the hassle of going to pick me up, waiting for me to get ready, dealing with the awkwardness of trying to decide on the regular mac-n-cheese or the white shells kind for a pair of two people who were not even in a real relationship. I was as convenient as taking the phone out of your pocket. If we ever got mad at each other one could just hit the end button. There is no end button in real life.

Once it came time for us to meet face to face, I couldn't think of a word to say. 4 months of us yapping to 3 AM, silly arguments and disagreements, and there we were. in silence. He was in a texting conversation across the table, planning out the rest of his night for after he left the restaurant. After heading to the bathroom to make sure none of my eyelashes were stuck together from my 50th coat of mascara, I returned to the table for my 50th shot of sake, and after what seemed like the 50th hour slowly dragged by, I left.

The end button would have really come in handy about then.

I received a text message not too long after. He laughed about it. While i was too traumatized to even face him again.

We both made up for it the next night. 2 clubs. far too many alcoholic beverages, I went home with him.
I examined his room as thoroughly as I could without him noticing. I memorized every pile of clothing and mark on the wall. The whole time thinking "this is where you fall asleep on the phone with me.." "this is where you were sitting at your computer when we first met.." It may have been a little creepy, but at the time, it was literally like a dream come true.

Waking up next to him was surreal. I knew even then, that if I don't die on the 2 hour flight home, the distance between us will surely murder me.

the random trips we took to-and-from San Diego and Las Vegas only worsened my condition. He had formed a cocky attitude, or maybe now I was just realizing it. I was getting tested. And teased. When I would get upset because he was going out with other girls, it would be "cute"...."I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe." The next day I'd be disappointed because I had received no phone call...it would be "crazy"..."stop acting crazy."

I began to think...maybe I am acting a little too clingy. too 'crazy.' Maybe I am becoming some horrible 'stalker-esque not-even-technically-his'...girlfriend. Whatever we were now, I didn't want to ruin it with the word "girlfriend." For I could very well be one of many, and not even know it.

It got to the point where I could no longer take his teasing. His giggling at my attempts of affection. Like I was a project. He and an audience were watching me do my tricks through a display glass window.

I blocked him. On a number of occasions. deleted him from my internet profiles, and instant messaging contact lists. But I could never delete him from my phone. Whatever glimmer of a bond we had, it would all start and end on that thing. (although his name did change a number of times.)

He once told me "I'm not going to be the guy that does everything for you. If you want to be babied, go find someone else. Get lazy and fat." This in response to asking him for a valentines day card. I like to tell myself it was because he wanted me to be successful in my endeavors and not be co dependent on people for the rest of my life.... Or maybe he just didn't care to do anything for me.

This is not to make him sound like a horrible person. This is just a reminder in some way. I don't think I would be as well off now if it was not for him.

I was always afraid to tell him how much I cared for him.. how i couldn't go a few days without hearing his voice. or a few minutes without thinking of hearing his voice because there was always that end button threatening me.

not too long ago, I finally did. Maybe it was because now that I am in a relationship with an actual person, and not a cell phone, I felt I had nothing to lose. He told me what I wanted to hear. "you have to have patience with me..." "you know how hard it is a state away..."

The whole time, he may have cared. May have pushed me away so his feelings would not increase. So it wouldn't make the distance even harder, But that's exactly what he did. As I lied and said "I'll talk to you soon" and he didn't lie and replied "maybe" I hit the end button. And it was done.

It's been almost a year now that I've been with someone else. Moved away from home, got my own place, (with some pretty interesting roommates) work is right across the street and life is going just right. I don't have to cook a thing. And I didn't get lazy or fat.

Its week three. and the dreams have not ceased. Its as if hes dead...and he exists only in my memory. in my dreams. Which are becoming more and more like nightmares. Nightmares which are causing me to write this...leading me to remember why i really did hit the red button, and wondering what I'd unleash if today I'd hit the green one.