Welcome to my happily ever after...
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so fucked up
Goodness, I'm so grouchy that I don't even like myself this morning. I slept a full 8 hours last night so it's not sleep deprivation. I'm going to be a bitch on wheels this week. I can feel it.
The weekend sure went quickly. When I was about to walk out the door on Friday, the two women that I will be carpooling with asked to go have drinks with them after work. I called and asked Carlos to meet us there, and we all met at the Grotto. I thought things went well initially, but later I got to thinking about it and realize that at some point things got weird. I'm not sure how to describe it, but for some reason there was a weird vibe in the air. I can't figure out why. This is precisely why I don't like socializing with people from work...too many things can happen. Who knows....maybe Carlos said something to piss them off when I got up to go to the bathroom or something. You know, I can't worry about it.
Later Friday night was bad. I don't even think that I care to recount it. Let's just say that it involved beer, an overflowing toilet, and getting caught drinking by my boyfriend. Maybe I'll write about it later. Something has got to give though because I was a mess. As a result, I just lay low all day on Saturday, and when Carlos got home at 9:30 that night from work, we just watched TV until about 10:30 and then went to bed. Me no feel good.
Sunday I went and got Pappacito's takeout that I took to the hospital. My dad is sick of the hospital food, and I decided to surprise he and my mother by bringing lunch. After gorging ourselves on enchiladas and more chips and salsa we could handle, we watched Something's Gotta Give, or whatever it's called. It was cute, but definitely a movie intended for older folk. My parents laughed like mad.
I just had one of those girls that I went with on Friday afternoon come over here and get onto me about being pissy. I somehow managed to restrain myself. Why am I in such a bad mood today, I wonder?
I always hated that my sister would start a fight when she knew that she wasn't going to get her way on something. For example, if she wanted to do something that she knew my parents wouldn't let her do, she would start a fight first so that way she could somehow justify getting all mad and doing it anyways. I find myself sometimes doing that for example with Carlos, and I hate it when I see that in myself.
Part of my problem is that this girl that I'm feuding with is good friends with that evil woman that I don't like here. In fact, when we were at the bar last Friday, I asked her why she told the woman what I'd said about her, which really wasn't anything but "the woman doesn't like me for some reason". Well, then evil woman then confronted me and told me that if I had to something to say about her, to say it to her face. I really didn't think it was appropriate that my so-called friend told her what I'd said, and I wasn't mad until that point. Once it was out in the open though, I started thinking about it and got angry.
The good news is that evil woman got a new job and will be working 100 miles away from here soon. I simply cannot wait. She has pushed my tolerance level further than I think I have ever let a coworker take it before ever without my losing it, and it's just a matter of time before I snapped and let her have it.
On lunch, I think I might have to go home and get out of here for a while. I'll go home and decompress a bit. I wish I could figure out what my problem is.
Changing the subject, this weekend I ran into a guy named PJ that I went to high school with. I hadn't seen him in 14 years, and even this many years later I froze with panic. I pretended like I didn't see him and scurried off. Here's the story:
My senior year in high school I had a crush on this guy named PJ that was in my computer math class. I didn't know much about him as he'd just moved to my high school the year before, but he lived in the house behind mine, and our back yards shared a fence. Now PJ was straight, and at that point in my life I guess that I down deep knew I was gay, but I hadn't dealt with all that within myself yet. I just wanted to be friends, or at least that's what I had convinced myself. I know it sounds dumb, but I was a mess back then, and I had no idea why I kept developing these obsessions with boys. PJ was not the first guy that I'd developed a crush on, and every time it followed the same pattern of wanting to be "friends".
Back then I would hang out my bathroom window to smoke, and since it was upstairs I had a bird's eye view of what was going on at his house. I'm sure the neighbors all got a big kick out of seeing me half out the window with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. Anyways, sometimes on Friday and Saturday nights I'd hang out the window all night to see what time he got home from hanging out with his friends. It was kinda like doing the "drive-bys"...you know, where you'd drive by someone's house you'd have a crush on to see if their car was there. Only all I had to do was open the damn window.
Anywho, I did everything I could to make PJ notice me. In fact, at one point I even remember asking him if he'd give me a ride to school because I told him my car was broken, which was not true at all. I was determined this guy was going to want to hang out with me! After months of trying, it just didn't happen, and I was so frustrated. Remember, we had class together? Well, my frustration sometimes turned into anger (much like I am right now), and I can't remember what exactly I said to him that pissed him off, but I think it had something to do with his ex-girlfriend. Whatever it was must have been a doozy though because then things suddenly got UG-LY, and he and his best friend then resolved to make my life miserable. And boy, did they ever.
One night I was in my room and looked out the window right as he and his friends were running up the driveway to egg my house, and I saw them throw eggs and then jump in his car and drive off. There I'd been trying to get this boy to notice me for so long, and next thing I know he and his friends were trying to torment me for fun. One-sided puppy love is one of the most painful things known to man, and it was almost more than my little 17 year old gay heart could handle. I've kept journals for years and years, and recently I got them out and looked at page after page of sad poetry and song lyrics I'd written down trying to chronicle how miserable I was during that time.
Back to PJ....things escalated further than just egging my house. He rallied his friends together to then tease me and try to trip me in the halls, knock my books out of my hands, etc, and it was horrifyingly embarrassing to be walking to class with my friends while people yelled "fag" at me. I also remember receiving an "anonymous" letter in the mail telling me that I was going to die of AIDS. I don't remember all the details on that one. I think that I may have managed to selectively block it from my memory banks.
These boys were not the only kids in school that teased me throughout the years. I found the whole concept of P.E. class absolutely terrifying, and I'll never remember once when I was in 7th grade having what I can only describe as a complete emotional breakdown in P.E. after some boys ganged up on me teasing me, throwing rocks at me, calling me names. I didn't know what to do, so I went to the counselor's office and cried my eyes out to the point that they didn't know what to do with me. They ended up calling my mother and having her come get me. I still am embarrassed thinking about it.
Oh Lord, and don't even ask about the time the boys tied me to the picnic table and left me there. I lay there for close to 4 hours before someone came along and untied me.
You know, I think that I am still nursing my wounds so many years later. I didn't go to my high school reunion a few years ago because I said that I had nothing to prove, yet I think it was because I didn't want to face anyone from that era of my life. I'm not that person anymore. Or maybe I am and I just didn't want to show up and let everyone know that I haven't changed a bit. Either way, my miserable MISERABLE young adulthood is something I must overcome.
I sometimes wonder if these people that tried so hard to make my life miserable know what they did to me. I wonder if they know that all these years later I still think about the things they said to me and the mean things they did to me.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. And it explains a lot of why I am so fucked up.
10:45 a.m. - 2004-07-12
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