Category Archives: Planet Suck


I swear it feels like I’m not really alive, but I am pretty sure dead people don’t get up and go to work, right? Maybe on a good day, dead people get up and eat cheese and watch reality tv marathons on VH1, but why would they ever go to work?
As it seems that I’m at work, I guess I can’t be dead. But I can write in my blog. Even better, there was actually much accomplished this weekend.
* I went to see Sex and the City with Jessica. It was so good. Everything I needed it to be. I was on the verge of emotional breakdown through much of it, as many parts were quite moving. And everyone gets *exactly* what they want in the end. Jess and I then had a fair amount of alcohol and did a little dancing in the Easy Lounge.
* I jogged around Lake Merritt without stopping to walk once.
* I performed Sicilienne by Faure at my cello recital without a single major bungle. I was afeared. Not messing up is highly impressive. So be impressed.

So, I’m still functional. I did have some sad moments. Sometimes I swear it is getting worse, not better. And I still can’t believe that I am getting on with just existing without my person.

It’s all been highly documented here, though. Belief must be imminent.

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Tea with jam, jam and bread

What am I? I am fine mostly. Angry sometimes. Feeling vindictive, others. To be entirely honest, I have sent some text messages along the lines of “I am so sad and I miss you so much” not because I was overcome with emotion. But because I knew it would hurt pretty bad to get that message. And I think about how hurtful he was sometimes. That if I ever complained that I didn’t get enough, he would say “but it is better than nothing, isn’t it?” Leaving me trapped by a veiled threat that I should just swallow the spoonful I was granted or I could get nothing.
So I’m just chugging along. Trying to keep busy. Waiting for the suck to be over.

I vaguely wish to write of the lunacy that was Friday night’s birthday outing dinner for R: the uber-butchy German waitress who danced on the table. The piece of fried shnitzel that I attempted to eat, but failed to as it was about a square footage of food. The extreme loudness, exacerbating by the Euro-Techno-Pop rendition of doo-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-doo.

I could also write about the date I had on Saturday, which included a viewing of Zombie Strippers at the Parkway. It truly was about strippers that were zombies. They stripped and then ate people. And as time went on, they sort of decayed, but continued to strip. Mmm hmm.

Or I could write about going to the Albany Bulb with Tom, which was a super neat place to learn about. And it was really good to see my Tomas. It did my heart some good.

And then there was Jua, who is HUGE again, and still has 6 more weeks to ferment. And Aaron, who’s just about 2 and talking a lot, but I can’t understand a damn thing he says, so I have to look to Jua to translate.

I could even talk about the profound amount of junk that I ate this weekend. Or that I went to swim laps for the first time in ages, because I got a new speedo, which has cut-outs on the sides that are rather sassy.

And yet.

I’d rather not…

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My Train Wreck

16 hours later.
Am still ranting and raving in my head.
Believe there is nothing I can do to change his mind. He will always be a coward.
I hope it hurts like hell.

A pint of vodka and half a dozen cigarettes last night did not help (but thanks, Shayne!)
After sobbing retarded for 2 hours, a dose of the Ruby Room only served to heighten my looking like ass this morning.

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Sara Bareilles has got this song called Gravity. It’s the whole reason that Planet Suck is a planet.
An excerpt of lyrics:
Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign.

I think what she’s saying is an awful lot like what I’m going through… that I can’t stop myself from going back into this relationship again and again. And it’s not something that he is actively doing; it’s like a completely crazy addiction that is beyond my control. As much as I have moments that I desperately want out, it also hurts like crazy just to think about not being in this love. No one could ever be as good. No one will ever think I’m as good. No one else is him, and that’s all that I want.

I figure that if I can’t get myself off of this orbital path, that I need to get hit by a stray meteor. And to stop making an astronomical metaphor, I need to meet someone else. Very logical.
But there’s not a store where I can just put a new boyfriend on my credit card. And thus, I haven’t actually gotten one yet. I’ve been viciously attacking my body at the gym in the hope that if I got prettier, I’d just *get* a boyfriend. But they’re still not chasing me down on the streets or anything. And granted, my 6 am gym habit is really getting in the way of going out and socializing at all. And it’s trickier now that I’m at this age when people aren’t having big parties, and my girlfriends are going out. The last time I went to a party, let alone met someone at a party? I dunno… 2003 or something?

It gets even better now. Since I’ve failed to execute the plan, I decided to take new measures and I posted a personal ad on Craigslist. The shame is such that I can barely rest my mind on it to think on this and holy hell, now I’m writing it down. When people have suggested internet dating to me in the past, my argument was that I didn’t want to meet someone with the preconception that there was supposed to be an assessment of interest. I want to meet someone and just be interested or not and I don’t want there to be this artificial set-up for judgment, good or bad. (By the way, I HATE that judgment has no e in it. Gets me ever time.)
But since I had failed to be meeting anyone through any sort of regular methods, I just did it. I’ve kept my expectations low and am trying to remember that I’m not necessarily going to get a boyfriend out of this, but it should serve the intended purpose of distraction. And maybe enough distraction that I can extricate myself. Which I guess means that I’m sort of using these guys. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. Except that I feel weird.
I went on two dates last week. They were fine. I wish there were more to say, but I’m just not really jazzed about it. I could go out with either of them again, but only if they ask really and who knows if that will happen.
And that’s all I have to say about that, I guess. I made an effort. I am trying.

As an aside, I would like to mention that some joker stole my ad. He changed anything gender specific, but otherwise re-posted it word for word in the men seeking women section. I can not decide if I am flattered or freaked out. It definitely starts with an F though, whatever I am.

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Mmmm…. sigh…

It was a grand night on Planet Suck. As if I had actually taken the commuter shuttle to Planet Suck’s moon, Dreamy Wonderful Eye-Gazing Bliss.

We had a wonderful dinner at Flora. The food was fantastic albeit complicated, but the waitress was really friendly and helpful in explaining everything. We spent a lot of time there, in our typical fashion, holding hands across the table and beaming at each other. If it didn’t make me so ridiculously happy, I would find us repellent.

And then we went back to my place and were, well… epic.  Epic with assorted bouts of the giggles (mostly me) and goofy grinning.

This is why I keep hanging out on this planet.  Sometimes, it’s a great place to live.

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