I have shit on the brain.
I know it sounds totally gross and all, but since having food poisoning yesterday and having to go to the toilet a grand total of 17 times and then taking Imodium which has now rendered me utterly constipated, taking a nice healthy shit is all I can think about.
I feel disgustingly bloated.
Uninspired.
I really need to start making youtube videos again. But I feel so uninspired in every aspect of my life.
Wait – no. That’s not really true. it’s not that I don’t have anything to say… it’s that I feel like I need to protect Brett since most of the things I want to talk about are about him. I MISS using my youtube as my journal.
I want to be able to use my youtube channel to vent when he upsets me. But right now I feel like I have to be so careful just in case the viewers comment negatively which then sets him off. I want to be able to talk about everything while still keeping things vague enough so that I don’t give any specifics away.
I don’t want him to seem like some bad guy because he’s not at all bad guy. I love him. So so much. He just sometimes does things that make me sad.
I need to start writing a list of things I want to talk about, I think.
ASSESSMENT LIST.
- Drawing // Make at least 4 more drawings. Use red text!
- Studio Prac // Fans. Find some text on contemporary female sexual culture.
- Photomedia // Ask Bonnie to model. Bring fans.
- Lithography // Printing on WEDNESDAY! Mix colors.
I love lists. I love how they always succeed in putting things into perspective.
Don’t I get a dream for myself?
I had a dream
I dreamed it for you
It wasn’t for me.
Well, someone tell me- when is it my turn?
Haiku from a while ago.
I promise you that -
Nine times out of ten – they have
Taken advantage.
May 28, 2006
An old entry I just found:
TITLE: My Dad’s a fruitcake.
Dad: *knocks on the door*
Jen: I’m up.
Dad: Oh.
Jen: I’ve been up for ages.
Dad: Did you just get out of the shower?
Jen: Yeah.
Dad: Ok. Hey, Guess what.
Jen: What?
Dad: I’m changing your name.
Jen: What?!
Dad: I’ve decided to change your name to Jenemiah.
Jen: Umm…
Dad: Yeah. It sounds more biblical.
Jen: Ok, Dad.
Dad: Jenemiah Pitcheropagus.
Waiting.
Do you remember the day before you broke up with me? You had just come back from Japan early – for me, because I needed you. We spent the morning together and it was wonderful. But then I had things I had to do like go for an appointment at the optometrist and then dinner with friends later on that evening. And you were secretly so upset that I didn’t drop everything to be with you (which is something I should have done and I still feel so much regret about that) since you had just flown back early to be with me.
I’m so sorry about that. It was terrible of me.
The funny thing is, though, is that it’s something you do constantly. You constantly leave me because you have things to do. And for the most part, it doesn’t bother me. I totally get that you have to go to work. I get that you wake up early to go cycling and sometimes, after work you want to work out at the gym.
What I can’t accept is that you arrive at my house at 8 or 9pm after making me wait for ages for you. And then you don’t stay; you won’t sleep here. I feel like yet another bullet in your planner that you have to tick off. I don’t get why I can’t sleep next to you. I don’t accept that you can’t stay because you have to wake up early to go cycling. Bring your gear over so you can leave from my house then. I don’t even accept that you can’t get to sleep in my bed when I’ve told you it’s because you haven’t let yourself get used to it. I don’t accept that you’re sick right now and instead of letting me take care of you I have to wait until 8 at night to see you. How is it that I’m not your comfort – the one you want to be with when you’re feeling like shit? I don’t get that.
I don’t accept that you haven’t moved out OR talked to your housemate to ask if I can come by – not all the time, but even once. A part of me wonders if you’re using that as an excuse so that I won’t be able to be with you.
Am I that awful to spend time with? Is it that awful to sleep next to me?
All the feelings of abandonment that you experienced the day you arrived back from Japan? I felt that on Australia Day when, instead of watching the fireworks with me, you went and hung out with your friends. I feel that every single time I invite you out with me and my friends and you turn me down. I feel those things every single time you leave my house to go and sleep in your own bed.
You waited for me for one day? I wait for you always.
Obsquatch says it best.
And as far as love is concerned…
Love wreaks havoc of the placid waters of my mind and turns them into a boiling torrent. It is wonderful and exciting and exhilarating to be in love, until the undertow grabs hold of your ankles and drags you, kicking and panic stricken, to the murky and lonely bottom. Of course I never learn my lessons and as soon as I can pry myself free and kick to the surface for a fresh gasp of air, I suddenly find myself swimming with reckless abandon away from the safety of the shore and straight towards a thunderhead in the middle of the ocean. I guess my fear of drowning isn’t convincing enough to keep me in the shallow end. I just wish I had some floaties.
Hello.
I’m bored. And lonely.
And I’m not really liking this layout but I’m so tired of all of the other ones.
I’m moody.
Ugh.
Northbridge.
You have no idea how happy I was to be out with you at the beginning of the night- to be walking around Northbridge, looking at art and going to sit in a bar together to listen to music. We don’t do that much.
I can’t even begin to describe how great it was. And then there we were, out the back in the cool night air talking about the future. All my defenses were down and I was just happy – really happy – at the thought of growing old and raising a family with you.
And something so small ruined it. I was standing there, so full of love and trust, and your differing opinion on that topic hurt me; not so much because you disagreed with me but because of how you formed your words to tell me so. The belittling tone you used to convey this was probably the worst part of it.
It sounds silly when I put it into words, but the sheer effect I let you have on my body – physically and emotionally – is probably unwise. One minute I was in your arms, feeling so safe and warm and loved, and then suddenly I was pushed away. I felt small and alone, and very very far away from you. And when I feel that way, when you’re there in front of me and I feel so far away from you, no amount of your appeasing makes me feel better. In fact, it makes every touch feel fake and cold. When you try to pull me in or hold my hand, it feels so wrong.
It’s like whiplash. It takes time for me to recover from your words. I know I shouldn’t let you have such control over me, but it’s much too late for that.
I don’t like it when you try to distract me from how I feel, especially when it was your doing. You always do that. And the most awful thing you did was say, “Jen, you know I love you.” It was only the second time you had said those three words directly to me and they rang so empty. I wait constantly to hear those words but last night when you said them it made me so angry.
And the worst part is that I feel like I ruined the night by not letting it go, even though I still feel like I’m not in the wrong. It’s sick, but I feel so terrible when your hurting me leads to my hurting you – not on purpose, but by how I respond to what you did. Especially since we don’t go out and venture into the city at night very often. I feel like I fucked up a great opportunity.
So I sit here, the morning after, feeling absolutely unrested and alone.
I have to go to work now but I’m too tired to fight the tears.
