6/30/07

Heart of Glass

Levi, and I had a very serious conversation today for the first time in the 20 years we've simultaneously coexisted on this planet. I adore the fact that he and I are never serious, but I actually found myself tearing up after our conversation because my baby brother trusts me enough to show me his underbelly. The conversation gravitated around the generally question of how I knew I loved Avery and how I knew Avery loved me. Good question eh? I found it to be an especially good question given the fact that just last night we were watching "The Break Up," and as the movie unfolded and the character of Gary became more and more of a dick, he looked at me and said "Z, I'm him aren't it? I'm exactly like that. Why didn't you make me watch this right after you saw it?" I told him because it wouldn't have changed anything. Avery and I are a Ying and Yang of mental states: I am selfless, he is selfish; I give, give, give, he takes, and takes, and takes; I would change everything for someone's happiness, he would sooner tell someone to go fuck themselves than do something he doesn't want to do. But? It works out exceedingly well. In all honesty, it does, otherwise I doubt we'd be going onto our fifth year of dating. He gives me something to focus my efforts on, and he lavishes and adores the fact I will go out of my way to accommodate him. That's not to say we don't have our issues and that I don't require him to put some effort into making time for me etc, but for the most part we travel along together in this symbiotic state of complementary angles. I knew going into this that he was like that, and I knew there was no way I was going to change it. I could modify it to better suit me, but I wouldn't ever be able to change him, and that's why I said nothing would have changed. But, he looked at me with those puppy dog brown eyes and said, "You know I'd do anything if it means I'll never lose you." Disgustingly sappy, yet more utter perfection could not have dropped from his lips at that very moment. Way to seal the deal on getting some action that night, ay?

I’m not 100% sure when I realized I actually categorically loved him, but for what it’s worth I always feel like I’m home whenever he had his arms around me, and there is something euphoric that takes over me when he touches me. I can’t explain it, and it’s nothing sexual, but, at my best attempt, I’d describe it as an intense feeling of comfort. Regardless, it dawned on me that things were a little deeper than I had ever really wanted when we had our first real fight. Not a bullshit fight because that’s what two people who spend too much time together always end up at, but the kind of fight where you’re inches away from completely walking away from the entire situation because you’re so incredibly hurt and aggravated by the situation that you’d rather cut your losses and walk away then have to deal with both the hurt and aggravation repeatedly until some resolution can be found. Yes, one of those fights. It was about how we rarely spent time together because he had plans every weekend and would spend the entire weekend with his friends, leaving me just a few hours on a random week night to see him. My logical conclusion was that I didn’t want to be fit into anyone’s schedule, let alone my boyfriend’s, and there’s really no point in having a boyfriend or any form of a relationship with someone who puts everything before you with the caveat of wanting to enjoy the few days of free time they have a week. So, there we were arguing about whether or not he spent enough time with me with my mind already made up that this was the end and there was no more, when I had this deep sinking feeling and my heart actually hurt. Sure, the fact that my boyfriend was merely fitting me into his schedule rather than making me apart of that schedule hurt like hell, but the prospect of no longer having in my life hurt to the point of me feeling physically ill. My guess is as good as anyone’s, but I think it’s safe to say my assumption is correct: I’d rather be miserable and have Avery in my life than not have him in my life at all. That’s fucked up. That’s love.

As for Avery, he says he knew from the minute we first spoke that I was the girl he was to spend the rest of his life with, and, according to him, he's giving me time to make my own decision about the entire ordeal. He told me he loved me after two months of dating, but I finally let down my guard and believed he meant it when I woke up one morning and he was just staring at me with a goofy smile on his face. He wakes up a half hour before I do, goes to eat breakfast, then wakes me up so we can shower, or so I thought. For some reason that morning I woke up about 10 minutes after his alarm went off, and there he was, propped up on one arm with his head resting in his hand, his other hand gently stroking my hair, staring straight at me. Sure, that’s reminiscent of some kind of stalker freak who wants to add me to his charm bracelet of previous kills, but when I found out that this was his morning habit-to wake up and admire me for a moment-I absolutely melted, and so did everyone of my reservations about him.

I told this all to Levi who is pondering proposing to his girlfriend but isn't sure. Like I said, Avery is merely giving me time to make my decision and four years into it I still flip flop. The difference between Levi and I is that I don’t flip flop on whether I want to spend my life with Avery, I’m certain that I do, I flip flop on whether or not marriage is the answer to that. Levi is unsure of whether he wants to be with his girlfriend forever and my advice to him was not to. If you really have to think about it and the idea of it flip flops in your mind from being a totally awesome idea to a totally horrible one, then it's not meant to be. Having your doubts and your fears is one thing, but being unable to come to a final determination regarding a matter of the heart? I'd say that's a deal breaker.

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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/30/2007 11:58:00 AM
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6/23/07

Meep Meep

I recently read an article that recommends "children" who are around 100lbs to be in a child seat for their safety. Aside from my natural inclination to roll my eyes and hark back to the days when newborn babies didn't even have car seats and they lived just fine, I have to feel a bit strange because according to that article, I should be in a fucking car seat. No, I'm not a child, although I act like one, but at 5'6'' and 102lbs, I'm about the size of a child who, apparently, should be driven around in a car seat for my own safety.

Yes, I know. I'm disgustingly skinny. There's no sugar coating it and there's certainly no way around it.

I also know to never let the words "I'm fat" fall out from my mouth around any female whatsoever, unless she's smaller than me and even then it always just launches into this diatribe of all the things the other woman is insecure about and shifts into a tournament of compliment fishing, which I suck at by the way. I'm not saying I'll never say the words "I feel fat," but feeling fat and thinking you are fat are taken in very different ways.

What irks the shite out of me is how people do look at you when you say anything about your physique as if being naturally Ethiopian thin absolves you from having any self-conscious feelings about your body. Sure, I don't look at a 300lb woman and long for the copious amount of rolls she has coming from places I had no idea humans even stored fat, like wrists, but I do look at a woman whom is my height and around 140lbs and has a shape to her. You'd kill to be a size 0, I'd kill to have hips and breasts that aren't reminiscent of thumbtacks sitting in a wall.

I'd kill to look healthy, because for as much as I eat and as healthy as I am {I am an avid kayaker, surfer, and snowboarder afterall}, most people look at me and think eating disorder. I can thank Nicole Richie and her skeleton crew for that assumption and the now omnipresent magnifying glass surrounding shapeless, disgustingly-skinny, women, but it's rather obnoxious having people look at you with total envy, because they want to be your size, or total disgust, because they assume after you finish your meal you'll be going to the restroom to see it for yet another time.

Oh, and now I'm supposed to be in a car seat.

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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/23/2007 02:00:00 PM
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6/18/07

Mensies.

Okay, I have a serious question:
Are the signs in the women's bathroom that state "DO NOT FLUSH SANITARY NAPKINS. ONLY FLUSH TOILET PAPER." really necessary?

How stupid of a woman do you have to be to actually flush that menstration diaper you've been wearing? I have $20 riding on the fact the person who runs the company I work for is a man, because no woman would post that kind of sign on the front door of the women's bathroom, on the front of each stall, right above the toilet paper dispenser, and just in case you missed it, right between the sinks.

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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/18/2007 06:42:00 PM
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6/13/07

Disneyland!

Ladies and Gents, it is official. Oh yes! I am now an American citizen. That's right! I now join the ranks of the stereotypically morbidally obese, idiotic, geographically challenged of you's guys.

Do you know what else it means? It means I now also join the ranks of the African American population. I know you're sitting there with a slight furrow in thine brow because those little boxes one checks deal with race; however, that doesn't change the fact that I probably have much more right to check that box than the majority of individuals who do check it. Afterall, I did spend 14 years of my life actually living in Africa, so I have the "African" portion completely covered, and my reciept of citizenship and a US passport affirm the "American" part. Put it together, and what do you have? African American.

With this power, I will be animating for Disney by the end of the year. Woot!

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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/13/2007 03:32:00 PM
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6/5/07

Boredom at its finest.

Why is it those days that you have nothing to do at work always turn out to be on those same days you want a lot to do at work to make the time pass quicker? It's only Tuesday, this week is dragging by slower than any flight I've ever been on, and I'm patiently awaiting Friday to take a flight, that will drag almost as slowly as this week is to visit my little brother, Levi, in Chicago for some brother-sister bonding over a whole hell of a lot of booze. Bring the dop for the dronkies! It'll be one hell of a babbelas flight home, oy!

That doesn't change the fact I'm bored out of my mind here, and still have about eight hours left to sit here, so what better way to pass my time than to make use of free art supplies? I seem to be on this sadistic, cute, cuddly animal kick, but I smaak it. Click on them to see the larger version.







We also got a few cool shots for the band. Once again, click to enlarge.










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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/05/2007 07:44:00 AM
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6/3/07

View Harrooo

I'm not sure what is more disturbing, the fact I just ate an entire pint of Ben'n'Jerry's Chubby Hubby ice cream, an entire box of girls scout cookies, and a king size Twix, or that my mum actually called to ask me how to use lube. In her mind she thinks sexual education actually was education in the ways of having good sex, and not what it is in reality: a way to scare you out of ever letting a penis/vagina come near you and a crash course in how to place a condom on a banana. I hear they ejaculate something mighty.

Regardless, my mother asked me how to use lube to maximize her pleasure during the diddy because my father got a few Viagra from my grandfather who recently just got married.

All these mental images are in two words: not cool. Somebody hold me.

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Brought to you by Mistress Empyrean at 6/03/2007 06:10:00 PM
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