Some Scattered Thoughts

Sometimes when I write, I try to keep a single thought or pattern in my head to give my piece some flow. This will not be one of those entries. 

Right now, i am very, very tired. I can't sleep lately. I have been prescribing myself some much-needed doses of Tylenol P.M and/or Nyquil, and still, I keep finding myself in that not-quite-sleeping stage at 2, 3, and 4 in the morning. I don't really know why I'm suffering so bad from insomnia; things have been fairly good lately, and as far as I know, I don't feel superstressed about any upcoming thing.

Yesterday I had a great day. I scored myself a writing gig blogging about the Red Sox. (I'll post the link later). It's not a financial blessing, but a career-oriented one. I think it will be a good way for me to once again put my loud mouth over the internet, and it will be a good way for me to expose my feelings towards the Red Sox, since most people I know are unaware that I actually enjoy sports. PLus, the man who runs the site sent me a very complimentary email about my professionalism and writing abilities, which made me feel like maybe my life can go somewhere fun.

After that, my mom told me, in a voice a little rude for my taste, to wash the dishes. (I really, really hate washing dishes, by the way. It makes me quite nauseas actually). Reluctantly but obediently, I walked over to the sink to find not a stack of dirty plates and forks, but a pair of Motley Crue tickets for St. Patricks Day! I love my parents SO much- but at times like that, I really just feel like I don't express that enough. 

Today was not as much fun as yesterday. I had to go to the dentist this morning where the sadistic hygienist cleaned my teeth, CSI-style. Then I came home to pack up my things before moving back to school. Bouncing back to and from school is such a pain; I have SO much stuff, and there is no convenient way to get it all back in the building without punishing my arms and back. After that, I am going to a show where 2 of the bands are made up of some of my fabulous friends. (Go to myspace.com/Hivesmasher and myspace.com/drivebybukkake to check them out). Hopefully I'll get the chance to take some pretty pictures for them.

Unfortunately, I have to continue packing. I'm already  2 dufflebags and 1 suitcase in.

Why I'll (Most Likely) End Up Alone

So I had a self-scrutinizing epitome (those are always the best kinds, aren't they?) today, and I've come to realize that there's a good chance I am going to end up alone. 

You see, to be honest, I have never experienced love. I have never had my heart broken or thought that I've been in love. The worst part of it all is that I have told many, many people that I love them, when I knew, and I always knew, that I really did not. A lot of people would pity me for saying this but- and I am being completely honest here- a part of me wants to have my heart broken. I want to experience that can't-eat can't-sleep reach-for-the-moon-over-the-stars type of love I hear about songs, or see in movies, or stand back and watch in my friends. Even though I am absolutely positive being brokenhearted will be one of the worst feelings ever, I feel like it is just something I really need to experience. The metaphorical song "Tango: Maureen" from Rent, where the tango represents love, explains it best:

"When you're dancing her dance, 

You don't stand a chance

Her grip of romance will make you fall

So you think "might as well"

Ill just dance a tango to hell, 

At least I'll have tangoed at all"

So, needless to say, I am ready to fall in love. Now I don't want this to come across as I am looking for a boyfriend and/or dying for a relationship. I feel quite the opposite, actually. (My "never wanting a relationship again" attitude might be preventing this all from happening to me). All I am saying is that I am ready to fall in love with some one. 

I am ready to put my heart on the line. 

Here is where my hypocriticalness comes into play: I have "requirements" for who I will let myself fall in love with, and they are completely contradicting statements. 

Because I am so sure and adamant that I have never myself experienced love, I can't stand it when people around me swear that they've been in love and it wasn't. I know that an outsider supposedly can't really see what two people feel, but I can guarantee that most people I know have no idea what being in love is like. They falsely claim love for two reasons: it was their first real relationship, or the one rare one they didn't have the upper hand in. So because I myself have never tasted the sweet nectar of romance, and I can't stomach people who think they have, I am DEAD set on NEVER letting myself fall in love with some one who's been there before. In a recent relationship of mine, my boyfriend told me before we dated that his ex girlfriend broke his heart and he was very much in love with her. Of course, he would go on to say that...drumroll, please..."I didn't know what love was until I met you", but from those very words I knew it would never work. Maybe I am over thinking it, but I think I am a decent person who deserves 100% of some one. My heart is big, full and heavy, and I need the person who takes it to have enough closet space for it. Simply put, if another ex has already been stowed away, my stuff just won't fit, and it just won't work. 

Now here comes my wonderful contradiction: I refuse to love some one who has claimed love before, but I would NEVER let myself fall for some one who has never had a serious relationship. This plays into my previous statement about hating people who think their first lover means real love. I really, really hate that- I just can't stress it enough. That being said, I refuse to be that person who makes that pathetic loser think he's in love when really, it's just called growing up. 

So, in the end, all I really want is fall in love. I want some one who will emotionally sweep me off my feet. His heart has to be fresh and new; if he has even a scratch or a dent, I will not take him home.  He has to be experienced, so he won't expect me to lay the path for future relationships. He has to understand that it takes practice to make perfect, and therefore, early relationships can't be actual love. He needs to have had enough relationships in his past so I know his feelings aren't just sloppy emotional virginity, but few enough that he has never fell really in love before. He needs to be man enough to acknowledge that my views on love are ridiculous and hypocritical, but sensitive enough to have the patience to deal with him. He needs to appreciate me and be really ready to take me to a place where the only ways out are marriage or heartbreak. He has to love me for me.

Oh, and he needs to play guitar, too. =)

The Game

They say don't hate the player, hate the game, but I've gotta admit, sometimes I love the game.

The game drives me, like most women (and maybe some men) crazy. I hate waiting for a call, or in this case, text. (I know that those of you who read He's Just Not That Into You have some predetermined notions in your head, but this situation is not like that, I swear). 

I hate missing him. I hate not knowing what I am actually missing. 

I hate not knowing what comes next, and I hate being stuck somewhere between having a crush and feeling crushed. 

The game makes me tired. It makes me weary and skeptical and sometimes miserable. 

But when it's all over and done, winning the game just feels so damn good, it's SO worth the play.

 

Providence

So I just got back from a hockey game. 

UMass Lowell played Providence College and lost 3-2. Not only are we their first win of the season, but their goalie started yesterday. Yesterday!!! And we still couldn't pull our act together. 

I hate losing. It's just a feeling I do not enjoy, and even though it is an inevitable part of life, it just really sucks. 

At least we got home from Providence okay, the snow was coming down really hard out there.

Man Hands

  You can tell so much about a man from just his hands.

          If they are rugged and bruised up, you know he works hard, probably with wood or metal or electricity.

          If they are clean and tidy, you know he’s a guy who prefers to take an intellectual path rather than a physical one.

          If they are big hands, you know he gets a lot of judgments about what’s in his pants.

          And if they are tiny, you know he gets questioned a lot about what’s in his pants.

          If they are used to play sports, you know he is competitive and you’ll never quite be his first priority.

          If they are used to play an instrument, you know he is arrogant and will never be sober enough to actually consider you a part of his life.

           If you couldn’t pick his hands out of a crowd of people, you haven’t cared enough to engrave them, or him, in your head.

          If there is something distinctive about his hands- a scar, a tattoo, a memory- it will be damn near impossible to remove him from your head.

          If he holds your hand and you immediately want to drop it, you probably should.

          And if he holds your hand and whether they are too small, too big, too rugged, too clean, too dirty, too generic or too personal, yours still melts inside his palm, you probably should never let go.  

Ugh

So I know the point of a blog is to rant/tell the world what's going on in your mind, but I honestly feel like I can't do that here.

I am fairly positive that people I want to write about here will never read this blog anyway, but I am scared that broadcasting what is really going on my mind will do some Harriet-the-Spy-type damage that I do not want to be held responsible for. 

I can't pinpoint exactly what emotion is dominating me right now. Sad because the weather is preventing me from eating delicious soup with Lynchie at her house? Tired because I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night? Excited to see some Lowell folks tomorrow? 

I'm not sure how I feel about anything. 

Or anyone, to be completely honest.

Sympathy

"Sympathy" by the Goo Goo Dolls is one of my favorite songs ever, and for good reason.

For some reason, I always feel sorry. 

Sometimes it''s to my family for not being perfect and sometimes it's to my friends, for not having all the right answers.

 Sometimes it's to complete strangers with mental disabilities, and sometimes it to my credit card for physically abusing it. 

In movies, when the bad guy gets what he has coming to him, I feel bad. When the a foreigner messes up my order at Dunkin Donuts and I get mad, even if it's just for a few seconds, I feel bad. 

I'm the type of girl who apologizes for not answering the phone when some one calls, and sends sympathy emails to potentially-inappropriate people when a death occurs.

I know that empathy is usually a good quality to have, but sometimes I wonder if my overly strong sense of it gets me in trouble. 

Most of the time, I feel so bad hurting some one that I hide the truth. This makes me a liar, and even though I am a liar with good intentions, I am still a liar. I hope to work on this. One of my New Year's Resolutions is to be more honest, without worrying too much about making some one feel bad. Everyone deserves to know the truth, even if it hurts. I don't want to censor my feelings ever again, because I'm tired of feeling so bad all the time.

I started tonight. 

I really hope that in this battle between the Truth and Truly Trying To Help, the truth wins.