"the title is a metaphor for when you're not doing well. But it's also a song about redemption and realizing that you're worth something; that you're special and not special at the same time."
Trying to sleep and listening to this song when i realized i needed to write some stuff down. I didn't even know what song it was or what it was about, but i had already half written this post before i even opened my computer. I'm trying to be poetic but it's more than likely a coincidence. I've been brewing this for a few days.
Last week i fucked someone. It had been over a year. I fucked someone in an open loft style bedroom, while my friend lay half awake (and eventually had to walk away) in the bed beside me. I fucked someone in the upstairs of a chalet with 4 guys hanging out below. i fucked him because he went for it. i'm so ashamed about the whole situation (not the fucking exactly but everything that went with it). I've never been the girl who got all the attention from boys. I've never been the girl who really got any attention from guys. I've got a string of painful flings, but i could never quite figure out if i liked them and we hooked up, or we hooked up and i liked them. Meeting my sister's boyfriend's friends opened up a whole new window for me. Right away there was one i liked. He had a girlfiend and they eventually broke up. Him and i started texting. Every week, every few days, almost everyday. Until it stopped. I could almost feel the exact moment where i knew i wouldn't get any more messages from him. Nothing happened between us and i tried to get over it. Hurt, but moving on. You'd think after enough fuck and chucks, and me being overly invested in someone who didn't give a shit about me, it would get easier. Being dropped like that. But it doesn't really, and it just works to bring you down a little bit more. i'd felt the chemistry (sexual tension) building between me and another friend. A few months later and i've got him in my bed. We didn't fuck, but we would have if he hadn't drank so much. i didn't even like him, he was just there. On the sunday morning last week i woke up and felt like the town school bus, where everyone gets a ride. Now that i've gone through two of his closest friends, i'm back on trying to make something work with the original guy. It was always him. Before i hooked up with friend #1, i was so hesitant because i was worried that if somehting ever changed with oginal guy, how could he ever see me the same way. At the same time i didn't want to be the pathetic girl who waited around for him, who got kicked to curb and pulled back in, and put up with it. I haven't gotten pulled back in, but i'm trying to.
A few months ago, my friend (jokingly?) threw out the rhetorical question that maybe i was asexual. Not knowing this was an actual thing, or what it even was, i had to look into it. Basically it's not having a sexual attraction to anyone. At 22 years old, i can probably count easily on my fingers the number of crushes i've had. Zero boyfriends. I rarely find myself attracted to anyone. But sometimes i do. In the past it was anyone who paid me attention. No, it still is. I don't think it would solve anything, identifying myself like that. I don't even know if i am that. I don't want to box myself into this label because i'm feeling sorry for myself and haven't had a crush in a while. What would it solve if i was.But now i've gotten it so up in my head, that it's all i can think about. I've never had an orgasm. I never thought it was that weird until about a year ago, when my friend was so shocked and full of disbelief that she offered to help. I haven't had sex with someone i actually cared about ever. The pas two times i'v done it, i've found myself bored and waiting for it to be over. Do i not enjoy sex, or do i not enjoy the people i'm having it with.
Saturday 7 June 2014
Thursday 29 May 2014
A minor meltdown
Happy rainy Wednesday. I'm writing at work today, which is probably inefficient use of my time, but I'm not overly concerned. I'm stuck in a funk This weekend i was supposed to go to Banff and my sister and my friend both decided to cancel, leaving me feeling too uncomfortable to go with a group of guys i haven't even seen since march. Disappointed, and a little pissed, but i deal with it.
I hate my job. I've decided I'm actually going to quit. But first i need to find something else. I showed my mother my resume, for some input and help tweaking. First, understand that i don't often share personal things with my family or really anyone. And yes it's just a resume, but it's my work history, that i created, and so it's still personal. She continued to go through it saying things like "this is so bad you should just delete it an start again" and laughing at the way i had written job descriptions and tasks. Now further background: At work a few months ago, i completed things personality 'mapping' training. You answer some questions and they completely define your strengths, weaknesses, communication style, etc. Very cool. And mine came out almost frighteningly accurate.
Alexandria's possible weaknesses:
Which I'm fully aware is a fabulous way to address my issues [sarcasm intensifies]
I hate my job. I've decided I'm actually going to quit. But first i need to find something else. I showed my mother my resume, for some input and help tweaking. First, understand that i don't often share personal things with my family or really anyone. And yes it's just a resume, but it's my work history, that i created, and so it's still personal. She continued to go through it saying things like "this is so bad you should just delete it an start again" and laughing at the way i had written job descriptions and tasks. Now further background: At work a few months ago, i completed things personality 'mapping' training. You answer some questions and they completely define your strengths, weaknesses, communication style, etc. Very cool. And mine came out almost frighteningly accurate.
Alexandria's possible weaknesses:
- Unduly affected or influenced by other's opinions
- Feels victimised or targeted
- may take criticism of her work personally
- has difficulty sharing concerns and reservations except with close and trusted peers
Which I'm fully aware is a fabulous way to address my issues [sarcasm intensifies]
Saturday 17 May 2014
Writing is supposed to be therapeutic right ?
A have a lot of feelings. Sometimes i'm the girl from mean girls who shows up in the gym and just wants everyone to get along.
This is a warning that my first post, and potentially every one that follows, will be completely disorganized (as if the fact that my warning comes as the second line was already and indicator)
It's been one year since i moved away from ontario, where i spent the past three years at school. I spent almost the entire first year crying spontaneously and hoping to move home. When i left i was in such a frenzy of getting out the door and starting my road trip with one of my roommates, i didn't even give myself the opportunity to really process what was happening. I had also spent the entire previous month being passively aggressively furious at one of my roommates/ closest friends. On top of trying to finish and undergrad thesis, sort out and plan a trip to Africa, and just generally not fail my final semester.
After that, after Africa, after Amsterdam, i was home. Calgary for good. Work started, work sucked. In September it didn't feel as weird as i thought it would to not be going back. It was hard though, being back. When i left for waterloo, i kind of left my life here. I grew as a person in those three years than i had in quite a while. Everyone did, all my highschool friends who went our separate ways and tried to keep in touch through the occasional Skype and summer break. Three years of changing and growing led to knowing lots of people in Calgary, and being close with almost none of them. This thought was terrifying as i tried to settle into my new post-grad, adult life, complete with adult job and all the shit that goes with it.
I figured... i don't really know what i figured. That somehow i could push myself again to become an exciting person who tries new things, and goes out of her way to find new experiences in the city she's always lived in. Who isn't afraid to go to random events and try new things alone.
But i didn't. And i'm not.
I moved out of my parents house after three months of being home. I moved downtown to live in mission/lower mount royal/ cliff bungalow (a map is no help in determining which of these areas i actually live in) with a girl who posted a roommate ad on kijiji. She's fine, we're not close. I sold my car. I started paying my own phone bill. I thought all this would be my big push to get out and explore myself in this city. Mostly i sit at home and watch Netflix.
I don't know what i'm planning to accomplish with a blog. At night when i try to sleep i find myself narrating my life, so that seemed like an indication that maybe i should start writing stuff down. I have no close friends, and i don't want to pay for a shrink. Here it goes.
This is a warning that my first post, and potentially every one that follows, will be completely disorganized (as if the fact that my warning comes as the second line was already and indicator)
It's been one year since i moved away from ontario, where i spent the past three years at school. I spent almost the entire first year crying spontaneously and hoping to move home. When i left i was in such a frenzy of getting out the door and starting my road trip with one of my roommates, i didn't even give myself the opportunity to really process what was happening. I had also spent the entire previous month being passively aggressively furious at one of my roommates/ closest friends. On top of trying to finish and undergrad thesis, sort out and plan a trip to Africa, and just generally not fail my final semester.
After that, after Africa, after Amsterdam, i was home. Calgary for good. Work started, work sucked. In September it didn't feel as weird as i thought it would to not be going back. It was hard though, being back. When i left for waterloo, i kind of left my life here. I grew as a person in those three years than i had in quite a while. Everyone did, all my highschool friends who went our separate ways and tried to keep in touch through the occasional Skype and summer break. Three years of changing and growing led to knowing lots of people in Calgary, and being close with almost none of them. This thought was terrifying as i tried to settle into my new post-grad, adult life, complete with adult job and all the shit that goes with it.
I figured... i don't really know what i figured. That somehow i could push myself again to become an exciting person who tries new things, and goes out of her way to find new experiences in the city she's always lived in. Who isn't afraid to go to random events and try new things alone.
But i didn't. And i'm not.
I moved out of my parents house after three months of being home. I moved downtown to live in mission/lower mount royal/ cliff bungalow (a map is no help in determining which of these areas i actually live in) with a girl who posted a roommate ad on kijiji. She's fine, we're not close. I sold my car. I started paying my own phone bill. I thought all this would be my big push to get out and explore myself in this city. Mostly i sit at home and watch Netflix.
I don't know what i'm planning to accomplish with a blog. At night when i try to sleep i find myself narrating my life, so that seemed like an indication that maybe i should start writing stuff down. I have no close friends, and i don't want to pay for a shrink. Here it goes.
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