the state of me

Just because I haven't written anything since July 3, here I am.

I keep pondering what I wrote last time and it seems dreadfully depressing. I can't believe I wrote it! What a horrible admission.

My other thought was that if it's not arthritis that makes boys seemingly so uninterested, it's something inherent about me, my personality, my character and that's a much worse thought to have to deal with.

So I won't for now.

*smile*

I love this Avril Lavigne CD.

Is it enough to love? Is it enough to breathe? Somebody rip my heart out and leave my here to bleed. Is it enough to die? Somebody save my life. I'd rather be anything but ordinary...
Avril Lavigne, "Anything But Ordinary", track 8

posted by Alissa @ 10:42 PM

Why do I always think I am so brilliant at 6 in the morning?

When I woke up this morning at 6 (I don't get up at 6, I just wake up, sometimes need to go to the bathroom, but I always just lay there and think until I go back to sleep) I thought about last night at the bar and how TBWLDFM treats me the same way he treats everyone. It's not a bad way to be treated--don't get me wrong--he's a great guy. But it's a disappointment because I want him to treat me the way T treats E. (Sorry for the repetition of the word "treat.") T puts his arm around E and E leans against T. I can't figure out why this doesn't happen to me with any tiny bit of ease, without major effort, without stress and what I always feel to be much "behind the scenes" manipulation.

Here's what I think. This is all I can come up with, this is what I always come back to.

I'm not one of these girls who boys look at as girlfriend material. I am one of these girls who boys get to know and see as friend material. And the only, the only reason I can think of is that I have a disability.

(Man, I hate that word. I have arthritis. I don't know what the hell disability implies, I don't even know what arthritis implies to people who have no experience with arthritis, or whose only experience is a grandparent with arthritis. I always thought arthritis sounded bony. That means something to me. Does it mean anything to you?)

So I have this disability and until I am proven otherwise, I believe it sticks me in the friend category. I don't know what to do about it, how to change it, or even, really, if it's true. But I keep coming back to it, it's like a, what's the word I'm looking for? Maybe recurring. It's just a recurring thought. And I really don't like it. I feel like I should be more grown up than that. Or like I should have accepted it by now.

But I haven't. And that's why I keep hoping for something with someone and right now the someone is TBWLDFM.

posted by Alissa @ 9:00 PM

Yesterday my dear, wonderful friend E. helped me and my mom move more of my stuff from one apartment to the new one. I have too much stuff. I hate my stuff. I am an uber-American who has so much stuff that it overwhelms me and controls me and depresses me a little, to tell you the truth. Of course, I probably hate my stuff more because currently I am air-conditioning-less. My mom said she heard an Italian say on NPR that Americans have to be comfortable all the time. Okay, it's slightly embarrassing, but yeah, damnit, I do. I hate to be hot. I goddamn hate it. My eyelids sweat and my forehead and my temples and my scalp--it all sweats. I am one giant sweat gland. I am disgusting. And I hate to be a really ugly American (really, I do) but goddamnit, I've been to Italy and I bet you the citizens of that country wouldn't protest a little central a/c. And if the American dream can be anything, can't it be to live in a perfectly climate controlled state so you can live, work and love better?

Oh wow, I can still see all the way up here from my soapbox.

And the ever expanding rash on my legs from my new medicine doesn't help my mood much either.

And the fact that TBWLDFM still doesn't seem to understand that me touching his leg and arm a lot (I mean a lot--three beers on a completely empty stomach makes the leg touching happen) means I am interested in more than friendship--that doesn't help my mood either. (I lost track of where that sentence started.) Although I love being his friend because he is so so so funny and so nice and sweet and so very, very cute...

Sigh.

And I am a giant hypocrite. But do I have to get into that now?

posted by Alissa @ 12:21 PM

I am moving...that's all I can say. Wait, I can also say, I hate moving.

posted by Alissa @ 11:25 PM

Tonight The Boy Who Lives Downstairs From Me (let's call him TBWLDFM) and I went to a mutual friend's birthday party together. I met him downstairs. I was supposed to knock on his door at 8:30 and I did. But he didn't hear me knock which only matters because I didn't get to see his apartment. I had to come back upstairs and call him to tell him I was ready. We met in the lobby and when I stepped off the elevator he (I'm not even kidding here) took my breathe away. He looked so handsome I felt like something reverberated through my body. He always looks cute, TBWLDFM, but tonight in a dress shirt and tie with hair that's asking me to run my fingers through it, he truly looked gorgeous.

More to come. (I'm exhausted and I have to move tomorrow.)

posted by Alissa @ 1:54 AM