Sunday, February 08, 2004

The Crap on My Mind

[I am from the future. No, really, I am. It’s like several hours later than you, where I’m from. I am warning you that this post is LONG LONG LONG. It may not have an end. If you begin to read this, you may be sucked into a long, hollow tunnel of despair from which there is no egress. Think of the longest object you know. This post is longer than that.]

I have dinner with Kit tomorrow. We’re supposed to have a Talk and I’ve been kind of dreading it since we made the plans. The thing is, I just sort of got fed up with the whole thing before I left for Italy. Ever since I moved out, I have bent over backwards trying to prove to Kit that I want to be friends with her for her, not for what she can do for me.

The problem is that I owe her a massive amount of money. I am ashamed to admit it. Truthfully, I never intended to use her or take advantage of her. It just kind of happened, and then went on for too long. I was a little stunned to hear how much I owed her, because while I knew it was a lot, I didn’t think it was THAT much. I felt so sorry. I felt like a sponge, a bitch, and a total user. And I don’t think I’m like that. I’m actually pretty giving and I enjoy doing things for others because I enjoy seeing other people happy.

I don’t think we ever came to any sort of definite conclusion about the debt, and I felt like it was left kind of ambiguously. I do intend on paying her back, but didn’t figure I could really tackle it until I was out of school and with a real job. So because money is not something I have a surplus of currently, I have been trying to give her what I do have – myself. I’ve tried to repay some of that debt by offering to do things for her, making dinner because she doesn’t cook, hanging out, whatever.

And I want to do these things for her. If she’d let me.. but she never did take me up on the offer of dinner and she never seems to want to do anything with me. I would probably lick her shoes if she asked me to, I’m so eager for her to see what I’ve been trying to show her for months. That I love her, HER.. her amazing charm, wit, knowledge, personality. Not just her stability and generosity. That she matters to me, that she’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.

I’ve tried. I really have. But like.. she hasn’t wanted to see it. No matter what I did or said, the number of serious talks we had, she just kept up this wall. She has this group of friends that’s she’s had since the beginning of time and one of them never liked me, so I’m sure she’s been hearing some anti-Alena stuff from her. And frankly, I guess I don’t blame her. I look like a complete fucking ass.

I introduced Kit and Mikey and they were inseparable for a while. He’d tell me she called him or they went out to lunch or whatever, and I would just stare at him in stupefaction. She never, ever called me. If I wanted to see her, I had to be the one calling. Then when we all were out together, I would watch her with the people we were introducing her to, and she was her old gregarious self. It was dawning on me that she treated strangers more warmly than me, so obviously I wasn’t imagining things.

I’ll bang my head up against a wall for a while, but eventually I just come to a certain point where it becomes frustrating, and I give up. So sometime before I went on vacation, I’d basically tossed in the towel. I figured if she wanted to talk to me or see me, she could call me. I knew she wouldn’t.

And she didn’t. I didn’t talk to her for two weeks before I left, and didn’t talk to her when I got back. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her I was leaving, but I was kind of over it and didn’t feel like informing her.

And then over the holidays, I just kind of came to peace with everything. I figured the friendship was really over and that I should get over it already. And since I was already kind of frustrated and tired of bruising my head, I finally didn’t find it that difficult to let go of Kit.

This is the kicker. It is so tremendously difficult for me to let go, in general. Much less someone important to me, someone I love and admire. When I finally let someone into the Inner Sanctum of Me, I have found that I will go through hell or high water, often extending quite a bit to make up for the lack of enthusiasm on the part of whomever. I know this isn’t healthy and I know I waste a lot of energy. But I’m loyal and damn it, the people important to me are important.

I have hung on to my friendship with Kit even though it has been really unfun because Kit is important to me. Also because I feel like a tool and I feel that I owe her to make it up to her, however I can. So to let go of her was a really huge step for me. Because when I disengage, it’s a big deal.

Mikey dragged me out the weekend after my return from Italy. I was in the mindset of not wanting to talk to Kit, and damn, there she was in the bar. Fuck. So I was weird with her, because I was over it, but then I was surprised because she was really nice to me. It threw me off. I guess I’d been expecting that same detached manner, but she was all normal and friendly with me again. So I started to wonder if maybe things weren’t fixable, after all.

Then I had the good chat with Mikey where he suggested a practical solution. Fast-forward to now. I’m hoping to apply it tomorrow evening.

Actually, I’m really glad I wrote this all out because instead of dreading it like I have been, I feel really good. I have a plan of attack, and I think she might understand it this time. If it doesn’t work out on the friendship level after this, then I can, with good conscience, be able to say I gave everything I could. And let go cleanly.

On a completely different note, but also on my mind lately, is that I’ve developed a paranoia about whether I really am as irritating and annoying as I think I am. Part of this stems from an observation on my personality, which is that no matter how much I hate it about myself and want so very much to change, I am my favorite topic of conversation.

It’s true. In everyday conversation, just about everything I say references me or my experiences in one way or another. I see this about myself and I have no idea how to change it. I try to avoid statements that involve me and I swear to god, it’s practically impossible. I HATE THIS!!! How the hell do I get out of this habit? Heh, maybe I shouldn’t have dropped that Interpersonal Communication class after all, because I sure as hell need to learn how to converse with other people!

It’s not that I can’t have conversations with people, because I can look back at good conversations with people I really click with, where it’s an exchange of information and it’s not all about me. So I know I can do it. I just cannot figure out why, when I’m having random conversations with people, I have to talk about myself so damned much.

I mean, I can easily converse with people who possess an equal or greater knowledge in something(s) than I, whatever it is we’re talking about. It also helps if I’m comfortable with the person, so that the silences don’t feel awkward and I don’t feel pressured to come up with something to talk about. Cause if I can take my time, I can think of good things to talk about.

And like I said, you know, I totally observe my behavior and I do try to stop it. And then what usually happens is an uncomfortable silence while I wrack my brain for something, anything to say. Feeling like an ass because I can’t come up with anything, and hating that my only choice is to make some stupid reference to myself. I mean, sometimes I quickly think of something unrelated to me to comment on, but it’s a struggle.

I feel terrible writing this because I absolutely hate it about myself. Hate, hate, hate. Like, if I knew of a support group for people to talk way too much about themselves, I would SO be in it tomorrow. I’d probably camp outside, just to be the first in. I don’t even think I’m a bad person, I just have this massive personality flaw I want to fix.

I don’t know what to do. I recently have noticed a lot of people who don’t talk to me as much as they used to and the paranoid part of me attributes that to them being tired of listening to me. Like someone I used to consider a friend kind of dismissed me the other night when I said hi and wanted to chat. I was like, Wow, okay… and you know, my fragile ego took a big hit.

So I’m walking around these days and every time I open my mouth, I have this soundtrack running in the back of my head going, “Youaresoannoyingyouareannoyingyou’reannoyingggggggggggggg…”

Ugh. It’s hard. I don’t know what to do. So you know, if anyone has any suggestions, my email address is somewhere at the top of the page and I honestly, truly would love to hear them. And because this is an honest plea for advice, I would like to point out that it would be REALLY bad karma if you were to use this opportunity for self-betterment to flame me.

Besides, I beat myself up enough for all of the world combined.

On the flip side, I would also like to say that I still retain some shreds of self-esteem. I know that overall I’m not a bad person, I just have to work on this problem right now, which is why it’s finally being called to my attention. I am trying hard, but I feel pretty roadbloacked. I think I’ve just been doing what I can to curb it while waiting for some sort of sign or catalyst for change. But instead of a catalyst, it’s just all coming more and more to a head with me feeling rather clueless about the whole thing. Kit mentioned it. I now understand past comments people have made. Mikey pointed out that I am exactly a female version of him, and it irritated me a little because it’s true.. he is all about Mikey, and I am all about Alena.


I say irritated, but only mildly, because he is Mikey, my gay boy, and I love him with all my heart. So he gets away with a lot of shit by me. And I accept him for who he is, even if the two of us sure make a self-centered pair. I’m not sure how two people who are so narcissistic can get along and adore each other as Mikey and I do, but I am not going to question it.

I know this is getting so tremendously long, and if you’re still with me, OMG, I <3 you, cause you are brave. But I just have to keep spewing, so you have my apologies now.

There is no doubt in my mind that I was totally meant to cross paths with Mikey, because he has truly been a godsend, and I think we connect in that deep, soul-connection kinda way. He’s been a big catalyst for me as far as my looks and self-esteem. I’m like lightyears beyond who I was even five years ago. I don’t know if you’d told me back then I’d be free that I’d have believed it.

So I dunno. Maybe my sudden ‘coming out’ under Mikey’s guidance has gotten me a little maladjusted. I mean, I was like 215+ pounds 2+ years ago. I’m something like 160 now. In between, living with Kit, I gained 15 pounds, then lost it when I moved out. So I count the 55 pound difference, plus the 15 pounds I lost a second time.

Total of 70 pounds.

Yeah, man! 70 fucking pounds! I lost like an 8-year-old kid! I’m so damn proud, I want the whole world to know! Even if I didn’t really do anything. Not consciously, anyway. And somehow, without much thought, managed to do something years of therapy couldn’t; cure myself of my bizarre and intense relationship with food. When I told Mikey my story, and I got to the part where I said that after being sick one summer, I basically just didn’t really care about food anymore. I ate when I was hungry, and my appetite was small. Mikey quipped, “So you were just like, I ate-and-ate-and-ate-and-ate-and-ate-and-ate and now I’m done.” And, in a way, yeah. I guess.

The cause of that sickness that summer is not really a pretty part of my life. I was finally getting away from a two year stint in an extraordinarily fucked up relationship with a woman I now refer to as my psycho ex, and you know, I don't say it as a joke. There were copious and extreme amounts of mindfucking and manipulation and I was just so hungry to be loved that I just rolled over onto my back and let her have her way with me. That relationship fucked me the hell up. I mean, so much so that that deserves to be said again. The relationship fucked me THE HELL up.

Speaking of one of those rare times when I can be pushed over the edge (see topic in paragraphs below), the psycho ex and our roommate (and her fuckbuddy) can claim the fame of pushing me farther than I have ever gone before. Cause I’d just been fucked with WAY too long to sit by and take it any longer. And I’m more one for subversive revenge, because the devious streak in me enjoys setting the trap and watching it snap on its victim. So they never knew. But I did. Hahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

I feel like a fucking warrior, like when I joke and call myself Xena or Warrior Princess, you think I’m joking? Ha ha! Nobody when they see me know can even see this, the tiger I have hidden inside. They just see me now, the sometimes weird/goofy/obnoxious/annoying side effect of dealing with adjusting and tweaking and getting used to things as a result of living in a very different body. They see the ‘thin’ me, and that in one sense makes me right and normal. And now that I’ve had my makeover and look girly, I’m safe to flirt with. Before, when I was all me-with-no-help, the guys never flirted with me. Whatever. Just as long as they know they have no chance. Heh.

So yeah.. as my waistline diminishes, all that excess shit now goes to pad my new-found narcissism. Yeah, I definitely would never have described myself as that before. But I think I am now. Aaaargh. Make it stop!!

What really fueled my paranoia was tonight at work with my roommate, Alissa. Normally, I think Alissa get along very well.. we joke around and stuff and help each other out when needed. It’s usually a good partnership, and I usually enjoy working in a room with her. Well, she and I have been scheduled at the same time on Saturday night for at least a month and it’s come to be Saturday night means in Chianti with Alissa.

Now, when you’re with a certain person alone in a room with them repeatedly for weeks on end, you get to see them in a wide range of moods. Or maybe other people get to see me in a wide range of moods. Cause sometimes I’m all perky and energetic and fun, and other times I’m a bitter bitch from hell and then I alternate between being self-conscious about being too bitchy and whether people hate me, and blah blah, and being so bitter I hate the world and don’t care.

I was a fucking MESS last Saturday because god damn it, I get swamped with the family table and two other tables. My previous cheery veneer with Alissa was just not a priority as far as energy expenditure, and I probably was freaking out a little for a while. I know I’m freaky when I freak out. It's not a pretty sight. All people can do is just stay out of my way cause I’m in a totally different zone.

So yeah. The new section shit really sucks, because in the two-person room, we each get two tables and are supposed to split the family table. This is a really stupid idea for various reasons, but it basically screws me up all night. We’re supposed to split it, but usually the idea of that is ridiculous.. especially for something like the smaller groups they sometimes sit there when they have no other tables. So what we end up doing is alternating who takes the table because sharing a party of eight is kind of stupid.

But then what happens is they’ll sit a 16. Or one or all of your tables are high-maintenance. Or your one table that should have been fine for at least 10 more minutes so you can get the drinks out suddenly are done and want to cash out. It’s usually a serious joke of timing. You know, if it can be the worst time for events to occur, of course they will.

But going from two to two and a party just totally throws me off. Cause I go from being fairly cool with two tables and in a certain rhythm, and then when it’s my turn to take the family table, I suddenly have to get into this different groove of juggling the new things. So last Saturday, I was having a rough time, both with crappy customers/tips and not being able to get into any steady rhythm and basically feeling behind and rushed most of the time. Overall it sucked ass and both of us were totally stressed out, bitter, and miserable the entire time.

I mean, I know it sucked, but it was a bad night. At least so I thought, and just kind of buried it away with all the other shitty nights. So I thought nothing of it when I came to work again at 5 on Saturday to be in Chianti with Alissa.

I was kind of sick of being in that room because the sections suck and I wanted to be in a bigger room for a change, maybe with some different roommates. I mean, I like Alissa, but when you’re roommates with someone, especially constantly, what kind of night you’re going to have is based in good part on who you’re sharing a room with. Someone who annoys you, or who is lazy, or slow, or whatever.. that shit will drag your entire flow down and it can ruin a night, especially if the tips suck or the people are even more fuckwitty than usual, on top of it.

Alissa and I usually joked about always being roommates in that room every Saturday, and I didn’t think much of it. Well, last weekend was really fucking stressful, and when Alissa came in today, she came up to me and said she didn’t want any of that stressful drama shit from last week. I was like, okay, I don’t want that shit, either. Cool.

Well, I had a party of ten forced on me the moment I clocked on, and I had to take it by myself because Alissa was caught behind a car wreck caused by the snow and running late. I was like, okay, if I have to.. but told Angie very explicitly, If you seat me this party, do not seat me for at least ten minutes, fifteen would be better. She looked me in the eye and nodded, and then less than five minutes after seating the party of ten, the hosts lead me another table of four. I was in disbelief and was totally swamped and another server thankfully bore the burden of greeting them and getting them started with salad and bread, because there was no way I could have even gone over to that table. I had no chance.

And then on top of it, like two minutes later, they sat my third table!! At this point, I was so beyond totally swamped, totally overwhelmed, that I had a vision of throwing down my tray and walking out the front door. I just wanted to flee. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I mean what kind of braindead motherfucker would DO that to me, and also to the poor customers? I mean, it’s like.. "Yeah, we can get you a table, but we can’t guarantee you’ll ever see your server.”

You just don’t do that to us and to the customers. It’s messed up. And when they sat that third table, I was pushed so totally over the edge, everyone suddenly realized it was major alarm mode and they jumped in to offer to help. I went to Steve to tell him what happened and I was practically hysterical. I told him that someone needed to get that table, like RIGHT NOW, and I couldn’t be the one to do it. He thought that the hosts doing that to me was really fucked up, like that I shouldn’t be doing a party of ten by myself to begin with. I mean, my rommate blew me off when I went to talk to her. So I was totally doing it alone. And the fact that they sat two other tables right after kinda stumped him, too. But he found someone to take care of the table, and I was off again.

And I don’t really remember what happened after, other than the party of 10 was beyond infuriating in just about every way possible. You should have seen my pad, with all their various desires, modifications, and specifications covering the whole damn thing. And you know what, I worked really damn hard to fulfill their various whims and got every single thing right. The party was big enough to grat, sure, but I sometimes just want to bitchsmack cheap people who thwart the whole grat thing by keeping food/beverage costs low.

So yeah, the bill averaged to about $8 a person, before the grat. That’s fucking cheap, for a dinner out for ten people at a restaurant? My god. So the grat was only $14. And someone at the table kindly pointed out to the others that the tip was included, and they oohed and aahed and discussed that for a bit. I knew I was fucked.

Yeah, I got $16 and man, I worked for twice that, for sure. After that, I was stuck with the family table, which meant that I ran one four-person table and the 10-12 person table all night. Alissa was being really bitchy to me and at one point like totally dissed me to my face and was like, I told you I didn’t want any of this drama bullshit, so don’t come talk to me…

I was so in the weeds I didn’t even have time to process this. I was just like, Gah! Bitch! Fuck off! Gah! Breadsticks! Salad! Coke!

I couldn’t tell if her comments were joking or serious. I got the serious vibe, so it kind of bothered me. I mean, I like Alissa. We’ve always gotten along. So I think, anyway. I dunno, now I’m kind of wondering if she has always been annoyed by me and being my roommate constantly is just driving her nuts.

I just told her, You know, since I annoy you so much, I will just stop annoying you and stop talking to you.

And she said okay.

Don’t know if that’s a joke, but whatever. I don’t want anyone to have to be subjected to me any more than absolutely necessary if they don’t like me or find me annoying or whatever. But now that I’m all paranoid, I see it everywhere. They find me annoying. She finds me annoying. She doesn’t like talking to me. This has meaning, that has meaning. Whatever whatever.

I don’t really feel depressed or anything, but I know this current obsession of mine might make you wonder. I mean, since I’m feeling shit about myself currently. But it’s not like that. It’s more constructive than depression. If I was depressed, I wouldn’t be looking to fix the problem. And I really do want to fix it.


Seriously. I should pray for guidance, cause that is totally what I need right now!

And yeah, I’m not depressed. I mean, I’m able to see all my other redeeming qualities, should, you know, anyone be interested enough to see beyond the dumb upfront bullshit that I always screw up.

We all know I’m loyal. I really am. If you’re in my Inner Sanctum of Me, you are sacred, and homey [insert chest-thump], you got what I can give you. Which might not be much, but I’ll try to make sure we have fun along the way. And really, I grow on you after a while!

I am really, really, really, really fucking honest. Like you have no idea. I have this set of morals made of reinforced steel, and I can’t do things I know are intentionally wrong. I just cannot do them. The only exception is if someone pushes me over the edge. It’s a good thing my edge is actually pretty difficult to get to. But every once in a while, I get pushed to a point where I do things I might otherwise morally object to. But instead of feeling guilty about it, I feel like I have my revenge and the debt is settled and I can be at peace with it.

I know Scorpios are famous for the revenge thing, but that for me is mostly a fantasy world of mine. Because of my moral obligations to myself, often getting revenge on someone isn’t permitted. I can think of all sorts of reasons off the top of my head why it’s bad, so generally I confine it to fantasy. This includes spitting in that fucker’s tea. Or rubbing that table’s cheese block all over the ground before bringing it out to their table and grating it.

Evil thoughts, yes. Have I ever done anything like this? No. I find it morally wrong and though I’m tempted sometimes, I have not and will not ever directly tamper with someone’s food or drink. If someone else does something and the person has been an asshole, yeah, I’d probably serve it and say nothing. And actually, I have. I feel a twinge of guilt, but morally I get away with this, at least in my mind, because to me, not mentioning something is not lying. But that owes to my own particular beliefs and feelings about honesty. And to ease your minds, most food-tampering at my OG is extremely rare because I find the crew to generally be very honest and trustworthy.

But like… I rarely ever lie. I mean, I lie about stupid shit, or to get my ass out of trouble, or whatever. But I never lie about important things. You know, big things. Or things that could be big.

If there’s anyone still reading this, you may be wondering what happens when someone asks me a question I don’t want them to know the answer to. Well, I have learned the art of evasive maneuvering. I’ll try one tack, and then another, and so on, until either it’s clear no fancy moves will work and I finally crack and tell the flat-out truth, or the storm passes and the topic moves on.

I might be the most honest damned person you ever met. I mean, I doubt anyone knows how fucking moral I am, and how much it plays a part of my life. Like.. I have this thing where I can’t say something I don’t mean. Cause that’s either lying or false flattery. And falseness sucks. I mean, every once in a while, I can throw in an ulterior-motive-compliment that I don’t mean, but I don’t like doing it. I would rather be genuine about what I say, and have there be meaning behind my words, because, paired with my actions, they're all I really have in this world.

If I tell you something, I strive for it to be the straight-from-the-heart, and honest-to-god truth as I know it. I mean I admit my knowledge can be faulty, so I might be mistaken, but generally, everything I say is shrouded in truth. When I say something, I mean it. It’s true. It’s my word.

That way, when I do compliment you on your shirt, or tell you I love your sunglasses, or that that jacket looks awesome on you, you can know I really mean it.


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