Maybe I Should Give the Hat Back.

I find it really interesting that as Mr. Pazienza takes his "self-imposed sabbatical" over at DXM, I find myself in a similar predicament. It's not the same reason- I understand his general exhaustion after the election- mine is just a little more personal (and simple- I won't be around a computer for awhile). I think I need to get my priorities straightened out and start figuring out what I want to do when I grow up. I turn 26 on the 24th and I'm just kind of confused right now.

I'll probably be back in a little while- maybe a new name and look for AISYHT.

In the meantime please go to any of the sites listed to the right or check out my friend, Alisha, who is a Navy wife.

http://navywife8888.blogspot.com/

She's funny and I think you guys will like her. (We used to work at Temps X together!)

TTYL! I'll come back with stories, I promise.

Coping with breaking up.

Things that you must absolutely not do when being dumped (and I should know):

1. Do not call the dumper. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE CALL THIS PERSON. Nothing you say, no amount of bargaining you do, and no amount of hot sex you promise them will make them want you again. And in the mean time, you lower your self worth. At this time, 2:40 PM EST, mine is worth less than the Somalian shilling (yes, I had to look that up).

2. Do not watch "Say Anything" over and over again.  Lloyd Dobbler does NOT exist.  And even if he did, you'd probably walk all over him and take him for granted anyway.  So just get over it.

3. If you have a choice, do not listen to music that reminds you of this person.  DMB for Empty Soul, TI and Lil Wayne for John.  Three great artists that I happen to like- all ruined because I need to be more selective when it comes to those I "lay down with."

4. Do not eat.  Trust me.  I mean, eat, but really - don't over do it.  This is not a bulimia thing or an anorexic thing or a body image thing.  Well maybe a body image thing.  It's perfectly natural to want to stuff your face after you break up or your heart's been smashed into a million unusable pieces.  Ice cream, Hershey's chocolate, cheeseburgers (it's an addiction and I'm working on it).  Just don't do it.  You'll feel like a heifer afterwards and no one there to tell you you aren't fat.  Is this shallow?  I think this is shallow.  But feeling bloated and miserable and heartbroken just really sucks.  So don't eat... too much.  Or at least have a banana instead.

5. Do not go out and spend money like it is going out of style (read: no shopping).  Especially in this economy.  I have to say, my first instinct after John was to go buy a new Coach purse.  I'm sure I'm not the only one who has ever felt this way.  I wanted a "See, I'm fine on my own and will buy this to show you that" symbol of my independence.  First of all, $250 is NEVER ok to spend on a purse and second of all, no that's it.  Don't make yourself go broke to one up that person.

DO: go out and have safe unattached sex.  Is that bad that I'm recommending this?  Probably.  Physically, you need to stop missing that person that just said you weren't good enough for them.  If you aren't into random sex- at least get out there and flirt.  Get back on the horse!  Fuck the loser.  If you let it get to you, you will never recover and the next guy you date will suffer for it.  

DO: tell yourself that you are an awesome person.  It sounds lame.  Trust me, I know it sounds really stupid and futile to do this.  However, if you say it and start believing it to be true- then it really doesn't matter what happens.  It doesn't matter who dumped who.  You have to be ok with you.

DO: watch movies like "Point Break," "Shaun of the Dead," "Die Hards 1, 2, 3...and the other one."  (Or whatever floats your boat in that arena.)  Watch horror movies, action movies, thriller movies.  Especially ones were people get shot up in the most elaborately staged ways- "Face/Off" and other John Woo movies are great for this.  Stupid explosions with little talk of love and feelings.  And, also, go see movies that you wouldn't go see otherwise- like "Rocky Horror" or "The Big Lebowski" at a local cinema with all those weirdos! (Sorry, I love those weirdos, but they are definitely weird.) 

DO: take up a hobby.  I'm starting ballroom dancing tonight.  Seriously!  So, join a gun club or take karate or take a nude drawing class (although, I'm warning you- those models aren't nearly as good looking as your would like them to be).  Keep busy.  Like I said before, Fuck the loser.  You are an awesome person.  You might not want to take it to the extremes of jumping out of a plane (three weeks!), but just do something you always wanted to do but put off.

There ya go, another advice column for someone who has no license to dole out advice.  Sometimes it just helps to manifest the thoughts into something productive.

Amusement.

Ron Winter Drums

Quite possibly the best thing ever. (BWE.tv)

I've already made two tracks that are ten times better than anything Kanye has put out this year.  I personally like the George Michael "UGH!" paired with the David Bowie "Let's Dance" thing.  And all the day-glo.  This is better than anti-depressants.  Kalyn is already plotting my death.

Classics in Neuroses.

So, I was driving home last night in my "new" busted Cutlass Cierra (blogging does not make you rich). The thing has pep for a car that is fifteen years old. Before I knew it I was gliding up and down and around the back roads of Geauga County, Ohio and enjoying the fact that the sun sets later and later every day.

(So yeah, I have a nasty habit of joyriding. I'm a huge fan of "Left, Right, Straight." My car is a gas guzzler. I am probably the number one cause of global warming since I like to drive around aimlessly- I did when gas was at $4/gallon too.)

Back to last night. Driving along, listening to local pop radio and then... T.I. comes waltzing into my life again. I don't have a problem with T.I. and I hope he doesn't end up going to jail for the rest of his life on whatever bogus weapons charge they are using to make an example of him. He didn't beat his girlfriend (that we know of) and he didn't shoot anyone (that we know of).

And another backtrack: When T.I. first got big it was with "What You Know" back in 06. I had transferred from Miami of Ohio (aka Lilly White University) and was going to school at Kent State. I had met a boy the previous fall while visiting one of my best friends, it was her brother. It was the biggest thing to have happened to me up to that point. He would become my first love and, for while, the most important person in my life other than family. I'm sure you see where this is going- that boy was the infamous John, of stolen hat fame. T.I. and his string of inescapable hits off of King became the soundtrack to our summer.

Last October, the last time John and I saw each other and the brief 2 hours where we both reconsidered starting up again, it was "Whatever You Like" playing on the Honda stereo as we both looked at each other and wondered where to go next and if it would be together. It sounds really melodramatic and it probably was a scene worthy of the OC, but I will always consider this the turning point between us. Before I got out of the car he hugged me- holding on like he would never see me again. I couldn't understand why.

As you may have guessed, hearing T.I. on the radio is pretty tough for me.

So, there I was in the Cutlass and 96.5 starts up with the opening to "Whatever You Like." And I can't help but go back to that day in the car. "Do you love him?" he asked me (regarding PVille). "I think I could," I said. "Or at least owe it to myself to try." We rode around Mentor and Willoughby and Eastlake, where he's from. Half-joking, I suggested we go to the beach- the scene of one of our first hookups. We started out in that direction before deciding to turn back. It was a literal road that would only lead to more heartbreak. "Do you love her?" I asked about FCOG. He shrugged. It was the calm before the storm, to borrow a cliche.

Of course now, in my rusty Oldsmobile, in March of 09, I am fleeing back to my house. Frantic to get home. Frantic to talk to him. Tears streaming down my face, I run through a stop sign. I just needed to say something- anything- just hear his voice again. I forgot about everything that had happened and all the fights. It's an incessant need- an urge- a craving just to know that I'm still in his universe. A thought in the back of his head. I ran into my house and dug my cell out of my purse.

I looked at the number. (It's his house number.) Took a deep breath. Pressed send. No one was there.

And then, I realized the insanity of what I was doing. Why was I calling him? What good would this bring, if any?  At the best it would be a casual conversation, peppered in small talk.  At the worst- and heartbreakingly so- he would tell me to "Fucking go to Hell." So, of course, I immediately texted my sponsor.

ME: Having a meltdown here... Just called John's house. WTF is wrong with me?

ALANNA (were you expecting someone else?): WHY did you call his house?

ME: Idk. Idk. Idk. (Sorry, but that is my favorite and most used text lingo.)  No one was home. I was driving home and I heard TI. Damn TI. And I started missing him and the next thing I knew I was home and dialing the number for his house...

ALANNA: You need to break your unhealthy relationship habit. C-U-T-O-F-F. CUT OFF. Go ahead and miss him but contacting him will only result in heartache.

ME: I know... I don't know why I did it. It was like an alcoholic not realizing they are actually drinking a beer...

So, yes. I freaked out. And yes, I still think about John. All.the.time. I hope this gives you people out there an insight either to just how messed up I am or to how bad breakups and their resonance really are.  My sister says that I'm still in the "1/3 Zone"- a rule that says you can lament about someone for 1/3 of the time you were with them.  I always thought it was the "1/2 Rule"- guess even that downsized.  So I guess that means I can be like this until next September/October.  I don't want to be like this until October.  I hate going for weeks thinking I'm ok and then, because some T.I. song comes on, I go into withdrawal.

UGGHHHHH.

(Although it's funny I have everybody and their brother suggesting setups for me.  I really just think I need to be alone and get through this without hurting anyone else.)

Dance Party!

Back in college, we decided to go prude. Yes, that kind of prude. It was a decision made after a lot of drinks and the realization that maybe we were all just big sluts. I don't recall the details, just that in the end none of us really adhered to the Prude Movement of 04. So lately, after E. Soul and all, I'm thinking it's time to make a Prude Tour comeback.

So here's a song to listen to while you ponder that.



"So come on baby, why don't you show some class? Why you wanna move so fast?"

Sing it, Jermaine.

You know what's really sad about this song? He died of complications caused by AIDS (liver cancer, I believe).

Ode to the chemically imbalanced.

So, I suppose I should explain myself a little more rather than post a cryptic tattoo shot with my death wish to jump out of an airplane (which, by the way, is not related to any drama- I just have always wanted to do it). PVille (now Empty Soul) and I never really officially went our separate ways. Although, looking back, that should have been the first thing I did when he came back. Actually, the first thing I should have done was tell him to go fuck himself when I first met him. Hindsight is always 20/20.

In an effort to report this issue as fair and balanced as I can, I'm just going to give you the straight facts. Followed by commentary. I admit, this post may go a little into Fox News territory when it comes to reporting the truth. Like always, bear with me.

Empty Soul's excuse was that he was not ready for a relationship. That it wasn't me, it was him. I said I would wait until he was because, stupid stupid hormonal girl that I am, I actually just thought that meant "our timing isn't right now, but maybe in a month or two."

Guys who are reading this, I understand what this all was. This was all guy talk for "I don't like you." Which I had my guesses about before, and when I asked him for a straight answer- just to tell me straight out so I could go on with my life, he said that it "wasn't the case." Ok, was I wrong to ask flat out what our status was? And why couldn't he just say "It's not working with you, I don't really have any feelings for you at all, go about your life." Why, knowing that I have strong strong feelings for him, would he string me along? Help, please?

A couple of weeks ago, I had asked if he had any spare time in his busy schedule of working a crap job and being with his son that we could possibly go out. He said he'd try. I trusted him when he said he was busy and backed off.

So................. Friday night he comes right out and tells me he has a date. With someone else. Who is not me. Because, in all of his busy busy time, he could not find a few minutes to say "I don't think we should see each other because I don't like you." (I'm not made of glass, I would have rather he told me that, it wasn't like I was going to shatter). But instead he found enough time to take someone else out. Which really, I don't care. (Although, I flipped out on Friday, but that was because this all hit me like a tidal wave). But why, why when I ask you if you like me or not, why when I just want the truth, can you guys not give it? Girls are stronger than you all give us credit for. Straightforward-ness gets you a lot.

So those are the facts of the situation. And yes, I had a really really really low point in calling him a million times and begging him to come over because I was distraught. It was pathetic and horrible and I cringe to think that I went that craz-o. I didn't get any sleep, I still haven't eaten that much. I made myself physically ill. The next day, instead of talking to me and explaining, he basically texted me with "Do not ever contact me again." Also with "You are crazy, you have an acidic tongue and violent moodswings."

I may have a sharp tongue, but most people wouldn't categorize it as acidic. Also, I may be crazy- but that is the pot calling the kettle not only black, but round and useful for boiling water. I have an email that supports this fact.

So, that's where we are. I would feel bad for the millions of calls and hurtful things I said if he had shown any sympathetic bone in his body (thereby attributing the new moniker Empty Soul- thank you, Kalyn). Since he didn't, I see now why he is where he is in his life and I am where I am in mine. IF that makes any sense at all. A lesser person would post the emails that he wrote and remind everyone of the things he used to say... but I'm going to salvage any dignity I have left and let it go.

After watching Rush Limbaugh's ignorant and trite speech at the CPAC convention this weekend, I realized an important life lesson: playing their game isn't worth it.

I know that I overreacted. I know I overreact for a lot of things. I know that I probably could use a Xanax every once in awhile and the things I say are pretty awful, things that I don't really mean after a day. If I could go back and change Friday, I would have let this all go then. However, like my mom says, God never throws us anything we can't handle. Maybe this was just what I needed to find the strength to get up and say "fuck off."

Crazy.

So, this weekend was crazy. Emotionally and physically. The result is the picture above- a 3 inch tattoo of a dove on my forearm to remind me what a tough, strong person I am (I know, it's lame. But it's better than a butterfly).

Also, I'm jumping out of a plane for my birthday. :)

And if any of you are wondering, yes it (the drama) had to do with PVille guy- now renamed Empty Soul thanks to Kalyn. His name will never be mentioned again on here. My heart has been ripped out for the last time.... fucker.