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As I'm listening to the voice on the other end of my phone, my stomach tips and tilts and twists in ways it hasn't for a very long time. I cannot help it, when in extremes my tender tummy finds relief in emptiness and forces that state when necessary. Tonight was extreme distress coupled with the anxiety laced in the words I needed to say. I rarely use that word, need, but it was something I -needed- to say for the survival of my sanity and digestive system.
Yet, now, I cannot sleep.
Part of me wants to go nothing but simply hermit beneath the sheets and ward off what's to come with hot tea, funny movies, and midnight runs but I'm in no shape to run, the tea's downstairs and that's just too darn far away, plus I'm pretty picky about the movies I watch and My Man Godfrey just doesn't sound like it would cut it tonight.
I'm in a strange state of limbo at the moment.
You see, I was holding this rock. It was a sturdy rock and one that fit well in the palm of my hand but as the months passed that rock got kind of heavy and harder to carry. I didn't want to just toss the rock anywhere, it's a rock after all, and one that fit my hand so perfectly and despite the weight, I continued to hold the rock. Except, I can't manage to keep my fingers around it without hurting myself. Unsure of what to do, I took that rock and flung it as far as I could into next week or the ocean, to let time and the weather take it's toll. Hopefully, the rock will wash back on shore, changed for the better, or I'll need to find that rock a better hand to hold it. Right now, I'm just waiting for it to wash onto shore which steals nothing but time and I have plenty of that to give.
Until then, I'm going to wait here and try not to sink in the sand with each wave. That's what happens when you stand still at the water's edge, you start to sink.
I'm just going to start walking.
Pace and Thoughts,
Ally
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It didn't really feel like my birthday Saturday. Well wishes poured in through the myface, email, and my ninety pound ball and chain I call my cellphone.
Thank you everyone for all the sweet things you said!
The Pediatrician sleeps late and I woke up at about six thirty in the morning when Alex called me to be the first to wish me good tidings. He apparently underestimated the night owls in my family who at one minute past midnight began to trickle in textual exclamations of love. When the Pediatrician woke up, we went to a little market in his city and had handmade stuffed crepes along with some light walking through the bazaar. Soon after we headed over to his friend's seventh annual 'Freedom Fest' which included three kegs, twenty people, the dangers of rum, a slip and slide, along with a few other games. To be honest, I'm a little dissapointed the Pediatrician was running late and I missed joining a team. To be honest, spectator was fun, but participant in a slip and slide challenge would have been pretty darn epic. I met some really nice people, one of which I had an interesting conversation about string theory over cherry coke (Didn't drink a single drop. Shame on me!) which really changed the way I'm thinking at the moment.
That night we went to another of his friend's house in which the host was a complete jerk. A whole half of me is tempted to post his full name, the city he lives in, and the company he works at but that seems rather petty. Just as petty as telling a complete stranger they are an ignorant idiot for throwing away the recyclable plastic plates. I held back my tears until I stepped outside.
But I was trying to figure out why that bothered me. It's a small incident after all and my usual reaction would've been "Yeah, well, you're a misogynistic mistake that Darwin apparently didn't account for." and yet, my tears were my answer. I'm not sure if it was because I felt slightly trapped by the situation or if that being told I'm not good enough the way I am a few days prior left me sensitive to criticism. Either way, it was emotionally distressing and I didn't enjoy the evening. Not even fireworks could make up for it because they were rained out.
So, it seems this year wasn't the year to have a good birthday.
Maybe next year!
Sparkles and Tantrums,
Ally
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It was pointed out that my last email was nothing more than a hypocrisy.
At the beginning, I take the blame for the problems concerning communication but blame him at the end for being unwilling to compromise. It shows that I "don't really understand" what's the issue at hand even though I poured my full attention, thought, and emotion into understanding. Perhaps, I understand differently. Perhaps, I see things differently. Well, I do see things differently, I'm having trouble seeing things his way entirely and I don't feel as if things are being seen my way. Not that the things are about anything specific but they are just things that keep circling above me like vultures waiting for a weak moment for me to fall prey to.
It doesn't help that we're not in the same location.
It doesn't help we hardly talked during our vacation.
It doesn't help that communication at this moment is limited.
What does help is that we love eachother and are willing to stand here and fight to save this relationship from this tension filled angst.
I'm going to go write an email and work on communicating.
More and More,
Ally
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I am not the talker in my relationship.
When I have an issue, I let it tumble around in my thoughts until I can sort it all out, unravel the troubles I bring upon my own self, and then continue along my merry way. Not exactly something that is conducive to a relationship.
Sharing my feelings is something I'm entirely unused to.
Tonight, I went and read every single letter that I have ever written Alex, but never sent. As I read, I noticed a pattern of two sentiments repeating. "I am trying." "I love you, that is the only certainty I know." The second is completely true. I love Alex and that is truly the only certainty I have in my transient little life. He has been let into my heart, my thoughts, and my life further than anyone else I've ever known. Still, it's not enough. I need to push to give more because the more I give, the more I wish to retreat and I stand frozen between what I feel I need and what I want, knowing that I have to let go entirely in order to have everything. It's terrifying.
The problem is me.
This is difficult for me to admit. That there is an issue and it falls completely on me and my lack of communication skills.
For Alex, there is no middle ground. There is no partial communication. That isn't enough. There is no vapid sharing of unimportant thoughts. That isn't where the depths of secrets Alex's wishes to plunge into dwell.
I poured everything into this relationship until Alex requested a break. Two weeks, he told me. Since then, everytime there is a rough patch I brace myself for him to leave. I don't want him to go. Quite the contrary, I love Alex more than I have ever loved anyone and the absolute last thing I want is to lose such a precious gift.
Alex is tired of being patient. I am tired of being pushed.
"You -will- learn to talk to me." He tells me when I ask for some sort of compromise. Space to sort out my thoughts and then return with them written down, a script of sorts, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. It doesn't seem like anything is enough. It has to be his way. There is no middle ground to stand upon.
Where does that leave us?
Together,
Ally
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Several Things:
1. I survived the jungle.
2. My malaria pills are effecting my sleep.
3. Alex's sleep isn't effected at all. He sleeps through everything.
4. I learned that everything really does mean EVERYTHING.
5. Walked 35 miles in three days.
6. Hearing these five words: "I love you more now." Made the misery worth it.
I'm exhausted. I just got home. I'm going to bed now.
You can wish me sweet dreams but, the Chlorquine is preventing that from happening.
Relief and Recovery,
Ally
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You know that thing I said about announcing when I'm leaving?
Yeah, well, I'm doing that right now.
Don't be mad! I'll come back!
Alex is whisking me away to a South American vacation for two weeks and while I'm not sure how this is going to go, all I can say is that there had better be some sugar because this going without sugar, pretending to be diabetic practically, is making me into one of those people. You know, nuns.
When we come back, he has some more training to do for the Army and I'll be meeting ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) That Girlon July Second or Third for tea, because I don't drink coffee.
As for my impending birthday, which I am dreading more than ever with every single 'Cougar' joke Alex is making, I plan on not celebrating it.
Reasons Why:
Family will be in the mountains while I'm in College Town.
College Town friends are throwing their own birthday party...ON my birthday.
Alex will be in Army Training.
Fantastic, right?
Well, it may not be a total bust. (Though it will probably fall right in there with the birthday I attended a funeral and recieved no presents, the birthday the cake was eaten before I had a chance to blow out candles at the age of seven, or the birthday my parents didn't even bother to call.)
The Pediatrician found out all three 'Reasons Why' and started making plans.
"Okay, you'll come over the Third, sometime after five, and we'll get Thai food and watch X-men movies. Then, the next morning we have an all day party to attend after waffles at that awesome place with the banana split waffles. Later that day, we'll go to another party and then sometime that night we'll go watch fireworks. Don't worry, I'll bring a blanket to sit on. And then, on the Fifth, we'll pack up the kitchen after I make you breakfast and if you want to stay, I don't have to get back to work until the Eighth. No? Okay, then after packing the kitchen with your expert help, we'll get you back on the road to College Town. How's that sound? Wonderful? I can't wait, this is going to be fun!"
Before you even say anything, Alex knows and isn't the jealous type. Something to the effect of "If you thing being a doctor's wife will be a better life, then go for it." Which I'm not sure is a blessing to go spend time with a friend or a defense sheild on his own heart in case I leave. Neither Alex nor I have any wish to tie the other down, in a relationship, but sometimes I wonder if both of us being ready to leave the other at a moment's notice is a good thing.
Last call from my driver to the Airport. I've gotta go. It's an hours drive to State Capital and I can't be late!
Wish me luck, please. Lots and lots of luck, because I'm hiking in the Amazon Jungle and I don't want to be eaten by a snake. I've seen what happens.
Let's all just hope that doesn't happen to Alex or me. What? Of course Disney movies are accurate representations of wildlife. That's why we let little kids watch them: so they'll know what to expect when in the jungle.
Jungle Fever,
Ally
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Them:
Herb! They're coming for us!
It's okay June, I'll go out and zoom around all menacing like a shark in the air.
What kind of shark, Herb?
The Great White Shark of The Midwest! Hear me Roar!
Buzz.
Huh?
Well, I mean, bzz bzz bzz, you know...Buzz?
Regardless of sounds, I'm going to go be menacing! I'm going to charge and swoop wildly.
Oh, Herb! Hurry! They're coming for us! What's that big light? Is that the light?
Turn away, June! Turn away!
Me:
What the heck?!
Why is there a wasp in here? (I go and peek into the little hole in the garage ceiling it flew into.)
Freaking heck with a peck of shitake mushrooms! A nest?!
Die! Die! No seriously, die and don't sting me on your way out.
Hey, stop flying right at me! I mean it!
I said, just die you little meanie!
Spray and Foam,
Ally
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| 2009-06-16 15:40 |
| Away |
| Public |
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Huh.
Well, okay, I was away. I went back into the mountains to see family. It was a last minute decision that I literally hatched and executed in two hours. I try to leave a message for you guys letting you know that I'm gone, usually where, and a whenabouts of my glorious return. No time this time!
Why I went home:
It was lettuce and onion season.
An Aunt needed me to go over clothes in person and offer general encouragement.
My grandmother hasn't been doing well since the funeral.
Especially, my grandmother as I spoke to her over the phone and she sounded downright pitiful. She spends the days alone now, the days once spent tending to my grandfather's every need, and it's a change of pace and life for her. Her daughter (my dad's mother) is gathering everything up to move in with her, and while I love my father's mother, I can't help but feel less loved than everyone else.
Don't believe me? That's okay.
My dad's mother has looked at both Christopher Evan and I, while we're all in the same room, and sigh sadly saying, "I wish I had a redheaded grandbaby." If I could have banged my head against something solid, like a wall, I would have. Instead, I get up and walk away. That's my defense in this sort of situation and my retaliation: Walk The Heck Away. It works, for the most part, but there have been a few moments where I walk away in midsentence. (Maybe that's why I'm less loved, I have an opinion and don't smile or nod with every word spoken.)
Then, my grandmother started listing every single quilt she has ever made and who they went two. Thirty something quilts to family and friends. Was my name mentioned? Was my brother's name mentioned? Was my father's name mentioned? Was my mother's name mentioned? Negatory there Rampart, the McDonat clan (a subsect of the Stewart family) does not deserve such exploits of needle, thread, and fabric swatches. I cut my visit short and walked away with kisses and words of love that is distant, cold, and the kind of love that may not even be love but is given that word because, darnit, family is apparently entitled to such an affectionate use of emotion. I sincerely dread taking Alex there, someday, because without my grandfather I really do not feel a want to be around my grandmother or my dad's mother. Horrible to say? Of course. (Though, I could justify it over a cup of coffee, wild hand gestures, and me shouting 'African Violets!' several times, but it just doesn't translate well into words.) Without my grandfather, the goodness is gone.
Let's just leave all that between panelled walls and I'll skip forward to something else.
Lettuce and Onions:
A Mess Of Homegrown Lettuce Leaves (One Mess is Equal to One Large Mixing Bowl.)
A Fistful of Green Onions (Also Homegrown for Flavor and Convenience.)
A Pack of Salt Bacon (The Most Amazing Stuff on Earth.)
While the salt bacon is frying, wash the lettuce and onions and roughly chop. Place into large bowl. Drizzle the salt bacon grease over the entire mixture. Crumble salt bacon on top and serve.
This is the most amazingly delicious, horrible for you, heart attack inducing, incredibly scrumptious bowl of food you will ever eat. I managed to get through an entire bowl and had to stop eating. Apparently a morning run on a near to daily basis lowers your tolerance for bacon grease or onions. I'm not sure which, but my word, that bowl was delicious.
Greasy but Good,
Ally
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Rule #1
Don't post about the drama eminating from extended family about arrests, breakups, babies, and those needing help of an anonymous kind.
Rule #2
Don't post in the heat of anger. It's not only bad juju, but it only brings regret in the morning. Yes, my journal is nothing more than a snapshot of how I am feeling at that very singular and fleeting moment, but it happens to be publicly displayed and apologizing is something I truly loathe doing and depending on whether or not I'm righteously (or believe I am righteously) angry I may be seething while I choke out the words.
Tonight, I almost broke the second rule.
Just a few short minutes ago, in lieu of the words you are reading now, this space was filled with anger, resentment, and much more as the glory that is my temper was unleashed in written form. It's the kind of anger that brought me to tears once while I relived my time in highschool as my little brother's second mother and circled back around to the kind of destructive fury I rarely feel but is ever present when dealing with Christopher Evan. No one can incite and ignite my temper like he does which is only fueled into worse things to come as I hear my mother's voice echoing from years ago 'Getting angry let's the other person win.' and I hate to lose perpetuating the vicious cycle. How I usually diffuse my temper isn't exactly an option at the current moment.
I want to go for a drive. I want to go for a run. I want to get as far away as possible and I want that this very instant.
Inside, I feel cold. Currently, I'm indifferent and in this moment I'm not even sure if I love my little brother or if I tolerate his existence because we're related.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
The Trouble I've Seen,
Ally
P.S. Went for a run under the imminent threat of rain. Met a mouse, named it Hermione, and watched an owl swoop down into the grass I just ran by. The circle, of life, I suppose.
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Lately, I've been feeling untethered.
The entire purpose of my life, to finish school, is on hold for the summer.
Why?
Well that's an easy but complicated answer. Alex and I have this big trip planned that falls right smack dab in the middle of summer classes. That's not a good thing to miss two weeks of condensed classes. The decision was made, by me, to accompany Alex on this trip and the consequence of my choice is no summer classes which alters my timeline for finishing school by yet another semester. I can see the end, it's so close, and yet it feels eons away far beyond my grasp.
In other news:
The burnt area of my back is now a toasty brown color. Someone call the tabloids, a miracle just happened! I have a freaking tan! (On one tiny part of my body, leaving the rest of me very pale and freakish looking with dark brown shoulders, but let's not complain and focus on the good stuff. Like peeling like a lizard! Or, perhaps, a snake. I'm not sure which on yet, but let's just say I've found Reason Number One Hundred and Thirty Seven Why Long Distance Relationships Are Apparently Awesome: The other half of your entanglement is not around during ickity portions of your life such as peeling after sunburns, the flu, or just not washing your hair for a couple days because you're so burnt that the thought of water on your skin is enough to consider killing someone for pain relief medieval style with some witch doctor shaking feathers or a tortoise shell over the injured area chanting oogedybook in a loincloth. Not that I think like that, or anything...)
In other other news:
I just got to spend two hours online with Alex. Aw, aren't we sickening in our adorableness?! Yes, we are and I don't care. I am now a part of one of those couples I still make fun of in an 'Isn't it ironic that I'm being such a hypocritical person' sort of way that doesn't require your judgement.
Love It Burns,
Ally
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A portion of the email I sent my Father last night:
That is it! I'm moving to a nudist colony and running around in the biffity buff because if I have to sit here for one more minute with my shirt stuck to my skin I am either going to scratch the ever living tar out of my tender skin or truly be driving to insanity over the sensation. Arg! Granted, it has been pointed out that further skin exposed is increasing my chance to be sunburned, which has produced holes in this particular plan, but I may forge ahead regardless.
My Father's reply:
Oh I wish I were fishy in the sea
Oh I wish I were fishy in the sea
Oh I'd go swimming in the nudey without my bathing suity
Oh I wish I were fishy in the sea
Conclusion:
No wonder I'm crazy. I had no chance for sanity.
Personal Side Note:
Yes, my Father is where I get my twisted sense of humor.
All Too Much,
Ally
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Alex and I are in his grandmother's garage, stealing a moment with eachother for quick kisses, tight hugs, and whispered words of affection. Then, he does this thing where he requested I cross my arms over my chest, like a mummy, and he proceeded to pick me up with the direct result of my entire spine crackling like a tap dance on bubble wrap. I'm expected to do the same to him.
Where in the universe did he think the physics of that request would work?!
Not only can I not reach my arms completely around him in his mummy state, he is also close to sixty pounds heavier than me! Now, I'm not good at math, but even I realize that it doesn't take a rocket scientist to announce that isn't happening.
Being the loving girlfriend that I am, I offered a compromise.
(This is hard to describe, but I'll do my darndest to be clear.) I requested that we stand back to back and link arms, which was followed by me bending forward. This lengthens the other person's (in this case, Alex's) spine and has all the crickly crackly joy he wanted.
That's not what happened.
Alex thought it would be funny to lift his feet and see how well I could bear the weight. My knees buckled under his hundred and sixty something pounds, and as our arms were entertwined I could not reach out and stabalize myself against the concrete floor. Yes, concrete. I know it was concrete because my face came within a very few inches of crashing into it and terrified me with the knowledge that in four inches I'm going to either break my nose or bust my teeth. This happened within five short (But traumatic!) seconds and Alex decided to stretch out, stand up, and release my arms. Upon which I burst immediately into tears from the release of whatever chemical was in my system from the terror to unterror. Deterrifiedication, maybe? I'm not sure, but Alex immediately apologized.
'Ally I'm so sorry. Are you okay?'
'Yes, I was just scared. I came really close to getting seriously hurt.'
'I'm sorry.'
Then comes the part that I'm disturbed by.
'It's okay, Alex. It's not your fault.'
Umm... Mouth, did you really spit those words out? Brain would like to call a sidebar and disagree with you. Of course it was his fault! All I wanted to do was something kind, (pop his back) because it was something he wanted, and he nearly busts out my front teeth? How is that not his fault? He looks at me like I'm crazy, as he should.
'It's my fault Ally. I didn't mean to scare you.'
I know that. I wouldn't be with him if I felt he spent his time trying to deliberately scare me or hurt me, but I find myself realizing he is unaware.
Examples of what I mean:
Alex and I are standing next to one another in his Aunt's kitchen and when he moves his feet, he steps on me. Why? Because he was unaware that my feet were there.
Alex and I are sitting next to eachother and he puts his arms around my shoulders. Most uncomfortable sitting position possible. I always move his arm to hold his hand. I hate that position while sitting or walking, especially when my long hair gets caught under his arm, but he's unaware the length is caught.
Notice that all of those are physical situations. Alex is very aware of any emotional or mental situations involving the two of us, especially if we are in close proximity to one another. Most people can't see through the mask, but somehow he has figured out which smiles are fake and which placid facade masks turmoil.
It really makes no difference in our relationship, I love him regardless, but as we don't get the chance to spend extended periods of time together I'm wondering if this state of being unaware is because he is younger, a part of his personality, or something else entirely and I wonder if it will ever change.
To be honest, I think it will change. I just have to be the one aware of where his feet are until then.
Close Call,
Ally
P.S. I'm all for rough housing, but there has to be soft landing in the form of grass or an empty bed. Heck, even carpet. But bare concrete? Not something you want to land face first on!
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| 2009-06-01 17:13 |
| Pain |
| Public |
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Pain is probably the worst thing there is on this planet. We spend our whole lives avoiding it, in one way or another, as we should. We avoid bees that sting, we go inside when it's storming, we put on gloves in the winter, we go to work to have a home to sleep in at night, and if you're smarter than me: you put on sunscreen.
Yes, it was only two hours in the afternoon sun.
That does not matter.
Already I've heard thirty two renditions of various butter jokes (Because my back is red as a lobster and I'm apparently related to "clever" people.) and various cluckings of tongues and admonishes each time I request a new layer of Aquaphor on my back. That hissing sound of breath sucked in between teeth is a sort of empathetic kindness, I suppose, but what I really need to a thick glob spread quickly, not tiny little dabs repeatedly dabbed and murmurings of 'Oh, you poor thing.' as I'm neither a thing or particulary pathetic.
I still stand by what I wrote yesterday: Is it purple? No. Then go away, I'm fine. You can stop fussing about the powers of sunscreen anytime, I swear, anytime now and the timing would be phenomenal.
Still, I could do without the pain. My shoulders feel as if they are on fire. Yes, because they are burnt, the irony is not lost upon me.
I think I'm going to become a nun in a nudist colony until this burn heals up. Clothes are making everything worse.
Goldfish In A Pool,
Ally
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Currently, I'm sunburnt.
Just for the record: It hurts. It sucks.
As a direct result I have come to a startling realization.
Are you ready for this?
I'm starting to think my little brother's girlfriend is a Sadist. Why? Oh, I don't know. Could it be because the blonde kept poking my burn and sounding giddy while telling me exactly what my back looks like? In my defense, as I need one at this moment, I couldn't reach it with the suncreen and I thought to myself, 'Self, we're only going to be outside an hour or two. What's the harm?' Since I didn't answer myself, the lack of an answer became the answer and harm became less of a known result and more of an unlikely end to spending two hours outside putting together a cabinet. Then, oh then, I slathered on the aquaphor and hid away from the cruel and giddy Sadist in the guise of a young, blonde, nursing student.
My theory is as long as the burn is red (and not purple, because that's just scary) then everyone is over reacting. Wussies. It's just a sunburn. It's not like I've been radioactively poisoned by a radioactive spider who bit me. On second thought, that would be kind of cool if it worked out that I ended up with spidery powers. However, I don't believe the logistics are in my favor despite what Stan Lee says.
I'd post pictures, but I don't want to traumatize you. That would just be cruel and I'm not a Sadist who giggles over blistering skin.
Motrin and Water,
Ally
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It's called Cell Phone Hill.
It's called Cell Phone Hill and it's over a mile ('A three minute walk!' Alex insists, but I've seen the hill for myself during Sandhurst.) away from the cadet barracks. It's late, close to midnight, and still he hikes over a mile just to hear my voice. The moment he speaks this rush of sweet emotions spill over into my soul the moment I hear his voice.
I miss you, Ally.
You just saw me two days ago.
That's so far away!
Two days?
Yes! So far away!
Alex, I'm going to see you in three weeks for two weeks.
And it's so far away! I miss you. I miss hearing your voice.
I miss you two sweetheart, but it's late and you still have to hike back down. Flashlight?
Umm...
You went hiking without a flashlight?!
There are street lamps around.
I don't remember seeing street lamps.
Anyways, how are you?
All he wanted to hear was what I was doing. Simple, everyday, ordinary things were all he wanted to hear. I haven't been on a grand adventure. I haven't been gallavanting around in my conquest of the world. I've only been here, in College Town, living my life. Except, he wanted to hear about how shopping went with my friend, helping her through the Dodongo Cave on what has become a vintage game, or even how cooking dinner went. As if those moments, for him, are an escape from the gritty Army life, even if they are fleeting.
Love,
Ally
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I'm not okay today.
Today, I'd like to crawl into a safe place and hermit. Maybe underneath a rock at the edge of the Agean Sea on the far side of the world, away from myself, and away from the prying eyes of others. Before I left for Florida, I ran as far and as fast as I could until I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, and still I blindly stumbled as I pushed myself that little bit more. As I laid in the grass, I looked up into the darkening sky and went over the conversation in my mind. It didn't change what happened and I confided in someone. That was my mistake, letting go of my secret to share, because it's not something I do very often. I didn't even post it here, because Alex would read it, and I wasn't willing to let him know what happened effected me in any way.
The drive home from the airport was uneventful until I was asked a question.
"Did you and Alex talk about how he called you his ex-girlfriend's name?"
The answer is no and whatever happy buzz I had been feeling at seeing Alex vanished. We had an argument about her the week before I left. He says it's me, that I'm the one who brings her up, but what he doesn't realize is that I make every effort not to. I try to leave my past buried, but Alex wants to know everything. He doesn't seem to realize I don't need to know and while I may want to know, someday, that day isn't today. The problem is that I feel constantly compared. To which Alex's reply is 'There is no comparison. You're so much better than her, there is no comparison.' Except, the constant mentioning of her name had my security shaken and my frustration raised. I have no doubt that he believes he isn't comparing us, even if only to see that there is no comparison, but I can't seem to get him to understand that measuring two people against eachother, even if one is much better, is still a comparison.
'I'm talking about her so much, I'm afraid I'm going to call you her name!' Then, he did a few days later, despite the both of promising one another to not bring her up for a little while. I was still reeling from the question, 'Who are you? My girlfriend isn't insecure! Who are you?' It was like a switch flipped in my brain and I went from being an upset mess worried about living the rest of my life haunted by this girl to my old self, before I met Alex. The cold and calculating version of myself, weighing the options and wondering if dating Alex was still something I wanted if it involved this sort of heart ache. I was expecting him to announce we were over and I was braced for the announcement. He forgets, I don't need him, and that it's only by my choice that I am here.
'You want to know why my family likes you Ally? You know how to talk. When I brought ex-girlfriend home four or five times she just sat in the corner silent or barely spoke at all.' That's a comparison. To Alex? There is no comparison. I get so frustrated trying to get him to understand that my frustration leads to anger and my anger leads to doubt.
'There are two people in this relationship!' He yelled at me in frustration during our argument.
'I know that! Do you?!' Was my less than tactful response.
His family mentioned her often and freely, telling me (to my face) that I'm prettier than his last girlfriend, nicer than her, that they never liked her, she wasn't the one for him, the ex-girlfriend was jealous all the time if Alex gave his attention to anyone other than her, or that she was moody all the time. That's not me. I'm a funny little happy go lucky bunny naturally and if I'm feeling less than that, it is an extrinsic force causing the reaction. But, I cannot control the world. I can only control my reaction to it. I cannot change Alex's past, nor would I want to, but I can change my reaction to it. So, I am. I'm letting it go. He called me her name in a conversation, there's nothing I can do to change that. It's already happened and I brushed it off when it happened and I'm brushing it off now.
I love Alex, but maybe I'm being selfish. I want to be the only girl on his mind, even if I know I'm the only girl in his heart.
However, I do know, that when I saw him at the airport, any tension I had slipped away and any worries I felt dissapeared. It's only when faced with that question, did I stumble in my faith in Alex. That's shameful to admit, that I lost a little faith in the one I love, but it has since been restored with every kiss, every touch, and every whispered word of affection. I am the only girl in his heart and her ghost is nothing more than a memory that will fade with time as new memories are made.
Memories and Wishes,
Ally
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Did you know that if you land on Disney World after the eight year old had put a hotel on it, the rent is eleven million dollars?
Me neither.
I had amassed a significant amount of property and enjoying the trickles of money headed my way when people landed on the internet service provider, Atlanta Airport, and the Liberty Bell, but I hadn't taken the interest in improving my properties. However, that was not the case with the eight year old. Houeses to hotels, she poured all she had into one set of properties, the reds. Thankfully, on one go around, I landed on Wakiki Island and saved myself millions by only paying seven million dollars in rent. Seven million dollars!
The game lasted two days until I had to mortgage everything. Except, when mortgaged, the airports didn't earn revenue, the properties were dead weight, and even though I landed on free parking (And the fifteen million dollars on it!), Disney World stole my dreams of winning.
The first time, I brushed it off.
The second time, I limped away.
The third time? I had to give it all to the eight year old landlady.
I still can't believe I lost to an eight year old.
Games We Play,
Ally
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Hiya!
I'm leaving for a few days to meet Alex's whole family (as they've coordinated a family reunion around this visit) this weekend.
Two Things:
1. I'll post when I get back on Wednesday.
2. I'll post about Sandhurst after I go over with Alex what pictures are okay to post.
(I lied about there only being two things.)
3. Surrounded by pashminas from Afghanistan, I've decided to give one away. It's brown, gold, tan, and very beautiful with an intricate design. But how do I decide?! This is where randomality comes into play. Yay!
The Pretty Basic Rules:
Just leave a comment with your name (or the name you prefer to called) before I come home on Wednesday night. On Wednesday night, after I come home, I'll draw a name, and announce the reciever. You'll email me, we'll chat, I'll get your address from where ever in the world you are and skadoodlebop my way down the post office, make small talk with Stan the mailman about novel writing or school or my big trip, and in a few days it will arrive at your doorstep with a card from me, because I'm awesome like that.
The End of The Pretty Basic Rules.
What do you think? Good idea? Are you in?
La-Dee-Da,
Ally
(Psst! If this gets a lot of response, I'll do it again.)
Updated May 28th: YAY! Christoper Evan drew the name (drum roll please) Gayle! Pretty please email me (tellerly at hotmail dot com) and I'll mail you the scarf!
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I'm nervous. Tomorrow evening I meet Alex's ladies. He has three ladies (other than me) in his life and all three are important to him. His grandmother is a force to be reckoned with and his two sisters are going to be trouble as soon as they hit the teenage years. Let's put it this way: Right now both of them are adorable and in five years these two are going to be gorgeous. Like I said, trouble is coming. It is on the horizon. However, it is right now, and not five years from now, and today I recieved a package from Afghanistan! It's like Christmas, Easter, and the Fourth of July wrapped up in cardboard and bubblewrap each time a new box arrives from down range.
This time, amongst the goodies, there are three extra special items for Alex's ladies.
I'm worried they won't like them and after I leave, get rid of it. I can't handle that. What comes home from my father is special and the thought of someone just getting rid of it when I'm choosing to share cuts at my heart and brings me to tears. As a result, I'm trying to find the right words to say. "I only share gifts my father sends back home with people I care about. If you don't like them, that's okay, my feelings won't be hurt. Instead, let me have it back and we'll find something else that you do like instead." How's that?
That being said, I thought I'd share with you what my dad sent home (That I picked out from pictures!) for Alex's ladies. (Ignore my unmade bed in the background.)
Afghans from Afghanistan.
When we spoke on the phone, his grandmother told me everyone's favorite colors. So you can see the patterns better, I took some up close pictures. What do you think?
For Alex's Grandmother:
For the older of the two baby sisters:
For the baby of the baby sisters:
Hopefully, everyone likes their blankets. I'm not sure. I'm nervous about meeting them and now that the blankets in arrived just before my trip, I'm nervous the girls won't like their blankets. It's okay if they don't. I'll just take them back home and try to find something they do like.
And it all happens tomorrow.
Nerves Of Steel,
Ally
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Anyone want to come over and pack for me?
Please?
Pretty please with two scoops of icecream, rediwhip (Because it's made with real cream and hydrogenated oil was on a special on the Discovery Channel and now I'm afraid to eat food.), and fresh rasberries (Because I said 'How They Make It' on the food channel and you don't want to know how they make what my cousin calls "Mary Ski Note's" cherries.) plus some lovely company to chat to while you pack the clothes of the chatter? Any takers?
Can't say I blame you. I don't even want to pack. There is no way I could Huckleberry Finn my way of out of this one, except if I staged my own funeral, but I'm not sure how well my family would take that on the eve of the eve of my departure. After all, they made plans to drive me to the Airport, the least I can do is stay alive long enough to get on the plane.
To procrastinate, I went poking around The Library of Congress and looking at all of their manuscripts, documents, original copies of great American literature and came across a newsletter that noted The Library of Congress has been featured on the youtube. Am I the only one who finds this fascinating?!
The first video under copyright. It's amazing, the quality of the picture, and the fact that this video has survived for over one hundred years. It's mind boggling, for me at least.
Astounded,
Ally
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