Apr. 20th, 2009 03:05 pm
jitterbug: (art - good lost)
i've been turned off LJ ever since that writer's block question about your first journal entry. after reading my first entry, back in march of 2001, i went on to read the second entry and the third and fourth... an hour later i was in absolute awe of my own stupidity. the first year of my journaling chronicles little else besides my relationship with p. i met him in september of 2000 but we didn't connect until a few months later. we started "dating" in february of 2001, a few weeks before i discovered LJ.

looking back through those early entries hurts. from the first weeks of my relationship with him i knew exactly what i was setting myself up for. entry after entry of "i know i'm setting myself up", "he makes me sick to my stomach", "i don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth" and yet, somehow, someway, it took 6 years of heartache to finally rid my life of his vile presence.

i kept justifying my involvement with him by telling myself and others that it's not as if i'm sitting home crying on the days he decides i'm not good enough for him. and it was true enough. while i did more than a fair share of crying, especially in the earlier days, i also kept on keeping on; enjoying the company of my friends and forming far more fruitful relationships. the problem was that never during those breaks was i truly free of him. he'd vanish for a few days then come back and if i ignored him he'd stalk me, call my friends, send me 100 text messages a night, wait for me on my fire escape.
eventually i'd loose my resolve to stay as far away from him as possible [after all, i did love him madly. i have no idea why but so it was.] and settle into waiting until next day/week/month when he'd inevitably decide to break up with me again.

i spent 6 years asking myself -- "what the fuck is wrong with you? why do you keep doing this to yourself?" unable to come with any answers, i continued going at it.

what i can't stand now is looking at those 6 years, looking at the insight i had from the first moment yet did nothing about. it makes me angry that i was ever foolish enough to come back for more and more and more. i remember writing an entry about how i felt inferior to pavlov's dogs, because, unlike them, no amount of lather rinse repeat conditioned me to stop doing what i was doing.

[voice mail from p after i told him i loved him] you're a soulless, empty, shallow, easy, naive, fuck of a fuck. fuck you.

he came by my house with a bouquet of flowers. he shaved his head. it hurt to see him. he said he's not here to talk, just to give me flowers and beg for my forgiveness. he left. he called to ask if i'll ever forgive him. i told him i can't be on the phone with him and if there's anything good left in him, he needs to let me be right now. he let me go. he text me saying he wants to die in front of me to make me feel good. how dramatic.

and a few days later: it only took him 5 days to get through to me. i asked him to tell me honestly whether he thinks it would be the right move to forgive him. he said "no". i felt strange all night because i keep thinking i should be angrier...but i'm not and i can't fabricate it for the sake of pleasing myself. i was too tired to fight after i dragged myself home at 10 pm last night after class and found him on my doorstep. i haven't forgiven, but i'm no longer pissed.

in this manner we spent another 4 years.

it makes me angry that up until i started reading those entries i had no idea how angry i was and it makes me even angrier that it is STILL not p i'm angry at. i wish him well and i hope he found peace to calm his psychotic mind. i'm angry at myself for being ignorant of my own knowledge. always.

i'm angry at myself for being unable to feel and retain anger at others. always.
jitterbug: (art - flying man)
[livejournal.com profile] thesaturdaygirl gave me 5 things she associates with me. if you'd like to write about 5 things i associate with you, leave a comment.

old devil moon: odm was one of my favorite places to dine in in nyc. it's not that the food was the height of culinary experience, although it was pretty darn good southern fare. it became a dining staple over the last decade because of that well-worn, well-loved vibe i felt every time i step foot inside. i loved the year round christmas lights, the deer heads, the mismatched ensemble of posters and thrift store knick-knacks adorning the walls. i loved people watching -- the large crowds occupying the entire middle table during sunday brunch; the couples engaged in conversation, the lone diner reading over their plate of jambalaya. i rarely made a plan to go to odm, yet, somehow, i'd end up there many a summer night; sitting by the open windows, no air-conditioning, a cold beer, talking and laughing and laughing and talking with friends/ghosts/family. many a dark winter i'd run in for a quick bite and a slice of pie... all my memories of odm are suffused with calm contentedness and i'm truly sad to see it gone.

cloth-diapering: the decision to cloth-diaper was made largely for the beneficial environmental factors but we definitely considered the economical factors a nice perk. once we started CDing, i fell in love with cloth. it was really darn cute, functional, and worked nicely with my wool addiction. when we moved last month we had to sell our little portable washer used to wash cloth diapers for the first 20 months of elly's life. i also sold a good portion of our diaper stash and am planning to unload the rest over the next few months. we mostly use earth best's disposables now, with an occasional cloth-diaper thrown in. i was somewhat reluctant to go disposable, but without home access to a washing machine and FT classes, i really don't have the time to CD anymore. we CDed for 20 months and i'm pleased that thousands of diapers eloise had used in that time are 1. not laying in a landfill somewhere and 2. went on to be used by another family.

walks in the snow: i grew up in western ukraine, in a small city situated at the foothills of the carpathian mountains where annual precipitation was/is over 60 inches. some of that precipitation was rain, a large portion of it was a constant blanket of snow covering the streets from december into march. it was relatively cold with temperatures dipping into well below zero (celsius), there was little wind. brisk cold air and white as far as your eye could see. main streets were generally plowed after snow-storms. the secondary streets were not. the city had a good public transportation system and over half the population didn't own cars. young children were pulled around town on sleds. walks in the snow pretty much sums up the first 10 winters of my life -- my father pulling me all bundled up in my sled as we headed to kindergarten/store/the park/grandmother's house; walking to destination x all winter long through 2 feet of snow, endless snowball fights; ice-skating on the people-made rink at the small playground right outside my building. my sled and snowshoes were a permanent fixture in our hallway during the winter months. whenever we get a good snowstorm in nyc, i feel at home.

baby haircuts: eloise hair is totally business in front, party in the back. it's fine and curly, and she gets the most insane bedhead i've ever seen. she'll probably have unmanageable hair that will drive her nuts when she's older [inherited from moi], but i love it. it's rock n' roll and refuse to give her a haircut despite constant nagging by my parents. otherwise, i'm pretty indifferent to baby haircuts with the exception of baby mohawks and fohawks which are really cute.

regina spektor: some time in between soviet kitsch and begin to hope, jenna suggested i listen to "lacrimosa". i did and immediately devoured anything else of hers i could get my hands on. off-beat perfection, lyrically and musically. i love that she wrote a song called "baobabs", a literary reference to my favorite book of all-time -- "the little prince" and i enjoy all the nyc references in her songs as well. it wasn't until fairly recently that i found out how similar our backgrounds are: russian jews, same age, immigrated in 1989 via austria and italy, moms are musicians. this doesn't add or detract from her music in any way, it just does make me feel connected to the music in a delusive immigrant fashion.


Jul. 16th, 2008 12:00 pm
jitterbug: (AinW)
backstory: right before i met ian, i had a fling with this guy, d. it was very brief, not at all serious, and i cut it off after i met ian.

the last time i saw him was back in september of '06. he picked me up, we went for a drive, i told him i met someone, he dropped me off.

the last time i heard from him was in december of '06. he text me to see if i was still involved with ian. i told him i was and kindly asked him not to contact me again. the end. haven't heard from him since.

last night i get a text from a # i don't recognize.
"hi isana". "who is this?" - i respond. "it's d. are you married yet?".

a. why in the world would you contact somebody after almost 2 years of not seeing them? [especially considering how insignificant your relationship was]

b. i have no idea if i should respond or just ignore his text.



jitterbug: (Default)

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