Winter of my Discontent

Tomorrow is my family's Christmas, and while I'm looking forward to being with everyone I'm also dreading the aftermath. The grey part of vacation. Two of the most mind-bendingly wretchedly dull weeks of the year.

It's starting to unnerve me. Why am I so afraid of being bored? And why, if being bored is so bad, can't I find anything fun to do? That's pretty telling, isn't it? I have a two-week paid vacation, and I can't think of anything I want to accomplish or enjoy during this break.

And nothing much I want to accomplish next semester, either.

OK, must do some hard thinking, and see if I can't come up with decent alternatives. I can't keep living like this. Barely living like this.

Party Blues

C. just called and cancelled, so I did the right thing and left R. a voice message saying the party is off. Very tempting to have this be a "lucky accident" but I know R. would feel like I was trying to corner him.

I'm going to finish cleaning the house anyway, and have sangria and chicken quesidillas for dinner. Later I can assemble my foil Christmas tree, and watch the last DVD from Lost Season 2.

By myself. Again.

Do this solitude thing long enough and I'll get good at it.

Why do I keep embracing sense when sense isn't helping?

Hot Lips Blah Blah Blah

My fortune today said something about hot lips, but so far the hottest thing I've done has been to tell obliging E about how horrible I feel about R. I'm sure I'll quit obsessing about this in six months or so, but right now I have to chew it to death.

This week -- what I have learned from this?

• I want to be with someone. Wow. That was unexpected. I thought I had decided that issue after my 28th birthday.
• I have more patience than I thought I did. I've let myself think about this issue for over two years, first as a romantic relationship and then as a simple friendship.
• I put too much faith in what I'm feeling, and in what I think I'm reading between the lines.
• I still fall for the wrong men, and fall way to quickly.
• I need feedback, and the ability to talk about issues even though I hate those kind of conversations.
• I can't carry on a friendship -- or a deeper relationship -- with someone who won't pull their load.
• My "guilt plate" is full. I have to offload some of this burden somewhere.
• Listeners are too damn seductive. Stay away from men who listen. Instead find a man who occasionally has something to say. It would also be nice if he has trouble keeping his hands to himself.
• Writing does not necessarily make me feel better.

Which brings me to the end of this post, as I should quit freaking writing and do something useful like prepare for class.