Today's rambling: Unhappy
Written on Monday, Apr. 01, 2002 at 10:11 p.m.
while feeling a bit

I think ABC's "The Bachelor" is a pretty trashy show. A whole gaggle of girls vying for one guy...at the end of 6 weeks, apparently one of these gals is going to get to marry him. He's a Harvard grad, apparently has some money...and they hype him up as being really attractive, but I think he's rather geeky and effeminate in appearance. I think they're all in it for the money, ha ha.

I didn't want to make a judgment on the show 'til I actually saw it, though, so tonight I sat down and watched the second episode. Not like I had anything else to do, since I was home alone (again) and there was nothing else going on.

Most of the girls were just so fake and catty that I wanted to cringe. I guess, put in that situation, a girl couldn't help but be a little catty...I mean, she's trying to win this guy over! I still don't like the whole "cattle show" approach to dating, however.

Whatever.

Here's what I learned today: never mention Geoffrey the Giraffe to Geoff. Ever. He doesn't like it. He's had to endure that joke since he was a wee lad. I found out the hard way today, hehe...Well, how was I to know? It wasn't as if I was teasing him! We were in the back freezer, and for a lack of anything else to say I asked, "Have you seen that new Toys R Us commercial?"

Before the question had even finished passing my lips, I saw his face darken. I'd thought at that point that the expression was just because he had seen it, and his name being used for a toy-selling giraffe wasn't all that amusing for him. I have to admit, I probably wouldn't be too amused by a mascot called "Amber the Aardvark".

At any rate, when he saw me back up a little bit, he told me to go ahead and finish my story. When I asked again if he'd seen the commercial, he said no, but that "I thought you were going to say something about Geoffrey the Giraffe." It's a good thing the lights in that freezer are somewhat on the dim side, so he couldn't see my face redden. However, I'd already started the anecdote, so I figured I might as well finish it. So I told him all about E.T. at the end of the commercial saying "Elliot" over and over, and how the giraffe was like, "No! It's 'Geoffrey' with a 'G'."

I thought it was cute! But for someone who's had his name compared to that giraffe for most of his life, I guess it wasn't so cute. >_< Well, you live and learn.

The nice part was that at the end of the day, I think he was going to wait with me, hehe...Long story.

Yesterday, as most of you know, was Easter. I'd told Mom a couple of days ago that I wanted the occasion to be spent just the two of us. It's supposed to be family-oriented, after all, and we haven't actually gotten to sit down for dinner and spend time with each other since Christmas, probably. She's always over at Charlie's house (have I mentioned that I SEVERELY dislike him?), and we just don't get to spend much time with each other.

Well, yesterday after we'd finished our 4 hours of work, she informed me that Adrienne had called (yes, the same woman who keeps using us), and she asked if she could come over. So Mom, being the general pushover that she is, said yes. I was mightily peeved at first, but I eventually got over it. I dislike Adrienne, but not enough so that I would let it spoil dinner.

As Mom and I were fixing stuff (I was making that scalloped pineapple I spoke of in my last entry), who should call but our rotund friend, Charlie. Hello, how obvious could his intentions be? Could he be fishing for a dinner invitation? Mom went outside to talk to him, and when she came back in she was acting so suspiciously that I just knew she'd invited him. And she had, which I found out after some rather sly questions and remarks. She said he'd be "making an appearance later". I'd hoped that "later" meant after dinner. But I was wrong. He came over FOR dinner, the great fat bastard. You'll have to excuse my language. I am not a happy Berry.

I think I'm going through PMS as it is, so my emotions aren't exactly stable (though they never are...they just get worse during this time). I shut my door and flopped down on my bed, feeling the anger build and build inside of me until I felt like I wanted to hit something or go out in the living room and start screaming like a madwoman. I hate that feeling. I feel all this power building up in my chest, constricting my breathing and threatening to explode at any moment, yet I never let it out. Last night, the best I could do was grab a pillow and scream into it.

Mom came in and asked if I wanted dinner, then said that she'd bring a plate in and tell them that I was on the computer. She said the last part with quite a bit of irritation. See, she doesn't understand why, when I don't like someone, I make no show of hiding it. She thinks it's wrong to let people know you don't like them. I think it's wrong to lie to them and let them think you do like them. At least if you're honest, they know who their enemy is. It's better than being unpleasantly surprised.

Unfortunately, her apparent ignorance regarding my distress just sent me over, and I started crying softly. Hey, I cry all the time anyway, but it doesn't take much provocation to set me off this time of the month. So when she came in with a plate and silverware, I wasn't really able to hide my face. And she started getting on my case. When she shut my door, I put the plate on the floor and slammed the silverware down, satisfied as it clattered against the small portion of uncarpeted floor. I shouted something along the lines of "I didn't want him here!" and this brought her storming back in. She tried yelling at me, but I sat up, turned to face her, and shot back, "I told you that I wanted it to be just the two of us! I DIDN'T WANT HIM HERE!!!"

She hissed at me to be quiet, and I immediately told her no. But of course my mind was so clouded by anger that I couldn't think of anything else to say anyway. She shut the door, still in my room, and said, "You're trying to control me." I said no at first, but she said I was, so I replied, "Okay then. Yeah, sure, I'm trying to control you."

And that was it. We haven't spoken since then, and that happened around 5 pm yesterday. I'm incensed at her because despite me ASKING her if it was okay to spend Easter just the two of us (and she'd said yes), she invited the two people I like LEAST. Especially Charlie. She sees him every damn day! And CHARLIE!!!! What, her spending friggin' nights at his house (she "sleeps on the couch", of course *rolls eyes*) isn't enough for him? He has to ruin MY life by hanging around her like some damn clingy dog? I hate guys like that. I knew he was one of those when he once said to her "You'll find someone better and ditch me."

Advice to any guys who are like that: IT'S ANNOYING. And unattractive. Ugh.

Anyway. I'm sure I acted less mature than I usually do, but it felt SO much better than just steaming silently in my room. I wish I could've had the courage to storm out to the dining room and tell him flat-out that he wasn't wanted and to get his hefty ass out of the house before I forced it out. Make his own friggin' food, the louse. It's not my fault his ex-wife and children want nothing to do with him. I wouldn't, either.

Oo, I'm being uncharitable. How perfectly awful of me. Oh well. I'm sure everyone's looking at me in a different light, but I'm writing this down because I need to get it out. It's not enough to just write it in my paper diary, because I'm not really letting it OUT. I'm an easily-angered person. I've always been like that. Even though I'm so complacent with most things, just tiny little things like RUINED DINNERS can absolutely spoil my mood for days. Because I wasn't just blessed with a short temper, I was blessed with a temper that smolders for awhile as well. I'm thinking it's probably not healthy.

But anyway, the car ride to work today was a little uncomfortable. Mom gets like this. When she's angry, instead of yelling she'll just go quiet and completely ignore you. This has happened to me a couple of times before, so I was fully expecting it. This afternoon after work, I thought she'd just abandoned me, however. So when I saw Leroy and Geoff walk into the clock room, I popped my head in and said, "I think my mother's ditched me!"

Leroy didn't know anything about the fight (I only told Geoff and Frank), but Geoff was like, "An argument's one thing, but stranding you thousands of miles from home..." Heh. So even though I think he and Leroy were going to walk out to their cars together, he hung around with me, and might've offered me a ride home...if Mom hadn't stormed in, glared at me, and snapped, "I'm not waiting around all day!"

That part was a little embarrassing, because both Geoff and Leroy got these wide-eyed "Uh oh, I don't think I should've been here to see that!" expressions. I just laughed it all off, though, and acted like it didn't matter.

"Now do you see why I wanted you to drive me home?" I said over my shoulder to Geoff. He replied with:

"Have fun on that ride home..."

Maybe I can bum a ride with him tomorrow. I'm always the one who cracks first, begging the other person to forgive, but this time I'm determined to hold out. I know I'm partially wrong, but she's in the wrong as well. Maybe I didn't explain to her that yesterday really was important to me. Not that the religious aspect of the holiday means too much to me, but the sense of family would have been nice, since I don't have grandparents to visit anymore.

I almost wished I was on speaking terms with Dad last night, just so I'd have a family member to talk to. I don't really have a family anymore. Dad's side is supporting him and condemning Mom, of course; and I never liked them anyway because they're so arrogant and clique-y. Mom's side is nice, but they're also not all that smart, and they wouldn't understand me if I talked to them. So I have no one to talk to. There are my friends, of course, and I feel wonderful when I think that they'd be there for me if I let them, but right now I feel like I just want family. Or maybe just someone who's been in the exact situation I'm in and understands how uncomfortable it is for me.

I know I'm supposed to be understanding that Mom is going to go out with other guys (though at this point she's still insisting to me that they're "just friends"), and I understand the concept...but I don't like it at all!!! Divorce is an ugly thing. It makes me very reluctant to get married, because the last thing I'd want to happen is for him to say it was over. This isn't just a different form of dating, it's a life bond, and you can't just toss it away because you found someone who's better in bed.

I wish there was a way to see into the future...if a man asked me to marry him, I could just close my eyes and zoom ahead several years into the future and have a brief glimpse at what our lives would be like if I accepted his proposition. I guess I'll just have to date for a really long time. *snorts* I can't even get a date.

Frank said he'd take me out sometime so that I'd have a "good" night (to make up for yesterday), and it's a nice thought, but he's not really the sort I like going out with. I think he's just someone I like mock-flirting with and telling my troubles to. Which is awfully shallow of me. I'm feeling like a terribly wicked person.

It's like I try to be this good, decent girl, but underneath it all there's this darkness roiling, and I feel like maybe that's my true self, that I'm not really a good and generous girl at all. I think maybe that's why I get so jealous of the outgoing girls. It's not because they're pretty, it's because they're always bouncing around like little balls of sunshine. Not that they never have their bad days, but it seems like they're mostly good and they just get those occasional "bad days" that every normal person has. Me? I feel like I'm that black sheep who's hiding her darker self because she wants everyone to only see whatever faltering brightness she can muster up. If I was a Catholic, I'd probably be doing some heavy confessing. But I'm not. And faith is all I have to go on.

I sort of wish I could get down to Virginia right now. The little church that's right up the street from my grandmother's old house (where my uncle lives now) is the only church I feel comfortable going to. I know the people there, and they're all so friendly and welcoming...or at least, they were. I haven't been back since my grandmother died in 1999. Not that I ever went religiously (ha ha), but it felt good to go every once in awhile. The last time I was there, Grandma was there as well, already sunk pretty far into Alzheimer's. At the end of the service, we all got in this group in the front of the church (there aren't many people who go), and they pulled Grandma up and started praying for her.

This church is a Baptist one, I believe, and I'm not sure if it's like this everywhere, but at this church, praying isn't scripted like a Catholic church. It's a somewhat startling experience for anyone who hasn't been there before, because everyone's voices lift up in a discordant wail as they pray for themselves and for others. Sometimes it sounds like singing, a haunting melody that's at once disturbing and oddly comforting. I saw one woman once who acted as if she was possessed, jumping around and raising her arms to the sky.

Anyway, as soon as they all started praying for her, I remember I just burst into tears. And then suddenly Peggy, the woman who gives the sermons (I don't know what they're called for Baptists), hugged me to her and it was I who was being prayed for. I don't think I've ever felt so good since then.

I guess Laura talking about her relatives in MN reminded me of that. I'm not the sort of person to talk about religion often, because my views are different from others, but her diary entry brought back warm memories. Part of me wishes I was living near her now...I just feel like I need something steady and reassuring, and God provides that.

*shrugs and smiles* Sorry for waxing religious on you, Diary. I didn't realize I was feeling so despondent until I started talking to you.