chicken

I’m a chicken. I couldn’t have the conversation with my roomie I promised myself I would have tonight.I was going to be an adult, not bottle every conversation up and let it eat me alive, but rather say “hey, you know I think there are a few things we need to talk about.”

But I didn’t because I was too scared of the result. To scared she would be mad at me, not scared at all that she would say no.

So tomorrow I am going to convince myself that having her mad at me won’t be the end of world. Tomorrow is the day.

moving mountains with teardrops

today could have easily played a huge part in a series of events that I will come back to me, as I look back to pin point where it all went wrong.

I am sitting in the dirty shoebox, which is where they send little boys and girls when they misbehave (also known as my bedroom in the new place.) It is an unfinished room, with one blue wall, and basically has enough space for one full size bed and no natural lighting.

I was an emotional wreck today, basically a mix of feeling grateful, taken advantage of, and too chicken to speak my mind.

Happy Tueday everyone.

home redefined and an additional mind fuck

I don’t come home everyday to bug you. I don’t walk through the door and ask how your day was so you can give me that “wow, you are annoying” look. I wasn’t plotting on the way home how I was going to piss you off tonight, and when I left my dishes in the sink this morning it wasn’t to simply piss you off.

I didn’t pack anything before you got home because I knew you expected it, yet your “You got far while I was at work, thanks” comment still warranted a “you’re welcome.” We get along great except for all the times you forget that NOT EVERYONE IS EFFING LIKE YOU. It doesn’t bug me that the knives are in the wrong slot, or that there are clothes on my bedroom floor. Frankly, you are the only one that has a problem with it, the only one that decides it is annoying- So don’t tell me to make an “executive decision” on something small, because we both know I wasn’t asking for me. If you could chill the eff out, my sanity would appreciate it.

My life’s goal isn’t to annoy you, so stop mistaking the way I live my life as simply getting in the way of yours. I wouldn’t dare waste my time, plus I am sure you would disapprove.

End of Rant, part 1.

Girl movies really mess with my head. Girl movies that analyze girl thinking about boys with boys also analyzing girl thnking are a million times worse.

He’s just not that into is great, frank, and relatively entertaining. But, holy hell, if there is ever a girl move to make you feel lonley, that is it.

End of Rant, part 2.

Furniture Freak-out

I moved out of my old house and into an apartment with a girlfriend from elementary school. She practically furnished the entire apartment (which I was oh-so-thankful for), but it left me just staring at my room hating my stuff. All of my furniture I have had for 4 years. My bed is just a mattress and box spring on a metal frame. My over-sized desk and dresser are two different woods (cheap ones). Nothing goes. I want so badly to have beautiful bedding, nicely framed photographs and fantastic shelving.

***Update***

Upside: I now have a glorious bathroom… filled with carribean blue and choclate browns. And I did it on < $50!

Downside: I sold my soul to Potterybarn for some bedding. Love the look, hate the price.