�I�m not religious. Religion is corrupt.�
Okay, so I have a new cell phone number now. My mother decided, on a whim, to switch to U.S. Cellular. So...my new cell number is (515) 979-3789. I got a pretty kick ass phone, too...color screen and everything. Huge upgrade compared to my other one.
Anyways...I just got done �debating� with my brother about strip clubs. He went to one tonight, and decided to share it with me. I just shook my head, commenting, �If Brandon went to a strip club, I would be pissed off.� My brother asked me why, of course, and so I explained to him that if Brandon went to a strip club all of a sudden it would give me the impression that I was not enough for him, that my body was not pleasing enough and so he had to go look at someone else'� body. No, several other bodies.
Britt lectured me then, saying that I was controlling and the by forbidding brandon from going to a strip club I was being overbearing. Well...I pointed out several things.
~1~ I never forbid Brandon from doing anything [except shaving his head]. If he wants to go to a strip club, that�s fine. Whatever he wants to do. Hell, I don�t care if he thinks that a strip club sounds appealing. He�s a man, and men seem to like strip clubs. A lot. I don�t care if they strike his fancy, I�m not saying that he can�t go. I just won�t be very happy if he does.
~2~ The whole principal of a strip club really irks me. I mean, whether it is men or women dancing, do the people watching really give a damn who they are? As long as they have a nice body and a pretty face, it�s all good. It�s a very shallow idea, and it�s only using those people as sex objects. My brother pointed out that he was only going to look at the bodies, not do anything with them. I responded with my third point.
~3~ It�s the whole thought behind the act. He is going to draw pleasure from some random chick. As I said before, he doesn�t care what her name is, or anything else about her except for the fact that she has nice boobs. He is treating those women as objects and his own personal outlets for his lust. He�s not going to sketch them for an art piece, he�s not going for medical research purposes. He�s looking at their bodies only for pleasure. Maybe I�m just conservative in this respect, but I just think that a person�s body is something private, something sacred, that should be shared between them and their partner. But maybe that�s just me.
Speaking of my brother, I am rather annoyed with him for other reasons. Or, I suppose just one. I was standing in the kitchen some time before our debate and my brother walked in, announcing, �I think that you should break up with Brandon.� I asked why, to which he answered, �Because I want to date Brittany.�
Brittany is Brandon�s sister. And that�s very wrong. My brother decided, as we started arguing, that since Brandon and I are not married [yet] it would be all right for him to date Brittany. No.
Just no.
Oh, and here�s the kicker: he likes her because she�s cute and has �nice totties�. AKA he thinks that she has big boobs. He�s the epitome of a shallow, moronic, typical teenaged male. Now, I have gotten the impression that Brittany is rather intelligent, and so I am hoping that she sees right through his pseudo-charm and �We�ll go only as friends.�
Please. Shoot me now.
Anyway, now that I have those two topics covered I am going to continue on as I should: in chronological order. I started to talk about Brandon�s reaction to my drunken escapade the other day, but I think I will give you the short second half due to the fact that I have moved beyond that now, overcome that particular obsticle.
Basically, Brandon was extremely angry with me. But hey, that should be pretty obvious. He more or less told me, with more than enough justification, that I was a hypocrite and that he didn�t know if he could trust me anymore. All true. He also pointed out my tendency to try and turn things around on him when he gets angry with me, so that some of the blame is lifted from my shoulders. Also true...and that�s rather odd, seeing as how, when all is said and done, I end up taking all the blame anyway. That�s not his fault, though, I do that to myself.
We talked it out, however, even though it took until about 3:30 in the morning. We jumped that hurtle, only to have a couple more tossed our way. But those will come in due time.
Before I move on to the happenings of this week, I just want to share one more thought on all of that. Throughout my dating history, I haven�t always been faithful or honest, and with more than just Brandon. I�ve always been somewhat of a flirt, and a hypocrite to boot. But...I find myself wanting, and sincerely trying, to change that all for Brandon so that I can really be the wonderful person he thinks I am.
And now to the recent events. First off, let me just warn you that I am no longer taking Zoloft. My mom and I both decided that I really don�t need to be on it, and it wasn�t doing much for me. I have also stopped seeing Jeanne, because she was not helping me at all. It seemed that all she did was blame my problems on everyone else. In fact, the only person she actually seemed to like was Brandon.
According to her, I have anxiety and self-esteem issues, and my overall mood in every day life is subpar. Why? Well, because of my family. It�s my mother�s fault in the fact that she always sounds angry with me when I try to talk to her and she doesn�t support me enough. It�s my brother�s fault because he physically and emotionally abused me as we were growing up, and is still emotionally abusing me. And it�s my father�s fault because he was never there and still isn�t.
See? With Jeanne she never let me take responsibilty for my own feelings. I was always sad because so-and-so made me that way. Please, I�m not that naive.
I have had a recurring nightmare for the last several years...it had gone away for a few months, but last week it returned with a vengence.
The events of the nightmares are always different, but they all end up the same: somehow or another I find myself in a fight with another person. Sometimes it�s someone I know, sometimes it�s a complete stranger. Sometimes it�s male, sometimes female, and sometimes a hideous monster. But no matter who I find myself up against, the same thing always happens.
I lose the fight from the very beginning. They beat me down to the ground, showing no mercy as I make no attempt to even fight back. I open my mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, to do something. But...nothing ever comes out. No matter how hard I try, I can�t make a sound. My assailant only laughs and continues the vicious beating. The crowd, if there is one present, watches with identical, androgynous faces of stone. No empathy, no pity, no emotion whatsoever.
It�s at this point that I decide I need to try and do something for myself, because none of the drones seem to want to help me. I push myself up from the ground, wheeling around to face my attacker. They simply stand there, ready to counterstrike the moment I move. With as much speed and brute strength I can muster, I swing for their chest. But something odd happens, just as my fist is about to make contact with their ribs, over whatever part of the upper body I have aimed for. My swing doesn�t slow, nor does it shift in anyway except I suddenly feel as though I have nothing left in me. My fist strikes with as little force as that of a baby, leaving behind no pain, imflicting no damage. I try again, and again, but the result is always the same: I can�t hurt them. My opponent laughs, knocking me flat once more to resume the beating.
It�s usually at this point that I wake up, sitting bolt upright with a cold sweat breaking out across my brow.
I stole Brandon�s shirt from him last weekend...and I decided to wear it today. Peculiar as this may sound, I can�t stop smelling it. It smells just like Brandon, seeing as how it�s his shirt and all. And, as you know, I am addicted to Brandon�s scent. He just smells so good...
I�m such a dork.
My birthday, which was Monday, was...nothing too notable. It went all right, but there were moments that varied in their extremities...some were very fun, others very disappointing. I had fun at school, and had people telling me cumpleanos feliz left and right. Brandon also came over to see me, and he gave me my birthday presents. I got lots of chocolates from him, which are now gone, and a beautiful necklace. It has three small rings hanging from it; one which resembles an engagement ring, one a wedding band, and the other an anniversary ring. They are all supposed to symbolize love, trust, and commitment, but I am not sure which ring stands for which concept. My mom had ideas, but I have forgotten already.
Brandon and I also got into a small spat on Monday night, which I will not go into. It is also another issue that we have escaped from, and I do not wish to bring it up anymore. It was not a fun way to end my birthday, however; I ended up slapping him.
When I told my friend Luke about the occurance, he wanted to know right away if Brandon and I were still together. I answered affirmatively, and Lucifer was extremely disappointed. You see, Luke has the idea that he needs to set me up with Betsy. Why? Because Betsy is looking for a serious relationship, and so when she told that to Luke he immediately thought of me. Uh huh....
Nick had a different response, although it was similiar in some respects. He made it a point to tell me that he thinks, and has had the idea for quite sometime, that Brandon mistreats me. In fact, he even wrote a diary entry about it. So that I don�t have to reexplain his message, you can read it here.
Tuesday was a hoot, simply because of the fact that I got revenge. You see, a friend of mine by the name of Elliott has been terrorizing me since we met in the seventh grade, constantly making fun of me and cracking jokes about the Beatles (whom I love).
Elliott is in my Honors class, and it has been decided that since he says so many incorrect and all-around stupid things, he is not allowed to talk on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He does anyway, and on Tuesday it was especially terrible. He was going on nonstop. And so, in the middle of class, my other friend Alex pulled a roll of duct tape from his bag. He handed it to me, since I sit behind Elliott, and as soon as Elliott�s attention was diverted I jumped up, tape in hand, and wrapped it around his head. Everyone had a good laugh, and class resumed. With the tape still wrapped around Elliott�s head.
Well, at the end of class the teacher, Mr. McD, decided that Elliott should remove the tape so taht people didn�t wonder what in the world we got up to in Honors. McD started to help Elliott, slowly removing the tape until he got to the back of Elliott�s neck. Then he stopped, frowning.
�I can�t do it,� he said, �I�m afraid I�ll hurt him.�
We all advised him to pull really fast, and that way it would be over quickly. He still could not do it, and so he invited me to try. Baaad idea.
I grabbed the end of the tape and reared back, not even giving Elliott a second to prepare before I yanked the tape off as fast and hard as I possibly could. Elliott�s head jerked around as he yelled, �AHHH!�
And once more the class erupted in laughter. McD couldn�t decide whether he was annoyed or amused, but ended up laughing with the class while simultaneously making sure that Elliott did not suffer from whiplash.
Elliott was fine, save for the large red mark on his neck. Now whenever he sees me he yells, �Elliott maimer!!�
Not much has happened since then. I don�t have school tomorrow [er...today?], so I am going to go shopping for decorations for my birthday party on Saturday. It should be a blast...I can�t wait. Yay, parties!!
I have realized another terrible habit of mine. When I am talking to someone, and I even get a little annoyed or frustrated, I get this edge to my voice that makes them think that I am angry with them. I did that to Brandon earlier, and I felt terrible. But I made sure to explain to him that I wasn�t angry, just trying to point something out to him.
I also talk a lot when I am angry. I can go on a rampage for hours...so Brandon has decided that the next time we are at a large social gathering and I am being shy and reserved, he is going to start making sexist jokes so that I get angry and attack him. And anyone that laughed.
And then they�ll be sorry. They�ll all be sorry....they�ll never know what hit them.
I should have a hurricane named after me. That�s my goal before I die...see the birth of Hurricane Victoria. Mwuahahaha.
Evil plots.