I just read my last post and I have to say, I crack me up.

I think everyone comes to a point in there lives at which they realize that they hate their major, prospective jobs and their new friend and new identity and they wish they could go back and make every decision that lead them to that point all over again. Well, I have skipped that whole mistake in my life rather effectively and I honestly think that that is why all of my collegiate "acquiantences" have so vehemently discontinued contact with me. Understand, I feel no malicious angst against you, only you actions... or unactions. Yes, your inability to answer a letter appals me, but I still wrote it and I still care. There is time to redeem yourselves, if you only would listen to your gut. Get over yourselves. You will not be any better than I am when you hold you PhD in Philosophy and are working in retail. You will not be any more succesful than I will just by the default of your title because you will still be uncultured, prideful dolts. but I still love you. I just hate the way you don't still love me.

A FRIENDLY NOTE TO ALL MY ASSOCIATES IN COLLEGE:

I am not dead. I do still exist even though it may seem impossible; what with my non-impacting lifestyle and all. I have not changed my name, I have not started smoking pot or having sex, and I still enjoy intelligent life forms. Please don't think that just because I'm not paying exorbenant fees at a beurocratic institute for textbook knowledge and brief over views of world philosophies that I am any less educated than yourself. Please don't entertain the thought of me, sitting on my proverbial tuffet, wondering what to do with myself now that I have no life, comparably speaking. Don't let your mind be fooled or your hearts be troubled, I am hard at work at my four self-educating jobs and with my sitcom "loser" townie friends. When I contact you, it is not because i am bored, lonely, depressed or even free to actually conversate. It simply is an olive branch that I choose to extend to you dorm room quadratist, an offering of peace and continuing friendship even though I am exhausted, frustrated and busier than a Harvard grad during the writing of their dissertation. If you should feel so disinclined as to not conversate in return, please don't use the excuse of homework, school or your new social lives to cover up. Simply say you would not like to speak to me. Don't act like you don't know me, or worse that you can spare a moment but thats all because you have to rush off to your self-important, pompous, pious, pretentious philosophy course or science study- group. The fact is, I was only trying to be a good person, there is no need for condecension, rudeness, or any form of malicious ignorance. If you would like a friend in someone as loyal as myself when you arrive home, simply respond to the 27 letters, 10 emails, and 738 text messages and instant messages that I have stretched and scheduled to send you.

A friendly reminder from your local townie in "i'm too busy but i haven't forgotten how to sustain true and connecting relationships," Maryland.

WELL WE'RE OUT OF CAKE!!

Atleast thats how I feel...

How come the two loves of my life, the only two people I can hoestly say "J'aime avec tout de mon couer" (for those of you who don't speak frech, that's sickeningly sappy) either A.) want to ruin my life or B.) can't remember my first name???

Mr.Heartbreaker insists that I am only pretty enough when he's smashed and when Mr.Hamster is in town he gives me the " Heyyyyy, You!..." face. How can you tell me you love me once upon a time and then FORGET ME?

It's Louise by the way... Louise McLoserson....

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MEN?

I seriously think guys have a radar as to when I actually like them. It goes off and they run away. "WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO WATCH OUT! CRAZY MCCRAZERSON DIGS YOU" The only time its safe for them to come near me is when I have no toleration orfondness for them at all.

Being a nun is quickly becoming more and more attractive. The whole cellebacy thing is in the bag.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD UGH....

Ok, I am a grade a, class one moron!

WHY WHY WHY am I in love with him again? WHY WHY WHY can't I just move on!? WHY WHY WHY WHEN THERE IS NO LOGICAL REASON ON GODS GREEN EARTH DO I MELT AT HIS EVERY TOUCH-- HIS EVERY GLANCE?

I think I will never get over you, Mr. Heartbreaker. My my my what is there to do...

Dear Mr. Heartbreaker:

I am sorry.
I know I hurt you and I wish I could say in all honesty that I didn't mean to, but unfortunatly for you, I did. I made you believe I loved you (which wasn't hard to do because i do love you) and I promised you the world just so I could rip it out from underneath you.

I just couldn't help myself.

If I could plead insanity I would, but I have no one to blame but myself. I cracked under pressure. His words resounded in my head as if it were a 50 foot cavern "I'm done with this." He told me he loved me and he made me believe a world of lies and then he told me I was too immature and stupid and how could I have ever believed that someone as perfect as he was could love someone as flawed as I am?

I had to get back at him. But how?

I devised a plan so decietful, so monstrous, so absurd.

I decided to fall in love. To fall in love with you and to make you fall in love with me and to embarass him. Or to slander him. Or just to get his attention. But, alas, he was impervious. Inattentive. Untouchable.

time for Plan B: I had to make him fall in love with me and pull the same earth shattering ditch on him, claiming I never loved him and ruining his reality.

But the only one close enough was you. You were the only one in sight when I devised my plan so instead of being contented with loving the one man who knew me inside and out, instead of loving you like there were no tomorrow and like I'd never been hurt before- I crushed you. I smashed your belief that I actually loved you, I lied and told you I was done with you.

Now here I am, broken heart in hand, and no one to blame. No where to run. And nothing left.

I should have just loved you. I should ave just accepted who I am and who I was and loved you as best I could.

But I didn't.

I do love you.
And I am sorry.
And there's no one to blame.
Perhaps, just perhaps I am immature...
-Ms. Heartbreaker

ME: ugh Mr.Heartbreaker what are we going to do with me?


Yeah, sometimes the very things I feel make me feel like a fool...

oh lord...

My deja vu...

Country line dancing and Mr. Heartbreaker.

And no I'm not talking about ways I might plot to kill him, nor am I planning a global takover or any other catostrophic event. I am simply relaying to you, most dear and faithful reader, the events of friday night/ saturday morning that make me feel as if I have a slight chance at a thriving social life. Slight, and at that slighty twisted. What am I doing talking to him again? what am I doing hanging out with Mr. "Draw you in with one glance?" perhaps because I am a class A-moron. Or maybe cause he's not such a bad guy.

Who knows...

Mr. Paramour (I cringe everytime I use that word) didn't pass his ASVAB test. I feel like I should help him study or something, but I'm just not allowed. It always seems as though I am compelled to be compassionate towards the wrong people. I had great compassion for Mr. Hampster when his grandmother was sick and look what all that got me-- a whole lotta hurt and an "I'm stuck here no matter what" mantra. What to do What to do??? I think, from now on, it's cut throat policy for me. No one matters but me. Not even the Queen of Denmark...

Sometimes, people who go should just stay gone.

Mr. Hampster came back to town this weekend. He was actually acting like he knew me, which is par for the course when he wants something like two weeks ago when he needed shoes, but this week it just seemed like niceness. I didn't know whether to kick him, cry, or laugh with him and talk about the last three months when we didn't talk about anything. I have so muchI want to tell him and so much I want to talk about and I just haven't been allowed to. I'm not mad, or else I would have kicked him, and I'm not sad or else I would have cried. I just miss him. I miss my best friend. Forever's not too long to be just friends if thats all we were meant to be and I learned that too late. I just want to know what his roomate is like and who he misses most and if he's unpacked and what classes he's taking and who he hangs out with and just everything that's nothing to anyone else. I just want to smell him. And poke him. And laugh at him. God, why does everything have to bee so messed up! Why did we have to ruin this? Why did we ever have to even do this? I don't miss him, I don't hate him, I don't feel bitter, I just-- I just want what was ours to be ours again. I just want to love him and to not be able to say it but to show it and to feel it and to have it.

Some people just stay gone.

PS
Mr.Geri (aka Mr.I'm going to string you along until you think I actually like you then drop you faster than a sack of rotting potatoes and send you home to your mommy) is back in town (twice in one month, what the hell.) Needless to say, this probably won't be anything big, but if my life were actually a soap opera with a team of writers plotting my every move, this could land me pregnant and drunk (or visa versa... whatever...)

Wow... good times...

So high school is officially over at my friend brit-toe-knee has indefinitely pointed out to me. College has started and NO ONE, no, not NO ONE cares about anyone anymore.

I made the mistake of thinking that atleast SOME people might stick around. SILLY ME thinking that my BEST FRIEND of four years might JUST MIGHT not fall off the face of the earth. SILLY ME, thinking that when Mr. FutureMillionaire said that he still had feelings for me that HE MEANT IT and that it actually carried some weight. WHY WOULD I THINK LIKE THAT? Why would I make such an insane estimate of careless, meaningless POINTLESS words? Why would I expect my CLOSEST FRIEND to forgive me and want to be with me like he said he would? I should have never even thought that he might talk to me again. I should have known that he would disappear. THAT'S JUST HOW LIFE IS after high school...

So much for men I guess. Even my "always there never fear I'll catch you when you fall" man has faded in the storm. I guess that's just how it is.

Wow, crumbled cookies are so RIDICULOUS.

I haven't actually written much in the way of substance lately. I guess the only reason for that is my hectic schedule, my two week tropical vacation and the fact that I have talked it all out of me. Yes, talked intelligently and at length with the one, the only, the nearly married Mr.Paramour. (I told you this was getting interesting.) He got mad at me today because I lied to my mom about being out with him. (She says I don't know what I'm getting myself into- obviously not because I didn't know I was getting into anything...) I got mad at him because he lied to his fiance about being out with me today.

"I told her I'm not taking any more of her shit, I'ma tell her straight up, yeah I'm hangin out with her and what, y'namean?-- hol' up Hallo?... Yeah baby I miss you too.... uh-huh... nah baby I'm at the pool ... oh you just talkin to my dumbass, huh? (verbatim, I swear!) oh you gonna call you other boyfriend huh?... yeah, she here...."

What the hell is that, do tell? "Don't care about what they say, I don't listen to her, I just tell her "yeah babe I am gonna talk to Louise, what about it"MY ARSE. "Don't let what my psycho no good girlfriend has to say baout you or to you get to you, but let me lie to her so she don'tknow I'm hanging out with you" I HATE THIS. I HATE HIM TELLING ME EVERYTHING. I HATE BEING FRIENDS WITH HIM. I HATE THAT HE'S WITH HER. I HATE THAT SHE'S SUCH A DOG. I just generally hate this situation. Her family doesn't like him, his doesn't like her, HE doesn't love her, She tries to control every breath he takes.... WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ADULTS? I swear i wish I could just be married and not ever even have the chance to get this involved in someone else's relationship.

Oh yeah and guess who the cat drug in for kelly's wedding saturday all the way from sunny Texas? Mr.Mr. Mr. "I'm too old for you but I'll be friends with you no matter what they say untill it bugs me and then I'll just treat you like something my dog ate and threw up on my carpet" came up for a nice little visit...

"wow, I haven't talked to you in a while, a guess since even before I left... yeah sorry about that... well I hear you're doing well... yeah yeah I'm fine..."

WHY DID HE HAVE TO LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT? I always fell for those sad lonely littlle puppy eyes. DAMN HIM AND HIS EYES! Lookin' at me like that getting me all worked up inside like things weren't ridiculous when he left. Looking at me like he didn't break my heart and make me cry unneccesarily when he listened to every words they said and just turned everything off to me. Looking at me like he didn't give up on our friendship just as easily as he packed up and moved on home with barley a word. Damn him so swooping back in here like that with those eyes.... :(

Oh well...

Mr.Hampster is finally leaving. I haven't talked to him since graduation when, oh yes, he called me a whore infront of everyone on stage at rehersal... I am so glad now that he's leaving. I'm sad that he's a self-centered, pig-headed, unfeeling, low-life, uptight, self-righteous, incestueous dog and that's why we'll never be together. But I think him leaving will be okay. Good even.

But, with college season approaching, many more departures will also inevitably insue. Miss.Loquacious, who I have managed not to kill yet even after all we've been through, is leaving. As is previously unmentioned Cowgirl. (yes, like ye-haw- she's going to school to become a horse TRADER, not TRAINER, mind you)

What ever shall I do all alone and alonely?
1 Samuel 20:42 to all I know and knew.

Mr.Paramour...

This seems to be an ever developing saga.

I seriously jump everytime my cell phone rings my usual ringer because I think it's going to be Mr.Hampster's sister screaming in my ear. (Everyone i like talking to has custom ringers. When I hear my normal ring tone I know I'm in trouble...) I think she might kill me. lol. Kill me dead.

I also think that this is getting to sorted to even write about it out of sheer paranoia. (What if she reads this?)

I guess you interested folk who have become fully enveloped in the story will have to buy the book one day...

I'm sitting here trying to think of a million things at once.
I'm trying to remember the first time I equated being with someone as love.
The first time I realized that hugging or kissing or talking or laughing with someone else meant something resembling this thing called love.
That moment inside of your first sweet summer kiss that seems perfect and endless.
That moment when you forget everything else and just fall into someone else.

And I'm trying to decide who or what first made me believe that I need to feel that way sometimes so that my life may have substance. So that my life may resemble at least something I can settle on; something I can own. Who ever made me give creedence to the fact the we all need to know structured, defined, and clearly expressed love?

I listen to love songs, I watch chick flicks, I go on dates with guys I barely like "just in case he might be the ONE", I dream, I wishon shooting stars, I wear make-up, don push-up bras, bat my eyes, wear high heels, and try my best to woo someone of the opposite sex, anyone, in the hopes that their attentions/affections towards me will be or turn into something resembling a loving state in which I can feel free and open.

AND I DON'T KNOW WHY I BOTHER!

All I've EVER gotten is broken hearts, runny mascara, and a general disdain for the opposite sex.

And all it's ever done for me is MAKE ME WANT IT MORE.

I don't know why I have to feel like I need love to validate my life. Sometimes I think I might rather enjoy not being human so as to avoid the trap of need beyond that of survival.

1 Samuel 20
42 Jonathan said to David, "Go in peace, for we have sworn friendship with each other in the name of the LORD , saying, 'The LORD is witness between you and me, and between your descendants and my descendants forever.' " Then David left, and Jonathan went back to the town.

okay so Mr.Hampster's-sister's-fiance-wait he needs a name...Mr.inamorato... no I'm not in love with him... Mr.Paramour. (We're understanding that he is not my paramour, but Mr.Hampster's siters paramour, i.e. one who assumes the right of a husband or an ellicit lover...Now that the english lesson is over...)

So Mr.Paramour keeps calling me. And calling me... AND CALLING ME. Not that i mind it, in fact i really like talking to him. He's a good listener and a good talker. He's very sensitive and in tune with his feelings and he's very honest and open with me. BUT- in the goodness and flow of pure conversation lies the biggest problem of all: I know that Mr. Hampster's sister would KIL me DEAD if she knew we were talking. CORRECTION (She knows we talk) But if she knew how much and what we talked about. I can tell he and I are treading on thin ice. He's told me so much- about not wanting to marry her, about he desire to go in the service, his future dreams, and just stupid stuff like what makes women hot and how stupid Mr. Hampster is. (Who I have not carried on a conversation with in over 2 weeks- I haven't even thought of him, I'm so proud...)

At any rate, I don't know what to do. I like talking to him. He's like... well, he's like my friend. But I can't help hating her and telling him so and thats not right I know. And she hates me and tells him so and that can't be good.

I JUST DON'T KNOW!!! AHHHHH!

eh...

He came home, but now he's avoiding me.

HOW MUCH FRIGGIN FUN IS THAT?

Yea, I think it's safe to say that I dug my own grave with this one...

He comes home in two days...
He comes home in two days...
He comes home in two days...

I just keep telling myself that to get through the hell of the "real world." Man I hate working. Not so much working, just working 4 hour shifts EVERY FRIGGIN DAY OF THE WEEK. IN RETAIL NO LESS. Oh and tell me if anyone would be so kind, what is the joy of shopping while intoxicated? STOP DRINKING MARGARITAS AND THEN TRYING TO BUY SHOES!! WAIT UNTIL YOU SLEEP IT OFF. I promise the shoe store will be there when you're done with the fire water...

CRAZY PEOPLE...

Yea so we hate Mr.Hampster's sister for a million and one crazy reasons. Everytime we get together with Mr. Hampsters family, we get stuck tallking to HER fiance. Nicest guy in the world. So me and Mr. Slighty-stupid-for-liking-crazy-girl get to talking and decide that we can talk outside of "family" outings. So he calls me last night PISS-ASS DRUNK. YEAH. I think he's trying to give HER a reason to kill me...

OH WELL...