Sunday, March 9, 2008
And then suddenly
the balloon shot up! it rose halfway in the air. It struggles. It bobs. It will not die quietly.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tests
I hate tests--not just standardized scams like the GRE. I'm talking about emotional tests. There are times it seems like my gf is constantly testing me. If she says no I'm supposed to know when she means yes and act accordingly protecting herself with the caveat that I'm supposed to want to do whatever it is that blah blah blah.
Right now I feel like she's testing me in a major way. I've noticed she hasn't said "I love you" at the end of our last few phone conversations. I'm starting to wonder if I'm being tested, that she wants me to say it first or notice or mean it or some other such bullshit. If this sort of behavior hadn't been the norm I'd write it off as paranoia, but it isn't. And the thought that she may have turned the phrase "I love you" into a test really pisses me off. I'm sick and tired of being tested, and feeling that my loyalty is in question, that my ability to support her is in question--how much emotional support has she been able to offer me through this ordeal?--everything is always in question.
Right now I feel like she's testing me in a major way. I've noticed she hasn't said "I love you" at the end of our last few phone conversations. I'm starting to wonder if I'm being tested, that she wants me to say it first or notice or mean it or some other such bullshit. If this sort of behavior hadn't been the norm I'd write it off as paranoia, but it isn't. And the thought that she may have turned the phrase "I love you" into a test really pisses me off. I'm sick and tired of being tested, and feeling that my loyalty is in question, that my ability to support her is in question--how much emotional support has she been able to offer me through this ordeal?--everything is always in question.
Lactic Acid
Overall, the best thing about crossfit that it has seriously reduced my workout time, but boy howdy I am sore this week.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Note on the balloon
It struggles valiantly. It remains floating in the air at half mast. The dog doesn't trust it.
Crossfit and substitutions
Ya know, I like that Crossfit has room for substitutions, but damn it won't matter how hard I abuse an eliptical rider it will NEVER feel like running to me.
It's coming down
I saw my girlfriend this weekend. The visit got off to a rocky start when she mentioned that her friend would get upset with her since she wouldn't be breaking up with me this weekend. (And her friend is now on my list) She did a lot of venting, some of which made sense, some of it sounded like mood swings.
I hate being vague. I fucking hate it, but right now there are too many issues I need to protect, and I can't jeopardize their outcome because of a public blog.
She blames me for a lot of things these days. For moving out, for not knowing when she wanted my support (clue: it helps to state it outright), and for not being around more in a physical sense too. If it wasn't for the sexual assault you'd think I was an emotional clod and she was manipulating me.
I don't know if I'd mentioned this, but one--well, the major one, other than economic hardship--but the stress had become unbearable. Her mood swings were growing worse and I was afraid, genuinely afraid, that I'd hit her. I finally told her this a few weeks ago this was why I moved back home. I was afraid to tell her. I didn't know how'd she take it; it was an X-factor at a time when Xs were fucking like rabbits, little x's were everywhere, and capital Xs were stampeding through my door on a daily basis.
What would you do? The anonymous blogger asked his nonexistent readership. She thinks moving out was the wrong choice, but I'd rather move out and have her break up with me, than hit her. (That, btw, I didn't tell her) Is that love? Is that sacrifice? Or merely a klutzy decision by someone who should know better?
...And at the bottom of it all, no matter what she says or blames me for, I think what she is really doing is blaming me for the rape, and I don't think I will ever be able to convince her otherwise.
I hate being vague. I fucking hate it, but right now there are too many issues I need to protect, and I can't jeopardize their outcome because of a public blog.
She blames me for a lot of things these days. For moving out, for not knowing when she wanted my support (clue: it helps to state it outright), and for not being around more in a physical sense too. If it wasn't for the sexual assault you'd think I was an emotional clod and she was manipulating me.
I don't know if I'd mentioned this, but one--well, the major one, other than economic hardship--but the stress had become unbearable. Her mood swings were growing worse and I was afraid, genuinely afraid, that I'd hit her. I finally told her this a few weeks ago this was why I moved back home. I was afraid to tell her. I didn't know how'd she take it; it was an X-factor at a time when Xs were fucking like rabbits, little x's were everywhere, and capital Xs were stampeding through my door on a daily basis.
What would you do? The anonymous blogger asked his nonexistent readership. She thinks moving out was the wrong choice, but I'd rather move out and have her break up with me, than hit her. (That, btw, I didn't tell her) Is that love? Is that sacrifice? Or merely a klutzy decision by someone who should know better?
...And at the bottom of it all, no matter what she says or blames me for, I think what she is really doing is blaming me for the rape, and I don't think I will ever be able to convince her otherwise.
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