Thursday, July 12, 2012

Bad memories: It goes to 11

Sometimes I just can't help but dwell on the bad stuff. Andy will be upset, but he should know better than to try and censor me (not that he has). I just need to write.

Some years ago, Andy and I  were dating. His "BFF" was a girl named Jessica, a girl about whom I had heard from Andy every sickening detail in the months before we started seeing each other. He claimed to be over her, but even after we were established as a couple, he would try to ditch me to hang out with her, because ridiculously uncomfortable when Jessica and I would talk, and on the one and only Valentine's day we dated, he even tried to get away with going and hanging out with her. Maybe I am petty, and I know I am doing no one any favours by holding this shit in my mind, but I can't not. He was, without a doubt, the worst boyfriend I had ever had. He went along with everything she said: he started drinking because she is a drunk; he started listening to Iron Maiden because she thought they were awesome; he wrote songs about her and recorded them; he goofed around and joked with and cherished her in a way that he never did for me in the early months, and I somehow managed to earn the name "Succubus." He claims not to remember any of this, of course. But that's Andy. He edits the sad parts.

At any rate, he binged out on buying things that Jessica thought was cool, including "This is Spinal Tap." Trying to be an interested party and trying to break into his little world, to be close to him god forbid, I asked him if I couldn't watch it with him some time.

"You wouldn't get it," was the response.

He didn't want to share with me. I didn't push the issue, but ever since then, I have been annoyed while thinking about it. I was, to Jessica (his ultimate puppet master) weak, boring, and worst of all, controlling. I listened to Modest Mouse, Weezer, and Jimmy Eat World, and bands beneath Jessica's liking, bands that Andy himself introduced me to: Motion City Soundtrack, Death Cab for Cutie, early My Chemical Romance.

Let's digress for a moment. When I was 13 or so, I wanted nothing more than the full box set of Monkee memorabilia and Monty Python videos. A late-night infomercial revealed that I could get the latter of the two for only $20 or some shit. When I asked my mother for the Monty Python set, much to my surprise, she said yes. Unfortunately, I never saw the commercial again so never received the gift. Since then, I confess I have started to grimace whenever I hear someone shout "I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION," mostly because it's just so... cliche. We get it. You've seen "The Holy Grail" so often you can recite it in your sleep. So can about 3/4 of the rest of the English-speaking population. It's like hearing a song too often and ending up feeling guilty that you once held it in high regard.

But I was raised on Monty Python and dry humour like that (aside: wtf is wet humour?). Absolutely Fabulous was one of my mother's favourite shows. Her Anglophilia knows no bounds. BBC was always on at my Nanny's (my mom's mom) house when we came to visit. If anyone in their early 20s would "get" Spinal Tap, it would have been me.

So I have this knee-jerk reaction whenever someone says "It goes to 11" one too many times or giggles at the sight or mention of stonehenge. I was never let in on the joke. I only know it from the sparse details I've seen in other movies, on random websites, and from hardcore fans of the movie. I still haven't seen it. I once told Andy how annoyed I was with him about this, and he tried to sit me down to watch it. I refused. It was too little too late.

So, yeah, carrying it around with me? Probably a bad idea. But I can't help it.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

It hurts.

I probably won't tell Facebook about this post.

I've been having conflicting thoughts for the past day or so. Before then, this summer has been... boring. I can't say terrible, because it hasn't been. At worst, it's been discouraging. But I can't handle any of it.

Allow another digression: When my students ask me how my winter break was, or hell, even my weeklong Thanksgiving or Spring break, I reply, "Long." Too long. I get bored. I could be cleaning the house, writing a novel, weeding my garden, painting my nails, making food and freezing it for future meals... Anything, really. I hate vacations though. I just sit and wait for something to happen. I'm a very frustrating person to vacation with, I can imagine.

But in the summer, I have 3 and a half months with which I can do any of the above things and more. Instead, I have holed myself up in my room (I haven't slept upstairs in a while, but that's another very boring story, and nothing to be concerned about) and read Harry Potter twice, the Shades of Grey trilogy once, knit, crocheted, and cried a whole lot. It's almost a nightly thing.

At first, it was because no one would hire me. All the local places would tell me: "you're over-qualified." How in the fuck am I too qualified to need money?! I get that someone with a Masters degree that teaches at the university will probably leave the job at the end of the summer and then they would have to spend money to train someone new.

Then it was because of another job that I interviewed for that someone else got. It was devastating.

I cry constantly. I feel like the world would be better off without me. If it weren't for my mother and father, I'd probably have ended it a long time ago. consider me a coward, but being trapped in my own body is hell. Being trapped in my own mind is even worse than that. I stay up almost all night and then sleep all day. The night it the worst. All of the negative thoughts I have about myself come creeping in while I'm alone and take over.

Then, just the other day, a dear friend birthed a stillborn baby.

I wasn't there, I haven't seen her, and I've never even been pregnant or anything like that. But the pain of it sits with me and makes me feel like a selfish brat. Who the hell am I, sitting here, doing nothing and wishing for death, while my friend is in unimaginable pain? I hurt so bad for her. I have cried more for that child than I have in a very long time.

There's not much I can do about my depression. I've tried lots, and I'm just at a loss and very jaded. I know I am allowed to feel terrible just as much as anyone else. But my friend is out there, hurting worse than anyone ever should. I am selfish.