So Evan and I were discussing...something...this morning. I'm not entirely sure what (honeslty I'm amazed that I can communicate with more than differently toned grunts at 7am). But whatever the subject, he started his argument with the word "irregardless".

"Irregardless--".
"Wait--did you just say 'irregardless'?"
"Yeah, so?"
"You know that's not a word, right?"
"What?"
"Irregardless. It isn't a word."
"What does it matter? You knew what I was saying."
"It matters because it completely changes what you meant. Like people who say 'could care less'."
"Huh?"
"People who say 'could care less' when they mean 'couldn't care less'. It's the complete opposite of--"
"That doesn't matter, either! As long as people know what you're saying, it's an accepted term of phrase."
"...Did you just say 'term of phrase'?"
"...I hate you."

Hahahahah. We really shouldn't talk to eatch other that early in the morning, ha.


In other news, I still have no idea what I'm going to do about tomorrow. I don't want to go to the grave. I just don't. I want to live the day like any other and just not think about it. However, that just seems so...disrespectful (even though that's pretty much what I do on the anniversary of my sister's death. I call my mom cos she expects me to and would be hurt if I didn't, but I pretty much just treat the day like any other. She also died 13 years ago, though, so it is quite a bit different). Evan said that if I feel that way I should still do something to honor him, and that doesn't have to be all sad and mopey, but I'm not sure what I could even do. I was thinking that, if I go to Ellwood I could ask Evan to come with me, so at least I didn't have to make the drive alone, but the one time he's come with me to the grave (which I think may be the only time he's been) it just kind of felt...wrong. Same with visiting the Mazzants, which I would do if i go. When we stopped by during Xmas it was just weird. "Hey guys, you remember your dead son's best friend that I'm shacking up with, right?" Ugh. I mean, they've been supportive of me moving on and of our relatioship (even if they did get him confused with Ashton at John Todd and Sarah's wedding, which was hilarious (and a rather easy mistake to make I guess with the whole identical twin thing, even though I don't see it)), so I know that all of this anxiety and uncomfortable feelings are mine that I'm projecting. But still....ugh.

Maybe I'll just sleep through the day. That sounds exciting. Except then I'd have nightmares. Fucking yay. Bah.

I have a feeling that I am going to, once again, be really disappointed with the way the writers of Ugly Betty are going to handle the grieving widow/er storyline. This is the second time it's been set up and the second time where I feel that they just don't quite get it. The first time they tried, all of the issues were wrapped up too quickly. Hilda, Betty's sister, had just lost her fiance and an episode featured her hoarding his belongings, unable to give anything away. Her father gives her a pep talk, tells her how hard it was to give away her mother's things, but how, in the end, he realized he didn't need her belongings to remember her. By the end of the episode, the fiance's things are gone. Boom, crisis fixed. But things don't work that way. When you hear that sentiment you may say "Yes, I know, that makes sense" but that doesn't just Poof! make it easy.

Now, with the current setup, being that Betty's boss, Daniel, lost his wife at the end of the last season, I feel that the same things are going to occur. This portrayal is full of anger, which I am very familiar with as that's where most of my grief poured itself, but I just feel that either the writers or the actors are just...missing something. I just don't feel it. It doesn't feel real to me.

And I know that it's a dumb thing to be bothered by--it's a soap opera based dramady. They're not going to get it. It's just a silly show. It's just that...it's really hard to be understood when you're in that place at a young age. There isn't a single person that I know IRL who understands. Who gets it. Even on that "young widows" support group I used to frequent, so many people were so much older than me that again, they didn't understand and I didn't understand them. So to see such a portrayal in such a prominent show that I enjoy so much it's just...I want them to get it. I want to be able to relate to something. Especially now. On Sunday it will be three years since Danny died. Three years and it still fucking hurts like hell to think about him. I still have flashbacks to watching him turn blue and stop breathing. I still have nightmares where he accuses me of not doing enough to save him. I want them to show that. I don't want these characters to have their grief wrapped up in a tight little bow at the end of the third act. I want them to show the reality--that it Never stops hurting. That, yes, it gets better, but it never goes away.

I'm not sure what I should do about Sunday. I feel like I should drive into Ellwood to visit him, but I just...part of me really doesn't want to. I haven't been up there in a year. I didn't go for his birthday, I didn't go for our anniversary--instead, I decided to celebrate life with my friends but I still feel so guilty for it. I keep questioning how fair it is for Evan that I still hold onto these emotions and how fair it is for Danny's memory that I want so badly to just move on and not think about it anymore. I want so badly to just be happy and okay but I just can't do that, yet, not at this time of the year. My emotions scare the hell out of me, they always have, so when I feel something that painful that strongly, my instinct is to just clam it up and shove it in a box in the back of my mind and ignore it and that's what I want to do--that's what I do do (haha, doodoo) most of the year because...god what the fuck I'm dating and in love with one of his best friends, what the hell kind of person am I, you know? And what the hell kind of person am I to this man I supposedly love if I can't let go of these feelings for a dead man?

I fucking hate this time of year. And it's made worse in that I get so wrapped up in my grief that I can't be there for Evan with his. The anniversary of his father's death and the death of his best friend fall in the same week and how can I be there and be strong and supportive for him if I'm falling apart myself?

Goddamnit. I need to stop thinking about things that make me cry. My head hurts badly enough seeing as how I've had a freaking migraine since about one this afternoon, I don't need to add suppressed tears to the tenseness that is my brain. Fuck fuck fuck, the month just needs to be over with, like, yesterday. Fuck.

Bad thing: that garage attached to my workplace and therefore the back of the store where my office lives for some reason smells like spoiled milk, old lunch meat, and barf.
Good thing: I was able to find some arisol air freshener to spray around to try and clear it up.
Meh thing: Now my office smells like spoiled milk, old lunch meat, barf, and flowers. Goodie.


Good thing: The company decided to give my store new computers since ours were all out of date, slow, and sounded like they would explode if you had more than three windows open.
Bad thing: They didn't give us any prior notice this was happening so as to save any information from the old computers onto flash drives and therefore all of my links and forms and contacts that I had saved to my desktop/bookmarks/Outlook are gone. Things that I use on a daily basis. Great. Thanks.
Meh thing: At least I don't have to worry about my computer freezing/crashing/exploding on a regular basis.


Good thing: Evan's insurance stuff finally went through, backdated to be effective Oct 1st--which was last Thursday when he was in the hospital. So hopefully that will mean that his hospital bills will be covered and maybe he'll even get a reimbursement for his prescription that I picked up for him that day (though I'm not holding my breath on the latter).
Bad thing: There is no bad thing. Just a breath of relief that he now has insurance which has been a huge worry of mine for the past year or so.


Good thing: I finally was able to get my car into the shop as it sounded like it would fall apart and the tail pipe was no longer where it was supposed to be. It also needed to be inspected, oh, in May and I hadn't noticed it cos I never look at those stickers. Oops.
Bad thing: It cost me a grand to fix as I had to replace the entire exhast system. Goody. So far I've replaced the exhast system, brake system, and engine. I've spent three times as much in repairs as I did to buy the damned thing. Stupid car. It double sucks that that took up everything I had saved, plus a good chunk of my last paycheck so I have just enough left to pay bills and then I'm dead broke for the next two weeks. Oh, and no Halloween costume/party for me, as there's no more money saved to pay for it. Boooo.


Meh thing: I've had dreams about Danny every night for the past week or so. Which is understandable seeing as how I had so many flashbacks last week with Evan's seizures and the hospital and such and also because our anniversary would have been this coming Saturday and as of the 25th of this month he will have been dead for three years. It's not uncommon for me to be pretty haunted during October. But still, these dreams aren't pleasant. They all have to do with me finding and dating some kind of Danny replica and getting fed up with him and finding that's not what I want. I know it's all based on the guilt I tend to always feel around anniversaries and things, but it doesn't make it any less upsetting.


Evan, Ashton, and I are going out of town this weekend to visit a couple of their friends in NC. The following must be completed by Thursday night:

-Psych test
-Sociology essay
-study for Chem
-pack (don't forget toothbrush!!)
-tidy up the apt so we have a nice, clean home to return to on Sunday night
-make sure I have enough food/water left out for the cats and their box is clean before we leave
-get my 'script for my Singulair refilled
-call Evan's mom to see if it's alright if I leave my car at her house (as they want to leave from town on Fri when I get out of work, but I can't leave it here because the store will be closed by the time we get home on Sunday)

Went to the science center, today, with Evan and his brother Aston and his girlfriend Yuka. It sounded like a really fun time in our heads, but once we got there we realizes that we aren't 10 anymore and none of the exhibits that are geared for adults were open. Boo on that.

So again, I try to come up with a plan that will keep my mind off of the issue at hand and I fail miserably. Damnit.

But now Aston and Yuka have gone home and Evan's at an appointment and once I'm left alone for a few hours to think and clear my mind and once again I'm overwhelmed by how freaking Sad I am. And I don't know why, really. As awful as that sounds. And it does sound awful, doesn't it? But here's the thing: I love my life right now. As dissatisfied by certain parts of it as I am, I would not change a single part of it. So why, then, do I get so sad with all of these stupid anniversaries and just burrow their way into my soul and I find it hard to catch my breath?

Part of it, at least right now, is a side effect of trying to be there for Liza dealing with Simon's death. Reading her entries is like reliving losing Danny all over again, and it's getting harder and harder to keep up this cool facade of being okay and well adjusted and "moved on". Like I said, I love the life that I have now and I have a hard time even impinging how I would react if I were to wake up tomorrow and things would be as if he hadn't died. I feel so selfish for that. I do miss him so much, but not in the way where I want him back anymore. I think this might make me an awful person. I can't really tell anymore.

I'm sure none of this is really making any sort of coherent sense. I'm really just rambling on in an attempt to keep myself from crying like an idiot over a man that died almost three years ago. That is more than enough time to move forward and to be unphased by such things. Right?

It's easier to deal with these things when Evan's home. Mostly because I feel bad talking about it with him. I know that he doesn't mind and he encourages me to do so, but it just feels...off...to do so and so I don't. And not talking about it makes it easier to distract my mind and therefore I don't think about it and then everything is right in the world because I don't have to worry about these pesky emotions getting in the way of my life.

I think I was meant to be a Vulcan. Things would be So much easier, ha.

Last year at this time, Evan and I had just started dating. When I went into Ellwood for Danny and I's usual lunch date I explained the situation to the air in front of his grave (because that's what you do), and I asked for a sign that he was okay with everything and that everything was going to be alright. When I got home I had an email waiting for me in my inbox. It was from his father, but as Danny was a Junior, his name was showing in the "From" column. When I opened it, it was a message from his dad saying that they had heard about Evan and I, and were happy for us, going do far as to say that it was "destiny" and that they were sure that we had Danny's blessing. I figured that was as good a sign as any, and thinking of it still gives me comfort whenever I get the guilts and worry that I'm being disrespectful by being This in love with my dead fiance's best friend.

So maybe that's what I should focus on whenever I feel this shitty and that outpouring of emotion is pushing against my well defined barriers. That Danny had a plan in all this, and this is how it was supposed to be. Or something.

Or maybe I'm just crazy and repressed and should let myself have a good cry. :-/

Soooo......

So my grampa is out of ICU...actually he's been out for the better part of the week, but no one felt like letting me know until I called them. -_- He's being transferred out of the hospital, but not home--he's going into manor care until he gets a bit stronger. Right now he can't even really walk to the door of his room. I guess he had internal bleeding from a perforation either in the original bowel problem that they didn't catch or from the surgery itself. They drained five quarts of blood from his stomach. Yum. But yeah, so that's good.

I ended the semester with a 3.0, so I am a happy camper. Summer classes started Monday and I just was able to get down to school to get the books today. Managed to do so for under $300, though (well $294, but still...), so that's a nice surprise. I don't think I've had a semester yet where they weren't at least $500. So yay for that!

Danny's birthday is tomorrow...would have been tomorrow...whatever the correct grammar is there. He would have been 25. I've been debating all day whether or not to drive into Ellwood tomorrow to go to the grave. One the one hand, I feel like I should, and we have a lunch date to keep (I have a tendency to get take out from the Chinese place we used to frequent and eating it up at the grave. Yes, I realize how morbid that is), on the other hand, it's an hour drive and I have a lot that I need to get done tomorrow on my one day off for the week. Evan suggested that I just call Danny's mom and catch up with them (as I usually stop by their house whenever I go into town), but that just doesn't feel like enough. I feel like I should either do all or nothing.

It's so strange to feel this disconnected with all of that. It's been almost three years since he died, but it feels like a million years have passed. This life that I have now isn't one that includes him and so it just feels so...strange in some surreal way to go back in time and think about such things.

A lot of it has to do with my utter inability to think about it without getting upset. Still. After three freaking years. My way of dealing with things that bother me is to just...not deal with them, which I know is far from healthy but it keeps me an active member of society.

I dunno. We're resigning the least tomorrow morning, so I guess I'll see how I feel about it then.

I wish I could think about these things and not feel like I'm either betraying his memory or my current relationships. Bah.

In other news, I am currently not wearing any pants.

I'm tossing a few story ideas in my mind. One is part of the children's series I've been haphazardly working on for the past year or so. It's an idea I already had and have tons of notes on, but I feel like I should actually get the damned thing written.

My glasses broke. I'm bummed because I have to now wear my backup pair, which are cute, but you can totally see how thick my lenses are, even with the extra thin stuff on them. Bah.

This was the most interesting update ever.

I feel awful. I'm all light headed and dizzy and just all around sick. I started feeling this way while in the tub a few hours ago. Maybe it's the tea I've been drinking. I've never felt like I was going to pass out while laying down, before. Ugh. The sucky thing is that I feel so ill I can't really focus on my homework, so I've decided to just...not do it. I'm an awful student like that, but really, there is no way I can focus enough to write a rough draft of a paper right now. I'll do it over the weekend.

Went into Ellwood for my gramma's birthday. It was, of course, at my family's restaurant, which really was the last place I wanted to be, but whatever. Afterwards, my uncle wanted to show off the remodeling that he had done to Danny and I's apartment behind the restaurant that is now being converted to conference rooms. I was amazed at how...small it looked. I don't remember it being that tiny. They knocked a wall out which should have given the illusion of more space, but really it was just...so small.

The thing that's been bothering me is that I was going to go into the apartment anyhow, just to see if I felt him there.

I didn't.

I don't know why I was expecting to.

I've been listening to the same song over and over again, today. "Compromise (Be a Poet About It) by Edie Cary. Not sure why. Maybe because I really want to write a song, but can't find the right words. I'm still really not sure what this emotion is that I'm feeling enough to put it on paper, never the less to music. It's been a long time since I was inspired to write a song. My mind is just so muddled right now...

Evan and I booked our tickets for Europe, so it's official. We're going to Europe for spring break. I'm excited.

I'm gonna pull out the guitar and then get some sleep. Or something.

I seem to have lost my ability to read people. Either that, or the last few boys I've been interested in are just impossible to read.

I went out with Harry, tonight, to the movies (saw the Bucket List, which was great, by the way. A bit bittersweet at the end, but still really good).The odd thing is, then, that when he dropped me off at my apartment, my goodnight kiss was nothing more than a peck before he pulled away. Okay, I get the hint, he's not that into me. At least that's what that says to me, specially after we've made out a few times, so I think we're past the awkward goodnight kiss stage. But then he says that he should be back in town in a few weeks--he has to go to Italy (he works for an Italian company that has offices over here) for two weeks, and what should be bring me back? I told him to "surprise me", but now I'm super confused. I'm fine with the idea of him not being into me--he lives on the other side of the state. I don't know why I'm getting myself involved in the first place, but, unfortunately, he intrigues me. But why, if this is the case, would he offer to bring me back something from Italy and make sure to let me know when he's coming back? I am so confused. I want to ask him what is going on, but I don't want to be 'that girl". I know I've been out of the game for a while, but I don't remember things being this complicated. Why can't I find another boy like Danny who wore his feelings on his sleeve? I never had to be all self conscious or questioning with him, I knew from the first time we hung out how he felt. Stupid boys.

Speaking of stupid boys, I think Rob's back in town, but he didn't return my call, though I did speak to him online a few days ago. Ah well. I made my effort. If he's serious about wanting to stay friends, it's his turn.

This has just been an all around disappointing week. Over the weekend Gregg was in the area for a wedding and we were going to get together when he drove through around here on his way to Niagara. I ended up having to work, but he was going to visit me there, so I gave him the address of the restaurant. Turns out, for some reason, there are two Cranberries in this freaking state, and the one he ended up in is two hours in the wrong direction. So that killed that idea, which sucks cos I really have been missing the kid for some reason. I haven't seen him in almost two and a half years or so. Boo on that.

Then Harry and I were supposed to go to the Improv Sunday night, but, based on him having family things to take care of (his grampa is sick and he had to take him to the hospital for preventative measures), a miscommunication (he thought the show started later than it did) and awful road conditions, he didn't get into town till way too late to do anything seeing as how he had to wake up early for work. So Evan came over and we watched Idiocracy, which is awesome enough that it almost made up for it. Almost.

Then yesterday, when I got out of class, I discovered my battery was dead. That was exciting. Of course this is also the one day that I forget my cell phone at home. It took me an hour to find someone to jump it and get enough juice for it to turn on and by the time I got home, ran in, c hanged, and got to work I was almost a half hour late. And actually, seeing as they, for some reason, thought I would be in at three (which is impossible as I don't even get out of class till almost 230), I was, by their standards, even later. Grand.

My English professor is sadistic and assigned us 60 or so pages to read for tomorrow, which meant I had to go get my books, today. Stood in line for an hour and a half or so, and ended up a bit late for Algebra, which sucks cos I need every moment of class time there I can get). I'm doubly bothered by my English class because we have to analyze poetry, which is one of my biggest annoyances with lit classes. Why do people automatically assume there are higher meanings and symbolism in poetry? Yes, I know that, generally speaking, there are, but what if that's just a generalization made by people assuming there will be? Can't a person just write something because they feel like writing it? Why does there have to be more to it than that? And, of course, we mostly study poetry by dead people who can't stand up and say, "No, really, I just felt like writing a poem about a wagon". Ugh. I am not going to enjoy this class, and that bothers me.

Good thing, though: my final project for my Children's Lit class is to write/illustrate a children's book. I'm excited. I'm considering doing something explaining death/grief to kids in a secular way. Something that I would have liked to find when my sister was dying. Paired up with the fact that I'm taking that Psych of Death/Dying class, I think it will work out in an interesting way. We'll see. It will either be that or something about a sock monster who lives in the dirty clothes under your bed.

Class and then work, tomorrow. Fan-freaking-tastic. I'm kind of sad that I'm not going to bed with a goofy smile on my face because of a boy. Stupid confusion.


OH! I forgot to add: I dreamed of Danny last night. Was the first time in a long while. I forget how it was set up, but he just showed up at my apartment and I was really excited because I thought that he had somehow come back from the dead. I told him all about going to see his family for Xmas and then mentioned the Death/Dying class that Evan and I are both taking. He looked sad at that (he never spoke in this dream for some reason, but I could tell what he was thinking in a telepathic dream way), and I told him not to be upset, because it wasn't just because of him that this class would be good for the both of us to take. We both had lost people close to us (my sister; his father) and this might be beneficial for those reasons, as they were both terminal illnesses, than because of him, because his death was sudden and different. But it was okay, I told him, because he was back now, so it didn't matter. He looked even sadder at that statement, like he was going to cry and then I realized. You're not really back, are you? I asked. He shook his head. I'm dreaming, aren't I? I asked. He nodded, and we both started to cry a bit and so we kissed, and it was...strangely awkward. As if I have gotten so used to the kissing styles of other boys (all....two of them that I've kissed enough to pick up style), that I forgot his. Which is a sad thought. But then I woke up.

I miss him. I miss dreaming of him, too. It really has been...god, months, since I have. At least like that, where there was interaction and knowledge of his death like it was a visit of sorts.

I want so many things right now that I have no idea what I want. Strange how that works, innit?