Tim Promo and Stuff

This Sunday, Tim will be hosting the kickoff to the start of the MTP Senate debate series with none other than Senator Man-on-Dog himself and his challenger Bob Casey, who sucks but is less evil and has, to my knowledge, never brought home a dead baby for his kids to kiss. Damn, I'm glad I still vote in NY and don't have to choose between those losers.

Why yes, I did get the email from the MTP people with the entire fall debate schedule lineup and I'm planning my life accordingly. Why do you ask?

Last Saturday I went out dancing, which was fun. But it was in Fishtown, which is really far away. Why aren't there any hipster dance nights in my neighborhood? Also, this beard thing must end. About half the boys there had beards - in August! Now, I can sort of see how it may be beneficial to have a beard in, say, January because of the cold and all. But Philadelphia summers are nasty, oppressive, brutish affairs and I cannot see how having a big furry layer on your face could be at all comfortable. Plus, I hate beards. Hate hate hate them. And chances are I won't be giving you my number if you have a beard. Maybe I'm shallow, but if I can wax I think the least a boy can do is take razor to his face once in awhile. It doesn't take long and having a chin is attractive. Trust me.

More Crafty Goodness!

I have been crafting like a machine lately. I think it is the combination of insomnia and singledom.

Anyway, this is a shawl I finished last month. I bought the pattern at an LYS and it uses one skein of Schafer Yarns' Anne, which is this lovely hand-dyed wool/mohair/nylon that I'm now in love with. I need to figure out more projects to use it for because I stumbled across this stormy grey colorway and I'm not allowing myself to buy it until I think of a worthy project.

Half-Pi shawl being blocked:


Stitch and color detail:


Isn't it pretty? I'm totally ignoring the fact that I've never worn a shawl in my life and don't quite know how to pull off wearing one because I really like how it turned out.

Embroidery is Cool, Really

This weekend I went to Art Star for a book signing and gallery opening with the lovely Jenny Hart, embroiderer extraordinaire and founder of Sublime Stitching, which sells fun embroidery stuff. Having been buying her patterns for years and stalking her via the internet craft mafia, it was very nice to get to meet her. She is very tall in person and lovely to talk to. So go buy her stuff and see her show, people!

Aren't we cute?



And for good measure, here are some of her patterns that I stitched up awhile ago. I need to find something to do with them. I already have a bunch of stuff I've embroidered on my walls, I think I need some new way to show them off.



I spend most of my craft time knitting, but I was an embroiderer first and it is still really fun to go back to. And it is a cheap and easy craft to pick up if you're looking for something less intimidating than knitting or arc welding or whatever.

Oh yeah, and I got an advance copy of Jenny's new book. Nyah nyah!

Limbo

A brief update:

I talked to the JC last night for a very long time. And I think I'm more confused. I feel better and worse all at once. But I'd like to say hi to him (ha, can't stop reading can you?) and to his little bloggy informers (hello!). The good news is, my books are safe and shall at some point be returned, pages intact.

This is the Last One, I Swear

So I've designated Saturday as my official Over Him day, after which point I will no longer mope, cry, or sulk, and at which point I will go out and start trying to meet shiny new boys regardless of whether I'm ready for such things. However, there are some things I need to get off my chest in the interest of a fresh start. So here goes the venomous bile spewing! Woo!


The worst part, aside from the crushing loneliness and recurrent fears that no one will ever love me, is that everything feels tainted now. The whole relationship feels like one big lie. Even happy memories feel dirty, like it couldn't actually have been happy because now I'm so miserable and apparently he was miserable at the time (even if allegedly not miserable about me). Every tiny meaningless conversation is suddenly being replayed in my head and I'm analyzing every little word, wondering what he really meant, what he was actually thinking, whether he knew we'd never last even as he was implying we had some sort of future.

Like before he went to Toronto when he said I could meet his family sometime. Or when he said that he just didn't mix up bits of his life and that was why I never met any of his friends, co-workers, or family members. It seems so transparent now, like he was planning on doing this all along so of course he never even tried to include me in his life at all, because he never thought I was important or he was ashamed of me or something. Because telling people you're no longer with someone sucks, but if they never knew you were dating someone you get to avoid that whole scene. Or every single time he told me he cared about me. Obviously those were all massive lies. Or two nights before he left me, when we talked about me switching birth control. Why didn't he just tell me not to bother, not to call the gyno to set up a consult, because he was leaving anyway and contrary to what he said, wouldn't actually be going with me or supporting me or caring? Why lead me on like that? Maybe he lied about the girl he kissed, too. Maybe he did get her number, maybe he's with her right now and this whole existential crisis/needing time thing was a clever ruse to get me to have sympathy for him even though he was dumping me.

I can't walk around the city, every block there's somewhere we ate or drank or walked by or talked about. Every time I turn a corner I bump into a memory. But I can't stay at my apartment either, his ghost is there, on the couch and in the kitchen, in the bedroom untucking the blankets. I remember the afternoon I spent nauseous from EC when he brought me ginger ale and stayed with me, napping on the couch while I lay in his lap focusing on not barfing and how once I felt better we grilled hot dogs, Hebrew National of course. Or the time right when he got back from Toronto when he asked why I never wear jeans and volunteered to take me shopping if I wanted and how later that week, my advisor gave me a pair of jeans - apparently we're the same size - she bought but didn't like and it was this weird coincidence. And how then I was at a consignment shop and tried on a pair of jeans on a lark and they fit perfectly and I bought them even though I haven't owned jeans in years and was going to wear them to surprise him but never got the chance. Even my closet is trying to remind me, I can't get dressed without feeling betrayed.

The more I look back, the more I see our problems. Like not meeting his friends ever over eight months of dating. Like barely seeing him once a week. Like how he invariably chose lab over me. Like how I always felt vulnerable and acutely aware of the fact that I wanted to be with him more than he wanted to be with me. Like how I was never I felt I was a priority, I was nothing, I was just some girl to see and screw on a Saturday because what else was he going to do that night anyway? All the times he told me he cared about me sound so hollow when I replay them now.

But more than anything, I want him to call, to say he's sorry, that he made a terrible mistake, that I am important and I was the best thing he had in his life and he blew it and pleasepleaseplease forgive him. And then I feel sad and pathetic that I could let myself think that way, even for a moment. I should have my feminist card revoked for letting some stupid fucking boy bother me this much. But I miss him and I feel so hollow and empty and helpless. I hate myself and I hate him for doing this to me and then I hate myself more for letting him and I'm just dissolving into this messy puddle of loathing until there is nothing of myself left.

Distractions

I still feel horrible. It has been a week, shouldn't I be cured by now? But no, it is like I'm haunted by memories. Nowhere is safe.

But look at the pretty scarf I made my mom back in the spring! Look how pink and lacy!



Yeah, it doesn't make me feel better either. But it sure is pretty!

Puzzles

How could someone that could buy me a Meet the Press coffee mug for my birthday do this to me?

Speaking of, there hasn't been any Timwatch of late as all the news has been too depressing and now that I've gotten used to watching MTP with someone again watching it alone makes me sad.

Twisting the Knife

"Calling just to hear my voice" is just cruel. Saying you're sorry doesn't help.

I wish the ground would swallow me up.

Dying Alone, Take 37

So the JC broke up with me yesterday. He never wanted to be written about, and I respected that while we were together (half the reason I've been updating so infrequently). I figure now, all bets are off.

Things had been okay except for my usual complaints - we didn't spend enough time together and he didn't integrate me into his life - until he started having an angsty existential crisis, prompted by a visit home to Toronto for his brother's engagement party. Now, I get existential crises, I've basically been in the midst of one since I was thirteen. I know how to deal with them and that if you don't, they get worse and then you can't get out without a good counselor. But the JC didn't listen because apparently he made it this far without ever having an existential crisis. Freak.

When you're in crisis, especially one that blooms into full-on depression, you can't push people away because you're going to need them. Yet he just got more and more distant. And even though I was understanding and supportive because I've been through angst and depression and such (and he admits as much) he just kept pushing. Until yesterday, when he decided he was so upset with his life he couldn't see me anymore. Not that he was upset with me, mind you - he actually said that I was one of the only good things in his life - but that he was miserable about everything else and the misery was just seeping into everything. Allegedly he saw that he was hurting me and he didn't want to keep doing so, which is a massive steaming load of shit. If you know you're hurting someone, you stop the behavior that is hurting them. If you don't actually want to hurt someone, you sure as fuck don't decide to leave them because that isn't really how you make someone feel better, now is it? After an hour and a half of dithering and saying he knew he was making a mistake and he was going to regret it and he didn't actually want to walk out the door because he knew he'd miss me, he left. Which begs the question: if you know you're making a mistake as you make it, why keep going?

It doesn't feel real. I keep thinking he's going to call. I'm sure he will at some point - they've all tried to come back, plus he has two of my books that I'm not willing to part with forever - and part of me wants to continue to be understanding. But part of me really, really wants to hurt him. I'm so angry that he tried to make me feel bad for him even though this was his idea and I'm angry that I almost fell for it. I don't know when/if he'll call, but the longer it is the angrier and less understanding/willing to try again I'll be.

The thing is, I loved him. Really. I thought we actually had some sort of future together. Even living with ExMatt I never thought of him as life-partner type material, and not just because he isn't Jewish. I know it is stupid to love someone, to think you have a future with someone, after only eight months together. But that didn't stop me from feeling it. And now I feel so lost. I feel like someone has taken sandpaper to my soul. I can't breathe and I can't stop crying. I'm not just mourning the loss of a boyfriend and a relationship, I'm mourning the loss of the future I wanted us to have. I can't even see myself dating someone else, and my usual breakup response is to find a new crush, a new makeout as soon as possible. But I'm so exhausted, I don't want to do that again. I just want him to not have done this to me.