sundog

January 14, 2008

The truth about unrequited love.

Filed under: My Life, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p01

I met his girlfriend (fiancé?) today. Up until now, it hadn’t seemed real- his being engaged, and all that. It was like a sad rumor no one knew much about and thus made no attempt to quash. But seeing her, there, in person, it was an experience I’ll never forget.

Watching her, talking to her and knowing what she meant to him had me feeling so many different emotions I was afraid I’d explode.

Naturally, I was jealous. I was so jealous I could’ve easily clawed her eyes out. I was jealous that she had him- she had him mentally, she’d had him physically, she was the one who got to feel his powerful hands wrap around her waist instead of me. God how I longed for those powerful hands.

I was angry, and confused. I mean, I’m about a thousand times prettier than her, thinner, with better hair and cooler clothes and a more glowing (albeit oily) complexion. I’m more cheerful and I was angry he couldn’t see that, and confused as to why he chose her.

I felt guilty. Guilty looking into her eyes and realizing that it was her man I’d been attempting to flirt with for all these weeks, her boyfriend, her fiancé.

Even more strangely, I felt more love for him than ever before. It was this girl who he was faithful to. This girl who he thought about during all those quiet hours at work when I sat wondering if he’d ever think of me that way. It was her he loved, and I loved him even more for being able to love someone- even if it wasn’t me- to such an extent.

Of course, I was sad. I was devastated. I could easily have cried. She had a face now. It was all confirmed. They were in love. I was sad that I’d never been so completely in love with someone (even Pete)- so utterly faithful.

She was nice. Not all that to look at (strange hair, but then , looking at him, they probably do each other’s hair), she was a bit chubby and her fashion was a bit boho for my liking (nothing like I thought she’d dress like). She seemed sweet. I avoided seeing them together because I was afraid I’d had a “I love your boyfriend” tag on my forehead- it was awkward enough.

But in the end I figured it out. Kinda. I’m still working out the finer details but I’m hoping this post will help me out. I mean, why did I like him so much in the first place? That’s what J asked me, and honestly, I knew. I fell so in love with him because he’s different. As well as his hair and his taste in music, but different in the way he acts. He doesn’t pay me the attention I’m so used to getting from other boys. In fact, as J put it, he ignores me. Call me a sucker for punishment, but he’s a puzzle, a challenge. I found that so frustrating, but so sexy. Word, huh?

On top of that, and this is the biggy- I have the inexplicable need to be liked, or at least to know where I stand. I mean, if a person hates me, that’s all good and well, I know how to act, how to feel and where I am in relation to that person’s opinion of me (yes, opinions matter. Noone can pretend it’s any different). But, he was indifferent. And that hurt me and intrigued me more than anything in the world. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t want to get to know me, to strike up casual conversation- nothing. He was perfectly happy to go about his own life in his own world with his friends and his fiancé (Jane, I think her name was), regardless of whether I lived or died, went to work of lived in China. He didn’t care. I wanted to make him care.

I guess, while I’m spilling it, I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. For all those hours I spent staring and daydreaming and wishing, I knew he’d never hit on me, I knew he’d never ask me out or try anything- nor would he hold my hand or hug me, but it was the safest- and most painful- relationship ever. There was no obligations, I’d never have to get my Mum’s approval.

I just can’t handle the thought that I am so preoccupied, so obsessed with how other people view me or react to me that I’m not living my life. My friends, my family, they all think I’m so strong and so confident- I only act that way so they’ll feed me the attention and positive vibes I need to uphold my façade of confidence.

My obsession with him ends today. They say you can’t chose who you fall in love with, but I can chose to fall out-of-love with him. It’s detrimental to my emotional health and I don’t need that.

I want to be free of this nonsense and it wont be easy but it’s got to start somewhere. I want to be as carefree as people think I am. I want to live up to that- to prove to myself that I can.

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December 10, 2007

Checkouts, Brett Lee, Scrapbooking

Filed under: Friends, My Life, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p12

Working as a checkout chick the past few weeks has revealed a few things to me, and confirmed some others. Firstly, it’s made me realize just how heartbreakingly sad the lives are of some of the people in this town. It’s served to reiterate just how lucky I am to be boarding away from the filthy environment and stale atmosphere of the place, and it’s taught me just how capable I am and just how lucky I am to have a mind that works the way mine does- to establish right from wrong, o act in a mature, sensible way, to be NORMAL.

It’s made me realize that I don’t want to be working like this, repetitive, monotonous, bland, for the rest of my life. I want adventure. I want creativity and excitement and laughter.

The Egyptian trolley boy has asked me out a few times- I’m really bad at this sort of thing so I don’t really know what to say. He’s sweet and funny all that jazz, and we all know I have a soft spot for foreigners with accents, but, let’s face it- he’s an Egyptian immigrant. He’s a trolley boy. He’s 20 something with a name I can’t pronounce… It’ll never work out.

It’s now I begin to wonder if I’m shallow- and I know the answer is a yes. I’ve always been in it for me, though, If that makes sense. I always look out for what’s best for myself. If I can help someone out or cheer someone up along the way, great, but let’s face it- when was the last time I did something completely selfless, without hope of a reward?

I miss Casey. She doesn’t know it and I won’t be the one to tell her. We’re mates through convenience- she’s my rock and I’m hers at Boarding. But it gets lonely in this house and I took her presence for granted a lot of the time.

Nush got back from Canberra the other day, I called and asked her how it all went. She had such an awesome time and saw so many cool things it was hard not to be jealous and resent being stuck in this God-awful place for the next two months. It makes me pity myself and I hate that feeling. She even saw Brett Lee!

“OMG guess who I saw at the airport?”

“John Howard?”

“No. Brett Lee”

“No way- he’s like the best spin bowler ever!”

*silence*

“He’s a fast bowler”

*silence*

“That’s what I said”

Tomorrow’s my day off, I’m going to work on my scrapbook. X x

January 13, 2007

The male mind is almost as complicated as the female one.

Filed under: Friends, My Life, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p01

I wish there was a way to get inside a boy’s head, which didn’t involve putting yourself out. You see, there’s a guy. (I know, with me, there’s always a guy.)

But this guy is different to all the others… well, to an extent. I mean, his smile still makes my knees weak, when he says/ does something nice I try to give the biggest/cutest/nicest smile all at once, I find myself thinking about him at the randomest moments (ie. all the time), and wondering if he’s doing the same… but that’s about where the similarities end.

And so, this crush, as with all crushes, comes with complications. In this case, more complications than usual.

Problem 1: Age.

You see, you wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he’s 18. No getting around it, my (slightly overprotective) Mum would disapprove greatly, and we won’t even get started on my Step Dad. I’d pick him for 16, 17 at the most. But nooo God had to go all kooky on us and have him born 3 years before me.

Problem 2: Appearance.

He is as far as you could get from Pete. In fact, he’s a far as you could get from any guy I’ve ever crushed on in my life. I guess that’s what trips me out most- he’s not my usually definition of “hot”, or “good looking”… at most, I’d go for “cute”.

Problem 3: Reality.

Reality is, he has a crap job. He has a not-quite ancient car, and my Mum is a Nazi when it comes to boys. She pulls this face and I tune out somewhere between “Only interested in sex” and “Why don’t you stay single for a while?” Reality is, I’m moving away to boarding school, and I can’t trust myself with long-distance things.

Problem 4: My Feelings.

This is probably what wakes me up most at night. I don’t know whether or not I truly like him, or perhaps he’s just an outlet for my built-up flirting muscle? Maybe I’m just desperate for some action and/or attention? Worse still, maybe I’m just an attention seeker.

Problem 5: His Feelings.

Well this is the part where I want to throw in the towel and walk away. As of yet, he’s not made a move. (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve known him just under a week… but still!). Subtle hints, like a smile or eye contact that lingers just too long… Or maybe he’s just being nice. I mean, is it too much to ask for a guy to get down on one knee and have flowers delivered to your door? I’m joking, guys. Though at least if he did that I’d know how he felt.

So the way I see it, it can go 3 ways:

1. Ask him out, with blessings from my folks. Get a yes, have a great little fling, perhaps continue it on next holidays.

2. Don’t ask him out. Sit around waiting and wondering, realise we’re just friends, find someone else to turn my attention to.

3. Ask him out, get a no. Be sufficiently embarrassed for the rest of my natural life and have to work with him every day.

4. Ask him out, have my folks hate him, things go sour, everything sucks at work.

5. Don’t ask him out. Maybe he likes me back, maybe not. Go off to boarding school and never know what could’ve happened.

 

We can all see which is the most desirable… but the truth is, I’m a stupid whimp and chances are it’ll remain a one-sided love affair until the end of the month. =)

July 19, 2006

No Way In Hell

Filed under: Angry, Friends, My Life, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p07

I got the job…. And I turned it down. I guess I lost sight of what was really important. I wanted a new job so much, I didn’t see how good I’ve already got it. I know it sounds so silly, and i know I sound like such a big hypocrit, but I wanted change so badly that I just didn’t see how good I already have it. I guess it sounds so silly to talk that way about Maccas, but to me, it’s the truth.

The newsagents was horrible. I guess I should have known what to expect, judging from the interview with the crazy manager, but the one time my instinct is correct, the one time I cease to listen. They made me chop up magazines ALL day. I got there at 2pm, and, even though the “trial” was supposed to finish at 4, I was there till a quarter to 6. Uk. Other than chopping up magazines, I had to (major excitement here folks), stack magazines, throw magazines in the bin, top up the drinks fridge, with the used by dates in order (w.t.f.), and, most enjoyable of all, vaccuum. Now, I’m unsure whether I have told you this previously, or you have gathered it from my older posts, but I am not, I repeat not, manually skilled. In the slightest.

There’s a little T.V. in my brothers’ room, and it’s “portable”, so you can just lift the whole thing into another room. Pete and I were lifting it, and I staggered and tripped from the weight, and it fell on my leg. I hate hanging out washing because it hurts my arms so badly. Vaccuuming? No way. Mum thinks I’m just pretty damn lazy (this is more than true, but still…), but I refuse the manual side of things, ever.

*Cears Throat. The Newsagents. It sucked! I was sooo bored, and I was only there for 4 hours!!! Plus, get this. I was standing there, chopping magazines, when Pete and Maco walked in. I couldn’t control myself. I burst out laughing. Pete, who’s hair is black, fully black, night black, had put peroxide tips in it. Hahahahahaha! So anyway, the crazy manager lady comes over and says “boys, it’s her first day stop distracting her”. They were like, right…. And left me all alone in my own private hell. Then, about an hour later, there I was, still chopping magazines, when some Aboriginal guy comes up and play-punches me, “Hey!!” I almost died. Jesse. He moved way down south not so long ago, to be with his aunts and uncles and that. I had no idea he was back for a holiday. More importantly, I had no idea why he was talking to me. To put it bluntly, I barely know the guy. He went out with Christy for a while (Grr… she’s a very touchy subject at the moment), until he moved and left her hanging. Apart from that, we’d never talked. But he’s a nice guy. Really nice. And pretty hot too. Anyway, he got kicked out too. ???

I was physically and emotionally in pain. Boredom was threatening to send me into a coma. So, at almost 6.00,I asked if I could leave, saying some bullshit about a doctors appt.

I almost forgot. The icing on the cake of death? Apart from the fact, of course, that it was a trial and I didn’t get paid.

They made me wear pink.

July 18, 2006

News Update

Filed under: My Life, Work — happychick @ 6.38p07

Well, I know you’re hanging out for details of the newsagency job. 😀 I think I did pretty fucking well, if we’re all being honest. I have a trial run tomorrow arvo. I’m confident, but not too much so, as;

1. I think that there is a big difference between confidence and just being cocky. And being cocky? That gets you nowhere.

2. I may not even have the job. “Trial”, means just that- it’s a trail, and she made it quite clear that i could quite possibly fail, hence, not even get the job.

So details, you ask? (or not, but haha anyway). I woke up at 8.30, freaking out, trying to convince myself I’m calm, saying stupid little things like “Whatever will happen will happen”, “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous”, and, even more lame ” It’s their loss if they say no, not mine, I still have McDonalds.” Lol! as if I’d search for a new job if I were content with Maccas! Anyway, I went into the rent’s room (OMG forbidden place of completely wrong nocturnal going-ons), to wake my Mummy up, and- OMG- she wasn’t there. I was freakin out, coz Paul (step-dad- get with it guys!) was on night-shift. So figuring I had no other choice, I woke him up. Baaadd I dea. I got a swipe nd a curse (or 5), before leaving him to resume his slumber. So I called Mum at work. She raced around and picked me up and dropped me off, with a quick “Good Luck” and a smile. Good Lord.

So I get in there, and ask the sales assistant for the manager. The next part, to look back on, is a crack-up. “Oh, she must have forgotten about you. She shouldn’t be too much longer. You see, she’s out, uh, having coffee, with her inlaws, as they’re leaving town today.” I was like, O-Kay… But, being the calm, pateint girl I am (*snorts), and the fact that I didn’t really feel like yelling at my possible future (uh, whats that word for people you work with? peers? no…) anyway… She rocks up eventually, at 11.00. I’d been wandering around the store for an hour. Sigh, the things I do.

So moving on… The actual interview. She sat down and rambled at how immature “young people” ie. People under 16, ie. Me, are usually, and how they cannot handle the tasks that are required (Ok, back it up- stacking newspapers? What are they, in a wheelchair??). She blinked about a hundred times a minute (no joke), and the whole time, I was trying my hardest not to laughat her crazy eye makeup, and trying not to scream as my tummy cramps threatened to overwhelm me- seriuosly, for you boys (and girls like Shona, who don’t get cramps), they sucked that bad. I got home and cried.

So throughout the hour or so I listened to her repeat the same things over and over and over again, throwing in a couple of “mature” words, like “Oh, yeah- Initiative”, and “Find Something To Do” every now and then (God, I must have sounded like an idiot.). So then she offered me a trial. And of course, i took it. So it all sounds good.

A couple of things I’m a little cautious about, though;

– She said that I may not even pass the trial. And that, the last girl who didn’t pass, came back to see what shift she had. (At this point in the story, the manager laughed). She hadn’t even bothered to tell the girl she hadn’t passed. Mean, or what?

– She said that, when I satart on the registar, I will only have one registar, and any missing money will be taken out of my pay. I mean, what? But ok, understandable, but then I think, “I know a girl who used to get a hundred bucks out of her pay each week, for no reason”, so again, will have to keep my eye on it.

– Her half-cast, angry looking daughter-in-law sits behing me the whole time, yelling out random-ass things like “We’re not here to babysit”, and whatever. I’m like, who are you??

Those things aid, guys, I am not going to lie and say I’m not looking forward to this job (if I get it). As The Bastard so gracefully put it, “if it sucks, bail.”

xx chick

June 18, 2006

HOMEWORK HORRORS

Filed under: Angry, My Life, School, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p06

Hey guys. Just want you toknow that I've been checking ALL your blogs over the past couple of days, and you havent written much at all! So anyway, I better make this a short post, as I have a MOUNTAIN of homework eyeing me off from the corner of my room.

I worked from 9-5 today- it sucked. I have never had period cramps so badly as I did today. I'm being serious, it was far from natural.

Umm… No-ones talking to me on MSN, which I think is a sign for me to GET OFF MY ASS AND DO SOME HOMEWORK!

That said, I'll probably surf the net for at least another hour or so before I actually do anything remotely constructive.

Along the lines of homework, let me fill you in on what awaits me this Sunday night…

1. An essay on The Hobbit. Are you kidding me? As much as I LOVE English, and essays in perticular (that wasn't meant to sound sarcastis, though it did), and apart from the fact that it'll probably take me 20 minutes, I just cfb.

2. (The single most vomit-inducing thing I could think of doing tonight)- a report on how TOOTHPASTE works. Ick. Science is SO not fun.

3. A maths cheat-sheet. Ick. Maths is also not very amusing.

Sigh… A question for all you oldies- if you can remember being in school- did you have this much homework? Ever? Dear me…

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