They’re all gonna laugh at you! They’re all gonna laugh at you!

I know there is at least one person who knows that that quote is from Carrie. I said it a week ago and my siblings as well as my mother looked at me like I had procured a ham sandwich from my anus. I am not a film snob, and now that I am taking screen writing classes I realize I am not even that knowledgeable about all the snobby things one can be knowledgeable about in regards to film. So If I allude to a film, it is my feeling that pretty much everyone has seen it. Clearly I am wrong.

Why am I bringing up our lovely ginger friend Carrie now? Sad to say, but in some small way I have been identifying with her recently. No, there isn’t anyone dumping pigs blood on me at Uni, and my mother is not a psycho religious freak…Except in the way that she has so clearly predicted failure of my latest relationship? interaction? like affair? It’s not exactly “They’re all gonna laugh at you,” it is more like “Abandon hope.”

Knowing me so well she knows all the things to say that make me want to run for the hills, including really pressing the jealousy button (I can’t help it though I try–I am a Scorpio, mention another woman and my brain catches on fire). She has been kind and gentle and all that but she also has successfully cleared the smile, and all the joy that came with it, off my face. Now, despite still wanting to go forward with this interaction, it is hard to calm the paranoia and fear that I had just successfully gotten rid of last week.

I have met this awesome gentlemen online who is from Melbourne. He came and visited for a week and before and after this visit we talk every day often multiple times a day. If he didn’t live in Melbourne it is likely we would be dating, but the distance presents a bit of a challenge. Regardless I have been having fun, and he is such a kind honest and decent person. So why then has my mother been giving the cold shoulder to this whole interaction? I speculated a whole list of possibilities throwing in jealousy, over protectiveness, projection… Finally yesterday she expressed concerns based on what she has seen intuitively; 1. I will get hurt, 2. It’s only about sex for him and he plans to involve other people 3. It is never going to be what I want/never going to turn into a relationship.

So I was really down after this conversation. How can you ignore the point of view of someone who loves you and has such strong intuitive gifts? I talked with the boy extensively about this–which just speaks to the type of friendship we have that we could talk about everything so openly and honestly. What it comes down to is 1. anything worth doing involves a little hurt and I can’t go through life missing out on experiences because I am worried about being hurt 2. We are both really sexual people, admittedly, but I know it’s not just about sex for him. He is hot, he can get sex easily why would he bother to travel all the way to Sydney to get it? 3. I can’t get caught up in the future and the will we/wont we when this is all so new, it’s just too much pressure to put on a relationship. So hey it may be stupid, I may be crying into my beer a week from now wishing I had listened to my mother, but so far this guy has only shown himself to be an amazing and caring person and I would kick myself if I missed out on even a couple of minutes of that because of something my mother said. There are no guarantees with anything anyway so I just have to enjoy the moments as they come. I know she loves me and isn’t saying this stuff to hurt me, but it is time for me to be an adult, live my life, and make my own mistakes.

The mystery of the granny panties

So I think there are many of us who have to periodically buy whole new sets of socks becuase the reality of keeping socks together when doing laundry is often elusive. It is an accepted fact of washing clothes that you will inevitably for some unknown reason lose certain items of clothing to the ethers. The lesser common thing, is of course, to randomly gain clothes. We have our own washer and dryer, and other than my mother and myself, no one else uses these machines. So how is it that in todays laundry pile there came to appear two giant pairs of white bloomers that belong to neither me nor my mother. I am not a granny panty wearer, even when I was 35 kilos heavier than now, and especially not now. If anything I still have a bad habit of wearing underwear that have cartoon characters on them. And all my moms stuff looks like it came off the set of a nior film. So where are these dang panties from? This is a creepy mystery that will bug me for days…

Ok so now back to me posting poetry drafts…

first from the boy tribe

I tried to dress up–gold Mary Janes
You called them my tap shoes, and we became a series of coordinated movements.

It’s a weeknight
and tomorrow I’ll do what should have been done yesterday…
maybe.

I’m shy to hold your hand,
and lifetimes pass before we kiss.

I like your eyes, and smile, and face, and hands,
and the way you hold me
but I haven’t found a way to express that in terms of
butterflies, sunsets, chocolate cakes or some other beautiful shit.

I want to write lines
To you for you of you
Something a little more interesting then
bad coffee, strange hotel rooms and getting lost in the city.

Our awkward transition from text to flesh
I wish for your skin and your smell…
I want to tell you stories and play with your hair…
You remain here like an endless afternoon
though your flight left yesterday.

I think I forgot to mention…

I am in this month’s Cherrie Magazine…Check it out.

I know there’s something in me that’s better than this

I am trying to do homework/work and it’s slow going. I spent the better half of yesterday looking for a job and then later did coat check at an event for seven hours. Lately even in my good spots, I have felt frayed. Like I keep polishing buttons to distract everyone from my loose strings. I want whatever is supposed to happen to happen already. But it is me who has to start creating/ being the person I am meant to be. And I am acknowledging that this life that I have put on for the past year doesn’t fit. I am not meant to struggle, or be unhappy, or trying to strap in the neurotic assumptions of my idle brain…

I don’t actually have a bed

What I have now is a mattress propped on a bookshelf. Except my fat ass broke the back of the bookshelf so at some point I will end up on the floor. Yep I need some money. (Sigh) life is a little ghetto here in Ashfield. Oh but that is not what I want to talk about at all. I have been gone for the last couple days. I met this boy…well man from Melbourne who I have been chatting with for the last month. He visited this week and fun was had by all.

When I got home from spending the last four nights with him, my mother has been nice but strangely distant. I don’t know if something else is going on or if she is upset that I haven’t talked about my time with him. Thing is I don’t want to go into gory details with anyone really. Despite being a blogger I don’t really kiss and tell. I also don’t need another burst bubble. Well that’s a lie I have kissed and told in the past, but I wont this time.

My mother and various other people before the date listed all the ills of men. First and foremost was the concern that any person I was meeting online would be a serial killer. Next it was stressed over and over again that men are different then women (which apparently people feel that I as a rugmuncher am incapable of comprehending). Next was that boys cum fast or that they smell funny or that cock sucking sucks…But the one that managed to really pick at me (and is still picking at me today) was “he will say anything to get what he wants, and once he gets what he wants it will be over…”

(Sigh) I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if it was just a four day fling or it has potential to be something else. All I know is that I like him and we had a great time. But ultimately if it isn’t meant to be I would like to know soonish before I fall. I don’t want to be that neurotic chick that looks at every text message like “well he says hello happy Saturday…but what does that really mean?”