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back to school, and hopefully work again in a couple of weeks. i’m hoping that weaseling my way through things will actually work this time. usually it doesn’t of course; of that fact i am perfectly aware. somehow, lying to myself is still bringing my mood up. just the prospect of *maybe* having some income coming my way is exciting and liberating on its own. there have been a lot of financial parasites’ teeth sunk into my spine for quite some time, unpaid traffic ticket woes from beyond the grave of last year-or-so and a terminally maxed-out credit card being to two biggest leeches of the lot. i always tell myself, if i could just find the motivation to settle all of my debts, that alone would improve my quality of life immensely. i feel stupid for not thinking of this sooner: my motivation is that i have to do this. it’s taken a long time for me to finally step in and handle my fiscal responsibilities. thawing out the proverbial ice queen sure takes a lot of work.

i’ve also resolved to try harder in school. i’ve done quite a spectacular job in fucking up my transcript since the first day i stepped onto a college campus. i know i’m more intelligent than this. i know that i am smarter than what my academic probation letter says. but as a recent article in the onion i read so eloquently  declares, i just don’t give a shit. not about my education, not about my future, nothing. i don’t want to change my lifestyle of being constantly high and depressed (for some strange reason), but now i must. i have no choice. i now realize that i never had a choice. if i am to get any better, if i am to fix this mess i’ve made out of my life, i need to do better in school and have an income. and i’ve found that even doing all of my homework on time greatly improves my mood. the small satisfaction of fulfilling responsibilities. i’ve  missed it so.

but getting those things off my chest aren’t the real reasons why i’m writing here today.

it’s that stupid asshole boyfriend of mine. he’s at it again.

except he didn’t do anything this time. well, not directly to me, at least.

from the last blog entry to now, we have fought, made up, fought, and made up again, except this time, we are going out officially. before i convinced myself that officially dating would ruin our friendship and our band, but our situation has indeed greatly improved. tyler even takes me out to eat occasionally. of course, he’s not wining and dining me at the swanky bistros on sunset strip, but even those small tokens of “hey, let me buy you a hot dog” feel wonderful. he’ll kiss my cheek and hold my hand in public. no longer does he snap up in attention when his roommates come home while we are cuddling and watching television together.  sometimes, he’s actually upset when i don’t immediately call him to hang out, something that i usually try very hard to do. all of these small things, that every couple usually take for granted, i finally have for myself. after so many months of pining.
(i’m smiling to myself a little as i’m writing this.)

but of course, nothing can be perfect. the real ugly bits of his personality, those bits that i try very hard to play off and ignore, are really starting to come out to play. tyler isn’t an alcoholic, but when he drinks… boy does he ever. it never made sense to me why people want to get to shamefully, belligerently obliterated when they drink, but when tyler drinks, that’s almost always what happens. sometimes he will be on a good one and will be happy and romantic (sometimes embarrassingly so), but there are many other times where he will get mean drunk. and i mean mean.
his drunken tantrums are sudden, loud, and violent. often they stem from small things that shouldn’t matter, such as me parking too far away from his house when there are closer spots, and sometimes they come from nowhere at all. he would scream at me, begin pointing out all of my flaws and my past mistakes, and tell me things that make me feel lower than a snake in a wagon rut. often he would become physically violent, destroying all of the mailboxes on his block on one occasion, breaking the screen to his window on another. i concede, he has never hit me before, or should i say yet. i have told him that these violent outbursts scare me. he told me in return, “at least i am confident in myself when i break things.” of course, he’s right. even though i have made vast and obvious improvements, i still have a long way to go in terms of improving my self-esteem. but i still can’t help but feel that his drinking is getting out of control. or has it always been this way? the same way that i have “always” been the way i am?

ach, the futility of it all. i’ve known it from day one. the fruitless efforts of spending hours putting on my make-up, straightening my hair, finding the perfect outfit for a phone call that rarely comes. it’s all a waste of time, but it passes the lonely hours of the day. the hours that i’m not with him, going to school, or sleeping. it’s pathetic. this is what i’ve set myself up to be. a blob of flesh, blood and air, trying desperately to pass the time before i die in the filth of my own loneliness. yes, all of this is my doing. but i’m keeping my head up as best as i can.

on another note, i was thinking about the german word “vergangenheit,” which means “the past” in english. the german word is composed of three roots; “ver” denoting past-tense, “gangen” meaning “to go,” and “heit” denoting a state of being. really, it is quite a beautiful word.