Long time no write.

So after abandoning last year's resolutions, I resolved to abandon resolutions altogether this year. Just kidding. I'm getting married in 8 days. My dog is a year and 3 months old and a freaking handful, but completely worth every minute. And my list of home improvement projects has drastically decreased since the last time we talked. All in all we're doing well. Have a few irons in the fire, but what I really want fixed is my fashion sense. Again, just kidding. I'm not that superficial, although a few new layering tanks and a pair of straight-legged jeans wouldn't be the worst purchase I could make. Seriously though, I'm 29 and craving more than a daily grind. Stay tuned. I'm about to shake it up.

Sylvia 2009

Today isn't the best day to write about my recent feelings of renewed energy because today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But I'm hoping that writing down my resolutions in a public space will give me that "high on life" euphoria that I was just getting used to.

It's a new year, as everyone says. Time to start on everything you've been procrastinating on since you graduated college. I've stumbled to where I am now. Well, let's just say I haven't always stood steady. Perhaps this is due to my always hungry waistline and lack of abdominal muscles -- which seriously have been putting a lot of strain on my 27 year old lower back. Or maybe it's this office chair? Either way, if said abdominals were in shape, the chair wouldn't matter, right? Resolution #1: No more blaming inanimate objects. Also read: get ass to gym, no more excuses.

Resolutions #2 and #3 aren't fueled by nearly as much passion. I've been telling myself to get to the gym for years and it seems that 2009 is that last straw. But if my teeth are falling out of my head, what good is a smoking hot body? Worse, if I'm too dumb to realize that my health (including dental) is the most important thing to keep, then I shouldn't be allowed to have children, hypothetically speaking. Res. #2: Floss at least every other day, and Res. #3: Read for more time than you watch TV. Which doesn't mean to cut out TV entirely. I mean, seriously, who could live without their fix of a little Law and a little Order? And how would my cilantro pesto turn out if I didn't learn how to emulsify on my beloved Food Network? Reading, whether it be the newspaper, online news, or a good fictional mystery, keeps your brain sharp and your language skills in check. This I desperately need as I've noticed I've been stammering a little and even scrambling to find the correct words to finish my sentence. Maybe TV really does rot your brain.

So there they are, for all to see. I'll let you know how it's going.

Happy.

After struggling with my inner self for, well, ever, I feel all of a sudden at peace. Nothing is really too much to handle, except the occasional impromtu business meeting with the crazed incompetent client. I still get down on myself for not being motivated to hit the gym all that often or for eating that extra pie/tater tot/helping of mashed potatoes, but all in all, things are working out. I love my house, my friends, my fiance, and my job, sans aforementioned crazed customer. Maybe I'm getting old enough to truly understand the phrase "don't sweat the small stuff."

Not myself

Nothing is as it was a few months ago, not even my brain. I feel like I just opened my eyes and I'm under water and I don't know which way is up. In the last five months, I got a new job and moved into a new house. My comfort zone is no where to be found and I feel like i missed a step somewhere, even if there is no instruction manual on life in your twenties. If I don't wake up soon, I'll lose any control I have left. Maybe this is a good thing?

Wobbly Legs

Dave left for Brazil today. He's only gone for 1 and a half weeks. Later this summer, he'll be leaving for an entire month. I feel like his shorter initial trip is to get my feet wet while I struggle to remember what it is like to be on my own again. I don't have any standing dinner dates and there's no one to talk to about a hectic work day. It's just still. Quiet. I'm more reflective and less ballsy. My legs feel wobbly, like a child figuring out how to take his stride a little faster. But there's a definite depression looming. There's plenty to get done in the next 10 days and I'm hoping this keeps my mind numbingly busy so the emptiness doesn't set in.

By the way, painting is the slowest task ever. So much priming left to do. Luckily, I have some friends that are willing to paint for pizza and beer.

Done Deal

Escrow closed two weeks ago and we've finished demo. We have our new contractor Fernando and his crew scraping ceilings, patching holes and retexturizing walls. Floors are bought and they are en route, to be installed in two weeks. Next step: Painting. Choosing paint colors is sort of giving me a mini panic attack. What if I choose the wrong ones? What if they don't match? What if it looks really REALLY ugly? My perfectionism is aiding in my procrastination and it's an obstacle I'm ready to slap in the face. I'm going with red, dark grayish black, khaki, and white for trim. don't worry, nothing will actually be painted the dark grayish black ... well, except for the kitchen cabinets. I have a vision. There may also be a blue/green in the bedroom. But it's paint -- it can be edited at a later date, right? Watch for pictures. I should start documenting this process properly so I can look back and say, "I did that."

Personal Tipping Point

I literally can reach my hand out in front of me and just graze my dreams with my fingertips. I can't quite get a good grip to pull them closer to me; it's like waiting for my arms to grow longer. Maybe some more yoga? It all feels right. I can taste the plaster and new tile, I can picture leafy plants in corners, my favorite song drifting through the hall, the smiles of accomplishment on Dave's and my face. After building our bar, I feel as though the cocktails tasted better. Building our living space, maybe our lives will feel richer without actually making any more money. Is that bad that I'm practically saying that life sucks now? I don't mean this. It's been a long time coming. The sea of conversations we've swam in over our future together and this is the second biggest step (the first being the move to San Diego -- which I'd like to point out, happened almost two years ago). Marriage, while it's something to which I'm looking forward, can wait. Puppies can wait. Babies can wait. This house is my personal tipping point, where new things start happening. The end of the college afterlife and the beginning of grown up adult life.

one of those days

Every once in a while, I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I don't know why it happens, maybe it's the day that has to be bad so all the other days seem better in comparison. Whatever the reason, I lay there thinking of the numerous reasons to just stay in bed -- it's warm, it's quiet, you don't have to go to work and sit in front of a computer for 8 hours relentlessly typing and making up billing descriptions -- but my job looms over my head and I know the longer I wait in bed, the later I'll be at work, the later I'll get home, and the later I'll be back in my cozy bed. Then I think about this cycle and realize how monotonous my life can get. And I try to think of something, anything that I can do to spice it up. Everything costs money... and since I haven't received my annual raise yet (will i ever?), I know it's not feasible to buy a round trip ticket to my sister's house and take a week's vacation. What good is the vacation when you know that you have to wake up and go back to this glorified monkey job, anyway?

If I can do anything I wanted right now with no consequences, it would be...

I really hope my answer isn't "getting back in bed" but it seems to be what I'm thinking about. I would want to be somewhere where I don't have to think about everything that has to be fixed. Maybe I have to accept that I will have always have a to-do list a mile long and that being stable isn't about having it all done, but being able to manage it without it getting in the way of living. Which clearly I'm not good at. Maybe for lunch I'll take myself on a nice little walk somewhere and get out of this typical common day rut.

Anxiety Disorder Lesson

I've been doing some research lately on anxiety disorders. I feel as though there might be something wrong with me and that's the first thing I can think of. After reading up on the subject, it looks more like I have extreme stress and maybe moderate anxiety caused by stress. Another thing I read is that oral contraceptives may cause anxiety or mood swings, and after my sister's false diagnosis of lactose-intolerance-turned-birth-control-madness, I believe it. It may be time to switch the old pill brand. Let's just hope the new ones don't make me gain 20lbs. Bagels and tater tots could be to blame, but I'd rather blame those hormone-filled pills.

In order to relieve stress, there are a few things to try. One is keeping a stress journal and the other is exercise. So I'm blogging about my stress now and hitting the gym after work.

The following things stress me out:

1. Loud noises. This includes motorcycles, honking horns, car alarms, piercing shrieks/yelps from either babies or immature youngsters that think they are hilarious. My heart starts to race and I'm extremely distracted by these noises. I may start to wear earplugs when out in the general public. Sort of bothersome that I can't get away from these noises when in my own living room watching TV. Starting to maybe think that the reason my anxiety is worsening is that there's no relief from stress at all, even when in the (un)comfort of my own home. It's also safe to say if the noise isn't loud, but it's repeated multiple times in a short time frame, this will be equally distracting. And I won't be able to concentrate on whatever I'm doing.

2. Being touched. I have a personal bubble people. It's not that hard to grasp. Everyone has a bubble, mine just happens to be a lot larger than most. Keep out. Hugs aren't always necessary, especially if i saw you yesterday. If you are someone I see every day, and we hang out/have each other's phone number/have met outside of work at least twice, then it is acceptable if you feel the need to put an encouraging hand on my shoulder, or brush up against me accidentally because we're walking down the street together. Any taps, smacks, slaps, pushes, shoves, pokes, tickles, or even putting your body inexplicably close to me so that if i move, i would brush up against the offender are completely unreasonable and unappreciated. I don't touch you, so why are you touching me? And yes, when you flick someone, it hurts. maybe not like a punch in the face, but it's not like it feels positive in anyway.

3. Bright lights. I love the sun, contrary to belief. It doesn't look like I stay in the sun too often given my luminescent 75 watt skin color, but I can assure you, I like the sun. I don't like cancer or wrinkles, however. The sun blinding me every day from 1:15pm to 3:30pm is pretty much hell. My eyes dry out, and I can barely look at my computer screen. It is best to not talk to me while i'm working through this. I will do my best to not be agitated by work-related requests, but this is the worst time imaginable to commit stress factor number one. Also, as the seasons change, the sun will climb higher and eventually not stare me right in the retinas.

4. Finances. It's very simple. I'm underpaid and now have more responsibility than ever. I also have quite a bit of credit card debt and a somewhat luxurious lifestyle. I love to travel and i refuse to give up my twenties, when i have no pets and no kids, because of a little credit card debt. This is the best time to travel. One day i will have a better paying job and this won't bother me so much anymore. This is a short-term concern. So if you owe me money, don't be a dick. Just own up to it. You're not really getting away with anything, you just look shady, and chances are you aren't going to be invited to my next party.

5. Idiot drivers. I admit that I am not the best driver. But at the very least, I use my blinker and if i notice someone behind me, coming up quickly, i'll get out of the fast lane. I try very hard to not cut people off. What I have noticed is that every state claims to have the worst drivers. I really thought Massholes were the worst, but truly every state has their own share of offensive morons behind a wheel. I really do feel the world would be a better place if EVERY driver used their blinkers and if, instead of cutting people off to get three cars ahead in a line that's not moving, you waited your turn, the line wouldn't be so damn long in the first place. And for the love of God, get out of that blind spot. I can't SEE you! This also parlays into pedestrian paths and grocery store aisles. If you are browsing a shelf, how rude are you when you stand in the middle of the damn aisle? If people were just a pinch more considerate, a tiny bit more observant, and a hair less consumed with their own life, i think world peace would be possible. A little courtesy goes a long way.

6. My health. This is one thing I need to stop worrying about. I can only control the things i personally do to my body, like smoking. which i've given up, or am attempting to give up. I caved after almost two weeks because i was hammid and i had one last smoke in my glove compartment. I'm quite irritated with myself over this. But I have to keep on keeping on, right? So it's been 3 days. But all in all, not as hard as I remembered it being. I'm keeping busy with puzzles. and once the puzzle is done, i plan on knitting. Turns out i used to smoke out of sheer boredom. Everything else that may plague me in this century is up to chance and genes. I'm working on enjoying every day and the people in my life so that if my life is cut short, i'll still feel as though i accomplished what i wanted to.

7. Too far from my family. There are issues, good and bad, about my family. Maybe my sister is right and I tend to victimize myself too much. But ultimately, there are things that I can't help but get angry over, even just thinking about them. I do miss my family every day and it has been a struggle to learn how to live without seeing them very much. The decision to move California was my own, so no one can be blamed for not visiting me out here. It is far away, but I just had to have my own "world" to grow up in, no influences from family, otherwise I would not have felt that I did it by myself.

There you have it... my frustrations all listed out. No holding back. I realize I'm going to have to let some of this go or it will eat me alive. I can't control other people/the world. And sometimes I can't even control situations that I get in, but I'll have to come up with some quick ways to calm down before I throw another empty beer can at an annoying dude's head. It was childish, and he certainly didn't like it.

Next stop: worry free relaxing bliss.

Holiday! Celebrate!

It took me a little longer than usual to get into the holiday spirit this Christmas. It doesn't help that I'm in California and the sun is constantly shining, the wind breezing through the plethora of palms. I still don't even have a tree to decorate. The worst part is that I miss my family and it makes me realize that the part I like about Christmas the most is being with them. I like the way we do Christmas, the way we each take turns opening presents and the way we always argue over if we should open one or two presents on Christmas Eve. Jill always says she's saving her presents until the next morning but then gets gift envy when the rest of us are enjoying our new belongings. My dad picks the smallest of his presents to open the night before, and he usually tries to guess (with like a 90% success rate) what's inside. My mum picks the biggest of her presents, then my dad says, "Gaye, why don't you open this one." and it will be a beautiful necklace or a little pin that's he's so thoughtfully picked out to match her personality. Leah's gifts are always wrapped with perfection with little funky tags and giant elaborate ribbons. She wins the secret gift wrapping competition every year.... a secret because no one actually wants to admit that there's a competition. Maybe it's just me. All the while, jazzy Christmas greats are lulling us into that euphoric spirit that seems to bring us all together just when we need each other most.

Breakfast the next morning has become the new "first thing to do" over presents because we're not 5 years old anymore and dying to know what Santa brought us in his sleigh. Plus we're usually still intoxicated from the free flowing champagne and red wine the night before. Nothing a few crepes and sausages couldn't cure. The first person up knows their duty is to make the coffee and turn on the Christmas lights. I like making the coffee because then I have an excuse to clink the mugs together to wake up my parents.

Oh, I almost completely forgot! The STOCKINGS! Almost a special occasion all on its own, everyone gets a "socking" full of little goodies like mini nail polishes, gift cards, trinkets, and tiny stuffages that would otherwise get lost in the tree's foliage, for sure. Then there are all the years that the entire foot of the socking was filled with mandarin oranges. Jill and I, being the little spoiled brats that we were, would complain that it wasn't a true socking and that we had been cheated out of a few more inches worth of gifts. HA. Now it's a running joke. In fact, I really think I would be disappointed if I didn't find an orange in the toe of my socking.

More music, bubbly mimosas, sweet crepes with real whipped cream and raspberries, my great family. What I am looking forward to is learning the Christmas traditions of my brother-in-laws.

I've spent only a couple Christmases with Scotty, but one that stands out was him in his PJs on his couch in Anchorage, opening up this giant present with the most ridiculous joker hat inside. It was massive with these little jingle bells all over it. He threw it on his head immediately and looked around waiting to see the expressions on our faces. Of course, we rolled with laughter. That year was fun because we were all in Alaska in Leah's cozy Cedar house with snow falling gently against the frosted windows. It was a true White Christmas.

I guess all of this is what makes it so hard to really get into the festivities. This year, I will be spending Christmas much differently. Maybe I'm stuck in my ways, but it just won't be the same. I'm grateful, nonetheless, to be spending Christmas with someone's family. I'll be sure to find out what holiday traditions the Pessins have. And maybe I can offer a little of the Bryant tradition and get them all sockings.

Hey, who started calling them sockings anyway?

Whose blog is this?

This is my blog. But I feel I need to censor the stuff I write. Worst of all, it's not weird. I know what I can and cannot say.

Red Sox Nation

So the Sox have made it to the World Series again. It's interesting that, not one to watch every game or lose sleep if the Boston team is doing poorly compared to a certain arch nemesis NY team, I actually was thrilled to come home, crack a micro and settle in to watch the three hour battle against the Colorado Rockies.

Some people say baseball is boring. Sure, there are lulls in the game, or if the opposing team goes down without so much as a run, or watching all 157 three hour games every year, yeah, the game is boring. But I've come to really enjoy the hidden intensity, especially in the pennant and world series. For example, a pitcher and a catcher have to have such a relationship that they almost know what the other is thinking. Almost like an old married couple. The pitcher and catcher also have to study hard to understand the other teams strengths and weaknesses, so they can out-pitch the batter. Likewise, the batter has to know what pitches the pitcher has up his sleeve and anticipate what's about to be thrown.

Double plays, bunts, pop-flies, sac-flies, runs batted in, errors, stealing, walk-off home runs, reading other players' subtlest of moves, catching every ball in your 25 square yard zone, AND being able to tell if a tiny ball flying at you at 98mph will be in your strike zone in less than 2 seconds.

Yeah, baseball, to me, is the least boring game of them all.

Working Girl

Almost as if I had known that working your way up the corporate ladder is more about who you know rather than what you know, I'm grateful that I developed my social skills more than my discipline to get to class on time, if at all. God, I say that like I never went to class. I did my penance. I took all my tests. I even suffered through multiple 8am math classes. Whose brilliant idea was it to learn how to prove mathematical equations and theories at 8am in the bloody morning? I can barely process what shirt I'm going to wear. I'm also not the most pleasant person to talk to in the morning, so finding a partner for group work was yet another nightmare. Why do they make school so completely different than the real world? Anyway, I digress.

I was about to say that while I did learn to become less socially awkward, I never learned how to be fake. Knowing I needed reinforcements, I actually picked up a few skills along the way. What i didn't know is that these skills would be practically void in the real world. And so I start in on my rant of why social skills are more important than brains in our messed up society. We know that women are capable of achieving celebrity status based solely on breast-size. If you don't agree, what did Pam Anderson ever do besides get the most ginormous breast implants ever? and maybe take off her clothes and show everyone these implants. Is she particularly smart? Who the hell knows? She's famous for her boobs. (Maybe the social status of her boobs supersede her own famosity, but that's a whole other topic called "Working Boobs.") We see celebrity drunk drivers skirt passed the law, pay a fine and go right back to the Hollywood party, only to get in their car after 10 too many. Do they not make enough to pay a chauffeur? a cabbie? Or are they super humans, fearless and elite, not touchable by these laws for the common civilian? A blank check ought to cover anything. But it doesn't stop at celebrities. Companies promote these sociable humans into upper management by the truckload. Who cares if they know what they are doing? They can charm the pants off of you. Let the peasants do the actual work. We'll just take credit for it. I'm the peasant though. And even if i was this grandiose socialite working my way up by schmoozing and faking this I-truly-do-care-about-you-but-let's-face-it-i'm-more-important-than-you attitude, I wouldn't feel right about it or my promotion.

Now, I start to question my ability as an employee to ever be promoted. Maybe I'm jealous of these promotees and maybe I really do lack the skills necessary to do their job. And this is why I'm not in their position. At what point, then, do I say, that's enough? When do I walk out and find something better? After all my confidence has been shattered by management's rejection? Until I'm humiliated and being escorted to the front door, carrying a box of my personal belongings? What can I do? I'm at the whim of my paycheck. It drives me, not the other way around. Unfortunately, just the smell of this stuff is enough to make people act with all sorts of bad behavior, pushing anyone and anything out of their way. Keep your eyes on the prize, as they say. My eyes just so happen to see the masses waiting patiently in line while this sucker committs a childish "cutsies."

Financially Challenged

It's confusing to think that education in this century is supposed to prepare you for the years to come and equip you with a problem-solving, idea-spewing mind to use to find a job and live a dream. Did I miss some classes? Maybe I slept through them. Where's the class that shows you how to negotiate a raise or gives you the hands-on experience to clean a couch? What happened to the course that shows you how to budget your measly paycheck so you can somewhat live a life of luxury? Oh, who am I kidding? It's more like a life of poverty with a few luxuries thrown in so you don't feel pinched by your empty money clip.

Everywhere I look there are young adults splurging on crazy concerts and trendy happy hours, road tripping to Vegas and LA for leisurely gambling and Rodeo Drive shopping sprees, planning weekends at the Water Park or a vineyard, and ultimately just having a downright good time. Not to say that I haven't done any of these activities. In fact, if I haven't done them, they are planned and waiting on the next few pages of my calendar. I'm keeping up with the Jones's, as they say.

But the dream...

MY dream -- to have a house with a backyard and a washer and dryer. Sounds lame, but it's really REALLY something I've always wanted. I think it's because I've moved around so much and when my parents finally got a house, a big comfortable house that we all fit in, Jill and I left for school. I've been in dorms and apartments since then. I've moved every year since 2000. Make that 1998, when it all began. And before 1998, I believe the Bryants occupied 7 other residences all over Alaska (with one small stint in Illinois). So in essence, I've never stopped moving. Buying a house would ensure that I would be in one place for at least 5 years, which would be the second longest length of time I've ever stayed anywhere. Will I get bored? Will I get the urge to move again? I don't know. But I want to come home and know that all the walls and light bulbs and paint colors and mail are mine. Not some landlord's who lives downstairs, or a property management company that takes a month to fix the leaking toilet. I want to own laundry machines so I do not have to carry my dirty laundry out into the public one more time or slyly give the grocery clerk just enough cash to maximize the number of precious quarters given back as change.


... How is it all possible? I'm missing something, a trick. Something that you are taught only after you've suffered for years. Or maybe my ambition is premature. Did our parents have their own quality home when they were 26? I'm pretty sure my father was in a trailer with a motorcycle parked out front and my mother with a 7 year old in tow was moving in to that trailer. And probably why we moved the 7 times before was because their dream of owning a house wasn't possible yet either. They were doing the same thing I'm doing, but with kids.

Now I know I'm spoiled, complaining about the "tragedy" known as my finances when in reality I think I'm better off than my parents were at my age. And look at them now. They have two beautiful houses on opposite ends of the country so that they can spend time with their three daughters. Maybe the trick is hard work and patience. Trust that if you work hard enough and maybe skip one of those concerts and stay in, or wear that threadbare undergarment just once more, you'll reach your new home someday.

Reflective Personality

I do this thing where I reflect on how I think others might view me. I'm constantly doing this and it has come to annoy me. At no point will I ever escape negative opinions from others. These are inevitable, no matter how hard I reflect and attempt to change. So why should I care that I talk too much about myself or that maybe I'm a little snobby. I'm not even that great of a friend, forgetting birthdays, breaking promises... But I know what I like: comfortability. The ability to have comfort. My comfort zone is about 4 feet in diameter with a soundproof, bulletproof, shatter-resistant surrounding pane of clear glass. I can see out, but people can't see in. It's here that I am me. And the door is mostly always open, except when I am walking down 7th Avenue or in dark parking garages. People are welcome into my space, given that they are clean and quiet. Hell, I'll even put out some chips and homemade salsa. Go nuts. Just don't spill. Or annoy me. Is this a disease? Do I have social anxiety? Or am I making diseases up because I need an excuse to be spoiled? No one can have their way all the time, except for my grandmother, whose even allowed to call people fat to their face without it being rude. So is it discipline to accept that which I cannot change? (ie. that the kitchen gets messy when you cook in it, complete organization is as mystic of an idea as nirvana, and nothing will ever fully be in your autonomous control.)

At the end of the day, after the never-ending struggle to be the cleanest, smartest, funniest, most humble, perfect, and optimistic person I can ever be, my couch offers up it's coziest corner, and gives me a moment or two to contemplate if I am or will be any of these things and if it's worth the self-doubt, the shrouding of my lack of confidence with an overly confident coat of witty comments and low-maintenance appearance and the crazy self-conflicting thoughts that put me on a daily emotional roller coaster.

Party Planning 101

One of my most favorite things to do is plan parties. As an avid party-goer, I appreciate the time and effort put into getting people together for a pub crawl or a birthday or a beach BBQ. I especially love the little details that make a guest feel so invited, such as place cards and personalized candy. My subscription to Real Simple has certainly offered plenty of ideas for cozy decorations, neat invitations, seating arrangements, and cost effective food platters. And while I love being a hostess, two things hold me back. Firstly, my apartment. It's tiny. I could fit a small gathering of 5 or 6, but we'd have to eat separated and spread out over the stunted square footage of the living room and balcony with our plates in our laps. Secondly, and the main reason planning is so extremely difficult for me, I'm a perfectionist. I swear my mind runs on this mantra: "If I can't do it perfectly, then I don't want to do it at all." Trying to break this habit has been challenging to say the least. I read in an article once that to curb perfectionism, I should sign up up for things that I know I'm bad at. Like singing lessons, or basketball (ironically, i should be really good at basketball since I'm 5'10" but my lay-up makes me look like I ride the short bus). I've also resorted to constantly repeating to myself that everything will turn out fine, just take one step at a time. Plan a party to which I would be thrilled to be invited.

So I've been given the honor to plan my sister's last night out as a 26 year old bachelorette. It could have been helpful if I had been to a bachelorette party that involved a large city and even larger plans, but the one bach party I've attended (in Mexico) include four women, watered down shots, and an early turn in. It was fun at the time, but my sister deserves the ultimate party. As it is, one of her best friends can't make it. So it must be extra special. This clearly adds more pressure to be perfect causing me to procrastinate and push back on deadlines and other important to-do's.

But I must go on. My determination to give Jill the best party ever keeps me going, sifting through the pile of phone calls and sorting out the tiniest of details. I will get it done. And my only wish is that she remembers this night to be one of her favorites from her single life.

No further explanation needed

Have you ever met anyone that, by the sheer sight of their written name, you are filled with a kind of anger and resentment that fills your entire body within seconds, causing your face to flush and your fists to clench? Yeah, it's that bad. What can I do? I refuse to make anyone choose sides, that's lame. But I can't live with it. It is not jealousy, it's a plain distaste for being treated like I don't exist.