Things are coming together very swimmingly with my apartment. I've got the living room, kitchen and bathroom all squared away. It's the bedroom that needs some work: I have all these boxes that need to be unpacked and/or reorganized in with my hall closet (I just threw shit in there, it's all a mess and a lot more could fit in there if I organized it better), I just need a day or 2 to put a shelf up and stack things properly.

Even though I feel like I've had this underlying sadness about me and him the past 3 years, I mean, I cried a lot about us, I still feel like I'm not supposed to be having this much fun. My Special Guy Friend takes me out all the time, we do all this cool shit, we have this unbelievable attraction and synchronicity, it makes me frickin swoon when I catch sight of him - yes, I'm in, and I'm in bad. I sometimes feel like it distracts me from the pain, in fact, we've talked about this. But it does come out - when I drink and get angry.

I am uneasy about talking about it. I am afraid of being psychoanalyzed, which is stupid. My Special Guy Friend doesn't do that, but in my strange head, it's the only thing I've known the past 8 years (2 years of dating him, then 6 years of marriage), and it's hard to break from the insecurity. I'm even afraid to write about it, which is again stupid, I mean, I need to write about it. It helps me figure shit out. I'm sure you think I'm crazy, but that's OK. I know that I haven't figured out everything, yet. Here - it gives me a place to hash things out in my head. OK, so I don't write this up in word and then edit shit out, I type it directly into the white box with the blue background.

We watched Hancock tonight. I thought it was a good movie, but it would have been cooler if they had both died. But no, we have to have a typical American ending. Hey, let's let him live so we can have a sequel in a couple years and make tons of cash on a mediocre second attempt.

Those 3 years I was having problems in my marriage, the past 3+ years, it was a passionless time in my life. A time of rationalization that things were getting better, when they weren't. I do have some good memories, like, memories with a good friend. I really try not to think about how fucked up it was. He used to tell me that this was as happy as we were ever going to get, that we were going to be the kind of couple that fights every day, just like both our sets of parents, and that if I ever got with my Special Guy Friend, I'd run into these exact same problems. Fuck him. I mean, fuck him! How the fuck does he know, what gives him the fucking right to predict the goddamn future? I hope he's fucking his 25 year old girlfriend's brains out, because he sure as hell didn't do that with me. Be free, man. Be fucking free with her. He's 34 for Christ's sake, ugh. He wrote me an email the other day, saying he hopes one day we can all hang out. Yeah, OK, like, NOW is a great time to be talking about that, man! Way to go with being uncomfortably positive.

I need to vent more. I need to get in touch with my feelings, more.

Tomorrow's Monday. Yipee.

Well, yes, yipee! I'm meeting up with some of my bike friends to go on an urban adventure on our bikes. I sort-of had a falling out with DR, but I think we're working things out. I really don't want to lose him as a friend. And Mr. Maiden's going to be there, too.

I'm tired, I need to go to sleep. I've got to get up at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

Thanks for listening to me rant.

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