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| Lately, I've been have some horrible social dynamics going on. I use to have a few friends that I enjoyed being around until I "bothered" one of them. So, it was okay for this one woman to talk about me behind my back, paint me as some sort of criminal, and then encourage everyone to gang up on me. However, the moment I mentioned her behind her back, people read into it, came up with psychotic conclusions in regards to everything I am or have done, and then would run to her to tattle on me. Then, when she hears about this, she's allowed to be angry at me for whatever I did. What I don't understand is, how come I'm expected to be okay with all that happened? She can grieve all she wants about the whole situation, but I'm expected to have no feelings about anything that happened, and possibly be happy with how everyone treats me. After all, I'm suppose to be the one that caused everything because I was suppose to read her mind for what was wrong. Why can't anyone understand that I'm not some sort of machine? I'm just as human as everyone else, yet I get shown no grace or mercy. How I long for a boring semester.
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| With the end of the semester approaching, I'm just glad it will all be behind me. I have felt so much shame and disgrace this last school year that I'm thinking about becoming a school teacher just to get out of college. I seem to be in this pattern of gaining friends, liking one of the women I know, then loosing them all because I liked her. I just want the insanity to end. | | |
| Just had to get this out of my system. Since this is the only blog I have that isn't popular and I know people on my other blogs, I've decided to put this here. If anyone reads it, I don't care. I just need to express how I feel. It's really similar to a song, yet different. It reminded me of her. When I look around
There's always someone there to remind me
of a different place in time
Of the man I use to be. On that dreaded day
I knew it would be a final farewell
She would turn and walk away
Would would never again look at me softly. I'm wiser since then
Pretty faces can never phase me
Though women will come and go
God will always be with me. When I look around
There's always someone there to remind me
Of a different place in time
Of the man I use to be. | | |
| I'm pretty excited about this. Jamie may be coming to Modesto sometime in August! She's going to be stopping by on her way to Orgeon to visit/pick-up a friend of hers. Since it's about a 10 hour drive, she will need somewhere to stay and I'll get it arranged for her to stay at my grandmother's house. That way, she won't have to worry about getting a hotel around here and hopefully, my grandmother will get to know her and tell me what she thinks of her. Usually, it's awesome when my grandmother's give approval since she doesn't give approval to just any young woman, except for Jessica. I think everyone did that because they realized that I'd get to know Jessica and I'd eventually break it off. It would of been nice of people had hinted me in on this. Anyways, I'm not exactly sure what I should do with her. Take her to San Fransisco for a day to see some things there? Maybe I should do something simple like making a picknick lunch, taking her to a very lovely location like CSU: Stanislaus, and have a picknick lunch. I know there's hungry ducks there that love to be fed day old bread. I'm really happy and excited about this. Not sure why, but I am. | | |
| It was interesting. A few minutes ago, I had a call from someone that sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn't put a name to the voice. I could make out something about having a new phone and I doubt they could of called me just by mistake. This usually means that they either entered my number into their new phone or this was truely a bizzare mistake. I called back to see who it was, but it was some standard message machine message without any name of the household, so I left a little message telling that I'm returning the call and if they need anything, let me know. I have no clue if this is one of my friends or what. Oh, well. | | |
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