There goes my hero...

So I have this paper due (well, at least a third draft due) Tomorrow. It's going to be tricky because it's a research paper, and frankly, if I can't just sit down and write something, it's going to suck.

But that's good. See, there's this formula that I have for writing themes for class. If I hate it and wish it did NOT have my name on it when I turn it in- it's going to be a winner.

In Developmental Writing 850 (yes, I took a developmental class, several in fact. dammit.) They work on the number scale: a 4 being pretty much an A, and you have to get a 4 on your last paper in order to pass. I made a 2 on my first paper, and I really really liked that one. The rest, not so much. I didn't make a grade below 5 for the rest of the semester.

So far, I'm running an A, B, and a B+ (which is only a B+ because it was turned in a day late and therefore dropped a letter grade) I haven't particularly liked anything I've turned in this semester, so it's good to see the formula's still working.

But I digress. The paper is about heroes. Or lack thereof. How when you're young, you learn about the founding fathers, and their bravery and courage in "discovering" the new land and the pioneers who braved all to start a life with their families. And when you're older, you figure out that Columbus "discovering" America is about like me breaking into your car and "discovering" your stereo. The essay that we're using as one of the references tells a story of the authors cousin, who during a Thanksgiving feast took a bite of corn pudding and lamented on how the natives taught the white man to use corn before the white man exterminated them. The family replied with nervous chuckles.

What is it about the destruction of our "heroes" that makes us so nervous. Why is it that the term "hero" makes us nervous? I think it's because it's so overused. During my research, I stumbled upon a site that celebrates "heroes". A young girl who delivers cookies to the workmen at Ground Zero. A kid who survives a triple bypass. Are these people worthy to carry the same title as MLK? Extraordinary- yes. Hero? I really don't think so. We are so anxious to have "heroes" that we'll give the title to almost anyone, but more than having heroes, we love to see them suffer. Maybe that's why we set the pedistal so low- it's easier to push them off!

Changing the subject- I've been keeping up with John's website, and he has his own comic heroine: Hot Fat Ninja Chic with Robot Arm. It's a really great comic, and John is one of the really great semi-unknowns (though he's working on becoming known, good for him)

Something is bothering me. Though I have certain religious beliefs that I've clung to for most of my life, I'm a huge anti-fan of "organized" religion. It just never effected me the way it does others (not that there's anything wrong with that...)

And when John and I dated, he was the most adament hard-core Atheist I've ever known, he could debate his beliefs (or lack thereof) like it was nobody's business. Though we didn't absolutely agree on everything, we did agree on a lot of things. I respected the hell out of him.

Well, some of his and his wife's recent posts speak of their "shopping" for a new church. They went to church on Easter, and bought new Easter clothes for the occasion. For some reason, this bugs the shit out of me. I feel like...

I lost a hero.

Go figure.

Dear D~

*This is a letter I sent to a good friend, and aparently, it tapped me out. When I came to do a blog entry, I was dry. I hope she doesn't mind :)*
I have a dude that's been replying to some of my posts.. I gotta tell you..it's a little wierd posting to my blog now that I KNOW people are reading it- before, the only one I knew of was my ex (and first lay, at that!) John. He's linked on the site, as well as his wife, and as I've mentioned, I'm absolutely obsessed with their perfect freaking lives. They're madly in love, and John is the only guy I ever dated who actually had a fetish for big women. Those guys are few and far between-- a lot of men will say "ooh, better cushion for the pushin!" but when it comes down to it, they'd pick Kate Moss over me.

Fuck 'em. I've just got more to love.

I've lost a few more pounds, getting closer to my goal of "under 200 somewhere." I know this sounds sick, but Big really is my inspiration for sticking to my guns this time.

Because I know he's one of the afore mentioned guys.

He'd never come out and say it, but I know.

I once asked him to describe his ideal woman, (because I'm a glutton for punishment) and the only thing that she and I have in common are little nerd glasses. He's a sucker for glasses. The sad part is that I can conciously look at my behavior and say "that's sick." If one of my friends came to me and said, "If I can lose 30 more pounds, I know he'd love me!"

I'd belittle them (in my most loving way), and reassure them that it wasn't so. But every time I put in that Denise Austin Pilates tape, I think about how he'll smile at me and say "Wow, you look great! I can really see that you've lost weight!"

Like it would actually happen. Even if he did notice, Big's not the most complimenting guy in the world (as you may have noticed from my last comic, where the mere mention from him that I could be "cute" in any situation sent me into cardiac shock- and melted into a little puddle of goo.) And so there's this fear that I'd lose weight, grow my hair out, keep the nerd glasses, and grow about 6 inches... and he still wouldn't notice me.

God, how pathetic.

Sometimes, though, I feel like my fears aren't unfounded. Big is a really caring person... and he shows it to all of his friends.

Except me. Well, I take that back- he shows me in a different way. Last november, I helped him buy a fridge for his dorm room and to show his gratitude, he bought me a gameboy game. When my great-grandmother died (uhm..november of 2003, i believe) he gave me the cute pouty face that I love so much and said "i'm sowwy..." of course at the time, I was so concentrated on holding up my family, I suppose I didn't have a chance to show how hurt I really was- thus he didn't feel as though he needed to do anything to "boost" my spirits.

When a co-worker's mother died (You know this story) he asked me to go pick up flowers for her. He personally delivered them to her home when he got off work. And then they made sweet love on the carpet while her boyfriend was passed out on the couch.

Ok that last part didn't happen- but in my mind... that's another story.

He thinks it's funny .. how jealous I get. Once a coworker from Community Care and I went to pick up coffee for everyone at work and he was outside talking to a girl (I don't know who it was- it could have been your daughter for all I know!). I went in, did my business, and tried to leave without interrupting their conversation. It wasn't hard- he didn't even say hi to me when I came in. I thanked him for the coffee and we got back into my car. I was trying to supress my rage when he shouted "Why don't you wave goodbye, Kayla!?" in his most sarcastic tone. Laughing at me. The girl was laughing too.

(By the way, I'm sorry if that was your daughter.... the whole episode just...well, hurt my feelings.)

I very nearly put the car into drive instead of reverse.

But he has a jealous streak too. He always got really mad when I'd give Seth(obnoxious brat formerly from Church St Seth) hugs and stuff. I think that ... god, one of the happiest points in our relationship (when we really WERE dating) was his reaction to Steven trying to "hook up" with me and Carla (not really hook up- but flirt...seriously flirt). He got really quiet, and his face got all red.

"Are you jealous!??!? Oh honey!" I run to his lap and give him a big hug. "I love you!!!!!"

Sick, eh?
I guess his showing a reaction to anything resembling a threat sent me over the edge.

Logically- I know it's best that we not "get involved" right now. I'm busy, he's busy. My house is a mess and I can't seem to put aside any distractions to get it clean. The cable guy is supposed to be here in less than an hour and I have probably 5 or 6 garbage bags stacked up in the kitchen that I desperately need to take out. I have issues, you know?

But I can't stop thinking about how comfortable I am with him. How much fun we have together, how nice it was to, while half asleep, elbow him to get him to start breathing again (he has sleep apnea)...the good times were great, and the bad times could have been better if I could have recognized HIS way of showing me how he cared. Not only recognized, but appreciated.

But...deep down, I wanted flowers, too.

Sigh.
Like Tom Hanks said in Castaway.

Tomorrow the sun will rise.

I have a fan!

At least someone looks forward to visiting my page-

I think at some point this thing almost becomes a chore. It's almost like I hold on to my aggression so long that it becomes comfortable- and not blog-worthy anymore. I'll do my best. I posted a new comic- Big took me to Hard Rock Cafe in Nashville for m'b-day and it was lovely. The "cute in a cap" comment wasn't quite so ..uh.. blatant. And when I say I look *insert positive word here* in *anything* I'm usually being sarcastic. The "I'd look cute in a baseball cap" thing come from the fact that I recently cut off all of my hair and the only possible way I can "fix" it is to spike it. Therefore, I look like Yugi Moto. Which would probably be hot if I were a prepubescent boy.

But..uh.. I'm not.

Of course, I didn't expect Big to agree- completely without sarcasm -that yes, I do look cute in a baseball cap. Why is this so damn monumental? Big's the kind of guy that you'd have to have his balls in a vice grip to get any kind of complement out of- because that would imply closeness. Or comfort. He's not big on that. Big's not big on that. HA!

Even when we were actually dating, living together, etc, I had to fish for complements. And I HATE doing that, but every once in a while a gal, especially a self conscious psychotic gal, needs to hear a good word now and then.

The ex-fiance told me, on our first date, that "I am easy on the eyes." Geez, no wonder I moved in with that guy after three months.

But here's the thing. It CANNOT be overdone. I think that's something that turned me off to the E-F. He was...overloading me with a bunch of stuff that I, as a self conscious psychotic, refused to believe. He always had a nice thing to say about me, even after I broke his heart.

Twice.

I'm beginning to think this is horrible karma. Someday, I'll sit and write a nice long post about E-F, but the long and the short of it is that when I reached my lowest point, I reestablished contact with him, and drunken on his words and promises of love, broke up with Big and tried to give him another chance, only it was too late. His damage had been done, and I no longer felt that sweet first love with him anymore. I felt no trust, ... I barely felt lust.

I broke it off with him, using my school/work/crazy hectic life as an excuse. (Well, in part, it is an excuse, I don't have room for a long distance needy relationship... but if I loved him as I once did- I would have made room.)

So Big refuses a relationship with me, other than the occasional dinner and even more occasional lay, using his school/work/crazy hectic life as an excuse.

Oh yeah. Karma's a bitch.

Blah.