Eight Years Running

When I first created this blog in 2012, I didn’t think it would last long. Most blogs I’ve had die within a year. This blog has unarguably had its ups and downs of activity, but I’ve somehow managed to keep it going.

A “blog-iversary” isn’t exciting, but I am a little surprised each year this blog stays alive. I always expect to make a goodbye post somewhere down the line, yet somehow, I find the motivation (and content) to continue posting. Part of me wishes I started this blog in 2010 so I could already say it’s been ten years. I suppose I’ll have to keep waiting.

The most unexpected thing is this blog has, in a way, turned into a record of my life. I created it with the intention of ranting and talking about random things on my mind. I’ve done that, but so many of these posts speak of my regular life and not-so-random nuisances too. Maybe I should’ve expected that, but since I didn’t expect this blog to last so long to begin with, I can’t help being a little shocked by the unintentional record I created. I have no regrets, however.

Some of my earlier posts embarrass me and I don’t want to remember I wrote those. Not necessarily because my feelings are different, but simply because of how I wrote them. Then again, there’s a reason I say I’d hit my younger self over the head.

Knowing this blog has survived so long, I now want to keep it going until I can’t anymore. I can’t picture how long it will last, and I will probably be surprised by any length of time, but I do hope the inevitable end is very far down the road.

The Year of No Love?

Seems the only thing I can make last is my job. Which is good.

I came to realize something about my (ex?)boyfriend: he likes sleeping. A lot.

I invited him to sleep at my house since I moved and the others in the household were okay with it. I know he likes to sleep late. However, I assumed it was common manners to not sleep until 3pm in someone else’s home.

Apparently not. In fact, he claims expecting him not to sleep late in my home was an unspoken expectation.

I never realized before that day I had to tell him how to behave. I suppose that’s a lesson about assuming everyone has the same idea of manners as you.

By the time he finally got up, I had to go out for some errands. He didn’t want to come and I didn’t want to argue, so I left him be to play games and YouTube on my TV. And brought back food.

Somehow, he can’t figure out why I’m upset. I feel like this is the line between “lacking foresight” and “being clueless”.

I am by no means super productive on my days off. However, if he only came to sleep all day and play games the rest of the afternoon, why did he want to come at all? By the time I came back, he had to leave within an hour for the bus. I should mention the night before was fine. Only the morning was the problem.

I dared to finally open my mouth about being upset yesterday. Only to be dismissed with an accusation of placing silent expectations on him (again, I’m supposed to tell a grown man how to behave?), and worsening his depression because of my “mood swing” (I was upset since the morning; hardly a mood swing).

I don’t want any more sleepovers at my place or his.

I’m also starting to wonder if I really want this to be my life.

To celebrate our fifth anniversary, we were planning a trip. But I think that planning has now been left to me, and I think I’m going to cancel. I don’t want to spend money on a hotel and park, only for him to sleep every morning away and spend the afternoon and night in the arcade. Yes, I love video games too, but not like that. If I’m going to spend my time alone in the park while he does his thing, why not go alone to begin with?

Come to think of it, I liked cats a lot more too before he got his. I digress.

I said I want to marry him. But I really don’t anymore. It goes without saying I’m not adventurous, but there’d hardly be any difference between him and a platonic roommate. No, I don’t want to spend of my life at war with his sleeping differences.

Before the new year, I was teasing a bit I want to do things like skating and biking with him. He vehemently opposed due to never having done those things, but I want to do them for that reason. But after this, I just invited a friend to go skating when we both find the free time together. She readily agreed.

It’s nice to have someone to do things with, but I think I better re-adjust to doing them alone. He’s not committing a crime. He’s doing what he likes best and I can’t hold it against him. But it’s obvious we don’t match up in that. I suppose there’s a reason for the expression that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

I begged him at least once every year of our relationship (minus this one) to take me strawberry-picking. Turns out there are farms for that in my state. I guess I can add that to my list.

As for the trip I mentioned, I guess I’ll go alone, take family, or simply keep the money in my savings.

Maybe “no love” is over-exaggerating. But there is definitely “nothing in common”.

2020 Resolutions

I stopped making resolutions long ago. Mostly because I don’t keep them, or I do keep them and regret it. My only resolution this year is to have a good year, and that’s probably too much to ask.

That said, some good things have already happened within the first four days of the new year. My job transfer request was approved, so I will have a full-time job again. My boyfriend and I were able to leave all the fighting in 2019, and I mean that almost literally since we made up on New Year’s Eve. I now have a counter for the number of days we go without fighting. Finally, I paid off one of my credit cards in full. I got hit with interest charges on the day of the last payment, but I had enough to cover that, so the balance will be zero. I plan to work on my debt this year, going from smallest balance to highest. Apparently, there’s a name for that. It’s called the snowball technique. I don’t care what it’s called. It’s simply how I want to do it.

It is hard to believe a whole decade is over. The start of the decade and the end of it were the worst years of my life. The new 20s are off to a good start for me, so perhaps they’ll have a good end. Of course, I can’t imagine that far ahead.

I considered doing a “one post a day” challenge, similar to “post a week” I did years ago, but quality matters more than quantity. Of course, the jury is out on whether this blog has any quality since it’s ultimately a journal of my life.

2019 really was a wild year, and I hope 2020 proves to be much calmer. I’m not a “wild child”. I want to relax. No school and no customers to deal with should make that less difficult.

The End Of A Decade

The 2010s are almost over. I must admit it’s been an eventful decade for me, especially since its start was terrible! The same could be said for the first decade era I lived through (2000 – 2010), but I don’t remember much before 2006.

Occasionally, I wish I remained in my hometown and grew up with my childhood best friends, especially since there was ultimately no good reason for moving as much as I did, let alone to new cities (my mom didn’t get along with people). Reconnecting with my childhood best friend via Facebook only serves to strengthen that wish. It’s to the point I’ve made sims and stories based on what my life could be like if I never moved. It’d likely be the same, but it’d be in the place I called home and the events of 2010 (which I call the worst year of my life) would’ve never occurred.

Of course, I wouldn’t have my current best friend, nor any of the friends I have now, and I possibly would have a more distant relationship with my boyfriend since it’s harder to get to where he lives from my hometown than from where I live now. There’s a reason I’d be content burning every year of my life that preceded 2011, and that particular year is only because it’s the one where I met my best friend. Otherwise, I’d burn every year before 2015, when I met my boyfriend. If I didn’t have him, I’d burn every piece until July 2019 when I got my current job.

Cheesy as it is, the power of love and the power of friendship are real. It may be a bit unhealthy, but I’m not kidding when I say my friends and my boyfriend are the only reason I care about my life. Yes, my family is excluded from that because, as much as I love them, I strive not to be like any of them. They’re terrible role models.

The one thing I can say is almost every year of this decade had a major event. Sadly, the one in 2010 is the biggest one, and it’s another reason I’d burn that year to utter ashes if I could. I’m going to skip that one and start with 2011 because I simply do not want to talk any more about 2010 right now.

  • 2011: I met my best friend of now eight years (and counting)
  • 2012: Nothing! I would say I turned 18, but that age really changes nothing.
  • 2013: No more high school! I’m free! Hallelujah!
  • 2014: I learned community college sucks and dropped out.
  • 2015: I met mi amor, and as of January 2020, we will have known each other for five years (and been a couple for 4 1/2)!
  • 2016: My first job, which I was foolishly excited about. If only I could’ve foreseen how much I’d grow to hate it.
  • 2017: I’d say being promoted to full-time, but that was an utter disaster and is the reason to refuse to ever try for a higher position again. So nothing for this year too.
  • 2018: Back to school, and it was a waste of time and money.
  • 2019: The year of the jobs! Counting a second job I’m about to start (that pays more than my current, but is seasonal), I will have had six jobs this year! Seven if I count the school’s internship and eight if I count my recent venture into DoorDash. I’m happy with my current job, though. Just wish they would stop sending people home early every day! Tax time is going to be fun. Six jobs will owe me a tax form (not seven; DoorDash sends a form only if a dasher makes $600, and I doubt I’ll hit $100).

I am looking forward to 2020 – mostly to celebrate five years with my boyfriend and hopefully going on the special trip I’m trying to save up for to be our five-year anniversary special – but I’m also scared of what the next decade will hold. I hate I’ve lived where I currently am for almost ten years. I certainly don’t want to live here for another ten.

One of my high school classmates has a master’s in psychology and recently got an internship she was aiming for. She graduated a year before I did, and she has definitely accomplished a lot in those seven years. My best friend, six years after graduation, is going to comic and anime conventions, and having the time of her life, often in NYC. I’m so happy for both of them, but I admit I wish my life was thrilling like theirs are. Unfortunately, I couldn’t care less for school or conventions, so those things wouldn’t make me happy. Aside from where I live, I genuinely am happy with my life, but I really don’t know if I have any exciting interests. Strangely, I did achieve something none of my friends have yet: my driver’s license and a car. But that probably still pales in comparison to being on the way to becoming a therapist or being a regular at conventions. Maybe I’ll find something someday. Maybe not. I guess that’s the pitfall of liking a quiet life where your favorite spot is beneath your bed covers. Too bad quiet can’t be exciting.

If nothing else, I want the 2020s to be the decade I finally accomplish my ultimate goal: moving into my own apartment!

And a passport. I want to get that just to have it.

Letters To Myself

Apparently, I enjoy writing to myself as much as I enjoy making odd lists. Weird.

Searching through my Google Drive, I found a letter I wrote from June 15th of 2018. I already did that on this blog, but it was a furious rant after a terrible night at my retail job (funny that since I’ve been in a warehouse, I’ve yet to have days or nights where I wish I was dead to avoid coming; I think not needing to deal with customers and clean until 12am is a large part of that), This one is just as depressing, but more tame. Let’s see what’s changed. Read the rest of this entry »