new assignment

"why do you flirt so much?" i could take the simple way and say that i just like the attention. zach says that i say things for shock value. thats putting it lightly. im more of a jaw-dropping-sock-you-in-the-gut-knock-you-off-your-feet-"shit did she just say that?!"-kind of girl. i can do every sort of flirt you can do. any kind of flirt you can do, i can do better. i can do the playful flirt, the coy flirt, the sexual innuendo flirt, the lightly-touching flirt. i do it for the good tips, the phone numbers, meeting new people, and i even do it to get myself into study groups (study groups that landed my name on the presidents list, in case you were wondering). ive been told that i flirt with boys AND girls. "but im straight", was my reply; "it doesnt matter, you do it" was her retort. flirting comes natural to me, i do it unknowingly and inadvertently and unconsciously. ive been doing it ever since i can remember, and before that (which is ten years, actually. ten years of not remembering a damn thing), i know i was doing it then too. so, why? why do i flirt so much? you sure you want to know? because of the outstanding biological specimen of a father that i have. ive been watching him do it for forever. up walks the pre-college, mediocre looking waitress: "hi yall, what can i get for you folks today?", from my father: "well, i sure could use a hug and a kiss!". HA. in front of his kids and his dumb-enough girlfriend. or the way he wrapped his leg around any girl that hugged him. highly inappropriate, and most definitely uncalled for. but, (are you ready for what those therapists at shades with PhDs call "icky"?) my dad would flirt with me. playing footsie with me under the table, sitting me on his lap "tickling" my back under my shirt, laying down too close to me in bed, dubbing me "BB", which, in case you didnt figure out, means "big butt". this is how i learned to flirt, but more importantly, this was the only male attention i got. and other men around him took his lead. men from the softball team whistling as my 11 year old self walked by, saying how good looking i was, and "scott, how do you keep the boys off that one?". "with a shotgun" was his response, finished off with a big old toothy grin. so it was all news to me as i sat there, in a room full of addicts with their own shady stories that i found far worse than mine, when they said "thats the reason you have issues with your dad, he was improper and wrong, and thats what was out of place in your relationship with him." hadnt all the rest of the girls grown up with that? wasnt that normal? not in the slightest bit, not in the healthy ones, at least. how had i not known? who misguided me, let me continue under that influence for so long? and thats when i started to blame her. she let me go to that house every other weekend and every wednesday. she let me live that life. she didnt fight hard enough to keep me at her house. she didnt have sense enough to know better or tell me that it was wrong. but. i let go of that. who cares. whats done is done, its in the past and i can forgive (i did. i have. right?) so theres your answer. yes, its for the attention, but deeper than that, thats the only male attention i know how to get. i havent figured out another way. so. i hope you can find a way to re-parent myself on this one, because i dont have a clue on how.

tracys been ignoring my texts ever since last week happened. he normally handles all my baggage with a surprising strength, but i forget that i wore him out the first go-a-round and that this time isnt going to be the 24/7 bffl-ship that we used to have, despite his "BFFL" wall decor that i made for him last christmas, which he loved, btw. im sure ill get a "not avoiding, just working too much and too tired" text message later this week. the way i told him wasnt as debonair and classy as i wouldve liked, but, lets face it, i do like to paint my stories with sarcasm and scoff because if i treat it real, it becomes my reality. i overlook the fact that i AM a handful, it DOES take alot of energy to be around/listen to me, and i AM high maintenance, or "thoroughbred" (worth millions of dollars, looks gorgeous, but not as easy to tame or settle down) as you call it (dont worry, youll get the rest of your assignment of "affirmations" at the end of this bloggity blog blog), so that when i tell the important people that need to know the "little" story of how i went to the hospital. i shouldnt be surprised that they pick up their shit and walk out the door, because it is too much for people to learn about. you got it right "you put on an act so that everyone thinks youre ok, you let a little more of the real rough stuff out when youre here, but only the privileged get to know the truth". 3 people have stuck around after they learned the truth, or, hell, even went through the truth with me, and one of them stuck around out of blood and duty, because hes family. no one wants to learn my history, because it is bloody and jaded and full of jutted out angles and not-so unexpected twists. im sick of seeing the backsides of people as they leave, so lets cut it out all together by putting it in a little black box, as rahim so delicately called it, and making sure it never comes out. because all it leaves is me left, in the end, and for once, id like to do the leaving. which i have. ive done my fair share of leaving, but not enough to make up for the times that ive been left. lets find another word for left. because once you say a word enough, it loses all its meaning, and you begin to question whether its a word or not, and left, well, ive used it too much in this paragraph. lets try abandoned. there, that fits much nicer. but when it comes out, im pandoras box, and itll take an army of thousands to shut that lid and lock it tight.

its a wonder to me how the 2 generations prior to us are perfectly capable of running through their lives...without being attached to their phone every day. im, personally, married to my phone. yes, yes, we made it official in '05. no kids yet, but we did get a pet rottweiler (sp?) this summer, and that little bundle of joy has brought a whole new meaning to our lives. but seriously. it amazes me how, i can leave a voicemail on one of my middle aged friends' phone, and ill get a "hey, i just checked my voicemail" phone call 6 or 7 days later. blows me away.

my affirmations?
i am a good person.
i am a good friend and an asset to have around.
i am a good daughter, even though i wont do a reading at my moms wedding.
i am a damn good big sister, and its ok that i need to lean on my baby brother for support.
i am smart, keen, clever and intelligent.
i am classy and put together.
i am fun.
i deserve good things to happen to me.
i deserve good people to happen to me.
i deserve to be loved.
im a good pet parent, and my cats love me.
im a strong and confident woman.
i will refrain from thinking that im difficult and that no one will ever want to be my roommate.
i will refrain from being coldhearted.
i will refrain from being jaded and fucked up.
im doing great losing weight and i will one day be skinny.

the purpose of those things is to one day believe them, right?
well, that polish off my assignment-daddy issues, abandonment issues, and affirmations. i hope thats good enough for you because thats all that ive got. for now.