Just Fucking Kill Me

"Game over, man, game over." Bill Paxton in Aliens-I know I used once before as my inspirational quote of the day, but it's just too appropriate for today's entry. Forgive me.

Welcome to the second worst week of my life in recorded history. No joke. And trust me, there are a lot of competitors for that slot. The best week of my life, no contest, the worst, we're talkin' some stiff competition. There was the week I spent in the hospital recovering from five hours of major surgery that failed to work. There was the week I was emergency hospitalized and not a single person came to visit ( my junior year of college-I was in a hospital not more than five blocks from the dorm where most of my friends lived). There was the week I was hit by a car and had my wallet stolen( actually that was all in one day). And then of course there were the events way back in thousand and one ( actualy I can seperate that into three different distinctly awful weeks-the worst actually occurring in October). Well, at least 2001 remains at the top of the list, but this week, this week is so bad ( and may I add, IT'S NOT OVER YET) has not only driven me to drink, but it's driven me to beg my friends to put a staple gun to my head.

So let's review shall we?

One of my closest friends of the last decade, well, we know the story, it's over, and of course, in a spectacularly dramatic way. Because if you must be crazy and destructive, at least do it with style. Rejection. tears, loss. We know, we don't have to talk about it anymore. So that's how we start off the week.

Monday Bishop was supposed to call, he didn't. ( I wasn't surprised, he and his "girlfriend" we supposed to exhange stuff the night-another "You might have a girlfriend if..."prompts-the exchange of stuff is another indication of a more serious attachment). Tuesday we we're supposed to hang, we didn't, as we have for the last week and half all we have managed to do is swap emails. Now he seems even crazier and there seems little hope of seeing him again. So romantic hopes BANG shot down.

Tuesday night I'm in such a bad mood that instead of doing work or sleeping, I go to F's and hang out with the gang. Unfortunately the gang is all a flutter about J's wedding on friday ( and the reception on saturday which promises drunken irish hijinx) and P's brother's pregnant wife ( as in she is about to give birth-we await every cellphone call with baited breathe). It was just like "Oh hey let's have a whole jambooree to celebrate what you can't have EVER. (on the other hand rest assured the marriage of J will probably not last, still they are getting married)

So last night, I'm exhausted, I'm disgusted, I'm rejected, I'm depressed, and I'm pissed off. I go online to check my email, as I promised my students I would do online office hours. ( OK and now the new teacher, let's call him the Young'un, who really annoys me, keeps walking back and forth besides my desk-it's interesting how during a realy bad day you're treshold for what qualified for justifiable homicide plummets) Big mistake.

Now I would like to take a moment here as I may have made a reader very nervous, don't worry I'm going to honor my promise NOT to reveal who you are NOR reproduce verbatim anything you have sent to me in confidence. I am going to discuss the events themselves however.

I check my email and there is an email sent to me by an anonymous individual claiming to have also dated the infamous Eric Kinsman. She found this blog through google and then through, what I can only describe as dedicated research, figured out who I am in real life including my real name. Needless to say this scares the bejesus out of me. (It does support my earlier claim, however, that if one of students were truly dedicated they could find this blog.) And part of the scare was with the mysterywoman97 and boomhower1971 drama, I was unsure if this was a hoax set up by a student, however it did seem to byzantine for even them. So I decided to believe the email ( although I am still assailed by doubts as to its veracity.) Whoever she is, she's very smart it's the first time I've seen whom used properly in an email ( definately not one of my students).

What also upset me is that I really never expected to hear from anyof E's other conquests. And now that it's happened, honestly I wish it hadn't. I really have no wish to know about the real life of Eric post Bunni. I have set up this whole mythology about A the time I had with him and B what has happened since, and I would rather it not be disturbed. Part of email contained reference that Eric has a special gift to make normal girls into "psychos" ( OK I resent being called a psycho- I was tremendously hurt and have sustained intense emotional trauma, but aside from this blog which maybe totally self indulgent and crazy-I have actually held it together extremely well as both Blogger Jin and the disgraced Bell Ami will testify.

When I was discussing this situation half hysterical and half terrified with MA BELL AMI ( yes I had to talk to him he was the only one available and I was desperate-don't worry I let him know this was emergency only) he said "Well at least you know that it wasn't you anymore. That's just the way he is." Right because it makes me happy to no end to know that on top of everything else I wasn't special. That I was just one more girl to "turn". ( Actually to tie in next week's reading with E-he went from the first stage of Socratic love-the admiration of a single beautiful body-to the second stage of Socratic love-the revelation and admiration of all beautiful bodies-next stage would be to see beauty in ACTS.)

Then there was the sudden worry of what he had been cheating the entire time. What if the entire relationship was a sham? But then I thought about and realized that all he went through those two years-well it couldn't all have been a lie-and furthermore I couldn't survive if it was. Freud would say that things have power only if they remain unclaimed ( repressed). But on this mark I tend to agree with Ibsen's the Wild Duck- there are certain illusions that are vital to our survival and to seek the truth in these is to seek death. I would prefer to make it to this weekend.

That some girl abadoned by the same guy is this haunted by him should make me feel better. At least I'm not alone. But it does add to my notion that he is completely happy, whereas I, suffer.

Finally and this strikes me as odd, after this girl finds the blog and goes through of this including reading a lot of the archives, which even I don't have the patience for, she asks me to take the Eric content down, not for his sake, but for the sake of her sanity and the harmony of the universe.

Hmmmmmm.

Actually over the time I've maintained this blog I have considered taking the Eric content out partially because it gives him to much credit. It could fill his ego to know how much he hurt me, how much he still hurts me. The other argument is that it keeps me tied to the past.

But the problem is that clearly I am still tied to the past, and since part of the Bunniblog is about working through this ( there actually is supposed to be a therapeutic use to Bunniblog somewhere) I refuse to take content down until it is organic to take it down. And as for the harmony of the universe, well, the harmony of the universe has a lot more serious problems than myself.I merely shake my fist ineffectually at fate-better than some who actually wreak havoc where ever they tred.

But I was so shaken by this and Jin was nowhere to be found and Bishop hadn't called and the only available consultant was Ma Belle Ami. This makes for a conversation filled with spite and hatred. He in trying to make me feel better, in some ways dug the ditch deeper. Mainly his whole- he was just a shamless asshole argument fails miserable because then I become just another girl in a string. If it's something wrong with me at least A I'm special and B I can DO something about it.

His other claim was that I'm really too great in his estimation not to find someone. Well, I've done a spectacular job so far. Everyone else I know ( 20 year olds included) is either in a serious relationship or married. I can't even get a date for the weddign reception. Last night I just wanted sex, I just wanted someone to come over ( yell room service when I open on the door) and throw me on the bed. Just to feel desirable to SOMEONE human on the planet. I couldn't even pull that off. Jesus I couldn't even seduce Volta for the love of all things holy.

But there is one good thing, no Ma Belle Ami is at least pissy in his dealings with me, which means he isn't an apostle of unconditional love. He claims that this because he now understand what it takes to deal with me, specificity and being direct. Well you couldn't tell that with the blogs unceasing war for honesty?

And my other favorite part of the conversation was his claim that until now he never realized how unhappy I was. Jesus man did you miss a meeting? He, like Jin, is now on the bandwagon to "fix" me. You want to fix me and win the argument-get a decent man that I want to commit to me. Prove to me it's possible. And don't start with the "Oh you've already decided" If I already decided I wouldn't go out on dates now would I? I wouldn't even live to NY. After all the unhappiness this life has brought me, if I really gave up I would pretend to be Emily Dickenson and retire to the country. So there, you want to prove me wrong, you really want to fix me ( instead of using sarcasm during one of the worst evening in memory) go, find, DO.

Because honestly I would love to be proven wrong on this mark. Nothing would make me happier than to have a normal human being, or maybe a only half way brain damaged ocelot, fall for me. Really and truly. I would love for it to happen. It just has never happened. So when you want to know where I get these feelings of low self esteem and rejectionthe answer is outstandingly simple: experience.

So here I am thursday, exhausted, upset, terrified, depressed, frazzled, and on the edge of even more horror and rejection as I face a dateless weekend.

Just fucking kill me now, the suspense is just torture.