I'm resentful.  I seem to get this way any time I diet and charlie doesn't.  I guess i equate it, in my head, that I am making these changes to better myself why can't he?  Don't get me wrong I'm in no way unattracted to him.  I like my guys from super thin to beefy.  Personality and chemistry are what I find attractive.  And ambition.  A dream.  He has many of those.  He is driven to achieve his goals but weightloss is not one of them.  LIke i said in my previous blog it's like pulling teeth.  I think at this point I am officially throwing in the towel.  If i keep trying he's just going to keep fighting but it'll get worse.  He's the most stubborn pigheaded person I have ever met.  And I am a fucking hard headed, strong willed, person.  Let me tell you.  But this guy gives me a run for my money.

The thing that makes it worse is I have asked him not to fight me when i bring up the gym.  He does it.  Every time.  Without fail.  So i have had my fill of that bull shit.  Fine.  You buy an expensive gym membership and don't want to use it, that's your perrogative.  I just can't fathom why someone goes to spend the money and has no qualms wasting it.  What the fuck...

It's funny.  Tonight I had a thought cross my head.  I always tell him i was thin before i met him.  And he replies back with the same.  Well... in reality I honestly believe it's him.  He caught his catch with his fishing line and was done.  He didn't want anymore so it's alright to just give up.  And i somehow take that as "He's not worth it." I'm  just not good enough to have someone that wants and tries to look good for me.  I'm not saying he's ugly.  Not at all.  Just... the effort though.  And it's not just for me.  It's for him.  He has such low self esteem maybe getting in shape would help him realize his potential and worth.

God, I sound terrible.  It's just that resentment.  I don't understand why he fights me.  I seriously don't.  It makes NO SENSE.  I'm not asking him to do drugs.  I'm not even forcing him to listen to robbie williams on a loop for thirty minutes.  I'm asking him to go to the gym.  Get a little exercise.  All it can do is better him and he fights me.  He's like a child. 

Anyway... I'm going in a loop.  I just wanted to vent.  It was recycling in my brain a few hundred times and this is the only way to get it out.  On here it's now out of my thought processes. It can terrorize the vastness of cyber space and leave me well enough alone.

I haven't written a blog in some time and if I have it's been about failing and not actualizing my biggest dream.  I came to the conclusion, with that aspect, that I was putting FAR too much pressure on myself.  I was taking every single ounce of fun out of the experience and turning it into something I detested, hated, and feared.  Now it sits on my desktop taunting me.  No matter.  I'll give it another couple weeks and try it again.  But I will force myself to go at it casually.  I know what I'm telling now.  Where I'm going.  And I know so much more about my characters, hell he even has a last name. lol But I will do it.  I have confidence that I will.  Then... I will submit to agents.  Hopefully someone might see something worth while in my tale.

I wrote a note on July 9th that I would have an agent.  I don't know why I chose that day I just did.  Now whenever I scroll through my calendar at work I see it.  It gives me a sense of urgency and hope.  I doubt I will get an agent by or even close after that date.  But it's something that I need to keep in mind.  Keep looking toward.  I will be a published author... Someday. 

For the first time in a long time I am once again surrounded by friends.  Over the past few months I have accumulated this ragtag group of people I cannot fathom how they came into my life.  They are all themselves and amazingly caring.  Charlie and I have been spending a lot of our time with them.  We made a goal at the beginning of the year to make more friends and by some miracle we have.  Last night we had a barbeque.  It was impromptu and mainly created to try and get two of my friends hooked up but... The two that the whole evening was planned around backed out.  They weren't there but we continued on with the plans anyway.  It turned into smoking, drinking, gambling debauchery.  It was all fun and games until the moment I took two of my new friends home.  My friend, whom I shall call MM, went to a VERY dark place.  None of us know what happened, especially him, but the moment I turned on to this one street everything changed.  It started off harmless.  Me and my other friend craigor thought MM was fucking with us.  It was just too bizarre.  But then the tables turned again.  MM, sitting in the back seat, wrapped his arms around Craigor's neck and started choking the life out of him.  Craigor kept giving me the thumbs up but something felt off.  When his hand disappeared beside him I reached over and unclenched one of MM's fist from around his neck.  (Mind you, I'm fucking driving.) That's when I feel the bite.  MM has dug his teeth into my arm and wants flesh.  For the first time in my life I punched a man.  He let go, buckled back and then threw a punch at Craigor.  Craigor had passed out and was beginning to come around.  From there it got worse.  MM kept talking about "them."  "Why are they here?"  He had NO idea who I was.  He was convinced I was there to hurt them.  At one point as I was walking out to the garage to call 911 he started to go after me ready for a fight.  Criagor grabbed him just in time.  From the open door into the garage, that door open also, he kept pointing at these two trees asking if we saw them. 

After getting off the phone with 911 I called charlie.  I knew he was still a little drunk but I didn't care.  I needed him. He and the other friends that had been at the party booked it over to MM's house.  They beat the ambulance that never showed.  Eventually he got calmed down enough that once they laid him in bed he was out like a light. 

We didn't get home from this whole ordeal until 7 in the morning.  I got 3 hours of sleep.  Fuck my life.  And have this horrible bite mark on my arm from a man that tried to eat me. 

The whole thing frightened me.  Yet again, I found myself the center of calm.  I tried to do everything I could.  I told myself I wasn't going to leave until he was in bed and by God I kept my promise.  It also showed me, again, I am like a mother fucking hen when someone is in distress.  I cluck after them until I know they're safe and sound in the nest.  Strange.  And beyond being terrifying it was so familiar.  I VIVIDLY remember when my dad has his nervous breakdown.  He was out in the backyard swinging a broom around trying to kill the demons.  He had to put on yellow dish-washing gloves on his hands because his hands were so badly blistered.  I remember sitting with my mother just as scared as I was last night about the talk of "what are they doing here," I remember all of it.  I couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 when that happened.  And it still haunts me to this day. 

The one thing I honestly took away from last night is that fear of the "pandora's box" that lies in wait within my own mind.  Everyone of my dad's brother has some form of schizzophrenia.  My half sister fucking has it.  Each one was brought about by alcohol or drug abuse.  And it doesn't help that we're also obsessive compulsives.  I really don't want to drink.  I don't want ANYONE to have to go through what I did with MM.  It was frightening and Craigor (MM's best friend) lost his shit with the whole situation.  Maybe it was a good thing I drove them home instead of a cab. 

I also found that when the chips are down I stick with the game until the end.  Even if I may hold a little grudge toward MM about his opinions about marriage (He thinks it should only be allowed for religious heterosexual couples.  Fuck his face, as he would say) I will be there.  I guess I do care about him.  I care about so many people and fuss about them trying to keep everyone safe.  I don't know this phoenix transformed into this new form, with brighter feathers, but here it is.  And I don't want to lose that part of myself.  I like it.  It brings me joy.  Even in the darkness of that whole fucking ordeal I found solace in knowing I was protecting him.  Helping him.  Keeping him safe.  (At least I hope I did.)

In two hours I will begin my rewrite of my novel. Hopefully it will turn out better than the first attempt.  After my horrowing experience of editing I have come to the conclusion (with the help of a close friend) that editing isn't really for me.  Wiriting seems to be my passion.  So I will just rewrite the shit out of my novel and see where it takes me. 

COming at it with a more informed eye might be able to unlock more from the story I am convinced is original.  BUt I'm sure all people feel that way about their art.  "None has drawn a picture at all like this..."

I just can't let myself get bogged down in my own head. I can't psyche myself out with my usual self loathing banter.  I can do this.  I will do this.