Category Archives: Historical Documents

Don’t Fu– I mean, Flirt, with Me. March 9, 2003.

1:14 AM

March 9, 2003

Dear Journal,

I got into Thayer!!! I am so excited OMG I’m so happy. Well ya so besides all that guess what horrible (+ awesome all @ once) news I got yesterday. Steve C. told me online that Craig was going to ask me to the semi, but since he’s going out with Abbi now he’s going w/ her. Aaahhh! And Steve (who set them up) likes her sooo much.

I went extreme skating w/ Abbi, Eve, Jess, Jon, Steve ~ it was pretty fun. Jon is the biggest flirt and he just sucks me right in when I’m around him. I feel so special when he’s all flirty w/ me and I shouldn’t because he does the same thing to everyone. He was like pushing me around the rink for a min and it was so fun! lol I really have to get over him. Plus he has a girlfriend…

—–

It’s turning out that the biggest theme in Little Allison’s life as she finished up 8th grade is how motherfucking distracting relationship/love life drama can be. Especially in the past year, I have thought endlessly about the benefits of accepting the love of another vs. focusing solely on the love of self. This was clearly a non-issue for me at 14–it simply was not a problem. I was reaching my goals in academics; there wasn’t much else to do besides indulge myself with social titterings, play Spyro and DDR, and write in my journal. At 24, I have had to reshape my life just to give myself the time to write every day. I’ve had to make choices that go against the grain of what the average person my age is doing. Where getting into prep school was a clear, major positive step in life ten years ago, deciding independently to work as a waitress and write for free as much as possible has been, well, not so much.

As I grow older, it seems the higher the stakes in ones personal life, the less bullshit you can deal with in your spare time. I have gotten less shit from my friends and family about my current relationship as time has passed, but when Matt and I jumped right into full-blown commitment mode a little over a year ago the disappointment in the air was tangible. “You shouldn’t tie yourself down to one guy” was by far the most popular piece of advice given by friends and family of all ages, besides, of course, my grandmother, who has always been supportive of and delighted by my monogamous trysts. I’m still not sure whether the popularity of such advice was based on my history of burns after one-dude-at-a-time dating episodes or if people really think, in general, it is best to try as many flavors at once as possible. I can say proudly that I have never dated (i.e. explored serious romantical inclinations with via dinners, play dates, and periods of physical affection) two or more dudes at once, and not one bone in my body holds hints of regret for that. So, back to the bulk of this story, I would like to attribute this mindset to the fact that I simply, for many years, have not had the time, energy or patience for the bullshit of playing the field.

A recipe for pain and self-loathing.

A recipe for pain and self-loathing.

I often use this blog to bitch about how my younger self was a naive and delusional girl, but this entry shows the true beginnings of being fed up with the dating game–and I hadn’t even actually dated yet! I am foundationally not fit to cope with flirting, cheating and mindfucking on any level. Hence, why I was ecstatic (though hesitant by experience) to meet a man I loved immediately who wanted nothing more than to love me too. Not to say I wasn’t resistant: after I met Matt in September of last year, I spent months crying over how just before we met I had finally been 100% ready to “do me” and be single for a while. Well, guess what. After shedding the opinions of a thousand others, it boiled down to the reality that a large part of “doing me” was simply being with someone I shared a deep, mutual, trusting relationship with, despite the fear of failure without perfection everyone else seems to be riding on. I had to get over the thought that in life it is best to deny your passion for another and beat yourself into freedom from monogamous affection in order to succeed. That may work for others, but for me, success lies in love.

So hey, like so many other posts, this one has gone off the deep end of tangentery, but you know what? I’m really okay with it. The moral of the story is that you alone know what works for you. The balance between work and life is living in a way that best sets you free–the easier you soar, the more productive you will be, and before you know it you’ll be busting out the start of your life’s work. Just do you, the way only you know how.

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The Story of Tom – February 22, 2003

1:18 AM
2/22/03

Dear Journal,

OMG I met a guy on the cruise!!! Well, it was fun while it lasted, but unfortunately I didn’t get a s/n, phone #, nothing, which means that I’ll most likely never see him again. And guess why I didn’t get any of these… yup that’s right. Mom. I’ll explain that part later. I seriously think he’s my soulmate, it’s so awesome whenever I’m w/ him. Oh yeah, his name is Tom and he’s from Staten Island, NY.
So here’s some info: He is 16, a junior in highschool (3 years older than me ;) ), he’s only 5’3″, he has a mowhawk (not as bad as it sounds, it looks pretty hot when he lets it down a little), plays hockey, is pretty much punk but is the nicest guy I’ve ever met (so incredibly proper, like the biggest gentleman; like he always opens doors for you and is just so great), and is probably also the easiest guy to talk to that I’ve ever met. So why does he like me instead of Becca, Kerri, or Nikki? no clue, but I loved it.

So I guess I should give the lowdown on how we met. Well, it was at the little outdoor rec. area where the pingpong tables and shuffleboard are. Us 3 girls (no Nikki) were just standing there talking when I saw him playing mini golf. The ball rolled over to me like twice so I picked it up and gave it to him. (Forgot something: Becca told me she thought he had a mowhawk (had a hat on) so I asked him and he told me yeah.) He seemed really nice right there so I told Becca and Kerri a few min. later that we should talk to him. Nikki came over then and said she’d go, so we waited while she introduced herself and told him we wanted to meet him. So they came over and Nikki introduced all of us to our new buddy Tom. He seemed very friendly and kept up a really good conversation. I was sitting next to him on the lifejacket container thingy, kind of just asking him questions about himself (ex/ me: you’re not goth right? Tom (+ laughs from girls): (laughs) no, definitely not goth. ~ goes on to explain how goth + punk are so different. another funny question about if he’s ever worn black nailpolish (answer: oh no) yada yada yada. So, after that we all hung out together and had lots of fun, you know just doing w/e.

So next day, Weds., is Coco Cay day. We see him at the beach and just say a quick hi. Later that night, after supper, we meet up and confirm we’re all going to the movies. So we walk around and hang out at the Viking Lounge (me, Tom and Becca) for a little while. By now I’m really getting to like him and everyone we’re w/ is talking about this guy (aka Tom) whose all sweet on me. So @ the movies I sat next to him and we just had a lot of fun like making fun of the movie + talking (it was The Tuxedo). We went straight to bed after.

So then comes Thursday, last day of our cruise. I can’t wait to take pictures with everyone (especially Tom) and exchange s/n’s, maybe even phone #’s w/ my New York love interest. lol. So after shopping at Key West, we hooked up w/ Tom and just hung out. Oh jeez, rewind. On Weds., I ended up having some alone time w/ him while we played pingpong for about an hour. He asked about Massachusetts, what its like, and I couldn’t really say to much (not very quick) so I asked about New York. He told me that he goes into the city on weekends, like him + his friends will go into chinatown or little Italy. He told me about their malls (best in the world he says) and the underground subway. We talked about so much, like how he plays hockey and wants to go to college in Massachusetts so he can play there. I guess he’s been getting letters from Tulsa asking him to go there, but he’s not sure about it. The whole convo just opened up tons of new doors.

K, back to Thursday. Then we all split up because me + Becca had to go to dinner soon. We figured out later that he and Phil, Becca’s little crush hehe, had second seating for dinner. We found him walking up on the deck around 10, hung out for an hour and took poleroids with the teen center’s camera (one of which will most likely be in this journal when it comes off my mirror). So we go to the movie and Becca only goes in 2 seats meaning that I’m gonna be split up from Tom unless I like ask her to switch. So we’re watching Signs and Tom is a lot more quiet than the day before. So, about 20 minutes to the end, Mrs. M. comes in and tells Becca that she should come do some kareoke. She says she’ll be 5 min. so I just stay in my regular seat. 10 min later she’s still not their, but instead of just scooching over I just lean over the seat to talk to Tom. She misses the whole ending, so I’m thinking that we’ll go up to the bar get one last drink and chill (maybe kiss too lol).

So we walk out together and guess who’s there–Mom. She’d seen Becca and thought she’d left so we could be alone! I was so embarrassed. Becca was like, “It wasn’t her fault,” just sticking up for me, and I felt like such an idiot. We just said goodnight really quick at my floor because Mom was like ya it’s time for bed. I didn’t even get his s/n, not 1 picture. I thought I’d most likely see him in the morning so I figured it would be OK. It wasn’t. I didn’t see him once, and even though Nikki did, she didn’t get any info for me. I thought I was going to cry all morning.

It’s so weird because I’ve never felt this way about any boyfriend, let alone someone I knew for 4 days (actually I only knew Tom for about 3 days). I’m just so mad that I didn’t get anything. Now my chances of talking to him again are practically gone, and when am I going to visit NYC? the whole thing is so depressing, it makes me hurt all over. Oh yeah, I just found out today that he told Nikki + Kerri that he likes me last night before we went to the movies. aaaahhhh!!! good news, but shoulda known that earlier! I’m so depressed today, really, and it sounds totally stupid because I’d only known him for less than a week, but I really think I was (and maybe still am) in love.

Guess I finally know what it’s like to have a broken heart.

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—–

When I first ran through this entry today, I laughed at my former self for being naive enough to call a 3-day, non-physical teenage fling something as strong as love, but let us pay mind to the detail that not-so-little-anymore Allison maintained this relationship without the use of virtual communication for three fucking days on a cruise vacation. THREE DAYS. I live with my boyfriend now, who I am deeply in love with, and I am not sure our relationship would survive three days without texts, calls, and those adorable Facebook messenger kitty stickers. Based on this fact alone, I must declare that my nearly fourteen year old self, although a bit extreme in calling this love, was right to put this time with Tom on the pedestal she did.

The story of Tom marks the most crucial turning point in my adolescence–the inciting incident of my love life, if you will. For that, I will leave you with minimal commentary, as this story permeates every following entry on relationships, my pre-Matt mindset towards dating and meeting new people, and my time-tested, ethereal connection with Chris Carrabba of Dashboard Confessional. I hope it has been worth the wait.

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Loss, happiness and relationships with God

9:44 PM
February 9, 2003

Dear Journal,

Oh God… Mr. K. died this morning. He had a heart attack at work. Oh my goodness. I just saw Al at CCD this morning + Dad talked to Mr. K. this morning at the extra-mart. I just can’t believe this. I had a game with Jackie yesterday.

You just never know what’s going to happen (Not to be rude or anything but just had to say that I got contacts yesterday!). But anyways, I feel so, so bad. I can’t even imagine if that happened to Dad. ugh lets not go there. If anyone in my imediate family died, I would probably have some major problems. I’d either like If I didn’t kill myself I’d definitely flunk out of school. I can’t handle those kinds of things. I’m so sad right now, ugh God I wonder what it will be like talking to Mike tomorrow.

It’s been seven years since my father had open heart surgery to replace a defective valve, and I still thank God every day that he was able to undergo that procedure. In writing this, I think of how lucky I am to have had my dad coach me in softball, drive me to private lessons, catch for me in the yard, and be angry as hell when I didn’t win MVP at my breakout tournament. When I think of Mr. K. and his kids, I see his daughter pitching to him at the edge of the woods during his son’s Little League games. I see them telling the story of how their cat was caught in the crossfire of a pitching session in their backyard and they thought they’d killed it. I see them laughing together afterwards, him spreading positivity through his overflowing love for his children, and she reflecting that outwards in her beautiful smile and reserved, content demeanor.

This event was one of two or three parent deaths I experienced within a close group during middle school. Since then, I have been witness to several more peers losing their parents and close family members to unexpected deaths and drawn-out bouts with sickness. I have maintained for half of my life that the deepest loss I have ever felt is that of my cousin, four years my senior, who died in a car accident when she was sixteen. I was twelve. I have not had to attend a funeral for a close loved one in almost eleven years. I realize I am extremely fortunate to have not yet had to endure the loss of a close relative, friend, mentor or coworker, but I am one of very few – as the years go on, I am increasingly anxious about the likelihood that death will strike my circle next.

I realize it won’t be as easy to say this in the wake of losing a loved one, but the death of a good person can ultimately comfort in helping others see the positive impact he or she had on others. We are all going to go some way or the other. This is still a difficult concept for me to grasp at almost-24 years old, but life, death, and time seem to be the only constants in this world. Out of that has come love and hate, good and evil, the compulsion to question and the desire to hold faith. No one has any clue what we are actually meant for and what happens when our bodies stop functioning, unless there is some seriously vital shit hiding in the Vatican or some other part of the world. Apparently, David Icke knows what’s up, but his views are extreme and difficult to swallow–if he’s right, we better keep moving towards the cure for death, or humanity is doomed to continue living in invisible bondage to the reptilian shapeshifters.

This would be a preferable way of dealing.

This would be a preferable way of dealing.

For those of us who dismiss his theories at least to some degree, I want to point out something my brother and I talked about yesterday. As a graduate of a Jesuit high school and Saint Ignatius superfan, Jake has had extensive education in the Catholic faith as well as all the major world religions. At 21, he has entered a period of life where he questions a great deal of institutions as legitimate ways of worship and the word of God, but he does insist that if Jesus existed and the Bible is true that this man was/is the greatest being to ever walk the earth in terms of courtesy and conscientiousness.

“He forgave PETER for saying he didn’t KNOW HIM, so that he wouldn’t get killed,” my brother exclaimed. “He forgave JUDAS for KILLING HIM.” Jesus, he said, had performed his most incredible feats by mastering human kindness and compassion. Remembering Jesus’ work is, for Christians, the most important part of conducting oneself, but I would argue we get almost as much by recognizing similar aspects (Christ-like traits, if you will) of people we have lost in our own lifetimes.

And so I end on this today, remembering average, good people who did average, good things in their lifetimes: whatever you choose to believe in, know that in the memory of people you loved, who loved you, there is left the most positive feelings possible you could ever feel for them. That is why we mourn when great people die, and it’s why going on with life as we knew it is impossible, because once they are gone we are made to adopt the parts of their lives we cannot live without by working them into our own everyday actions. This is not an easy process, and I truly believe I have been blessed with the avoidance of such loss so that I could have these kinds of revelations beforehand; I go forward knowing that my greatest effort in losing family and friends will not be to get over them, but to recognize in myself what good qualities I am missing that they had. This may be an overtly Christian way of seeing things–the whole point of believing in Jesus is to live and love as he, a perfectly conscientious being, did–but I believe it is the only way to keep living well and honor the spirit of those who leave before us. If it happens to be me who has to go first, I hope I’ve done enough good to make my friends and family happier than they are today. At least my mission of exploring the keys to happiness is one step further.

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Sizing Up the Competiton

January 3, 2002

5:57 P.M.

Dear Journal,

Just got home from basketball + guess where I am.  No, I’m not any place special like Jess’s house (hehe)… I’m on the pot!  Yes that’s right. Don’t worry I’m just sitting here so there won’t be pee on this journal.  Ugh that’s a gross thought.

Ya um, no one can know this, like until I’m a senior in HS, but I think… well I know… I really, really, really like Mike.  I don’t want to make never mind that, but Maddie does too!  Sooooo much, like she wants to lose her virginity with him! (when we’re older of corse)  People have told her that they’re so perfect together, that they’ll probably end up married, all that bull.  I really did believe that, but now I’m like HELL NO!  I’ve gotten to know him so much better this year and I just love how we’re so cool w/ each other.

I’ll write later!

—–

For the past six weeks, I have been focusing (loosely) on finally losing a whole mess of weight.  I’m talking dramatic weight loss–the goal is forty pounds.  My friends from college would gasp at this and insist my body minus that much weight would be unhealthy, but trust me, they have no fucking clue what I’m packing in this frame.  As I’ve mentioned before, my flawless looks, magnetic personality, and inherent sexuality have collectively given me what can be misinterpreted as a free pass on living life as a “full-figured” young woman for years.  After slimming down and shaping up working door-to-door sales last summer, I had the revelation that my previously accepted thickness was nothing more than excused borderline obesity, and it was time to get my shit together for the long haul.

I’ve been using Weight Watchers for the fourth or fifth time in my life to assist me in reaching the number of ultimate perfection, 1-2-0.  I am 5’2″, and at that weight would be literally invincible to the most fleeting thought that maybe I’m not so attractive.  I’m no fool.  Overweight people just aren’t super appealing when you’re seeking romantic partners and even, for some, simple friendships.  Even at 160 pounds I silently berate girls all the time for being anything less than well-proportioned and dressed to impress.  I will give myself points for knowing how to clothe the bod.  I’ve got a solid rack, a shapely behind (which may not appeal to all but certainly does to many, even if they are shy to admit it), and nice legs when I’m getting my ass off the couch; my midsection, arms, and upper thighs are to be concealed and draped in some sort of optical illusion whenever possible at what has been my median weight over the past five years.  Making yourself look average to the general public isn’t all that hard as long as you know your body honestly and invest in the right kind of clothes.  For everyday life, as long as you don’t have to go to specialty big girl stores for pants, you’re a-ok.

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Kim Kardashian does not have our problems. Accept it.

Still, my thoughts on how unsexy overweight is actually prevented me from having any idea that I might be able to fight off my friend-bitch in the battle for young Michael’s affections as a 13-year-old.  Maybe I simply wasn’t ready for the realities of competition in the quest for sex and love.  Hell, at this point I was very seriously considering saving myself for marriage.  In the following years, my hormones made it clear that unless I became a child bride I was out of luck on such chaste dreams, but that’s been discussed here.  I had to get past middle school to escape those skinny girls’ fierce advantage in the sex race, and eventually I embraced what my Italian-Irish, athletic-yet-comfort-food-loving mama gave me, making squishy sexy and bagging my first serious (i.e. physical) boyfriend and plenty of other fit-as-fiddle dudes in the following years.  By then I didn’t give two shits once makeout status had been achieved–I learned quick if you were getting kissed there was a lot more being lusted after than your mouth.  Mr. Smoochfest had assessed your situation long before and was already on a mission to the Netherlands, however Hot or Not you were ranking yourself that week.

Here’s the problem: you know those special relationships that pop up every now and then, where another human actually wants to see you naked, possibly in, God forbid, full direct overhead light, not just once but multiple times over several weeks?  Sometimes he becomes the fabled “Boyfriend” or “Guy-I’m-not-dating-even-though-we’re-dating-and-my-friends-know-him-by-first-name-only-cause-we’re-not-friends-on-Facebook (AKA Guy-who-is-sleeping/wants-to-sleep-with-other-chicks-and/or-has-a-secret-long-term-girlfriend-I-don’t-want-to-believe-in-but-will-inevitably-be-hearing-from-soon)”?  This is one conversation I have actually never had with another curvy girl, but I have to assume any other woman of confidence would shun the thought of insisting to keep her shirt on with a guy she is getting it on with regularly.  Yes, it happens every now and then that only the necessary items are removed in the heat of the moment, but that’s certainly not (and shouldn’t be) the norm when you’re getting some loving from your special friend.  Well there comes a time in every lady’s life where we realize if we want to genuinely enjoy ourselves in certain positions with this special someone, we’ll have to make an effort outside the bedroom as well.  That means crunches, weird hanging leg pull-ups, and way, way, way, way, WAY less beer and bread than we were accustomed to in college.   Yes, dumplings.  You know it to be true.

So all you have to ask yourself is what do you want?  Beer and pizza every weekend, or sex that doesn’t just blow your mind but gives you immediate knowledge that the lucky man you’re now snuggled up with will be focused on work for a total of 30 minutes come Monday all because of your fantasy-come-to-life session two days before.  We all make choices in life, and hey, some of you don’t feel the need to have sex ever!  To those people I suggest you visit the nearest Dairy Queen for their new Chocolate Shoppe Blizzard.  It looks really tasty.  For the rest of you, grab an apple, chug some water, and get your fucking sweat on.  Hooked up or not, that next conquest, and more importantly YOU, will be thanking yourself over, and over, and over again for such dedicated effort to your physical health.

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