Chapter 61: SPMS

I don’t know if I’ve wrapped my mind so much up in a fictional story of a life more exciting and at the same time more devastating than my own, that when I return to reality I’m disappointed, or if it’s the fact that maybe I was upset before I started reading, and all week I have been avoiding reality by reading this fictional story. I’m almost done with the second book in a series of three, and I just started the first one on Tuesday and here, Saturday, I’m pretty certain I’ll be ready to start the third before I go to bed tonight.
Today started out rough, I didn’t go to bed until about 4:30 last night, only to wake up early this morning, 7:30ish or 8:00ish. I had made tentative plans with Diva and New Roommate (who will probably get a nickname later) to go and look at a house for rent at 9:00 AM. Last night when I left Ducky’s I told her that they would probably flake out on me. I didn’t mean it to be offensive; I simply knew how things would turn out. Ducky said that we would do something afterwards, just something stupid I had wanted to do, and I didn’t let her know, but I was thinking to myself that she would flake out as well. People have become so easily predictable lately. Needless to say, none of those plans materialized and I went to hang out at my parent’s house; for some reason I regretted it the moment I got there. No one was there, I could have turned around and gone back home and no one would have been the wiser, but I figured that the bad feeling would go away soon enough. I sat in the driveway reading and not much later my mom pulled into the driveway.
Almost instantly she was on my nerves. I don’t recall what was said, probably nothing out of the ordinary, but I was irritated by all the questions. I just wanted to read my flipping book, was that so much to ask? She never talked to me before, why was today so different? Then she asked if I wanted lunch, telling me the variety of options that I had. I told her I wasn’t hungry, even though my head hurt with it. Finally I realized that she was trying to get me to eat lunch with her, so I asked her if she was hungry and she said she was getting there. So I put my bookmark in and got up and we made sandwiches and ate together. As usual I was the one talking and she finished her sandwich before I was half way through with mine. When my dad came down to eat she asked him what he wanted for dinner and then she asked me if I was going to be joining them, I told them I already had plans for that evening and had to be home by 6. My mom asked me what my plans were and I couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough, and she guessed the plans were with a boy. Then more questions started and she wanted to know all about him, I told her that he was new, and that’s probably the only reason he bothered asking me to go with him to this party (it’s not a date, it’s just a carpool) and she continued asking questions and I continued to answer with “I don’t know”. It was annoying. So then my mom says, “Well you’ll need to find these things out” I told her there was no need, this wasn’t going anywhere. She chuckled and said, “famous last words.” Sometimes I think my mom wouldn’t care if I married a bull frog or person, as long as she had a son-in-law, which is one of the only reasons I still stand opposed to arranged marriages. I had already told her earlier that day when she was congratulating me on my job and telling my dad that they had a successful college graduate in their family room that I was successful and I didn’t need a man, it was supposed to sound like a joke or like the movie I probably originally heard it from, but my mom only got worried, “Oh yes you do,” she protested. It maybe true for the lonely nights but not for the heartache and aggravation that boys tend to be in full stock of. I rolled my eyes as usual, yeah, but I didn’t need one to survive.
I think my mom lives vicariously through me. She wants me to become a Human Resources Professional, so that I can have three little letters at the end of my name…my title. She gets so excited about these things, she wanted me to be a lawyer so she could brag about that, then she wanted me to get my MBS and now it’s so HRP….maybe those would be the initials I would get. I smiled to humor her but I really could care less. In fact today, I don’t care about anything at all.
Later I finally said that I was going to get going; every time that I mention that I am going to leave, that’s when my mom decides to become a conversationalist. This time she decided to show me the difference between business and business casual via the JCPenny catalog. She kept saying, “This is what business casual looks like,” to which I would reply for the 14th time today, “yeah, I don’t have a problem identifying business casual, it’s what we dress up like for corporate stuff at work.” I felt like my mind was trying to break out of my skull and a fluid stream of profanities coursed behind my eyes making them hurt so I leaned back and closed my eyes and concentrated on not yelling at my mom, especially with curse words. I finally took an opening, leaned in and gave her a hug and told her I would see her later.
I refuse to believe that all of my hostility has to do with me PMS-ing…but it’s the only thing to explain away the uncontrollable anger that I feel right now. I am angry at everyone, I discriminate against no one, everyone is currently on my bad list and everyone is foreshadowed with failure. All it will take is for someone to do exactly as I thought they would, and then I will have all the reason I need to hate them right now, to want to throw something at them.
Speaking of which, as I wrote one particular gentleman tried to start a conversation with me via the internet. The conversations are always futile and short lived and the bane of my existence. I have dreaded them the past couple of weeks, and I feel that it may be due to the feeling that he always starts something he can’t follow through, such as beginning a conversation and being unable to sustain it. Today was not the day to try and do that. As I wrote here, and wrote him back I would take breaks and throw a shoe at wall, a couple of times; I just threw it as hard as I could. I’m really pissed off, I can’t explain it and every time that Asshole (that’s right, I tried to come up with a good literary name, or something that reflects his personality and sadly, all I could scrounge up was Asshole…therefore from this time forth he shall be known) talks to me he pisses me off even more. Why does he make me so angry? I don’t know, but all I know is I can’t stand how he pumps you for information and who knows why he does that, but he’s just an information whore and I’m sick and tired of feeding his lame ass! I’m sick and tired of him!! I don’t care if I hurt his feelings by not responding back. He is making me uncontrollably angry and I’m having a hard time not screaming each time I throw the shoe at the wall or the ground. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME!?!?! My only sick satisfaction is that I was able to elude answering one question, and even though it’s not a big deal if he has the answer there is victory in the fact that he does not.
Is it all my hormones hanging around the rage pole rather than the emotionally drained and crying in the corner pole? Why can’t I just be balanced? The worst part is in less than an hour Mr. Collins will be arriving to take me to the ball at Netherfield Park (a 40-or so minutes drive) and I feel I will be Elizabeth Bennett at least one more time as I duck my head in shame for even having to be in the same room. I keep contemplating, thinking maybe if I call and say I’m sick my rage could pass for sickness. It just feels too much like high school prom, when I hoped that my date had stood me up, waiting here tonight, in my room typing, hoping that I don’t have to stop because Mr. Collins decided to go through with this, or didn’t even get lost on the way. Oh I hope he changes his mind or gets lost. Either way, Ducky is supposed to go to this party and she will be my way out, I won’t be feeling good and Ducky is leaving anyway, she lives closer to me, so she’ll take me home…I just hope it’s that easy, and I hope she doesn’t flake out again tonight, I might not be able to handle that one. I just hate life right now, and going to a party with Collins is not what is going to help me feel better.