ON MALES — When They Just Cannot Measure Up.

Reflection from September 13th, 2006 @ Age 25


I woke up this morning at two and still haven’t been able to go back to sleep!  I’ve got a lot on my mind.  First and foremost (today, anyways), Danny and I broke up.  Or rather, Danny passively broke up with me; I think he was intentionally being an asshole so I would see we should not be dating because we’re just not right for each other.  I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to deal with?  I was proud though because yesterday I really wanted to get foggy but I didn’t call Mike.  It’s hard to feel these things out.  I really like what Martie was saying to me the other day, that you have to be willing to suffer to be happy and whole.  And then I thought about this Ginny Owens song I love where she talks about how Jesus let them nail him to the cross (although for what purpose, at this point, I am still not sure) and then she says at the end of the song that she’ll walk through the fire if it brings her closer to you (you being god, of course). 

Another thing, this apartment hasn’t been feeling a whole lot like home to me.  I love the space but with Danny not around and my current lack of friends within an hour radius, I’m feeling lonely again.  Lonely and sad.  Oh, I forgot to tell you some stuff about Daniel.  Okay, well first of all he was always criticizing the foods that I eat.  Not in a healthy “I’m concerned for your physical wellbeing” way, but in a “stop eating so much food, that food, the wrong food,” blah blah blah you fat cow.”  Secondly, he told me the other day that I was too drunk when Alexi and I stopped over after our purse excursion and wine escapades.  He said I kept asking him who Andy Roddick (or some other pro tennis player) is dating, like six times he said.  And he said he didn’t know what the hell Alexi was talking about (probably because he wasn’t even listening).  And then Danny tries to tell me that “you were too drunk” is a fact and not an opinion.  I said Danny (you fucking retard), “you were drunk” is a fact, “you were too drunk” is an opinion.  He didn’t get it though, which figures.

So anyways, even if I were the alleged “too drunk”, what the hell is he doing talking with his boyfriends and not with me and Alexi.  Whatever, bad move Maris.  I haven’t done the repeat question thing since beginning of sophomore year of college!  But anyways, the point was that he was mad at me for it and he himself was embarrassed because it was in front of his motherfucking friends, and he reportedly was “concerned” for me, which he totally wasn’t!  But he did curiously give me wine at his place upon request which makes no sense if he thought I was “too drunk”.  And then I threw up (in a trash can though!) and then we got up to leave and Alexi tripped over the slight bump between inside and outside of the storm door and just completely fell over.  And then she could not keep her balance and we went home.  When we got back, I talked her into staying a while for some macaroni and cheese, which she did.  And then I got her to stay for like two more drawn out cigarettes while she was eating a little loaf of bread.  And then she wanted to go home, and I didn’t want to let her.  But what was I supposed to do?  Hold her hostage?  Lock her up in here and hide my keys so she can’t get out?  I don’t think so.  But it’s a tough question considering it deals with drunk driving, and then there’s her prior DUIs.  If she got stopped and ticketed it would be her third.

So anyways, the gist of this is that Danny’s a motherfucker and I was stupid to get back together with him.  And this talk of being friends, now?  What a moron—how’s that supposed to work?  I guess I’ll prolly just have to cut him out of my life again.  No, really I’m being unfair and placing blame and playing the name game.  But, I am definitely and legitimately angry with him.  Half the time anyways—the other half, I’m just lonely for him.  But either or, I still don’t understand his obsession with judging me regarding food/drinking/etc.  But what can I say?  The boy’s got issues and refuses to deal with them.

So, people always ask you, what do you want to be when you grow up?  Well I’m getting closer to growing up and I finally know!  And it’s for sure too.  I want to be an author.  I’m not cut for a 9-5 job.  I will find a way out of it through writing.  I would love that!  Spending time just thinking and reading and going out into the world and experiencing, and then writing.  And I can do it, I can do this.  But then the fog clears and I don’t know if I can do it or not!  I think I can, and I certainly want to believe that I can and believe in myself, but there’s still an element of doubt inside of me.  I think it’s actually my father talking to me in my head, which obviously means the doubt has no merit.  Any girl who can sit down and write as much as I do, and who thinks as much as I do, and loves learning as much as I do just for fun, can surely write a book that will be published.  So many people do it, and I know I can too.  I think I just get nervous when I start thinking about what I should write about.  Because that I still don’t know.  Well, wait a minute, I do know that because I want to write about my life experiences, and my pain and joy, and my naivety and how it’s impacted my perception of the world around me.  And I want it to be funny, and to be sad and joyful. 

What I don’t know is this—from what point of view should I write?  But come to think of it, I already know that too!  It’s simple, I want to write from my POV.  I love me and I love my brain and I love writing and I just wanna put it all together.  But I’ve got a headache now, ever since I woke up at 2am! 

Isn’t it funny how I can just go on and on and on!  And I think that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be, because (as Martie told me the other day), we learn by doing.  And hence, I will begin my writing and just write.  I’ll do stream of consciousness writing, and when I have nothing to talk about there (hah!), I’ll recount childhood memories in writing.  With as much as I can write, I’ll have plenty of raw material to look at and pull from.  And as for all the other details, I’ll work them out when I get there. 

Anyway, I would just like to take a moment to say, I haven’t truly recounted the whole Danny & Marissa breakup story, but I have grown tired of the telling for the moment.  I’m pushing 5am and am going to take a shower (and then pack my lunch, drive to work, endure Neil’s bullshit, exchange my brand new White House skirt that has hemming problems, and get mom and Beth’s bday presents, then stop at Tuesday Mornings to check out the rugs there, then drop off the dry cleaning if I have time, then come home, eat dinner, go to school, and finally come home and go to bed).  I sometimes surprise myself when I have such a busy schedule, most of it having to do with errands and work.  Sucky sucky, I’m an author who is writing in preparation for to put together her first book, and when I financially can, I will quit the legal field and just write.  Experience and write.  Read and learn and experience and write.  My written words are my voice; always have been. 


Gol-ly, I’ve been feeling so blah lately.  Coincidentally, so has the weather.  Not a good combination if you know what I mean.

You know, my prized possessions are my journals.  I love that I can look back through them and remember so much more!  It takes me back to my own 20-something, well, it takes me back to my college mindset and all the activities and people who were influencing my life. 

You know also, I think it’s pretty coincidental how Dave Magoon was always in my life.  Because I never really hardly even got to spend time with him because his schedule was so jam-packed.  But he made the time for me (sometimes with him and his bozo friends but whatev, it’s all the same now) once I finally asked for it, and that was pretty sweet of him to do.

It’s funny though because all his guest book things online are jam-packed with “he was so smart and an upstanding student and so nice and so friendly.”  I guess that’s just the way they must express their love.  But it bothers me and the reason is twofold: (1) because of my own inferiority complex and (2) out of concern for all those who don’t have all those wonderful qualities.  Okay, well there’s a third reason too, because, how come I was the only one who saw his shitty qualities?  I know, why would anyone say anything terrible about him, especially now that he’s dead.  But I don’t care.  He was one of those people that everyone loved.  And he didn’t have any issues with others either.  But that’s just not possible right?


Okay, I’m sitting in a window booth at Yours Truly and there’s like, a city counsel meeting or something going on at the table next to me.  Interesting.  So anyways, I always felt inferior to Dave because he was just so perfect.  Social, school, family, friends, I mean he had it all.  But it was terribly painful only getting like, .00000001% of Dave’s attention back then.  And I don’t know, I only know that I was in love with the boy everyone thought he was.  I remember telling my mom, he’s so perfect!  And there the curse began.  But anyhow, I usually felt not good enough in regard to everything.  But the stark difference was in comparison, which I couldn’t have helped, but was so painful in the end.  And David just had no idea.

And then, of course, I get angry at how everyone writes about how he was so perfect in every way.  And that makes me angry because, what about all the regular, non-perfect people?  Are they not a worthy of love too?  Now that I’m thinking about it, this one also relates back to the “not good enough” neurosis.  Do other people who actually have (visible) flaws not deserve as much love as Dave because they aren’t perfect?  No!

Okay, whatever…I am just a writing fool this morning.  But I gotta finish up my (now cold) breakfast and get to work (blah).  I hope Neil’s not there!


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