I Drank All the Coffee

I guess I'm starting this blog as a kind of diary, if you will. I desperately need somewhere to release my thoughts and emotions where they won't be judged or misinterpreted or shrugged off like they're worthless. If I had friends, I'd talk to them... But I'm running awfully low in the friend department; especially ones that live near me that I can physically hang out with, complain to and ugly cry around.

I've been extraordinarily moody lately. The last couple of days, really. Sara just blames it on the fact that I'm going to start my period in a week, and of course she's not completely wrong, but there's more to it than that. Sara now has two jobs while I barely have one. I feel like an asshole about it, too... But it wasn't that long ago that it was me working like a dog while she barely had a job, so I guess I shouldn't feel too terrible. The biggest problem is that she keeps trying to gently tell me that I need to go back to regular duty at work. I can't do it. It's plain and simple. I just can't.

Aria housekeeping is serious fucking business, and even though Sara tells me that I'm not going to find another job that pays that much - and I know she's right - it still doesn't make it any easier to think about. Not only can I not physically sustain this job for any extended period of time, but I cannot emotional sustain this job for any extended period of time. Even though I've told Sara over and over again how miserable the job makes me and how I can't physically keep doing it and how I can't emotionally keep doing it and that I'm trying to find another job to help sustain us, she still tells me I need to go back... Why? "Because we need the money."

Is it so wrong of me to be pissed off that she is basically telling me that my health and my feelings don't mean as much as the income does? Should money mean more than my health and my feelings? Should I be one of the mindless sheople that simple accept that they will be saddled with a shitty job for the rest of their lives just so that they can scrape by, paycheck to paycheck? No. That's fucking stupid to me. Why do you think I've been getting as involved as possible with OccupyLasVegas.org?

Anyway, I won't get into politics just yet, but you get my point.

Maybe my pride is too big for its shoes, but I can't stomach the thought of selling my soul. There is no price that is worth my soul, my health, my emotional stability. I'm too ideological. I'm too much of a dreamer. Maybe I come off as melodramatic, but damnit! This shit means something to me, just like there's things that mean something to Sara that I don't understand. I respect them anyway, because I know what it's like to have your ideals, your feelings, and your thoughts shrugged off as if they are nothing. Maybe my ideals mean nothing to Sara, but she has some ideals that mean nothing to me... Do I shrug them off? No. I respect them because I know they are important to her. Is it so terrible to ask the same?

One more clip of a thought before I end this post:
Sometimes I feel like she's trying to mold me... Like she's trying to fit me into a shape that isn't quite my own but that fits better with her life... Every now and then I get this creeping suspicion that she's trying to change me into what she wants me to be. It scares me, because I've gotten lost as a result of being molded before. I lose myself so easily when I love someone. I let them change me and I let my pieces be altered because it makes the other person happy... I don't want that to happen again. I want someone who accepts me for who I am and I do hope that Sara is that someone. I do love her and I don't want to lose her, but I won't stick around if she's just going to stamp out what makes me me.

--> TL;DR <--
In the event that this post was too long, here's the cliff notes.

• Started this blog as a sort of diary.
• Been very moody lately.
• Housekeeping fucking sucks.
• Feeling shrugged aside.
• Am I being molded into someone less me and more her?