Don't you just hate those insipid airheads that have to make resolutions and have idiotic superstitions about new year's eve?  I know I can't stand them...

even though I'm one of them.

Yes...I am the girl in the crew that cries at midnight when she doesn't have her dreamboat to kiss.  I am the one with the long list of unattainable resolutions.  I am the one that has to have my house and car so clean that I'm not even allowed in them.  I am the one that has to have new sheets on the bed, everything showered and shaved, make up and hair flawless, wearing new sassy panties and sleeping in a new nightgown.  The calenders have to all be changed, the wallpapers on my phone and computer changed, new ringers and screensavers for everyone in my phone book.  I MUST write in my journal, which I neglect all year so I can expose my pathetic life online, so that chapter of my life can be closed.  Yes...and I have to be drunk.  Drunkeness, even if I'm alone, is a must on new year's.

Well...not this year.  For the most part.  The house was pretty clean but not the car.  Put on the new sheets and slept in a new nightie, but the hair was all over, no make up, and I didn't shower or shave shit.  Changed my ringer and screensaver, but no one else's.  I updated my journal, but not detailed...just basic flashbacks and observations.  Didn't call anyone, didn't go anywhere, didn't really want to be bothered.  I just sat at home with Becca and my little sister and got drunk while watching stupid music videos.  I was alright until we actually watched the ball drop, at which time I felt this horrible sadness squeeze my heart.  Juice hadn't called, though I talked to him earlier in the day.  I knew he'd be drunk off his ass by then...but still...I was hoping for a call.  I called him and his phone was off.  I went into the bathroom and tried not to cry, and pretty much succeeded.  Those few tears that escaped don't really count. They weren't really about him.  It was just the moment.

Smoke called later and asked to come over, but after badgering the shit out of me to let him come, he never showed up.  I just went to sleep.

Juice and I have been...hmmmm.  Good?  I'm not sure.  He's more attentive while still being distant.  I don't know how to put it.  He's there...but not really there.  The phone calls are still sporadic, but he sees I'm serious about not calling him, so he's been calling me.  Not alot...but at least calling.  I haven't been upset with him...really.  He's no longer blocked on my phone.  I figured I need to find that strength in me...not depending on obstacles to keep my stalker tendacies in check.  He speaks of us more in a couple sense...while still talking about other girls.  He does, however, assume that someone else is in my life...greatly due to my outstanding acting abilities.  Heh.  Will this last?  Who knows.  I'll probably be back to a rocking mess by Friday, calling like a fiend and crying when he doesn't answer.  But I do notice that the more I back off, the better I feel and the more he responds.  Fear is a good playing card, I tell you.  We're afraid of losing each other, but too afraid to act right and really do something about it, so we play off of each other's fears to make ourselves feel better.  Twisted.

So what's different in my life so far this year?  Not a damn thing...even while everything is changing.