First, go read this. I deserve every word of it.

"Why would anyone be so proud of incompetence that they'd cling to it like a badge of honor?" Because it's all I'm good at. Gotta be proud of something, and it's not like I have any positive traits to be proud about in myself. I can lie to myself and claim it's a good thing to be a stubborn slob if I claim it's for feminist principles.

I am truly a complete and total asshole. I am the most selfish, snottiest bitch who thinks she's so high and mighty above everyone else, when really I'm one of the crappiest people around. I think I'm so superior and it's all a bullshit lie, a front so I can stand myself. Hah hah fucking hah hah.

No, I can't take criticism well, nor can I stand on my own two feet, grow a spine, and learn to grow up and do what has to be done as an adult.

That entry was all a lie at the end. I didn't know what the hell to think after coming to the disturbing conclusion that I really should cave in and conform by now. Especially when I realized how unlikely I was to really turn over a new leaf about it. I figured "oh well, it's not like I ever change and change well enough to satisfy anyone anyway."

I can make you a list of how many things I do wrong in the house that I am attempting at correcting in my behavior. You can see just how much of a shitty person I am here.

(And yes, I may disagree with her standards and immaturely whine about it, but I do think she is right and I am wrong, so I wouldn't tell her to fuck off. Hell, I don't tell ANYONE to fuck off.)

* Having my boyfriend over too much.

* Not telling him to leave and giving him a key to the apartment.

* Using too much heat and electricity.

* Not turning the taps tightly enough so that they don't drip.

* Doing the dishes fast enough (she leaves notes when I haven't done them fast enough to her satisfaction).

* Taking out the trash fast enough (ditto).

* Using the wrong kind of trash bags.

* Not cleaning anything well enough or fast enough.

* Not picking up the living room fast enough.

* Putting the knives away in the wrong position.

* Losing the spoons.

It can be safe to say that if anything looks crappy around here, I'm responsible.

It's hard to believe, but I do try for awhile, out of sheer fear if nothing else. However, inevitably, after a month or two, I backslide. I stop feeling so scared of what will happen if I don't do as she says, I start getting comfortable and returning to my nasty slacker ways. Because it's not like I'm cleaning because I personally care, mind you, I'm only doing it to make someone else happy. And frankly, I'm not good at that. Just ask Mom. I don't think I'm ever going to be good enough, really. I start trying to do A, B, C, D, and E the right way, and in a few weeks I find notes saying that I'm royally fucking up on F, G, H, I, J, K, and L. After awhile, it's too many balls for me to handle juggling, and some fall, and it all starts over. Which is why my usual reaction is to (a) stop bothering, or (b) make someone who actually cares do it. And y'all wonder why I'd rather men started helping out? Lord knows I won't do it and get it right.

And what's funny is how I think I'm so fucking superior to other people! I think I can get on Dave for having problems with saving money, and yet I'm obviously the pot calling the kettle black. I can't claim much moral superiority over him on much, really. I think I'm superior to Nikki because I didn't rent a place with cockroaches and don't leave every last inch of my stuff all over the floor. And of course, I think I'm superior to every female on the planet because I don't care if the house is clean. Bullfuckingshit. I am one of the biggest losers alive.

I never get it right. I never figure anything out for myself. I never truly turn over a new behavioral leaf, even if I genuinely want to and genuinely try. I don't manage to change. Instead, I whine and gripe to every single person in range of me in hopes that they perhaps know a solution I can use. (And to think that I griped at Dave last night for depending on other people to help him out too much. I'm a fucking hypocrite.) Then of course, I piss them all off by rejecting everything for one reason or another, or just not following through on the solutions I did like. It's easier for me to stay unhappy rather than make drastic changes. It's the devil I know. I'm too scared of change. I'm too scared to change. I'm already on a roller coaster from hell, I'd rather not choose to do something that might make it jump off the tracks. I'm too scared of taking on more than I can handle.

I am such a fucking child who can't remotely grow up fast enough to keep up with life. I am so tired of fumbling in the dark. I was griping the other day about being young and stupid and someone pointed out that no, I am not young. I'm just stupid, and staying that way. I always hoped that the older I got, the more I'd just naturally grow up and want to do the things I don't want to do, and somehow magically figure out how to handle them. Obviously, this isn't working. I don't know what to do about it.

All I know is that when I do try to change my character, I suck at it. I make a biiiiiig deal to everybody about how I'm going to improve, I do Saddam Hussein's little "I can change!" song and dance, I attempt change, and yet I still fuck it up. There's always something wrong with me. I can deal with that in myself, but I don't deal with it well with other people having problems with it. I want to live in my own fantasy world that everybody is fine with me being me, and in reality they are NOT, and are not shy in letting me know this.

Once upon a time, I was an officer in a club. I wasn't very good at what the club did, but for some sick reason I liked going and semi-participating and whatnot. After being an officer in it for a few years or so, I royally ticked off another officer, who then proceeded to blast me with every possible fault, mistake, and blooper that I had made in the last six months. It was a long list. Some of it was not my fault. Other things he would have known about had he consulted with our other fellow officer that I was working with on them. And others were all me being a godawful fuckup. He said that he wasn't writing this to try and make me quit, but to make me shape up.

At the same time, my ex was playing Iago on me and telling me that he and everyone else in the club also thought I was a sucky officer and had been talking about me behind my back (I found out too late that "everyone else in the club" was really just him), and that I really should quit and let someone else who'd be better at it step in. If I didn't vacate the spot, he said, somebody better than I would never come along and get to shine where I was dull.

Beween what my ex was saying and reading that list, I knew I couldn't do it. I never would be good enough for what they wanted in an officer. I could change some things, I could attempt to change others, but... in the end, I wasn't going to cut it. I could see what would happen in my head. Going to every meeting, feeling sick to my stomach knowing that everyone thought I was heinous, trying to be a good girl and conform to their expectations, and yet still managing to find new ways to tick everybody off. (Hey, just like living at home, what a coincidence.) I'd just be waiting for another axe to fall.

So I quit the officer position and the club, effective immediately. Maybe that wasn't what the other officer wanted, but that's what he got. I no longer am in contact with any of these people, but from what I've heard the club is doing fine and dandy without me. (Though the funny thing is that the person they got to replace me was the officer I originally replaced, who did even less than I did. Ah, the irony. But she was the other officer's girlfriend, so nobody would get on her case.)

Trying to make myself better to other people seems like a losing cause. Delaying the inevitable. If someone has that big of a problem with me, we might as well just give up now. If S&D and Hill had come to me and said the things that they did to Dave about how I was ticking all of them off and they didn't want to be around me any more, I probably would have never spoken to them again. Not because I was mad at them for telling me the brutal truth, but because I couldn't be good enough and salvage things enough to please them.

I have biiiiig inadequacy issues. And zero confidence in my ability. Going on the evidence, how could I have any?

"You'd better show me how you can stand on your own two feet."

Hah. Yeah, everyone's seen how good I am at that.

"You'd better demonstrate a willingness to accept criticism."

See above whining.

"You'd better show me a willingness to learn from your mistakes."

Willingness to learn, yes. But do I learn? No. Just ask anyone who knows me in real life. The definition of insanity is...

"You'd better know how to look in a mirror and figure out that sometimes, the problem is you."

I'm aware of that. More than sometimes. I just like to blame it on everyone else to make my selfish ass feel better.

"You need to show me that only you define yourself, and that you don't let anyone else do it for you, that you don't allow yourself to back down when challenged."

Do I define myself? Sure. In nasty terminology, but I do. However, when most other people you know think that you're wrong, wouldn't you at least start to wonder if you should be doing what they're doing?

As for being challenged, the plain truth of the matter is that I can't fucking stand up for myself and make it stick. I can't tell you how many times I've got furious enough to start yelling and standing up for myself, only to get intimidated, get scared, get frustrated, or just plain get ignored during the ensuing battle. (Dave is the only person I can actually stand up to without falling to pieces.) I don't seem to be dominant enough emotionally- or just plain enough convinced of my being right over someone else being wrong- to sustain myself during the course of screaming. My attempts at standing up for myself haven't exactly helped anything, and sometimes have disimproved the situation. I think I've banged my head against the brick wall enough- it's still not breaking.

That said, I'm going to spare y'all from my daily torments. All I ever do is whine and bitch about how miserable I am and how I "can't" do anything about it. Y'all are tired of hearing it out of me, fine. I get it now. So I'll stop. It's the least I can do- hell, probably the most I can manage to do to please others in my entire existence. From now on, I will keep my goddamn feelings and my whinings and my life all to myself. I'll stay as quiet as I can. If anyone asks how I am, I'll just lie and say I'm wonderful. If I need to whine, as I inevitably will because my character never changes, I'll get some fucking paper.

This journal's dead.

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