Monday: I feel like I need to write but I don't know what about. This is how I start. If I start from "I don't know" I can usually find a destination. I'm tired. I'm always tired. I will sleep 14 hours in a row if given the opportunity. And still be tired. It's my rock-n-roll lifestyle. Guh.
There's a tree in my living room. A god damn christmas tree. If I weren't so lazy I'd show you a picture of it. It's white. Sunday. I made a pot roast. POT ROAST. Goat cheese & sage mashed potatoes. And polenta. Allen made cookies.
I think we're going Kindle for xmas. Why not? Maybe it's the tv commercials that are pushing us that direction. Whatever, white people.
I've got stuff to think about. A lot of stuff. I tend not to think about anything and that could be dangerous for my future health. I already have a bad memory. Alzheimer's, here I come! The problem is, the stuff I need to think about isn't stuff I can write about here. It's "personal", it's "private". But it's the usual stuff: life, love, friendship.
I spend a shitastic amount of time on Tumblr these days, dodging the porn tumblrs I follow (ack! giant cock! ack! women showing off their assholes!), looking for images that inspire me. Maybe it's helping me develop... something. Interest in things? An artistic vision? No. It's mostly reminding me of what it felt like to be a teenager. But they are strangely fond feelings. Maybe because it was the last time I had my own personality. Or something.
I do love being overly dramatic.
Tuesday: Still tired. Twitter's giving me the whale and I've got something VERY IMPORTANT TO SAY!
Ok. I seem to have drowned myself in some gross Michael Kors parfum this morning. Free samps - you never know what you'll get.
This song is taking over my life! And the funny thing is, I find it kind of offensive (really, dropping "faggot" and repeating "I'll fuck you til you love me?" C'mon!) but I can't stop listening to it!
FOK JULLE NAAIERS from Die Antwoord on Vimeo.
Ohmygod! I was just making coffee in el jefe's office and nearly broke all the cups! That would have seriously made me feel like an asshole! Nothing broke. I may have chipped one of the cups, though. Shhh! Don't tell!
Folks are already posting their top 10 songs of 2011 on this blog. It was started at the end of last year by Justin so some sweet dudes could share some sweet music. I'm not even sure I've listened to anything new this year. I've totally fallen off when it comes to music. I think the "old" is setting in! Except for that monstrous song above... Naw, I've got something, enough to come up with 10 songs, anyway, but I think it may be a lot different than last year's mix.
I've got some tumblring to catch up on!
28 November 2011
22 November 2011
It's After 2am on Monday, er, Tuesday
Thank god it's a holiday week, huh? Praise him with great praise. I tried to sleep but I was too cold and couldn't concentrate enough to fall asleep.
Ed (aka "El Jefe") has a one way ticket to Dallas tomorrow and Beth said she "might" be in late afternoon so I's gots nothin' to worry about workwise. Other than waking up in the morning.
I'm f'in tired but I just can't sleep. There's a lot going wrong right now. Things were going ok, even heading in the "right" direction a little while ago but now I'm slippin' slippin' into the same old patterns. Drinking too much. Smoking way too much. Getting fat again. I'm really starting to hate the holidays.
I feel like the happy pills aren't working as well as they were when I first started taking them. That's bumming me out. Really, I can't be expected to talk about things! Dear god.
Ok, that's twice that I've mentioned the big man and I don't mean Clarence Clemons. RIP.
I'm losing it.
OK. I admit it. I've been thinking about my dead father a lot recently and wondering about how I'm going to deal with my mother dying. It's a holiday thing. I always get like this at this time of year. Death. Yeah, I feel guilty about not seeing my mother but I don't know what the point is. I saw her, what?, 2 or was it 3 years ago? and she was so childlike and strange. She was like a "patient" and not like "my mother"... She's not there any more.
And I'm scared to death that I'll end up like her. Though I expect I'll be more like my father. Even though I know I'm a curious blend of the two. A creature made up of the weakest parts of both of them: a senile drunk.
It's that kind of cold, that wet cold, that gets deep into your bones. Because it's 44° (aka 7°) which isn't that cold, but it's that kind of cold.
And it's all about the holidays that I'm feeling blue. It's every year. Thanksgiving used to be my favourite holiday, now I can barely stand the thought of that 5-6 hour drive across the state, into Maryland and Delaware, where the "family" is. The family that isn't what it used to be. I look forward to seeing people in Philly, my real family, whether they know it or not, not the blood relatives or in-laws.
She was... and it's always her, never him, though he was always the "elephant in the room" so to speak... she was so... she persevered. She did what she thought was best. But what she thought was best was always way off the mark. Sadly, I think I respect my father more. I think I understood him more. And I talk about her as if she were already gone. But she is. She's this tiny creature with strangely beady eyes, like an animal. I think she always was. Always living like an animal... How can I say that? Because I observed it.
And my brother, saying "she stayed with him"?!?! Does he even have any idea? Yes, she did stay. But what she went through...
What she put us through...
She didn't know any better.
That's what hurts. SHE DIDN'T KNOW BETTER.
Yet she deserved better.
Ed (aka "El Jefe") has a one way ticket to Dallas tomorrow and Beth said she "might" be in late afternoon so I's gots nothin' to worry about workwise. Other than waking up in the morning.
I'm f'in tired but I just can't sleep. There's a lot going wrong right now. Things were going ok, even heading in the "right" direction a little while ago but now I'm slippin' slippin' into the same old patterns. Drinking too much. Smoking way too much. Getting fat again. I'm really starting to hate the holidays.
I feel like the happy pills aren't working as well as they were when I first started taking them. That's bumming me out. Really, I can't be expected to talk about things! Dear god.
Ok, that's twice that I've mentioned the big man and I don't mean Clarence Clemons. RIP.
I'm losing it.
OK. I admit it. I've been thinking about my dead father a lot recently and wondering about how I'm going to deal with my mother dying. It's a holiday thing. I always get like this at this time of year. Death. Yeah, I feel guilty about not seeing my mother but I don't know what the point is. I saw her, what?, 2 or was it 3 years ago? and she was so childlike and strange. She was like a "patient" and not like "my mother"... She's not there any more.
And I'm scared to death that I'll end up like her. Though I expect I'll be more like my father. Even though I know I'm a curious blend of the two. A creature made up of the weakest parts of both of them: a senile drunk.
It's that kind of cold, that wet cold, that gets deep into your bones. Because it's 44° (aka 7°) which isn't that cold, but it's that kind of cold.
And it's all about the holidays that I'm feeling blue. It's every year. Thanksgiving used to be my favourite holiday, now I can barely stand the thought of that 5-6 hour drive across the state, into Maryland and Delaware, where the "family" is. The family that isn't what it used to be. I look forward to seeing people in Philly, my real family, whether they know it or not, not the blood relatives or in-laws.
She was... and it's always her, never him, though he was always the "elephant in the room" so to speak... she was so... she persevered. She did what she thought was best. But what she thought was best was always way off the mark. Sadly, I think I respect my father more. I think I understood him more. And I talk about her as if she were already gone. But she is. She's this tiny creature with strangely beady eyes, like an animal. I think she always was. Always living like an animal... How can I say that? Because I observed it.
And my brother, saying "she stayed with him"?!?! Does he even have any idea? Yes, she did stay. But what she went through...
What she put us through...
She didn't know any better.
That's what hurts. SHE DIDN'T KNOW BETTER.
Yet she deserved better.
15 November 2011
Always with the Tumblr!
I'm spending the morning following and reblogging 20 year-olds on Tumblr. Love it. I wish Tumblr had been around when I was 13 - 22. I guess it's fine since I still feel/act like I'm somewhere in that age category. Can you say emotionally stunted?
I still need to finish watching Paranormal Activity part deuce which I started watching yesterday but unfortunately I have to go out to lunch with my co-workers because one of them is having a 60th birthday. I can barely contain my joy. Two to three hours of hell awaits! (I love everyone.)
And it's not like I was asked if I wanted to go to this lunch, it was just like, "this is what we're doing" and how the hell do you get out of that? And of course I wouldn't do it if given a choice. Oh, and here's my favorite sentence from a review of the place we'll be eating at shortly: "The interior is as uninspired as the decor: imagine gynecological office with doilies." Yay! And clearly a man wrote that, "gynecological office"?
Ugh. Getting back into this is harder than I thought it would be... I made beef stew Sunday. With actual beef in it, first time ever. Needs more salt.
Ohmahgod. Students in teh hallway are talking about having an ugly sweater holiday party. What has the world come to? When that is an actual thing now that people actually do? Fie.
I am going through something rough, which I hinted at in the last post, which is kinda shutting me down and sending me into some weird survival, fight-or-flight, head space. Never get out of the boat, that's all I'm saying. Allen wants me to talk about it but I can't, I'm too distraught and ashamed. "You've been acting like this for days," he said last night. Oh, well. I've just got a lot on my mind. And the cramps aren't helping.
I should get back to tumblring...
I still need to finish watching Paranormal Activity part deuce which I started watching yesterday but unfortunately I have to go out to lunch with my co-workers because one of them is having a 60th birthday. I can barely contain my joy. Two to three hours of hell awaits! (I love everyone.)
 |
| There's a baby in this one. |
Ugh. Getting back into this is harder than I thought it would be... I made beef stew Sunday. With actual beef in it, first time ever. Needs more salt.
Ohmahgod. Students in teh hallway are talking about having an ugly sweater holiday party. What has the world come to? When that is an actual thing now that people actually do? Fie.
I am going through something rough, which I hinted at in the last post, which is kinda shutting me down and sending me into some weird survival, fight-or-flight, head space. Never get out of the boat, that's all I'm saying. Allen wants me to talk about it but I can't, I'm too distraught and ashamed. "You've been acting like this for days," he said last night. Oh, well. I've just got a lot on my mind. And the cramps aren't helping.
I should get back to tumblring...
11 November 2011
Oh, Little Girl, Pick Up the Pieces...
You learn to live without...
I have only just begun to drink so this is going to get much more pathetic as the night goes on. This song is destroying me right now:
I always think, "this time it will be different". It's never different and it always hurts. I wouldn't let myself cry yesterday but things are different tonight. I didn't think there would be much to mourn considering the circumstances but that's exactly what I'm doing. I've reached the second stage of grief. Anger. Actually, I went there first because there's never any reason to deny what's happening when it happens and I'm always so quick to walk away. And it's not like anyone ever regrets that I do.
This wasn't supposed to be a pity party but I think that's what I need right now. He said, "don't take it all on yourself," but how can I not? I know how I am. But he's right and you can't control what other people think about you. You do your best and that's all you can do. So no matter how much you want something maybe the other person doesn't want it as much. And no one's to blame for that.
I have only just begun to drink so this is going to get much more pathetic as the night goes on. This song is destroying me right now:
I always think, "this time it will be different". It's never different and it always hurts. I wouldn't let myself cry yesterday but things are different tonight. I didn't think there would be much to mourn considering the circumstances but that's exactly what I'm doing. I've reached the second stage of grief. Anger. Actually, I went there first because there's never any reason to deny what's happening when it happens and I'm always so quick to walk away. And it's not like anyone ever regrets that I do.
This wasn't supposed to be a pity party but I think that's what I need right now. He said, "don't take it all on yourself," but how can I not? I know how I am. But he's right and you can't control what other people think about you. You do your best and that's all you can do. So no matter how much you want something maybe the other person doesn't want it as much. And no one's to blame for that.
Thanksgiving
I'm in a fucking snit about Thanksgiving. I'm completely uninterested in participating because participating means cringing at very questionable beliefs about various races and sexual identities while all the time keeping my mouth shut and trying not to laugh outloud about my relatives love of the sweet baby Jesus. And last year, at my brother's house, Allen overheard something that at the time I blew off but which has since been really bothering me. It doesn't matter what it was, it was just completely outrageous.
And that's just my family. Without going into too much detail this is Allen's: Tension, Television, Abusive outbursts, Multiple poorly-trained large dogs, Depression. But things are probably different now since "Hoppy" had his stroke. But different how? It's the fear of the unknown that makes me want to cry at the very thought of going there.
I want to see Kenny and Chris so hopefully that will happen. Which reminds me, I need to see if we can get a room at the lovely Best Western across the street from the College. That was the best part of the trip last time, apart from going to Perkins in Newark for breakfast and seeing friends in Philly.
It's just a depressing fucking holiday. Almost as bad as Xmas. :-)
Jeez, I totally hit the Publish button when I meant to hit Preview.
Doesn't matter. But I had something else to say but I forgot what it was...
Oh. I'm going to get fucking whiskey drunk tonight. Cos I've had a rough week. :-( We'll see how that goes.
Check this out: http://www.well.com/~art/suicidenotes.html It's a pretty cool page of delicious suicide notes.
And that's just my family. Without going into too much detail this is Allen's: Tension, Television, Abusive outbursts, Multiple poorly-trained large dogs, Depression. But things are probably different now since "Hoppy" had his stroke. But different how? It's the fear of the unknown that makes me want to cry at the very thought of going there.
I want to see Kenny and Chris so hopefully that will happen. Which reminds me, I need to see if we can get a room at the lovely Best Western across the street from the College. That was the best part of the trip last time, apart from going to Perkins in Newark for breakfast and seeing friends in Philly.
It's just a depressing fucking holiday. Almost as bad as Xmas. :-)
Jeez, I totally hit the Publish button when I meant to hit Preview.
Doesn't matter. But I had something else to say but I forgot what it was...
Oh. I'm going to get fucking whiskey drunk tonight. Cos I've had a rough week. :-( We'll see how that goes.
Check this out: http://www.well.com/~art/suicidenotes.html It's a pretty cool page of delicious suicide notes.
09 November 2011
Back to the Blog: Attempt Two
Sometimes I think something's wrong with me, like "my heart feels funny", or "why am I feeling sad and hateful and paranoid", or "why am I seeing things that aren't there?" and then I realize, oh, you've been drinking Monster energy drink, you have PMS, you're fucking tired.
All of that is happening right now. Ack!
But I'm also S-O-B-E-R so coming up with something to write is extry hard. So let's just do what I do best and stream-of-consciousness this bitch.
Just now I did an image search for "extry" and came across a photo of a banana that had monkeys drawn on it. I don't know. So I had to pause to put it on the tumblr. And then I was looking at my dash and thought, one can only stand so much porn some days. Today is such a day. It's like, yeah, yeah, keep licking that clit. Whatever.
Forgive my vulgarity. Stream-of-consciousness, however.
Pulled out an old book, Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, then I remembered "Morning Pages" and got depressed. I'm not a morning person. And she never defines how big the pages should be, just that you should write three of them. Are we talking 8.5 x 11 or 5 x 7? 3 x 5? Right now I'm rockin the 8.5 x 11 size notebook soooo that's a lot of writing. Maybe I should use crayons?
And what's the deal with Facebook? (Did you like my Seinfeld?) What is this "Top Story" bullshit? That is all kinds of annoying.
Ohmygod! Does anyone remember that tooth fairy horror movie? What was it called? The one where the big dramatic line is "I see you, bitch!"
Are you fucking kidding me?! In the theater we saw this! It was so terrible we snuck into a showing of Gangs of New York to cleanse our palates.
But I digress... A doy.
07 November 2011
I've been wanting to get back into this nonsense for a couple of weeks now. The problem is I don't know how to begin. It's not that I don't have anything to say, I'm just shy about it. So maybe I won't advertise.
I don't feel like there's much going on. I just came back from New Orleans a week ago. Thanksgiving is coming up very soon. But I've never written much about daily life unless I can make it at least seem amusing. Like a year ago when I was still new at my job and thought about lying on the floor of my office every afternoon. A lot has changed in a year. In that time I have toyed with talking to strangers on the interweb which proved to be a failure on almost every front with one, maybe two, meaningful exceptions.
In my experimentation I learned that people are just fucking weird. They're even weirder when they think they have the "protection" of the webz. Whereas I can just be "bleh!" and spew anything personal without care (a lesson hard-learned and hard-earned), other people are strangely closed off and impersonal but more than ecstatic to share their inane opinions. Or pictures of their cocks. But I want to know people, not opinions and not (particularly) the pictures and stories of the women they've fucked with the aforementioned cock. I wanted to know why you fucked them, what drives this compulsion to fuck them. But that's too real.
And I think it's precisely because of my history, my past, that I want openness instead of secrets and mystery, light instead of darkness. Maybe it's because I like personalities more than opinions. What are your thoughts, your dreams, your fears, your fantasies? Your history? I dare you to shock me, surprise me. Tell me your story. Because we all have stories and they are usually full of disappointment and anger and hurt and betrayal. Because we are human. But because we are also barely removed from animals.
Your darkest secret, your darkest thought, isn't that dark, I swear. I know what it's like to want to hurt and be hurt and abuse and kill and destroy. (And to be someone else.) I know what it's like to try and one-up other people with tales of suicidality. And I also know about the boring aftermath. Of being locked up together playing card games and footsie under the table. Because it's truly rare to want to actually be dead. Self-preservation is a bitch of an instinct.
Oh, but what is this if not an opinion piece?
Ay(e), there's the rub.
I don't feel like there's much going on. I just came back from New Orleans a week ago. Thanksgiving is coming up very soon. But I've never written much about daily life unless I can make it at least seem amusing. Like a year ago when I was still new at my job and thought about lying on the floor of my office every afternoon. A lot has changed in a year. In that time I have toyed with talking to strangers on the interweb which proved to be a failure on almost every front with one, maybe two, meaningful exceptions.
In my experimentation I learned that people are just fucking weird. They're even weirder when they think they have the "protection" of the webz. Whereas I can just be "bleh!" and spew anything personal without care (a lesson hard-learned and hard-earned), other people are strangely closed off and impersonal but more than ecstatic to share their inane opinions. Or pictures of their cocks. But I want to know people, not opinions and not (particularly) the pictures and stories of the women they've fucked with the aforementioned cock. I wanted to know why you fucked them, what drives this compulsion to fuck them. But that's too real.
And I think it's precisely because of my history, my past, that I want openness instead of secrets and mystery, light instead of darkness. Maybe it's because I like personalities more than opinions. What are your thoughts, your dreams, your fears, your fantasies? Your history? I dare you to shock me, surprise me. Tell me your story. Because we all have stories and they are usually full of disappointment and anger and hurt and betrayal. Because we are human. But because we are also barely removed from animals.
Your darkest secret, your darkest thought, isn't that dark, I swear. I know what it's like to want to hurt and be hurt and abuse and kill and destroy. (And to be someone else.) I know what it's like to try and one-up other people with tales of suicidality. And I also know about the boring aftermath. Of being locked up together playing card games and footsie under the table. Because it's truly rare to want to actually be dead. Self-preservation is a bitch of an instinct.
Oh, but what is this if not an opinion piece?
Ay(e), there's the rub.
05 September 2011
I have a few things to say to...
October 23, 2009
To no one, I'm sure. Who the fuck is on myspace these days anyway? I don't know. The cool kids are all chumming it up over on facebook. Fuck 'em.
I am so angry that it's making me crazy and really making my teeth hurt.
I have a new part-time job with a boss who told me on Tuesday that I need polish and she wants to polish me. At first I was excited by the prospect, I really want (need) a life coach, a mentor. Now I think the comment meant that I'm a turd. Some stupid, indecisive, fat turd who, I could swear, if my poor memory serves me, people used to like and look up to and think was hilarious because of my "shut the fuck up, yer stupid" attitude.
But I have been beaten down. Beaten down so far that I don't even know who I am. And it's been this way for at least 10 years. Sad, lonely, scared, anxious. I'm not funny anymore and I don't find things funny. I've secluded myself so well that the things I liked the most have been co-opted leaving me with nothing. Just this sickness that follows me around like a stupid puppy and forces me to write in code. Now I have to be quiet and non-offensive when I can; I secretly think it's some kind of white trash backlash going on inside of me. Yet when surrounded by people like the ones I grew up with I end up feeling as disgusted as I do when around the middle class suburban folks.
I don't know what I want. I don't know that I can take care of myself. I do know that I don't want to stay here anymore. I hate this city. Pretty much have since day one but now I feel trapped with no where else to go. Trust me, this place sucks. It doesn't have anything you want or need, especially good produce.
I am concerned about finding a real job. I have serious doubts about my qualifications (yes, with a master's degree) and deadly serious doubts about my interview skills. I was forced to go to an all staff meeting on Thursday, then ride back with my co-worker, THEN have a group lunch with the other five people that are currently working in the depository and THEN my boss wanted to drive me home. "I kinda like taking the bus," I lied. That much forced interaction makes me want to throw up. How could I possibly stand a full day interview if I ever made it past a phone one?
As far as I know my husband is slowly dying. We owe over a thousand dollars for an emergency room visit in August or September that amounted to nothing but a misdiagnosis. He doesn't have health insurance by choice. Ridiculous. It is so frustrating that I want to hurt someone and the on-going moving around pains are making me want to tear my hair out. But you didn't hear that from me. And the asthma is acting up again so fuck me if everything isn't fucking wonderful. He'll tell you it is. He's a liar.
Preparing for some serious staring straight ahead avoidance of the truth.
To no one, I'm sure. Who the fuck is on myspace these days anyway? I don't know. The cool kids are all chumming it up over on facebook. Fuck 'em.
I am so angry that it's making me crazy and really making my teeth hurt.
I have a new part-time job with a boss who told me on Tuesday that I need polish and she wants to polish me. At first I was excited by the prospect, I really want (need) a life coach, a mentor. Now I think the comment meant that I'm a turd. Some stupid, indecisive, fat turd who, I could swear, if my poor memory serves me, people used to like and look up to and think was hilarious because of my "shut the fuck up, yer stupid" attitude.
But I have been beaten down. Beaten down so far that I don't even know who I am. And it's been this way for at least 10 years. Sad, lonely, scared, anxious. I'm not funny anymore and I don't find things funny. I've secluded myself so well that the things I liked the most have been co-opted leaving me with nothing. Just this sickness that follows me around like a stupid puppy and forces me to write in code. Now I have to be quiet and non-offensive when I can; I secretly think it's some kind of white trash backlash going on inside of me. Yet when surrounded by people like the ones I grew up with I end up feeling as disgusted as I do when around the middle class suburban folks.
I don't know what I want. I don't know that I can take care of myself. I do know that I don't want to stay here anymore. I hate this city. Pretty much have since day one but now I feel trapped with no where else to go. Trust me, this place sucks. It doesn't have anything you want or need, especially good produce.
I am concerned about finding a real job. I have serious doubts about my qualifications (yes, with a master's degree) and deadly serious doubts about my interview skills. I was forced to go to an all staff meeting on Thursday, then ride back with my co-worker, THEN have a group lunch with the other five people that are currently working in the depository and THEN my boss wanted to drive me home. "I kinda like taking the bus," I lied. That much forced interaction makes me want to throw up. How could I possibly stand a full day interview if I ever made it past a phone one?
As far as I know my husband is slowly dying. We owe over a thousand dollars for an emergency room visit in August or September that amounted to nothing but a misdiagnosis. He doesn't have health insurance by choice. Ridiculous. It is so frustrating that I want to hurt someone and the on-going moving around pains are making me want to tear my hair out. But you didn't hear that from me. And the asthma is acting up again so fuck me if everything isn't fucking wonderful. He'll tell you it is. He's a liar.
Preparing for some serious staring straight ahead avoidance of the truth.
Stupid Cat
March 25, 2009
Well, as I thought, the Sir was sitting on the keyboard as I was trying to post my last entry and now it's there 78 times. Am working on deleting them...Stupid cat.
Wow, deleting all of those really made me want to take the underwear survey...
Well, as I thought, the Sir was sitting on the keyboard as I was trying to post my last entry and now it's there 78 times. Am working on deleting them...Stupid cat.
Wow, deleting all of those really made me want to take the underwear survey...
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Crushed
March 25, 2009
I've started avoiding MySpace like the plague but I feel like I have to put this up here cos I don't know what else to do with it. It's nothing amazing. Last Tuesday someone I actually cared about passed away and...I don't know. This is what I wrote Saturday night, after the funeral. I don't...I think about him everyday. I've been on the verge of tears each day but today they're all just coming out.
21 March 2009
It's been 4 days since my friend Rick died. Today has been one of the hardest.
I have never felt so sad about losing someone. A large part of that has to do with the fact that I didn't get to know him better.
The grief is overwhelming. Being around people makes it worse.
I feel like I haven't had a chance to talk about how I feel. Sometimes I don't feel like I have the right to, sometimes I feel like some people don't deserve to know, sometimes I feel like, I don't know.
I was still in bed when Allen called Tuesday morning. I heard my phone but wanted to sleep a little more. Then it rang again. I knew I had to answer it. Allen told me he was gone. That's when it started. I cried off and on all day. I was supposed to go in to work at noon Almost immediately I called my boss. I sobbed into the phone that Rick was dead, I wasn't coming to work. It turns out I had been so upset when I talked to him that when I showed up Thursday, my next scheduled work day, he was surprised to see me. Didn't think I'd be in at all that week. They gave me a sympathy card.
I feel angry and jealous and just...I don't know. Rick would've been 32 next month, like I will be. Like everyone's said, he had something about him that made you want to be a better person but that also made you feel like you were good enough. He accepted you as you were.
I am so uncomfortable around people that these past few days have been a great strain on my psyche. [...] Like Allen said when we left the celebration, "one of the people you actually liked is gone." Then he reminded me of the Swedish cooking show that would be on QED when we'd stop by to see him and Charissa some weekend days. And I'm really stuck on the Disney World thing. It was like the same day or the day after he got out of the hospital in December and he wanted to get a hot dog at Dee's. He said, when I get better we're all taking a trip to Disney World. I was like, man, I've never been and I really don't ever want to go. But I knew I'd go for him. Whatever he wanted.
That day I had the courage to ask him if, as I had expected even though I hadn't known him before, if this time around was worse than the others. I wasn't surprised, I don't know what the right word is, I guess I was, it was, refreshing to hear him admit, honestly, that yeah, this was worse than ever before. And it was. I can't begrudge him that. I mean, how much can you take? How many times can you fight your own body and come out victorious?
Yet, still, part of you doesn't believe it can happen. He's gonna get better. He's got at least 10 more years left...
And the viewing, his body. I always get upset at viewings when I look at the body. Again, this one was the worst. He actually looked more like himself than most bodies I've seen. And I swore I thought he would open his eyes. He would just wake up and this wouldn't be happening. For a while I couldn't look at him. Then I got used to it. That was Friday.
Saturday. It happened all over again. We had to get in a fucking line for "final viewing." Again, I held his hand, so cold but soft, wanting to sob, tears rolling down my face. "Goodbye, my friend," I said to him in my head. "I'm so sorry."
He's going to open his eyes...
I've started avoiding MySpace like the plague but I feel like I have to put this up here cos I don't know what else to do with it. It's nothing amazing. Last Tuesday someone I actually cared about passed away and...I don't know. This is what I wrote Saturday night, after the funeral. I don't...I think about him everyday. I've been on the verge of tears each day but today they're all just coming out.
21 March 2009
It's been 4 days since my friend Rick died. Today has been one of the hardest.
I have never felt so sad about losing someone. A large part of that has to do with the fact that I didn't get to know him better.
The grief is overwhelming. Being around people makes it worse.
I feel like I haven't had a chance to talk about how I feel. Sometimes I don't feel like I have the right to, sometimes I feel like some people don't deserve to know, sometimes I feel like, I don't know.
I was still in bed when Allen called Tuesday morning. I heard my phone but wanted to sleep a little more. Then it rang again. I knew I had to answer it. Allen told me he was gone. That's when it started. I cried off and on all day. I was supposed to go in to work at noon Almost immediately I called my boss. I sobbed into the phone that Rick was dead, I wasn't coming to work. It turns out I had been so upset when I talked to him that when I showed up Thursday, my next scheduled work day, he was surprised to see me. Didn't think I'd be in at all that week. They gave me a sympathy card.
I feel angry and jealous and just...I don't know. Rick would've been 32 next month, like I will be. Like everyone's said, he had something about him that made you want to be a better person but that also made you feel like you were good enough. He accepted you as you were.
I am so uncomfortable around people that these past few days have been a great strain on my psyche. [...] Like Allen said when we left the celebration, "one of the people you actually liked is gone." Then he reminded me of the Swedish cooking show that would be on QED when we'd stop by to see him and Charissa some weekend days. And I'm really stuck on the Disney World thing. It was like the same day or the day after he got out of the hospital in December and he wanted to get a hot dog at Dee's. He said, when I get better we're all taking a trip to Disney World. I was like, man, I've never been and I really don't ever want to go. But I knew I'd go for him. Whatever he wanted.
That day I had the courage to ask him if, as I had expected even though I hadn't known him before, if this time around was worse than the others. I wasn't surprised, I don't know what the right word is, I guess I was, it was, refreshing to hear him admit, honestly, that yeah, this was worse than ever before. And it was. I can't begrudge him that. I mean, how much can you take? How many times can you fight your own body and come out victorious?
Yet, still, part of you doesn't believe it can happen. He's gonna get better. He's got at least 10 more years left...
And the viewing, his body. I always get upset at viewings when I look at the body. Again, this one was the worst. He actually looked more like himself than most bodies I've seen. And I swore I thought he would open his eyes. He would just wake up and this wouldn't be happening. For a while I couldn't look at him. Then I got used to it. That was Friday.
Saturday. It happened all over again. We had to get in a fucking line for "final viewing." Again, I held his hand, so cold but soft, wanting to sob, tears rolling down my face. "Goodbye, my friend," I said to him in my head. "I'm so sorry."
He's going to open his eyes...
Grrr.
December 29, 2008
Current mood:
cranky
Sometimes you want to go on a rant and say things you shouldn't
say but then people get their feelings hurt. So I'll just talk about
Pittsburgh. I'll just say that there's something very wrong with this
town. It just feels wrong. The real world isn't like this. This place
needs to get outside of itself. It's very insulated, over-protected,
overly dramatic and obsessed with itself. I need to get out of the
mid-west and never look back...If you want me to smile...I'd rather stab
you in the heart. Then I'll smile.crankyDyson.
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- Beau Brendt I hear they are the best vacuum ever.
- Reply
Judas Priest, New Things, End of Term
December 9, 2008
Current mood:
sad
It's weird how you think Things will make
you happy. I have a new phone and a new iPod and I'm bored. Maybe cos I
really want a new TV and a new vacuum and a trip to Montreal. sadI was furiously washing dishes and then furiously breaking twigs off a tree out of boredom. Cos boredom quickly turns to anger. And I'm done with all my schoolwork for the fall term.
I'm really into "Grinder" by Judas Priest right now. No explanation. Just am. "Grinder...Looking for meat, Grinder...wants you to eat," isn't that a weird thing to have stuck in your head often? I ate a Big Mac the other day and it gave me the 'rhea. ?
Thinking about mortality a lot. For a reason. Then Carole King makes me want to cry... Not that I'm necessarily that person, cos that's exhausting, but sometimes I wish I could be that person. To the person who's making me think about it (who probably won't ever read this): I really want you to stick around, but I understand if you can't. I'd be damn tired of it all.
"You've Got A Friend"
When you're down and troubled
And you need some loving care
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
You've got a friend
If the sky above you
Grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together
And call my name out loud
Soon you'll hear me knocking at your door
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
Ain't it good to know that you've got a friend
When people can be so cold
They'll hurt you, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them
Oh, but don't you let them
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
You've got a friend
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- Beau Brendt I got me some issues wit the Carole King.....not that it matters, and not that I am in anyway related to this blog...just thought I would add my 4.4 cents since I got my internet back after a crazy virus and realized I neglected everyone important for quite some time...
So, ummm, meat good, McD's bad. Losing touch with friends that you've had for umpteen years but have really never gotten to know.....superbad.
Fix it!
Group effort.
- Reply
Things that are very funny to me right now.
November 12, 2008
This will forever be funny to me. When Zach Galiflanakis dumps Will Oldham into the pond! I learned this one from Denis:
Also, thinking about Elvis Presley's Hound Dog as a 45 being played on 33. Hot Dog, I don't know if you remember doing that, but it was a good time.
This will forever be funny to me. When Zach Galiflanakis dumps Will Oldham into the pond! I learned this one from Denis:
Also, thinking about Elvis Presley's Hound Dog as a 45 being played on 33. Hot Dog, I don't know if you remember doing that, but it was a good time.
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- CHRI§TER Didn't start the fire, but didn't bother to put it out either. // Whuhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmm. I could compliment the sentiment with the mastication of freshly-prepared instant chocolate pudding. Yes, I'm talking to that man-child in the mirror.
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Can’t write about anything else: Blog entry for school blog (LIS 2600)
November 12, 2008
This is exactly what it looks like. I have this ridiculous class and we have to blog like 3 times a week. See also: website I made for class. Where do I hyperlink on myspace? JLG Web 2600 stupid. Also, Kelly Clarkson mashed up with Nine Inch Nails = Brilliant.
I should really be working on that horrible 2220 paper but it turns out that this class is way more fun than any of the others right now so I'm doin' this. Also, I have to go to the dentist tomorrow for numbing and drilling so I'm overwhelmed by that...
Digital Libraries: Mischo
I'm super psyched about taking Digital Libraries next term...this better be good, Mischo. And so I learn another word: collocate. That's a goodin'. (The correct response is "What's a 'goodin'?") Ooooooo: armamentarium. Another goodin'. Eh, a little history, that's about it. I REALLY wanna learn how to digital library. Give me something informative and hands on...
Dewey Meets Turing: Paepcke, et al.
I'm really having mixed feelings about Google Books and Google Scholar. I thought they were neat ideas before I started school, but now...I don't know. Winners and Losers? Have the publishers lost? Read on. Mo' money? I'm sorry, I have an English background (educational-wise) and this sentence is just ridiculous: "Both partners suddenly had a somewhat undisciplined teenager on their hands without the benefit of prior toddler-level co-parenting." What is that supposed to mean? That nasty web disrupts everything! Linkage. It creeps me out how everything starts connecting after a while. Seemingly unrelated classes/topics suddenly are the same thing and you end up feeling smarter than everyone else. Um, whoo hoo, digital libraries are sexy. It says so right in the article.
This part's good:
Next.Institutional Repositories: Lynch
I've been avoiding this guy like the plague while trying to write a bibilographic essay. He's everywhere. Let's see what he's all about. So is DSpace in any way related to D-Lib Magazine? Answer unclear. Try again later. OMG I just zoteroed this for my paper. Lynch supports IR's (institutional respositories, not info retrieval) for archiving purposes beyond scholarly pubs! Bingo! (Top secret paper internal monologue.) The rest of my thoughts on this are top secret. STAY OUT!
But I will give you something to make you smile:
This is exactly what it looks like. I have this ridiculous class and we have to blog like 3 times a week. See also: website I made for class. Where do I hyperlink on myspace? JLG Web 2600 stupid. Also, Kelly Clarkson mashed up with Nine Inch Nails = Brilliant.
I should really be working on that horrible 2220 paper but it turns out that this class is way more fun than any of the others right now so I'm doin' this. Also, I have to go to the dentist tomorrow for numbing and drilling so I'm overwhelmed by that...
Digital Libraries: Mischo
I'm super psyched about taking Digital Libraries next term...this better be good, Mischo. And so I learn another word: collocate. That's a goodin'. (The correct response is "What's a 'goodin'?") Ooooooo: armamentarium. Another goodin'. Eh, a little history, that's about it. I REALLY wanna learn how to digital library. Give me something informative and hands on...
Dewey Meets Turing: Paepcke, et al.
I'm really having mixed feelings about Google Books and Google Scholar. I thought they were neat ideas before I started school, but now...I don't know. Winners and Losers? Have the publishers lost? Read on. Mo' money? I'm sorry, I have an English background (educational-wise) and this sentence is just ridiculous: "Both partners suddenly had a somewhat undisciplined teenager on their hands without the benefit of prior toddler-level co-parenting." What is that supposed to mean? That nasty web disrupts everything! Linkage. It creeps me out how everything starts connecting after a while. Seemingly unrelated classes/topics suddenly are the same thing and you end up feeling smarter than everyone else. Um, whoo hoo, digital libraries are sexy. It says so right in the article.
This part's good:
"For
librarians the intrusion of the Web into the work on digital libraries
was much more difficult to integrate. Losing the notion of collection in
visions of the future threatened a weight-carrying pillar of
traditional librarianship. Now all that seemed left of the original
partnership with computer scientists were theoretical computing
algorithms without clear connection to recognizable, traditional library
functions.
The disruption to the library community was greatly exacerbated by many
journal publishers' business decision to charge at a premium for
digital content. This decision has been forcing academic libraries to
cancel subscriptions, undermining their role as conduits to scholarly
work."
It's like LIS 2000
flashbacks. The idea of direct connections between libraries and
authors is an interesting idea. (But who will police the police?) This
article was a goodin'.Next.Institutional Repositories: Lynch
I've been avoiding this guy like the plague while trying to write a bibilographic essay. He's everywhere. Let's see what he's all about. So is DSpace in any way related to D-Lib Magazine? Answer unclear. Try again later. OMG I just zoteroed this for my paper. Lynch supports IR's (institutional respositories, not info retrieval) for archiving purposes beyond scholarly pubs! Bingo! (Top secret paper internal monologue.) The rest of my thoughts on this are top secret. STAY OUT!
But I will give you something to make you smile:
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-
CHRI§TER
That was Charita Chen with "Autumn Angel". Thanks, Charita.
From time to time I suffered from the inevitable cognitive over-saturation which demanding erudition sometimes harbors. I think I could do without hyper digitalia for just a little while.
I want recommendations of places to see in Quebec City; tell me if you've any. Go on, now. Drop them like they're hot. Make them a blistery treat for the fingers.
Love to love ya, baby.
- Reply
Facebook Sucks
October 6, 2008
Current mood:
confident
So I joined facebook in an attempt to join this group I "need" to
join for school. It sucks. Except you can see pictures of people you
went to high school with that you never really liked. Maybe Kerrie Porter
wasn't a lesbian? Sam Leaf, who probably is a lesbian, only has a
picture of a dog available, Seth Garvin turned out to be totally
handsome and Chris Zuck is on there. confidentAnyway, the group I wanted to join doesn't give me the option to do so. Figures. I probably just can't figure out how to work the thing. Which would be all of facebook. What a stupidly designed site! I want to just delete it. I don't know why I hesitate.
So, busy with school and trying to live. Still running. Slooooowly getting better at it. Halloween party at our place on the 31st.
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- Beau Brendt Wow, Craziness. Kerrie Porter, don't know her updated story...but I talk to Sam Leaf on occasion, funny stuff...there's def some girl on girl action going on there. I always thought Seth would be handsome, and there was this weird episode a few months ago when Zuck's mom and mine were trying to get us to "hang out" together...whatever that means...lol
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Running Day 3
August 22, 2008
Absolutely refused to get out bed this morning to run and felt sooo guilty about it. Ended up going out at 7pm.
Day two, Tuesday, went well. It was physically easier but much harder mentally. Went out for 20 minutes at 6:45am. Managed to run 4 minutes. Mind, these are not consecutive minutes. 14 years of smoking and the extra pounds are not going to have me moving too quickly.
Today, Thursday and day 3. I hooked up a playlist for my ipod that had a 5 minute walking song then alternated a 1 minute running song and then a 1:30 walking song. Played one of the walking songs twice. I wanted to quit after 3 intervals of running but I had told myself I'd do five running minutes. I did. 5 minutes of run, about 15 of walk. This time it was mentally easier and physically harder. After a number of minutes resting once back home my heartbeat was still at about 120bpms. Not cool. My shins were killing me like they did the first day (but not the second). There was some crampage but I tried to remember to breathe correctly, which seemed to help. So for the record, I've run 12 minutes this week. Aiming for six minutes running on Saturday or Sunday.
Feeling good.
Allen's grandmother died in hospital on Wednesday. She was sleeping. Leaving tomorrow afternoon for MD/DE. She was usually a sweet, funny/snarky lady. Like Allen's song title says "I hope the dream was beautiful."
Absolutely refused to get out bed this morning to run and felt sooo guilty about it. Ended up going out at 7pm.
Day two, Tuesday, went well. It was physically easier but much harder mentally. Went out for 20 minutes at 6:45am. Managed to run 4 minutes. Mind, these are not consecutive minutes. 14 years of smoking and the extra pounds are not going to have me moving too quickly.
Today, Thursday and day 3. I hooked up a playlist for my ipod that had a 5 minute walking song then alternated a 1 minute running song and then a 1:30 walking song. Played one of the walking songs twice. I wanted to quit after 3 intervals of running but I had told myself I'd do five running minutes. I did. 5 minutes of run, about 15 of walk. This time it was mentally easier and physically harder. After a number of minutes resting once back home my heartbeat was still at about 120bpms. Not cool. My shins were killing me like they did the first day (but not the second). There was some crampage but I tried to remember to breathe correctly, which seemed to help. So for the record, I've run 12 minutes this week. Aiming for six minutes running on Saturday or Sunday.
Feeling good.
Allen's grandmother died in hospital on Wednesday. She was sleeping. Leaving tomorrow afternoon for MD/DE. She was usually a sweet, funny/snarky lady. Like Allen's song title says "I hope the dream was beautiful."
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- CHRI§TER Never stop running up that hill, Tussy® pits.
- Reply
- Beau Brendt Kudos to your efforts! I'm proud of ya, sugah.
If you happen to swing by this fine city of mine, let me know. Would love to see ya.
Hope Allen and his fam are dealing well. Sounds like it was peaceful at least...
Run, Lola, Run.
- Reply
Repentant
August 18, 2008
Yes, I said repentant.
Feeling bad about how I feel about people. I am not a nice person. This doesn't mean I don't think you're an idiot. You are. I just feel bad about wanting to tell you that you are.
Woke up at 7:00am. Figured today was as good as any to start running. Out of 21 minutes 3 of them were spent actually running. Aiming for 4 on Tuesday. Already have an injury (I ran into a concrete planter cos the sidewalk was wonky) and my shins are already barking. Just like when I almost played field hockey in high school. My competitive nature hopefully will prevail. Eric, Becky, Andy, someone named "Ovens," all run. I can too, dammit. "That girl needs to be running."
West Ham won their first match of the season. West Ham til I die. Mother fucker. We'll see what happens in the "sack race." Feeling unsure about a sudden change in the hierarchy at this point.
Allen's grandmother is slowly dying. Everyone at work is talking about someone they know who is dying. I think about my mother but don't know what to say. What am I supposed to say? Do?
I don't know.
School begins again in a week. Ready or not. Jesu loves me.
I want to write a 100 page dissertation on what The Color Purple makes me feel. Chris, I do love you, I just wish I was able to show it. You and that movie are so intertwined in my mind and I want to explore it further for the whole world to understand.
My silence is not rejection. Regardless of how much as I wish it was because that is the easy way out. Maybe god is trying to tell you (me) something.
There are 3 people still in my life that seriously affect the way I live. I am going to be annoyed at this tomorrow because I've had too much to drink but a lot of truth comes out of that as well. And I can count on all three of them to read this. Not sure if that's good or bad.
It's gonna rain on your heads.
This one's for Bub:
"Angels Of Light"
And you're lazy
So there's nothing that can stop you now
From sleeping
And your breathing in a silence that will drug you now
So completely
That you're drowning in a liquid that is glowing with strange substance
And your mind will show you pictures of your body.
Without feeling.
And you're rising to the surface of awareness
That's unconscious
And you're dreaming
of real violence
with no consequence,
with no meaning.
You're not free now
But unfolding
and you're beautiful in the light
You're not free now
You're not innocent
You're transparent
and you're right.
This one's for CCP:
You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that I feared
You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories
But there's nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true (gonna come true)
For CBJ aka Beau
Feel To Believe
You lose it just to find it
And as you walk right by it
You forget how you got there
And why you never meant to stay
And I won't watch you waste away
And I won't fake another day
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
I just don't believe in why
You love her
You need her
To feel is to believe her
You know it
You want it
You just can't believe you've got it
And I can't watch you waste away
And I won't beg you still to stay
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
I just don't believe in why
I couldn't watch you walk away
And not forget it
I couldn't watch you turn to stone
And just regret it a single day
Not a single day
If I lose you
Could you find me?
Or would you walk right by me?
The soul and the spirit
Each have got their own limit
And I can't waste another second
Living in hell like it's some kind of heaven
And if one truth leads to another
Isn't there one we can uncover?
There isn't one I will not discover
It's the right time
It's my time
It's the right time
It's my time
It's my turn to discover
And I won't waste a single second
Living in hell as a nadir of heaven
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
And if one truth leads to another
Isn't there one we can uncover?
If there isn't one that we cannot discover
So it's our time
It's our time to discover
Y'all might not get it but I do...
Yes, I said repentant.
Feeling bad about how I feel about people. I am not a nice person. This doesn't mean I don't think you're an idiot. You are. I just feel bad about wanting to tell you that you are.
Woke up at 7:00am. Figured today was as good as any to start running. Out of 21 minutes 3 of them were spent actually running. Aiming for 4 on Tuesday. Already have an injury (I ran into a concrete planter cos the sidewalk was wonky) and my shins are already barking. Just like when I almost played field hockey in high school. My competitive nature hopefully will prevail. Eric, Becky, Andy, someone named "Ovens," all run. I can too, dammit. "That girl needs to be running."
West Ham won their first match of the season. West Ham til I die. Mother fucker. We'll see what happens in the "sack race." Feeling unsure about a sudden change in the hierarchy at this point.
Allen's grandmother is slowly dying. Everyone at work is talking about someone they know who is dying. I think about my mother but don't know what to say. What am I supposed to say? Do?
I don't know.
School begins again in a week. Ready or not. Jesu loves me.
I want to write a 100 page dissertation on what The Color Purple makes me feel. Chris, I do love you, I just wish I was able to show it. You and that movie are so intertwined in my mind and I want to explore it further for the whole world to understand.
My silence is not rejection. Regardless of how much as I wish it was because that is the easy way out. Maybe god is trying to tell you (me) something.
There are 3 people still in my life that seriously affect the way I live. I am going to be annoyed at this tomorrow because I've had too much to drink but a lot of truth comes out of that as well. And I can count on all three of them to read this. Not sure if that's good or bad.
It's gonna rain on your heads.
This one's for Bub:
"Angels Of Light"
And you're lazy
So there's nothing that can stop you now
From sleeping
And your breathing in a silence that will drug you now
So completely
That you're drowning in a liquid that is glowing with strange substance
And your mind will show you pictures of your body.
Without feeling.
And you're rising to the surface of awareness
That's unconscious
And you're dreaming
of real violence
with no consequence,
with no meaning.
You're not free now
But unfolding
and you're beautiful in the light
You're not free now
You're not innocent
You're transparent
and you're right.
This one's for CCP:
You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that I feared
You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories
But there's nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true (gonna come true)
For CBJ aka Beau
Feel To Believe
You lose it just to find it
And as you walk right by it
You forget how you got there
And why you never meant to stay
And I won't watch you waste away
And I won't fake another day
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
I just don't believe in why
You love her
You need her
To feel is to believe her
You know it
You want it
You just can't believe you've got it
And I can't watch you waste away
And I won't beg you still to stay
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
I just don't believe in why
I couldn't watch you walk away
And not forget it
I couldn't watch you turn to stone
And just regret it a single day
Not a single day
If I lose you
Could you find me?
Or would you walk right by me?
The soul and the spirit
Each have got their own limit
And I can't waste another second
Living in hell like it's some kind of heaven
And if one truth leads to another
Isn't there one we can uncover?
There isn't one I will not discover
It's the right time
It's my time
It's the right time
It's my time
It's my turn to discover
And I won't waste a single second
Living in hell as a nadir of heaven
And if one truth leads you to five
I still don't believe in your reasons why
And if one truth leads to another
Isn't there one we can uncover?
If there isn't one that we cannot discover
So it's our time
It's our time to discover
Y'all might not get it but I do...
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- CHRI§TER I fucking love you.
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- Reply
West Ham, Summer 2008
July 21, 2008
Current mood:
grateful
I am so half-assed. I posted the photos now I don't feel like writing about it. gratefulIt was so much better than I had expected. Right proppa. LARP-ing hooliganism! Robert Green! Singing "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" in the West Ham corner! Wanting to fight the opposing side! Watching others do it! West Ham winning!
See also: http://www.whoateallthepies.tv/2008/07/west_hams_us_to.html
I love it. I don't recall the large shirtless man with the tattoos and silly string being English...the actual Brits were more the one's egging the American West Ham fans on.
Thanks, Eric! And Bethany and Justin and Allen. Good day.
OMG! OMG!
June 27, 2008
Current mood:
vibrant
Things are coming up roses! OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!vibrantLife gets better and then I burst into tears and say something like "I don't know the fucking answer!" really loud in the Squirrel Hill Barnes and Noble.
With luck I will have a mini-vacay soon.
I have had a headache for 3 days.
Allen got a whole pay check as a "bonus" today. I was, of course, suspicious. "What is it? Like 'Happy June' or something?" It was totally true. Also, we should have had dental insurance. For free. But open enrollment isn't until April 09. Still, I gotta go to the dentist. These teeth are shit. I wish we had known this sooner.
Now if I can just get the damn school thing on track...And the new neighbor doesn't eat ass...not literally, of course. I'm whatever about that.
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AND WE ARE GOING TO SEE WEST HAM UNITED AT THE END OF JUNE!!!!
Tom & Bill's Farm
June 22, 2008
Current mood:
rushed
20 June 2008. Tom and Bill's farm. About 6:30pm. rushedOn first impressions I thought, okay, this isn't as primitive as I thought it would be. The house is unassuming. We arrived about 2pm and I meet Tom, who is mowing in a pair of short OP-style navy blue corduroy shorts and a pair of Velcro strap trainers. Nothing else. Obviously he is very white but with that reddish tan that very white people get when they are out in the sun a lot. Head, bald, red with whitish spots that made me say, "he should wear a hat." Eric is also mowing. Bill is out somewhere, working, I think. So it's me, Allen, Tom, Eric and Jil and Bethany are inside cleaning up.
We get a tour of the house, it's truly an old farm house, like my Aunt Eva's, with the same smell. There is wood everything. No plaster or dry-wall except in the bathroom and the sitting room, an obvious addition. There's no running water except for the kitchen sink and that is exclusively cold. In the bathtub are many buckets filled with creek water. This is how you flush. Fine. I've been there before. Tom's first conversation is about how he drinks his coffee. With vodka. The "elixir of life."
"Drink?" seems to be the theme at first. After lentil soup, not vegetarian, Tom used a beef bone for the base and I think it's the best lentil soup I've ever had, we sat around on the back porch talking. There are hummingbirds and feral cats, bull frogs and plenty of bugs. And there are "solar showers."
Tom and Bill talk in a way I'm not used to. Tom especially likes to talk. He talks about sleeping up on the ridge of the valley being "like sleeping in a mother's embrace" and how it feels like the valley is "reaching up and holding you."
Then there are the stories about the house. Here we go, I think. Let me guess, it's haunted? Well, first of all, the valley the house sits in runs the wrong way, east to west. Most valleys around here run north/south. Someone, Bethany maybe, brings out this picture frame which has photos that were found in the house of a woman in her underwear wearing a feather headdress and arrows and in one of the photos here breast is exposed. They look like they were from the 50's most likely. This apparently has no explanation. The first part of the history is about a family. The husband was a postman and the wife joined a Pentecostal church that partook in the snake handling business. The husband wasn't happy about this and apparently went kinda nuts. He sat with a bible one night reading and ripping out pages then throwing them in the fire and saying "Lies, all lies." The wife and child hid upstairs in what's now the "children's room" while the husband went out to the barn and killed the dog and then himself.
Next was the college professor and her husband. He went crazy and ripped out all the electrical wiring in the house for some reason and the women kicked him out. She stayed in the house but decided to neglect all the animals, cows, chickens, rabbits. Many of the animals were found dead in their pens. There is mention of them having a "destructive relationship" and how the "isolation" of the farm exasperated the problems they already had as a couple and as individuals.
Finally there was the bricklayer and the landscaper, the couple Bill and Tom bought the house from. They were having trouble finding work and then they were both injured in a motorcycle accident and wanted to get rid of the house. There is definite insinuation that the house had something to do with their bad luck.
So Bill and Tom had every religion they could think of come in and perform cleansing rituals on the house and everything seems fine.
I found myself sitting on the porch writing by myself when Tom came up and sat down and continued the previous conversation that had occurred about modesty. Allen, Eric, Bethany and I were not entirely comfortable with the idea of the outdoor, out in the open "solar shower" and Tom had to get to the bottom of this. "Culturally, where did you get this modesty from?" he wants to know from all of us. Well, we're all sorta fat, is our main answer. Not good enough. But at this point when it's just Tom and me I start trying to explain which ends up with me talking about my parents and the general idea that you had to hide everything growing up in that household. "But why?" Tom keeps asking me. "I don't know," I keep telling him and that that was what I was questioning the whole of my teenage years. That doesn't mean I'm going to be comfortable running around naked just because you're okay with it. And we talked about being who you are and actually living life and I said that's where I want to get to. I want to reach that point and hopefully sometime soon. And I was getting all teary eyed and embarrassed but didn't let myself tell him that like I normally end up doing. Apologizing for feeling and being emotional. I'm not sure if I was making Tom uncomfortable (I doubt it) or if he was trying to spare me, being aware that I was already uncomfortable but our conversation ended shortly after this.
Bill showed up around 7:30pm. No shirt, of course, just a pair of shorts. He had a dog, "Blondie," a golden retriever, and an old jeep cherokee, a mowhawk of sorts on the back of his head and a septum piercing. Bill (or "Bear" as he introduced himself to me and Allen) is actually 3/4 Mowhawk. So he often has a mowhawk, drives a cherokee and likes to drink Firewater. I find all of these things amusingly ironic. I don't know that that's the case for Bill. He told me he hadn't slept in two days and I said, "why not?" "Thinking about what I have to do tomorrow," he responded. Oh. The dreams and visions were disturbing his sleep.
Then Tom showers. Naked and shorn. And of course we all look.
We sat around and made a fire around 9:30pm and went to bed a little after midnight. Allen and I slept in our tent beside the house. The next day we left about noon. Neither of us were feeling 100% sure about our comfort levels regarding the actual "ceremony" that was going to occur that night. Bill dons his ceremonial loin cloth early in the day. Goes to work in the garden.
As we were leaving Tom says to me something like, "you'll get your assistantship. You'll start school in the fall. I had a dream about it." Whether this was just polite bullshit or if he really did have a dream about it after knowing me for less than 24 hours I don't know. Is he just a super nice (if know-it-all) older man offering encouragement? Either way I hope he's right.
A few hours later I felt let down in myself for not staying but I do see myself returning to the farm. I think I can handle the ridiculous mysticism/spirituality but can I tolerate the bugs?
This is Not Interesting
May 26, 2008
8:33PM: About 45 minutes ago Allen asked if i would care if he peed in the grill. I said no. So he peed in the grill. It smelled bad. Now he's cleaning it out. Now he's throwing lit matches into it after dowsing it with lighter fluid. Brilliant.
Going back...
Thursday. Not the beginning of feeling crazy but a good starting point. After work went to Sharp Edge for happy hour. Met by Hedges. Also the day we found out our friend is beginning round 3 with cancer. So the whole day was kinda weird. Anyway. The waitress at Sharp Edge sucked. Then we had agreed to go to Jeremy's (Hedges) place. His lady friend has an art space and they live above. Every Thursday they have an improv group perform and it was our time to check it out. So of course I was in a panic. My anxiety has been intense lately so I made my way upstairs initially and Allen mentioned to Jeremy that I was freaking out. Then I was given a beer and sat downstairs on a couch. It turned out okay. Allen always asks what I'm afraid of when I freak out and honestly I don't know, I just get panicked. (The improv group does not know who Admiral Akbar is.) Then one of the improv dudes, the one who asked me abruptly at half time if I was having a good time, asked if we wanted to go to a bar afterward for more drinks. We came home because we were tired and Friday, 11:30AM, was our bankruptcy hearing.
We left early enough but downtown Pittsburgh is a nightmare and we couldn't figure out where to park. We made it to room 750, Liberty Place at 11:33AM. Warner, our diminutive bankruptcy lawyer, was waiting for us. Like he said, it took about 5 minutes, after 45 minutes of listening to other people's hearings.
Friday I got stir crazy and eventually ended up cleaning the bathroom, tub excluded. Our bathtub is impossible to get really clean so I just ignore it. It doesn't look or feel gross, apart from being gray in color, so it's okay.
Saturday. A bad day. I was shitty panicky all day. I remember going to Target and later laying on the floor listening to Mates of State then asking Allen to drive me to the store so I could get some Spaghetti-o's. No, wait. Target was Friday, Saturday was the baby shower for Allen's DM and his wife. That was actually somewhat pleasant despite how I feel about human reproduction. There was free beer.
Sunday I was determined to not be shitty. Slept on the couch all night with minimal discomfort. Very unusual. Woke up, Allen had already gone to the store. Pancakes were in store. Ate, then cleaned up outside a bit. Still no lawnmower. Showered. Went to Lowe's. BBQ Grill! YES! Whole Foods. Stuff to grill! Spent mucho time outside. Good times.
8:33PM: About 45 minutes ago Allen asked if i would care if he peed in the grill. I said no. So he peed in the grill. It smelled bad. Now he's cleaning it out. Now he's throwing lit matches into it after dowsing it with lighter fluid. Brilliant.
Going back...
Thursday. Not the beginning of feeling crazy but a good starting point. After work went to Sharp Edge for happy hour. Met by Hedges. Also the day we found out our friend is beginning round 3 with cancer. So the whole day was kinda weird. Anyway. The waitress at Sharp Edge sucked. Then we had agreed to go to Jeremy's (Hedges) place. His lady friend has an art space and they live above. Every Thursday they have an improv group perform and it was our time to check it out. So of course I was in a panic. My anxiety has been intense lately so I made my way upstairs initially and Allen mentioned to Jeremy that I was freaking out. Then I was given a beer and sat downstairs on a couch. It turned out okay. Allen always asks what I'm afraid of when I freak out and honestly I don't know, I just get panicked. (The improv group does not know who Admiral Akbar is.) Then one of the improv dudes, the one who asked me abruptly at half time if I was having a good time, asked if we wanted to go to a bar afterward for more drinks. We came home because we were tired and Friday, 11:30AM, was our bankruptcy hearing.
We left early enough but downtown Pittsburgh is a nightmare and we couldn't figure out where to park. We made it to room 750, Liberty Place at 11:33AM. Warner, our diminutive bankruptcy lawyer, was waiting for us. Like he said, it took about 5 minutes, after 45 minutes of listening to other people's hearings.
Friday I got stir crazy and eventually ended up cleaning the bathroom, tub excluded. Our bathtub is impossible to get really clean so I just ignore it. It doesn't look or feel gross, apart from being gray in color, so it's okay.
Saturday. A bad day. I was shitty panicky all day. I remember going to Target and later laying on the floor listening to Mates of State then asking Allen to drive me to the store so I could get some Spaghetti-o's. No, wait. Target was Friday, Saturday was the baby shower for Allen's DM and his wife. That was actually somewhat pleasant despite how I feel about human reproduction. There was free beer.
Sunday I was determined to not be shitty. Slept on the couch all night with minimal discomfort. Very unusual. Woke up, Allen had already gone to the store. Pancakes were in store. Ate, then cleaned up outside a bit. Still no lawnmower. Showered. Went to Lowe's. BBQ Grill! YES! Whole Foods. Stuff to grill! Spent mucho time outside. Good times.
Comments
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- charissa starr if the cancer friend you refer to is rick, its round 5.
sucks.
- Reply
Not really blog, just quote:
May 18, 2008
"I am not, as you will have observed, a man greatly enamored of his fellow human beings. I do not enter lightly into the foibles and whimsicalities of others, I do not suffer fools gladly, I seem able, in conversation, only to needle or be needled. My relationships, as a result, are few, and those few are tenuous, prickly sorts of arrangements, altogether lacking in the spontaneity and intimacy for which humans, I'm told, have an instinctive need. I am aware of no such instincts myself. "
— Patrick McGrath from the book Grotesque
"I am not, as you will have observed, a man greatly enamored of his fellow human beings. I do not enter lightly into the foibles and whimsicalities of others, I do not suffer fools gladly, I seem able, in conversation, only to needle or be needled. My relationships, as a result, are few, and those few are tenuous, prickly sorts of arrangements, altogether lacking in the spontaneity and intimacy for which humans, I'm told, have an instinctive need. I am aware of no such instincts myself. "
— Patrick McGrath from the book Grotesque
Post a comment...
- Beau Brendt I must steal this! I don't know why, but I feel compelled!
- Reply
More Transcripts, Please and the Day They Left
May 16, 2008
Current mood:
sleepy
And it's Friday once again. I'm at work, bored with working.
*click click click click look up student process request print repeat*
Smile politely at someone personifying a rubber band in front of my
desk. Eat yogurt. Rub ragged cuticles on my lips cos I like the way it
feels. Think about making the phone calls I need to make but don't
make them. Think about going out for a smoke but feel too lazy. Think
about walking over to Craig to drop off my time sheet. Blah. Still
have a lot of work to do with Tricia's piles of paper. Say this last
name and tell me it doesn't sound like dirty lady parts: Vajanapoom.sleepyI never wrote about the day the neighbors were finally made to leave. Cindy hit the young slapper. The young slapper, realizing she couldn't actually take Cindy in a fight then threatened her daughter who appeared to be about 13 and stick skinny. John called the police as did Joe, aka "Taco Bell." Cops came and stupidly, the first thing Slapper blurts out is "we're being evicted." Cop says, "then perhaps you should leave." Then the ice cream man came and Slapper and Taco Bell bought frozen treats and waited down the street for their ride to come and take them and their two garbage bags of belongings away.
I've grown tired of this. Cheers.
Sunday, dirty version
May 4, 2008
Been feeling bummed for no discernible reason. Ugh! That's so not true. Work, school, PGH, money, computer, and now needing to find a car again. Angry about being told I shouldn't be myself and that it's important to make other people happy. That you shouldn't tell the truth because of how it affects others. The same damn line I've been fighting against all my life. Then I'm told it's because of my mood disorder. "People don't understand it." I don't fucking understand it either. Don't understand why I should have to explain myself when I state an opinion. Or apologize. The Nick Cave song "People Ain't No Good" has been going through my head all weekend.
"What if I said you can't complain and you can't be quiet?" Allen asked me this morning. "I'd go off into the woods," I replied.
Humans are just more trouble than they're worth. Sure, nobody's perfect but way too many people are so far from it it's disturbing and disappointing. Everyone's only looking out for themselves, their best interests, but they won't admit it.
Yet somehow it's necessary to continue interacting with people. One of the things most hateful to me is needing other people. The desire to reject people is overwhelming in me. The desire to tell someone to shut the fuck up without there being repercussions is so strong.
This (going back to previous paragraph) was one of my biggest problems with therapy. Opening up to someone who is seeing you just because they are being paid to. Not because they care.
Yeah, maybe my brain's been hating on me lately. I feel responsible for this whole Pittsburgh thing. Floundering around wondering what the fuck I'm doing here. Yeah, I don't know why we're constantly defeating ourselves. We could've been in and out and moving on with MY life. I feel like I'm being depended on to make something worth while happen. Could've been 2 years max. Now I'm looking at 3 -5, like a prison sentence. Yeah, where are the people like us?
You really think I think these things because I'm depressed?! Jesus, what if I did? What if I was some insipid, fake-ass bitch if I had never been dealt what I have? Oh my god. What if I wasn't good at making fun of people?
But I'm still a coward. From cower. Fighting against myself. I get so angry. Murderously so. Like wanting to beat someone to death angry. And it doesn't have to be someone I know.
I read Darkness Visible by Wm. Styron last night. It's the short memoir he wrote about depression. I found it to be much better than I had been led to believe by the reviews on goodreads. He talks mostly about the inability of people who have never been in the grips of a really good melancholy to understand how absolutely black it is. He mentioned how it would feel like he was drowning or suffocating, which is how it's always been for me and this is reflected in the tattoo I have on my arm. He also talks about how difficult it is to try to explain what it feels like. Unless you've been there you have no idea what it's like. What it's like to physically hurt yourself just to feel something. What it feels like to be absolutely convinced that the only way out is to kill yourself. To feel like you're constantly drowning but not dying. To be without hope. To be so tired, so exhausted, and then not be able to sleep because of the storm raging inside your head. To be in a fog, a stupor, but still find it necessary, no, imperative, to continue your daily life as if nothing were wrong. To lose your memory. To not have any memory of the things people tell you you did. To not care one way or the other if you see another person for days, whether you eat or you don't. To care about what you eat.
*see quote, separate post*
But I'm totally off topic. God damn it! Admitting that he was right again? Isn't that what's happening here? Son of a bitch. Yeah, I'm always depressed. Always. I've accepted it. Have you?
Been feeling bummed for no discernible reason. Ugh! That's so not true. Work, school, PGH, money, computer, and now needing to find a car again. Angry about being told I shouldn't be myself and that it's important to make other people happy. That you shouldn't tell the truth because of how it affects others. The same damn line I've been fighting against all my life. Then I'm told it's because of my mood disorder. "People don't understand it." I don't fucking understand it either. Don't understand why I should have to explain myself when I state an opinion. Or apologize. The Nick Cave song "People Ain't No Good" has been going through my head all weekend.
"What if I said you can't complain and you can't be quiet?" Allen asked me this morning. "I'd go off into the woods," I replied.
Humans are just more trouble than they're worth. Sure, nobody's perfect but way too many people are so far from it it's disturbing and disappointing. Everyone's only looking out for themselves, their best interests, but they won't admit it.
Yet somehow it's necessary to continue interacting with people. One of the things most hateful to me is needing other people. The desire to reject people is overwhelming in me. The desire to tell someone to shut the fuck up without there being repercussions is so strong.
This (going back to previous paragraph) was one of my biggest problems with therapy. Opening up to someone who is seeing you just because they are being paid to. Not because they care.
Yeah, maybe my brain's been hating on me lately. I feel responsible for this whole Pittsburgh thing. Floundering around wondering what the fuck I'm doing here. Yeah, I don't know why we're constantly defeating ourselves. We could've been in and out and moving on with MY life. I feel like I'm being depended on to make something worth while happen. Could've been 2 years max. Now I'm looking at 3 -5, like a prison sentence. Yeah, where are the people like us?
You really think I think these things because I'm depressed?! Jesus, what if I did? What if I was some insipid, fake-ass bitch if I had never been dealt what I have? Oh my god. What if I wasn't good at making fun of people?
But I'm still a coward. From cower. Fighting against myself. I get so angry. Murderously so. Like wanting to beat someone to death angry. And it doesn't have to be someone I know.
I read Darkness Visible by Wm. Styron last night. It's the short memoir he wrote about depression. I found it to be much better than I had been led to believe by the reviews on goodreads. He talks mostly about the inability of people who have never been in the grips of a really good melancholy to understand how absolutely black it is. He mentioned how it would feel like he was drowning or suffocating, which is how it's always been for me and this is reflected in the tattoo I have on my arm. He also talks about how difficult it is to try to explain what it feels like. Unless you've been there you have no idea what it's like. What it's like to physically hurt yourself just to feel something. What it feels like to be absolutely convinced that the only way out is to kill yourself. To feel like you're constantly drowning but not dying. To be without hope. To be so tired, so exhausted, and then not be able to sleep because of the storm raging inside your head. To be in a fog, a stupor, but still find it necessary, no, imperative, to continue your daily life as if nothing were wrong. To lose your memory. To not have any memory of the things people tell you you did. To not care one way or the other if you see another person for days, whether you eat or you don't. To care about what you eat.
*see quote, separate post*
But I'm totally off topic. God damn it! Admitting that he was right again? Isn't that what's happening here? Son of a bitch. Yeah, I'm always depressed. Always. I've accepted it. Have you?
From Darkness Visible by Wm. Styron
May 4, 2008
"It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul. So the decision-making of daily life involves not, as in normal affairs, shifting from one annoying situation to another less annoying - or from discomfort to relative comfort, or from boredom to activity - but moving from pain to pain. One does not abandon, even briefly, one's bed of nails, but is attached to it wherever one goes. And this results in a striking experience - which I have called, borrowing military terminology, the situation of the walking wounded. For in virtually any other serious sickness, a patient who felt similar devastation would be lying flat in bed, possibly sedated and hooked up to the tubes and wires of life-support systems, but at the very least in a posture of repose and in an isolated setting. His invalidism would be necessary, unquestioned and honorably attained. However, the sufferer from depression has no such option and therefore finds himself, like a walking casualty of war, thrust into the most intolerable social and family situations. There he must, despite the anguish devouring his brain, present a face approximating the one that is associated with ordinary events and companionship. He must try to utter small talk, and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod and frown and, God help him, even smile. But it is a fierce trial attempting to speak a few simple words."
"It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul. So the decision-making of daily life involves not, as in normal affairs, shifting from one annoying situation to another less annoying - or from discomfort to relative comfort, or from boredom to activity - but moving from pain to pain. One does not abandon, even briefly, one's bed of nails, but is attached to it wherever one goes. And this results in a striking experience - which I have called, borrowing military terminology, the situation of the walking wounded. For in virtually any other serious sickness, a patient who felt similar devastation would be lying flat in bed, possibly sedated and hooked up to the tubes and wires of life-support systems, but at the very least in a posture of repose and in an isolated setting. His invalidism would be necessary, unquestioned and honorably attained. However, the sufferer from depression has no such option and therefore finds himself, like a walking casualty of war, thrust into the most intolerable social and family situations. There he must, despite the anguish devouring his brain, present a face approximating the one that is associated with ordinary events and companionship. He must try to utter small talk, and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod and frown and, God help him, even smile. But it is a fierce trial attempting to speak a few simple words."
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- Beau Brendt How apropos. It's my life in pretty words. Well, it used to be back when I put on a face. Regardless, I am curious as to where this quote originated since you did not cite.
- Reply
Sunday, clean version
May 4, 2008
Current mood:
annoyed
Exercised so I'm feeling better. Been feeling real tired and weak
for the majority of the weekend. Had a good time Friday night. Went
to MoFo and hung out after drinks at Sharp Edge. Allen and I both drank
too much. He got involved in a 2 hour convo with some Canadians. Then
there was almost a knife fight involving 3 bike punks and a drunken old
man who kept saying he always came out to Blurg Fridays and never had
any problems before. Saturday I slept off and on until about 3pm. Went
to late lunch/early dinner with Jim and Becky and came home and laid
around some more. Asleep by 11:30pm. Today, grocery shopping and alone
time!annoyedBeen feeling bummed for no discernible reason. Ugh! That's so not true. Work, school, PGH, money, computer, and now needing to find a car again...
"What if I said you can't complain and you can't be quiet?" Allen asked me this morning. "I'd go off into the woods," I replied.
I read Darkness Visible by Wm. Styron last night. It's the short memoir he wrote about depression. I found it to be much better than I had been led to believe by the reviews on goodreads. He talks mostly about the inability of people who have never been in the grips of a really good melancholy to understand how absolutely black it is. He mentioned how it would feel like he was drowning or suffocating, which is how it's always been for me and this is reflected in the tattoo I have on my arm. He also talks about how difficult it is to try to explain what it feels like. Unless you've been there you have no idea what it's like. What it's like to physically hurt yourself just to feel something. What it feels like to be absolutely convinced that the only way out is to kill yourself. To feel like you're constantly drowning but not dying. To be without hope. To be so tired, so exhausted, and then not be able to sleep because of the storm raging inside your head. To be in a fog, a stupor, but still find it necessary, no, imperative, to continue your daily life as if nothing were wrong. To lose your memory. To not have any memory of the things people tell you you did. To not care one way or the other if you see another person for days, whether you eat or you don't. To care about what you eat.
*see quote, separate post*
God damn it! Admitting that he was right again? Isn't that what's happening here? Son of a bitch. Yeah, I'm always depressed. Always. I've accepted it. Have you?
State of Affairs. Warning: May Offend
April 27, 2008
With impunity. This is how I kill ants. Spiders, not so much. Spiders are more important.
I haven't been worried enough lately. How's that? I feel like I haven't been worrying enough. What the fuck? I've felt too free. Seriously, how fucked up is that? Perhaps I am expressing it somehow. I'm sure Allen has noticed.
(Crazy downstairs neighbor Joe is on the sidewalk crying. "I love you," he says. Then, "go away" or was it "wait"? the new girlfriend yells. Then she turns and walks back to the house. Just before this, when they came out she said to him, "I thought I could be alone.")
Worry. It's my occupation. Also "quiet." I've been excessively quiet recently. A trait I have that causes uncertainty and worry in others. I simply haven't had much to say. Allen and I are together nearly 24 hours every single day. What could I possibly have to say about that? I've been inside my head. Thinking about that damn story, wondering if I should let someone read it, worrying about my lack of ideas.
Dinner with Chris and Jessica last Saturday. They both admit to having multiple ideas for stories but no follow through. I admit that I have had one idea and can't see past it. Just continue to expand, not even, continue to reread and make red marks on a goofy-ass story about a rich girl and a movie star. I try to put it in perspective but still, I feel ashamed. I guess it's because I'm smarter than the story. But so what? Why have I always viewed my intelligence as a curse? That's nonsense.
In other news, I've been eating better and feeling better but then my fingernails started peeling and I'm thrown into a panic about what's wrong with me. I suspect I haven't been eating enough but I don't know that that is true. My distinct lack of motion does not require much fuel. However, I have been thinking about running again. "I've always wanted to be a runner," I said out loud to Allen in the car yesterday. He told me I have a runner's body. I'm not sure what he meant by that but it was certainly complementary. Maybe next year.
I've been thinking about body image a lot this past week. A friend of mine is, I think, much more outwardly obsessed with this issue than I could ever hope to be. Despite everything people think about me I do often subscribe to an "it is what it is" mentality. For example, this friend and his hair. I've been cutting my own hair for years with mixed results, but it usually just always looks the same. It is what it is. He, however, seems seriously disturbed about his. If vanity would allow it I would love to shave it all off. But I won't because, listen to this, because I don't have a good wig. Anyway. And I'm 31 years old. My friend, who is almost the same age, continues to do curious things like dye his hair unnatural colours (blue?) and force it into unnatural shapes. I can't fathom it. Let it go. It's just hair. But hair is so important. It's a very noticeable thing. It affects your face and your idea of yourself. So it's really not just hair, it's identity. So I get it but I don't. Like body image. I think I'm not as big as I am. Always I think "I'm not that big," but I don't think it's true. Sure, people always think I weigh less than I do but I'm big. A big girl. And who wants to be the big girl? Who wants to be uncomfortable and worry about her multiple stomachs being on display for the world? Not me. Yet here they are. There's only so much disguising you can accomplish, the truth will shine, or blub, through. And what disturbs me is that people are okay with that. When I feel like I should be shunned and poked at. Yet I still get an I love you. So I snort in reply. Who could love a fat girl? Not me. Ah, honesty, how I love thee. I don't like fat people, okay? There, the truth is out. It's awkward. Not fitting in a booth is awkward. Yeah, it's natural for some people. Some people are naturally skinny, some fat. Yeah. But if things weren't so easy. If it were back in the day and we had a reason, an actual need, to be more active...what then? If society were once more agrarian would I be a blob [...]? Maybe, but probably not. No, I'd probably be popping out shit-eating spawn to continue a shit-eating legacy of anger and frustration.
I just realized that I probably sound like a crazy person. Then I thought about how Charles Manson wrote some decent music. And then I'm torn about what a woman can do, especially after watching a friends' football match today. He's on a pub team. Over 30's. No women allowed. And I know I would have mad skills if I ever bothered to develop them. And I'd be a sick striker. (So says me.) There are so many things I know I could be but I don't even think about trying. I mean these guys don't even move. And I know I can be off-putting at times because I know what's possible and if I really get into it I know I can be better than almost anyone. I have this weird competitive streak that sometimes frightens me because I know I'm stronger than most of you. It's like I know it but I also know I'm not supposed to be that way in our society so I sit back and watch things happen in disgust. Where does that come from?
(Also, the guy driving the lawn mower and golf cart today while drinking beer was telling his friends about how last night he and his wife were both really drunk. He ended up falling asleep in the car until 4:30am but his wife apparently was inside the house frying chicken at 2:30am. She ended up falling asleep while the chicken was still on the stove, setting off the the fire detectors and waking the children who had to rouse her from her drunken stupor. Ha Ha.)
Also, "God don't make no trash. Therefore there is no God." -Allen Marshall Hitchens, III
With impunity. This is how I kill ants. Spiders, not so much. Spiders are more important.
I haven't been worried enough lately. How's that? I feel like I haven't been worrying enough. What the fuck? I've felt too free. Seriously, how fucked up is that? Perhaps I am expressing it somehow. I'm sure Allen has noticed.
(Crazy downstairs neighbor Joe is on the sidewalk crying. "I love you," he says. Then, "go away" or was it "wait"? the new girlfriend yells. Then she turns and walks back to the house. Just before this, when they came out she said to him, "I thought I could be alone.")
Worry. It's my occupation. Also "quiet." I've been excessively quiet recently. A trait I have that causes uncertainty and worry in others. I simply haven't had much to say. Allen and I are together nearly 24 hours every single day. What could I possibly have to say about that? I've been inside my head. Thinking about that damn story, wondering if I should let someone read it, worrying about my lack of ideas.
Dinner with Chris and Jessica last Saturday. They both admit to having multiple ideas for stories but no follow through. I admit that I have had one idea and can't see past it. Just continue to expand, not even, continue to reread and make red marks on a goofy-ass story about a rich girl and a movie star. I try to put it in perspective but still, I feel ashamed. I guess it's because I'm smarter than the story. But so what? Why have I always viewed my intelligence as a curse? That's nonsense.
In other news, I've been eating better and feeling better but then my fingernails started peeling and I'm thrown into a panic about what's wrong with me. I suspect I haven't been eating enough but I don't know that that is true. My distinct lack of motion does not require much fuel. However, I have been thinking about running again. "I've always wanted to be a runner," I said out loud to Allen in the car yesterday. He told me I have a runner's body. I'm not sure what he meant by that but it was certainly complementary. Maybe next year.
I've been thinking about body image a lot this past week. A friend of mine is, I think, much more outwardly obsessed with this issue than I could ever hope to be. Despite everything people think about me I do often subscribe to an "it is what it is" mentality. For example, this friend and his hair. I've been cutting my own hair for years with mixed results, but it usually just always looks the same. It is what it is. He, however, seems seriously disturbed about his. If vanity would allow it I would love to shave it all off. But I won't because, listen to this, because I don't have a good wig. Anyway. And I'm 31 years old. My friend, who is almost the same age, continues to do curious things like dye his hair unnatural colours (blue?) and force it into unnatural shapes. I can't fathom it. Let it go. It's just hair. But hair is so important. It's a very noticeable thing. It affects your face and your idea of yourself. So it's really not just hair, it's identity. So I get it but I don't. Like body image. I think I'm not as big as I am. Always I think "I'm not that big," but I don't think it's true. Sure, people always think I weigh less than I do but I'm big. A big girl. And who wants to be the big girl? Who wants to be uncomfortable and worry about her multiple stomachs being on display for the world? Not me. Yet here they are. There's only so much disguising you can accomplish, the truth will shine, or blub, through. And what disturbs me is that people are okay with that. When I feel like I should be shunned and poked at. Yet I still get an I love you. So I snort in reply. Who could love a fat girl? Not me. Ah, honesty, how I love thee. I don't like fat people, okay? There, the truth is out. It's awkward. Not fitting in a booth is awkward. Yeah, it's natural for some people. Some people are naturally skinny, some fat. Yeah. But if things weren't so easy. If it were back in the day and we had a reason, an actual need, to be more active...what then? If society were once more agrarian would I be a blob [...]? Maybe, but probably not. No, I'd probably be popping out shit-eating spawn to continue a shit-eating legacy of anger and frustration.
I just realized that I probably sound like a crazy person. Then I thought about how Charles Manson wrote some decent music. And then I'm torn about what a woman can do, especially after watching a friends' football match today. He's on a pub team. Over 30's. No women allowed. And I know I would have mad skills if I ever bothered to develop them. And I'd be a sick striker. (So says me.) There are so many things I know I could be but I don't even think about trying. I mean these guys don't even move. And I know I can be off-putting at times because I know what's possible and if I really get into it I know I can be better than almost anyone. I have this weird competitive streak that sometimes frightens me because I know I'm stronger than most of you. It's like I know it but I also know I'm not supposed to be that way in our society so I sit back and watch things happen in disgust. Where does that come from?
(Also, the guy driving the lawn mower and golf cart today while drinking beer was telling his friends about how last night he and his wife were both really drunk. He ended up falling asleep in the car until 4:30am but his wife apparently was inside the house frying chicken at 2:30am. She ended up falling asleep while the chicken was still on the stove, setting off the the fire detectors and waking the children who had to rouse her from her drunken stupor. Ha Ha.)
Also, "God don't make no trash. Therefore there is no God." -Allen Marshall Hitchens, III
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- Ållën Best Blog Yet!
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- Beau Brendt I know someone like that friend you mentioned. He's just never satisfied and doesn't know what he looks like on the inside, hence the outside is also in constant flux.
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- Bethany Meisberger You don't like fat people? Then why are there 3 fat people in your top friends? "Warning: May Offend"
Well it did, so nicely done.
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'Now I have to be quiet and non-offensive when I can; I secretly think it's some kind of white trash backlash going on inside of me. Yet when surrounded by people like the ones I grew up with I end up feeling as disgusted as I do when around the middle class suburban folks.'
. . . Yes. That's it exactly, isn't it?
Does Allen need a kidney? He can have mine.
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1 year agoWHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? How freaking long can you stay in Amsterdam?!? I think yer still there and you always call when I'm not near my phone... Can you use yer cell phone overseas now? Has the world advanced? Did you get my text messages? WHERE ARE YOU?!?! Remember Jonny McGovern (Soccer Practice)? Take this as a compliment: The Gay Pimpin' podcast reminds me a lot of you. You should listen to it, I think you'd find it funny even while you'd b
Since I do not even know where to begin, I won't. I at least listened.
Wish there was more that I could contribute, but over the past 20 years or so, we never really communicated, did we?
It would be nice to actually get to know you some time so we could actually relate and not just by sharing sordid tales of our lives.
I'm always around, but that doesn't really amount to much, now does it. lol.
Umm, silver lining, best of luck, turn of events, and all that jazz.
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1 year ago