| 01:55pm 12/09/2003 | |||
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thank you, thank you ladies and gentlemen. and now, for my next trick, i will attempt to actually answer all the comments people leave in my journal. well, i will attempt to do so when i *don't* have to go to work. which should be sometime on sunday. :) until then, thank you guys. i have been writing something about restaurants. a little server manifesto of sorts. it's a little too bitter for my taste, i think it's time to toss in a bit of satire, lest ye who read it actually think i take this type of stuff with a seriousness akin to death. i will post it on diaryland as soon as i am done... providing that i can actually remember my password over there. lord, i *have* been gone a long time. i have yet to begin to go through my clothes (they are all stuffed into the closet in white trash bags) since the move, because we have yet to put together the drawers and shelf that will house them. so i am stuck rifling through a few of the bags on top and hoping that there is a complete outfit in there somewhere. i am starting my first bartending shift here on saturday. honestly, i am pertrified. i have been working on the floor there for quite some time, but i haven't bartended in about a year. ever since i was at the pearl. saturday nights at this bar... *packed*. merriman's is known for the strongest drinks and the best music. merriman's is also known for being the premiere gay bar around these parts. what if the gay men hate me? the only other woman that bartends there is a lesbian, and i don't think she works the money nights. the bottom line is: being a woman may be a deterrent this time around, so... i'd better come up with some sort of gimmick. flipping bottles or some shit. at least gay men still aprecciate cleavage. not in a sexual way, but... they seem to be fascinated just the same. okay. must go to work. |
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| 05:57pm 10/09/2003 | |||
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well i'm, um, back. didn't go to burningman. had the chance if i had done an extremely last minute sort of haphazard job, but i didn't want to mooch off of anyone.... and since i didn't have every last base covered, i am sure the mooching situation would have reared its ugly head at some point. i miss my friends in california, but i feel so disconnected from my old life there. not that this is a good thing, of course... but a tiny part of me feels like perhaps they have moved on, and while they would be glad to see me, perhaps i would be boring. or something. i guess i just don't want to have to explain my own yearlong stagnance. i have a boyfriend whom i love, i finally have internet access again. but for the most part i don't feel like i have accomplished much of what i moved back east (specifically) to do. in fact, i am not sure *what* the hell i am doing anymore. but now that i have permanent high speed access (and a new living space), i am going to attempt to figure that out. i am starting small... even writing this journal entry was difficult, mostly because it has been so long i just don't know what to say. when i first moved into the real house i wrote little vignettes of my roomates. i may do the same thing here... probably not showing it to them, of course. this place isn't exactly teeming with creative encouragement and/or critiscism as far as writing goes. but still, i will write. so yeah: for all those who don't know... my name is sara, i used to live in a webcam house, write on a daily basis, and go to glamorous, glitter-laden parties where the beautiful intellectuals roamed almost every weekend. now i live at a house in the middle of the country known as 'the ranch' (there are stables and other ranch-like acoutrements positioned about, hence the name), never write, and am still trying to get over the past 10 months where i was, apparently, just trying to stay afloat. this is not a statement of negativity towards the people i surround myself with now; quite the opposite. but it seems as of somewhere along the way i have lost the ability to word things, or even to know which things i consider important enough to put into words. i feel like there are shards of me, facets that some people enjoy seeing, and some people don't. and i have to put together a sort of patchwork windowpane of sorts every time i spend time with a different person.... tailor made to fit what they enjoy about me, and not what makes them uncomfortable, or scorful, or whathaveyou. i have to shake these kind of thoughts, this whole mentality, in fact... and it's annoying, because it was so deeply engrained in me that i had no idea it was even around until burningman started to draw nigh. i guess it will take a while. anyhow. until then... work with me here. :) |
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| 10:23pm 14/08/2003 | |||
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thank you to everyone who responded to my last entry. i don't like not being able to reply, but once again, internet tempus fugit. i have about 10 minutes online, sum total, so here's what i got to say: open letter to divine intervention: please, please, pretty-fucking please- get me to the playa this year. my ride has bowed out, and due to unforseen financial catastrophe(s), my bankroll has unraveled as well. i have: -210 dollars to my name (another 500 coming, hopefully... but this is money i lent out, so i would have to be sublimely stupid to bank on its timely return). -the tenative use of my boyfriend's gas guzzling yet extremely reliable ford explorer. sigh. if only it was a hybrid. -one pair of black fur pants that somehow ended up in my luggage on the plane ride home. they miss black rock, i can tell. every time i go to my closet, they stare at me forlornly from the barren top shelf. they don't get much (any) action in fredericksbug, and i feel an appropriate amount of guilt because of it. this is what i need: -you. please, um, help. --s. :) |
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| 03:12am 16/07/2003 | |||
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it's been a while since i wrote in here. aside from my friends liast, i don't really know if anyone even checks it anymore. i sort of did that on purpose. you know how people spit rhetoric online like it is some big tasty loogie (sp?) that they have been waiting to expel for quite sometime? well, for the longest time i thought i was one of those people. and it gave me the freedom to type whatever i wanted, whenever. then i was confronted with the possibility of hurting other people (you know, the real ones, not just those with a nifty handle or a streaming cam; the ones you see first thing in the morning and right before you go to bed) with the words i choosed to place in my little livejournal rant-box. and then i realized that i was (dissapointingly) an actual *purist*. and idealist. and man, do i hate those... anyhow. what i mean to say is this: once faced with the possibility of being unable (unwilling) to be completely balls-to-the-wall honest in every little facet of my otherwise mudane online existence, i chickened out. i couldn't write about the day-to-day without the unspoken ability to vent about the craziest thoughts running through my head at any given moment. you know, should i so choose. i always talked about how my journal was a place for me to be completly honest with myself. to find the ugly, and the beautiful, and morph it into some sort of patchwork quit of compromise that made up me. well, i can't do that anymore, because in my non-sensical ramblings, i may end up hurting people that are incredibly close to me, outside of this oh-so addictive ether. and i choose not to. so no more day-to-day; it would just be a parody, a veneer (purist youthful bullshit, i tell you... but i can't stop myself :). yeah. um, i wrote this just in case anyone was wondering why i never write anything anymore. and also... i wrote it to try to find a happy medium. one more compromise patch to add to the quilt. cause the truth is.... i miss it. :) |
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| 01:26pm 02/04/2003 | |||
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it's my birthday. hmmm. 26. another hmmm. i've been 'hmm-ing' a lot lately. :) |
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| 03:40pm 21/03/2003 | |||
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so... war, huh? i really just don't want to talk about that. i am attempting to figure out ways to work at it from the humanitarian angle, something concrete. until i figure that out, there's no use in soapboxing it. seriously, it just makes me depressed. still no internet access at my humble abode. working on that. my hotmail box has overflowed more times than i can count in the last month. i need a weeks vacation. i am thinking as soon as i have my rent money for may, i need to purchase a ticket out to san diego. i could really use a recharge. in other news, my birthday is coming up soon (april second- soon enough). buy me things, or send me dollar bills. strip club adventure is nearly nigh. :) |
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| 08:10pm 02/03/2003 | |||
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i'm still here. really. i just have no internet access, and my phone got drenched in some unidentifiable substance that we hope was water. please, don't ask. :) |
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| 07:07pm 14/02/2003 | |||
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quickly, quickly... happy valentine's day, everyone. hope you are all blessed with something other than russell stevens. unless, of course, russell is what you are craving. :) i am moved in. no internet access as of yet, no pictures on the wall, but it is (tenatively) home. my roomate and i have made a pact with each other: one submission a month to a literary magazine/some other freelance endevour. and i am reinstating my old california goal- get rejected. getting published would be ideal, but my minimum goal is rejection. because at least then i will have done something. irritation of the week: i work mostly mornings, and we don't get a rush until noon or so. consequently, i am able to peruse the free-lance star (which, by the way, has nothing 'free-lance' about it) at my lesiure. the word 'said' is so ridiculously overused that it makes me wonder how many of the staff writers actually own a thesaurus. i mean, come on now. i am woefully inadequate in terms of formal education, but it still makes me cringe to read most of the articles not containing the words AP in the byline. i know journalism is intrinsically threadbare due to deadlines and necessary streamlining, but there's a difference between spartan and simplistic. also morbidly enticing: this. there isn't anything truly controversial in there today, but lemme tell ya, there have been some doozies in the past. some guy wrote in earlier this week postulating that america's founding fathers meant for our government to be based (steeped, if you will) in christianity. um, dude, ever heard of deism? and that pretty much all of the founding fathers (except for possibly that sourpuss mr. adams) were of the deist persuasion? then, this guy actually said that christianty was synonymous with liberty. he then (to boster his already concrete theories, i guess) proceeded to give examples of free, happy, well-adjusted continents whose modern day societies were mostly christian. europe, the united states and (wait for it)... south america. yup. a good ol' shining paragon of democracy and liberty (and prosperity), that south america. and also, maybe someone should mention a little thing called the inquisition to this guy. i dunno; it might be relevant. possibly. i guess you can guess the comments he made about iraq and other muslim contries based on the first part of that brilliantly accurate metaphor... again, with the Almighty cringing and hiding his head under his Divine Pillow. Poor God. he could really use some hot chocolate and a good foot massage right now, i'll bet. there's never a need to retire from your personal soapbox, people. never. :) anyhow. i need to lay off the free-lance star's opinion page for a while. interestingly, the letter after the christianity=liberty one was this: 'cheerleading is too a sport, as crowds attest'. yeah. i think that's definitely the caliber of topics my neighbors should be covering, actually. a perfect fit. ew. elitist pig, that's me. but i am at least semi-joking... :) okay. gotta go. friend's birthday tonight, hence the liquor store calls. plus, i gotta get something not generically romantic for the man who allows me romance. it's tradition, or something. :) |
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| in a gadda da riverwoods, baby... | |||
| 07:12pm 08/02/2003 | |||
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originally written on thursday, day that lj was fucking up left and right: mother fucker. i just tried to update my journal, got an error message, and when i hit the back button, my entry was gone. to sum up: - i am moving friday. i haven't packed a single box. shocker. - i have to call the electric and gas companies. this makes me inherently cringe at the miniscule amount of responsibility i must hoist upon myself. 'till now, my paper trail consisted of thousands of bills from every video store in the dc metro area, all demanding my head on a platter or 400 bucks for two videos. and, of course, a conservative estimate of around 60 parking tickets garnered from fredericksburg's finest meter-maids (of which there are two). nazis. what kind of person actively persues a career in that prestigious arena? anyhow. -i had a lovely conversation with a drunk guy (who will heretofore be known as Drunk Guy) at my place of employment monday night, after the open mike. it went something like this: me (sneaking suspicion dawns on me after listening to Drunk Guy ramble about geraldine ferraro and hillary clinton)- you voted for bush, right? Drunk Guy- of course. of course i voted for bush. -ten minutes later- Drunk Guy begins to string words together rather unintelligibly; the crux of this diatribe is something about 'the black people'. occasionally, he refers to them in what is, apparently, intimate terminology- 'the blacks'. i walk away to get some water. Drunk Guy suddenly belts out, as if placing the crowning jewel atop a meticulously contrived and fullproof closing argument: i wish all black people were still slaves! hmm. yeah. you voted for bush? you don't say... yeah, yeah; blanket statement, you got me. but my gushing-blood-liberal-borderline-commie/p okay. gotta go be, um, responsible. or something. still moving. just broke my bank purchasing acoutrements such as dishwashing liquid, trash cans and toilet paper. had 7 dollars left which went to sam's choice ramen and noddles in tomato sauce. canned, of course. i forgot how much excess clutter suddenly becomes indispensable when a person becomes autonomous. the shit suck, ya know? came back to my mom's house to retrieve cat and bags of laundry. will be offline for a while, until i can install the mighty-mighty (gulp) dial up. oh, god. erol's and generic ramen... i am officially slumming. |
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| 09:49pm 28/01/2003 | |||
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*new-KYEW-lur* (as in weapons). goddamn, i wish he would stop saying it that way. why am i watching this? it's like some horrible car crash that i can't tear my fucking eyes away from. every sentence, every firmly declared proclamation... all the stand up/sit down (fight, fight fight!) from the fanatics that are, in their eyes, privileged enough to have front row seats. i keep having flashes of this absurd fantasy wherein i possess condoleeza rice, leap up during one of the rise and clap moments, and start screaming 'jerry, jerry, jerry'! hmmm. don't mean to be so callous. it is the state of the union, after all. which, as we all know, is somewhat (on the bell curve of the Great American Dream) shitty. i guess i shouldn't have turned on the tv right when he was going into the iraq thing. i did catch the tail end of an aids relief for africa proposal that i am actually interested in learning more about. 'god's gift to humanity'. oh-fucking-lord. there goeth god, rolling around in his big chair in the sky... damn those infernal americans and their gee-golly-gosh-let's-shoot-somethin' leader. how many times must i re-itterate: do not take my name in vain!! my boyfriend is looking at me like i have possibly gone mad. most likely this is because i have been saying aloud (more or less) everything i have typed here ever since i turned on the tv. fuck it. no point in ranting (at the moment). time to go play chess. :) |
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| fait accompli (um, again) | ||||
| 01:15am 26/01/2003 | ||||
growing up, i always had ear infections. and they always made me feel sort of insular- not in my own little world, persay, but more acutely aware of being in my own little body. i wonder if that had any sort of effect on my personality as it stands today. god (or whatever handy deity you want to substitute that word for) knows what the hell i am talking about. it is late, and i am sick. i was just sitting here trying to figure out why i haven't written shit as of late, and actually, as of earlier, too. as of in a long fucking time. a blank computer screen is much scarier than it used to be. now i see it as a space that has to be filled, and i guess that is because i am afraid i don't have anything useful or important to fill it with. before i didn't think those things. i didn't think about anything, really... i wrote about it. ah, well. 'sigh', as my mother likes to say. my ears are starting to throb, which means it's time for me to go to bed, before they get so bad that i can't sleep. and anyhow, i have to work tomorrow. i sat down with the intention of writing about the big bad l-word. and my use of it lately, and what it means, and if i am sure i know for sure anyhow. (i know how i feel; i know the word seems appropriate, but really, is that all there is to it? too soon, too confining, etc. damn women, always second-guessing everything.) but like i said, at the moment i feel this disconnect. and that's pretty far from the l-word, so anything i write about it might be, shall we say, innacurate. at least in terms of the long term. ugh. sick. not making shit for sense. sleep now. -- addendum to entry, found as i did my usual horoscope perusal before bed -- Aries Wellness Scope Sat Jan. 25, 2003 by Astrocenter.com When you feel you're at the end of your rope, you tend to disengage from others. This may "work," but it does have a more abrupt side that upsets your health in subtle but serious ways. When you detach from others you detach from yourself. This sends ripple effects throughout your whole body. It tells your stomach its hungry even if it's not, it tells you to sleep instead of stay active, etc. Keeping an eye on yourself is key. odd. cause and effect are all sorts of askew these days. :) okay, really. sleep. |
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| 07:40pm 22/01/2003 | |||
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happiest of completely belated birthdays to the other half of the sara sandwich and one of my best friends. darling, i am so glad you are getting what you deserve, naughty and nice. yaknowwhatimean. :) i love you, dear. the reason it is belated: i have been busy with this for the past 5 days or so, first with my boyfriend, then with me. i can honestly say i have never been that miserable for that long of a span of time. i don't know; perhaps labor will be worse... but that's the only thing i can think of off-hand. there were times when i could actually feel the two walls of my stomach meet, kinda get stuck together for a second or two, and then pull apart. gruesome, i tell you. truly. nothing much else to tell folks. well, that's all the news that's fit to print, anyhow. |
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| sushi/saki/sapporo=good. 3 hours of sleep before work=bad. | ||||
| 03:27am 13/01/2003 | ||||
- got an apartment, which i move into on the 7th of february. - quit this job and accquired this one. yeah, i've been applying there for the past year and a half, so all i can say is: finally. and i am glad; it's a good job with good people. - got a boyfriend, which hasn't happened for a little over two years. i am a bit nervous and skittish, but i suppose that is to be expected. this is the most influential difference out of everything on my little improptu-list, in terms of the day to day. i mean, there isn't a day that goes by that i don't see him. most nights we spend with each other as well. logically, i know i should to take a step back and assess: i have only been dating this guy for a little over a month. we spend almost all of our time together. what in the hell is going on here? but you know, i really don't feel like doing that right now. i am truly enjoying his company (and other attributes :), and i have a hard enough time convincing myself that i am not somehow going to screw this up/me out of a good thing simply because it is a good thing without 'assessing' those types of topics. so i am officially going to let it ride. he is a dj (obviously), and i have to say it is... strange to overhear random girls talking about him when i go to the bathroom at some club, or listen to some guy up at the dj booth talking excitedly about how they got bake to sign his t-shirt. (yeah, my boyfriend signs autographs. too funny. :) also, the hours are murder because of my new morning schedule. i am still awake now because we went to kobe (a during and after-hours sushi restaurant in baltimore that was seriously fucking hip) saturday night. ryan and miah's set was from 2-4, during which they beyond rocked the after-hours; the place was packed. we got home at around 6, went to bed at 8 or so. slept until 3:30 pm... and here i sit. awake, as previously mentioned. dammit. i love to watch him spin, though. he is good, confident, and has fun with it. when someone has an entertaining talent, and it is obvious that they love what they do, it becomes appealing to everyone watching. as an added bonus, did i mention that the man has excellent taste in clothing? it's all in good fun, mom. :) okay. sleep. now. but first, a little bit of funny ha-ha that i shamelessly stole from the sleaze site: come on, now. you know you want it. i'm a giver, after all. |
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| 04:31pm 10/01/2003 | ||||
i really don't have jack shit to say. oh yeah... ask and the universe shall provide: i got an apartment, starting february 7th. which is a good thing, because i am so broke right now my world has been reduced to packs of cigarettes and quarter tanks of gas. training at a new job will do that to ya. also: happiest of birthdays to my oldest fried, alta. she is 26 today; i have known her since i was 11 or so. i know she doesn't read this journal, so i am going to get off my lazy ass, take a shower, and call her. then it's off to work to cut a never-ending array of tomatoes, onions, carrots and the like. i am the worst prep cook known to the history of man. thank god i get to alternate possibly chopping my fingers off with three or four floor shifts a week. |
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| but you're probably gonna say i look lovely, but you probably don't think nothing of me... | ||||
| 03:33am 08/01/2003 | ||||
and i think of how innocent these kids are, how unaware. they don't connect one with the other; they don't really have a reason to think about it. not just 'them'- me, us. everyone here in the good ol' us of a. we have been raised with a collective unconscious sense of goodness, and of non-comprehension that said goodness can be bolstered and fueled by something horrible. central air and coca-cola whenever we want it has precluded any sense of making that connection. i don't know; i can't place blame. it just makes me sad. i mean, what would the price be for a more permanent generational wake-up call? another 911? that's nothing to wish on anyone. anyhow, i wrote this almost poem thing. it needs quite a bit of work (read: not flowing; i suck at revising), but i was never much good at writing poetry. no title as of yet. sheri's jeans are jnco. they slide over her hips, caboosing her pubic bone while she six-steps. she gives her candy away freely. it's the nature of things. sheri's shirt says 'sisters'. sheri says she wants to roll. rockstar baby. funky breaks. there was this one time, in tiajuana, these traficantes con pingas minúsculo... they gave el pequeño their candy execution style to it's head. split it open (funky breaks). gutted it out (rockstar baby). paper mache skin, filled to the brim now sewn shut. pills popping through. when they brought the border bust, el gringo on patrol saw skin in the back(car)seat, taunt pampers sheen; too shiny. too blanco por los familia chicano, ¿sabes? ¿entiendes? no sisters here. no six-step san diego caboose. found: one carcass, 7-months. lost: one mdma carrying case. no se preocupe, querido; there's more where that came from. it's the nature of things. sheri's water bottle is empty. she feels a beat match, black eyes and swollen lips in the club bathroom mirror. she's just nodding bobbing nineteen year old fanfare. freely, freely... she swallows again. after-hours american baby. anthem breaks. feel free to comment or e-mail. or not. :) i want to send this to someone, actually... but i don't think they'd read the e-mail. i wish they would. but wishing don't mean shit, ya know? even if the wishbone breaks the right way. ah well. time to put that aside and read a few chapters of this, en route to passing out. my mother's erstwhile carpenter friend danny is coming early tomorrow, and he always has some horribly inventive and torturous way to wake me up at the butt crack of dawn, all the while chuckling psychotically. bastard. |
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| you know, like the big dipper... sex drugs and rock and roll? it's over. | ||||
| 07:19pm 03/01/2003 | ||||
and while i am on the complaining tip, (me? complain? how very odd...) why didn't anyone e-mail me and tell me that this journal entry was all sorts of screwy and unfinished? i started it and had to leave, so i suppose my mom posted it. ah well. it's all fixed now. i've been wondering lately how many people that read this journal actually know me in real life. seems the ratio is shifting. when i first started, i was just an anonymous poster. things are different now... and i don't know how i feel about that. sometimes i write entries specifically hoping that the subtle references i toss out there will be read and picked up on by a certain person. and then, especially recently, i haven't been able to write the way i want to because i need to be safer than sorrier. even though in theory, i shouldn't worry about how someone might (mis)construe something i write, of course i still do. and what if they don't misconstrue it? what if they are right on the money in their assesment... i mean i am just a petty little garden variety human. sometimes i react emotionally, my feelings get hurt and i respond in anger, or something frustrates me and i end up venting. i can't do that anymore, at least not in this venue. it is ethically unfair. so i keep it all bottled up, which makes sara a seriously conflicted girl. things get to me that i would normally shrug off; i fixate on fleeting moments or a few well-placed words out of someone's mouth. they are fresh in my mind long after their natural expiration date. i guess this has become a sort of crutch for me, and that's why it's so hard to let go. not to say that i have been filtering the truth, or anything like that. everything i have posted lately has been accurate... but that's not to say that it has been what is first and foremost on my mind. and so i feel a bit like a fraud. it is cliched but true: some things are better left unsaid. i have always had that problem... the one where i just don't know when to shut my fucking mouth, sit there, and look cool. i think i even wrote about that in a diaryland entry once. and since i am now somewhat forced to stifle my online ramblings, i suppose this is the proverbial Bright Side of Things. in other news, i officially have a boyfriend. a good one. holy shit, it's been two years since such an oddity has occured; i am slightly freaked out by the concept of commitment altogether. he understands that, he's actually just as freaked as i am (which is comforting). it's funny how much i like the security of him... i never used to enjoy that aspect of relationships. actually, i take that back. i did enjoy security when i had to fight for it, when i wasn't sure it wouldn't just slide out from under me at any given moment. freely given, security used to equal predictability, which in turn equaled boredom (inevitably). in my last few relationships i never knew where i stood. a part of me secretly liked that, but mostly, i just got hurt. and i thought that was the way it was supposed to be. you know, if they hurt you, it means they care. and in very rare circumstances that's true, but even if it is... there are other ways to go about allowing someone access to the way you feel about them. there are better ways. do i sound like i am trying to convince myself of the validity of the the last few sentences? well, maybe i am; just a little. but i'll tell you what: my man, he's got that covered. aces up his sleeve all the way. and the more time i spend with him, the more convinced i become. we are both pretty happy with each other. i miss him when he is not around, and goddamn, that boy can kiss. :) maybe one day this will all fade away, but i am not inclined to think about that right now. in terms of the moments constituting the present, i am inclined to agree with what a friend of his told me recently: my boyfriend is definitely the man for me. ohhh... i was about to upload and go to sleep (after all, it is now four-fucking-seventeen in the morning, and i have to be at work at nine thirty), but i found a once-favorite garbage song. damn you, kazaa. for nostalgic purposes, i am re-printing the lyrics. in california this song was a staple. i haven't thought about it in a while, though. I tried hard to mend my wicked ways Acted like a lunatic for years Lord knows I try to be good I'd keep my promises if only I could You count your blessings that I can't rely on you And I tried... Clutch your pictures of the pope Pray to god for love and hope Bring the virgin home for luck Bolt the door down, keep it shut I've done things I never thought I'd do Sure it helps to lose myself in you A little time and I'll be all right C'mon sugar let's go out tonight Forgive your trespasses And all that we've been through And I tried... Clutch your pictures of the pope Pray to god for love and hope Bring the virgin home for luck Bolt the door down, keep it shut That sinking feeling When you are leaving All I believed in Walks out my door I tried hard to mend my wicked ways The damage's done There's nothing left to save And I tried... Clutch your pictures of the pope ( Just like I told you ) Pray to god for love and hope ( Just like I warned you ) Bring the virgin home for luck ( Just like I told you ) Bolt the door down, keep it shut ( Just like I warned you ) --Garbage, 'Wicked Ways' |
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| yeah, yeah... just another pointlessly cryptic journal entry from yours truly. | |||
| 04:09pm 02/01/2003 | |||
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH really and truly: i have been reduced to onomatopoeias at this point. i have to make the best of it... but i am just going to be pissed off for a little while. capisca? unless you have a place for me to live in the city of fredericksburg for the next few years (i will pay handsomely for such a boon as a room of one's own), don't fuck with me. i am trying, but my options are severely limited. working withim those parameters, i have a favor to ask of the Powers That Be: throw me a fucking bone, will ya? not even that actually. you can dangle the shit over my head, just out of reach, even. i will find a ladder. i will do what i have to do. just please, please... remind me that there are bones to be had. |
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| resolve to implement some fucking resolve (repeat X infinity) | ||||
| 06:27pm 30/12/2002 | ||||
for the record: it doesn't appear that i have kicked my rather frustrating habits altogether. for a good four months after i realized this fact, i spent much of my time being dissapointed in and angry with myself. which is, at best, a sort of pointless plateau. i mean, what the hell kind of view is that anyhow? a not-too-pretty one. one of my main resolutions this year will be to take time (however much time is required) to figure out some realistic goals. i've got to reflect and figure out just what i am doing, so that i can discern what exactly it is that i want to do. let me explain... no, there is too much. let me sum up*: my resolution this year is to make real, honest-to-some-deity resolutions. maybe not even to follow through on them; hopefully, that will occur naturally. i just need to have them. because i am sick of this plateau, that downward spiral, these coulda-shoulda-wouldas, those dreams i keep underfoot*. (can i get an amen for those demonstrative adjectives? :) i am twenty-five years old now. it's about time to withdraw some of my faith out of the bank of circumstance, and invest some in me. speaking (indirectly) of reflection, i noticed something odd today. i have archived livejournal entries for today's date a year ago, and two years ago. i also have a diaryland entry from a year ago today. it's odd to me to see where my head was at, and how different my focus has become on certain matters. i did seduce my old high school crush, for instance; mission accomplished... but it was so satirical it bordered on a farce. i haven't thought about him in ages. but more interesting to me are the constants contained within those entries. all of the diaryland entry is still applicable (i remember it was written in a very loose free-flow form, and then fed through this in varying languages to achieve the odd wording), i still feel a slight tingly twinge when i think of my 'absent muse' from the 2000 entry, though that could be nostalgia as much as anything else. i guess when i saw that i could read my thoughts one the same given day for a few years in both 'serious' and mundane facets, i figured that there might be some logical progression to be found, as far as my mental/intellectual/emotional growth. now i see that that was silly... but it does make for a good read. okay. must stop typing, and head out to the warehouse to help decorate for the syndicate's new year's party. that is if i can find the damn thing. *special thanks to the princess bride and charles de lindt for my merciless plagiarism. **song lyrics to 'misery' found here. they are appropriate in a stupidly cryptic and, of course, ironic way. |
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| 10:37pm 26/12/2002 | ||||
and now seems like a good time to officially mention that i am dating someone. aren't we cute? mom thought so. :) i am not going to write about him in here, except to say that he's my kool-aid (god, that is such an odd phrase.) all of the other sordid details are contained in my Journal That No One Knows About. i learned something today about matching beats... you can't even attepmt that until you figure out how to cue the damn record. jesus, this is going to take a while. oh yeah, and i met bt last night. he came to sleaze with his girl, and was milling about like a normal person. which i guess he is, but he's also, like, bt. it was humorous to watch everyone (including myself) sort of keep tabs on him out of the corner of their eyes. he still looked like he had a good time, though. i told him i'd never really met anyone famous, and it was interesting. he said yes, i am a really famous... plumber. heh. bonne nuit, all. |
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| i cannot believe i still haven't started wrapping presents yet... | ||||
| 06:07am 25/12/2002 | ||||
 for the, um, naughty:  and merriest of merry-s to all. :) i am going here tonight. just thought you all should know. |
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