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Friday, February 18th, 2005
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12:51 pm - "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
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Somethings that maybe have something to do with each other, and maybe not. ...
Over the weekend, many people told me that I am a special/ good/ important/ et cetera person--I think this must stem from telling people about one's suicidal thoughts, and their attempts to show you your life does have meaning. I had to question it, though, I had to question the source, that is, after, during a break-up discussion, Gabe recalled [briefly] the last weekend, saying how it upset him that after two days these people who had just met me would presume to tell him something about me, who had known me for six years. And he went on to mention some things that are not so great about me which they don't see. Now, I'm not sure I understand how well Gabe knows me. From our post break-up conversations, he has said he knows me better than I think, and I am sure that is entirely possible, so maybe it's just me who doesn't understand him as well as I think. That is entirely possible. (Either way it's immaterial to the relationship now, but anyhow.) I guess all it means is that, although we may focus on the positives, people are neither purely good or purely evil, but always some mixture of both. So I guess the point is, I neither need to question my worth nor inflate my ego over it.
Something else a few people said on the weekend was that they could tell I am a rather literary person, a good writer, and it's something that I should pursue. That was nice, and somewhat interesting that it happened, seemingly, an inordinate number of times in such a short span.
I also wanted to talk more about my thoughts from a previous entry: I can think of the little tales and whimsies as I do an essay--more to elucidate my current positions, rather than placing them out there and cementing them as my eternal manifesto, my brilliantly enlightening opus for the whole human race. Hah, how ridiculous that is, anyway! ... I know perfectly well that no one can learn anything from anyone else, but only from one's own experiences. .. Sometimes, the problem with brief, profound moments is that it is hard to then know how to incorporate them into every day life. Although, I suppose this realization has more to do with my life philosophy than my everyday writing [for Playwriting class, for example], but I feel like it should. I need to let go of any judgements about writings, and just write something, even if it's about something "stupid"... just so I will be writing. It's very difficult to let go of the idea of "idea"s, though. -- That's it. Let go. Just let go. ... Wow, there it is again. That deep, little, profound moment. So much in life is taken care of by letting go. Honestly! Maybe not mundane things, like driving, but maybe even that. If you just let go of self, of ego, of worry, of emotion, just let it go, everything comes easier to you! (This makes me think of Marianne, and centering prayer.) The strange little example that comes to my mind is that, somehow, when I am completely relaxed, and I just somehow let go, subconciously, Neal says that's when I feel incredibly tight [although I just feel relaxed--and also incredible]. So, you see, it even applies to making sex better. ;) .. O=) Anyway..
This bounced up against some other things Gabe was saying, about how since I want to be an artist, I won't be able to really impact the world like I imagine. Politicians and business people and maybe the famous have visible impacts on the world. Leaders of political movements. That's funny just because even though I do want my major focus to be writing, I don't imagine that is the only thing I will do with my life. You know, a model or an actress or a diplomat or something; I'll know when I get there, you know? I'm not even thirty yet, let alone fifty or seventy. So many things can happen. But he is right--my art is what will allow me the opportunity to change the world in the big, ego-boosting way I imagine, not what will change the world itself. I'm not even sure that is what I want, or if it's just ego, or if ego is just the avenue that God will take me on to get me where I'm supposed to be.
Joel tried to IM Neal last night [or two nights ago?]. Neal fucked w/ him for a little while, but soon blocked him. Stalker. *shudder*
Anyway, there may be more, but I'm already late for rehearsal. =)
current mood:  thoughtful
current music: =)
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(1 lover |love me)
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| Thursday, February 17th, 2005
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10:17 am - *deep breath*
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Quit fucking scaring me!!
current mood:  not mad, except maybe at AIM
current music: "Tonight and the Rest of My Life"
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(love me)
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9:59 am
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'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up...
current mood:  dejected
current music: Fiona Apple
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(4 lovers |love me)
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1:17 am - relief
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I feel much better about that now.
The problem truly stems not from my feelings, or his, but from Neal and I having crossed wires over AIM that have just happened to come up twice in the past two days about the same thing. Context, boys and girls.
As an aside to that, the prospect of puppies being produced that have cute knees and fae wings really excites me. *bounce!!!*
O=) *giggle*
current mood: relieved
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(5 lovers |love me)
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| Wednesday, February 16th, 2005
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3:38 pm - This would be incredibly funny if only..
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You are the only thing that makes me feel uncertain and as if I may lose the one thing that is important in my life.
It's incredibly fucked up how many problems you are causing me--it's completely weird and inexplicable and I don't even know all the words to describe it. Okay, not you. It's all my fault, but I would say you are a precipitating event.
P.S. And I know it will all be okay--I just need to express my emotions.
current mood:  nervous
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(3 lovers |love me)
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4:08 am - It's Official
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3:09 am - Just because you're psychic, doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING.
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;)
So Emmaus went well. I finished my talk Friday and actually arrived on time to the retreat house, even though I felt I was late because I had told Sandy I would meet her there earlier to help her set things up. I also decided to send the talk to Neal, hoping that perhaps it would encourage him that this retreat would not hurt him, which he was so concerned about.
Sandy organized everything, though, and I felt like I was barely doing anything over the weekend except small little menial things for her. Not that I could really handle more than that, but I felt guilty, anyway. Then, when I did my talk, I felt like it went so poorly. (I will have to revise it the way I want and post it here.) The problem was, although I could feel it as I read it on the screen and I was happy with it, while reading it for everyone there I felt incredibly uncomfortable. The way I write is not the way I talk. Probably the way I write here is closer to it, but not entirely, either. I am much more thoughtful and careful in my word choice and sentence structure and et cetera when I am actually seriously writing a piece rather than just stream of consciousness mind-dumping. And I didn't cry at all or anything. And my jokes weren't that funny. It didn't help that I was almost completely cut off from the candidates and everything, too--I didn't have any gauge for how anyone really, honestly took it.
Ironically, one woman actually talked to me later that evening, and told me that it really helped her better understand her own daughters, who are about my age, and now she feels like she will better be able to empathize with and help them. Sandy was also thanking me again and again for the help I was giving her, even though I felt I was doing nothing. Other girls approached me over the course of the weekend, and finally on the very last day even one of the team members said she wanted to tell me that it really moved her because she was having doubts about being there, too, so me saying that, first thing, that everyone who was there was supposed to be there made her feel so relieved, too.
It also took the whole weekend to accept the weekend for what it was. When I was a candidate, I got to be Mary and just enjoy myself, sitting at the feet of Jesus. But this time, I was Martha. I was rushing around and didn't get to enjoy my own party. I tried to keep giving it up to God, and just letting it go and not getting upset, even though I was a little disappointed. It was very disappointing to me to have to go against my nature and be quiet and shy with people because I wasn't comfortable enough with them to know how to act otherwise, and not just be fun and outgoing. But by the end, I learned that I had received and had been filled up by sacrificing and giving and feeding just as much as I was when I was the one being fed and sacrificed for [previously].
Neal even came to the closing. When I saw him, though, he was looking at me all dreamy with that, "You're so beautiful," look, so it was incredibly embarassing, and since I was standing up in front of everybody, I had to try not to act too embarrassed. He spent a lot of it outside the hall, though, and that made me very concerned. I was so happy he came, though; I just was afraid that he had left or something. I honestly thought he wasn't going to, but I should have realized that when somebody loves you that much, they do everything in their power to do absolutely everything to make you happy. I got to give him my last palanca heart, and I didn't know it until he wrote it in his journal, but that made him really happy, which I didn't realize it would. =) Anyway, so then I wanted to talk to some people, and he very patiently gave me my space, without making a big deal about it and guilting me, and although I somewhat wanted to introduce him to people, I was also exhausted and could tell he was under way too much stress for me to ask that of him, so it just worked out that I just wanted to leave after talking to a few people.
Then we had a nice talk until late into the night, and I think he better understands and accepts my views on spirituality, and trusts me more. It wasn't until after it was over that he could fully realize that God had prepared a place for him on the weekend, but now that he has, I think at least one tiny scar on his heart may be healed. So maybe he'll go on one sometime in the future; but we'll have to see. *shrug* =) He also said that conversation was the best Valentine's gift anyone has ever gotten him. ... Awwwwww.... I was incredibly sad afterwards, in one part of me, though, since it made me disappointed he chose not to, especially since he realized he should have, but I feel more at peace with that now--the weekend went like it was supposed to go. =)
current mood:  sleepy
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(2 lovers |love me)
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| Friday, February 11th, 2005
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12:14 am - Road to Emmaus
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So, this is the thing. I am supposed to go on this religious retreat this weekend, technically it starts later today. I am on team for it. I'm supposed to have written a talk for it. Which I am supposed to give, technically, tonight.
I asked Neal to go on the retreat, and he was gonna go.. Then earlier this week we had a conversation about it, and I was really upset [mostly sad, maybe slightly mad] because he said he wasn't going to go. (That is a huge simplification of the situation--I don't want to go into it.) And then, after that conversation, I started thinking about the huge mountain of stress that is resting on me this week, and I started to feel like maybe I wouldn't be able to make it either, anyway...
I can't do that, though. They're depending on me.
But now that it is midnight, and my talk still isn't done, and I'm sick, and I have class I haven't done homework for, and, and, and.....
And I wasted all this time when I COULD'VE been productive and WILLFULLY CHOSE not to...
*cry* Why do I do this to myself? Why do I choose this? I don't want to. I really don't. What is wrong with me?.. I'm so tired.. so tired of this. I'm choosing the emotionally easy way in the short run, and crushing myself in the long run. Is it excited misery? *sigh* ... );
The wires are all around me now, threads that cut
They are bound around my arms and legs
And I wrapped them all there
Not just around my heart
Everywhere
Cutting and ripping me apart
Pulled and trapped
And somehow
somehow
somehow
I like the pain.
current mood: trapped in my razor spiderweb
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(love me)
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| Thursday, February 10th, 2005
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6:00 pm - I forgot some things..
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Addendum to Valentine's Day rant: I forgot to mention that in addition, red is the traditional color of Valentine's Day. Now, if we were in India or China, that might be kind of sweet because it's considered the color of purity. But, really, red is the color of anger and blood, and death. So a day supposed to be commemorating love, with all kinds of red everywhere, is just bound to make people upset. ... It's science. .. Ah, the ironies of commercial life in America.
I was supposed to see Gabe tonight, but I just decided to wreck my day for some reason, so I didn't do anything all day, but I did pull it together enough to call him to at least tell him I wouldn't be able to see him. So, of course, he calls me to yell at me because he's mad. I don't want to talk to him. Of course--that's why I didn't go there. I almost don't pick up. (The joys of caller id.) But, for some reason, I feel I should. So he chews me out, calling me childish and whatever. Childish because I avoided the situation and selfish because I just thought of myself. ... Gee, I honestly felt REALLY good about that, because if I REALLY wanted to avoid it all, I could've NOT gone, NOT called, and NOT answered the phone at all. At least I didn't SOMETHING. .. Oh well. I basically just let him yell and don't say anything because, honestly, this doesn't make me feel anything except vaguely bored. What can I do? There is no reason for me to yell at him and escalate the situation. I don't have anything to yell at him about. I feel completely fucked and miserable, but I made this decision, and now I have to live with it. So I live with it. Finally he calms down, since I wait patiently for him, and we talk normally for a bit, and he asks if I feel better, but as I think about it now it's really that HE's the one that feels better. That's fine. It's funny, too, because I was SO upset ALL day today, and when Neal came home, what did he do? Did he get upset with me or walk away from me because I was being taciturn? No. He teased me a little. But mostly he just sat with me and waited for me to talk. And it made me feel all better. And then Gabe has to call.. *sigh* I cannot remember anyone, EVER, doing that before. Gabe would ALWAYS get frustrated with me, because I sat for five or ten minutes without talking. I'm sure he will tell you he was infinitely patient with me, and, in ways, he was. But he never, NEVER did that for me. He never understood that I needed that. It's not that I don't know what to say, it's that sometimes, for some reason, the words are burning in my head, and my tongue just refuses to move. My throat and mouth are paralyzed. It's like there's a forcefield there.. and I just can't push them through. (I stole that forcefield idea from somebody else, b/c it was so brilliantly applicable.. anyhow.) .. So I guess it's funny to me that I did that for him, sat with him and didn't turn away, even when I wanted to the whole time--because I didn't think I was capable of that kind of patience, either. Maybe it was the psychic memory of someone just doing that for me.
current mood: depressed
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(1 lover |love me)
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1:06 am - Why do I get the feeling Gabe is trying to manipulate me?
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I said I would only go to Honduras if Christina went--not thinking that she would go.
Then maybe she was.
Then she wasn't... until later, that is.
Gabe seemed ambivalent about going--he didn't really want to go last year. But it was a good experience afterall. Not great; just good. He had the experience, though, and he said it seemed to him as if just sending the money that it would cost to take him down there would be more useful than him actually going. He did genuinely seem to want to go again if it were just cool people, though--like Julia and Jason and us--but Matt is going [the one person everyone would least like to go with on such a trip--but especially Gabe because Matt's Razor Beast Tractor Snore Technique completely destroyed any hope of specifically Gabe, and only Gabe, getting any sleep at all]. But when I told him it was weird because Sr. Faye kinda seemed like she didn't want him to go (not that she didn't, just that she wanted actual students to have first pick), he was somewhat upset by that, if I recall correctly [even though he didn't want to go.. or did he?].
I told Sr. Faye I wasn't going. I assume Gabe knew I wasn't going, although it's possible I didn't tell him that since I don't like to tell him things. I would also assume he knew that I said I would go if Christina were going, but Christina wasn't going. (I don't remember that for sure either, though.) ... (However, even if I didn't tell him, it's entirely possible Sr. Faye mentioned those things in whatever e-mails they exchanged when he decided he would go.. *shrug*)
Then Sr. Faye e-mailed me asking for Gabe's e-mail, so I thought that was odd, but whatever.
Then I receive the list from Sr. Faye stating all the people who are going; Gabe is going.
Then Sr. Faye calls me this evening and tells me she had a conversation with Christina; Gabe convinced Christina she should go, and now Sr. Faye wonders if this would change my decision about going or not.
Am I just being paranoid, or what?
It's entirely possible that it's too late for Sr. Faye to switch plane tickets around anymore, and if so that would make my life so much easier. I don't want to go--I just don't want to say no. But really, I didn't think I used to be this suspicious--is being more aware of those things a good thing, or just delusional? If nothing else, it makes me sadder about the world..
current mood:  sick
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(love me)
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| Wednesday, February 9th, 2005
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3:31 pm - February the Fourteenth
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Recently there has been talk of this day which tends to agitate the masses. It is called.. Valentine's Day.
Now I, for one, have never had any great passion for the day--neither a great love nor a great hate. It rather mystifies me those that do, actually.
Most who love it are reeled in by the disgustingly commercial aspects of it, and surround themselves with pink teddy bears and red roses and heart shaped boxes of chocolates, or at least expect their boyfriends to. If they do not have boyfriends, they are weepy and inconsolate and detest anyone who does. If they are said boyfriend who is actually not a boyfriend at all since he has no matching girlfriend, he is somehow moody but generally pretends it doesn't bother him.
Ironically, it seems that those unmatched boyfriends tend, if they have gone on alone for quite some time, to metamorphosis into those with a deeply passionate hate for the day, although it really is only a warping of their love for it, and really they're just in denial (that's the irony). I could be misinterpretting the situation, though. Since I am neither, I haven't really experienced it from the inside.
But I will say I do think a true lover of Valentine's Day knows not to buy roses, but daisies, and plans picnics on the rooftops with electric blankets instead of attempting to book a reservation at an expensive restaurant with an hour wait; a true lover knows what it's really about. And knows that February 13th, and February 15th, are just as important days in a relationship as the one inbetween them.
Maybe because I'm Catholic and it's just another saint, maybe it's not just another saint because it's a family name, or maybe it's just because I have half a brain and a moderate wisdom score--but anyway, it's nothing to get excited about people.
All February 14th is is the day before all the conversation hearts go on sale. ;)
current mood:  smarter than the world
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(love me)
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| Tuesday, February 8th, 2005
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6:17 pm - Hello, World?
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I'm calling in sick to life today.
An aside: Vocabinimical: Injurious or harmful in effect
This first chapter in lit has been very interesting, actually, and I think useful to me as a writer. I have this strong feeling that I have to know what I want to say when I write, that I have to really have a real purpose or meaning, at least in my fiction or fairy tale attempts; I have to have an answer, and that I can't scribble just any old stab with my present insufficient wisdom and lack of coherent life philosophy--but I am forgetting that not only can I not know, I don't need to. The purpose of life is searching for the philosophy, not obtaining it. When there is resolution, the journey is over. So it is okay.. to say what I have to say.. and if I change my tune, that is okay, too. I can think of the little tales and whimsies as I do an essay--more to elucidate my current positions, rather than placing them out there and cementing them as my eternal manifesto, my brilliantly enlightening opus for the whole human race. Hah, how ridiculous that is, anyway! I see it now as I lay it out there on the page like that, but I could not before, of course! .. I know perfectly well that no one can learn anything from anyone else, but only from one's own experiences, and only those who have learned that they agree with me will ever love, respect, appreciate or understand me, and so therefore my work will be in vain to reach out to those that do not understand, and so I must admit to myself it truly is a goal only for my own fame and ego, because it will never be meaningful to the world. .. That sure lifts a weight from me, to know that it is only for my own desire and happiness and fulfillment, anyway, and then it will never mean anything to anyone else, so I do not have to worry about their love or hatred or use of it. They have no claim on me. ... =) Thank you, World. Your loving indifference is so freeing, regardless of your frighteningness.
Neal arrived home and fell asleep on the carpet. I am trying not to disturb him so that he will be able to rest and relax.
Joel IM'd me today, I blocked him, then told him off, then re-blocked him. I'm glad he caught me at such a perfectly inopportune and stressful time that I could not offer him any patience or care.
current mood: free--at least.. a little bit
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(love me)
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5:34 pm - The Sea Inside
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Something came up during a break-up discussion with Gabe. I can't remember if I wrote my thoughts down about it here or not, but I don't think so.
Somehow we came to an analogy to the movie that Gabe is too lost in his sea inside, feeling his life is destroyed by me leaving him and he has nothing left to live for, to recognize how worthwhile his life is. I was saying I felt sad that he was lost in that sea, but that there really was nothing that I could say or do to help him. I really believe we must save ourselves from that sea. Others can be instruments of salvation perhaps, but... it really is our own perceptions that create, and maintain, the sea. Talking about it like that with him did make the movie seem deeper and more worthwhile, however. Made me more aware of that sea of self, of consciousness or subconsciousness, of depression or just emotion that flows inside our souls, that we swim through every day. It is certainly analogous to my feeling of drowning inside myself.
The other day in mass the priest mentioned that the parish mission there would be about the Year of the Eucharist, and just about the eucharist in general and how important it is to us, and so that got me mulling over thanksgiving. Somehow that lego-snapped into place with the practice of thanking the animal spirits for their gift of life when we eat them, and that catalyzed the contemplation of basic forms of worhsip. What kinds of worship are eternal, innate, archetypal to humans? Thanksgiving, appeasement, petition, rites of initiation [life/ adulthood/ death]..? Others? Healing. .. I am struck with irony as I basically recognize the seven sacraments here. But seriously. Interesting point to ponder.. research.
Suddenly this lego stuff gives me the idea for a sculpture of "Human Thought."
current mood: stinging eyes
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(love me)
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| Friday, February 4th, 2005
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12:45 pm - goings-on
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For some reason, it has felt like there has been no reason to write for many days, then suddenly it's like a light is turned on and then I see all the old furniture that I should be moving out onto the [proverbial] page.
Rehersal Wednesday:
We read part of one of the scripts, ironically the one Brenn liked least. I don't get that. It had a fun ensembleness to it, but personally the songs bugged me. "Poop-poop!" I am getting more and more excited about playing animals, however. I discovered that there basically is no difference between ferrets, stoats, and weasels, except slight size and color variants--silly British, making a big distinction.. Ryan said he's gonna eat the whole cast. Eek! *hide*
It was quite painfully boring for the last hour and a half, though, and I got these deja vu feelings to all the trouble we went through to pick a script for the last show. At least, though, we know the show--we just have to pick a script.
Emmaus Support Team Meeting Thursday:
Well, the directions were good, and I got to the street just fine. However, it was impossible to see house numbers, and in addition to just normal Fall River street crowding the roads were also clogged with giant snowbanks--NO place to park. And don't you just love how every time you want to drive slow someone has to tailgate you? So I drove sorta around the block to try another pass at it [and hopefully be free of tailgaters], almost got lost [but didn't, yay], and just before I reached the street again, all the street lamps suddenly went out and the stop light started flashing. This is the first time I've ever experienced not being inside for a power out, and yet the change just as sudden, obvious, and dramatic. Well, maybe not quite as dramatic--but the even darkerness of it made it even harder to see any house numbers, etc. Very pleasant, let me tell you. Well, so, the second pass at the street was just as fruitless, and just as tailgatey, but somehow there was a spot up at the end kinda at the delta of the street [the end where it meets another street and just flows into it].
Did I mention it was very cold? And raining? And dark?
The only problem with that parking spot was that it kinda was at the apex of two streets, so as I went to walk back down Washington to look for Sandy's house, and I walked and walked and walked and couldn't find it, it seemed very strange at the end because it didn't seem to meet Columbia the same way as it looked in the car, and I walked right up to some houses, examining the numbers and trying to distinguish names on mailboxes in the dark [impossible most times], I started to question if I had remembered her house number correctly. Sometimes I do that, but I was sure that couldn't be it because I had fixed it in my mind, but that number house was just not on this street. I even stepped right into a gigantic puddle, because I thought it was a piece of pavement, because I couldn't see where I was going and was trying to walk on, and the snow and rain clogged and obscured everything. I had mostly avoided puddles until then, but that completely soaked, utterly entirely, my feet, shoes, socks. *sigh* As I was trudging back up the hill towards my car, certain I was just going to go back to my car, cry, and drive home--maybe we wouldn't be able to have the meeting, anyway, consdering the power outage, and got a look at a street sign from the porch of one last house I was trying. Williams St... Williams? No, Washington. ... Some old guy, hard to distinguish features in the dark, told me I "shouldn't walk in the street" or "should walk in the street," I couldn't tell which, but either way I entirely ignored him and just kept walking. I couldn't walk on the sidwalks the whole time, many weren't shoveled, and I had to walk around to find the house, so.. whatever.
Cold. Wet. Dark. Lost. Alone. Hungry.
When I reached the apex of the street, I saw how I headed down the wrong direction, back behind my car and not taking into account my left-ish turn, and there, lo-and-behold, was Washington. Luckily, Sandy's house is near the top of Washington, because Williams was long and I walked all the way to the end of it and back and around again a bit, and although the doorbell wasn't working, I don't think, her mother let me in. Her mother was very cute and sweet, and I could tell didn't speak much English, but she verified that I was in the right place. I went up to the second floor, and for some reason opened the door instead of knocking first, although I had a slight twinge about it. The door opening scared Sandy and Eric and they jumped and she squealed a bit, but then they realized it was me and it was okay. (All of this is accenuated by only two candles lighting the room, mind you, and absolutely no light in the stairwell..)
Well, we began in the dark and it was fine, Sandy making me a cup of tea on her gas stove [although Eric and I had to tell her to get a match to light it because she has an electric starter, and if we hadn't told her it was possible she never would've known], and eventually the lights coming back on. Then we spent an obscene amount of time trying to find a little clipart on the computer, which we ended up settling on something else, but it was fine. We accomplished some things, most of which Sandy had already done, and then finalized some more assignments, then around 10:30 I was going to head out, but we got to talking about her and Mark's relationship/ breakup a little, so I didn't actually leave 'til around eleven. I had taken my shoes and socks entirely off at the door, but of course they were still soaked when I put them back on. Ah well.. Luckily, it was easy to get back to Rodman Street and I had no problem getting home, as I had a slight uneasiness about because I couldn't just go back the way I came--Washington is a one-way street.
It's been funny.. the times I spend with Eric and Sandy. I pride myself on being able to understand and communicate well with people. I like to think a broad range of people, but I probably haven't encountered a broad enough range of people in my life for that to be really true. But anyhow, they are certainly two people with whom I cannot get my conversation to quite match. It's like train tracks that don't quite meet right on--they bump, they touch, but the train cannot actually pass from one to the other or back again: they're not lined up properly. I try the best that I can, but I just can't figure out the exact appropriate way to relate to them. It doesn't frustrate or annoy me, really, it's just and odd puzzle..
*sigh* Well, I guess I missed the Club Theater meeting, but it is now time to go to rehersal..
current mood: starving
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(6 lovers |love me)
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12:41 pm - Unanswered
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Sun, 30 Jan 2005
Good to hear from you. Mom says she heard from Gabe that you "moved out"...what's that all about? Are you okay? And of course I will be praying for you, just please keep in touch!
Love,
Dad
Don't worry about us. Do you have a place to stay? Do you need anything?
Let me know. Sandy will be getting together with you on Thursday I believe just let her know if you can make it.
Beni
*sigh*
current mood: avoidance
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(3 lovers |love me)
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11:59 am - Spring cleaning
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I probably cleared out twenty messages from my inbox, and it is still way too crowded. Augh!
( little prayer )
Tied a string around my heart,
Pulled and pulled and squeezed and jerked,
And now it is all strangled up--
tangled up
empty and asphyxiated.
Web of pain
spider drained
lying out..
exsanguinous, effete.
It appears that I left my disk at home, so even if I did want to work on my talk during this hour [which I probably wouldn't be able to], I can't. *sigh* Frank said final deadline was noon today.
current mood:  tired, stressed
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(love me)
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| Thursday, February 3rd, 2005
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3:52 pm
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~ Hunger hurts but starving works
when it costs too much to love ~
Sometimes even getting a good song stuck in your head is frustrating.
Okay, so I guess it's about four o'clock, so I have two hours to do something productive. *sigh* Productivity is not high on my list today.
I think stress ball is becoming my natural state.
current mood:  blah
current music: Fiona Apple
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(love me)
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| Tuesday, February 1st, 2005
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2:21 pm - That's sick.
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Maybe if there were an equal demand for men in the sex industry this wouldn't be so incredibly disturbing? That's a pretty interesting problem in the modern economy, however. . .
current mood: disturbed
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(5 lovers |love me)
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8:56 am - One I hadn't seen before; kinda cute ~ "Piece of Cake"
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| Sunday, January 30th, 2005
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9:05 am - a tear in the eye is worth two in the heart
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The unfortunate nature of cathartic weeping episodes is that they seem to only pounce when they are most highly inconvenient: dangerous or uncomfortable situations, times when issues must be resolved without emotional breakdowns, or at random weird little things in the grocery store or in Sylvan Learning commercials [damn them!]. Then, by the time one has plodded to a safe and calm environment, with a gigantic box of tissues, the feeling has dried up and it all seems like a collosal waste of time and energy to cry at all. They are quite like flash floods, I suppose. ... Yes, very much like.
Friday was rather busy for me. I don't remember the morning entirely clearly, but I wanted to get to class at eleven, and made it there by about 11:30 [mostly because I was doing silly things online--email and livejournal and such]. Amusingly enough, it was basically a repeat of the information from the day before and the prof said I didn't need to be there, but I decided to hang anyway, since I had already A. missed half of it and B. entirely interrupted him. Then I headed to the lab to work on my talk, which I did do a bit of, but of course mostly was distracted talking on AIM.
Then at two the lab was closing for testing, so I took this as a sign that I should just go to the auditions rather than looking for another lab. Auditions were fun, and after I talked to Ryan for a bit, and then I headed back to the lab for one last shot at it. I didn't have my watch on because I had put it in my bag and didn't remember it in the morning, so I wasn't sure how I was doing timewise, so I misguidedly trusted the clock on the computer, and it was half an hour slow. Of course, it was fine--meaning, even though I was late for the potluck, it wasn't crucial that I be on time. When I told Beni my story of being tricked by the clock, she said, "May it be the worst thing that happens to you today."
I had kidnapped Neal and taken him with me for moral support because of my stressful day, and as I was dropping him off I again wished I didn't have to go back to Middletown and spend the night there as Gabe and I planned. Be careful what you wish for? (Also, on the way back from New Bedford there were half a dozen ambulances buzzing about the streets and so trying to avoid one I at first missed my exit and then couldn't figure out how to solve the problem--after a supremely frustrating day this was not going over well with me. It turned out entirely fine, but.. just add another little thing to the list.) ... Just as I was walking up the stoop at Harbor Village, Gabe was suddenly there at the door. I thought maybe he was opening it for me nicely or anxious about my health or something, but he really was ambushing me. I think he wanted to replace the lightbulb in my blinker, but I didn't want him to right then--it was dark, he seemed agitated [and I didn't want him to accidently break something], and I was exhausted and couldn't think clearly about it right then [to prevent any possible breakage].
When we went inside, I finally discovered what was going on--he had packed up my things and put them in a big pile in the living room for me to, immediately, pack up into my car and take away because I had broken up with him and it's his apartment and I didn't live there any more. This was too much. It wasn't a "mean" thing--I should have thanked him for accomplishing in one day what would've taken my "two months"--it was too bad I had had a bad day, but I would have better. Of course, then when I said, "Fine, then I just wanna get my stuff and get outta here," he got all hurt and offended. ... WTF?!??!?!?! I cried a bit, especially when thinking about what Beni said, but I didn't let free the deluge. We packed the car with a surprising amount of stuff, actually, bickered a bit, and then I left.
The moment I backed up and began to pull away, the great sobs began ripping from my chest, like the calls of harpies. Fortunately I was not so incapacitated that I could not drive, and over the course of forty-five minutes I had mostly, at least superficially, calmed down.
So I took Saturday off. It's the weekend after all. *sigh* Blaaah!
I have been trying to free my emotions, and not feel the need to wrap them up and bury them down deep inside, because they must be let out to avoid festering or rising from the dead, but there still seem to be situations that require some of that, at least a modicum of control.. because an adult is not purely at the whim of her emotions. I am trying to find health and moderation. ...
current mood: ugh
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(4 lovers |love me)
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okay