Friday, December 29, 2006

journal entry 305...

i remember being sad sad sad all the time time time.

now, not as much.

i haven't cried in at least two months. before the bad times started i didn't cry for years. still, i was sad a lot of that dry time too. i think i'm basically a melancholy person at heart and my usual state is slightly blue.

perhaps i function better this way - just slightly sad with no real hope that things will get any better, but not really disappointed about it. it is what it is. this is the life i lead and i accept it. if i don't wish for more i won't be disappointed.

it's cold and clear out. soot from passing cars makes it's way through the closed windows and worries me.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

journal entry 304...

i'm wearing one of those fussy t-shirts that say "writing well is the best revenge" and everytime i catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror or a conference room window i think to myself, and if one of them got hit by a car that would be pretty cool too.

i'd like to think i'm just kidding, but i have a feeling i'm not.

Friday, December 15, 2006

today's horoscope...


Your Weekend: Your trouble is, you can't hang on to stuff. You let it all go. You put it behind you. Where some people nurture grudges for years, you are lucky if you can remember after a week why you were never going to speak to someone again. Within a month it is as if it all never happened. Some say this makes you eminently qualified for sainthood. Others say it makes you a bit of a mug. Who cares? This weekend is a great time to forget what you hate to remember.

hahaha. that is so far off the mark it's not even funny. if there's one fucking thing i can do, it's hold a grudge.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

journal entry 303...

it's weird how people and relationships drift in and out of our lives. like how there was a time when my best-friend was janelle steffy and i thought the world would end if we couldn't have recess together forever.

and in high school, when dave and beth fucked one another and i had to dump them both, how i thought i'd never ever get over it. i was frantic with anxiety and worry. how would i ever find another best-friend or boyfriend again?

then there are the people who mean the world to you but then they move away or you move away or one of you changes jobs and your social circles change and you see each other less and less until you forget about one another entirely.

some of them i haven't forgotten entirely though and i do wonder about them now and then. it's just so strange how someone could be such an important part of your daily life, like you see them every single day and think you always will, but then you don't and eventually you don't really even mind.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

something to write with...

as she lay quietly on her side gazing at his back she knew. she knew that someday the scatter of pale brown freckles across his shoulders would grow to annoy her. that someday they would no longer seem precious to her and would serve only as a painful reminder that they had been doomed from the beginning.

journal entry 302...

sometimes i feel like i'm just slightly outside myself, just barely disconnected, as if some other me is doing these things and making these decisions. i just sit back and watch what i'll do next and wonder how i'm going to get myself out of it.

other times i feel like i can remember being this me since i was a child. i remember carrying around the same fears and insecurities when i was eight years old.


i had my first "boyfriend" when i was in third or fourth grade. he was a kid i met at the roller rink and we held hands while we skated which is what qualified our relationship i suppose. we never saw each other outside the roller rink and i can't even remember exchanging words with him. i do remember that his name was julio and he was mexican so my dad teased me about it. "how's the beaner?" he'd ask, and i'd get all defensive and indignant because bigotry offended me even then.

come to think of it, my dad and i are both pretty much the exact same people now that we were back then in '78 or '79 or whenever it was. we're both a lot fatter now though.


so i've been working on this long list of resolutions for 2007. i'm usually really good at keeping them too. that's because i choose things i want to do, like "read more books", "make time for journaling", etc. it's easy to stick with something if it's something you like.

i've also toyed with the idea of becoming a vegetarian and i wouldn't hesitate except for the hassle it creates when eating out with other people. i don't want the pressure of being a bitch when the menu doesn't meet my dietary requirements. i'm an asshole that way. i'm a big talker in my head, but when confronted, i usually retreat or give in immediately. i'm a vegetarian...unless we're having steak for dinner. i'll eat whatever's put in front of me. obviously.


i've been feeling kind of guilty lately because i love my new cat so much. i feel like it's not fair to babycat that i've replaced her so easily. i wouldn't have replaced her if she hadn't croaked though. i mean, i'm supposed to move on, right?

i guess i just never expected to love another cat as much as i loved her and it appears that i do. good for the new cat though. and she is fantastic.

blah. i don't know why i'm blathering on. i guess i've just been feeling guilty for not writing more. i was so creative and diligent when i was miserable and now that i'm not (miserable), it's t.v. 24/7. i hate myself.

#8 write more poetry

that's a hard one to keep though.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

journal entry 301...

i remember one of my favorite thanksgivings. it was at gummy and it was a beautiful, clear day. warm and lovely too.

everyone was there, even people i didn't really like, but i was happy to see them. jonathan made this disgusting soup that everyone hated and i was too young and bitchy to not tell him. it was 2 in the afternoon and we were all drunk and starving anyway.

i always think of that one as my most favorite thanksgiving ever, but i'm not even sure what year it was. '93? '94? '95?

my second favorite thanksgiving ever was my first one out here. with lara. we shoplifted hundreds of dollars worth of food, beverage, and housewares from the store we worked at and we drank and cooked and invited lots of people over. it was lovely. also quite warm and beautiful. i guess that's the way it usually is out here at this time. i do miss the way it used to make me a lot happier though.

i do miss those days i loved, with my whole life ahead of me. before i even knew there were "kinds" of wine, and not just "red", "white", and "pink zin".

did everything turn out okay? am i good with the way things are? i think my 1993-1995 self is super disappointed. my old lady 2006 self is pretty content with it though.

(right now i am missing my 1993 self and the 1993 KI i was in love with. who knows what our 2006 selves would be now though. i'm sure id' be equally disappointed.)

i still love KI even though we're both totally different now. my 1993 me misses his 1993 him terribly.

terribly terribly.

journal entry 300...

last night it was more dreams of husbands and wives and me having crushes. this time it was KI, though, and i was trying to seduce his wife and convince her that i was no threat. that it was her i was in love with. i don't remember if it was true or just and act to be with KI behind her back. i think i really loved her.

i also dreamt that rick springfield was on tour again and i saw him perform at some auditorium that seemed much too small for a star of his caliber. there weren't that many people there and i felt bad for him. at one point he looked directly at me (i think it was during jesse's girl) and i could tell he was quite sad and disappointed.

i remember when i was in fifth or sixth grade and i used to watch general hospital because i had a huge crush on him. i was only eleven or twelve so i think it was more paternal than sexual. i wanted a strong, successful, handsome dad like dr. noah drake.

i'm spending thanksgiving at the SPCA tomorrow, with the motherless kitties. i have much to be thankful for, so i am.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

journal entry 299...

last night i dreamt that i was sort of making out with the actor who plays josh lyman on the west wing. in the dream we really fancied each other but we were trying to keep it secret. we didn't want anyone to know. i'm not sure if this was because he was married to the actress who plays malcolm's mom in malcolm in the middle or what.

in the dream we were kind of "sneak" making out while a lot of people we knew were in the room. we kept pretending like we were asleep and had just accidentally rolled onto the other or brushed lips.

in the dream it all felt very, very real and i wondered what i was going to do about it and the wife situation and all of that.

he sort of reminded me of and old friend, BR, and then i got to work this morning and wondered if he wasn't meant to represent my boss, the one i sort of have a crush on, the one who has a wife. all day long though, i've been thinking about that dream and wondering what it meant and i just got back from the restroom where i passed a guy in the hall who i thought, "maybe it was him? maybe the actor who plays josh lyman on the west wing was supposed to represent this guy in my dream?" because i guess i kind of have a crush on him too, and he also has a wife.

all of these crushes are harmless and secret, mind you. no one knows about them and i'd never act on any of them because i have integrity and i respect other people's relationships and boundaries and i'm not the kind of girl who'd fuck someone over or stab them in the back just to get a guy.

maybe i used to be, a long, long time ago when i was still a girl and quite stupid. not anymore though. i'm all grown up now and dreadfully alone.

thank you integrity!

in other's words eighteen...

Kindness in Guatemala - By Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes any sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out in the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.