|Subject:||written on paper 10/25/03|
First off, This journal that I wrote in today is my most honest, my most free. It's a beautiful creation. So much prettier than they will be here. full of color and pictures. Words take time there. Typing these words make my palms sweaty and my heart race. Probably because I am so rarely so honest with myself. It might not make any sense because just for me I don't write explanations. But this feels very important to do today. Who am I to question my feelings? If I don't do it, It will bug me. For a long bit.
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"...I just worked on my short for an hour. It was wonderful. Set in NYC now. Getting help from my dear Mary. Mary is neat...This is not about the mundane. I choose my words with unabandoned care. I love language. I love my language. Occasionally, I even love myself... but not every often and not very well...but at least it happens SOMETIMES instead of NEVER.
(this is just in quotes not italics but you know I have a bunch of random quotes esp from stuff I'm listening too) I thought writing sad words of how it used to be, But I didn't want to bring you down. Here's my vow to you, I'll stay away...If you think I don't love you, you're wrong...but that doesn't matter now...
I guess I'm finding my true self. I didn't realized that. Not until now. Not until this morning. Not until last night. Not until the bonfire. Because I am always happy. What is that so hard to deal with? What is so terrifying about a bad day? Everyone has them, don't they? (I don't, do I? But that's a lie too... I'm just a private person. That's it right? Or is it that...) Am I so terrified of falling that I refuse to stumble?
Am officially too damn smart for my own good. That and the product of years of self awareness training: a.k.a. therapy. Damn. There it is again. the undeniable, unprovoked, thoroughly mysterious, overwhelming urge to cry. Just for a bit. And there it goes again. Gone. I haven't done that in months. Even when I felt that I was "supposed" too.. and I'm not talking about crying from pain, smoke, or as a causality of the Lifetime-esque tear-jerker. I mean for me, a release. to refresh and put things aside. For me, from me. Stemming from root within me. There have been times when I wished tears to come. Begged and railed. Tried to cry! It's sorta like being nauseous when you are sick you just want to throw up and get it over with! perhaps afraid. would it go on forever? doubt it, not anymore. that's what i used to be afraid of. maybe it's the fear of being alone. not just in the physical sense. alone with the burden. Maybe I have had too much therapy or too many damn lectures on the damn thing. I'm realizing more and more that while my happiness very natural and very real. the perptualiness is. It's me combating: THE FEAR
fear that multifaceted self will be abandon for it's multi-purposefulness. It's change/ people fear change: fear the uncomfortable; fear the possibility of sadness, the worry about the person and the over stepping of boundaries. Being reminded of their own sadness. and being proper I just don't bring that into communal space. It's my own fears too: worried that I will be abandoned at a vulnerable moment. To people I care about, I know, I can never, do that too. It's engrained somewhere beyond the surface. And the more I care the less I I will ever consider the idea. At least, then, even if it happens a hundred thousand times more, I need not worry that I did the same to someone. Left them in that painful place. That knowledge makes me feel better. Then again I also love giving to people. That's just me.
"If you're gonna get your heart broke, you better do it just right. It's gotta be raining and you gotta move your stuff that night... and the only friend you can reach isn't a good friend at all and you that you should have never made that call...I had the blessings, there's nobody home..yeah the blessings at the moment I was most alone.... A moment of peace even when the night ends... nd the best ones were the ones I could keep as I grew strong...and the days opened up until my whole life could belong...and now and I'm getting the answers when I don't need them anymore."
I know what's bugging me. No I don't but I have a pretty good idea....but don't want to think or talk about it. I know I am censoring myself....
I am still skittish. even after all these positive experience. I'm alot better than i used to be and I am proud of that. But still afraid of exposing my weakness, my truths, will unwittingly led to certain disaster. or at least some hurt. Am exactly shyer in SF than I was before. after danielle.
My Treasure is in Old Friends
and I am realizing that more and more. Aurora, Mary, Becky, dear dear Kate, Moyet...even Sean. It's not so much that with them I can be stupid (as the old saying goes) but VURNABLE. out of all the people I've known through the years they have adapted with me. not been scared off. proved themselves in battle so to speak. I can trust them not to disappear in the blink of an eye.
They have seen me at my most petty, my cruelest, my saddest, my worst, my most break downable. most WHINY. and it hasn't mattered. I really do have some great friends. I mean I might not have my best within arms reach but they are only a phone call away. Some people don't have any.
"Sometimes I see myself fine, sometimes I need a witness, and i like the whole truth but there are nights I only need forgiveness...You can't save me from the wrong I've done. But they are waiting there the same, and I act like I have and that faith never ends abut I really just have friends..."
I think...I know...what happened between Danielle and I has hurt me more than I previously mentioned. Even writing that makes me feel better. Noticed I haven't mentioned anything in a while? I honestly feel that a good deal of what we had is gone. I talked to Kate about it. Agreed (quite some time ago) that I refuse to truly chase after someone who is not that interested in getting caught. I will not do it after a certain point. all that "then they aren't worth it" bullshit is so fucking bullshit. three words: kristen and corey. there was part that felt worth it. but I refuse to beg. Begging exposes just how much I care.
I refuse to expose how much I care. After all the work I have done, even after all that... Molly remembers how... how very horrible it was for me.. so does Kate, actually (I called her I think, from the waiting room nearly bursting from my skin), to let her know my rue feelings. that much exposure produces almost nothing than mean by which to be hurt. one will have it used against them or make the receiver uncomfortable and nervous esp. if the feel are not reciprocated. (danielle was the one in SF to know her true place. But than again I'm not part of her group so...) some know because of time spent with them or the trust developed.
Example: Aurora, Kate, and Becky. I'm SURE if I called them right now... told them it all they would:
a) not be surprised (I’ve said it before)
b) not be freaked
c) would not be used against me.
course once I tell someone once I can usually tell them a million times. if they were going for destruction hey would have done it already.
I want someone to share my experiences with who isn't so damn far away. I want an SF branch...but that's tied up with who I am, my history..."
holy shit I can't believe I just wrote all that. But I feel so much better. Thank God for coping skills! I seriously am grinning. I feel so much better. I want to do a cheer for all the people who taught me healthy skills to take care of myself! I LOVE this. All that up there is still there but I'm afloat... in fact I'm not even really rockin' in the boat. It was like it needed to be taken care of and now all that dribble can have it's place. I think the duality was bothering me the most. I'll work on that. Wow. I wouln't have been about to that a few years ago AT ALL. not to say I don't still have work to do (ahem like the stuble changes in my behavior...) but progress is progress is progress. I am really am so lucky to have such wonderful people in my laugh who bring me so much joy. and support. go my buddies!
If you have made it hear please comment... I mean you don't have to I'm just curious
|Subject:||"I'm trying to evolve..."|
|Music:||Ani DiFranco's new album - song: "Evolve"|
It's been a while since I posted since I felt I was running on empty. No creative thoughts coursing through, forcing themselves upon the page, on the canvas, on the laptop. Not at least until I get to Los Angeles.
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Los Angeles. How I hate the city I love so much. San Francisco is cool, causal but not quite. Formality provides a barrier of reserves. Maybe it's the wind. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's because everyone is bundled in clothing. There is a wall. A sense of escapism. One can not feel. Removed as ash falling from the tip of a cigarette onto a dirty sidewalk little with those down on their luck. Even the noise in San Francisco is crisper fighting through the fog or attempting to overpowering by the wind. Maybe it's the endless string of loneliness and stimulation. Parties, appearances, classes, midterms, movements, protests, roommates, lovers, friends. They press in. The pressure sucks out the desire to feel. The pressure release something. Buried in obligation one can justifiably not take the time to think. The moments alone aren't really alone. They are crowded thoughts of the future, the past, noise of the street, things left undone. When alone comes in San Francisco, one can't cope with the reality. The 'R'eal behind the 'r'eal. So one does not.
Los Angeles is a city of exposed thighs and warm days. Warm air stirs the fog out of the non-native San Franciscan’s mind, as it exposes torsos of pubescent girls on Santa Monica Blvd. The noise of the city seems to have a relaxed rhythm. So many buses, so many familiar routes. It's so easy to fall into the thinking pattern. No class, no job, no significant other - just friends and family who don't really care that hair is mussed or that you have nothing to say but want to hear it anyways, just for the sound of your voice. They are trying to make sure to remember exactly how you laugh, that your hair (on the right side) always falls forward, the inflection of your voice when you tell them you love them. The comfort and the safety of Lon Angeles can envelope you. You must beware! Walking home, to dinner, riding the bus - they are all the trappings of deep mediation. The things you have been hiding from yourself exposed and contemplated in the lazy dazy haze of a Los Angeles sunset. They explode on the scene with no wrong, no threats yelled across the fence, no chance to arm one's self against the unbidden tirade.
I have discovered incapacity to deal with love. Not being in love, not loving relatives, not loving friends, not loving children. But not of lovers, partners, mates. I am not a person equiped to deal with loss of any type of capacity. I shudder to think of the day the my father or even at this point, my mother dies. I do have an inkling that my rather tenuous grip on sanity will evaporate. I don't want to be in that place again. I can't imagine those so dear to me, Molly, Dave, Bonnie even - my trio, my caretakers, my parents getting old(er) and feeble. Unable to live life as they do now. I saw a white hair in my mother's part. It terrifies me. How I wanted to rip that offending, defiant fiber from her head. Destroy it. Destroy any tract of it's memory. My. mother. is. not. getting. old. But she is. We all are.
I, on the other hand, feel as though I am getting younger. I am not equipped to deal with indecision. In all honesty I probably would have fit quite well in a society without decision. Had at 16 my parents, my father actually, bargined for a good marriage and sent me away to my husband to produce heirs and live to be 35, I probably would have done quite well. Now before the feminists get their panties in a bunch, I'm not suggesting a reversion to the middle ages. We don't live there. and I don't fit here. I don't know where I'm going, I don't know how to support myself, I don't know what to do in life, I have no remarkable talents to speak of, other than the amazing ability to comfort children. Nothing is stable and nothing ever will me.
I used up all my strength to survive my "so-called" childhood. I was an adult then, no child's play for me. My coping reserve, my ability for change, for loss, was sucked dry.
There is nothing to draw on now...nothing but empty reserves that I pray fill before I need them but seriously doubt. but at least I have cats.
I know I haven't written in forever and a day - but I haven't written anywhere for a while. I don't know I feel stilled, in stasis - unable to write. Interesting things have happened but they don't really seem like mentioning. Like I went to my second party on Friday and had an amazing time.
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I think that I might be falling for Seth, not so much for him but what he represents. The comfort of relationship with a nice guy. Rebound anyone? I don't want that but I don't to wait forever. Jason, while in my thoughts, is not over present. That intense itinital breakup hurts like hell. I hate that
Talked to Matt and Sean yesterday - I felt very loved. Wrote an essay, turned it in...
Sleep... I have a head cold.... must sleep...
'Lonely'. She licked the word, caressing the rounded 'e' and drawing out the last bit longer than most would find
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apporiate, finally speaking it aloud, "Lonely." But it didn't sound as beautiful as it had soaring in the vaults of
"Loneliness", she tries. This time the "-liness" got stuck and all she accomplished was a croaking sound that seemed reverberated in her voice box. She wasn't entirely sure she had made any noise at all. She is never sure if she makes noise.
Sometimes she wished that she had been born in Kanasa. She fantaized about having sex on a dirty blanket rubbing against the metal cab of pickup truck, under the stars, the smell of dirt, cows, and sweat filling her nostrils. She begins to hum that Mellencamp song about Jack and Diane, those two american kids growing up in the Heartland.
She laughes, outloud at herself, afterall Heartland would imply that a heart was something other than the
barely beating four-chambered muscle that laid dead within her chest. Her laughter contaminatined the heavy air around her, like the sparkles her cousins would set off on the Fourth of July in front of her aunt's home.
The ones she could never touch but that boys could.
Her lovers would always wonder about that laugh. How such a happy sound could have such an edge. "You're my ivory handled dagger, babe", he would say to her. She'd flash her green agates at him and continue reading the Times and drinking her lukewarm coffee. She hates the way they call her babe.
My goals for today:
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-Clean up my room a little bit
-Take a shower. which I know will make me cry. Why I don't know. But I have to take a quick shower.
That's it. Going to class isn't even on the list. We can work on that.
I'm feeling numb. Not quite because I know what true numbness is. It's scarying me. Intially, I said that is wasn't the intensity to which I was attached to Corey. I don't think there is an intensity scale. Just a difference scale.
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when there was something good in my life at least the hopelessness and panic were kept at bay and you know i could be normal. and six month after this i will feel more normal but even this time is alot different.
I wasn't depressed last time. I'm not talking down. I'm talking depressed and I think it a compound of a ton of thing this just being the last. It probably doesn't help I'm not on any mood stablizers right now. I haven't for about what a year and half or so.
I feel it. I can feel the signs but I don't have the energy to do anything about it. I know I'll just let it come and crash over me obliterating all thought
there are no good men in this world.
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I guess I can cross off getting a Dear John letter.
|Music:||watching the micheal jackson special|
"Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings; had she anything to engage her trermendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that proved her wtih all she yearned for. And like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous" from Sula
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Right now, I am I don't know. I came to write this with a particular intent a while that point still seem relevant. I mean I am taking time out of my very limited time to study for my psych exam to do this but I couldn't really study anyways so.
I am feeling very upset with myself. Some days I feel my short comings most keenly. Some days I am painfully aware of my inadequacy. This is one of those days. I want to run away and hide but you can't hide from yourself. I want to sleep it away - I tried that this afternoon briefly and it didn't work.
I am too sensitive. I want a passion that doesn't evolve anyone else. I wish that I was an intense writer, painter, or sculptor. Or devoted to an abstract cause. I try. But it’s not something that that one can simply wish for. It unfortunately doesn’t work that way. I don’t feel very confident about anything. Things I have used to be confident in – most of them – have with time been eroded. I used to be a confident writer. I used to be confident in my ability to be a good friend. I used to. . . but things sometimes change. I wish I knew who I was. I don’t have the temperament for the type of person I am. The more I think about it the more the panic seeps in. I panic sometimes. I do. I worry about myself, mortality, my family – sometimes it overwhelms me and I have no outlet. I don’t admit that to anyone ever. That fear that had lived in my since I was small. I have always worried about death, life, god, acceptance, etc. At six, I creep from my bed to my mother’s because I was so scared – not of monsters under the bed or stupid kid stuff – even though that’s what I told her, at least most of the time. I was terrified of hell, damnation, death, not knowing what to do with myself. And eternity. There’s a concept that will make me break out into a cold sweat. I used to have these periods where I couldn’t get it out of my head. For months. I would pray when I was little to try and make it go away but that only seemed to exacerbate the problem. I hate that I have never really felt part of anything. I can only remember certain times when I was part of group but even as a little kid I never felt like I belonged to a church, ethnicity, or family. My own family was so splintered that I never really felt that cohesiveness that other people talk about. There is never cohesiveness. I remember I always wanted to be Jewish, look black, or Amish. I would have chosen any of them. I wanted to be part of the group.
I wish that people weren’t so god damn integral to who I am. I want to go back to being an ice queen. Sometimes I really do. I am over sensitive and have too much baggage. I want to be more easy going or aloof (they are two different things). I wish all my relationships were in the same realm as me and Ro. Relaxed and comfy. I know that takes more than a semester or two. I hate that I fall too hard too fast. I get pulled in way to easily at certain times in my life. I hate my attachment to people in general because sometimes I really don’t choose well. And in that there can be pain. Although I have gotten a lot more selective. Thank Christ. I need too much – to much of everything, but most of all reassurance (the last semester with dani ring a bell?). I shouldn’t but I can’t help it. I feel like I don’t know. Even my volunteering is tied up exclusively with people and the human interaction. Argh. Sometimes I wish that I was just you know a normal 18 year old with nothing really on my plate. But that doesn’t happen like that. And one must do what one must do.
I feel so much stronger now. Now at the end of writing all this. I feel empty but in a good way. Ok I’m talked out. I feel much better. So much better. And our kitchen smells soooo good right now. I’m hungry! I want to have whatever my roommate is having. Wow I feel much much better. I already in a different place.
|Subject:||Another random post - I realized I'm posting alot|
I realize I am posting all the time but I am really excited about actually getting to WRITE.
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Studying for psych exam on friday. I have been for a while. I talked to Ro today and she made me laugh. It was good and made me feel much less...what's the word...unreasonable. She has a message that I won't deliever though. lol But everytime I think about it I'll laugh. I have to get back to work - finish more before bed. but my current friends are fucking awesome. Lemme tell you. They are so considerate and kind - really caring. Today was a great example. LoL I can't have a completely bad day with them around. Lunch was so much fun. Becca and Juan whisked me off and said "nope we are going to have fun" I love it. They listened and conmissirated but also made me have a great time. :)
Meanwhile I haven't gotten so much as a fucking hello or i'm so sorry but i have been busy from jason and it's fucking pissing me off. I am not doing anything about it but good god.
|Subject:||I love my best friend!|
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SessyRoken: hi rein
( The why behind the subject header! )
To the makers of the pill:
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Making a woman have her period twice in one month while she adjusting to your medicine will, more than likey, make her clingly, tired, and hostile. If you need proof of this - please examine the evening of febuary 19 2003 in the case of one me. Enough said.
Anyways. I am feeling sooooo good right now. I have so very fun and caring people in my life! Ballet this morning, which I might add I was NOT late for, Becca was subject to my vent and v. smypathetic. I got a sandwhich hug! Tea with them and then a psych class i really DID try and stay awake during. Talking with Katrina and we planned on fun weekend times and getting a message from Ro! Then skipping my Disease class (in part because I needed me psych notes from friday) and opting to go to Brown Bag with Juan and Becca and my new buddy Deb. Who I was totally flirting with. Bad me BAD. I shouldn't be doing that but I was. I realized
that when I came home. Then I also opted to hang out with them as opposed to going to under one roof. SO much FUN! I love San Francisco because Seth was the "straight man out". It was like "Hey you the straight guy...what your name again? " LoL so amausing in every way!
Anyways After the BEST afternoon in a long LONG ass time - I am taking a quickie hour nap before Students Against War. Because exhausted doesn't EVEN begin to cover it!
|Subject:||"This is a story of Jack and Diane..."|
|Music:||More Opera Stuff|
Today I went to my Racial Politics and the Democary class. I really enjoy Prof. Smith. We always get into the best debates in that class. Today was no different. Defining Racism, Sterotypes, Bigitory... You might think is easy enough...Nay nay we say. Major agruements on that front - mainly concerning whether or not language itself is racism. As in if you call someone a racially degority term, is that expressing your own prejudice, bigitory etc or is it being rasict? Smith says no - that's expressing belief it's not behavior. I not sure where I stand. I personally think that there is a difference in saying in your own home that so and so isn't compent because of factor x and yelling the n word in someone's face. Do I think that both are wrong? Yes. Are they both the same level or racism? I don't think so. Smith says that neither is racism. They maybe Racist but that act isn't Racism. ::shruggs:: It's a good class though.
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I must finish reading Racism in the Post-Civil Rights Era by next week. (that's actually by my prof...)
I must finish reading Cathedral (Craver) and Sula (Morrison). And four chapters in Psychological Science and a few pages in AIDS Updates 2003. Eck. No more.
I have to finish planning this summer. Mother and Tom came up this weekend and started grilling me about my plans....::groan:: I just want to magically have the plans set and in place...
Jason wants to come over tonight but I have way to much work!
|Music:||Mais Ce Dieu, Que Puet-il Pour Moi? Act 1 Faust|
I am sorry to inform the lame people who program Netscape radio -
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HMS Pinafore is a musical. It belongs on the musical station. My opera teacher would cry sad sad tears if she ever heard this.
Now you are playing something from Faust. See, now THAT's an opera...
//end completely errlavant pet peeve rant
|Subject:||Welcome to Blurty|
Woo hoo! First entry time!
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I only wish I wasn't exhausted. I still have a livejournal (well and a ujournal from forever ago) which I have been writing in less because way to many people know about. My shrink. My boyfriend. My psudo-girlfriend. My friends. My family. Everyone and their mother. I wouldn't be suprise if my professors knew where it was. If they were interested I'm sure they could. I'm sure if whom ever would want to read this could find it if they really want to...
So this weekend was amazing! Friday - the comedy of errors - I mean nothing went right. At all. Nadda. Not until Jason and I gave up and went to go rent movies. The coming home and just cuddling and watching movies was very nice. Afterwards was even more fun ;). I wear him out! I have so many issues regarding sexual experiances... Like the concept of a male organism really just sorta grosses me out. It has to do with my own past but still. I had nice clean sheets guys!
Saturday my buddy from somona came down, she and my roommate and her friend and i all went to a gay club. I had the best time - even adhering to the "not-touching-anything-important" rule imposed by said boyfriend. I got drenched in the rain and afterwards went grocery shopping.
Sunday was the SF protest! I was about three inches away from Joan Baez. I couldn't breathe. I was so excited! and the protest was amazing - all those people....
anyways more later...much tiredness....