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[04 Aug 2005|02:41am] |
Make 15 [anonymous comments to people] on your friend of list. (I think whoever wrote this meant to say "make comments to anonymous people on your friend list." Because I can't make an anonymous comment, since we know it's my journal and we know who I am. Anyway.)
1. I'm jealous of how eloquently you express yourself. I've stolen sentences from your entries to appear charming/witty/profound.
2. Your boyfriend is hot.
3. I can't wait until you fall in love. I wonder what you'll be like.
4. I remember when we were both dumb little girls writing dumb little yaoi stories.
5. Sometimes I think you're a hypochondriac.
6. Write more entries, bitch.
7. I think Richard could have been like you if he wasn't so bitter.
8. I want to be as immersed in what I want to do with my life as you are.
9. I feel guilty that I don't talk to you much, but I don't know what to say to you.
10. I miss the way we used to be. But I think you just don't feel the same about me anymore.
11. I should have kissed you.
12. You're gorgeous.
13. I want to see you with your exterior down, I want to see you write about a deep dark secret, something you're afraid of or ashamed of.
14. I used to be jealous of you and left mean, petty comments on things you wrote.
15. I want to meet you.
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[22 Jul 2005|10:35pm] |
I've gone deeper. You can find me in the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2) black_bathwater,
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| New for Summer. |
[27 Jun 2005|04:55am] |
Spiral-Staircase.net
It's new and totally different.
It's not finished yet, but this will, basically, be the new "feel."
After agonizing over what to turn it into (and thinking it was going to be a "portfolio domain"), I decided that I'd feel happiest turning it into a kind of graphic journal. Anyway, this was the only idea that I actually liked enough to put some effort into.
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| And I Pity... Any Girl. |
[25 Jun 2005|03:23pm] |
I woke up and rain was falling in a strange, uneven way, like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be rain or small pebbles of varying sizes.
I talked to him last night and it was like old times.
( But it's times like this that I dread-- when there's everything to say, and nothing left to be said )
It made me feel good, but I don't know if it was exactly romantically good. He also mentioned someone's name, someone that I suspect he is dating, and my lack of emotional response to that makes me suspect that maybe I could handle it. Maybe I'm only in love with him (or think I am in love with him) on days where there is an unfortunate mixture of loneliness and hormones inside me.
I bought new shoes for myself and I adore them. I adore them a little more when they're not actually on my feet, because my feet ruin the dainty-ness of them.
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| Not Just a Whale. |
[24 Jun 2005|07:39pm] |
I was reading about a girl who is feeling just like me and I don't let her know because she wouldn't care. And I don't know why it isn't enough for her that I want to know her. I don't understand people who have Friend Criteria.
I don't know what social magic I am missing-- what oil in my skin is missing, what appeal is not in my face-- WHY don't people want to know me? I could be one of those people whose face or aura projects just how unapproachable I am, and now matter how friendly the lilt in my voice or the amiability of my interaction, there is always an unavoidable reek of disinterest or disgust. Maybe people are only reacting to that.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of people. I'm tired of people writing lazy or spiteful summaries of me.
I'm tired of feeling like Moby Dick must feel when people say, "It's just a story about a whale."
I hate that I can feel my own ugliness like actual weight on my face. I hate having to bow my head because sometimes it's just too heavy to carry.
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[23 Jun 2005|02:28pm] |
I passed a man his change and felt a little disappointed as he walked out and that was the extent of our communication.
I am incredibly lonely.
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[21 Jun 2005|08:48pm] |
The influence of the male gender over my life is just as shameful as their influence over any girl I have ever belittled or been disgusted by because of it.
One man's words knocked me into the current and I used the words of another's to pull myself out. Rather than building a bridge and walking over, I inject them into me and float on my back.
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| Here Again. |
[20 Jun 2005|07:49pm] |
I always think of Richard this time of the month. The incredible melancholy that always comes right before my period always, always inspires thoughts of him. I dig open my old scars like a dog and make a big bloody mess. I think maybe, if there is nothing on-hand in my life to be depressed over, my psyche immediately reaches for him as the biggest available weapon.
I have never known that there was this strange element of being over someone. I don't know if I'm actually over him and these feelings are just PMS exaggerations, or if I'm actually not over him, and I just have the helpful ability to distract myself and convince myself that I am until this particular time.
These feelings are neither predominant nor long-lasting, but when they come they're so strong that I feel them important enough to cry, write, or talk about.
Maybe I should start taking PMS medication.
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| Father's Day. |
[19 Jun 2005|02:26am] |
I will go to work today because I do not celebrate this holiday.
Because I'm not even sure if the only memory I have of you was a dream or an actual occurence.
Me, Karen and Jasmine all talked about you one day, shortly after the two of us came to know that you were not the saint your mother always told us you were. It seemed less like a great injustice after that. It has been easier to dislike you for no real reason at all-- for passing down to me your ridiculous surname and your ridiculous chin. That day she told me that I found you after it happened, that I walked up to your corpse and talked to you, unaware that you were dead.
I told a man I barely know that I wish I had had someone like him as a father. He immediately thought I was tearing open some wound and that I was bleeding on his office carpet. But I wasn't. I have just never known you and I've never known what I am or am not missing.
I have moved past longing into an expectation that it would feel very awkward to have a father. I blame my romantic and sexual clumsiness on your absence because it's the only thing, I think, that would cause something like that.
I don't think I've really outgrown the wish for you to be here. I think my relationship to you has changed in a way similar to how it would have if you had never died. I regret, rather than wish. I feel a sagging, spongy and hollow place in me-- as if I have grown up missing a bone somewhere.
I assume that you would have been a good father based on what other people have said about you. I think, growing up with you, maybe I would not be so angry at myself for how I look, so angry at men for not noticing me, and so dissatisfied in general with any relationship I've ever had with a male. I don't know how much of that I should blame on myself and how much was caused by not having you.
I'll always wonder how things would have turned out.
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| Stuck. |
[18 Jun 2005|01:56pm] |
I've been utterly uninspired for months. I haven't written anything I'm proud of, but last night I also realized that I haven't taken a photograph or made a web-site or tinkered around with a graphic to create something pretty, either. This stretches beyond Writer's Block-- it's a complete absence of creativity.
Sometimes I read things that I've written, look over some of my graphic design, and I'm as impressed as a completely different person admiring someone else's work. It's not even really a kind of pride; it's wondering how the hell I did that and deciding it must have been a fluke.
I really want to start a new novel, but the prospect of beginning it and having it turn out like my first two makes the effort seem exhaustingly pointless. I have this rough idea about a dying marine biologist who requests that he be put in a machine and dropped to the very bottom of the ocean, where no one has ever explored, a place from which he cannot return. I want him to have stunning revelations about life along the way, but I realize that I don't have the imagination to provide that kind of thing. I feel like my aspirations are a few steps ahead of my experience. I have creativity, but I don't have the kind of life sensibilities that real writers require in order to put literary messages into their stories. Maybe I should just write fantasy adventure stories that don't try to teach their readers anything. My most popular works, after all, are the stories without literary meanings. I'm still getting reviews of Manhattan Love Story.
I feel inept. I struggled so hard through The Lost War that I can't even stand the thought of sitting down to begin a story, trying to stretch and thin out the plot to make it eventually 200 pages long. Writing is what I want to do, it's one of the only things I can do, but if I'm repelled by the mere thought of doing it. . . I don't know. I don't want to think about it. Blah. I read somewhere that "if you have to force yourself to write, don't" and I want to prove that wrong, because I'm a writer, but. . .
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[16 Jun 2005|12:10am] |
I think the ocean provides me with something I have always needed to believe in. A frontier. The feeling when your body is a bridge between the world you know and some alien universe that your feet are lashing blindly at. Water, in itself, seems like such an alien element. There is a mild pleasure in just inserting my hand and moving it around. It fascinates me how little we can understand about things that live in a place that cannot sustain us.
This obstacle between me and the love of my life is my scientific ineptitude.
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| One Write Thing. |
[15 Jun 2005|01:41am] |
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I can only do one thing right, and I think I never should have realized that, because I've obviously jinxed it.
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[14 Jun 2005|02:23am] |
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[12 Jun 2005|12:05am] |
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| What. |
[10 Jun 2005|10:51pm] |
Definitions of what I am and am not drawn on the road in white and yellow lines, like wrinkles from smiles and frowns.
I used to hook mermaids then watch them dry out in the sun.
I once mapped out my life and gave myself very simple directions,
only to find that all the roads had changed.
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| WB. |
[10 Jun 2005|01:31am] |
I went on a multi-state trip from May 31st until June 8th, which I never mentioned because I was dreading it and, until I was actually there, secretly hoping that it would get called off. I met two girls I've been talking to on the Internet for months (maybe a year now), wicked_abandon being one of them.
As incompetent as blowing my first job interview made me feel, driving across five states made up for it and then some. Being able to navigate highways and interstates is like being given the reins to the world. Transportation becomes something much more than a way to get to school and work every day. It becomes that little trinket that has been sitting in your room for the longest time as useless decoration, until one day you figure out how to actually use it and it makes this grand entrance into your life.
Speaking of reins, I also rode a horse, unassisted, for the first time ever. It was neither as fun nor as easy as I had always anticipated-- which isn't to say that it wasn't fun at all or that it was extremely difficult, but it was bound not to live up to expectations that haven't changed since I was seven. I have a huge greenish purple bruise on my calf that I have been proudly showing off and getting a little thrill out of saying, "I was riding a horse..."
I met the first affectionate cats I have ever seen as well as the first affectionate married couple I have ever seen. It made me want a humble, cozy, private and loving little nest with someone. It made me decide which plates and which coffee mugs I will have in such a place while we were walking through Wal-Mart (and this made me think in surprise, "I never realized Wal-Mart had such nice stuff").
I was supposedly very near a ghost/spirit/entity but I didn't see it. I have always believed in them but have never had a real reason to, despite having always been eager for one. Maybe this repels them.
I bought two books, a DVD, and a computer game, none of which I think I will have the time or energy to indulge in, I later realized. As much as I love shopping, clothes are usually the only thing I really use afterward, and that's only because I'd be naked if I didn't wear them.
I miss them.
I didn't want to come back here, back to people who I interact with in repeating loops, in conversations that I don't even dedicate much of my brain to.
I cried at the airport and felt like a girl in some sappy Nicholas Sparks novel.
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| A Good Day. |
[25 May 2005|04:28pm] |
Today a woman brought a kitten for us to take in (at Petland, not at my home). After I put it in the cage with the others then came around to see it with her, I asked her how long she'd had it. She didn't answer for a long moment and I realized she was fighting tears, but when she managed to say, "A day," she couldn't help but cry. She told me to see that the person who bought it named it Lucky and after I assured her that it would find a nice home, I had to walk away or else start crying myself.
I bought a new bathing suit for summer, as the top of one I just bought last year seems to have shrunk (or, preferably, my boobs have grown). It's orange and brown and I think I look nice in it. I believe that work will cause me to lose weight, as I never sit down at work and it's so far been the exercise equivalent of walking for 5-7 hours a day. I think this is a very good deal; it feels much less like exercising and is much more enjoyable when you're getting paid to do it.
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| Hee. |
[20 May 2005|04:48pm] |
I've been tired and irritable lately because of my new job (at Petland!) and because of yet another family situation that I don't feel like dwelling on just now. Today, though, I felt competent and productive. I learned things and was given more stuff to do, so while I'm exhausted, I'm more confident that I won't be miserable working there. Yesterday, all I really did was stand around a lot, but today, I put a rat in a box, fished fish out of tanks, put together bird cages, and rinsed off puppy cage trays. The ferrets were also very charming this morning; their milkshake brought everyone to the yard. I'd love to have one.
Today felt like a step into an enjoyable routine, so I feel better.
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