The Girl Who Knew Too Much
Just me, a glass of wine and my neurotic ideas marked by compulsive thinkingFriday, February 14, 2003
its really strange the things you remember and the way you remember them. it would be interesting to do a study to find out if you remember your thoughts or your experiences more and what this calculation would indicate about personality.
It's Valentine's Day and i think it warrents an entry. Things i remember about Valentines Day: the time in high school i thought no one loved me and i received three carnations in homerun from Katie, Della and Cassie. The hours my mom and i would spend in the craft room at my house on Trillium making cards. How i used to have a shoebox i would decorate and bring to school in order to collect all my valentines. My mother making me the most gorgeous valentines because she knew how long i had spent working on hers.
Those are the ones that come to mind right now. Nothing to do with sexual love...but the love that lasts. Love that threads your life no matter how independent you may be.
My mom is most likely being cut open as I type this. The image scares me but now that the day is here i am suprisingly unfeeling. I am not dwelling in fatigue or self loathing and i don't really feel the pain of a looming rock in the road. I am rather calm and content as i watch the boats float on the charles and the sun streams into my office, half fuzzing out the glare from the computer screen. Cherry gum from Extra is good as is the new Go Bananas drink from Snapple. Of course i still feel stress but my stomach is tired of being angry. Even though i wish my boss had not taken it upon herself to spread to the entire office that my mother was having an operation today, and that she hadnt made it so blatently clear that she made a valentine for everyone but me, and that people around here would stop asking me if my mom was ok when its like I DONT FUCKING KNOW ASSHOLE I HAVE BEEN AT SCHOOL ALL DAY AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CARE ANYWAY?
Note to self: anger may still be present.
But all in all i need calm right now. Im sick of the constant waves of anxiety that rock the stability of my mind. I can't control everything. I am not perfect. I just need to keep telling myself that. I think i am becoming more and more withdrawn for the reality of feeling and falling deeper into a self-analytic, independent person. And i think i like it. While running this morning (-1 degrees F, BTW, what is my problem)? I listened to Alkaline trio. there was a time when music would bring back memroies and enable me to swim in nostalgia and desire. This album SHOULD have reminded me of James...of california...and made me want to go back there. Instead i felt nothing but adreniline.
I miss my dad. I see him alone right now while my mom is in the operating room and i know he is in more pain than she. He does not handle these things well..and i think he always felt it would be him first to have the serious medical condition. I wish i could be there with him for dinner tonight, but I know we'll have tomorrow. When i was young and we lived in maryland my dad would take me out to a restuarant called Partners every week, just me and him. I would always order a shirley temple and feddicine alfredo. He would get a steak, medium rare. I loved those outings. I love feeling like he has taken the control from me. I think he is the only one who can. So like him I am...strong yet incredibly neurotic.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
So i'm getting to the point where i truly feel my age: i get a nostalgic comfort from watching old tv shows that i enjoyed as a child. i understand now somewhat of how my dad used to feel while subjecting me to leave it to beaver and happy days. when you get home after one of those days where the tears are hiding behind your eyes from everyone including yourself there's nothing better than the age dated comforts of a glass of red wine and a childhood television program. I don't know what my deal is anymore: i cry at the silliest things and keep way too much inside. I think i need someone...someone who cares. Even though i pride myself in this "strength" im realizing more and more that being alone translates into this greater vulnerability. My mom is going in on friday for her operation and it is plaguing me. When i found out two weeks ago that she had cancer it was tough...but it didn't become emotional until i realized that her operation would be this friday, valentines day. I keep imagining her body on one of those slate cold operating tables and it's killing me. what burns me more is i have no way of working through this but on my own. and then there's this whole devoid in my life: it is ruled by men. i don't fancy myself much of a feminist, but i'm really feeling too much boy in my life. dealing with my self-righteous roommate over the phone line, cleaning, and dishes and then going to team meetings so spoiled with overly zealous cocks who have no real fucking intelligence except the knowledge of how to bring it up and down. maybe all i really need is that: a fucking cock. I mean, dealing with them day in and day out is really tough when you have no way to enjoy them. But who am i susposed to sleep with? i have this childhood attachment to my virginity--to the idea that i won't subject myself to meaningless sex. Jesus, though, I need something before i end up a wreck on some shrink's couch. I'm craving female love so badly right now..i want a warm cushy breast to cry on..i want someone who won't compete with me and just love me. I want my mother. I guess it all goes back to her. Perhaps it is that simple.
I really don't know what to say. I'm just having one of those mornings that feels like every other morning--nothing distinguishes it, it's just another piece of the routine that has taken over your life and creativity. Time to fight for the bathroom. I feel i live with my brother.
Sunday, February 09, 2003
i don't get myself lately. i seem to be falling more and more into myself and i think i love it...but morally some of the results are mixed. Good: I smile more at strangers, give kinda weird people more of a chance, humor homeless pathological liars who hang out in the Long Wharf Marriott claiming that Julia Roberts is going to play them in her autobiography (Erin Brockawich complex?), am unafriad to sing a loud when i feel like it, don't break into uncomfortable sweats around pretty boys or pretty girls. But then there's this other side that isn't so angellic: I send half naked pictures of myself to my ex boyfriends best friend, I curse at my roommates for leaving one dish, i am prone to random outbursts of temper in which i break wooden spoons on the kitchen counter, i push through people on the T, i purposefully stand in the doorway when i know i shouldn't, i drive like i have the hugest cock in the world, and i don't keep in contact nearly as well as i should with those people i know i will need when this "im totally independent phase" wears down and i end up on the shrink's couch. I mean, shit...the way i'm driving now, i'm headed straight for a life with a mother fucking stinky cat. God what other shitty things have i done lately? its sad that i know there are more but i've suppressed them with visions of myself as a pious and good person. I mean really, what does it mean to be "good?" Isn't life more about just being "Yourself?" I find it amusing that Hollywood only really depicts independent people...ok teen dramas aside, but essentially they don't truly capture our pathetic patterns of human dependency. More on this later. I could write forever.
