bearable

i'm worried about my sister. she says life is not worth living. i hate not knowing how to fix the people you care about. there aren't many people i care about. less than two hands worth. she's tied for number one for the people you'd fix if you could. maybe she is number one. no, tied. i don't know what to do. listen? that's not really enough. i could get her committed to psychiatric care, or evaluated at least, for saying she wants to kill herself, but then would she just not tell me anymore? is this just something like everybody goes through? but apathy to the point of not being able to function properly in your daily life? is it just melissa, is it just pure heartbreak? should i set her up an appointment? would she even go? can you buy gift certificates for a psychiatrist? what should you do? you can't control someone, can't change their feelings, can't fix them. if you can i don't know how... isn't there always a way out, if you can just visualize it? things can change, i know, life can change, but can you change it just by wanting to, working for it? baby steps, that's what helped me. but life is so unfair. sometime you can do everything you should and it just doesn't change. or it changes, but it still isn't good enough.

don't you know people love you? don't you know how special you are? isn't that enough to make it bearable?

thank y'all for your...

i would love so much to be the kind of person who writes (and actually sends) thank you cards. somehow, it never works out for me. maybe i'll try again...

ok here's my plan

graduate saturday. get a freelance/volunteer part-time job after work and between class asap, preferably doing something fun/cool either writing or doing editorial assistant type stuff. take photography class during the summer. take pictures of the animals at the spca. make some websites for people. take mla classes during the fall, spring, summer, fall and spring. visit california, mexico and london. find a job writing/editing something. graduate again. move, maybe. have a baby or two.

psychogenetics

do you think we really can change those things so deeply embedded in us? are they part of our genetic makeup, or just such deeply defined grooves imbedded in our memories from what we've witnessed? i tend to think it's the latter. why do we care so much about people who we know aren't people to be emulated, or looked up to? why do we still seek their approval, and let their opinions effect us?

i want to be different. i want to take risks. i want to be uncomfortable. i don't want what they have. i want to be happy. i want to be alive. i want to go places, do things. so why am i still following their path? actually, i think i've veered off, but am still headed in the same general direction. i need a plan.

the present for the past

i love this, from an article in TIME magazine.

If memories are indeed stored in the brain as holograms, each part of the memory contains all the sensory and emotional data needed to recall the entire original experience. A single detail--the sound of a child's voice, for example, or the smell of a lover's clothing--can evoke the complete remembered scene. According to this model, deja vu occurs when a detail from a current experience so strongly resembles a detail from a previous experience that a full-blown memory of the past event is conjured up. "As a result of the mismatching," says Sno, "the brain mistakes the present for the past. You feel certain you've seen the picture before."

perfect

well, his family is perfect too. sweet, welcoming, fun, generous. not at all scary or stupid. so he's still perfect, more so actually. the weekend was beautiful.

such a nice ride too. two nice rides. and he told me his life story. it's remarkable. and he has a cure for cancer. is this ridiculous? it's too good to be true...

nightmares

ok, i am terrified of going to the lake. and it's friday the 13th. i had a nightmare last night about it, but i won't go into that... but someone wound up bound and gagged in the hot tub.

the last time i met anybody's parents was in 1998 and it was miserable. (and he wasn't already married, although i've told myself that i shouldn't worry about that.) see, i used to like people's families, a lot, but i got too attached that way, my ex-ex's mom and cousin, my ex-ex-ex-ex's grandparents and little sister. it's no fun. it's like when you break up you loose a family instead of just a boyfriend. i made a conscience effort with my ex not to care at all about his family (not that there was too much to worry about there). and it made it easier.

but here i am again feeling like what if they don't like me and what will i say and what will i wear, and i'd rather not, to be honest. i'd rather just be me and him and not worry about all that crap. and if i like them, what good will that do? and if they like me? just the potential of making things harder than they have one day. because we haven't even been "us" in front of the general public, much less around family members. how will this work? i am really freaking out.

speaking of ex-boyfriends, one of mine kept emailing for me to call him, it's urgent so today i did. he's supposed to be off of drugs, but he sounded loaded. he wants to go shopping. he is the best shopping partner, the only person i like shopping with better than going alone. he said where is my web site, one of the reasons i no longer have one. i hope he never finds this. i hope no one does. i have to be careful. but i like feeling like what i write will have no impact on my life in the real world. wouldn't his feelings be hurt, and i don't want that at all.

we talked about missing people. he said he misses his old friends so much he could cry. i know the feeling. i don't think everyone is like that. i think it's an emotional issue, it's probably why we two still talk even after so long. it doesn't mean anything, just that you still care enough to know that he's alive and not in too much trouble. he says he's going to san diego. and tiawana. it could be true, it could not be true, i never know. but i want to go to san diego. even for just two weeks. i'm jealous. i still want to get out of here, even though i like it much better than six months ago. there's still stuff for me here, but i think there's more stuff out there if i could only go and find it.

what do you think about studying astrophysics? i need to do something. i'm excited. and not. what do i want to be? do i know and am i just afraid to go after it? a writer, a wedding photographer, a website designer? why do i feel like everyone else can things but i can't? why do i feel so ill-prepared, like i faked my way here? i need to just do something. with no safety net. none whatsoever. but how can i, it's against every thing i've ever known or been taught. i'll think more about that tomorrow. time to eat now.

not the best policy

i think i just realized what it is... it's the honesty. i took it too far. that's why i feel so vulnerable. honesty's great, but the baby theories took me over the edge. i've felt like this since tuesday, so exposed. like i need space. like he knows too much. like i can't breathe. i need some things to just be mine. i've feel like we've been "talking" too much. you can overanalyze things. you can say too much too fast. that might be why i got mad over the not getting married comment. because i haven't been holding anything back, so he shouldn't either. so he doesn't want to marry me, but he knows already how i feel about WANTING TO HAVE HIS BABIES. so i'm the crazy one now. i think i'm on the something. but what do i do from here? at the same time, i also think i'm obsessing again and need to let it go. but how to rein myself in this time? and we still have the thing that's really troubling me a lot -- meeting his parents and having to spend the weekend at their lake house. i'm screeching that it's too soon to meet his folks, but mad that we're not getting married and having kids right away... i'm out of control this time for real...

just everything

we picked up indian food last night and some beer and we rented superman. i'd never seen it. after two beers i felt drunk. that slurry feeling. two beers? i already felt out of control. we were tangled up on the sofa. i talked way too much, questions, comments, is he in love with lonna or lois lane? speculation, rationalization, i am the worse person to watch movies with.

i went to drink my beer and missed my mouth. he gasped as cold beer spilled all over his head. at that moment i felt something shift. i felt embarrassed, uncomfortable. i never feel like that with him. so self-aware. so ugly. he said don't worry about it, but i just felt that tangible shift in the air around me. that change in the relationship. and it hasn't gone away yet.

i hate no longer being ok, not having the upper hand. i'd been so secure lately, i knew it wasn't really me. and then in bed the in a rut comment. i really couldn't let that go. maybe normally i'd have heard his insecurity, but mine was screaming louder at the moment.

it still is: why do i have to keep reminding myself not to be mad over things that i'm not mad about? why is my first reflex to be mean? it's so hard just to be normal and not crazy, why is it so hard? like him telling someone we're not getting married anytime soon. it would be insanity to say anything else. why did i get so furious? so disappointed? i'm not even legally divorced...

just everything. nothing is wrong, just everything. just like it's so much worse to feel lonely with someone there, it's so much worse to feel like something's wrong when nothing is. it's perfect in the sense that i think i'm really happy if i can only stop fucking myself up. and i'm supposed to go to the lake like this?

please note

note to all guys: after sex, do not ask the questions do you think we are in a rut? or are you tired of doing the same thing every night?

no matter what your warped intentions might be, even the most stable and reasonable and self-assured girl will assume you are asking this because this is how you feel about our sex life. if you are looking for reassurance that she is happy and likes having sex with you, the more direct do you like having sex with me? or even you make me feel so good, can i possibly make you feel this good? will get much better results.

for all the things he says right, he sure says some things really wrong. but i knew from that first pick-up line. and, just think, i thought it was cute.

babies

babies were the topic of the day. One of my best friends sent out a mass email to say that she is pregnant again. Sandwiched between the Iraqi soldiers joke and the friendship test. I called to congratulate her, but you know, i should have just hit reply.

i told him about the email. i told him about the phone call. me pouting that i will be the last person on earth without a baby, her saying that what i need is a cat. and later, after three coronas and two glasses of red wine he brought it back up. should we start trying? let's start trying. stop teasing me, i said, i don't want a baby. our babies would be so cute, he said, are there any names you like? stop it, now, i said, you're being mean. but then we talked about names until i think we both started getting freaked out, and then i said, too soon for this? and he said, yeah, let's not do this.

but, after one corona and two glasses of red wine, i wasn't ready to let it go, because as you know this baby thing is a topic i've spent much too much time with lately. so, i told him about my theories, starting with the "biological clock is ticking" theory and ending with the "i want to trap him" theory. is there such a thing as too honest? and what do you think, mr. scientist? and he says, quite simply, i think you want to be a mom.

apartment sky

i love blogger, and now flickr too.

creeped out

ok. weird things are happening. i live home now, right. it's an old apartment, window units, but new orleans has been surprisingly cool and bearable for May and with the windows all open my apartment feels wonderful. except for the kitchen -- all week it's been obscenely hot. washing a few dishes the other day, i was sweating. literally. plus this rushing gas sound that i couldn't figure out. until today: my oven has been set on 200 degrees. i almost didn't check because i know i haven't used the stove since i moved in in January (sad, but true). but i did because i kept noticing the sound. that so freaked me out. i turned it off and the kitchen is fine now.

another weird thing happened about a month ago. i came home and a mini-blind box was laying in the middle of my living room. i didn't think too much about it. just that someone was in my apartment, obviously, and left it by mistake. the handyman? he didn't hang any blinds up. but, i just filed it away under weird and forgot.

now, i'm like, why would someone turn/leave my stove on and why was a mini-blind box left in my living room. it makes no sense. i've always felt so safe (the few times i slept home) and now i'm creeped out. i called my sister over. she said where was the box and i still had it in a pile of books i have to take down to my car so i showed her. what's in it she asked. nothing, it feels empty. then why is it taped? and i looked, it's an old beat up box, but the whole thing's been scotched taped, all the edges, even the tears are sealed shut. we opened it and it's empty. now that's just creepy. makes it seem intentional. now i'm really creeped, like somebody's trying to fuck with me. let me know they've been in.

i called the landlord. he volunteered that the handymen are always in there "servicing" the apartment and that i can change the locks if i want and i don't even have to give him a key. too quickly. i thought he might say, are you sure you didn't leave the stove on. nothing, just change the locks and don't give anyone a key. is that weird, or is it just me?

last thing. i was in bed talking on the phone earlier this week. when i hung up to go to sleep, i heard footsteps. in my apartment. i kept listening to be sure and i was so sure. they went away and i got up the courage to investigate. and two windows in my living room were open. it could have been a coincidence, i guess. but i've never left the windows open, i check before i go to bed. and i know i heard footsteps.

i'm not sure what to do. why can't anything just be normal for me? nothing ever is. such simple things are so complicated. and i love living alone so much. i still look around and am like, i have my own apartment, this is so cool, even thought i think i should be over it by now. it's the best thing ever. i hate that creepy things have to happen.

survival

friendship is unnecessary,
like philosophy, like art
It has no survival value;
rather it is one of those things
that give value to survival

i think i heard on the radio yesterday that friendship is more important than love. but i don't think i've ever been able to separate them. even when i was really young i've always been sort of a one person girl. my best friend when i was 11 or 12, i truly loved her, sometimes i think maybe i was in love with her. i might have been. i get really attached to people quickly, i hold them close and it's hard to let go. i still keep in touch with most of my ex-boyfriends. people say that's weird, but they were such a big part of my life, had so much impact on who i am, how can you not want to keep that in your life? when i am in love, that person becomes my best friend. or maybe the other way around, i'm not sure.

friendship/love is not unnecessary. survival is not enough.

advice

i don't want to be famous or rich or powerful or envied, i just want to be happy. i want a job that i enjoy doing. i want love. i want a family. i want a really simple life. i want to be truly honest and still like myself.

we had a long talk last night about whether to listen to your brain or that little voice inside. my sister was really whacked. logically, she thinks she's being screwed. but her voice is telling her it's ok. that's she's happy. and if she's happy, the rest doesn't matter. it doesn't have to be ok for everyone else. it's your life. i knew everything she meant. i really did. i struggled with the same thing. but who cares what it looks like, if you know what it is. or believe, or choose to believe, or hope. because you never know, and there are such differences between the others.

i hate giving advice because i am so bad at it, and because i have so little answers for myself much less anyone else, especially someone so important to me. but she told me long ago: if you know it's right, don't try to make it wrong. more eloquently of course. that's all you need to know. oh, and my favorite-ist ever, that i stole from the priest, love extravagantly and leave the judging to God. but i've adapted it to love extravagantly. period. don't worry about the rest.

a new path

I have been thinking about you. Sometimes God leads you down the path least expected but it turns out to be a wonderful thing. Hang in there. The best is yet to come. You are a wonderful person.

sometimes people surprise you. i got this email yesterday after i told a former co-worker about the separation/divorce. i had to. she keeps asking how he is, how's the cats and dog, how's the house. i said, you might have heard already, but i have to tell you something. and poor thing she thought i was going to say i was pregnant.

i never wanted to be divorced. it's funny. i never thought i would be. that part breaks my heart. i never knew him at all.

cigarettes

i like to smoke. i'm not addicted. but i like having a cigarette in my hand, i like the way it smells and i like blowing smoke into the air. i like watching people smoke. and i like kissing someone who smokes. but sunday i had to quit. i was putting on makeup and my skin looked absolutely horrible. now i realize that it was probably drinking a bottle and a half of rum saturday night and then going to sleep on the bathroom floor at 6:15 and waking up after two hours and fifteen minutes, but at the time i thought, look at my skin--it's the cigarettes. and i took them out of my purse right then and haven't touched them since.

sofa or love seat?

sofa shopping. i'm not sure if i want a love seat or a full sofa. i like the love seat. i like that there's room for two. i like laying down with my legs over the arm, reading a book. plus they're cuter. my sister says it doesn't matter. just pick one. and the salesman says wow, the only girl who thinks that size doesn't matter. he thinks he's slick, but my sister says, it doesn't. and then he thinks she just missed the joke but really he just missed that she's a lesbian.

then he says, do you want me or the driver to deliver it to your apartment. and i say, it makes no difference. and he says, well i'm really looking forward to delivering it myself. and i realize that maybe we shouldn't buy this sofa from him after all, so i say you know what i'll come back another day and my dad will drive it home, he likes to do that kind of stuff for me. so i still need a sofa. i think next time i will wear my wedding ring, at least get some kind of use out of it.

addict

i live home again. it feels like it. it's nice. it would be fine to live there alone. i do need to put locks though on the window and the bedroom door and the front door a big chain. because i thought about it last night: the handyman drinks too much, likes me a lot, lives around the corner, has a key to my apartment. so why do i feel so safe there? i don't even have curtains and i sleep in my underwear. i live in a low-class urban neighborhood. i live alone for the first time in 26 years. last year, i lived in a house in the suburbs with my husband around the corner from my parent's house where i lived my whole live. and never felt safe. but i couldn't drive on the interstate either then. mental captivity?

so, i really do need to buy that sofa now. when you actually live there, you need things. and i had my first company. well, not really first, because my boyfriend has been there and my sister and her girlfriend. anyway, i had company. my sister. she's heartbroken so we got her a tattoo and then got really nice and shit-faced together. reminded me of when we were young. bonding over alcohol, i guess that's how you do it in my family. i'm just glad i don't have to be smashed anymore to enjoy sex. but that's another story...

i could kill melissa, because she doesn't deserve my sister anyway and when you are lucky enough to have something you don't deserve should at the least be able to realize how damn lucky you are. i hate broken hearts, but we had a surprisingly nice visit, especially considering, and maybe she will come back. maybe i will be there. at least every other weekend i will be there. and i think that's good for me. it would be fine i could still see him. come over for an hour or two, watch him play with the kids, have lunch or something, then go home and go to sleep. that would be nice, i don't care about not sleeping over. it's just the total break that i feel like i'm having withdrawals. like drug users, when they quit they still need a little something to help them live.