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The worst movie I ever saw was The Love Guru. No matter how much pot I smoked I could not sit through the whole thing. Pure trash. Several months after my attempted viewing, NPR came out with a list of the worst movies of the past decade. Guess which was #1? Oh yeah. Take that, Mike Meyers! How dare you subject us to that!
Fri, Jan. 8th, 2010, 10:50 pm
"I win."
That's his attitude. What he says to me with a smile. He looks at me, at this, and says, "I win." It's wonderful.
Looking back at my previous entry. How I felt on Dec 22, 2009, I hardly even recognize the sentiment.
I am absolutely glowing. I giggle like an idiot.
He says the best things. The very best things.
"Don't expect me to treat you bad, it's just not gonna happen."
Things like that.
I tell him he's ruined me for other men.
This is it. This is what I want.
He says if we can make the next two years work, if we can make it good, he's going to take me with him. "Woman, start your life with me."
That's what he says.
I never knew. He never knew. We're both glad we were in the dark. Having reconnected in our mid-20's. Now that we are both sane and humble enough to want better, to want to treat someone better. To be happy.
He told me I deserve a happy ending.
I asked him when he was going to tell his mother. He said next time he sees her.
I really hope I don't ruin his life.
I can't help being white. I don't feel like apologizing for it, either. She'll just have to learn to deal.
The kids, now of course adults, who knew us in childhood are all so stoked about this. Go figure.
Who knew?
I am so happy.... Now! Back to memorizing, as I have an audition in less than 12 hours! Woo!
I wonder if you hurt my feelings because I have upset you somehow.
Because I unknowingly deserve it.
Or perhaps this is just a natural bi-product of your not giving a shit about me.
Because lately I simply cannot tell the difference.
That aside.
These men.
I hate them.
I hate these men so very much.
The throttle strangle choke wrap up and pull down into smothering dim lit suffocation wrapping claws around my heart my throat they want to steal my breath away to severe my limbs to pull the pieces off into some cave ingest them fill themselves with me all ground up and brushed away until there is no trace remaining they will absorb they will gorge themselves on my life and mind and there is nothing left.
I am beside myself. Please god please god please god just let me make it to the semester's beginning. I can anchor myself in thought and action. I can be made real by my intentions.
It's beyond quicksand, it's not just a mindless sucking down though that's there too, it's more the intentional growth of a parasitic vine the way a plant seeks the light and moves toward it, aggressively. No mercy. No hesitation. I am betrayed by myself and they blame me for compelling them. How dare you be so attractive it only goes to show that it only follows that you will be pursued I don't know what to tell you I don't know what to say. The worst is once they know my real name that they think there is all the more permission it's like the only real defense a woman has is to be a stone wall bitch the coldest most ruthless retract all that light so there is nothing to attract these fucking poachers these goddamn predators to be sullen to be contrary to never return a smile or acknowledge a conversation you can't even make fucking eye contact since it's an invitation!
They don't get it, they don't get it, they haven't a fucking clue that they make it impossible for us to be us for me to be me for a friendship to form it's all so damn hungry and unwelcome they seek to consume it all the need, the desire the need the desire the way they want it all for themselves every aspect of me tell me something secret and true I want to know the Sunday morning tea and toast version of you give me little pieces of you that no one else can have that no one else knows here's a dollar and terrific drain a massive drain of energy and resources of time and they'd take it all if I let them. Perhaps it's a simple matter of risky economics the greater the risk the greater the reward or so it's supposed to be though considering what I risk I don't think those paltry dollar bills add up to much. Please just let me make it to the semester. I am beside myself.......
Last night Simon called, again.
It started online.
It's my fault for answering the phone, for not having turned it off in the first place. You you must know that he's so hard to understand in general, let alone when he's typing. He's too poor a typist to communicate effectively, often spelling words wrong, leaving them out entirely or piecing together sentences incomprehensibly. I wonder too often if he's lying, being sarcastic, making a lighthearted joke, or just being cruel...
And so I was caught up in the words he said. And so I was drowning in the incomprehensible guilt he somehow manages to make me feel...
He said I was The First, but he'd wanted me to be The Only, and so he hates me
That I was supposed to have been the mother of his children, and so he hates me.
He asked again and again why he still calls me, and thinks about me everyday.
He said I broke his heart, and so he hates me.
He said I still have so much power over him, and so he hates me.
He said everything he is and will be is because of me.
He said every song he plays he plays for two girls, but he will never play for me again.
He kept going on about how he needs to end up with a girl like me.
About how he's dating an Irish girl who hates me passionately and how, were I to ever meet her face to face, she'd attack me viciously.
When I asked why, what threat I possibly could pose, he responded that I will always be the biggest threat. And then,
"I'm sorry. I have wanted you. You are the girl that has inspired all this, all me."
I don't get it. I just don't. I'm reeling still and, right after the fact, I was shuddering convulsively.
We dated from the close cusp of my 15th birthday for about a year and a half. Broke up long before the age of 17. When we'd still fight in circles and he'd cry. When I'd kick the door shut after he ran out of the classroom, no matter who was watching.
We were kids. So young... Is he quite serious? Did he really think it would last? Did he really negate every subsequent relationship in his mind to make it insignificant in comparison? Does he really hold me up on such a pedestal?
The good news is that I gained a radical new perspective from the exchange. I was suddenly guilt stricken at all the attention I'd demanded from Owen, all the jealousy I'd targeted at him. After my awful, confusing conversation with Simon, I felt all the more certain that I was in fact capable of being a rational human being. Of living the virtues of grace and maturity I hold in such high esteem. I'm thinking that, on a romantic, emotional level, I can let him--Owen--I can let him go.
Oh Simon! I want a world in which you will send me pictures of the places you've been and say, "Hey, if you're ever in London, stop by to see my perform at X venue and we'll grab a pint at X pub when I'm done." A world in which we can smile knowingly at one another, ask about the folks, laugh about old times. Part with a fond hug and a kiss on the cheek, amicable. Sane.
Is that so much to ask?
Is it??
Nightmares, bratty kids, employment, drinking too much...
These are the most recent updates!
Cathy has been such a little hooker. "Wow, your eyes are so small without makeup!" and "Your hair is weird..." and "If your legs were just three inches longer you'd be perfect!" are just a few gems she's uttered in reference to me. I mean, really, with everything I've done for her--and everything she's demanded I do in the future--you'd think she'd think before speaking! Apparently this is too much to ask... Good god! Nothing like being made to feel super self-conscious by an 18 year old!
I've been taking melatonin on the advice of Sarah Coulter, and it's been working wonders... My dreams are more lucid--still nightmarish, but it bothers me less. Like a comprehensive episode of the world ending. At first it's almost fun, people banding together with the spirit of adventure, eager to try out all they'd discussed over meals or drinks or drugs. Then things began to fall apart, abstract but realistic, until the dream culminated with sobering realizations, most of my companions dead, a need to abandon the dogs in my care and company. You get my drift. I dunno, it's just a very different way of dreaming. Things aren't good, but it's comforting to have such a continuity, to have things make so much sense.
Sadly, last night didn't really fit the bill. It involved shifting, high speed escalators, a frustrating stage performance, confrontations and running, running, running. I woke up sweaty and annoyed, and went right to the computer. For fuck sake! Even the Armageddon dreams leave me wanting to lazily drift back to sleep!
Oh yes, and I got a job at the Walrus! F-ing finally! It's so funny to watch these guys melt. You can tell they're nice guys for it. Not sleazy, not mean, not conceited, just good old guys eager to believe what a pretty girl is telling them. Now that I can work with! I get the official offer today or Monday, and I'll most likely start training on Tuesday. They are impressed with my willingness to work, with my interest in internal promotion... I'm so excited. Now all I need is a push up bra and great quantities of caffeine so I can push the shots they sell there to college age boys. Poontang, anyone? How about a little Sexy Chocolate? Or a Panty Dropper for your lady friends?
When I got out of my stellar interview yesterday I went right across the street and slammed a super tasty margarita at Juanita's while I waited for Dave to rescue me from Pearl St. This was followed by multiple high-proof beers at the Southern Sun and a bottle of Riesling at home. Perhaps it was massive quantities of alcohol that caused my bizarre and frustrating dreams? Perhaps... ;)
Oh yes! Also to add to the recent activities:
Friends from home are conspiring to bring me back to Rochester, at least for a while. Mom's on board. What with being unemployed for two months, having no friends in the area, hating where I'm living and desperately missing home, it's not like it's taking a lot of convincing. The only thing is that I should have moved back when I still had money saved up and hadn't yet gone through the trouble of lugging all my shit to Boulder and signing a lease on a horrible place.
Now, the horrible place!
Oh my god!! Yesterday the kitchen floor was wet. As I was cleaning it up, the drain gurgled, then bubbled, then rose, then overflowed. I went to take a shower. When I got out, the floor was soaked with a formidable puddle. I knew I couldn't have made that mess, but still, I cleaned it up. A few minutes later, I returned to see the puddle was back, only larger and deeper... So the bathroom was flooding as well. I threw down a towel and went to wash the dishes. And guess what!!!??? Turns out, the fucking pipes aren't even connected to the fucking drain anymore! I call Dave, freaking out. He says, "Can't you just screw it back on?" Trouble is, there was nothing to screw--it looked like the goddamn assembly had been glued together!!! So I guess the idea now is to use the "otherwise unlivable" clause in our lease to our advantage, get Dave his money back, help him to find a smaller, more affordable place, and move my happy ass back to New York!
Now that I have a job, I guess I could start saving money to make the move? Hmm....
And it would only be temporary. Until I could apply to another school, one I actually want to go to. I suppose though that I should do at least one semester at CU, just so I have a good idea as to whether or not I want to actually pursue acting... If I do, then Emerson. If I do not, then I look for a really super awesome Anthro school. Yay for tentative plans!
The medical profession in this country is making me feel like a second class citizen.
Never mind the horrible religious Right and their attempts to make women prisoners in their own bodies, never mind the laws being enacted in all but 13 States that uphold the rights of the unborn above and beyond those of the women carrying them.
That's not what I'm talking about here.
I'm talking about cervical cancer screening, and all the horrors associated with it.
I'm talking about abortion services and all the trauma that could be avoided if only physicians chose to act.
I'm talking about the women who sob for 30 to 40 minutes straight, who desperately clutch the hand of a friend while she smells her own skin burning, who might possibly be unable to carry a child to full term after such a nightmare, who will bleed for an unknown length of time after such a horrifying procedure. That's what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about the women who are told to take ibuprofen to ease the pain of biopsies, of internal scraping and cutting over which they have no control.
Pain medication? 5mg Vicodin, and only after major surgery, and only if you're lucky.
IV sedation? A perfectly reasonable solution to traumatizing surgery that does not require patient participation in any way, but good fucking luck finding a doctor willing to do it!
I'm so angry. I'm so fucking angry. People who know me well are surprised by the sheer scope of my rage--they know I get upset but this is bad even for me.
Anger is a useful tool for masking other emotions.
Anger will hide and protect me from the inevitable.
From impending pain and panic.
I really, truly, just do not know what to do.
My friends, never again will I live in fear that Sarah Palin could possibly actually affect my life one day.
Or have to sleep and wake and breathe with the knowledge that that Rapture-raving, Alaskan hick, wolf-slaughtering, subversive cunt would be next in line for the nuclear codes.
Never again will I have to hear John McCain (god bless him) utter the words "pork barrel" from his shaky old man jowls, or wonder what exactly a total "spending freeze" might mean to me.
And for at least the next two years I shall not have to dread the effect the religious Right might have on my uterus.
I am a happy voter.
For the time being, I am at peace.
Fri, Oct. 3rd, 2008, 02:56 pm
Goddamnit
Houdini just died.
He was my most favorite fish. After King Leopold, of course. RIP, my little buddies.
Nearly hyperventilating.
I spent $1,575 of my boyfriend's money today.
On a 900 sq ft place in South Boulder.
A basement apartment with natural light, somehow.
3 bedrooms, one large bathroom, an almost perfect kitchen.
(What the fuck is up with people turning their basements into expensive apartments but installing neither garbage disposal nor dishwasher, anyway???)
Oh yeah.
The area is beautiful, sure.
But I don't know a goddamn thing about it.
Where the grocery store is, for instance.
Or the nearest laundromat.
For now I'll have no laundry machines at this place.
Or exercise facility.
Or secure entry.
I'm not sure how far it actually is from campus.
We're not allowed to use the backyard, since it belong to the lady upstairs.
Whatever.
But what about utilities?
Do we split them with her?
Is anything covered by our whopping $900/month lease?
A fat woman with two young girls, will she be blasting the heat all winter, and expect us to pay half?
Heating half a freakin' house??
High pressure sales.
"Someone else is coming in 15 minutes to tour the place. They're very excited about it. Of course, if you want to sign RIGHT NOW, then it could be yours..."
And of course David wasn't there to see it.
So if he hates it it's all my fault.
And I still haven't gotten a call back from the bar...
I'm going back on stage, aren't I?
I'm going to become a stripper again...
I just can't believe it.
I spent nearly 16 grand of someone else's money today!
And I'm UNEMPLOYED!
Holy fucking hell!
I'm bored.
I'm feeling desperate.
My "best friend" is the weirdest chick in the world...
I called her, in tears, about the sum of money I spent.
About how I still have no job.
And she told me I'm still a good friend, even when I don't have money.
What the fuck is that??
Is that supposed to make me feel better? Does that have ANYTHING to do with my concerns?
I'm freaking out. FREAKING OUT. Waiting for the pills to kick in.
And then maybe I can sleep...
See what happens when I don't smoke weed?
I think.
I think way too damn much and nothing productive comes of it.
I worry myself to pieces.
This pernicious doubt. This antagonistic....
whoa.
ok
drugs working
bye for now...........
(exhale)
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rochesteryin's journal
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