Well, my bitch of a boss insulted me yet again yesterday. And I was oh so close to walking out that fucking door…but then my bills poked their troublesome little heads into my mind and stopped me from doing anything rash and irresponsible.
So the story is this: A certain claimant of ours died in May in an auto accident (right after taking Ms. Straub on to help her in her Social Security Disability claim). We’ll call the deceased former client Elaine. Elaine’s husband…we’ll call him Frank…decided that he wanted to pursue the claim for the sake of their children. (And for himself I’m sure. The bastard was about to divorce Elaine before she died.)
Anyway, the hearing on Elaine’s claim is set for September 13th, so I was following up on medical requests that we’d sent out. Well, I called one doctor and his staff said they had no record of our request and asked that we send it again; with a medical release of information authorization signed by Elaine and one signed by her husband, Frank. Not a problem. We have those on file. So I typed up the request and copied the release forms.
Now the claimants do not date the release forms when they sign them. We usually fill in the date whenever we send out our requests…. that way the releases will never expire…they’ll always have a current date. Anyway, it was the end of the day and my brain wasn’t working properly and I dated Elaine’s form August 28, 2002. I’m sure you all see the problem here. She couldn’t have dated something for August when she died in May.
I realized this yesterday when I called to follow up again on the request. The medical records clerk told me that she couldn’t send the records and I explained my error to her. She told me I’d have to speak with the office manager, who, of course, was not available. I left a message for the manager, knowing that all I would have to do would be to forward a new release with a correct date and all would be well and I would get the records.
Later that day, Hazel asked me how my quest for Elaine’s records was going and I told her of the mix up but explained that it would be taken care of. She rolled her eyes at me, sighed, and said, “That was stupid, Chris!” Anger flares, but I know she’s right…it was a stupid mistake, but nothing major…so I just swallow my anger and smile. “Well, we all make mistakes. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” (It was just a podiatrist's records anyway…and Elaine was not claiming disability due to the condition of her pinkie toes.)
A few moments later Hazel goes into Beth #1’s office and I hear her talking in a hushed voice, like she does when she’s gossiping about someone. So I decided to go and look for a file I was sure was in that room that I “desperately needed”. :) Hazel’s back was turned to the door so she didn’t see me come in and I heard her telling Beth of my error. She was using her best gossipy “oh-my-god-what-an-idiot” tone. In short, my boss was talking about me (in an unfavorable way) behind my back to my co-worker. I was furious.
Once she realized I was in the room she tried to turn it around. She said, “Well, who’s to say that I wouldn’t have made the same stupid mistake myself.” I didn’t even look her way. I just got the file I was looking for and walked back to my makeshift desk in the library. Obscenities were rushing through my mind and I wanted so badly just to let them fly. To tell the bitch exactly what I thought of her…how unprofessional her behavior was…how immature it was…how unkind…and how damaging to my integrity among my co-workers.
Instead I held my tongue for fear of breaking down in tears when I confronted her. She not only angered me but hurt my feelings. You see, since I was hired on at her law firm, I’ve done nothing but my best. I haven’t always done everything perfectly or as quickly as she might have liked, but I have done my best and I have to say that my best is pretty damn good. Every now and then, however, I have made the occasional error…nothing major though. But every time she has flown off the handle and insulted me. Like her blaming me for the cleaning staff messing with her fucking precious laptop computer. And her bitching at me for not delivering a document to Social Security that no one even told me that I was supposed to deliver! (It was my first day back from vacation and I was oblivious to what had been going on during my absence. I didn’t even know of the existence of the damned document.) Anyway, I take pride in my job and when I do something wrong; I feel it seriously and personally. When my boss insults me over it, I feel even worse.
My initial response to her insults was to try and do better. I internalized it, assuming it was a fault with me…assuming that I really was incompetent and stupid. After all, this successful and wealthy authority figure is telling me that I’m an idiot so I must be, right? Well, I worked harder, gave up lunches, came in early, but she never praised any of that. She probably never noticed. But whenever I fail to do something exactly as she wants it or if I mess up, BAM!!! She’s in my face telling me what a moron I am.
Finally, I realize that the problem is not with me. Yes, I screwed up, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed and it’s nothing that will harm her case. And I am tired of taking her shit. At first I really couldn’t believe she was actually saying some of those things to me. I was startled speechless. Now I’m just fucking pissed off.
It’s war, you goddamned, mother fucking, bitchy, old cunt!!!
I’m finding another job as soon as I possibly can, and then I’m going to tell her to shove her fucking medical records releases up her saggy, white ass.
I want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind;
I want somebody who has a tortured soul...some of the time;
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery;
Or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, "You know, I never heard it put that way".
Make me say, "What did you just say?"
~Ani Difranco "Asking Too Much"
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Friday, August 30, 2002
Ma Soeur
I helped my sister finish packing up her shit this evening. Poor thing…she’s so stressed and afraid that she won’t be able to make it on her own in Maryland. But she will. :) She’ll be fine.
She’s had to sort through so much emotional baggage over the past 5 years since her divorce…her ex-husband completely undermined her confidence in herself during the last years of their marriage. He was always mocking her, never supporting her, always taking advantage and never appreciating all of the little things she did for him. For god’s sake, the woman laid out his clothes (and ironed them all) every damn morning…she even laid out his underwear!!! He never made a meal while they were married…never washed a dish…never did a load of laundry. She did all of the household shit and worked …but she was happy to do that as long as she was appreciated and treated with respect. But after the first two years or so he stopped giving her that. And he began drinking more heavily. And he changed.
After I graduated high school, my parents told me that I couldn’t get a job until the fall. They felt bad about not being able to send me to college because Dad had lost his job, so they decided that I shouldn’t work until I had to. “You’ll be working the rest of your life, kid”, my Mom always said. Well, when that September rolled around, I started looking for a job. The market was so bad in Beckley in the fall of 1996 that even McDonald’s didn’t call me in for an interview.
My sister had worked at United National Bank in Charleston for a few years and she pulled some strings and got me on there. I, of course, had to move in with her for a few months until I had established myself and could apply for a transfer to one of the Beckley offices. So from October 1996 to February 1997 I worked in Charleston at United National Bank as a teller. I worked at three branches…the main office on Virginia St., the Town Center office, and the Capitol Street office. Whenever they needed someone, I went. I also picked up an evening job at a kiosk in the Town Center mall. I’d work at the bank from 7:30am to 7pm and then I’d hike over to the mall to work at the men’s necktie stand until closing time. I worked all of these hours just to keep enough to pay my portion of the groceries and then I’d send the rest home to the folks.
Long days those were. But good ones. I loved living with my sister…I think it was during that time that we became better friends. We’d go grocery shopping together, cook dinner together, clean together, ride to work together, go to church together…the fun was endless. :) But the fun was actually endless…or it seems so now. I’m glad I had the opportunity to be there with her during that time. She and Rick were having troubles then…he was drinking a lot…and I think it helped her to have someone to talk to. And someone to witness his bullshit, so she’d know she wasn’t crazy…she wasn’t too picky…it wasn’t all in her head. I can’t tell you the number of beer cans I picked up around his chair during the time I was there. At least 6 every evening…very often there were more.
From observing their relationship, I began to understand how inequality in a marriage and/or relationship could destroy it. And I became wary. “If this is what marriage is”, I thought, “then I simply don’t need it”. I was my own woman, and I’d be damned if any man was going to tell me how to live my life. And I told myself that I would never become involved with anyone who likes to drink a little too much. Funny thing is that I forgot all about that shortly after I moved to Beckley, and fell head over heels for a young alcoholic. I had gone to high school with him…and he and I had had involvements in the past…but something just clicked that February. I was nuts for Mr. Joseph Carlucci…and he was one of the biggest lushes that I’ve ever met. My Italian Stallion, I called him. LOL! How bloody fucking ridiculous. All we ever did when we were together was get drunk and fool around…well, we would talk and we had a few good conversations…but it was mostly fooling around and drinking. Anyway, you’d think I would learn something from my sister’s relationship with an alcoholic. Nope. I learned my lesson the hard way…and ended with a broken heart, just like my poor sister when Rick asked her for a divorce a year later.
He asked her at dinner on Valentine’s Day. Lovely, eh? But she was tired of trying to keep it together. During their long struggle, she had grown so very tired and had fallen out of love with him. The “reward” of having him in her life became less and less a thing worth fighting for…and she gave in. She walked away to preserve her sanity. On the whole, I’m sorry that her marriage didn’t work out. In spite of his flaws, Rick was a good guy. He had been involved with Rose since I was 8 years old and was like a brother to me. However, I realize that if they had stayed together any longer, they would’ve just ended up hurting and clawing at the other’s emotions and sanity worse than they already had. It was best. But I was still very upset when they told me. That was in the winter (December or January) of 1997.
When I see my sister now, embarking on her move…her own journey to prove herself to herself…I am proud of her. She is terrified, but she is determined and that determination will see her though. She is coming out of that shell that her ex-husband pushed her into for so many years. She is becoming her own person…finally voicing her opinions…standing up for herself a bit, and I’m glad. For a while there she was the easiest person in the world to take advantage of. Whenever anything was asked of her, she felt as though she had to do it. She couldn’t refuse anyone anything least she feel incredibly guilty about it. She’s able to say “No” now and I’m glad. I can’t wait for the day that she stops doubting herself and realizes that she is truly intelligent, capable, beautiful, and on the whole, a wonderful person.
She still remains the sweetest person that I have ever met in my life. She’s the most selfless person that I’ve ever known, one of the kindest, and the most giving. I know that she will always rush to my side when I am in need, and I will do the same for her. She was my roommate in my childhood, my playmate, and (being 8 years my senior) my “little mother”. She is and always will be my sister and my friend.
Give 'em hell, Sissy! I’ll miss you! :)
"Thanks to birth order... I have something
she'll never have: a powerhouse to be inspired by."
~ Patricia Volk on her sister Jo Ann
I helped my sister finish packing up her shit this evening. Poor thing…she’s so stressed and afraid that she won’t be able to make it on her own in Maryland. But she will. :) She’ll be fine.
She’s had to sort through so much emotional baggage over the past 5 years since her divorce…her ex-husband completely undermined her confidence in herself during the last years of their marriage. He was always mocking her, never supporting her, always taking advantage and never appreciating all of the little things she did for him. For god’s sake, the woman laid out his clothes (and ironed them all) every damn morning…she even laid out his underwear!!! He never made a meal while they were married…never washed a dish…never did a load of laundry. She did all of the household shit and worked …but she was happy to do that as long as she was appreciated and treated with respect. But after the first two years or so he stopped giving her that. And he began drinking more heavily. And he changed.
After I graduated high school, my parents told me that I couldn’t get a job until the fall. They felt bad about not being able to send me to college because Dad had lost his job, so they decided that I shouldn’t work until I had to. “You’ll be working the rest of your life, kid”, my Mom always said. Well, when that September rolled around, I started looking for a job. The market was so bad in Beckley in the fall of 1996 that even McDonald’s didn’t call me in for an interview.
My sister had worked at United National Bank in Charleston for a few years and she pulled some strings and got me on there. I, of course, had to move in with her for a few months until I had established myself and could apply for a transfer to one of the Beckley offices. So from October 1996 to February 1997 I worked in Charleston at United National Bank as a teller. I worked at three branches…the main office on Virginia St., the Town Center office, and the Capitol Street office. Whenever they needed someone, I went. I also picked up an evening job at a kiosk in the Town Center mall. I’d work at the bank from 7:30am to 7pm and then I’d hike over to the mall to work at the men’s necktie stand until closing time. I worked all of these hours just to keep enough to pay my portion of the groceries and then I’d send the rest home to the folks.
Long days those were. But good ones. I loved living with my sister…I think it was during that time that we became better friends. We’d go grocery shopping together, cook dinner together, clean together, ride to work together, go to church together…the fun was endless. :) But the fun was actually endless…or it seems so now. I’m glad I had the opportunity to be there with her during that time. She and Rick were having troubles then…he was drinking a lot…and I think it helped her to have someone to talk to. And someone to witness his bullshit, so she’d know she wasn’t crazy…she wasn’t too picky…it wasn’t all in her head. I can’t tell you the number of beer cans I picked up around his chair during the time I was there. At least 6 every evening…very often there were more.
From observing their relationship, I began to understand how inequality in a marriage and/or relationship could destroy it. And I became wary. “If this is what marriage is”, I thought, “then I simply don’t need it”. I was my own woman, and I’d be damned if any man was going to tell me how to live my life. And I told myself that I would never become involved with anyone who likes to drink a little too much. Funny thing is that I forgot all about that shortly after I moved to Beckley, and fell head over heels for a young alcoholic. I had gone to high school with him…and he and I had had involvements in the past…but something just clicked that February. I was nuts for Mr. Joseph Carlucci…and he was one of the biggest lushes that I’ve ever met. My Italian Stallion, I called him. LOL! How bloody fucking ridiculous. All we ever did when we were together was get drunk and fool around…well, we would talk and we had a few good conversations…but it was mostly fooling around and drinking. Anyway, you’d think I would learn something from my sister’s relationship with an alcoholic. Nope. I learned my lesson the hard way…and ended with a broken heart, just like my poor sister when Rick asked her for a divorce a year later.
He asked her at dinner on Valentine’s Day. Lovely, eh? But she was tired of trying to keep it together. During their long struggle, she had grown so very tired and had fallen out of love with him. The “reward” of having him in her life became less and less a thing worth fighting for…and she gave in. She walked away to preserve her sanity. On the whole, I’m sorry that her marriage didn’t work out. In spite of his flaws, Rick was a good guy. He had been involved with Rose since I was 8 years old and was like a brother to me. However, I realize that if they had stayed together any longer, they would’ve just ended up hurting and clawing at the other’s emotions and sanity worse than they already had. It was best. But I was still very upset when they told me. That was in the winter (December or January) of 1997.
When I see my sister now, embarking on her move…her own journey to prove herself to herself…I am proud of her. She is terrified, but she is determined and that determination will see her though. She is coming out of that shell that her ex-husband pushed her into for so many years. She is becoming her own person…finally voicing her opinions…standing up for herself a bit, and I’m glad. For a while there she was the easiest person in the world to take advantage of. Whenever anything was asked of her, she felt as though she had to do it. She couldn’t refuse anyone anything least she feel incredibly guilty about it. She’s able to say “No” now and I’m glad. I can’t wait for the day that she stops doubting herself and realizes that she is truly intelligent, capable, beautiful, and on the whole, a wonderful person.
She still remains the sweetest person that I have ever met in my life. She’s the most selfless person that I’ve ever known, one of the kindest, and the most giving. I know that she will always rush to my side when I am in need, and I will do the same for her. She was my roommate in my childhood, my playmate, and (being 8 years my senior) my “little mother”. She is and always will be my sister and my friend.
Give 'em hell, Sissy! I’ll miss you! :)
"Thanks to birth order... I have something
she'll never have: a powerhouse to be inspired by."
~ Patricia Volk on her sister Jo Ann
Tuesday, August 27, 2002
I think my friends have all forgotten how to type....and it's kinda lonely and quiet. But maybe I should just enjoy the silence.
words like violence
break the silence
come crashing in
into my little world
painful to me
pierced right through me
can't you understand
oh my little girl
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
vows are spoken
to be broken
feelings are intense
words are trivial
pleasures remain
so does the pain
words are meaningless
and unforgettable
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
words are very unnecessary
they can only do harm
they can only do harm
Depeche Mode from Enjoy the Silence
words like violence
break the silence
come crashing in
into my little world
painful to me
pierced right through me
can't you understand
oh my little girl
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
vows are spoken
to be broken
feelings are intense
words are trivial
pleasures remain
so does the pain
words are meaningless
and unforgettable
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
words are very unnecessary
they can only do harm
they can only do harm
Depeche Mode from Enjoy the Silence
Monday, August 26, 2002
Home Again, Home Again, and Never to Rest
Ben and I got back from vacation Sunday August 18th at 10:30PM. We drove the 16 hours back from Ft. Lauderdale, unloaded the car, and fell into bed exhausted. I had to get up the next morning bright and early to get to work. What a shitty Monday that was. It was a shitty week, actually. I was so tired all week long because of getting back late from vacation, I had to go in early two days, and I got up super early Wednesday morning to take a test for a position with Disability Determination Section of Social Security. The fun was endless! :)
This past weekend I was able to recover somewhat, but found myself sitting up late drinking and playing euchre with Ben, Shawn, and Ken, when I really should've been catching up on ZZZZZs. Plus I've had a hard time putting down the book I'm currently reading...(George R. R. Martin's Storm of Swords, the 3rd book in the Song of Ice and Fire series)..so I tend to read well past my bed time. I just can't help it! The plot is so exciting right now, killing off major characters and all, and the characters are so well written, and the wit incredible!! I'm thinking that Martin may well be one of the greatest fantasy writers besides Tolkien. (At least that's the way I feel at the moment. Give it time...I'll be declaring that someone else is the greatest, I'm sure.) But the staying up late reading thing doesn't really help with the whole rest issue, but oh well. I'll rest when I'm dead.
It was a yummy weekend, though. It's always nice to have people you love around you. :) And speaking of having people you love around you...I'll be losing one this week. :( My sister is moving to Baltimore, Maryland this weekend and I'm gonna miss her so much! She's my sis, and my friend, and she always laughs at my jokes (god bless her!). But we'll keep in touch. My family has always been really close...physical distance won't change that. :)
And Ben starts school tomorrow...while I sit at my job and rot. :) I'm so happy for him...he only has to pull through a year and he's got his degree!!! We're gonna have a kick ass party or go on some awesome trip when he graduates. But under these feeling of happiness and goodwill for him, I must admit, I feel sort of odd about not being in school this semester. I don't want to end up not going back. I'm so afraid that I'll just stop here and rot in a fucking shitty job the rest of my natural life!!!!!!! ACK!!!!!!
Okay. Calm down, bitch! Get a grip! That will only happen if you allow it to! Focus on your goals and make them happen!
Oh yeah, I'm losing it...I'm even talking to myself in my blogs. I'm gonna go read now....it's so much more interesting than reality.
Sending thoughts of Love and Popsicles,
c.g.
Ben and I got back from vacation Sunday August 18th at 10:30PM. We drove the 16 hours back from Ft. Lauderdale, unloaded the car, and fell into bed exhausted. I had to get up the next morning bright and early to get to work. What a shitty Monday that was. It was a shitty week, actually. I was so tired all week long because of getting back late from vacation, I had to go in early two days, and I got up super early Wednesday morning to take a test for a position with Disability Determination Section of Social Security. The fun was endless! :)
This past weekend I was able to recover somewhat, but found myself sitting up late drinking and playing euchre with Ben, Shawn, and Ken, when I really should've been catching up on ZZZZZs. Plus I've had a hard time putting down the book I'm currently reading...(George R. R. Martin's Storm of Swords, the 3rd book in the Song of Ice and Fire series)..so I tend to read well past my bed time. I just can't help it! The plot is so exciting right now, killing off major characters and all, and the characters are so well written, and the wit incredible!! I'm thinking that Martin may well be one of the greatest fantasy writers besides Tolkien. (At least that's the way I feel at the moment. Give it time...I'll be declaring that someone else is the greatest, I'm sure.) But the staying up late reading thing doesn't really help with the whole rest issue, but oh well. I'll rest when I'm dead.
It was a yummy weekend, though. It's always nice to have people you love around you. :) And speaking of having people you love around you...I'll be losing one this week. :( My sister is moving to Baltimore, Maryland this weekend and I'm gonna miss her so much! She's my sis, and my friend, and she always laughs at my jokes (god bless her!). But we'll keep in touch. My family has always been really close...physical distance won't change that. :)
And Ben starts school tomorrow...while I sit at my job and rot. :) I'm so happy for him...he only has to pull through a year and he's got his degree!!! We're gonna have a kick ass party or go on some awesome trip when he graduates. But under these feeling of happiness and goodwill for him, I must admit, I feel sort of odd about not being in school this semester. I don't want to end up not going back. I'm so afraid that I'll just stop here and rot in a fucking shitty job the rest of my natural life!!!!!!! ACK!!!!!!
Okay. Calm down, bitch! Get a grip! That will only happen if you allow it to! Focus on your goals and make them happen!
Oh yeah, I'm losing it...I'm even talking to myself in my blogs. I'm gonna go read now....it's so much more interesting than reality.
Sending thoughts of Love and Popsicles,
c.g.
Monday, August 12, 2002
Well, here I am in Ft. Lauderdale Florida at my friend Patrick's home. Ben and I arrived here Saturday night after a 16 hour drive through West Virginia, Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. We brought his mother's car, so I finally got to learn how to drive a stick shift. :) I'm still having a little trouble letting the clutch out smoothly in 1st and 2nd gears...but considering the small amount of practice I had before we actually set out on the trip, I'd say that I'm not doing too shabby at all.
We're staying here with Pat until this Sunday. The poor bastard is at work today, but he's taking off a few days later in the week to goof around with us. It promises to be a nice, relaxing, fun vacation.:) Just what I've been in need of. :)
And now on to more exciting news....
This Thursday past Ben, Shawn, and I have the pleasure of seeing Tool in concert in Huntington, WV. Before I get to the description of the performance let me just say that I will never again purchase tickets on the floor. I had never before been so tightly pressed against a bunch of sweaty strangers as I was that night. The guys who were standing in front of me enjoyed it, I'm sure...with my breasts constantly grazing their backs. And Shawn and Ben tell me that some girls behind them were giving them similar treatment...except that these girls were dancing and rubbing their boobs and bellys and what not all up against Shawn and Ben's backs. I wondered why Shawn had that shit-eating grin on his face most of the night. :) It was pretty wild, though. People kept pushing through the crowd trying to get closer to the stage, and people were moshing, and fighting, and smoking pot. Some guys behind me came close to burning me a couple of times with the big fat doobie that they were passing around. And whenever anyone would move through the crowd, you had to struggle to keep you footing, otherwise you'd be knocked over. And the moshing...GRRRRR...the moshing distracted me throughout Sober and Aenima...I had to concentrate on not being knocked over. Stressful. On the whole, I didn't get to enjoy the concert as much as I would have, had I been sitting like the very wise Wayne, Cheryl, and Rose (my brother, sister-in-law, and sister).
The first backdrop was of some sort of ancient stone carved face, and when the lights would shine on it, it would turn a variety of colors. To either side of the stage, hanging from the ceiling of the arena, were two large screens onto which a variety of odd and somewhat distrubing images were projected throughout the show. A few of these images: a flying dove made out of eyeballs; an eye being held open with some metal device...blood and muscle surrounding the eye...and some white fluid was being injected into it; a circle of blacked-eyed white-bodied creatures that were shaped like Herschy's Kisses...they had no arms or legs...and they were each sucking on the pointy tip of the head of the creature in front of them...all in a circle feeding on each other; white-bodied naked swimmers, a multi-colored flace with an eye placed vertically in the center. The second backdrop was a spiral pattern made up of eyes and a large pentagram was hanging down from the ceiling, placing it in the middle of the spiral.
The guitarist was positioned front stage-right, the basist was front stage-left, the drummer was behind the basist and a bit toward the center of the stage, and Maynard was behind the guitartist a few feet and more to the center of the stage (but not directly centered). He was clad totatlly in black leather...black leather pants, black leather jacket/shirt...and he was sporting either a short mohawk with a black stripe painted down the center of his face or a black stripe painted on his head and down the center of his face.:) He never once turned around to face the crowd...but every now and then we'd get to see his profile. He sang every song in his place there on stage, with his back to the audience, dancing some strange slow dance...every now and then turning his right leg out to the side and stomping to the beat of the drums. He never once spoke to us. But he sang and oh, how he sang. And a couple of times he also played guitar, and Danny drummed, and Justin played his bass, and Adam played his guitar. And it was Tool in concert. And I was there!
They opened with Sober and closed with Lateralus, and from there I can't really recall the order. Aenima was played, along with Stinkfist, H., Schism, and Parabola. They did two songs that I didn't recognize, one with an incredibly long build up. One of these songs I think was Reflection, because I remember the phrase "It's calling me" being repeated over and over. There was a 20 minute long jam session before they did Lateralus, where they brought some guy on stange with some other drums. That rocked. :) I really wanted to hear them perform Eulogy and Forty-Six and 2, but oh well. Maybe next time!:)
One thing that strikes me as I think about the placement of everyone on stage and of Maynard's behavior...they appeared as a band...as Tool...not as Maynard and his guitarist, bass player, and drummer. This placed the focus on the music. All there was was the music and the images.
The night of the concert, I was a bit disappointed that Maynard didn't speak to the audience. I was and still am curious to hear the perspectives and perceptions of the man who writes such brilliant lyrics. I wanted to hear his "positive energy" speech that I've read about. All we got was "Thank you for sharing this moment with us." right after the jam session, and I think that was said by Adam. I thought, at the time, that maybe he didn't speak because he was slightly pissed off at the crowd for how they received the opening act.
You see, not only was the music of Tomahawk (the opening act) pure shit, but the lead singer was an asshole. He kept insulting West Virginia and West Virginians. He said, "Come on people! Get loud! You're supposed to have more energy than that! You're supposed to be the most fucked up Hillbillies around!" Well that wasn't too bad...most of the people cheered at that one. (idiots) "What are you guys drinking tonight? Everclear isn't it? Grain alcohol? You guys are fed that in your bottled down here!" Stupid thing to say. A few people cheered, but most flipped him off. One thing he didn't realize is that even though he was in West Virginia, he was in one of the largest urban centers in West Virginia. These people may speak with an accent but the majority of them are not rednecks...and even your serious redneck takes childrearig seriously. This was an insult to the intelligence of our parents and their ability to take care of their children. Some people started flipping him off. Then he went into another shit song, during which he mostly screamed and made stupid noised into the microphone. The crowd wasn't into it. Not much cheering or dancing. Just watching. He said, "I think maybe you guys are just eager for Tool." Cheering. And then he did a mocking impression of Sober. Then said, "Or maybe you just want to hear some music that's familiar to you. (asking the guitarist) Do you know any banjo music? Here's one I think you guys know...you can hum along." And then proceeded to hum the opening of Wildwood Flower. Pissed off audience. Many middle fingers flying up, including mine. Then he said, "Man you guys are tough. Damn, this girl up here in the front row looks so pissed off! What's the matter honey, haven't you ever had any dick lately? Have you ever had any Yankee dick? I'll be you've had Daddy's though." Many boos and middle fingers flying. Chants of "fuck you, fuck you" rising from all over the arena. I was among those chanting and extending my finger. They finally gave up and left the stage. Stupid cocksuckers.
Anyway, if Maynard was annoyed at our reaction to Tool's opener, well...I'm sorry but you don't go around insulitng people and expect to be well-received. All in all, I enjoyed the concert and I most definately plan to see Tool again...this time with seats.:)
We're staying here with Pat until this Sunday. The poor bastard is at work today, but he's taking off a few days later in the week to goof around with us. It promises to be a nice, relaxing, fun vacation.:) Just what I've been in need of. :)
And now on to more exciting news....
This Thursday past Ben, Shawn, and I have the pleasure of seeing Tool in concert in Huntington, WV. Before I get to the description of the performance let me just say that I will never again purchase tickets on the floor. I had never before been so tightly pressed against a bunch of sweaty strangers as I was that night. The guys who were standing in front of me enjoyed it, I'm sure...with my breasts constantly grazing their backs. And Shawn and Ben tell me that some girls behind them were giving them similar treatment...except that these girls were dancing and rubbing their boobs and bellys and what not all up against Shawn and Ben's backs. I wondered why Shawn had that shit-eating grin on his face most of the night. :) It was pretty wild, though. People kept pushing through the crowd trying to get closer to the stage, and people were moshing, and fighting, and smoking pot. Some guys behind me came close to burning me a couple of times with the big fat doobie that they were passing around. And whenever anyone would move through the crowd, you had to struggle to keep you footing, otherwise you'd be knocked over. And the moshing...GRRRRR...the moshing distracted me throughout Sober and Aenima...I had to concentrate on not being knocked over. Stressful. On the whole, I didn't get to enjoy the concert as much as I would have, had I been sitting like the very wise Wayne, Cheryl, and Rose (my brother, sister-in-law, and sister).
The first backdrop was of some sort of ancient stone carved face, and when the lights would shine on it, it would turn a variety of colors. To either side of the stage, hanging from the ceiling of the arena, were two large screens onto which a variety of odd and somewhat distrubing images were projected throughout the show. A few of these images: a flying dove made out of eyeballs; an eye being held open with some metal device...blood and muscle surrounding the eye...and some white fluid was being injected into it; a circle of blacked-eyed white-bodied creatures that were shaped like Herschy's Kisses...they had no arms or legs...and they were each sucking on the pointy tip of the head of the creature in front of them...all in a circle feeding on each other; white-bodied naked swimmers, a multi-colored flace with an eye placed vertically in the center. The second backdrop was a spiral pattern made up of eyes and a large pentagram was hanging down from the ceiling, placing it in the middle of the spiral.
The guitarist was positioned front stage-right, the basist was front stage-left, the drummer was behind the basist and a bit toward the center of the stage, and Maynard was behind the guitartist a few feet and more to the center of the stage (but not directly centered). He was clad totatlly in black leather...black leather pants, black leather jacket/shirt...and he was sporting either a short mohawk with a black stripe painted down the center of his face or a black stripe painted on his head and down the center of his face.:) He never once turned around to face the crowd...but every now and then we'd get to see his profile. He sang every song in his place there on stage, with his back to the audience, dancing some strange slow dance...every now and then turning his right leg out to the side and stomping to the beat of the drums. He never once spoke to us. But he sang and oh, how he sang. And a couple of times he also played guitar, and Danny drummed, and Justin played his bass, and Adam played his guitar. And it was Tool in concert. And I was there!
They opened with Sober and closed with Lateralus, and from there I can't really recall the order. Aenima was played, along with Stinkfist, H., Schism, and Parabola. They did two songs that I didn't recognize, one with an incredibly long build up. One of these songs I think was Reflection, because I remember the phrase "It's calling me" being repeated over and over. There was a 20 minute long jam session before they did Lateralus, where they brought some guy on stange with some other drums. That rocked. :) I really wanted to hear them perform Eulogy and Forty-Six and 2, but oh well. Maybe next time!:)
One thing that strikes me as I think about the placement of everyone on stage and of Maynard's behavior...they appeared as a band...as Tool...not as Maynard and his guitarist, bass player, and drummer. This placed the focus on the music. All there was was the music and the images.
The night of the concert, I was a bit disappointed that Maynard didn't speak to the audience. I was and still am curious to hear the perspectives and perceptions of the man who writes such brilliant lyrics. I wanted to hear his "positive energy" speech that I've read about. All we got was "Thank you for sharing this moment with us." right after the jam session, and I think that was said by Adam. I thought, at the time, that maybe he didn't speak because he was slightly pissed off at the crowd for how they received the opening act.
You see, not only was the music of Tomahawk (the opening act) pure shit, but the lead singer was an asshole. He kept insulting West Virginia and West Virginians. He said, "Come on people! Get loud! You're supposed to have more energy than that! You're supposed to be the most fucked up Hillbillies around!" Well that wasn't too bad...most of the people cheered at that one. (idiots) "What are you guys drinking tonight? Everclear isn't it? Grain alcohol? You guys are fed that in your bottled down here!" Stupid thing to say. A few people cheered, but most flipped him off. One thing he didn't realize is that even though he was in West Virginia, he was in one of the largest urban centers in West Virginia. These people may speak with an accent but the majority of them are not rednecks...and even your serious redneck takes childrearig seriously. This was an insult to the intelligence of our parents and their ability to take care of their children. Some people started flipping him off. Then he went into another shit song, during which he mostly screamed and made stupid noised into the microphone. The crowd wasn't into it. Not much cheering or dancing. Just watching. He said, "I think maybe you guys are just eager for Tool." Cheering. And then he did a mocking impression of Sober. Then said, "Or maybe you just want to hear some music that's familiar to you. (asking the guitarist) Do you know any banjo music? Here's one I think you guys know...you can hum along." And then proceeded to hum the opening of Wildwood Flower. Pissed off audience. Many middle fingers flying up, including mine. Then he said, "Man you guys are tough. Damn, this girl up here in the front row looks so pissed off! What's the matter honey, haven't you ever had any dick lately? Have you ever had any Yankee dick? I'll be you've had Daddy's though." Many boos and middle fingers flying. Chants of "fuck you, fuck you" rising from all over the arena. I was among those chanting and extending my finger. They finally gave up and left the stage. Stupid cocksuckers.
Anyway, if Maynard was annoyed at our reaction to Tool's opener, well...I'm sorry but you don't go around insulitng people and expect to be well-received. All in all, I enjoyed the concert and I most definately plan to see Tool again...this time with seats.:)
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Sunday, July 28, 2002
I intended to post this on Saturday night, but for some reason Blogger didn't like my mother's computer and decided not to work properly. At any rate...here it is. :)
Friday Night Buddhist
I went to hear Buddhist monk, Bhante Gunarantana, speak at University of Charleston last night. Bhante G., as most at the gathering referred to him, is a 74-year-old Theravadan monk from Sri Lanka who teaches meditation worldwide and is the author of “Mindfulness in Plain English” and “Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness”.
I had the awkward pleasure of riding up in the elevator with the evening’s speaker. I arrived early (for once) and was trying to find my way to the third floor room, but wasn’t having much luck. So I decided to wait and follow the next people that were looking for it. The next people happened to be Bhante G. and a professor. I don’t really know the proper greeting one should give to a Buddhist monk, but I bowed my head to him and held the elevator door open for him and allowed him to get on before me. We found the sign pointing the way to the room hanging inside the elevator and laughed together at the error in judgment on the part of the student who had hung the signs. :)
It was a very intimate gathering held in a small room on the third floor of the UC Student Union. Bhante G. was seated on a cushion on a small couch and was sitting cross-legged. He was about 5’3”, with dark brown skin, a shaved little head, and he was dressed in the orange robes of a Buddhist monk. There were two lamps on end tables on either side of the couch that served as the only lighting in the room. About 8 rows of folding chairs were set out facing the couch, I was on the second row.
His talk was on the subject of loving friendliness or what he called mehta. (Uncertain on spelling) First, he led us in a mehta meditation, which was so relaxing! He rang this little bell three times and then asked us to close our eyes, pay attention to our breathing: to the feel of our chest cavity expanding and shrinking as the air came in and out of our bodies, and to really contemplate the words that he would be speaking. And then he began, in his very soft, singsong voice, to say something a bit like this:
May no harm come to me
May no suffering come to me
May I be happy, healthy, and peaceful
May I be successful
May I find strength and courage to face the inevitable troubles, problems, and difficulties I find along life’s path.
Etc.
He went on to wish all of these things for our teachers, our families, our friends, our enemies, unfriendly people, and eventually, all people.
Whenever an outside thought of what I had to do tomorrow or if I had to do laundry or wash dishes later that night came into my mind, I immediately pushed it away and concentrated on the sound of his voice and the meaning of his words. After a few minutes I found it was no effort to focus on his words…I was deep in wishing well my fellow human beings, those who are friendly to me and those who are unfriendly. I was exuding complete goodwill. And was it ever relaxing! I felt totally content after the meditation was over…totally at peace. Like I’d just received a full body massage. And I thought, “I’ve got to do this more often! I wonder if I can take him home with me?”
With everyone feeling relaxed and peaceful, Bhante G. began his talk on mehta. Basically the principle of mehta is exactly the same as that of our Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Have love and compassion and kindness for everyone, regardless of how they behave to you. If people are angry, rude, if they swear at you, you should not respond with anger, rudeness, and equal swearing. Nope. You should have compassion for them. Why? Because those people are not normal people. Something has happened to those people to hurt them and make them put up defenses of anger, etc. Their lives have not been happy and peaceful…they have not had normal lives. So we should have compassion for them.
Sounds simple enough and very much like what I’ve heard mentioned in church all of my life. However, it’s the most difficult thing in the world to actually practice. On a good day, sure, it’s easy. But when someone stresses you out…makes you angry…it’s hard to just feel compassion. It’s hard not to yell obscenities at them. :) At least for me.
He mentioned how it is human nature for us all to make comparisons of ourselves with others so that we may understand our places in society and ourselves. He noted that most of us make negative comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are different. He says that he and his fellow monks teach that we should make positive comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are similar. It is much easier to be compassionate with someone if you feel that they are like you. :) True, true, true.
Bhante G. went on to say that we should send feelings of friendship, compassion, and love to everyone, regardless of how they treat us, not only for their sake, but also for our own. Compassion and friendliness toward others is the first step toward happiness. After all, can you be angry when you’re helping someone? No, not really. Because you’re not thinking about yourself at that moment when you’re engaged in the helping action. So being friendly brings us closer to happiness and it spreads happiness to others. This can be true even if other people are unaware of the goodwill that you're sending them or the good action that you're doing.
He illustrated this point by telling a story of a man who lived in Washington D.C. near the Washington beltway. For many years this man got up early every morning and waved to all of the people driving their cars along the beltway to work. Most people never noticed him. He was so hard to see and they were all speeding by so quickly and preoccupied by the thoughts of their days ahead of them. But someone saw him…and wondered what he was doing and why he was waving every morning. Eventually Dan Rather got wind of the story and went to interview the man. He asked the man what he was doing, waving to all of these people like that. The man replied that he was wishing them all a good morning…wishing them a safe journey to work and a happy day. Dan Rather said, “But they can’t hear you…and most of them don’t see you or just think you’re crazy if they do see you.” “It doesn’t matter”, replied the man. “I don’t want them to see me. I do this for my own satisfaction. I believe that if I am sincere in wishing them a safe journey, that my goodwill has a chance to effect the course of their lives.” That story got a huge response in the Washington area. And the people became aware that someone out there was wishing them happiness and safety. They were made happy by the goodwill and friendliness of this man and he was made happy by wishing them safety and happiness. Not only they were affected, but even when Bhante G. told this story, it made me smile and made me feel that I wanted to do similar actions of goodwill toward my fellow man. :) And perhaps it will make you feel the same when you read it. :)
He also spoke of how people truly can sense others emotions. Even if you don’t actually say anything to express your goodwill and love, others can feel it. This, he said, is usually more evident in children because they communicate more simply than adults. Adults have learned more complex forms of communication…mainly verbal…and their understanding of the world is more intellectual. Also they are often too preoccupied by their busy lives to focus on the feelings exuding from others. Children, however, are more tuned in to emotes because their understanding of the world is a more emotional understanding…their communication is not as verbally focused as that of adults. However, it still remains that adults can sense others emotions…they will just not be as aware of it as children. It will be a subconscious sensation. If adults make a conscious effort to quiet their minds, of course, they can become aware of sensing these feelings from others.
To illustrate how people can sense others emotions, especially children, he told a story of something that happened to him while in an airport in London. He was flying from London to Madrid, Spain where he was going to teach a meditation retreat. His flight was delayed several hours so he decided to use the time to do some mehta meditation. He sat cross-legged on a bench and began his meditation…sending thoughts of goodwill and safe journeys out to all of the people in the airport, etc. And after sitting there for about 30 minutes he felt someone sit down on the bench beside him. He kept meditating and did not open his eyes. A few minutes later he felt the person get up from the bench and then he felt two little arms wrap around his neck. At this point he opened his eyes and found an adorable little four year old, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl holding on to him. He had remembered seeing her earlier, walking along with her mother. Apparently she had become lost and when she couldn’t find her mother, she made her way to him. Bhante G. found it very pleasing that she came to him, but wondered why, of all people, she came to him. He said that he was probably the most strange looking individual in the whole airport. A little brown man in orange robes, sitting cross-legged, engaged in meditation on a bench. But he felt that she could sense the feelings of goodwill and love that he was sending out and came to him, knowing that he was friendly and could help her. When they finally found her mother, she had become so attached to him that she didn’t want to leave his side. He had to tell her to go with her mother before she would actually leave. :)
He told a few more interesting stories…he was very clever and was an entertaining story teller. I learned a little more about Buddhism that I didn’t know…like how Bhante believes that the feelings and thoughts that you have during the last moments of your life will effect your next life. If you are accepting and at peace with dying, you will have a peaceful next life and vice versa. The idea of accepting death, if it is obviously inevitable, makes sense to me. I’d rather have my last moments be a peaceful reflection of all of the beauty that I’ve experienced than a confused and angry struggle. As for the next life thing…well I truly don’t know what I believe about what happens after death. I was raised with the Christian belief of heaven and hell…but who knows? Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe there’s nothing…or maybe we come back. Who knows?
He also mentioned another reason for the little girl in the airport being drawn to him that I found interesting. He said that she could have been drawn to him because possibly he had had some attachment to her in a past life. The whole idea of past lives and future lives intrigues me…and I find fascinating the possibility that our connections to people in one lifetime can bleed over into another. I know that I’ve met some people in my life that I feel so familiar with, even though I’ve never met them before…or anyone like them. There have been people whose souls I feel that I recognize…and I couldn’t explain why I felt that way…and I was so inexplicably drawn to these people. So who knows, maybe it’s true?
I thoroughly enjoyed myself and I’m interested in reading his books to learn more about meditation. If I could reach that feeling of peacefulness that I did last night at least once a day, I think I might be a happier person on the whole. :) And maybe I should start waving at people on their way to work in Charleston too. :)
Seriously, I am interesting in learning more about meditation. Bhante and some other monks established a monastery in Hampshire County, WV and they hold meditation retreats. I think it would be great to go to one of these. Here’s the web address if you’re interesting in learning more:
www.bhavanasociety.org
Let me know if any of you are interested in going to a retreat with me! :)
Friday Night Buddhist
I went to hear Buddhist monk, Bhante Gunarantana, speak at University of Charleston last night. Bhante G., as most at the gathering referred to him, is a 74-year-old Theravadan monk from Sri Lanka who teaches meditation worldwide and is the author of “Mindfulness in Plain English” and “Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness”.
I had the awkward pleasure of riding up in the elevator with the evening’s speaker. I arrived early (for once) and was trying to find my way to the third floor room, but wasn’t having much luck. So I decided to wait and follow the next people that were looking for it. The next people happened to be Bhante G. and a professor. I don’t really know the proper greeting one should give to a Buddhist monk, but I bowed my head to him and held the elevator door open for him and allowed him to get on before me. We found the sign pointing the way to the room hanging inside the elevator and laughed together at the error in judgment on the part of the student who had hung the signs. :)
It was a very intimate gathering held in a small room on the third floor of the UC Student Union. Bhante G. was seated on a cushion on a small couch and was sitting cross-legged. He was about 5’3”, with dark brown skin, a shaved little head, and he was dressed in the orange robes of a Buddhist monk. There were two lamps on end tables on either side of the couch that served as the only lighting in the room. About 8 rows of folding chairs were set out facing the couch, I was on the second row.
His talk was on the subject of loving friendliness or what he called mehta. (Uncertain on spelling) First, he led us in a mehta meditation, which was so relaxing! He rang this little bell three times and then asked us to close our eyes, pay attention to our breathing: to the feel of our chest cavity expanding and shrinking as the air came in and out of our bodies, and to really contemplate the words that he would be speaking. And then he began, in his very soft, singsong voice, to say something a bit like this:
May no harm come to me
May no suffering come to me
May I be happy, healthy, and peaceful
May I be successful
May I find strength and courage to face the inevitable troubles, problems, and difficulties I find along life’s path.
Etc.
He went on to wish all of these things for our teachers, our families, our friends, our enemies, unfriendly people, and eventually, all people.
Whenever an outside thought of what I had to do tomorrow or if I had to do laundry or wash dishes later that night came into my mind, I immediately pushed it away and concentrated on the sound of his voice and the meaning of his words. After a few minutes I found it was no effort to focus on his words…I was deep in wishing well my fellow human beings, those who are friendly to me and those who are unfriendly. I was exuding complete goodwill. And was it ever relaxing! I felt totally content after the meditation was over…totally at peace. Like I’d just received a full body massage. And I thought, “I’ve got to do this more often! I wonder if I can take him home with me?”
With everyone feeling relaxed and peaceful, Bhante G. began his talk on mehta. Basically the principle of mehta is exactly the same as that of our Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Have love and compassion and kindness for everyone, regardless of how they behave to you. If people are angry, rude, if they swear at you, you should not respond with anger, rudeness, and equal swearing. Nope. You should have compassion for them. Why? Because those people are not normal people. Something has happened to those people to hurt them and make them put up defenses of anger, etc. Their lives have not been happy and peaceful…they have not had normal lives. So we should have compassion for them.
Sounds simple enough and very much like what I’ve heard mentioned in church all of my life. However, it’s the most difficult thing in the world to actually practice. On a good day, sure, it’s easy. But when someone stresses you out…makes you angry…it’s hard to just feel compassion. It’s hard not to yell obscenities at them. :) At least for me.
He mentioned how it is human nature for us all to make comparisons of ourselves with others so that we may understand our places in society and ourselves. He noted that most of us make negative comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are different. He says that he and his fellow monks teach that we should make positive comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are similar. It is much easier to be compassionate with someone if you feel that they are like you. :) True, true, true.
Bhante G. went on to say that we should send feelings of friendship, compassion, and love to everyone, regardless of how they treat us, not only for their sake, but also for our own. Compassion and friendliness toward others is the first step toward happiness. After all, can you be angry when you’re helping someone? No, not really. Because you’re not thinking about yourself at that moment when you’re engaged in the helping action. So being friendly brings us closer to happiness and it spreads happiness to others. This can be true even if other people are unaware of the goodwill that you're sending them or the good action that you're doing.
He illustrated this point by telling a story of a man who lived in Washington D.C. near the Washington beltway. For many years this man got up early every morning and waved to all of the people driving their cars along the beltway to work. Most people never noticed him. He was so hard to see and they were all speeding by so quickly and preoccupied by the thoughts of their days ahead of them. But someone saw him…and wondered what he was doing and why he was waving every morning. Eventually Dan Rather got wind of the story and went to interview the man. He asked the man what he was doing, waving to all of these people like that. The man replied that he was wishing them all a good morning…wishing them a safe journey to work and a happy day. Dan Rather said, “But they can’t hear you…and most of them don’t see you or just think you’re crazy if they do see you.” “It doesn’t matter”, replied the man. “I don’t want them to see me. I do this for my own satisfaction. I believe that if I am sincere in wishing them a safe journey, that my goodwill has a chance to effect the course of their lives.” That story got a huge response in the Washington area. And the people became aware that someone out there was wishing them happiness and safety. They were made happy by the goodwill and friendliness of this man and he was made happy by wishing them safety and happiness. Not only they were affected, but even when Bhante G. told this story, it made me smile and made me feel that I wanted to do similar actions of goodwill toward my fellow man. :) And perhaps it will make you feel the same when you read it. :)
He also spoke of how people truly can sense others emotions. Even if you don’t actually say anything to express your goodwill and love, others can feel it. This, he said, is usually more evident in children because they communicate more simply than adults. Adults have learned more complex forms of communication…mainly verbal…and their understanding of the world is more intellectual. Also they are often too preoccupied by their busy lives to focus on the feelings exuding from others. Children, however, are more tuned in to emotes because their understanding of the world is a more emotional understanding…their communication is not as verbally focused as that of adults. However, it still remains that adults can sense others emotions…they will just not be as aware of it as children. It will be a subconscious sensation. If adults make a conscious effort to quiet their minds, of course, they can become aware of sensing these feelings from others.
To illustrate how people can sense others emotions, especially children, he told a story of something that happened to him while in an airport in London. He was flying from London to Madrid, Spain where he was going to teach a meditation retreat. His flight was delayed several hours so he decided to use the time to do some mehta meditation. He sat cross-legged on a bench and began his meditation…sending thoughts of goodwill and safe journeys out to all of the people in the airport, etc. And after sitting there for about 30 minutes he felt someone sit down on the bench beside him. He kept meditating and did not open his eyes. A few minutes later he felt the person get up from the bench and then he felt two little arms wrap around his neck. At this point he opened his eyes and found an adorable little four year old, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl holding on to him. He had remembered seeing her earlier, walking along with her mother. Apparently she had become lost and when she couldn’t find her mother, she made her way to him. Bhante G. found it very pleasing that she came to him, but wondered why, of all people, she came to him. He said that he was probably the most strange looking individual in the whole airport. A little brown man in orange robes, sitting cross-legged, engaged in meditation on a bench. But he felt that she could sense the feelings of goodwill and love that he was sending out and came to him, knowing that he was friendly and could help her. When they finally found her mother, she had become so attached to him that she didn’t want to leave his side. He had to tell her to go with her mother before she would actually leave. :)
He told a few more interesting stories…he was very clever and was an entertaining story teller. I learned a little more about Buddhism that I didn’t know…like how Bhante believes that the feelings and thoughts that you have during the last moments of your life will effect your next life. If you are accepting and at peace with dying, you will have a peaceful next life and vice versa. The idea of accepting death, if it is obviously inevitable, makes sense to me. I’d rather have my last moments be a peaceful reflection of all of the beauty that I’ve experienced than a confused and angry struggle. As for the next life thing…well I truly don’t know what I believe about what happens after death. I was raised with the Christian belief of heaven and hell…but who knows? Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe there’s nothing…or maybe we come back. Who knows?
He also mentioned another reason for the little girl in the airport being drawn to him that I found interesting. He said that she could have been drawn to him because possibly he had had some attachment to her in a past life. The whole idea of past lives and future lives intrigues me…and I find fascinating the possibility that our connections to people in one lifetime can bleed over into another. I know that I’ve met some people in my life that I feel so familiar with, even though I’ve never met them before…or anyone like them. There have been people whose souls I feel that I recognize…and I couldn’t explain why I felt that way…and I was so inexplicably drawn to these people. So who knows, maybe it’s true?
I thoroughly enjoyed myself and I’m interested in reading his books to learn more about meditation. If I could reach that feeling of peacefulness that I did last night at least once a day, I think I might be a happier person on the whole. :) And maybe I should start waving at people on their way to work in Charleston too. :)
Seriously, I am interesting in learning more about meditation. Bhante and some other monks established a monastery in Hampshire County, WV and they hold meditation retreats. I think it would be great to go to one of these. Here’s the web address if you’re interesting in learning more:
www.bhavanasociety.org
Let me know if any of you are interested in going to a retreat with me! :)
Thursday, July 25, 2002
There are certain moments in a person’s life when everything seems so beautiful and you’re not afraid to believe.
Lying in the arms of the one that you love is such a moment.
I don’t know what’s coming next, but it really doesn’t matter. All that I want and need is to be here in this moment with my love, our limbs tangled together like heavy roots.
All that I need: the feel of his skin against mine, strong arms wrapped around me, his eyes, so intense and alight with passion. My heart is tight from the beauty of this moment and my soul cries, “He’s so alive! And I am truly alive! Burning and burning…and I’ve found someone who burns the way that I do! This is what life is…everything else is an illusion.”
In a moment such as this, words are unnecessary. They are too hard and will only shatter the beauty and bring reality and time crashing back into my world. And so I soak up the bliss and sweet silence as long as I can. But not all is silent. For occasionally my love or I will whisper and murmur, each vocally caressing the other: “my love”…“so beautiful”…“my love, my love”
And once again I believe in fate and destiny. I believe in truth and beauty. And I believe in love.
But words eventually must come. And with them comes reality, storming in to take possession of my world once more. And with reality comes time. And with time comes responsibility. Until I end up back here…the place where my only record of that moment of beauty and life is memory…and all I can do is wait for the next one.
"We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside
This holy reality, this holy experience.
Choosing to be here in
This body. This body holding me.
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me.
Feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion."
~ Tool from Parabola on their Lateralus CD
Lying in the arms of the one that you love is such a moment.
I don’t know what’s coming next, but it really doesn’t matter. All that I want and need is to be here in this moment with my love, our limbs tangled together like heavy roots.
All that I need: the feel of his skin against mine, strong arms wrapped around me, his eyes, so intense and alight with passion. My heart is tight from the beauty of this moment and my soul cries, “He’s so alive! And I am truly alive! Burning and burning…and I’ve found someone who burns the way that I do! This is what life is…everything else is an illusion.”
In a moment such as this, words are unnecessary. They are too hard and will only shatter the beauty and bring reality and time crashing back into my world. And so I soak up the bliss and sweet silence as long as I can. But not all is silent. For occasionally my love or I will whisper and murmur, each vocally caressing the other: “my love”…“so beautiful”…“my love, my love”
And once again I believe in fate and destiny. I believe in truth and beauty. And I believe in love.
But words eventually must come. And with them comes reality, storming in to take possession of my world once more. And with reality comes time. And with time comes responsibility. Until I end up back here…the place where my only record of that moment of beauty and life is memory…and all I can do is wait for the next one.
"We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside
This holy reality, this holy experience.
Choosing to be here in
This body. This body holding me.
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me.
Feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion."
~ Tool from Parabola on their Lateralus CD
Monday, July 22, 2002
Well, I resisted the seductive lure of Mitsubishi’s current marketing campaign. They’re currently advertising that you can get a car with no interest (ever) and no payments for a year. This is a fucking spectacular deal!!! However, you must buy a new car for the deal to apply.
As all of my friends know, I need a new car. Hell, I need a car period. I had a car once…it was an Easter Egg Blue Chevy Citation…but it decided to develop a serious oil leak and die two weeks into my freshman year at college. I got the damn thing home to my parent’s driveway and there it’s been ever since. So, on and off for the past 5 years of my college career I’ve been driving my mother’s Chevy Corsica (which has been a wonderful car with tons of power…Vrooom.! Vrooom!) or my boyfriend’s Plymouth Acclaim. I’ve been bumming for the past 5 years and honestly, I’m tired of it. My poor Mother, hasn’t had her car at all for the last 2 years and that’s just awful! She doesn’t mind…in fact, she has never complained…and my dad is there to take her wherever she needs to go, so it’s not like she’s totally stuck. But I still feel horrible and grateful all at the same time.
The point is that I’ve been thinking that I need a car of my own and this deal was just so tempting. However, after careful analysis of my projected financial state for the next 5 years, I decided that a new car…even one with no fucking interest and no fucking payments for a year…is a bad idea. I simply can’t afford it and go to college too. I’d need a full-time job just to nail the payment, let alone the cost of insurance.
The sad thing is that Mitsubishi almost nailed my ass…they almost got me. And I would’ve had a sweet car but no M.A…and I would be working a job with no chance for advancement or pay increase.
It’s amazing and scary at how strong the lure of possessions can be. We convince ourselves and corporations convince us that we need possessions. If you just had this new car, then you’d be cool…if we just had this new stereo system, then we could feel good about ourselves. And once we meet that first compulsion, it becomes easier to give in the next time. So we buy bigger, better, and more expensive merchandise. We become good little consumers.
It’s truly fucking scary. Because the reality is that all of our possessions are going to be worth nothing one day. We can’t take them with us when we die…what’s valuable to us will not necessarily be valuable to our children…and owning certain things simply doesn’t make any difference in your worth or the type of person that you are. They are just things.
Another facet of reality is that, in today’s society, some of these things (like cars) we do actually need to function effectively. If I didn’t have a car, I would have to walk several miles to a bus stop so that I could get to work. So that my life runs more efficiently, I need a car. So that I don’t feel so horrible over having my mother’s car, I need to give her car back to her and buy one of my own. However, I would be happy to settle for a nice $3000 number…something that will serve its function, nothing more and nothing less. And that way I can still afford to go to grad school and everybody’s happy.
Yay! Don't you feel better for having read this? :)
As all of my friends know, I need a new car. Hell, I need a car period. I had a car once…it was an Easter Egg Blue Chevy Citation…but it decided to develop a serious oil leak and die two weeks into my freshman year at college. I got the damn thing home to my parent’s driveway and there it’s been ever since. So, on and off for the past 5 years of my college career I’ve been driving my mother’s Chevy Corsica (which has been a wonderful car with tons of power…Vrooom.! Vrooom!) or my boyfriend’s Plymouth Acclaim. I’ve been bumming for the past 5 years and honestly, I’m tired of it. My poor Mother, hasn’t had her car at all for the last 2 years and that’s just awful! She doesn’t mind…in fact, she has never complained…and my dad is there to take her wherever she needs to go, so it’s not like she’s totally stuck. But I still feel horrible and grateful all at the same time.
The point is that I’ve been thinking that I need a car of my own and this deal was just so tempting. However, after careful analysis of my projected financial state for the next 5 years, I decided that a new car…even one with no fucking interest and no fucking payments for a year…is a bad idea. I simply can’t afford it and go to college too. I’d need a full-time job just to nail the payment, let alone the cost of insurance.
The sad thing is that Mitsubishi almost nailed my ass…they almost got me. And I would’ve had a sweet car but no M.A…and I would be working a job with no chance for advancement or pay increase.
It’s amazing and scary at how strong the lure of possessions can be. We convince ourselves and corporations convince us that we need possessions. If you just had this new car, then you’d be cool…if we just had this new stereo system, then we could feel good about ourselves. And once we meet that first compulsion, it becomes easier to give in the next time. So we buy bigger, better, and more expensive merchandise. We become good little consumers.
It’s truly fucking scary. Because the reality is that all of our possessions are going to be worth nothing one day. We can’t take them with us when we die…what’s valuable to us will not necessarily be valuable to our children…and owning certain things simply doesn’t make any difference in your worth or the type of person that you are. They are just things.
Another facet of reality is that, in today’s society, some of these things (like cars) we do actually need to function effectively. If I didn’t have a car, I would have to walk several miles to a bus stop so that I could get to work. So that my life runs more efficiently, I need a car. So that I don’t feel so horrible over having my mother’s car, I need to give her car back to her and buy one of my own. However, I would be happy to settle for a nice $3000 number…something that will serve its function, nothing more and nothing less. And that way I can still afford to go to grad school and everybody’s happy.
Yay! Don't you feel better for having read this? :)
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
Afraid of Women
Women totally baffle me. And the fact that I am one makes this very strange, I know. But I’m recognizing the fact that I’m very wary of other women. A bit frightened by them, in fact.
Whenever I meet new females I’m instantly on my guard. In a social situation around new females I usually just sit back and observe. I’m cordial…I make pleasant conversation…but I never have the desire to pursue the relationship.
So, I ask myself why am I so fucking edgy around other ladies?
The first answer that comes to mind is, “I don’t trust them”. Don’t trust them in respect to what? Do I feel that these females threaten my relationship with Ben? No…not really. I’m pretty secure there.
So what don’t I trust them with? My secrets…my thoughts…my heart. Women can be extremely vicious creatures…downright malevolent. A woman will do wrong to another woman that which a man would never even dream of doing to another man. So I suppose I’m afraid to get close to one…afraid she’ll hurt me because she got angry with me for some petty reason. And honestly any relationship with a typical woman takes so much effort…effort that I simply don’t have time to give. God, and the conversations that most women want to have are simply gossip or about love relationships. Over and over and over again they’ll rip apart the last meetings with their crush, analyzing every little detail to fucking death. It’s tiring. And gossip just makes me want to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I still have the occasional need to
pour out my heart to someone uninvolved concerning a relationship issue. We all need someone to talk to at sometime. It's great to have a soundingboard. But to have that be your only conversation each and every time? Jesus!
Men, however, I understand. Men are so much easier. They (usually) won’t divulge anything you tell them in confidence just for a bit of juicy conversation (like a woman will). They don’t take a ton of effort either. You can go without seeing one of you guy friends for a month or more and when you are reunited, you will be pretty much on the same note that you were the last time you saw them. With a chick it can be this way…but it usually isn’t. And men don’t (usually) gossip…and they will ask your opinion on a love relationship once and once you give your opinion, they let it go. Lovely. No stress. Plus men like to DO things. And their conversation will involve things outside of love relationships and gossip, like books, movies, music, etc.
The one close girl friend that I had was very much like me. Her name is Nikki. We usually got along better with men…and we were a bit surprised when we found each other. She was a sister…a kindred spirit…and I loved her very much. I still love her, but I miss her.
I moved to Huntington to go to Marshall and she stayed home and went to a community college. The first couple of years, we still managed to stay in touch. I would drive down to visit my family on the weekends and would go and see her while I was there. And we would email. (She was never very good at replying.) And I would call her. Her parents were very controlling, unreasonable people who felt that I was a bad influence on her because I told her to stand up to them more than she did. They treated her like a child and she was their little whipping girl. I remember her mother making her clean the bathroom and kitchen before she could come and stay the night with me. These were more than normal chores that she was given. They were deterrents. Her parents thought that if they put enough obstacles in our way, we’d just give up on being friends. But they were wrong. She’d do what was required and sometimes I’d drive down and help her clean and then we’d go back to my house.
(I used to get so upset with her parents, but I realize that they were doing what they thought was best for her at the time. And perhaps it was. Perhaps I was a bad influence. I know they didn’t want her to end up like me, psychotic and living in sin.)
I could be myself with her. That’s one thing that I never had with any of the other shallow friendships that I had before her. To be as fucking goofy as I wanted to be. To have moments of stupidity and air headedness and she accepted me in spite of it. To be serious and contemplate life and it’s meaning. To think aloud and express my desires. I didn’t have to be a magazine…I could be real. And that was so refreshing. I can’t tell you how much I miss that.
The third and fourth years I was at school our communications dropped off drastically. I was working a lot and my course work increased in difficulty…so I honestly didn’t have the time to go home as often. I probably made it home about once every 2 or 3 months…and that time I spent with the family, of course.
I would call when I was home, but she was working a lot then too so it was hard to get hold of her. Sometimes I would be successful and we’d talk for a bit…or I’d go visit her at work.
She worked at Wal-Mart in Beckley as one of those people that puts misplaced merchandise back in the proper place. She handled the Health and Beauty section. Her shift was from 4pm or 5pm to midnight or beyond, depending on how quickly she finished. I used to go up to Wal-Mart and help her restock and straighten the shelves in her department, just so she could get out and we could spend some time together.
We’d spend the night with each other or we’d go somewhere and grab some food and chat. Once we got two bottles of Arbor Mist and got drunk at the bottom of my hill. We had parked just off the road in a well-known make-out location. People kept driving by and honking or yelling, “Get some!!” We thought it was so fucking hilarious.
When at school I emailed, but I had less time to do that. In addition to work and school, I was also in a depression the third and forth years. The depression factor made me less motivated to do anything…so everything was a struggle. I don’t know how I did it really. I don’t think I was consciously aware of being depressed then…I just kept saying that I was tired and stressed out. The one thing that motivated me was that I knew Ben was depressed and I was part of the reason that he was in depression…and I had a responsibility to see him well and on his feet again. To mend what had been broken. And so I pushed and pushed and pushed. By the forth year, poor Nikki was lost in all of my emotional muck and mire. And I was too emotionally crazy and exhausted at this time to realize that I missed her. I was just trying to survive tomorrow.
And last year was pretty much the same. It was pretty stressful as far as school and finances were concerned…but Ben was doing better. And I was starting to realize that I had been depressed…that I was, in fact, still in a bit of a depression. By this time, I never heard from Nikki. The last couple of times I had any contact with her was after Ben’s father passed away…she sent me an email letting me know how sorry she was…. and she sent me pictures of her brother’s new baby girl.
During our times of silence her grandmother passed away and I wasn’t able to go to the funeral or be there for her. We had a couple of phone conversations and I tried to comfort her as she had comforted me just a few months earlier when my grandmother had died. But I wasn’t able to be there…I was too busy, busy, busy…and I feel like I failed her. I’m so sorry, Nikki.
I’ve always known that we grow up and as we grow up leave things from out past behind us. That’s part of life. I just really wasn’t prepared to leave Nikki behind. She’s the only woman, besides my sister, that I’ve ever trusted. And I miss her.
Women totally baffle me. And the fact that I am one makes this very strange, I know. But I’m recognizing the fact that I’m very wary of other women. A bit frightened by them, in fact.
Whenever I meet new females I’m instantly on my guard. In a social situation around new females I usually just sit back and observe. I’m cordial…I make pleasant conversation…but I never have the desire to pursue the relationship.
So, I ask myself why am I so fucking edgy around other ladies?
The first answer that comes to mind is, “I don’t trust them”. Don’t trust them in respect to what? Do I feel that these females threaten my relationship with Ben? No…not really. I’m pretty secure there.
So what don’t I trust them with? My secrets…my thoughts…my heart. Women can be extremely vicious creatures…downright malevolent. A woman will do wrong to another woman that which a man would never even dream of doing to another man. So I suppose I’m afraid to get close to one…afraid she’ll hurt me because she got angry with me for some petty reason. And honestly any relationship with a typical woman takes so much effort…effort that I simply don’t have time to give. God, and the conversations that most women want to have are simply gossip or about love relationships. Over and over and over again they’ll rip apart the last meetings with their crush, analyzing every little detail to fucking death. It’s tiring. And gossip just makes me want to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I still have the occasional need to
pour out my heart to someone uninvolved concerning a relationship issue. We all need someone to talk to at sometime. It's great to have a soundingboard. But to have that be your only conversation each and every time? Jesus!
Men, however, I understand. Men are so much easier. They (usually) won’t divulge anything you tell them in confidence just for a bit of juicy conversation (like a woman will). They don’t take a ton of effort either. You can go without seeing one of you guy friends for a month or more and when you are reunited, you will be pretty much on the same note that you were the last time you saw them. With a chick it can be this way…but it usually isn’t. And men don’t (usually) gossip…and they will ask your opinion on a love relationship once and once you give your opinion, they let it go. Lovely. No stress. Plus men like to DO things. And their conversation will involve things outside of love relationships and gossip, like books, movies, music, etc.
The one close girl friend that I had was very much like me. Her name is Nikki. We usually got along better with men…and we were a bit surprised when we found each other. She was a sister…a kindred spirit…and I loved her very much. I still love her, but I miss her.
I moved to Huntington to go to Marshall and she stayed home and went to a community college. The first couple of years, we still managed to stay in touch. I would drive down to visit my family on the weekends and would go and see her while I was there. And we would email. (She was never very good at replying.) And I would call her. Her parents were very controlling, unreasonable people who felt that I was a bad influence on her because I told her to stand up to them more than she did. They treated her like a child and she was their little whipping girl. I remember her mother making her clean the bathroom and kitchen before she could come and stay the night with me. These were more than normal chores that she was given. They were deterrents. Her parents thought that if they put enough obstacles in our way, we’d just give up on being friends. But they were wrong. She’d do what was required and sometimes I’d drive down and help her clean and then we’d go back to my house.
(I used to get so upset with her parents, but I realize that they were doing what they thought was best for her at the time. And perhaps it was. Perhaps I was a bad influence. I know they didn’t want her to end up like me, psychotic and living in sin.)
I could be myself with her. That’s one thing that I never had with any of the other shallow friendships that I had before her. To be as fucking goofy as I wanted to be. To have moments of stupidity and air headedness and she accepted me in spite of it. To be serious and contemplate life and it’s meaning. To think aloud and express my desires. I didn’t have to be a magazine…I could be real. And that was so refreshing. I can’t tell you how much I miss that.
The third and fourth years I was at school our communications dropped off drastically. I was working a lot and my course work increased in difficulty…so I honestly didn’t have the time to go home as often. I probably made it home about once every 2 or 3 months…and that time I spent with the family, of course.
I would call when I was home, but she was working a lot then too so it was hard to get hold of her. Sometimes I would be successful and we’d talk for a bit…or I’d go visit her at work.
She worked at Wal-Mart in Beckley as one of those people that puts misplaced merchandise back in the proper place. She handled the Health and Beauty section. Her shift was from 4pm or 5pm to midnight or beyond, depending on how quickly she finished. I used to go up to Wal-Mart and help her restock and straighten the shelves in her department, just so she could get out and we could spend some time together.
We’d spend the night with each other or we’d go somewhere and grab some food and chat. Once we got two bottles of Arbor Mist and got drunk at the bottom of my hill. We had parked just off the road in a well-known make-out location. People kept driving by and honking or yelling, “Get some!!” We thought it was so fucking hilarious.
When at school I emailed, but I had less time to do that. In addition to work and school, I was also in a depression the third and forth years. The depression factor made me less motivated to do anything…so everything was a struggle. I don’t know how I did it really. I don’t think I was consciously aware of being depressed then…I just kept saying that I was tired and stressed out. The one thing that motivated me was that I knew Ben was depressed and I was part of the reason that he was in depression…and I had a responsibility to see him well and on his feet again. To mend what had been broken. And so I pushed and pushed and pushed. By the forth year, poor Nikki was lost in all of my emotional muck and mire. And I was too emotionally crazy and exhausted at this time to realize that I missed her. I was just trying to survive tomorrow.
And last year was pretty much the same. It was pretty stressful as far as school and finances were concerned…but Ben was doing better. And I was starting to realize that I had been depressed…that I was, in fact, still in a bit of a depression. By this time, I never heard from Nikki. The last couple of times I had any contact with her was after Ben’s father passed away…she sent me an email letting me know how sorry she was…. and she sent me pictures of her brother’s new baby girl.
During our times of silence her grandmother passed away and I wasn’t able to go to the funeral or be there for her. We had a couple of phone conversations and I tried to comfort her as she had comforted me just a few months earlier when my grandmother had died. But I wasn’t able to be there…I was too busy, busy, busy…and I feel like I failed her. I’m so sorry, Nikki.
I’ve always known that we grow up and as we grow up leave things from out past behind us. That’s part of life. I just really wasn’t prepared to leave Nikki behind. She’s the only woman, besides my sister, that I’ve ever trusted. And I miss her.
Wednesday, July 10, 2002
So I'm not dead. The dizziness passd and I lived and all that shiznit.
What I am, however, is so so so fucking tired. Always, I'm tired. I can never seem
to get enough rest, because I simply don't have enough time. I work all day and
then go work out and then come home and eat...by that time its 9PM, so I only have
an hour or two to do something enjoyable or to get household chores done.
But lately I haven't been getting enough sleep because I've been doing chores plus
watching movies or messing around on my computer until midnight or beyond.
And my weekends...hah! It seems like someone else always has a plan for my
weekend. Either my mom or some other family member that I really can't say no
to asks me to do something for or with them. So I use my time to make them
happy, and although I might enjoy myself a bit in these suggested or forced
activities, I'm not truly happy with time spent in that way because I didn't
choose to spend it in that way. It was chosen for me. Grrrrrr!!!
Being tired is bad enough, but spending most of my time doing thing I don't really
want to do is driving me fucking nutz! We have one chance here on earth. One
life. One. And time goes so fast! I'm just afraid of wasting time, I guess. Afraid
of becoming stagnant. Afraid of not living and touching and tasting more of life.
God, I need a change...and soon. Or maybe a nice, relaxing vacation would do
the trick.
*sigh* I'm sorry for bitching. I'm just sleepy. I need to go dream of happy stuff
and then it will all seem okay.
Bye-Bye.
What I am, however, is so so so fucking tired. Always, I'm tired. I can never seem
to get enough rest, because I simply don't have enough time. I work all day and
then go work out and then come home and eat...by that time its 9PM, so I only have
an hour or two to do something enjoyable or to get household chores done.
But lately I haven't been getting enough sleep because I've been doing chores plus
watching movies or messing around on my computer until midnight or beyond.
And my weekends...hah! It seems like someone else always has a plan for my
weekend. Either my mom or some other family member that I really can't say no
to asks me to do something for or with them. So I use my time to make them
happy, and although I might enjoy myself a bit in these suggested or forced
activities, I'm not truly happy with time spent in that way because I didn't
choose to spend it in that way. It was chosen for me. Grrrrrr!!!
Being tired is bad enough, but spending most of my time doing thing I don't really
want to do is driving me fucking nutz! We have one chance here on earth. One
life. One. And time goes so fast! I'm just afraid of wasting time, I guess. Afraid
of becoming stagnant. Afraid of not living and touching and tasting more of life.
God, I need a change...and soon. Or maybe a nice, relaxing vacation would do
the trick.
*sigh* I'm sorry for bitching. I'm just sleepy. I need to go dream of happy stuff
and then it will all seem okay.
Bye-Bye.
Sunday, July 07, 2002
My head feels so strange….
Ben and I went to the St. Albans fireworks display tonight. As I was walking back toward the car, I noticed that I wasn’t quite steady on my feet. This wouldn’t be a big deal if I had had some alcohol…but I haven’t had any today!
God, I feel fucked up. I try to look at one thing and the image just twists and spins, like when I’m drunk. The funny thing is that I was planning on getting smashed when I got home…but now I’m too frightened to do so.
The only thing I had to eat out of the ordinary today was pizza from Papa Johns…maybe someone was being funny and drugged me. What a lovely thought. Or maybe a little bug that was carrying a plague of some sort has bitten me, infecting me with a disease that will cause my flesh to break and split and slowly fall from my body. The possibilities are endless.
Ben and I went to the St. Albans fireworks display tonight. As I was walking back toward the car, I noticed that I wasn’t quite steady on my feet. This wouldn’t be a big deal if I had had some alcohol…but I haven’t had any today!
God, I feel fucked up. I try to look at one thing and the image just twists and spins, like when I’m drunk. The funny thing is that I was planning on getting smashed when I got home…but now I’m too frightened to do so.
The only thing I had to eat out of the ordinary today was pizza from Papa Johns…maybe someone was being funny and drugged me. What a lovely thought. Or maybe a little bug that was carrying a plague of some sort has bitten me, infecting me with a disease that will cause my flesh to break and split and slowly fall from my body. The possibilities are endless.
Friday, July 05, 2002
Hey folks...I'm afraid I don't have much to say.
This lyric was running through my head all day, so I thought the only logical thing to do was to post it! After I heard her sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow , I was intrigued by her airy, whimsical voice. So then I listened to this song, Hey Jupiter (The Dakota Version), and fell in love with the lyric. I hope you like it. (Download it! Download it! Listen to the purty music!!!)
Toodles!
~Ina
No one's picking up the phone, guess it's me and me.
And this little masochist, she's ready to confess,
All the things that I never thought that she could feel and,
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
And I thought I wouldn't have to be with you... something new.
Sometimes I breath you in, and I know you know.
And sometimes you take a swim, found your writing on my wall.
Well, if my hearts soaking wet, boy your boots can leave a mess.
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
And I thought you wouldn't have to keep with me, hiding.
Thought I knew myself so well, all the dolls I had.
Took my leather off the shelf, your apocalypse was fab.
For a girl who couldn't choose between the shower or the bath.
And I thought I wouldn't have to be with you, a magazine.
No one's picking up the phone, guess it's clear he's gone.
And this little masochist is lifting up her dress.
Guess I thought I could never feel things I feel and,
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
I go from day to day.
I know where the cupboards are.
I know where the car is parked.
I know he isn't you.
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you safe, now we're through?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
Hey Jupiter...
~ By Tori Amos from Hey Jupiter (The Dakota Version) on her Hey Jupiter Single
This lyric was running through my head all day, so I thought the only logical thing to do was to post it! After I heard her sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow , I was intrigued by her airy, whimsical voice. So then I listened to this song, Hey Jupiter (The Dakota Version), and fell in love with the lyric. I hope you like it. (Download it! Download it! Listen to the purty music!!!)
Toodles!
~Ina
No one's picking up the phone, guess it's me and me.
And this little masochist, she's ready to confess,
All the things that I never thought that she could feel and,
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
And I thought I wouldn't have to be with you... something new.
Sometimes I breath you in, and I know you know.
And sometimes you take a swim, found your writing on my wall.
Well, if my hearts soaking wet, boy your boots can leave a mess.
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
And I thought you wouldn't have to keep with me, hiding.
Thought I knew myself so well, all the dolls I had.
Took my leather off the shelf, your apocalypse was fab.
For a girl who couldn't choose between the shower or the bath.
And I thought I wouldn't have to be with you, a magazine.
No one's picking up the phone, guess it's clear he's gone.
And this little masochist is lifting up her dress.
Guess I thought I could never feel things I feel and,
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you gay, are you blue?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
I go from day to day.
I know where the cupboards are.
I know where the car is parked.
I know he isn't you.
Hey Jupiter, nothing's been the same.
So are you safe, now we're through?
Thought we both could use a friend to run to.
Hey Jupiter...
~ By Tori Amos from Hey Jupiter (The Dakota Version) on her Hey Jupiter Single
Saturday, June 29, 2002
There was no warning. It could have just as easily been me.
As I pulled up to the beginning of that sharp curve in Shadyside Road, I saw a stopped car and beyond that red, twisted metal and broken glass that once was a red car. I fearfully got out of my car, and walked up to the wreckage to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
The man who had been driving the red car was not hurt, but his clothes were speckled with blood from the bits of glass that had dug into his skin. He was about 40 years old, and his worried, startled forehead wrinkled in a sexy kind of way. There was a cut there on his brow and another one on his left cheek, with small streams of red flowing down his face. He said that he had been wearing his glasses and was worried about having glass in his eyes. We found a towel in his car and I helped him to stop the slight bleeding and clean up a bit. After that he couldn’t stand still and began pacing back and forth in the middle of the road. I asked the lady in the car behind me to call 911 and then I went back to talk to the man.
And then all the lights came flashing. Blue and yellow. White and red. Incessantly flashing. And in their flashing I felt the question:
Is anybody hurt?
Another car, further ahead in the turn, was up on the left shoulder of the road…nearly up on the railroad tracks. It had come to rest on its side, with headlights gazing in directions that they should not. I could not see the color in the dark, but I could see the smoke pouring out from the wreckage. And I was too afraid to walk up to it. Too afraid of what I might find. Lucky for me, the people in the green car just ahead of me had decided to do what I was afraid to do. To walk up and ask:
Is anybody hurt?
Cars in a row, waiting behind me with headlights glaring.
One by one those lights dimmed and the people got out of their cars, one by one.
A sporadic procession came forth. A waitress in her brown apron and then a cashier in her bright red smock. An older couple in khaki shorts holding hands. A middle-aged mother and her pre-teen daughter. A man with his infant son. All of them walking down the side of the road to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
More lights came. All orange now. They announced the arrival of a couple of wrecking trucks come to tow the crushed vehicles away.
But the thing that struck me the most about the whole incident was the quiet. When I first arrived there was nothing but the sounds of the crickets and my car engine. Even after the police came, and the firefighters, and the paramedics, and even the wreckers, all that you could hear were the sounds of crickets chirping, the calm, professional voices of the emergency crew, and the steady rumble of engines.
And somehow I never found out if anyone was hurt.
As I pulled up to the beginning of that sharp curve in Shadyside Road, I saw a stopped car and beyond that red, twisted metal and broken glass that once was a red car. I fearfully got out of my car, and walked up to the wreckage to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
The man who had been driving the red car was not hurt, but his clothes were speckled with blood from the bits of glass that had dug into his skin. He was about 40 years old, and his worried, startled forehead wrinkled in a sexy kind of way. There was a cut there on his brow and another one on his left cheek, with small streams of red flowing down his face. He said that he had been wearing his glasses and was worried about having glass in his eyes. We found a towel in his car and I helped him to stop the slight bleeding and clean up a bit. After that he couldn’t stand still and began pacing back and forth in the middle of the road. I asked the lady in the car behind me to call 911 and then I went back to talk to the man.
And then all the lights came flashing. Blue and yellow. White and red. Incessantly flashing. And in their flashing I felt the question:
Is anybody hurt?
Another car, further ahead in the turn, was up on the left shoulder of the road…nearly up on the railroad tracks. It had come to rest on its side, with headlights gazing in directions that they should not. I could not see the color in the dark, but I could see the smoke pouring out from the wreckage. And I was too afraid to walk up to it. Too afraid of what I might find. Lucky for me, the people in the green car just ahead of me had decided to do what I was afraid to do. To walk up and ask:
Is anybody hurt?
Cars in a row, waiting behind me with headlights glaring.
One by one those lights dimmed and the people got out of their cars, one by one.
A sporadic procession came forth. A waitress in her brown apron and then a cashier in her bright red smock. An older couple in khaki shorts holding hands. A middle-aged mother and her pre-teen daughter. A man with his infant son. All of them walking down the side of the road to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
More lights came. All orange now. They announced the arrival of a couple of wrecking trucks come to tow the crushed vehicles away.
But the thing that struck me the most about the whole incident was the quiet. When I first arrived there was nothing but the sounds of the crickets and my car engine. Even after the police came, and the firefighters, and the paramedics, and even the wreckers, all that you could hear were the sounds of crickets chirping, the calm, professional voices of the emergency crew, and the steady rumble of engines.
And somehow I never found out if anyone was hurt.
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Merrily, merrily, merrily...Life is but a dream...
Dreams. Dreams are strange, strange things.
Some dreams are pure whimsy and nonsense…just my brain letting off steam.
Others are directly related to the desires and/or fears of my waking life.
Some that I’ve had have been prophetic. Others…the Nightmares…are just
pure terror that by brain throws together to make sure that my heart can still
race with fright. There are some that seem so close to reality, you’d swear
you really did the things you dreamed. And then there are those that are just
plain humorous. So humorous, in fact, that I sometimes wake myself up laughing.:)
I had one such dream a couple of nights ago. I think I scared the shit out of Ben, breaking the quiet of the morning with my full, body-shaking laughter. I suppose it must be kind of creepy…everything being still and then the person sleeping beside you bursts into laughter for no apparent reason. :) Poor guy.
Anyway, I’m blogging this because I know you guys will get a kick out of the dream.
Don’t worry…no one is being skinned in this one.
The dream begins with Ben and I walking through the door of our friends’ new apartment in Lexington. We’ve come to visit and help the boys get settled into their new place. Shawn went out to pick up some pizza for us all to munch on, so only Ken and Chris are there when we arrive.
It seems like a nice, very large apartment with two levels, beige carpet, and off-white walls. Ben and I walk into the living room to find Chris sitting on a plump, blue sofa and Ken sitting on the floor. It appears that they’ve both broken into a bottle of some sort of liquor. (Scotch?) And Ken is pretty well drunk, while Chris seems fairly sober. The boys have just moved in so there are boxes everywhere, some unopened, some half-unpacked, some totally empty except for packing peanuts and newspaper.
After everyone greets everyone, Ben and I sit with them and chat. We haven’t had any dinner so we’re all really hungry. In fact, on the way in Ben and I were so hungry we stopped and bought a box of generic cereal at a gas station. It was a cereal sort of like Fruity Peebles (just as colorful and fruity) but it also had brightly colored marshmallow dinosaurs in it. So I’m still munching on this cereal as we’re talking, waiting on Shawn to come back w/ the pizza.
Well, in a fit of silliness, Chris jerks the box from my hands, sending a bit of the cereal flying up into the air, to land on him and on the couch. He then starts mocking the fact that I have generic cereal…and then makes fun of the toy that the box says is inside. The toy is some sort of little man.
“There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!” Chris repeats over and over with a crazed look in his eye and a high-pitched squeak to his voice.
Ken takes up the chant and then holds his index finger, pointed skyward, in front of his mouth and lets out a loud, “SSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
Then he dramatically stands up and takes the box from Chris’s hands and holds it up close to his face.
“Don’t you see?” he says. “There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!”
And then he throws the cereal down and runs and jumps head first into a large box at the far end of the room. As Ken’s mass pushes into the box, little white packing peanuts come violently flying out. Once Ken’s dive is done, all you can see of him are his legs and feet hanging out of the box. He makes no move to get out and just lays there cackling.
Ben, Chris, and I are rolling with laughter. And this is when I woke myself up actually laughing.
Okay…so maybe it’s not all that funny. Maybe you just had to be there. :)
At any rate, we can now proceed to the dream analysis. What does the generic cereal represent? What do the packing peanuts represent? NOT A GODDAMNED THING IF NOT CEREAL AND MOTHA’ FUCKING PACKING PEANUTS!!!!!
You see, this dream is about having fun being silly with my friends. It means that I miss my friends and anticipate the day that we’re all a little closer together so that we can do stupid shit together! :)
I love you guys and I miss you!!!! Here’s to good times in the future!!!!!
Dreams. Dreams are strange, strange things.
Some dreams are pure whimsy and nonsense…just my brain letting off steam.
Others are directly related to the desires and/or fears of my waking life.
Some that I’ve had have been prophetic. Others…the Nightmares…are just
pure terror that by brain throws together to make sure that my heart can still
race with fright. There are some that seem so close to reality, you’d swear
you really did the things you dreamed. And then there are those that are just
plain humorous. So humorous, in fact, that I sometimes wake myself up laughing.:)
I had one such dream a couple of nights ago. I think I scared the shit out of Ben, breaking the quiet of the morning with my full, body-shaking laughter. I suppose it must be kind of creepy…everything being still and then the person sleeping beside you bursts into laughter for no apparent reason. :) Poor guy.
Anyway, I’m blogging this because I know you guys will get a kick out of the dream.
Don’t worry…no one is being skinned in this one.
The dream begins with Ben and I walking through the door of our friends’ new apartment in Lexington. We’ve come to visit and help the boys get settled into their new place. Shawn went out to pick up some pizza for us all to munch on, so only Ken and Chris are there when we arrive.
It seems like a nice, very large apartment with two levels, beige carpet, and off-white walls. Ben and I walk into the living room to find Chris sitting on a plump, blue sofa and Ken sitting on the floor. It appears that they’ve both broken into a bottle of some sort of liquor. (Scotch?) And Ken is pretty well drunk, while Chris seems fairly sober. The boys have just moved in so there are boxes everywhere, some unopened, some half-unpacked, some totally empty except for packing peanuts and newspaper.
After everyone greets everyone, Ben and I sit with them and chat. We haven’t had any dinner so we’re all really hungry. In fact, on the way in Ben and I were so hungry we stopped and bought a box of generic cereal at a gas station. It was a cereal sort of like Fruity Peebles (just as colorful and fruity) but it also had brightly colored marshmallow dinosaurs in it. So I’m still munching on this cereal as we’re talking, waiting on Shawn to come back w/ the pizza.
Well, in a fit of silliness, Chris jerks the box from my hands, sending a bit of the cereal flying up into the air, to land on him and on the couch. He then starts mocking the fact that I have generic cereal…and then makes fun of the toy that the box says is inside. The toy is some sort of little man.
“There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!” Chris repeats over and over with a crazed look in his eye and a high-pitched squeak to his voice.
Ken takes up the chant and then holds his index finger, pointed skyward, in front of his mouth and lets out a loud, “SSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
Then he dramatically stands up and takes the box from Chris’s hands and holds it up close to his face.
“Don’t you see?” he says. “There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!”
And then he throws the cereal down and runs and jumps head first into a large box at the far end of the room. As Ken’s mass pushes into the box, little white packing peanuts come violently flying out. Once Ken’s dive is done, all you can see of him are his legs and feet hanging out of the box. He makes no move to get out and just lays there cackling.
Ben, Chris, and I are rolling with laughter. And this is when I woke myself up actually laughing.
Okay…so maybe it’s not all that funny. Maybe you just had to be there. :)
At any rate, we can now proceed to the dream analysis. What does the generic cereal represent? What do the packing peanuts represent? NOT A GODDAMNED THING IF NOT CEREAL AND MOTHA’ FUCKING PACKING PEANUTS!!!!!
You see, this dream is about having fun being silly with my friends. It means that I miss my friends and anticipate the day that we’re all a little closer together so that we can do stupid shit together! :)
I love you guys and I miss you!!!! Here’s to good times in the future!!!!!
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Today was Ben’s 25th birthday. We had a cookout at his Mom’s house, with his
entire family and some of mine. On the whole it was a very enjoyable day and,
of course, the food was fantastic and plentiful. :)
There was volleyball and badminton and there were water guns. And there
were mothers and fathers and children and babies. And there was cake
with ice cream and a table loaded with presents. And margaritas!!!!
Tonight, after everyone had gone home, Shawn, Ben, Charlotte, and I sat
out on the screened-in back porch and talked and told each other jokes
and laughed. The moon was so full and bright so the sky was a deep,
midnight blue…not black. The fireflies were furiously sparkling in the
trees and the grass. :) When I saw that I thought, “No wonder people
believed in faeries.”
It was a good day.
Happy Birthday, Baby.
“Into your arms I will run
Soft limbs browned by the sun
And in your heart I will hide
Gleaning peace from the love in your eyes.”
~ c.g. from Not a god
entire family and some of mine. On the whole it was a very enjoyable day and,
of course, the food was fantastic and plentiful. :)
There was volleyball and badminton and there were water guns. And there
were mothers and fathers and children and babies. And there was cake
with ice cream and a table loaded with presents. And margaritas!!!!
Tonight, after everyone had gone home, Shawn, Ben, Charlotte, and I sat
out on the screened-in back porch and talked and told each other jokes
and laughed. The moon was so full and bright so the sky was a deep,
midnight blue…not black. The fireflies were furiously sparkling in the
trees and the grass. :) When I saw that I thought, “No wonder people
believed in faeries.”
It was a good day.
Happy Birthday, Baby.
“Into your arms I will run
Soft limbs browned by the sun
And in your heart I will hide
Gleaning peace from the love in your eyes.”
~ c.g. from Not a god
Thursday, June 20, 2002
Dream A Little Dream
And so my fucked up nightmares seem to have started up again. For those of you
not familiar with the nightmares I've had in the past...well let's just say that they
can get pretty horrifying and gory.
Anyway, last night I had this dream that I was hanging out at mine and Ben's
apartment with these three chicks and we were maybe a little younger than I
am now. Maybe 19 or so? And so, this guy comes over that was, at one
time, involved with one of these girls in a love relationship. (Keep in mind that
I have no idea who these women are. Not real life friends at all.)
The guy had ended the relationship with this girl in a bad way and she was a
bit pissed about the whole thing, but showing a friendly front to him. So
these people are all in my living room chatting and laughing and I go down-
stairs for something. I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear the sounds of
struggle coming from upstairs and I hear the guy let out a horrible scream.
I'm too stunned to do anything and too terrified, so I just back up against the
wall and slide down and listen to my friends murder this guy in my living room.
When I do finally go upstairs, somehow all the blood has been cleaned up
and the body has been disposed of. The only thing that remains is a large
sack which contains the guy's possessions and clothing...and his skin.
The girls skinned him after they killed him. My friend asks me to keep this
sack until she can come back for it and I, disoriented and too terrified
to say no, agree.
I put the sack in the back of the little closet in the living room, with the
beanbag, stuffed animals, and Christmas wrapping paper. I'm very paranoid
...terrified that Ben will find out and hate me. Terrified that the police will find
out. Terrified at what I was doing...covering up a murder that was committed
in my house by my friend.
Being paranoid, I act all freaky when Ben goes to get something out of that
closet a few days later.He knows that I'm hiding something from him in
there and decides to search the whole thing. He eventually finds the bag
with the human skin. It's getting a little rank, now too.
He is obviously disgusted, frightened, and angry with me at first. Then I
explained what happened, and how fast it all happened, and how I just
didn't know what to do. So he believes me and decides to help me.
Then we started to consider our options. Could we go to the police?
Would the police believe us if we told them about it? Would I get away
without being convicted as a murderer? And it had been several days
at this point with no word from my murderer friend. She probably wasn't
coming back. We decided that we had to get rid of this bag.
But where? Where could we dump it and not have it connected to us?
Well...then the police became involved. A missing person investigation
started on the guy and since our place was the last place he was seen
alive...the cops came interview me. Luckily Ben was out with the sack
of skin trying to find a good place to dump it, so when they searched
the house they found nothing and I made up some story about the
guy leaving about an hour after he arrived. (which wasn't altogether
untrue...he just didn't leave alive.)
So the cops leave and Ben comes back with the sack in hand.
No luck. He decides that we're going to have to call in the help of
his family and has his sister fly down from Chicago. Once here we
show her the skin and tell her the story. The story spreads through
Ben's entire family and before I know it, they're all terrifed of me.
I tried to tell them that I didn't do it...that my friend did, but they
somehow don't believe the girl who has a sack of human skin in her closet.
And then I woke up.
Fucked up.
And so my fucked up nightmares seem to have started up again. For those of you
not familiar with the nightmares I've had in the past...well let's just say that they
can get pretty horrifying and gory.
Anyway, last night I had this dream that I was hanging out at mine and Ben's
apartment with these three chicks and we were maybe a little younger than I
am now. Maybe 19 or so? And so, this guy comes over that was, at one
time, involved with one of these girls in a love relationship. (Keep in mind that
I have no idea who these women are. Not real life friends at all.)
The guy had ended the relationship with this girl in a bad way and she was a
bit pissed about the whole thing, but showing a friendly front to him. So
these people are all in my living room chatting and laughing and I go down-
stairs for something. I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear the sounds of
struggle coming from upstairs and I hear the guy let out a horrible scream.
I'm too stunned to do anything and too terrified, so I just back up against the
wall and slide down and listen to my friends murder this guy in my living room.
When I do finally go upstairs, somehow all the blood has been cleaned up
and the body has been disposed of. The only thing that remains is a large
sack which contains the guy's possessions and clothing...and his skin.
The girls skinned him after they killed him. My friend asks me to keep this
sack until she can come back for it and I, disoriented and too terrified
to say no, agree.
I put the sack in the back of the little closet in the living room, with the
beanbag, stuffed animals, and Christmas wrapping paper. I'm very paranoid
...terrified that Ben will find out and hate me. Terrified that the police will find
out. Terrified at what I was doing...covering up a murder that was committed
in my house by my friend.
Being paranoid, I act all freaky when Ben goes to get something out of that
closet a few days later.He knows that I'm hiding something from him in
there and decides to search the whole thing. He eventually finds the bag
with the human skin. It's getting a little rank, now too.
He is obviously disgusted, frightened, and angry with me at first. Then I
explained what happened, and how fast it all happened, and how I just
didn't know what to do. So he believes me and decides to help me.
Then we started to consider our options. Could we go to the police?
Would the police believe us if we told them about it? Would I get away
without being convicted as a murderer? And it had been several days
at this point with no word from my murderer friend. She probably wasn't
coming back. We decided that we had to get rid of this bag.
But where? Where could we dump it and not have it connected to us?
Well...then the police became involved. A missing person investigation
started on the guy and since our place was the last place he was seen
alive...the cops came interview me. Luckily Ben was out with the sack
of skin trying to find a good place to dump it, so when they searched
the house they found nothing and I made up some story about the
guy leaving about an hour after he arrived. (which wasn't altogether
untrue...he just didn't leave alive.)
So the cops leave and Ben comes back with the sack in hand.
No luck. He decides that we're going to have to call in the help of
his family and has his sister fly down from Chicago. Once here we
show her the skin and tell her the story. The story spreads through
Ben's entire family and before I know it, they're all terrifed of me.
I tried to tell them that I didn't do it...that my friend did, but they
somehow don't believe the girl who has a sack of human skin in her closet.
And then I woke up.
Fucked up.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
Well, I haven't slit my wrists open so you can cheer or cry as you see fit.
I'm feeling much better. The whole depressive episode sprang from some issues
that Benjamin and I are working out. We've had a very...interesting relationship.
Sometimes perfect...sometimes hell. I suppose it's like that with most people.
But a nice long heart to heart and a cry did wonders. Now I even feel hopeful. :)
Alright, nothing more to say, I guess. Just wanted the world to know I'm not dead. Not yet. :)
"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be allright (alright)."
~ Jimmy Eat World from the song The Middle on their Bleed American CD
I'm feeling much better. The whole depressive episode sprang from some issues
that Benjamin and I are working out. We've had a very...interesting relationship.
Sometimes perfect...sometimes hell. I suppose it's like that with most people.
But a nice long heart to heart and a cry did wonders. Now I even feel hopeful. :)
Alright, nothing more to say, I guess. Just wanted the world to know I'm not dead. Not yet. :)
"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be allright (alright)."
~ Jimmy Eat World from the song The Middle on their Bleed American CD
Monday, June 17, 2002
I am in desperate need of Prozac, Zoloft, or some friend action.
I have been so melancholy all freaking weekend. What the hell is wrong with me?
Isn’t the time for mental breakdowns over? I mean, I’m actually out of school now…shouldn’t I have had one while I was struggling to get through?
Maybe I was pushing and pushing and pushing so hard to finish that I just didn’t have time to feel anything. I think that’s true. Push it all away…worry about it tomorrow.
I should know that’s not healthy behavior, considering what B.A. the College of Liberal Arts awarded me.
But now I feel. And I feel…empty. All except for a dull ache in the place where my heart should be.
Well, at least I haven’t gotten to the point where I’ve stopped bathing. When that happens I give you all permission to douse me with Clorox and spray me down with the water hose.
I have been so melancholy all freaking weekend. What the hell is wrong with me?
Isn’t the time for mental breakdowns over? I mean, I’m actually out of school now…shouldn’t I have had one while I was struggling to get through?
Maybe I was pushing and pushing and pushing so hard to finish that I just didn’t have time to feel anything. I think that’s true. Push it all away…worry about it tomorrow.
I should know that’s not healthy behavior, considering what B.A. the College of Liberal Arts awarded me.
But now I feel. And I feel…empty. All except for a dull ache in the place where my heart should be.
Well, at least I haven’t gotten to the point where I’ve stopped bathing. When that happens I give you all permission to douse me with Clorox and spray me down with the water hose.
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