the browning
third post for today... eh...heh..
The summer is making Kat browner and blonder. This makes her happy. It keeps her happy when she is bored shitless and even the internet fails to amuse her. She feels warm and glowy and healthy. Her coworker is singing random things to the Chia Pet song. Her bosses are working on the new Duckware and have affectionately termed it "Fuckware" and "Evil Ware 2002." They are not having fun. Kat has also just found a research paper on PORN. It amuses her greatly. She wishes she had thought of that during Info Hell.

She is frightened by Third Person speech. We are all going insane.

endless fascination
People play stupid games with each other. It's not like we want to use each other, it just happens. We're fascinated by each other for a while, we breathe the passion off each other like choice cocaine and then, when the fix wears off, we wander away in search of another dealer. I need someone to be my dealer for life.

Case in point: It's funny. The way that Kasey looks at me has completely changed now that he "knows" I'm seeing someone. Luckily for me, it came up in casual conversation and it didn't have to be one of those "I'm sorry, I'm taken" moments, which always make things awkward and unavoidably obvious. So he has no reason to act like anything is different. But it's apparent one of his less mature friends (another SRC empolyee) has taken it to heart to goad Kasey about his letdown. I guess I'm sorry for him. He must have liked me a lot, or at least have been sure he'd get lucky... he seems awfully disappointed. Well, not on the surface... we have to deal with each other because I'm there every day and he works there. But he's not trying to talk to me every single moment of the day and when he does talk to me, he's not all shining eyes and smiles. I admit, I'm thankful his interest has waned. He's a really cool guy, but I go to the gym to work out, not to chat it up with every single other attendee, as they seem to want to do. I'm usually on a time frame during my 12-1 lunch or 5-6:30 lifting after work when I'm hungry and just want to go home. But it was nice to talk to someone with such an "interest" in me, who looked thrilled to be getting to know me. If only he didn't have gonads for a motive. Sigh.

Yes, I'm going somewhere with this, somewhere more than this trite "oh this guy had a crush on me and now he doesn't like me and I feel like an ass but I'm kind of glad" crap. It makes me kind of sad because this is what I feel happens in a lot of my relationships, especially during the initial "fascination" period. You meet someone, you're amazed by them but there's only so much you can learn before your amazement turns to complacency and from complacency to boredom. Usually, boredom is where the relationship rests... because you can still have fun with the person and still be "friends" but you don't pick each others brains any more. You don't ask each other random questions about dreams and hopes and childhood. When you think of one, the answer always seems to disappoint you.

I guess I "test drive" a lot of people this way. I don't make friends easily because my inital pleasure with people often fades and then we just go our separate ways. Perhaps I have too high a standard or perhaps it's good to be selective. There's less drama in my life when I'm not surrounded by idiocy. I remember giving up being picky once in high school and opting for being a "wannabe" in the popular crowd. That was one of the lamest things I've ever done. I used to have a real complex, think I was better than everyone and that other people were honestly stupid. While I still believe the vast majority of people are sheep, I don't really hold it against them. I'm a sheep sometimes, too. I may not be stupid, but I'm not any more "right" or "better" than anyone else. There is no standard for personality. Everyone is different. I know too many people who look at the rest of the world as a slavering mass of stupidity and assume they've seen something that makes them superior. Epiphany time, folks... you ain't been nowhere if you're only twenty-five. I'm not a weathered veteran; I used to think I was. I don't have battle scars. I have no right to claim superior experience or intellect when I don't know. It's the people who think they know that are usually wrong. The people who think they're high and mighty who scrape the bottom. So you might not like sorority girls but you can't say you're better than them. Maybe ignorance is bliss and they have that happiness that your disgruntled little ass could never have. God, sometimes I wish I were a stupid cow... how light the world would seem! How I wish I could read cosmopolitan and not realize every issue is the same. Instead, I see this:



Heh heh. So I'm a little embittered still.

There are a lot of people I love... and I've grown to love them more over the summer. I've missed them while they were away, or appreciated their patience and skill. I've listened to them and they to me, and we've done some crazy shit together. I haven't had friends like this since the first two years of high school and, thankfully, I'll be going back home to see them in a week and a half. A WEEK AND A HALF!! I can't believe it. It won't hit me till I'm in the air. I like flying, it gives me time to think like working out does. Quiet contemplation time. Synethesia time.

I'm glad for having a full life and a full head. I am, for the first time in forever, happy with where I am. I like my home and my mate and myself. I'd just forgotten what non-angst felt like... it feels quiet... it can be boring. So I surround myself with work and play and people but sometimes I crave this "interpersonal fascination." So that's why I occasionally get caught flirting. Or why I feel so lonely once a new friend has faded away. What I really want. What the point of this entry IS is to say that I want someone in my life who fascinates me always, someone who I don't get bored by. Someone who sinks into quiet comfort but never complacency. I want a dreamer, a lover, a friend. Someone platonic and amazing who inspires and challenges me, who frustrates me and makes me insanely happy. I feel this way around almost EVERYONE for a while but, you know... it fades. I'm not an addict to this novelty. I don't "ditch and run." I just take for granted. It's harder for me to take for granted all the wonderful people in my life these days, a real boon, but I still crave SERIOUS INTELLECTUAL INTERCOURSE. Deep, sweaty, slamming, mind-fucking conversations. All night. Mmm. Dirty.

It can happen. I know it can, cause I've had it. So, you know... you never go back. Meh. I guess my problem is, I have and endless fascination. And.... it should go away... someday... hopefully... cause this one ain't supposed to work or be there. One of those f*cking social taboo things that makes it impossible to nurture. Le sigh. I'm not the coward I used to be, but nor am I in any way someone to break the mold of my own desires. I want to interface with someone who wants to interface with me, with whom it's voluntary and unwilled. I want it to happen again. And this time I'm keeping it.

hump day
I was thinking it might be cool if I made a "Day of the Week" themed CD. One song for every day of the week and a few more week songs. I could think of several, right off the bat but MAN was it hard to find songs for Thursday and Saturday that were remotely mainstream. But I found em, and I think the CD would be fun. Not fun to listen to, mind you; it would bore me badly... but it's a fun idea. Here's the list:

1. Days of the Week- Stone Temple Pilots
2. Bloody Sunday- U2
3. Manic Monday- Bangles
4. Ruby Tuesday- Coors
5. Waiting for Wednesday- Lisa Loeb
6. Thursday's Child- Daid Bowie
7. Friday I'm in Love- The Cure
8. Saturday Night- Elton John
9. Seven Days- Sting

Update
See St. Helens Ren Faire post for complete story. : )

A Novel Idea
Murray and Clara have been talking about it for a while. I tossed it off as silly, considering my extreme lack of time. I mulled over it as a joke, as a thing to do if only I could. If only I were free of classes, work, homework, publishing, reporting... and so on. But when they start sign-ups, I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself. I write. It's in my blood... hell, look at this stupid page.

November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). And I think I'll take a stab at my first novel.

I've already written two novellas... 45-60 page "short" stories, Vhi Lhimana Shara'hm (or "The Moonlight's Path") and... um, The Sinner's Counteractive (I think). These were for high school creative writing and lit classes, stories that got out of control and I ran with. I had to cut them short for lack of time. I know it's in me... I've felt it.

So what are they asking for? Fifty thousand words, two hundred pages in thirty days. That's 1,613 words a day. Not too bad, if you ask me! I write about that much in here a day... can I do it?

Hah. I laugh in the face of over-commitment. Let's do it, guys... we can share our passion and our pain. Or at least stay up late together drinking espresso and being carried away by our own dreams.

A Fairly Fair Faire
Actually, it was great. Our destination this past weekend was St. Helen's, Oregon, about thirty minutes north of Portland along highway 30. To give you a better idea of the area, picture lush rolling hills and fields along the Columbia. A sort of pristine passing-through that seems to be treated well in the hands of the hicks and farmers who own it. Yes, hicks and farmers... a strange place for a rather new-age faire. And a new one, at that. Saturday we were competing with a truck rally and a country music concert. The faire, being in its first year and not such a main attraction as these thrilling venues, had cardboard signs for advertisment. Despite that, about four hundred people attended on Saturday and about eight hundred on Sunday. Enough for a profit and more than enough for some fun!

And oy do I have tales to tell.

But, for the most part, the tales have faded from my mind in a way that lets me know they were funny at the time and not really important now.

The fair was a much more lax pace than Greenwood. There were only about 20 vendors and four performing groups, counting the knights. The big indicator that it was a first year faire was that it wasn't entirely... period. The had a few wannabe food-vendors and one yakisoba/ teriyaki booth. That and the giant, inflatable bouncy castle were giveaways that they hadn't been able to solicit as many merchants as they wanted. But the grounds were lovely; we set up camp along a stream bank and tied the horses near the water. It's been an interesting experience, spending so much time around horses this summer. When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to horse camp and learn to ride. Funny thing is, now I realize that I don't actually like horses THAT much. And they're a lot stupider than I gave them credit for. But these ones work hard. Almost as hard as the knights or harder. But some of the knights might be stupider.

Point in case: Mark, Justin's acquaintance/friend from the classes. The one I mentioned before as being a part of the BDSM scene in Seattle. The man has lost all my respect. I'm convinced that his martial arts injury (which has thus far evaded diagnosis) is more symptomatic of chronic drug use and self-neglect than anything else. I admit I believe he was/is in a lot of pain, but as much as he pops valium and morphine, his pain is more psychological *withdrawl* than anything else. That, and he doesn't eat and is always a mega-bitch to people because he doesn't feel well. Well, you have to eat to feel well. It's no wonder his body is consuming his muscle mass. I just question what doctor would be stupid enough to take a look at him and prescribe morphium and valium for a non-diagnoseable problem and then give him steroids and testosterone on top of that when he's not getting better. Mmmm... synthetic chemical compounds do a body good. OK, that's not my real beef. My real beef is that he's now sleeping with one of the Knights and her ex (also a Knight) is getting touchy about it. He's really being protective and it's not a "personal" issue, but Marc just isn't a really smart guy. The smart thing is not to create in-group drama like this. Especially when on excessive amounts of drugs and a COMPLETELY non-monogamous person. Someone will break. My big problem with him is that he likes to toss life off like it's nothing, no commitment to anything... and then still be completely irritable and pop drugs to solve his problems. I could be wrong, he could be in a lot of pain and have a completely viable life-philosophy, but something about the way he acts (akin to an angry arrogance) REALLY gets my goat. Bad vibes, I tell ya.

So Saturday was spent with people stewing over and avoiding that drama. I was also adopted by Joe Hill's wife, a Troll of a woman who sells the Knights' favors, braided ribbons, for $1 to the crowd. The woman has possibly the most repulsive personality of anyone I have ever met. She's not quite a child (thought sized like one) and not quite an adult. She is absolutely in the way ALL the time... has no respect for space. And she adopted me, like we were instant friends. I spent most of the weekend avoiding her and will, unfortunatly, have to deal with her this and next weekend as well. I meant to take a picture of her to post... her looks pretty much reveal her nature... but I couldn't subject myself to having to be in her presence a moment longer. At first, I thought she wasn't that bad... but after being in camp with her these past faires... I know...

On the up side, Damian, the head man, took everyone out for dinner on Saturday. The service at the restaurant was terrible and there were several mishaps with steaks. But the poor, overworked waitress (yes, only one for 30-some people) got everyone their food eventually, albeit over a two hour period. I ended up getting a complete meal out of my manditory mooching to raise my blood-sugar. MmMmMm... I got to witness a few members of the group being "knighted," a process that takes place after being with the Knights at least one faire season and demonstrating skill and responsibility. It was sweet. : )

When we got back to camp, several of the Knights, Justin, and I, all got together to play Munchkin... a demeted version of D&D card game. I was dubious, being that I've never really been into the RPG card game scene, save for a short stint of playing and collecting Magic (Which, admittedly, was far cooler than I imagined). But Munchkin really is... something else. Get that from the name? On the surface, it's generic... you fight monsters, gain treasure (Equipment, curses, spells) to gain levels and either help or backstab other member of your party. First player to level ten (or so) wins. Buuuuut.... you fight monsters like Large Angry Chickens, Lawyers, Mushrooms, Undead Girlscouts, and Squirrels. If you're REALLY unlucky, you fight them AND their mommies. Equipment consists of such miscellany as Slimy Armor, Indestructable pantyhose, Fake Beards, The Chainsaw of Bloody Dismemberment (of Doom! +1), The Kneepads of Allure, and Spiky Codpieces... All sorts of hilarious doodads. And you can pick a race and class with boons and banes (and equip restrictions) for each class. Play is really simple. On your turn, you kick open a door and fight or take what's inside. If you beat the monster, you get the treasure and gain a level. If you don't, you either run or lose, and bad things happen. You can ask others to help you (a bribe) or others can screw you over by throwing things at you to make your life worse. If there is no monster or curse inside, you loot the room. It's all played with cards and a die... and it was an extreme riot. Justin bought it as soon as we got home so we need people to play with us!

I myself picked up a few goodies at the faire, including a new dress at only $20. I connived more free things out of vendors and didn't walk away from a single booth without a purchase made at significant discount. Whee! The drive home was refreshingly short compared to that coming home from Richland. We stopped in both a Subway and the Eugene Albertsons on the way back, fully dressed in garb. Many people asked if we were in a play... some just gawked and others laughed. I said, "hey, people in stupid costumes need food too," to one especially stupified looking girl. The checkout girl at Albertsons said we were not, in fact, the strangest thing she had seen all day. A gentleman who thinks he's Peter Pan comes in once a week, she explained. And his tights, unlike Justin's, are a vibrant green.

I guess we need to try harder to be freakish, huh? Well, it's almost wednesday and halfway through another week and almost time for another faire! I'll take pictures a plenty at that one too and post them in similar format. Here is the album from this trip:

Picture Directory

People come here because I'm a sick freak
Wow, a vast majority of my search hits from over the weekend involved twisted things. It's pretty cool knowing that my utter non-sequitors cause people out there, god knows where, looking for an amazing pornstar with a flexible sphincter end up here. I do hope they find their lives enhanced. Remember once before when I got a hit for "amazing ty's gigantic asshole"? I thought "what the hell?" I talked a bit about my roomate Ty and maybe mentioned something about someone being an asshole in relative proximity. Who is this Amazing Ty, I wondered, and does he really have a gigantic asshole? Well, silly me for asking. Now I know.

For a while after that hit, there was nothing. Suddenly, this weekend, a barrage (ten) hits from google all from people looking for some form of "amazing ty" showed up on my sitemeter. Apparently quoting that other hit has made my relatively high in the list. I fear what this entry will do. In any case, I didn't GO to any of the other links but it was pretty obvious to me that there is a porn star (thankfully, female) out there with a rather loose anus and a penchant for placing things there. Yummay.

Glad to be affiliated. Welcome to "Kat's House of Porn."

I'm up to 23 a day and, surprisingly, a lot of hits are coming from searches. Poor misguided fools. Here are some results aside from the normal "my so-called life" hits:

Amazing ty (10 of different varieties)
�bird shot� pic
Autzen Stadium Pictures
Aol-cd tins
I FUCKED MY SISTER WHILE MOMMY WATCHED
"[Parent Directory]" "*crouching*"
SEXY GIRLSCOUTS
�middle school� �girl pictures�
who owns statue of liberty
scared shitles
dancing penises
swabbed shoes airport
photos women pregnant GAH!
Walking running exercise home treadmill
Antrican Oregon
Precognitive dreams that told me who I would marry
I fuck my younger sister a sexy story of my life
Autzen webcam x2
Willamette River Eugene Pollution swim
Cat guess gender
Oven toasted garlic (#5 on google, yum!)
NAV 2002 crack
Sorostitute
Codependency (#5 on aolsearch.com)
�Is my crush crushing back?� quiz
weeeeeeeeeeeeeee (#5... ok)
startrak treadmill
magnetic rose phantom
gourd dance pic

SCUBA pictures
For your weekend amusement.... pictures of last weekend! Hooah!
I'll take some pictures THIS weekend at the faire and post them for NEXT weekend when we're out at the next faire. I won't be in Eugene for the weekend for one month. St. Helens this weekend, Gig harbor the next two... then one weekend (2 weeks) in Michigan and the Salem faire after that. Phew! Anyway, here are the pics:

First, another random picture of my cat!! (1)


I just got (2) suited up, Aren't I sexy? Eh, you look a bit different (3) after A 7 mill wetsuit does (4) WONDERS for one's figure. . (5) Yes, they put me in PINK. FULL PINK. Knowing how much I hate it. And I was the only one, too. SO I did everything I could to make sure my outfit was ENTIRELY pink so that everyone was nauseous.

(6) My buddy Renee and I get in the water... don't those hoods look comfortable? I look like an alien... After the dive, we (7) floated around, told dirty jokes (8) and played around in the water. (9) Here's me in full gear. I was wearing 23.5 pounds of weight in addition to a 45 pound tank. That was 30 pounds plus a 45 pound tank when we were in the ocean. I've never in my life been more grateful for the squats I do each week!

After the first two dives, and in between, a bunch of us jumped off the bridge near the dive site. I was the first to go! Apparently, it's tradition... and it doesn't hurt at all because of the thick wetsuit. Not to mention, the bridge isn't REALLY all that high. With a wetsuit on, you float like a buoy... it's kind of funny. Here we are (10) getting ready to jump, (11) jumping!, and (12) taking the plunge. I must have done that 6 or 7 times, it was great!

It was the second day that we went to the ocean. Forty eight degree water makes one truly happy for a thermal wetsuit. The lake was 70 degrees. The visibility in the ocean was null, but we were happy to be there. Here's (13) Justin and I on the Jetty. (14) And again.

in fours: rants and raves
BEWARE!: Long brain-dump ahead

Nostalgia, Deja Vu, Rememberies- Whatever you want to call it...
I got it. Muchos grande. Is there something wrong with me where I when I look back at the parts of my life that have slowly detached from me I feel great sentiment and longing? I always worry that this means I'm obsessed or that I haven't moved on. I always worry that other people think that I'm not functional when I haven't seen then in YEARS and I tell them I miss them, because I do... or that they think I wish things ARE the way they've BEEN just because I love/loved the way they WERE. Does that make sense?

The truth is, I place a great deal of value on the past. I believe that you are where you've been. I believe more strongly in nurture than nature (but yes, as stated in last night's debate with a very vehement and crotchety Dave, I believe in nature too). I believe in honoring past ties, even though I have problems holding present ties sacred. I value that I can see the lines and nodes of the past infinitely more clearly than those of the present.

I love life. I love living with all its joys and sorrow and karmic spasticity. I love twists of fate and irony. I love peace and seeking, questions and answers. So maketh it sense that I love everything I have yet experienced as much or more as that which I have yet to experience? I think so. Still, it makes me feel awkward to express my undying affection for figures from my past. During the last week, I've been talking to a lot of people that I haven't spoken with for about a year and haven't seen for over three years. To really share with someone that you KNEW makes you realized that in some way, you still KNOW each other. I don't think we really ever let go. For me, talking to someone is the difference between seeing a memory in black and white and in living color. To hear the voice of an old friend, even through an email, is like unbottling the past. I can smell it. It's like picking off a scab or poking an old bruise. All those wonderful, icky, unconfortable but somehow satisfying reminders that you're still alive and you kick harder than anyone you know. It's like I'm shedding old skin to get back to the memories and in the process becoming both someone newer and older than I ever was.

When I got an email this morning from Emilio, a friend of mine from high school, another layer of old skin came off. It always surprises me when I reconnect with someone, just how MUCH and how fiercely I miss them. There's a certain affinity for a friend or a lover, a certain fingerprint feeling that belongs just to them that you can never forget nor lose. It might change, but it will always be there. It's like a scent, like instinct. Certain people feel certain ways. They fit like old clothes. They bring you right back to the last time you felt them, and every time before. This is the beauty of lines and nodes. They recongnize each other.

I had a dream the other night that I was building chi (ki) balls with my hands. But they weren't raw light, they were orbs with spinning orbitals, globes like the world full of connections. When I think about flying home to be with people I knew so well, friendships so close I'm only beginning to build new ones as strong, the same energy fills me. Working out today I had a moment of euphoria, pure bliss and clarity in which I saw myself standing both above the world on it, gathering all of the lines to which I am connected. I reeled them in toward me, like a great fisherman, and saw the web that my existence has woven upon the world. There are parts of me everywhere now, dispersed over the globe like glowing fireflies. As I pulled the lines tight, my life came into focus. In these instances I am accomplished, I am successful. I AM everywhere. And I'm proud to be a part of other people. In these instances, it is impossible to see how one person cannot make a difference.

So I've been talking to old friends. Specifically, Lesley, Sian, and Emilio. Lesley's in Venice right now, Emilio in China (for a year, no less, then on to London!) and Sian is soon to leave for Japan. I always thought I was the one among them with the most wanderlust. Maybe I am, but here I am, stuck in podunk Oregon because of my own uncertainty and fear of screwing up by breaking loose of the system. I always seem so ungrateful. Really, I'm not. I just wonder if I'm doing the right thing for me. I know my life sounds impresive, especially for someone who hasn't travelled a lot. But I do travel. I've moved across the country and survived. I lived a year in Germany when I was younger. I went to Florida for Spring break, Belize this Christmas. I've been skiing in montana the last few years. I hike Glacier National Park in the Summer. Oh, and don't forget Colorado last summer and all the ren faires this one. I have to keep reminding myself that I am, by no means, boring. I am strong and I am independent. I kick ass and it thrills me to know this. Yes I have an ego. Lick my boots!

I read a great quote today while fixing some theatre GTF's windows 95 machine. He had it posted above his desk. It reads:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate,
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us. We ask ourselves,
"Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?"
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of god.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
-Marianne Williamson

Sometimes I wonder when I'll get up the courage to leave the sandbox and actually comb the beach. This is why I'm going "home," because I want to force myself to look back and to look forward, to reevaluate life in retrospect and in foresight. To open up memories and remind myself that life is not all about the past.

So, to all my old friends, I love you and I miss you so much! I wish you were here with me but I couldn't trade the way things have gone down for anything in the world. Life is to precious to do over. Any rewind is wasted time. So I look back with an eye toward the future. I love you, I love who you were, who we were together, who we have become apart from each other. This goes for you if I have known you, for you if I know you now, and for you if I do not know you and we have yet to meet. The lines all connect back to each other in the end. In the end we all come from the same great light, the same cosmic breath. I know you even if we have not met. I will meet you someday even if we never speak.

And still, I find it somehow true when Tyler Durden says: "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. We all come from the same dung heap." I don't know how it can both be true that we are amazing, shaped individuals an nothing more than lawn fertilizer at the same time, but it is.

Everything we do is art...
I've been thinking a lot about where I am lately and what I'm doing with myself. I've been thinking that I might like to go to graduate school for a masters in Asian or Japanese studies. That I might like to travel to some obscure location and not even write, just live. That I might have had more fun had I decided to be an art or a theatre major, a sociology major, a criminal psychologist. There are so many things that I like and so much that I could be good at that the world just seems to FULL sometimes. It's both a blessing and a curse. There are so many possibilities, so many openings that I am both invited and oppressed by them. Free and stifled. Where do I go? What door do I choose? I look at my friends, new and old, and I see music, art, language, politics, science, religion, every niche in every corner of the world... I look at myself and I want to be ALL that, but I'm only a small bit. There'd better be reincarnation, else I'll be pissed off at what I'm missing. I have a good feeling about where I am. It's similar to that "WHEE!" that Katie was writing about the other day. I know I'll go good places, I just want to do it all NOW! But I am in a good place. I'm envious of my friends and happy for them. I know they think the same of me. I envy their adventures and independence, they envy my success, stability, and innovation. We all complement and inspire each other.

Really, I think what matters is that what you are doing is, in some way, art to you. How is making not art? Tara wrote this the other day. The truth is, making is art unless you can't feel passionate about it. Then it becomes nothing. I could have been an actor, an artist, a model, a singer, a writer, a poet, a teacher, a psychologist or anthroplogist because these things feel like art to me. But that doesn't make them any less legitimate than chemistry, physics, computer science, neurobiologist or doctor. To some people, these are art. This struck me as somewhat of a revlelation this morning. There is a passion in everything. Like Dave's passion for lasers. Obviously, I don't feel it... but that doesn't mean it isn't magic somehow. The only sad thing is that when there is so much out there, so much art and passion, that so many people have stuck themselves doing things that are not art. Business can be art, marketing can be art, you can enjoy being a lawyer as much as you enjoy poker. But there are thousands of people working lifeless jobs because they don't remember what art feels like, or never found their own.

Just do what feels good...
Last night, Justin and I drove over to Katie and Luke's place (well, technically Murray's too but he's in Walla Walla right now). I had to take the hem out of my garb skirt and put a new, shorter hem in. An interesting experience considering I've sewed all of one other time in my life. The house was a bustle of people, mostly Scaddians (SCA members) building masts and making garb for the event this weekend. When we came over around 10, Katie and Dave were just getting around to dinner. It took me a while to get my hem started and then everything kept screwing up until midnight. Katie was in the kitchen making a pie with cherries she had to use before the weekend and I was sewing. The guys all sat at the kitchen table, drank beer, and talked about the SCA and lasers. Then they went into the backyard and pounded and hacked at masts. It was classic. Unfortunately, it started feeling late very fast and several of us got cranky trying to get done what we meant to accomplish. Every time I see Katie I like her more, so I felt horribly guilty for contributing to the stressfulness of the already busy house. But somehow we got things done and on top of that got a pie made. So at one thirty we ate hot cherry pie with vanilla ice cream and all was mended. Life is good.

Tonight I go to get my first credit card, since I've felt more presed to build credit recently and tomorrow we're off to St. Helens Renaissance Faire until sunday evening. I feel relaxed and relieved. There has been a sense of balance restored to my life with the advent of this trip home. I envy the independence of some of my single friends but I also appreciate their envy of my comfort, stability, and sense of perspective.

This is the Problem with relationships:
It's all about perspective. I don't want to BE my relationship, but it's so hard to be just ME anymore. Sometimes I miss that. I miss loneliness. I miss desire. I don't really seek it in other places but, like I've said, I've been known to flirt. Yesterday Kasey finally figured out that I wasn't single. It took him that long to find a good way to ask. I'm sure he was flustered but he was polite and didn't let it show, at least until today when another of the SRC employees was obviously rubbing it in. I know he was quite smitten with me but I really haven't figured out a way to get around this PROBLEM I seem to have talking to men. It really pisses me off and it's a COMPLETE catch-22. I don't like to define myself by my relationship. I hardly ever say "my boyfriend this, my boyfriend that.." even when I'm talking to girls. Often it's 'Justin and I,' etc... which is as much as I said to him. More often than not, guys seem to assume I'm single. I don't know why. I don't fawn over them, I'm just capable of holding a normal conversation. More often than not, I'm talking to guys because I like talking to them, I'm more of male affinity than female. So there's no reason for me to say outright, "oh, I'm seeing someone!" If I'M not interested. And if they're interested, shouldn't THEY ask? It seems ludicrious that I should have to assume that every man I hold a casual conversation with and who would like to have one again wants to sleep with me. I'd like to think I'm more than a sex object! Are men really so stupid that they can't ask or need it spelled out when a woman isn't interested in them? Why should I have to advertise my relationship status in the reference of a normal conversation? It doesn't make sense! And if I do, they act all offended like 'no, no, I wasn't thinking like that!' The FUCK you weren't... every time I DON'T mention I'm seeing someone, I'm 'leading you on.' So why can't we just talk? If it comes up, it comes up. If you want to know, ASK, for fuck's sake! I'm a person first, a potential mate second. Aren't I? Man, the world has some communication problems. Ugh. That just really riled me to see his friend cracking up today. I didn't lead him on because there was no reason to pretend that we weren't doing anything other than talking whenever I saw him. Not to mention he was playing the role of stalker... I just came to the gym to work out, he's the one who acted like I came to see him. Grow up!

I don't really want to end on such a trite and angry note, but it really does bother me. At least he can't avoid me now and at least he seems to be acting normally. But really, why should he assume I'm single? Like he has some claim to me or something... Am I supposed to act or do something in some other way? I'd like to think I won't change myself for the world.

Well, onward and upward!

I hate fake things
Here are two that really bug me:
-Houses with "fake" shutters- who the hell uses shutters any more?

-Stupidly posed University promotional photos and propaganda videos. Read your lines, pretend your diverse, pretend you're reading on the steps on Johnson Hall in your best dress like there's EVER anyone studying there. Get real. Ppff...

when you're a stranger
This stupid Lake Oswego girl who faked her own abduction, along with a recent "slew" of real kidnappings have inspired a series of news articles on how to prevent your kids from being taken by strange people. Mainly, the press is correct in asserting that the watchful eye should rest with the parents, not the naive kiddies. There really aren't any "scare tactics" to use on junior to make sure he doesn't get nabbed by a member of the local parish out for a stroll. But there is the ever-classic "don't talk to strangers" shpiel. I wonder, though, would this seriously stop someone bent on kidnapping or molesting your child from getting away with it? I doubt it.

Where then, has this nurtured paranoia gotten us? We're now a generation- nay, a nation of adult children unable to trust each other when we should relax. Hey, we can take care of ourselves now! Right? Well, that's not what mommy taught us. Everyone has bad intentions. It's no reason we get nervous. Granted, when push comes to shove, we break the borderline and invest in each other at the risk of damage. Sometimes we get damaged. Actually, usually we get damaged even if we don't trust each other.

I wonder to what degree this uber-paranoia takes root in other countries. Is it the same in more laid-back nations ? Is it the same in less developed nations? What about more family-oriented societies? I'll assume for the sake of argument that no parent anywhere thinks its okay for their child to wander off with someone they don't know. This makes sense. But gawd, to the extent we take it... it's a wonder we aren't all balled up in our bedrooms afraid to see the light of day.

Something tells me that it has to do with population density. In rural areas or in subsistence lifestyles where there are fewer people per square mile, individuals are forced to depend on each other for what can be given. Here we're piled on top of each other. We're ancy, we're in each other's space. There's also a much higher chance that there are severly disturbed individuals among us. Sigh. Time to cull the herd...

Err... um... what I mean is, Christ, even I feel paranoid these days! I can't imagine anyone else's intentions are good, even though I finally trust my own! I remember once when I was a kid and there were a few abductions by van in the metro area near my home. When a similar van appeared in our neighborhood, all the kids learned so easily to be terrified. We crossed the street away from people we didn't recognize. We avoided strange cars. I still sense that feeling a little too often. Thank you, "common wisdom." Thank you, neighborhood psychos.

You make the world a loving place.

Stopping Traffic
Talk about stupid. Whenever biking to and from work, I often count the number of times I could have died. Those little instances when a light turns yellow while you're crossing an intersection and someone doesn't *quite* see you. Or you're almost pegged by an ignorant pedestrian or motorist while minding your own business. Or people don't think they have to obey the right of way laws with bikes. Sometimes I'm a little too daring. Sometimes I run reds if there are no cars (and only then). Sometimes I ride on the sidewalk or cross lanes of traffic- but usually when I almost die it's not my fault.

Today I witnessed two extreme acts of stupidity, one Justin's and one my own, as we were biking to school. We always have to launch ourselves off the curb and into Centennial when coming out of Chase; there is no crosswalk. There's also an inconveniently placed curve in the road right there that makes visibility shit. You can usually see the cars coming through the fence though. Well, this morning Justin just didn't see the white Lincoln (HUGE old person car) hurdling down the street at him. So he merrily pops into the street and is immediately faced by a two-ton hunk of steel. Stop. Freeze. Both the car and the bike are now motionless in the roadway and me flinching on the sidewalk, having seen the whole thing coming. The driver doesn't even honk and just pulls around Justin and goes his way. Bike along...

We arrive at Onyx bridge and Justin is departing for class. We're shouting goodbyes on the move, and he asks me something which I need to contradict. So, while we were biking pretty much parallel, he has now pulled off to the left to park and so I swerve to catch up to him. Cue psycho biker girl, who has decided that it would be a good idea to bike *through* us. Totally my fault, because I didn't look before I turned... but would you 1) bike *between* two other bikers who were obviously travelling together when there is 20 feet more sidewalk or 2) bike between two people having a conversation and not paying attention to you, unnanounced? I wouldn't. She gets kudos, though. First, for the lovely panicked cry she made when I turned; it quite confused me because I wondered who the hell was making it. Second, because she was wearing a helmet. She must have gotten into accidents before ^^. Actually, she braked, swore at me and at her general terror for about five seconds, and rode off. She stopped within a few feet of me, wasn't even really a close call. My life didn't flash before my eyes. Needless to say, I felt like a retard. Bikes are silent though, and it's not like I was actually crossing a street.

Still, I'd much rather be hit by a velo than a 1980 Lincoln. I think Justin takes the prize.


**********
Gave blood yesterday for the third time. This always makes me so happy! I biked home without incident and felt normal except for exhaustion throughout the evening. Apparently, yes, I have A- blood, even though my parents are O+ and B+. It's a recessive thing... strange, but true. This also means that if I have children, I will probably have difficulty carrying the fetus. Most people are protein positive blood types and generally, if I have children with a positive, the children will be positive because it is a dominant gene. If I'm carrying a fetus with protein positive blood, my own body will, in all liklihood, react to that protein and try to destroy it. There's a good chance of this happening. So if I get pregnant, I will probably have to take blockers that inhibit this reaction to prevent me from aborting. Oooh, how exciting. More incentive not to have babies. At least I can remember to take pills. ^^

Microservices. How may I help you?

No, I do not know your password. ESPECIALLY not your root password. I do not know where to FIND it.

If the password system does not like your password because it it too easy to guess, it's not my problem! MAKE ANOTHER ONE. It's sad how many people don't know what an acronym is.

If you broke your computer, you have to at least be able to USE it to fix it.

I cannot help you if you don't know what operating system you have. There is no Windows 99.

If you can't find the start menu and you insist you have Windows, we have a problem.

I will not do research for you. I know less about your obscure fax/graphic/CAD/video/compiling software than you do.

Three words: Call the manufacturer.

I will not walk you through reinstalling windows. Use fdisk and press enter 50 times. Was that hard?

I cannot see what you are seeing, nor can I tell you what you are seeing. If we are not seeing the same thing, you are wrong. Not me.

If you use floppy disks and have problems with them, you are not a victim of cirumstance, you are an idiot.

The duckware CD will not magically install your dialup. No one knows why you think this.

No I will not help you with AOL! If you use AOL, you need a different kind of help than I am qualified to give.

If you are getting an authentication error on dialup, ninety-nine percent of the time it is because YOU typed something wrong. Believe me.

Your modem does not double as an ethernet card or vice versa.

Yes, you do have to open a web browser to browse the internet. Funny, that.

Catch 22: I cannot fix your computer unless you want to learn how to fix it.

If I begin screaming, it means one thing: Read... The... Fucking... Manual...

Don't yell at me because you got porn spam. I didn't send you the message on how to enlarge your penis size... though it would be funny if I did.

If you are older than dirt and you *really* believe your computer is out to get you, it is.

If your computer is older than dirt, pray that it dies soon. Better yet, put it out of its misery before I gouge my eyes out.

And if you are having problems with windows 95, you might make me cry. Don't ask me to fix it, I don't know why it still lives.

If you don't know the error message and can't get it to come up, I can't fix it.

You don't have to read me every word of every popup that comes on your screen. Hit OK and get on with it.

I will only spell out "password.uoregon.edu" for you three times before I get cranky.

English PLEASE. You no speak? Me no speak.

If your printer is broken, I'm sorry. I can't club it for you over the phone. If you bring it in, we'll talk.

Hello. Thank you for informing me that you are Mr. X from X department. Don't pull rank on me, Smartypants. Your computer's nuts are in our vise.

Please don't unplug it while it's on. Love ctrl-alt-delete. Use the power button, it works.

Do not email us your password. We can't fix your problem with your password. But we can now wreak havoc in your name with YOUR account. But we're nice, so we'll just disable you instead.

You want me to transfer you to Microsoft? I'm sorry, Mr. Gates is out to lunch and Mr. Jobs is getting a soda right now. Can I put you on hold till they get back?

LISTEN WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU.

Do. Not. Put. Me. On. Hold.

If you are on hold for five minutes or more, there is a ninety percent chance I am either laughing hysterically, crying, or beating myself repeatedly in the head with blunt objects. This is my polite way of telling you to go away.

If your question involves six or more levels of shell, you breathe more linux than air. Not even God can help you.

If you are running a warez server from your dorm room, you are not allowed to be pissed when your ethernet gets shut off. The same goes for port scanning and kiddie porn resale.

If it won't boot, I can't make it.

Please don't ask me to guide your hands inside your computer. More innocents die that way.

If you have summoned satan into your computer or have an equally heinous virus, find your system disk and pray.

Nuke and pave. If you're too scared, pay us and we'll do it for you. We like to. Kill disk, baby.


*******
This is for a forty-hour work week. For those people who can make an eight-hour day of screwing around seem like working in a canning factory. This is for all those calls you love to hate, that make you want to laugh and curse and generally shoot yourself.

I love my job, I really do. Sometimes I feel guilty for getting off the phone and banging my head against the dest while trash talking the latest caller. Some people deserve it more than others, some are just naive. But man, we have the greatest time with the people who have no clue. I have NO COMPLAINTS. I like dealing with the impossible idiots and assholes as much as I do dealing with the simple one-minute questioners. I love giving my cynical, sarcastic, ironic side more fuel and just laughing with everyone else about silly questions. Even if saving someone's system is usually thankless, I love feeling all-powerful.

This is for the Hell's Angels, the girls of tech support, the new breed of g33k. I like being cute, tall, blonde and knowing how to reinstall a TCP/IP stack, reformat a drive, or set up LPR printing. I love being able to build a network and create my own computer from scratch. I love the stories (yes, real idiocy does sometimes happen...) and taking them home is priceless. I like helping people.

This is for all the times when I've been unable to handle working on my own computer because I just can't do it any more at the end of the day. At work, I run a 1.7Ghz pentium and a G4. At home I run an Athlon 500, albeit suped up. I've neglected Frederick for too long. I just can't stand to give him reconstructive surgery, it makes me tired.

I really couldn't ask for a better time at work. We're always having a good time, eating French chocolates, talking about politics, playing the latest games. The stupid people make it all so much more worthwhile. In the word of Tenacious D, "this is just a tribute."

cartilage popsicles
WARNING: stupid, lame-o chronicle of my weekend entry, despite the working title being interesting.
Well, SO! That was my kind of weekend. I came home Friday after working out (and being some girl's hero for both figuring out which locker was hers AND opening it) to find my sisters here from Seattle and Justin making his magnifique lasagna! Mmmm... fontina.

The two sisters that came to visit me are Allie and Liz, seventeen and fourteen respectively. Allie's entering her senior year of high school now, and Liz her sophomore. My youngest sib, Eleanor (7) stayed in Seattle. Good thing, I don't think I want to try and handle her. Heh. I did a pretty good job of not corrupting my sisters with my debaucherous college lifestyle. Didn't subject them to drugs, alcohol, or sex... but we did watch a few movies that I'm sure my mom wouldn't have liked. Nothing in the "porn" category, mind you, just Fight Club and Dracula 2K DVDs. Yum, Fight Club. I can really identify with that movie. People are such docile cows when it comes to money and stuff. In fact, I feel like lowing right now. Mooooooo.

Probably would have been a bit more adventurous and spent more time socializing with the kids had I not already been lined up to get five certified on Sat and Sun. Saturday, we drove out to the coast at the butt-crack of dawn and ended up paying $5 to get into the state park and not even diving there. Three dives (1,2,4) were done in Lake Woahink, across the way. Only the third dive was done off the Jetty, and that was just exploring. Thank GOD because the water was 48 freakin degrees. I'm glad for full farmer john wetsuits, hoods, boots, and gloves. Yay for insulation!

On the ocean dive, I saw lots of baby crabs (but none big enought to catch), a hermit crab, and a moonjelly... the rest of the time the water was too dark and murky (2 ft. viz) to see anything. It was quite surreal. The Lake dive proved more interesting. There I saw.... a lobster, some dinosaurs, a Kiss Concert, a pink flamingo and "Joe's Place" frog, a rocking horse, Mt. Bobba Fett, a pig, a whale, a shark, about 3 or 4 sunken boats and some minnows. Rather amusing dive! Yes, the instructors use the Lake as a dive site fairly often and so have stapled various lawn ornaments and other junk to the logs that grace the silt floor. But the "wrecks" are real... some old dinghys left out too long that rusted through.

So that's how we spent the weekend, with them basking in the sun and trying to keep amused, and Justin and I underwater. I'm now certified and eager for Belize! The sisters and I socialized at night and watched movies more often than talked. But it was great to have company and last night we went to Shiki in celebration and ate huge quantities of Sukiyaki, Udon, Sushi, Edamame, Tofu, Veggies, and Miso.

Allie and Liz got along for the most part, a welcome change from their past squabbling. The worst they got was a bit grabby and hyper, but nothing beyond tickling and calling each other "Cheesy P." and "Butt Jelly." Don't ask. Apparently their new thing is giving each other stupid nicknames. They call Eleanor "Big Tooth." I said these sound like bad rapper names, so they called me "Queen Tuna LaQueefa." I'm rather pleased with that one myself. We couldn't, however, come up with anything more original for Justin than "Sir Scratch and Sniff." I can think of a few things more fitting but less appropriate for his nickname, but I'll spare you them. Yeah, the sisters and I get bad when we're around each other. And it was great this weekend because there were no parents to get offended and tell us to shut up.

We sat around last night and ate popsicles in the blistering heat. They were these pineapple orange popsicles and had these weird chunks of frozen fruitlike stuff about the consistency of cartilage. It would have been gross had the popsicles not been so good. It's been decided that we should write Dole about their cartilage brand popsicles and complement them on the excellent consistency of the ears and noses they're using. I wonder if they'd give us a lifetime supply of popsicles just to get us to shut up.

Their train was like 2 hours late today, so we hung out a bit before they left. I showed them the WEEEE! animation and the original Yatta because they'd only seen the spoof. I don't think they were impressed by Tokyo Breakfast ^^. Needless to say, Today was stressful and exhausting. I finally got my plane tickets to Michigan and I'll be going back from the morning of August 12 to the afternoon of August 23rd. In between the Gig Harbor and Salem Faires. Perfect timing! Ugh. I hate missing so much work AND spending $400 on tickets. That leaves me out $1200. Sigh. Oh well... I'd feel even worse if I didn't go home. I really WANT to go but I'm still overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety and work-related guilt over taking two weeks off. But the urge to go home is even stronger. Still, after talking to my grandparents this weekend, I get the feeling that I'm at that age that is no longer endearing nor really flattering (a success story) to them. I'm just the awkward, searching teenager and they're getting too old to put the energy into spoiling me or giving me advice.

It was interesting to talk to so many people that I haven't spoke with for so long. I talked to my parents, my sisters, both sets of grandparents, Lesley, and Sian this weekend. Man... talk about going back. I haven't seen my grandparents or old friends in about four years! People change... Sian says she's even heard through the grape vine that Emilio, a friend from my Ypsi high circle, has finally come out! We all knew he was gay... I'm just so happy for him!

In any case, I'm really tired and burnt out. I'm going to give blood tomorrow so I'd best be rested. They told me I have A- blood and I'd always been convinced I had B+ blood. I was excited to be a more rare blood type, but I think they're just lying bitches... my dad has O+ and my mom has B+ and all us kids' crib cards say B+ (blood type being genetic) so there's NO WAY I can be A-... unless.... nah.

I always knew I was weird but there's no way I'm an alien.

Will post pictures from weekend tomorrow

YAY!!!
MY SISTERS ARE HERE!!! YAY!!! THEY CAME ALL THE WAY DOWN FROM SEATTLE TO SUPRISE ME AND WE HAD LASAGNA AND ICE CREAM AND WE'RE GONNA WATCH MOVIES AND THEY'RE COMING TO THE COAST WHILE I GO DIVING! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!! AND I'M GOING TO MICHIGAN!! YAY!!!

travel sick
Been pricing fares to Michigan... so far, I'm impressed by NW airlines... they're the only website with non-stop, low fares and multiple-destination flight planning. I'm printing my results here for my own use:

From Seattle to Detroit:
1) 8:30 Dep. (NS) 3:24 Arr. #268
2) 9:00 Dep. (NS) 4:15 Arr. #276
3) 12:45 Dep. (NS) 7:57 Arr #278 ^

From Detroit to Portland:
4) 9:07 Dep. (NS) 10:57 Arr. #811
5) 3:30 Dep. (NS) 5:20 Arr #817

From Detroit to Eugene:
6) 12:10 Dep. (Sea) 5:10 Arr. #279/ 2225 (horizon)
7) 9:07 Dep (PDX) 3:22 Arr. #811/ 2275? (horizon)
8) 3:30 Dep (PDX) 9:44 Arr. #817/ ?? (horizon)

Price Combos:
(#1 or #2) + (#4 or #5)= $354
(#1 or #2) + #6= $476
(#1 or #2) + #7= $455 **
(#1 or #2) + #8= $401 *

Including Option for Traverse City:
Approx $533, Seattle to Traverse, Detroit to Eugene/ Portland
Probably don't want to do the reverse unless only coming to portland... too much flying + too many stopovers!

^: last minute option
*: best all-around fare
**: best for more time in MI

This is just Great

The Skeptic's Annotated Bible. If you're a believer... or not...

Birds
Justin and I went swimming in the river yesterday. It was ball-busting cold, and we basically floundered in the shade off-shore until we finally threw ourselves into the current and found a sunny spot where it was warmer. The river is considerably higher than it was last friday when we went swimming and even higher than it was a few weeks ago. Where is all the water coming from? Not rain... a melt, maybe? We clung to a rock about 15 feet off shore and watched as stuff fell from under the one of the column supports of the footbridge. We never did figure out what it was, it looked like large water droplets and no bird could shit that much.

Good news! We saw the gaggle of duckies from the other day and it appears that the Stupid Duckie was reunited with his family. They were out swimming in the current and being stalked by a Cormorant and a Red Tailed Hawk.

This morning, I noticed the river was even higher. I was thinking about the duckies and looking at a threesome of adults swimming below when lo and behold! Baby Ducks galore! I counted not two, four, or eight ducklings, but a whole herd of NINE duckies PLUS the five from yesterday and last week! I thought surely they must be more than two families but no, all nine ducklings belonged to one mom and five to the other. The nine were considerably bigger than the five, almost full grown, but they were still playing like kids. I think that the five might be a slightly different breed of duck, as their mom is smaller and more downy than the others'.

The raven was back again. He flew over the bridge as I was standing there. It looks like his feathers have begun to grow back. It still always feels ominous when I see him but he really hasn't been a portend in the past, so I wonder why. I want one of his feathers to add to the altar I built on the large oak dresser in our bedroom.

A large Red-tail also did a fly-by as I was watching the ducks, but he didn't seem to bother them. There were several other birds of prey riding currents over the river, and a large bird crouched on a small island, too far out for me to see. I wished I had binocs... or even better, a camera with a zoom lens, it's like a wildlife reserve right in my own back yard!

Justin was pleased, yesterday on his way to meet me at the river, he got to watch the EPD K-9 unit training their attack dogs in the canoe track. He gets so giddy to see the Shepherds all happy and running and running and growling!! His gleeful reaction is somewhere between cute and unnerving.

Today is my last Scuba class. I'll have my written final and last swim lab before the trip to the coast this weekend. Guess I'll find out today if Rob has been able to come up with a Local Diving instructor so that Justin can come with us.

tipping the scale...seeking balance
I've had a lot of people comment recently about the dual nature of my personality. One moment I'm chipper as a schoolgirl, the next I'm intensely introspective and melancholy. No, I'm not bipolar or suffering from multiple personalities, I'm just subject to my star sign. I'm what the astrologers call a "true libra." A person who is both patient and attentive but who also likes to talk a lot and do many different things. I value order and chaos equally in my life. I need a routine but not TOO much of a routine. I take both sides of an issue and argue against myself. All things equally. I'm not a hypocrite, I want to understand why all people think what they do. If there's one thing I need in my life, it's controversy. I crave it, I crave knowing the excitement, understanding the players, and figuring out what moves them. I like being a part of controversy even more than I like witnessing it. I get a thrill out of pissing someone off and justifying myself. I love to argue... constructively, mind you. I love the passion. Life without passion is just ... blah.

I'm not unhappy. I have a pleasant life, everything I need. I'm just seeking a bit of controversy to motivate me, to give me a reason to keep awake. Nothing too dramatic, just a little passion to infuse the mundane.

unplugging the fridge
PART THREE: wasting away

This is part three to my three-part commentary on eating disorders. This section is basically just an editorial or commentary, less of a summary than the first publication, less personal than the second, a bit more opinionated. If you'd like to read the other two posts, you can find them here:

PART ONE: quod me nutrit, me destruit
PART TWO: A Look in the Mirror

For additional information on the "pro-choice" eating disorder movement, please see The Thin Page.
For my dialogue with the curator of The Thin Page, please read The Anorexia Debate. Specifically, these posts:

-A Total Lack of Balance
-The pursuit of happiness & balancing the scales of "selfishness" (my long post)

wanderlust
I talked to a gent at the SRC yesterday. Mostly, I think he was trying to hit on me and failing because I was about 20 years younger than him. He first told me that I had a runner's body which, aside from being an obvious pick-up line even in a gym, I found very flattering. We did talk for some time and he asked me a lot of things about myself. IF you can't tell, I like to talk about myself, so talk I did. I told him what I was studying, what I do for work, where I'd like to go, etc etc. I've had this conversation plenty of times before and the reason I haven't gotten sick of having it yet is because it makes me confident. When I tell people that I'm nineteen, almost a senior, a magazine journalism major, Japanese minor, in the honors college, able to work most technical aspects of computer science without formal training, the publisher or a university magazine, a travel fiend and generally well off, I get a lot of jaw-dropped stares. It's like I have the resume of a superstar. It sounds so good. It sounds good to me too but I usually feel like the life I live is average. I know I'm a dreamer and an idealist but also a neurotic and an overachiever. I'm not a hypocrite, I'm just a libra. The life I live seems, by my standards, normal. When I have the chance to recount it to someone who hasn't heard it all before, I get a little (Read: big) thrill out of them telling me how far I'll go, how I'll never have any trouble getting a job, and how I'll succeed at anything I try. I love hearing this because usually I'm not convinced.

I don't know where I'm going. Sometimes I don't even know where I've been. I have no idea what I really want to do. I lack some of the optimism that would make me pleased with the value of my accomplishments. It means a lot to me to feel like whatever I pick, I can do it... but I know this isn't the case. I have a wanderlust and my only real desire is to fill it. So I ask myself, and now I ask you... what's better? To take the life that I've been given (and would inevitably have the option for even should this phase end), a life of comfortable residency, marraige, children, a job, money, etc... or to reject domesticity and fulfil my wanderlust, not settling for a home or a steady relationship until, one day, if at all, I want it. I tend to see ignoring the wanderlust as the WORST option, because I think it would eventually destroy me. I have too many questions to be ignored. Unfortunately, all past attempts to really free myself have only ended in getting back into the same rhythm again because of social, monetary, or physical constraints. It's also hard to break and run from the only life you know. Domesticity can be as much an unhealthy addiction as anything else. I would feel like it was killing a part of me not to acknowledge my urge to go it alone. Maybe I'll find someone who really wants to come with but is independent enough to seek themselves? But I feel so selfish and guilty for visualizing a future in which I cut ties to people and places because they can't come with me. It happens, even if you don't want it to.

Should I just be happy with what I've got/ could have?
Should I indulge the wanderlust and see what's out there?

blessing
for the first time since the last cycle

I feel the goddess Kali in my soul.

I saw her in a vision today, her eyes bright and burning;

she comes when the wheel of threes is complete.

she is madness, dark and great,

she nutures my fire, births my muse,

she is breath to the light of creation.

but she is destroyer of my empires,

she is the fall of men.

she loves me and she hates the life I build

if not for the chains I bind her in, if not for her unwilling cage,

she would raze my haven to the ground

she would leave me naked an exalted in pure solitude.

I welcome her inspiration and dread her wake

come, goddess, let us enter the circle together

take me down the spiral path.

when nothing's sacred
Been feeling a bit empty this morning. Kind of devoid of all that's important. I know it's the sleep loss talking but I still can't help but feel that something critical is missing from my life. Maybe it's that 'unique and mysterious' etheriality that The Rules talks about. Maybe it's love or passion or imagniation. Maybe it's just sleep. Meh.

When I think of what defines me, I've started to think of this weblog. Not as 'it' but as an aspect because I put so much into it, and keep so little from people. The definition of what it and I become has changed since it became much les of a personal outlet and much more of a spectacle- the Journal that mutated from symbiont to parasite and grew out of control. I have to admit, part of me is flattered by the attention to my exhibitionism but the part of me that doesn't want to be defined by what I choose to write is slowly growing. Maybe it's time to put a lock on this door and open another one.

If I run, will you try and find me?

if god kept a weblog, where would he host it?
From Friday night's rainstorm:

"Katie: Hey you guys, look at that cloud, it looks like a big penis... and it's making a mess!
Dave: Usually when it rains, they say it's god's tears...
Kat: Um... yeah... that's gross, I don't even want to think about it.
Murray: Wait... that's not a mess, that's a butt!
Kat: It's not a butt, it's a sheep! Are you saying god's gay?
Justin: That'd make sense what with the clergy and all...
Katie(??): If god were gay, would he be a top or a bottom?
Dave(??): Probably a bottom.
Kat: What are you talking about? He likes fucking people over so much I'm sure he's a top. (pause) We're all going to hell.
Justin: I'm sure the pope just woke up screaming.
Murray: The pope just woke up and wondered, why does my ass hurt?"

Play Fair
Justin's out of town this weekend so I've spent the last day over at Katie and Murray's house remembering what it's like to be in a home with roomies and not semi-domesticated. Was good refreshment. Saturday morning I got up and biked to the market to commission a new skirt for my Garb closet. Once I got together with Murray, Colie, & Katie at their place, we went to the Country fair a la LTD. Quite the place to be on Saturday, apparently! I would have bought tickets for today too, but they're ungodly expensive. Still, the fair *is* an experience. I was almost disappointed at my apathy. A few years ago, I would have gone ballistic at the opportunity to take place in something so rife with magic... something so fae. But yesterday I was an observer. Not neccesarily an outsider but I just accepted what I saw. I didn't really play. I feel bad for not getting more into it. I certainly exceeded the level of normalcy of a greater number of people at the fair. By the end of the day though, I was several pendants and a few body paints richer so I fit in better. Katie and I were quite tempted to remove our shirts and get our breasts body painted and run free like little fairies but we didn't find the good body paint booth until later in the day and by then it was a bit too late to be affordable.

I can't believe the fairgrounds though. Talk about incredible.... winding loops and paths and streams... and booths built into trees and knolls and groves. An amazing place, truly. So many people there were really into it, letting it all go in eclectic mix of bodies, costumes, and props. It was really great... next year I'll get more into it, dress as strangely as possible. It was a unique experience. I'm not sure Justin would be that into it... it was like a ren faire but a bit more hippie. Something I would play at but might be too fae for him. I'm still sad he missed it.

Afterwards, we BBQed at Murray/ Katie's house and about fifteen people came over bringing hoardes of food and drink. God, there were about twenty hamburgers, sausages, fish, portabella mushrooms, veggie burgers, chicken, mashed potatoes, potato salad, corn on the cob, zucchini, cookies, etc etc etc... We all got a little sloshed and stoned and sat around talking in the living room and on the porch for hours. It was good not to feel lonely with Justin out of town. I'm glad I know I can make it on my own. ^^ It was so satisfying to be with friends that I'm really comfortable with. I haven't felt this close or accepted within a group since high school.

People crashed pretty early and I went to sleep on the couch around two. In the morning, we cleaned up an bit and made beer pancakes with some leftover Henrys. (Didn't want to waste the guiness ^^) I'm home and just hanging out for now; nother BBQ at Sara's tonight and perhaps time for a swim beforehand. Ahh summer, you do treat me well sometimes. Don't leave too soon.

thank you, summer
Tonight was summer as I needed it.

I met Justin on the bridge after lifting weights and we hiked down to the riverbed and dove into the rapids. I was a little hesitant at first, not knowing how far downstream this would take us, but the water was wonderful and we got across just fine. Every morning and afternoon I look at the river and it beckons me. Well, I finally tasted it (it tastes like ass, mind you) and I want more! We waded in the flat of the river and built cairns of our own. There are several beautiful eddys, canyons and waterfalls where the deep meets the flat, and we stood on some of the outcropping rocks and watched daredevils swim the rapids. We found a long birch branch that had been stripped nearly clean by the current and ran our hands over it. So smooth... we peeled more bark off it for a few minutes and left it in the water. As I was climbing, I heard a few little peeps, and a momma duck with four little babies swam right by two feet in front of me! The babies were all excited but the often got distracted and would have to "run" on the water to catch up. It was so cute I almost cried! I was all excited by the duckies and ready to die happy when I heard another peep and the fifth duckling swam by. He was so far behind and he could catch up and his momma couldn't hear him! So we tried to tell him where they were but he was stupid and got distracted and went the wrong way! STUPID DUCKIE!! Then I almost cried because I thought he might die without his family, so to save my tender heart Justin hopped in the river and corralled the ducks like a border collie. They went back the right way but the stupid misfit babie was behind some rushes so he couldn't see em. Then, when he finally did, he got excited and jumped straight into the rapids which just ended up shooting him farther down the river. STUPID DUCKIE!! Well, that's natural selection for ya.

Then I sang this song as we made our way back: "Chickies and duckies are my favorite things! Chickies and Duckies have tiny little wings! Chickies and Duckies with bargeque sauce! Pop em in your mouth with a little backhand toss!" I also found this picture when I was looking for chickie pictures on Corbis today. Isn't it traumatizing?? WAAAAHHH... I have to admit tho, the OH SHIT look on that chickie's face is hilarious!

Anyway, after hurling ourselves out of the river, coming home, showering off, and eating dinner, we went to Prince Pucklers where we met up with Murray, Katie, Dave, and Colie. They have the best damn ice cream. (Double scoop Koffee Chip and Galaxy in a waffle cone... mmmm) We all sat outside and shot the breeze. It was warm and still, definitely "clothing optional" weather. As we sat, the sky began to light up with intermittant bursts of heat lightning followed by the occasional roll of thunder. We chased the storm and went to a park near Dave's house where we laid in a spiral in the grass, heads on each others' bellies, and watched the sky. It rained a bit, warnly, and the occasional lightning is still flashing across the sky. We played tag in the darkness and talked random liberal politics before heading home. I lit the last extra-long sparkler and sat alone on the play structure by the sand volleyball court and watched the lightning fork through the clouds. Storms are romantic...

This storm is special, because it's a dark moon storm. Dark moon and full moon storms always have special significance to me- the air is full of a deeper kind of energy. I suppose that's just ionization. It runs through me and is especially poignant here, where storms are so few. It makes me both incredibly relaxed and energized at the same time. I miss that of Michigan summers most of all.

Tomorrow, Katie, Murray, Colie and I are going to the Country Fair... another classic summer moment to be foretold. I'm sad the tickets cost so much, as I have little to go on until the end of the month ($230) but little to pay for with what I do have. Might as well spend it all! Ah summer, you do love me after all.

Unplugging the Fridge

PART TWO: looking in the mirror

This is my own experience being mentally "borderline" to an eating disorder. It's a chance for me to examine myself and my mental tenets, as well as justify why I think I understand where people with EDs are coming from. It's an attempt to set up some of the comments that are to come in part III. This post is not an excuse for me to whine about why I was depressed and sorry for myself (and I know it wasn't that bad), nor is it grounds for me to brag about how healthy my lifestyle is now, despite being nearly obsessive about diet and excersize. Part Two expresses my own fears about weight, self-image, and eating and explains the possible rationality for other people's disorders.

easter eggs and overheards
Boy, the things you can overhear in a locker room.

"The other day I picked up a wasps nest and because I thought it was dead I put it to my ear and shook it. It wasn't dead." If she thought it was dead, what was she listening for? Didn't she thing of that?

Today, three women in the shower were talking about pornographic easter eggs in Disney movies. They mentioned all the classic big ones:

-The Lion King: The "sex" dust cloud. (I think it's the scene where Simba sighs and lays down, could be the one where Rafiki scatters the dust... I could never see it until one day, BAM! There it was.)

-Alladin: Alladin says "teenagers take off your clothes" while being attacked by Rajah on Jasmine's balcony. Yes, he does say it. Turn up the volume. It sounds like "Down kitty, nice kitty... (mumble) take off your clothes." I guess it could be CLAWs... but it's more fun this way.

-The Little Mermaid: erections everywhere. Especially when the priest is trying to marry Ursula and Eric. Check out his pants.

-The Rescuers (the Original, not down under). This one was just re-released on video two years ago. They did a recall shortly after. Turns out some animator was yukking it up way back when and inserted two frames of a naked woman in a city window. This occurs during the first albatross flying scene (where they take off in winter). We kept our copy.

I'm actually glad the animators have a senes of humor. I'm sure teenagers have thought of sex before seeing the Lion King and I'm sure no one's actually been swayed into taking off their clothes. My sisters and I had a hayday once and actually found all these easter eggs in the videos. Does anyone know of any other classic Disney easter eggs?

50 things i miss about michigan summers
ninety degree heat
fireflies
ice cream trucks
sneaking to the seedy neighborhood quickie mart (Summit grocery)
crickets
water balloon fights
backyard barbeques
tree forts
Ann Arbor
sleepovers
watching tv all day
cicadas
KOSCC
ninety percent humidity
skinned knees
the pool
going to anime film clubs
ice cream trucks
sprinklers
fighting with boys
celebrating full moon solstices
swingsets
Arbor Drugs
mosquito bites
the fantastic five
being too hot to move
daddy long legs
sweat
the huron river
popsicles melting faster than you can eat them
squirt guns
trips to the cottage
"what do you want to do?" "i dunno...whadda YOU want to do?" "i dunno"
lake michigan
the basement
running through sprinklers
my paper route
downtown
smelling breakfast cooking
sudden rain
dairy queen
sneaking online late at night
being grounded
hamburgers
grass stains
being constructively bored
sand
the Palace
petsitting
thunderstorms

Unplugging the Fridge
PART ONE: quod me nutrit, me destruit

This is PART ONE to a three-part commentary on my recent involvement with the "pro" eating disorder community. By involvement I mean investigation and experience... not that I support them. As a disclaimer to this piece, I would like to say that I am not trying to make friends or enemies here, just speak my opinions and mostly, recount and chronicle my own experiences and how they relate to what I've read and seen over the last two weeks.

the ties that bind
yes, there will be a lot of posts today. I'm feeling a certain clarity that I haven't had for a while, so I think I'll write. I just came back from the gym and was suddenly struck that I know so many more people there than I did a few weeks ago. I seem to be quite popular with the guys in a rather pally way. I've never been good at making female friends. I feel threatened by other women. One of the guys I know has an identical twin and today I mistook him for his brother. I was so confused. I've been given the nickname "detroit" by a group of three black bball players from NW Christian college who lift at the SRC regularly for. They were once having a conversation about how stupid it is to see people try and act like "gangstas" in the NWest and I couldn't help but interject. I grew up in Michigan, not really metro Detroit, but I had a lot of experience with at least feeling like gangs were around. Before I moved, Justin and Alex were always going on and on about how there were so many drive-bys in Bellevue by the mall and when I did move, I found out this was total bull. I pictured a veritable massacre and only found a few pacific-islanders who THOUGHT they were tough and that it was "cool" to look like gang members. There really aren't gangs around here, or in Bellevue... at least, not ones that matter. This irony struck me when I first moved here, so I told these guys (who were laughing about it) that I felt the same way. We're pretty much been friends since then... they're all really nice. :) Next week, Justin and I will be having dinner, wine, and jacuzzing with Andrea and Cole again (our grown-up friends). I guess we did make a good impression on them, after all. ^^

I was thinking about all this while running, especially the interconnectedness of people. I saw myself as a great tree with leaves above and roots branching out below. I think when we meet, we entertwine. When we part, we either let the connection linger, not caring whether it lives or dies (and either is possible), we nurture it, or we try to disentangle a living connection and rip each other apart. The first two are natural, the second is not. You cannot disentangle a living connection without insipring death. You can only let time and the flow of nature determine whether it lives or dies. Much against our wills, sometimes strong twinings live even after we part, and that "knot" is something that causes us as much pain as joy. We cannot nurture it and we wish it only to pass peacefully but we cannot force death on that which is determined to live.

Actually, the way I saw all this in my mind was rather more like a great network of lines of energy and nodes which are the essence of being. When we connect with someone, we direct a line of our energy into their node and our energy mingles with their energy both inside of us and through the line which connects us. I think, generally, the connection has to be mutually accepted or the line can't be nurtured at will die. Where we meet is neither the color of one node nor the other, but a mingling of both. When we part, with acquiescence, the lines fade or they linger, lessened. I think that under certain strange circumstances, there can be a one-way connection or an interaction so strong that even after an attempt to force the line closed (painfully), it remains as strong as ever. When it does close, it leaves a wound in each node that is an emptiness of essence, a bruise that is the place still coloured by the other person, that is both you and them.

I've left too many people behind. I have a lot of bruises. I have a few lines I nurture, many more that have died, and some... that persist. I know what it feels like to give too much of yourself and then force close a connection that won't die. Like a razorblade, like giving your soul a charley horse. And then you want that part of yourself back, the part that you gave, the excess. You want it back to fill the hole where it left. But you can't ask for it back because it is no longer yours, it is another color, it is equally of another essence. And to ask for a return would be to ask for a gift that most people cannot give, a gift that would empart more tha is bargained for.

I ritualized giving an excess of energy once. I said "here, take of this, it is mine. you will always remember." There's so much given in even normal interaction that actually forcibly making a gift of my essence was a dangerous thing to do. I never realized it unti after. Until I spend a few months poking the bruise and realizing that there was a chunk of myself that I hadn't missed because it had been shared, and now was completely gone. The problem is mutuality. When a going away is mutual, the line shears in the middle. When one node gives more than the other and the *other* tries to cut the connection, the giving node suffers a deficit. When something is given as a gift, it is shared until the line is sheared and then it is gone. There is no giving back, you only keep what the other side has given in return. Or sometimes you can hack and hack at a line, fail to kill it, feel the void, and still be haunted. That feeling can kiss my ass. I think you know what I'm talking about, Blake.

Reference note for Confessional post: confusion

After working out and experiencing varying degrees of synethesia, I went to the showers. The same two people were there that've been there the last few days; a morbidly skinny anorexic woman (middle aged) and a strange, mottled-skinned asian girl. The asian girl was looking down at the tile, watching the water flow into the drain and the spray was plastering her hair to her neck. I couldn't help but think how much the short hairs on the back of her neck, straightened by the force of the shower, looked like a bar code. How wonderful this world can be... how wonderful, strange, and sad.




Your magical style is Druidic.

What type of Magic do you work?. Take the Magical Style Quiz by Paradox

note and update
Slight mod to the webcam... more flattering angle so now you get more of my chest and less of the top of my head. Oh yeah, I've got LOADS of self-respect! Whee! Also added "most recent posts" so you can keep up with me when I'm talking my ass off. Probably a temporary thing.

Speaking of self-respect, a side note to the "sex" entry below: I'm all about the honesty, personal or otherwise. This isn't about me being honest with the world really, because its so personal. It's about being honest with myself and with my partner. I believe in embracing both the parts of yourself that you love and those that you fear. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. You should love both your yin and your yang. Keeping them both safe (if they're fragile, which I generally feel that mine are not) may require concealing parts of them from people. But truly, it's only be seeking, exploring, and experienced that life can be lived fully.

That, and a deep satisfaction that we got 6 boxes of cereal at Albertsons for ten bucks! I kid you not! This is better than costco, guys... so go to Albertsons while you can (actually,the deal thingy is supposed to start friday but we happened to be there yesterday and saw the notice and they were nice to us). I'm serious, this 6 for ten thing includes Basic Four, Cheerios, Honey Nut Chex, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Trix, Wheaties, Kix and... um... any I'm forgetting. That's like $1.60 a box for shit that's usually over three or four bucks a box. You may laugh that this makes me giddy but you know what it's like to be starving, poor college students. Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? Justin's mom gives us like $200 a month on an albertsons card. We're just misers. Ah, to be spoiled. And to have lots of cereal for pot munchies. Life is grand! Luvvin the small stuff...

5,000 strong and growing
I just hit 5,000... I know a lot of those are my own from checking in and refresh edits... but it makes me feel good that some people are interested in what I have to say.

Coming tomorrow, part One of Three... my thoughts on eating disorders, a special broadcast brought to you by a half-eaten macaroon, six freezer-cold m&ms, and a fat-free frozen-yogurt milkshake. Sponsored in part by The Thin Forum and The Ana Debate.

SEX

Disclaimer: This post contains TMI (Too Much Information). If this might hurt your feelings, feel too personal, too embarrasing for you, or in some way offend you, for gods sake, please stop reading. I take no responsibility for your emotional well-being. If you have no desire to know about my thoughts on sex or picture my personal life, this is not the post for you. Pretend I'm someone you don't know and move on; you've read worse. If you're really curious about my own exhibitionist tendencies, writing this does embarrass me. but it really shouldn't; this post is more philosophy than hormones, anyway... it's about the the dischord that happened in my mind during some part of last night. It's a rant and a melodrama. As is, now that you've seen the disclaimer, I know you're hooked. So enjoy and don't laugh; we all have issues.

Composed 7/10/02, 2:00-2:30AM, notebook paper style:
"i think we may have a problem. maybe it's not a "we" problem but a "me" problem. the hardest part in determining things like this is whether they rest in part or in whole with the individual. usually, it seems that both and neither are the case. so i'm mentally fucked. mentally but not physically, if you want a double-entendre.

so yeah, here i am, pen and paper in hand at two in the morning because sometimes when i'm upset i can't talk and i can't listen, but i can write. the writing is its own little dialogue and, in the end it's the same as talking to a priest or a best friend because i have all of them inside of me and through the words they come out.

it's late and we were going to sleep, but now you're in the other room with the light on and i wonder if you'll be sleeping on the couch. i wonder what you're thinking of me after what just went down. i wonder if what you're thinking is true. i don't know why exactly you got up and left instead of asking me questions instead of offering accusations. does it make sense to distance yourself further from someone when you're already at opposite corners of the bed?

i'm sure it must be my fault for opening up, for trying to acknowledge the little cynic inside who wanted to tell you what was on my mind. we don't really ever talk about anything, so why should this be any different? sometimes it seems like our conversations are all one-sided or accusatory if they're deep, shallow if they're not. sometimes one of us will throw something provacative at the other without even saying, "catch!" well, it looks like we dropped the ball on this one.

a touchy subject? yes, yes, and yes again. i consider myself an open person, i would tell you anything, especially if you asked. but we seem to have some difficulty talking on the same level; call it intellectual competition? we have a hard time talking especially about this. it's too personal.

you know what's bothering me by now. i'm a fluke. i'm nineteen and i've got no libido. i don't miss it, didn't notice when it left, could live without it... but it worries me that its absence will somehow mess up my life. i didn't ask if you noticed because i think it's self-evident. but really, there are so many other things in my life. so many things and so little passion. i treasure my spirituality and my sexuality but despite my liberal paradigm, it's beginning to seem obvious that i have some deep wound in my emotional psyche that prevents me from really letting go. i'm too young for this. so what could it be? i have a few ideas.

could it be that i'm bored? work is the same every day... routine is sucking the life out of me... i feel domesticated. that's not sexy. the stupid thing is that for the first time in my life, probably ever, everything i need is at my fingertips. i'm neither too rich nor too poor. i have comfort, love, shelter and so on. and it bores the living fuck out of me. so i'm a drama queen. i need something exciting to keep me going. i'm not ungrateful for anything i have, or anything you've given me... i'm just not being challenged. why do i need challenge? that's just the way i am.

someday i'll want a quiet life. someday maybe i'll want to be loved like everyone else. i'm not sure what all this means, but it's certainly more than sex. it's always more than sex. so i feel like a failure and a fluke. i tell myself i couldn't care less but obviously i do. maybe i should see a doctor or a psychologist... or see someone else. but i don't think that's the answer. i'd rather we be happy. i think that someday i'll venture off into the great blue yonder. despite what you say, i don't think i'll spend all my time abroad dwelling on stupid things. i'm not that trite.

i don't know if any of this plays into my lack of interest. maybe it's something hormonal, some stupid by-product of The Pill. i never seemed to have this problem before the Archdemon Depo. But, maybe i did. i don't think i've ever been able to let go with another person. it's not that it doesn't interest me, quite to the contrary. i'm quite comfortable with myself and i treasure my sexuality. maybe i just spent so many years being pre-conditioned to spending time ""alone.""

but now it's a sort of "waste not, want not" feeling. i don't *need* it, so i don't *want* it. . i shouldn't need it to want it, that being the problem. i think i'm supposed to see it as some sort of recreational activity or spiritual event, and i can't make it more than a strange ritual. maybe it's as much your fault as mine. maybe it's that it's always about one person or the other and never both and because i can't make it otherwise, i don't care to play the game.

in any case, now i've made it an issue because i opened my big fat mouth and was honest about it.

but i can't believe you would turn it around on me. you try to say i'm too neurotic, that i'm too tense, that i focus too much on details. you know it hurts me when you try to deconstruct who i am. you can't change me. i don't try to change you, do i? so maybe my paradigm inhibits me from seeing the forest through the trees but i like the trees, damn it. my life *is* in the details. i know i have neurotic tendencies, i know i worry too much, but it enables me to see things that others would never see. the tradeoff is a different insight than laid-back, accepting people like you have. maybe there's too much forest in your life, did you ever think of that? we are fire and ice. (or more accurately you are earth and fire and i am air and water...) between us, some things will get better, others won't. some things may never work. you still hurt my feelings but i didn't get up and leave. i wonder, do you want me to come find you? do i want to know what you're doing? i think i'll let you be and try to find out what's the problem in my own thoughts.

should i ignore this and just keep going? you tell me to let go, but it's not that easy. i want to be everywhere at once, i want to KNOW things; i'm so intent on the details that i can't be free to experience unrestrained. so where's my childlike inhibition? sometimes i think i've cloistered her. i cling too hard to my ability to be wild and free because i'm terrified of losing it. i've locked that wild girl inside a cage within myself so that i can never lose her, but she can never leave. maybe i was never a free spirit. even in elementary school my peers told me to lighten up. perhaps this is the price of being an old soul.

this is all the drama i need to keep me going for a little while. am i an emotional vampire? maybe i am. was it a bad idea for us to live together? maybe it was a bad idea to speak my mind; a bad idea to write this. actually, i do feel better, even though i'm trying to sleep alone. i'll let you do your thing because i love you and i know you'll come back. that's one thing i'm certain of.

as for the rest of it... i don't know what to think."

**written last night, some loose ends now resolved, many not. i need to save it anyway, i need to mull over it... because, dammit, that's just the way i am! i didn't sleep alone and i did wake up feeling better, though the day was somewhat lame. dinner was nice, etc. still haven't talked much about what went down last night. seems that he's more touchy about it than i am. that kind of hurts because i feel like it's about me.

note to J: i know you'll read this, i hope it doesn't bring you down. it really isn't anything that hasn't been said or that you don't know. it's still a bit personal, a risk i take in posting it. but at your request, i'll take it down or lock it. i just needed a place to save my thoughts and saw no real need to hide it.