Muddy Waters
Ugh, jeez. I have no idea what I want to write. I hate feeling like I have to play catch-up in my own life. There's a lot to say but I'm not sure if any of it matters. I think I have to stop and try and remember why I started writing this journal. I can tell myself was for my own sake... but that's a lie. I started this journal as a shout-out because I needed to be heard by someone and this was the only way to do it. Now, I don't really need to shout anymore, I don't need the ulterior motive of this journal. I can vent to listening ears without the delay of writing.

There really is something invaluable about a blog, though, besides the audience. It gives me a chance to experiment with prose. This chronicle has really kept me sane when I've needed a venting ground or a place to store ideas (my brain doesn't work too well for that). So, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, I'm just recouping.

Why? Well, allow me to explain. I came back from Christmas vacation in a state of manic euphoria. As these things go, it didn't last very long. In the aftermath, I'm more down than up, especially with the impending decision about study abroad. If you remember, I was raving a while back about applying for a year in Waseda. Well, I did it. And, paperwork be damned, I'm following the application process all the way through even if I decide not to go. A year is a long time and will change me in ways I can't imagine. There's no way I WON'T come back but when I do, I'll be different. I've been dissecting my motives for wanting to take the trip. First there's the experience of being abroad. As a writer and a seeker, travel is insanely important to me. I have a terminal wanderlust and this is the first experience I've ever had to really indulge it. I also value the experience for the language and cultural learning opportunities. But everyone says that. I want to escape and look at where I am from the outside, both physically (from another location) and metaphysically (outside of my current socio-emotional sphere). In a way, I'm running away. I have to ask myself-- am I fleeing or re-evaluating? It depends on context. There's really only one thing that makes me want to run away and it's this all-encompasing, preoccupying, energy-sapping triangular relationship that I'm a part of. Like I said, I really should talk about it... but it takes so much energy for me to phrase it in a linear context outside my own mind that I'm not even sure I'll get around to it. When it comes down to it, I'm confused and scared. I don't want to be trapped and divided... I don't want to hurt anyone I love.... I don't want to have to remember how hard it is for me to forgive myself.

Anyway, this last weekend gave me some insight into the direction my motivations are taking me. I need to make a change. I need to tear down the walls and face this head-on. It's the only way I'll be able to decide to leave in clear conscience.

So that's what's keeping me silent: I'm really muddled by the contradictory fears and desires evolving inside the sphere of my relationship within the context of me leaving for a year. It's a big, big thing. I'm scheming and I hate it. The only way out is to have those god-awful conversations that make me sick and leave me shaking for hours. I've been depressed on and off lately, mostly because I either feel misunderstood or (when I am understood) like the bad buy. I feel like I'm going through a breakup with my SELF.

But I've also been extremely busy with classwork and other things. Friday evening Justin and I left for RingCon and didn't get back till 6:30 yesterday when we promptly left again to hear Maya Angelou speak on campus. Friday night was depressing as hell. After a huge nap in the car Justin and I had one of THOSE talks where we basically came to terms with the fact that we may not be together after this summer. Though this may be for the good of both of us, there's nothing that makes me feel ill like facing an impending catastrophe. Thankfully, he was loving and accomodating and forgiving even while fearing the worst.

When we got to the Con, I was surprised what a small space it was held in. The hotel was barely large enough to house the vendors and staff, much less the visitors. Justin and I were splitting a room with two of the other Knights at a Best Western down the road. The Con was technically over for the night but we wandered around and greeted familiar faces, all the while feeling that we were out of place because we were still dressed as "mundanes." We went back to the hotel and to bed early even though the show the next morning wasn't till 10.

I had lucid dreams. It's this damn book on dreaming that Alex gave to me. I'm pleased I'm dreaming lucidly again and so easily, but it makes me fear my subconscious even more.

Saturday was... long. The Con was extremely small and extremely noisy. It wasn't in a convention center or hall, the way cons often are, but set up so that events were held in small conference rooms and Vendors sold right out of their hotel rooms. Too many people in a miniscule space. I had a headache almost immediately. All things said and done, the knights performed wonderfully and listening to Brad Dourif (wormtongue) was definitely interesting.

But. When the show was done, the drinking started. It was 3PM.

I don't have much to complain about; the evening was fabulous but in an utterly overwhelming way. Some of the Knights have some SERIOUS emotional walls that come down when they drink and I was exposed to a lot of drama in a rather uncomfortable way. After dinner, I had to decide whether I wanted to call it a night and stay sober because I was a bit low, tired, and depressed, or if I wanted to chance- for the third weekend in a row- that heavy drinking and revelry would carry me through a late night.

We went down to the bar.

No, I'm not 21 and I didn't *intend* to order anything. But before I knew it, people were buying me drinks left and right. And why should they card me? I look at least 24... So I had a white russian, and then a mai tai, and a "screaming orgasm" and some rumplemintz, and another mai tai... and... shit. Well, I was drunk beyond drunk and no one believed me becaues I can still form complete sentences. But I met some amazing people and had an INCREDIBLE time at the dance across the hall. There was live fiddle music in one of the conference rooms with a small dance floor. Justin and I crammed through the drunken throngs and into the centre of everything and just let go. I felt myself move freely in a way that I'd only dreamed about.

The dance ended at 1AM and things slowed down as people tried to sober up. We didn't get back to the hotel until 4 AM and woke the next morning at 9:30 to get ready for checkout. It was a long and intense night in a way that I don't think I can write about here right now. I'm still recovering.

Yes, I did get Brad's autograph. And he's a very nice man, if a really CREEPY looking. In fact, I got two autographed photos and may auction one on ebay. If anyone's REALLY interested, let me know here and we can talk : )

Yesterday almost killed me. After four and a half hours of sleep with that much alcohol in my blood, my body shut down on the ride home. I recouped after some sleep but it was difficult to motivate myself to make enough food to sustain me through the evening.

At 7:30 Justin and I heard Maya Angelou speak-- if any of you out there at the UO didn't go, shame on you-- she was absolutely amazing. If I remember, I'm going to buy her autobiographies so we can read them. I can't believe how little I know about her.

Anyway, that's the BASIC summary of the weekend. I'll get into more detail as it becomes apparent through my clouded brain. Today I'm still walking through a haze, despite the great weather. When I woke up this morning, I couldn't bring myself to go to class... I tried getting out of bed and was utterly crippled by a bout of depression. So I apologize for this sorry excuse of an entry... Some Mondays you just can't get it going.