Just when you think something is going well, the tide turns without warning. It's probably something that I feed on and loathe at the same time. Through all of my thoughts right now.....I'm hungry.
Fundamentals or overtones? It used to be an easy choice because I never thought about it. I just looked at the words and went with whatever words came to mind. I never really understood the difference between them. I can't say I honestly do today either. Did that change the results of the test or make it even more true?
What conversations should never be had? Just about all of the ones that the inner sense of peace attends to. I'm in such an automatic mode right now. It truly is my way or the highway; a signature survival mode that I cherish for the strength it brings me and endure for the pain it inflicts.
My heart attack is still a few years off.
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
brotherly love
A letter to my mother's cousin... how does that work now? 1st cousins, once removed? Or is it 2nd cousins? Someone e-mail me... lol
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
Thursday, January 31, 2002
creative process
I started reading "Equal Affections" by David Leavitt yesterday. I'm almost half way through the book. Steve (Harrison--8th Grade English teacher) lent me the book probably about five years ago. If I would have actually read it then I wouldn't be able to relate to much of the book as I can today. I'm the age of one of the characters in the book....it's weird.
I went to the MENSA website a couple days ago. I had no idea what mensa was really. Glad to know now that it's simply a "table." haha
I've been awake since 7am. I didn't hit the sheets until 1am...and I tossed for about 30 minutes before actually sleeping. The last few nights there have been an invasion of thoughts as I lay down next to Randy. His body is always warm, sweating. The blanket is often slightly moist from his sweat and I wonder what types of dreams he's having. I feel that sometimes I may make him cold. I'm warm soon enough. Coming up on 13 months, I'm in pioneer territory for me and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes as I fall asleep. They trickle across the bridge of my nose and I'm happy.
It's a beautiful blue day today. Shower...lunch...a car wash & some gas. Domestic suburbia here I come.
I went to the MENSA website a couple days ago. I had no idea what mensa was really. Glad to know now that it's simply a "table." haha
I've been awake since 7am. I didn't hit the sheets until 1am...and I tossed for about 30 minutes before actually sleeping. The last few nights there have been an invasion of thoughts as I lay down next to Randy. His body is always warm, sweating. The blanket is often slightly moist from his sweat and I wonder what types of dreams he's having. I feel that sometimes I may make him cold. I'm warm soon enough. Coming up on 13 months, I'm in pioneer territory for me and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes as I fall asleep. They trickle across the bridge of my nose and I'm happy.
It's a beautiful blue day today. Shower...lunch...a car wash & some gas. Domestic suburbia here I come.
Wednesday, January 30, 2002
believe me, I know
I had some thoughts I wanted to share with someone and I couldn't think of who I wanted to talk to so I wrote a letter to Mark. I wrote the letter two days ago....
HERE IT IS:
===========
2:43pm
Friday, January 25, 2002
I’ve only been here at work for a little over one hour and the shift is already dragging. That’s a bad sign. I’m at that stage in my working environment where the newlywed feelings are gone, the initial challenges of learning something new are gone and I want something more. The problem is that EVERY job is like this. I have this fear that teaching might end up being the same thing…. But I talk myself out of that conclusion by saying that each day will be different and new and a challenge—especially with kids today; trying to get them to comprehend life, become self aware, inspire them to seek out something they may never have thought of before, all the while competing with the media, the internet, pop culture generalities. (And in the process learn something myself about all the things that I think I already know.) That’s why I tell myself---the dream. The reality is that even DanceSafe, though inconsistent and challenging , has lost its luster. I’m great at starting things. I have a passion that explodes, but that’s all it does. After the explosion all I do is clean up and move on. There isn’t a whole lot of directed passion...and that kind of sounds like an oxymoron.
5:40pm
I’m back from my lunch. 30 minutes. Not long enough. I get home, throw together something and then am shoving it into my mouth as I walk out the door to come back here. Here. I might have told you once that when I was in second grade I sometimes cried myself to sleep praying to god to make me “normal.” I wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to be smart. I didn’t want to stick out. Here I am, about twenty years later and I’m still wishing for the same thing deep down. I wish I could be normal; satisfied making a decent wage and working for a great company. Perhaps I just need medication. (Said in jest, but the irony is that if I were on meds 24/7 then I’d be that one step closer to being like everyone else in America. Hah.) A look at the clock…I still have over four hours left in my shift.
I look at my hands a lot; not the palms, but the backs of my hands. Over the years I’ve watched how they’ve become older. I measure “older” by the way the “cracks” around the knuckles have become more pronounced when I put my hand flat on a surface. The wrinkles slowly move out away from the knuckle more and more, fine little lines. I always paid attention to my grandmother’s hands and the hands of my great-grandmother. Maybe it’s because of the way they touched me—gentle. I don’t know for sure. Maybe I’ve always been fascinated by hands and have just paid close attention. (I doubt that) When I think of my own aging, I don’t think about the lines around my eyes or my hair, I just look down at my hands. Today they say, “Jeremy, the goddamn finger nails need to be cut soon.” And I listen.
7:35pm
I’ve moved cubicles at work. They’ve put all of us gay people in the same aisle. I wonder if it was purposely or if it just so happened that this is the way it worked. I think it’s kind of funny, but one of the other guys doesn’t think so. Understandably, if we were purposefully put here because of that reason it would be wrong, but I don’t think so. On one level I’m comforted being around family, on another level I’m not. They’re “older” family….probably mid 30’s. (If they’re younger than that, oh well, my bad---and their bad skin.) I feel so disconnected from gay life right now. I’m not sure how much of what I’m about to type will be welcome by you. I ultimately choose to share and I figure you’ll blast me with the M.W. Waters stamina that I’m used to when it comes to opinions
2:50pm
Monday, January 28, 2002
I’m in a post vitamin E mellow lull. Not low, not hyper, simply calm. I went to SPUNDAE on Saturday night. It’s a predominantly straight club in the Circus building behind Arena. The muscles from my jaw, radiating up toward my temples have a slight soreness to them still. I was smart enough to have gum, so I didn’t bite my tongue all that much. I came to a couple of conclusions during this last trip. 1) The fun I’ve experienced in the past 2½ years is about running it’s course. In many ways I feel the same way I did a few years ago when drinking all the time became mundane. 2) I’m a nerd, and I always have been. I’ve become more secure with this over the years, but I’m still not comfortable in straight environments---even though there’s nothing anyone is doing, it’s all a circus in my head that I’m still trying to clown around in.
I just realized that I hadn’t finished my thought from Friday. My thoughts on being “disconnected” from gay life: I feel like I want more of family than a “family.” I think that gay culture, after observing and being part of it for the last 10 years, has shown me that in addition to being a microcosm of the overall society, it’s also a culture that doesn’t want to be defined like the rest of society and lives by somewhat more open-minded definitions of relationships. I’d much rather be Jeremy than gay Jeremy. As I’ve always stated in my college presentations, being gay is a piece of who I am. Honestly though, it’s quite a bigger piece than I let on. My world is pretty much immersed in gay. Gay friends, roommate, dance clubs, organizations that I volunteer for. Save my job, school and DanceSafe, there isn’t much that isn’t gay. In this paragraph I’m not comfortable with “gay” and in the one above I’m not comfortable with “straight.” I think I’m just not comfortable in social situation period. I don’t relate well. I feel outside.
I had my first experience of straight-boy fever. On Saturday night, Nathan’s cousin, Jenny, brought her boyfriend, Chris. Chris was just a dream. I had to purposefully dance away from he & Jenny most of the night because he was so cute. He was totally your type too. He has dark hair, Italian, smart, 25 and very down to earth with no prejudice and no “weirdness” about being around gay guys. When he took his button down shirt off to reveal his tank top and arms of steel, I couldn’t stop stealing glances. The ironic thing is that Jenny has always thought I was cute and constantly makes comments about “getting me alone” or “converting” me. In fact, she was making these comments while we were all waiting in line to get into the club (a 90 minute wait) right in front of Chris. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable for him, but I think that was mainly my own nervousness. When we got into the club, his cuteness magnified exponentially when we went upstairs and he leans over to me and says while pointing, “That’s where I met Jennifer.” You could tell in his voice he was excited. They’ll have been together for one year this Feb 10th. Later in the evening I asked when they moved in together. Without as much of a heartbeat he responded with, “October 4th.” I was taken by how he recalled the information as if it was intimately important. At the end of the night he was going home, but Jenny wanted to continue on to Spike with the rest of us. As he shook my hand and hugged me goodbye, he said, “You’re a good dancer. Take good care of my girl tonight.” You can imagine how bad I felt about five minutes after getting into Spike when Jenny lit up a pipe and took a puff with security watching her. She was kicked out immediately. =(
4:57pm
My lunch starts at 6pm tonight. I’ll print this letter out and take it home. Tomorrow I’ll mail it and you should receive it by Wednesday. This is assuming that all is well with the U.S. Postal Service and that no major anthrax problems have halted delivery. Do you have a book that you could lend me to read? I’m still itching that maybe I’ll read some more. Maybe it will inspire me to write more. Maybe.
Let me know when you have some free time to hang out. Preferably some night rather than a quickie lunch. Until soon.
HERE IT IS:
===========
2:43pm
Friday, January 25, 2002
I’ve only been here at work for a little over one hour and the shift is already dragging. That’s a bad sign. I’m at that stage in my working environment where the newlywed feelings are gone, the initial challenges of learning something new are gone and I want something more. The problem is that EVERY job is like this. I have this fear that teaching might end up being the same thing…. But I talk myself out of that conclusion by saying that each day will be different and new and a challenge—especially with kids today; trying to get them to comprehend life, become self aware, inspire them to seek out something they may never have thought of before, all the while competing with the media, the internet, pop culture generalities. (And in the process learn something myself about all the things that I think I already know.) That’s why I tell myself---the dream. The reality is that even DanceSafe, though inconsistent and challenging , has lost its luster. I’m great at starting things. I have a passion that explodes, but that’s all it does. After the explosion all I do is clean up and move on. There isn’t a whole lot of directed passion...and that kind of sounds like an oxymoron.
5:40pm
I’m back from my lunch. 30 minutes. Not long enough. I get home, throw together something and then am shoving it into my mouth as I walk out the door to come back here. Here. I might have told you once that when I was in second grade I sometimes cried myself to sleep praying to god to make me “normal.” I wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to be smart. I didn’t want to stick out. Here I am, about twenty years later and I’m still wishing for the same thing deep down. I wish I could be normal; satisfied making a decent wage and working for a great company. Perhaps I just need medication. (Said in jest, but the irony is that if I were on meds 24/7 then I’d be that one step closer to being like everyone else in America. Hah.) A look at the clock…I still have over four hours left in my shift.
I look at my hands a lot; not the palms, but the backs of my hands. Over the years I’ve watched how they’ve become older. I measure “older” by the way the “cracks” around the knuckles have become more pronounced when I put my hand flat on a surface. The wrinkles slowly move out away from the knuckle more and more, fine little lines. I always paid attention to my grandmother’s hands and the hands of my great-grandmother. Maybe it’s because of the way they touched me—gentle. I don’t know for sure. Maybe I’ve always been fascinated by hands and have just paid close attention. (I doubt that) When I think of my own aging, I don’t think about the lines around my eyes or my hair, I just look down at my hands. Today they say, “Jeremy, the goddamn finger nails need to be cut soon.” And I listen.
7:35pm
I’ve moved cubicles at work. They’ve put all of us gay people in the same aisle. I wonder if it was purposely or if it just so happened that this is the way it worked. I think it’s kind of funny, but one of the other guys doesn’t think so. Understandably, if we were purposefully put here because of that reason it would be wrong, but I don’t think so. On one level I’m comforted being around family, on another level I’m not. They’re “older” family….probably mid 30’s. (If they’re younger than that, oh well, my bad---and their bad skin.) I feel so disconnected from gay life right now. I’m not sure how much of what I’m about to type will be welcome by you. I ultimately choose to share and I figure you’ll blast me with the M.W. Waters stamina that I’m used to when it comes to opinions
2:50pm
Monday, January 28, 2002
I’m in a post vitamin E mellow lull. Not low, not hyper, simply calm. I went to SPUNDAE on Saturday night. It’s a predominantly straight club in the Circus building behind Arena. The muscles from my jaw, radiating up toward my temples have a slight soreness to them still. I was smart enough to have gum, so I didn’t bite my tongue all that much. I came to a couple of conclusions during this last trip. 1) The fun I’ve experienced in the past 2½ years is about running it’s course. In many ways I feel the same way I did a few years ago when drinking all the time became mundane. 2) I’m a nerd, and I always have been. I’ve become more secure with this over the years, but I’m still not comfortable in straight environments---even though there’s nothing anyone is doing, it’s all a circus in my head that I’m still trying to clown around in.
I just realized that I hadn’t finished my thought from Friday. My thoughts on being “disconnected” from gay life: I feel like I want more of family than a “family.” I think that gay culture, after observing and being part of it for the last 10 years, has shown me that in addition to being a microcosm of the overall society, it’s also a culture that doesn’t want to be defined like the rest of society and lives by somewhat more open-minded definitions of relationships. I’d much rather be Jeremy than gay Jeremy. As I’ve always stated in my college presentations, being gay is a piece of who I am. Honestly though, it’s quite a bigger piece than I let on. My world is pretty much immersed in gay. Gay friends, roommate, dance clubs, organizations that I volunteer for. Save my job, school and DanceSafe, there isn’t much that isn’t gay. In this paragraph I’m not comfortable with “gay” and in the one above I’m not comfortable with “straight.” I think I’m just not comfortable in social situation period. I don’t relate well. I feel outside.
I had my first experience of straight-boy fever. On Saturday night, Nathan’s cousin, Jenny, brought her boyfriend, Chris. Chris was just a dream. I had to purposefully dance away from he & Jenny most of the night because he was so cute. He was totally your type too. He has dark hair, Italian, smart, 25 and very down to earth with no prejudice and no “weirdness” about being around gay guys. When he took his button down shirt off to reveal his tank top and arms of steel, I couldn’t stop stealing glances. The ironic thing is that Jenny has always thought I was cute and constantly makes comments about “getting me alone” or “converting” me. In fact, she was making these comments while we were all waiting in line to get into the club (a 90 minute wait) right in front of Chris. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable for him, but I think that was mainly my own nervousness. When we got into the club, his cuteness magnified exponentially when we went upstairs and he leans over to me and says while pointing, “That’s where I met Jennifer.” You could tell in his voice he was excited. They’ll have been together for one year this Feb 10th. Later in the evening I asked when they moved in together. Without as much of a heartbeat he responded with, “October 4th.” I was taken by how he recalled the information as if it was intimately important. At the end of the night he was going home, but Jenny wanted to continue on to Spike with the rest of us. As he shook my hand and hugged me goodbye, he said, “You’re a good dancer. Take good care of my girl tonight.” You can imagine how bad I felt about five minutes after getting into Spike when Jenny lit up a pipe and took a puff with security watching her. She was kicked out immediately. =(
4:57pm
My lunch starts at 6pm tonight. I’ll print this letter out and take it home. Tomorrow I’ll mail it and you should receive it by Wednesday. This is assuming that all is well with the U.S. Postal Service and that no major anthrax problems have halted delivery. Do you have a book that you could lend me to read? I’m still itching that maybe I’ll read some more. Maybe it will inspire me to write more. Maybe.
Let me know when you have some free time to hang out. Preferably some night rather than a quickie lunch. Until soon.
Thursday, January 24, 2002
jet setting
I'm making so many travel plans lately. Art's 26th b-day is next month and he's planning his normal Las Vegas getaway. In May, Big Randy, Lil Randy, Bobby & I are going to go to San Francisco to partake in the Colossus Weekend circuit party. I was giddy purchasing the tickets online tonight.
Winds are a blowin' hard tonight. I can hear the trees banging up against the apartments. The sky will be so blue and clear tomorrow because of it. Beautiful.
I e-mailed this total stranger tonight because something instinctively told me to do so. It's that weird, inner connection feeling. He reminded me of Laney. I haven't heard from him since New Year's... I hope he and Shane are well in their new home together.
Randy is fast asleep in bed. I'm just now starting to get tired. Time for teeth brushing...face washing...yawn... heavy eyes say goodnight.
Winds are a blowin' hard tonight. I can hear the trees banging up against the apartments. The sky will be so blue and clear tomorrow because of it. Beautiful.
I e-mailed this total stranger tonight because something instinctively told me to do so. It's that weird, inner connection feeling. He reminded me of Laney. I haven't heard from him since New Year's... I hope he and Shane are well in their new home together.
Randy is fast asleep in bed. I'm just now starting to get tired. Time for teeth brushing...face washing...yawn... heavy eyes say goodnight.
Thursday, January 17, 2002
processing
THE PROCESS OF PROCESSING: A WORK IN PROGRESS
6:17pm
I just got in from my "lunch" break. My fingertips are pink going to purple. (Call)
6:25pm
Okay, that girl was either new or hadn't a clue on basic troubleshooting so my body temperature just brought my fingertips back to pink/red. I can feel the blood rushing back to them./\/\/\ Something else that I never thought I would see---never thought of really---were naked pictures of James on the internet. It was quite the experience after lunch for Mark and myself today. I'll admit some level of desire to be portrayed in the buff, but not immortalized on the internet for all the world to right click and then "save as."/\/\/\I want to go out tonight. I was out Tuesday night with Chuck. Mickey's was "okay." I wasn't expecting much so I wasn't disappointed in going. I just realized right now why my calves---(call)
6:32pm
---hurt so much. I actually did dance pretty hard. At the end of the night they played "Rapture" bye IIO and that was enough to get me on the box. It felt strange dancing there---(call)
6:33pm....still on the call. This dipshit calls me for help and then wants to argue with me on how to help him.
6:37pm
((I ended up hanging up on him))---up on the box because of how much older I know I am than most of them. Almost a whole decade. I was quite winded after that song; surely an affect of the imbibing.(Call)
6:40pm
It's difficult writing with the constant interruption of work, but I'm falling asleep with my head tilted back, staring at the flourescent lighting. I am being paid to sit here and babysit these customer service representatives. That's the reality. Hold their hands to make sure that they're doing their jobs correctly and for those rare calls where they've done everything, then I'm being paid slightly more for my "technical" expertise. That's laughable, but somehow true..somehow /\/\/\I'm going out tomorrow night with Bobby so I'll stay in tonight. Rest. I feel like I never get sleep even though I'm sleeping a lot. I remember this situation from years ago. I'm wretched inside. I shared my thoughts with Mark today about the idea of therapy for myself. (((My conversation with Mark should be another process in the process))) I had never voiced that to anyone--not that there would be many to voice it to anyway. (Call)
6:51pm
I think a therapist would tell me the obvious, that if working things out are making things in me so chaotic that I shouldn't do that to myself. Communicate. Find coping skills. (call)
6:57pm
I think going to a therapist would allow me freedom and an out...but to what? (call)
7:04pm
I still have three hours left here. In some ways I feel like fabric has been torn that cannot be stitched in me, or that stitched, it will still never be the same. I wonder sometimes if I'm just weak and clinging to my emotions. (call)
7:13pm
I just sent D.R. a text message about the last call I had because I believe it was his rep. Laziness. I shouldn't talk really, look at me. Hahaha....and yet, I'm still DOING my job. (Call)
7:15pm
How long to make this entry? I remember Mrs. Dallas saying that your essay should be like a girls' skirt; short enough to keep interest but long enough to cover everything. I think now how risque that was for 7th graders to hear, but I'm glad she told us. It was pleasing./\/\/\I'm back to trying to drink water more often. I think my desire to go out is also a desire for aerobic activity. I want ---(call)
7:20pm
---to trim down to 150-155 again. I'm full of energy more when I feel less like I'm hauling around extra weight. For instance, walking after lunch with Mark today felt good, but I was acutely aware of my stomach and my waistline.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
I'm through for now.
j.r.me
6:17pm
I just got in from my "lunch" break. My fingertips are pink going to purple. (Call)
6:25pm
Okay, that girl was either new or hadn't a clue on basic troubleshooting so my body temperature just brought my fingertips back to pink/red. I can feel the blood rushing back to them./\/\/\ Something else that I never thought I would see---never thought of really---were naked pictures of James on the internet. It was quite the experience after lunch for Mark and myself today. I'll admit some level of desire to be portrayed in the buff, but not immortalized on the internet for all the world to right click and then "save as."/\/\/\I want to go out tonight. I was out Tuesday night with Chuck. Mickey's was "okay." I wasn't expecting much so I wasn't disappointed in going. I just realized right now why my calves---(call)
6:32pm
---hurt so much. I actually did dance pretty hard. At the end of the night they played "Rapture" bye IIO and that was enough to get me on the box. It felt strange dancing there---(call)
6:33pm....still on the call. This dipshit calls me for help and then wants to argue with me on how to help him.
6:37pm
((I ended up hanging up on him))---up on the box because of how much older I know I am than most of them. Almost a whole decade. I was quite winded after that song; surely an affect of the imbibing.(Call)
6:40pm
It's difficult writing with the constant interruption of work, but I'm falling asleep with my head tilted back, staring at the flourescent lighting. I am being paid to sit here and babysit these customer service representatives. That's the reality. Hold their hands to make sure that they're doing their jobs correctly and for those rare calls where they've done everything, then I'm being paid slightly more for my "technical" expertise. That's laughable, but somehow true..somehow /\/\/\I'm going out tomorrow night with Bobby so I'll stay in tonight. Rest. I feel like I never get sleep even though I'm sleeping a lot. I remember this situation from years ago. I'm wretched inside. I shared my thoughts with Mark today about the idea of therapy for myself. (((My conversation with Mark should be another process in the process))) I had never voiced that to anyone--not that there would be many to voice it to anyway. (Call)
6:51pm
I think a therapist would tell me the obvious, that if working things out are making things in me so chaotic that I shouldn't do that to myself. Communicate. Find coping skills. (call)
6:57pm
I think going to a therapist would allow me freedom and an out...but to what? (call)
7:04pm
I still have three hours left here. In some ways I feel like fabric has been torn that cannot be stitched in me, or that stitched, it will still never be the same. I wonder sometimes if I'm just weak and clinging to my emotions. (call)
7:13pm
I just sent D.R. a text message about the last call I had because I believe it was his rep. Laziness. I shouldn't talk really, look at me. Hahaha....and yet, I'm still DOING my job. (Call)
7:15pm
How long to make this entry? I remember Mrs. Dallas saying that your essay should be like a girls' skirt; short enough to keep interest but long enough to cover everything. I think now how risque that was for 7th graders to hear, but I'm glad she told us. It was pleasing./\/\/\I'm back to trying to drink water more often. I think my desire to go out is also a desire for aerobic activity. I want ---(call)
7:20pm
---to trim down to 150-155 again. I'm full of energy more when I feel less like I'm hauling around extra weight. For instance, walking after lunch with Mark today felt good, but I was acutely aware of my stomach and my waistline.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
I'm through for now.
j.r.me
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
shortness of breath
What if I get arthiritis? I guess I can kiss my pianist career goodbye, right? Damn.
I haven't said much this year. I think it's a combination of not much to say and not much processed through my head to say anything anyway. I also think that the less I have to say, perhaps the more centered I'm becoming. That then scares me into thinking up something to say...because being in the middle of things isn't really where I want to be, or is it? Look. I have found something to talk and think about.
I like that I'm not the only neurotic person. My friends are too. Deciding whether or not to be friends with me; deciding on past relationships and whether they dare tread in their own footsteps; finding the balance of weight---and then finding a patience for wait; are there any answers at the bottom of that glass?; Southern hospitality really doesn't wash away all the hurt and anger inside; I wonder, does every star watch me when I dream of peeing on the passing cars?
(I bet they do)
j.r.me
I haven't said much this year. I think it's a combination of not much to say and not much processed through my head to say anything anyway. I also think that the less I have to say, perhaps the more centered I'm becoming. That then scares me into thinking up something to say...because being in the middle of things isn't really where I want to be, or is it? Look. I have found something to talk and think about.
I like that I'm not the only neurotic person. My friends are too. Deciding whether or not to be friends with me; deciding on past relationships and whether they dare tread in their own footsteps; finding the balance of weight---and then finding a patience for wait; are there any answers at the bottom of that glass?; Southern hospitality really doesn't wash away all the hurt and anger inside; I wonder, does every star watch me when I dream of peeing on the passing cars?
(I bet they do)
j.r.me
Tuesday, January 08, 2002
targets
Jonathan & Kristi's wedding announcement arrived in the mail. My phone did not. They're getting married on August 10th. Funny...I was thinking about the decision to marry while showering. I think it was on my mind because of the C.A.P.E. event at The OC Center this Saturday for domestic partnerships. My thought was, "I wonder if there are any auto insurance companies that give discounts for domestic partnerships?"
I split my forehead open the other day. I was walking in the dark toward the bathroom after about four hours of playing Armada II. I thought for sure I was heading in the direction of the door; turns out I smacked full force into the corner of the door frame. Vitamin E and Aloe Vera are my best friends right now. One hit wonders.
I guess it's time to leave for work. School started this week. I thought I had another week to procrastinate. I guess I'll have to do something this week. Tomorrow....yeah, always tomorrow.
I split my forehead open the other day. I was walking in the dark toward the bathroom after about four hours of playing Armada II. I thought for sure I was heading in the direction of the door; turns out I smacked full force into the corner of the door frame. Vitamin E and Aloe Vera are my best friends right now. One hit wonders.
I guess it's time to leave for work. School started this week. I thought I had another week to procrastinate. I guess I'll have to do something this week. Tomorrow....yeah, always tomorrow.
Saturday, January 05, 2002
genes
Wake-up talking, goto Wells Fargo, end up at the relatives' for lunch.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon with aunt, uncle & and cousins. Strange how blood is so gentically close and yet relatively distant. I actually enjoyed myself after getting past the about not really knowing each other. In that sense, how really different is it from being in a rave and talking to complete strangers, save having mutual family members to reference.
I learned that my grandfather is waning. I knew this to some extent, but I could see how my uncle was really seeing mortality closing in. Perhaps it is for him like it was for my mother with my grandmother seeing as he is closer to Grandpa. I can feel that inner sense expanding right now. I can feel a connection of something I don't understand and I feel my mind trying to put meaning to it.
I still have this desire for a close family. I feel a surge within to start contacting people--in small ways--to simply establish a link of togetherness. I miss the big family holiday gatherings. I fear that unless someone tries to bring everyone together those who have passed may have spent a lifetime of raising lost souls. I don't want to be a fragmant.
FLASHTHOUGHT: Mixing oil & water....Randy C. & Mark.
So Heidi graduates on May 17th. It sounds like a great roadtrip. Okay...I'm off to a rave: The 5th Day.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon with aunt, uncle & and cousins. Strange how blood is so gentically close and yet relatively distant. I actually enjoyed myself after getting past the about not really knowing each other. In that sense, how really different is it from being in a rave and talking to complete strangers, save having mutual family members to reference.
I learned that my grandfather is waning. I knew this to some extent, but I could see how my uncle was really seeing mortality closing in. Perhaps it is for him like it was for my mother with my grandmother seeing as he is closer to Grandpa. I can feel that inner sense expanding right now. I can feel a connection of something I don't understand and I feel my mind trying to put meaning to it.
I still have this desire for a close family. I feel a surge within to start contacting people--in small ways--to simply establish a link of togetherness. I miss the big family holiday gatherings. I fear that unless someone tries to bring everyone together those who have passed may have spent a lifetime of raising lost souls. I don't want to be a fragmant.
FLASHTHOUGHT: Mixing oil & water....Randy C. & Mark.
So Heidi graduates on May 17th. It sounds like a great roadtrip. Okay...I'm off to a rave: The 5th Day.
Friday, December 28, 2001
diet life
I'm trying to settle back into Irvine, CA now. It's been a week since I left. I've felt strange back now. Just deciding that you're going to go another try at something doesn't mean that it's easier or harder, it just means that a damn has been unleashed and a river set in motion.
I find that my schedule has me hyper by the time I arrive home after 10pm. I'm the opposite of my roomies and I'm nowhere ready to go to bed like Randy is from his long day; the next to begin again @ 6am. I talked to Anthony (work lead) today about the flex-rep position and I think the hope is that whoever gets it will have a shift that is from 8-5 or 9-6. That would be cool again. Familiar patterns.
Making life happen and living life. Sitting back and waiting for the next curve and adding a little motion to the movement by picking the next page to turn. A lot of what I've been processing this week is the idea that all choices eventually have the same outcome for us. I know a lot of people who will keep that as the main fact in their life and therefore not care about what they do or live "less agressive" lives. That's comforting in a way. I think other people take refuge in "controling" their lives. They have goals, lay out a plan and then work hard to achieve said goals. They are fulfilled by a sense that they have created a structure that they live in; a means that they live reality through. This works for me. At least, it used to. I felt the fabric of this structure unravelling coming out of high school. The thread has just been being pulled ever since. Either someone keeps knitting, or I just have one huge piece of wool to pull off.
Mark's b-day was last week. Randy C's is tomorrow. Forgive me for being less than a friend lately in remembering these things. Can I go away to a Greek island for about a month and come back later. Or blink a light year so that the reality of today is just a few hundred years in the past? No? Okay, well shit then.
Tomorrow I get to see Lorena. Yeah.
I did the dishes today. Funny how the stupid small things in life are what people care most about.
I find that my schedule has me hyper by the time I arrive home after 10pm. I'm the opposite of my roomies and I'm nowhere ready to go to bed like Randy is from his long day; the next to begin again @ 6am. I talked to Anthony (work lead) today about the flex-rep position and I think the hope is that whoever gets it will have a shift that is from 8-5 or 9-6. That would be cool again. Familiar patterns.
Making life happen and living life. Sitting back and waiting for the next curve and adding a little motion to the movement by picking the next page to turn. A lot of what I've been processing this week is the idea that all choices eventually have the same outcome for us. I know a lot of people who will keep that as the main fact in their life and therefore not care about what they do or live "less agressive" lives. That's comforting in a way. I think other people take refuge in "controling" their lives. They have goals, lay out a plan and then work hard to achieve said goals. They are fulfilled by a sense that they have created a structure that they live in; a means that they live reality through. This works for me. At least, it used to. I felt the fabric of this structure unravelling coming out of high school. The thread has just been being pulled ever since. Either someone keeps knitting, or I just have one huge piece of wool to pull off.
Mark's b-day was last week. Randy C's is tomorrow. Forgive me for being less than a friend lately in remembering these things. Can I go away to a Greek island for about a month and come back later. Or blink a light year so that the reality of today is just a few hundred years in the past? No? Okay, well shit then.
Tomorrow I get to see Lorena. Yeah.
I did the dishes today. Funny how the stupid small things in life are what people care most about.
