another weekend alone.
i can only hope for continued success and further travels.
i don't know why i enjoy the space so much. i guess it's because of a shared existence for so long now that the time alone had become very infrequent. and i never appreciated time alone before marriage. so i never knew how wonderful it was, or could be. i was always trying to fill it.
but instead of busting my own chops first thing in the morning, i'm going to focus on being positive...
with my quiet day, that is slightly warmer than the rest have been lately, i will do the following things:
1. i will work on my story.
2. i will have food and coffee that make me happy.
3. i will write a letter of encouragement to a friend.
4. i will enjoy the silence.
the story is up to 63 pages now, but more specifically, 30k words. i'm pretty happy with it, though as i went back and read the ending (written at about the halfway point in the story's completion), there were some things that didn't work at all, that i'm going to have to fix.
food and coffee can be had at a place that is making a donation to haiti relief, so that is a very small way that i can help. i'm quite successful at not watching the news/reading the paper/whatever. i get all of my info from friends, sporadically. so i really know nothing about haiti, except that there's an earthquake and that a lot of people died and that it was pretty severe. but if i can eat and help, then i'll do that.
which reminds me. the only time i ever did anything for charity, or relief, rather, was when katrina happened. i was so broke then, but i gave $50 to the red cross to help, because i felt like i HAD to do something.
so i generally don't complain about global situations, but also do nothing to help. i guess i'm kindof an asshole. ignorance has always worked for me. not well, by any stretch, but it's a defense mechanism. if i don't know, i can't get upset about it.
watching the news is just so depressing anyways. and fear inducing. and at least half of it isn't really news at all. and what's left is probably mostly spin, so...
i'm becoming cynical and a conspiracist in my old age? ugh.
the letter to a friend is really just a returned email. he sounded sad. thought i'd brush off his knees and boost his ego a little.
and about the silence: i'm a person who fills my ears with music. all the time. i cannot work without it (in coffee), i usually cannot write without it on in the background. but the last couple times ever has left me alone in the house, i have refused to turn on any music, for the ENTIRE time.
somehow sitting in the silence makes me feel even more alone. and for whatever reason, i'm perfectly happy being alone. i always thought that being alone meant feeling lonely. for me, it always did.
and now all i ever want is to be left alone. to do what i want, when i want, on my own time. to not be told what to do or when to do it. to not be guilted into spending time together. i mean, i've been spending more time with my friends, so it might not be fair at all to even call it being alone.
but i do like the time by myself, and the occasional time with my friends.
and it feels bad to say it, or write it, but i feel like i can really be myself when i'm alone, or even when i'm with my friends. i hate that i'm a slightly different version of myself when i'm with ever. i feel like i can never be completely honest.
i mean, we talk, and i'm honest. but sometimes i feel like just being with him is a lie of some kind. i felt that way last when we had dinner with his mom. like my being there at the dinner table with him and her was some kind of a lie.
like we were silently attesting 'everything is fine, mom, we're great' by being there. when we weren't great at all.
that is how i mean that it feels like a lie. because i tell him that i'm working on it, thinking about us, trying to figure things out. and in a way i am. but in another way, i've already made up my mind about it.
i don't feel like i can be happy with him. and i also feel like i could be happier if i was with someone else. but right now, i think i'd be happiest if i was just ALONE.
and, then, a story about last night...
i had a rough night last night. i felt like i was caught in a trap. snagged in mire. i went somewhere that i wasn't aware that i was going. slightly tricked, though it wasn't intentional. ever failed to mention a key piece of information when we were invited somewhere.
kit and i felt so completely out of place, it was horribly awkward. neither of us are yuppies, but in our surroundings, we BECAME yuppies. complete with logo'd cups of coffee from the place i HATE. i hated having their coffee in my hand as it was, but the fact that i had it in my hand, in the place where i was standing? worse. if it had been a movie, there would have been music playing before we walked in, and when we walked in, the record would have screeched to a halt. followed by a laugh track.
but we made a good time of it. dancing with maybe two or three other people in a room full of people. we'd never see these fools again, so what did it matter?
at least, most of the time, when you're in a socially awkward situation, you can drink. that will not only take the edge off, but will also give you something in common with the people around you. make you feel a little less different.
but we were three hours from home, so drinking was not an option.
we stuck it out, and as it got more crowded, i didn't feel like the people were so much staring at and judging us. and then we left to be home by 3 am, and it was over.
a quiet ride home. well, a ride home with really loud awesome music, but not much talking. we had an intruder in the car, who ever had so kindly volunteered us to take home, maybe it just made more sense (to me, anyways) to not talk at all. i was afraid i'd forget he was there, and say something that would unravel something else.
but now i know. and i learned a lesson. next time, get all pertinent details BEFORE traveling three hours from home. because ever doesn't always think to give important details. because he loves to say, 'you didn't ask'.
january 9.
so, the year is better so far.
it doesn't feel as critical as it did during the end of december, which was only a week or two ago.
there was a tiny bit of time away, and space.
and what i chose to do with it was PERFECT.
i spent an entire day on facebook with nina. just talking, playing scrabble, back and forth. from maybe ten am to ten pm.
between that, i started this short story.
it's really a pretty neat idea. i had it one night, probably laying in bed. i started to write it, just as i always do. start at the beginning.
i intended for it to be a short story, to add to the little mini-pile in the fiction section to the left.
only it took on new life, and is quickly becoming a novella, if i had to guess. one page became five, became ten, became twenty one, now thirty one.
i've never written anything so long in my life.
and it was totally an accident.
i've been telling my friends who know about my writing habits that it feels like i'm a vessel in a way. i just type and the words come and the ideas multiply. there's character development. which was never necessary, as i ever only write about myself, my life, my dreams, my daydreams.
it's very exciting. it makes me wish that i could make money at writing, quit my day job, and just write all day. i'd probably get bored fairly quickly, but it would be nice for a little while!
and now that i'm reading and writing all the time, i don't know how i ever got along without it.
i can't wait to work on my memoir, when this story is done. i always knew i'd put one together. to this point i made a little screened zine of lines from journals that stood out to me at the time (four years ago?). but the stories i wrote out, and the details i chose to capture, and the way i chose to remember something, they seem pretty quality to me, when i read back.
and now the only decision i have to make is whether to use real names or not. because in a way, i don't really give a fuck about what the people think. in the zine, i used real names. i mean, my friends who are still friends won't care if i use their real first names. and the people who aren't, well their opinions don't matter much to me. and i'm a vindictive girl, a little written revenge might serve all those assholes right anyways.
and that is my new year, in writing.
i'm really very excited. the story is coming along nicely. there's enough substance to it now that i have to start taking notes on character and names and dates, to keep the inconsistencies to a minimum. there's a timeline to cover the course of months that pass in the book.
anyways, it's going to be my year. i can feel it. even if it doesn't mean that i break free from the things that sometimes feel like chains that bind me, i'm already happier, and that makes me smile.
it doesn't feel as critical as it did during the end of december, which was only a week or two ago.
there was a tiny bit of time away, and space.
and what i chose to do with it was PERFECT.
i spent an entire day on facebook with nina. just talking, playing scrabble, back and forth. from maybe ten am to ten pm.
between that, i started this short story.
it's really a pretty neat idea. i had it one night, probably laying in bed. i started to write it, just as i always do. start at the beginning.
i intended for it to be a short story, to add to the little mini-pile in the fiction section to the left.
only it took on new life, and is quickly becoming a novella, if i had to guess. one page became five, became ten, became twenty one, now thirty one.
i've never written anything so long in my life.
and it was totally an accident.
i've been telling my friends who know about my writing habits that it feels like i'm a vessel in a way. i just type and the words come and the ideas multiply. there's character development. which was never necessary, as i ever only write about myself, my life, my dreams, my daydreams.
it's very exciting. it makes me wish that i could make money at writing, quit my day job, and just write all day. i'd probably get bored fairly quickly, but it would be nice for a little while!
and now that i'm reading and writing all the time, i don't know how i ever got along without it.
i can't wait to work on my memoir, when this story is done. i always knew i'd put one together. to this point i made a little screened zine of lines from journals that stood out to me at the time (four years ago?). but the stories i wrote out, and the details i chose to capture, and the way i chose to remember something, they seem pretty quality to me, when i read back.
and now the only decision i have to make is whether to use real names or not. because in a way, i don't really give a fuck about what the people think. in the zine, i used real names. i mean, my friends who are still friends won't care if i use their real first names. and the people who aren't, well their opinions don't matter much to me. and i'm a vindictive girl, a little written revenge might serve all those assholes right anyways.
and that is my new year, in writing.
i'm really very excited. the story is coming along nicely. there's enough substance to it now that i have to start taking notes on character and names and dates, to keep the inconsistencies to a minimum. there's a timeline to cover the course of months that pass in the book.
anyways, it's going to be my year. i can feel it. even if it doesn't mean that i break free from the things that sometimes feel like chains that bind me, i'm already happier, and that makes me smile.
rtw 117.
12/2/09 hair.
recently my hair was cut. too too short. i'd been growing it out for so long. my instructions were perfectly fucking clear. i didn't mince words. i didn't use non descriptive words.
don't take any length off the front. cut downward. at an angle. so that the back is short and the front is still long. IGNORE MY BANGS. DO NOT CUT IT TO MY BANGS. just a trim. short in the back, long in the front.
and goddammit if he didn't cut it straight around my head to match my bangs. and, at the, the BACK IS STILL LONGER! what the fuck???
all for money. i gave up pretty eyebrows and a precision cut to save $30-$50, give or take.
i missed the scalp massage of ladies with long, fake fingernails. the best part of the haircut.
all for $50? missing the payoff of six months' refusal to cave to my want of shorter hair. NOT WORTH IT. i will not make the same mistake again.
recently my hair was cut. too too short. i'd been growing it out for so long. my instructions were perfectly fucking clear. i didn't mince words. i didn't use non descriptive words.
don't take any length off the front. cut downward. at an angle. so that the back is short and the front is still long. IGNORE MY BANGS. DO NOT CUT IT TO MY BANGS. just a trim. short in the back, long in the front.
and goddammit if he didn't cut it straight around my head to match my bangs. and, at the, the BACK IS STILL LONGER! what the fuck???
all for money. i gave up pretty eyebrows and a precision cut to save $30-$50, give or take.
i missed the scalp massage of ladies with long, fake fingernails. the best part of the haircut.
all for $50? missing the payoff of six months' refusal to cave to my want of shorter hair. NOT WORTH IT. i will not make the same mistake again.
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