Has anybody seen the bridge?
It's been a struggle of a vacation week. Compared with other vacations I've had, this has been the toughest to weather. That isn't saying much. Most of my vacations have been spent in a quasi vegetative state, so the fact that I've had to work through this vacation has been a bit of a shock for me. I've grown accustomed to a cushy lifestyle. And I'm only seventeen. This can't be a good thing. I feel like I should start bracing myself for the hardships of later life. If I think having to deliver newspapers over my February break is rough - my brain is telling me "Just wait. Get used to it. Stop whining."
I would now like to apologize to every human being that I've talked to in the past week. I've done nothing but whine to people. I complain of fatigue (I have to wake up at four A.M.), I bitch about the stench and heat of the apartment buildings (like garlic, 80 dry degrees). It's one of the reasons I've been holding off on the journal entries - I almost don't want to have a permanent record of the unpleasant way I've been acting. That's backwards though. You'd think I'd worry more about my personal relationships than with the generally anonymous internet aether. For some reason, I worry more about what my invisible reader thinks of this than what my close friends think of this. It's not making me particularly pleasant to be around.
It's almost over though. Sunday, and I'm through with the paper route. Going back to school is going to feel luxurious.
I'm not feeling particularly introspective today. I spent most of this week trying to recover from the strains on my sleep pattern caused by the paper route. Sleep, write email, read. That was my vacation. Email sucked up all the time I wanted to spend staring at the computer screen, and so I spent the rest of my time reading. Not what I was supposed to read, heaven forbid, and far too many books for me to ever finish in this lifetime.
I read most of Lolita. I'm not sure what possessed me to read most of Lolita. I was primarily annoyed with it, and creeped out. Death, nonchalant death, hiding behind every corner. Not a bad state of mind to spend February break in, though.
I registered four diaryland accounts yesterday. I was bored and had nothing else to do. I had my heart set on "fish" and "bird" and "damn," but they were all taken. I'm not going to mention here which user names I snagged though. I'm saving them for a rainy day. I might turn one into the photo journal, since I'm too lazy to update actual FTP. The names are wonderful. They aren't clever or smart, they just are. They're surly words - all objects and hardly any adjectives - and they're mine. I know, I can hardly bring myself to update this journal. For some reason, I feel so proud of myself for registering all the names.
I'm in a strange state right now. I just picked up another book. I read two pages of it, and felt myself getting sucked into this man's life. He was a cashier at a grocery store. He thought in run-on sentences, as though he were always running out of breath. He talked about the rhythms of the supermarket, how glad he was that he didn't live in the inner city and could still walk to work, and living with his mother. Two pages, and I was attached to him. If I read anymore, I would never want the book to end. He'd probably die, and then I'd have to deal with feeling grief for a fictional character. It happens to me all the time. It's even worse when it's online. I read the things people write about themselves, and feel attached and latch onto them. I'm not going to read that book because I don't want to have to deal with the inevitability that it'll end. Sometimes I'm reluctant to attach myself to people because I know that it's inevitable that they'll go away.
That's like saying I'd rather be an embryo than have to live, because I know that I'll die. I guess it's reassuring that even though I fear death (and any separation), I still attach myself to people. I haven't driven myself (completely) into stasis yet. Am I making any sense today? This is so hard to articulate, and I have a sinking sense that even if I could articulate it I'd just be so far out in left field it would be unimaginable.
Katie4688: mom HATES it when i slurp!
Damn straight.
Mike wasn't joking about the "man" comment in my last entry. He and I now have very different and distinct opinions about what it is to be a man. I did get lectured about "man cramps." Laura had the most enlightening comments about the whole thing. "i decided its cause they want to think of the little pussies that they're licking/fucking/thinking about as nice clean things, not gross things covered in blood." Brilliance. I'm dense sometimes, I hadn't thought of that. She suggested that it isn't such a good idea to write about it though. I decided I don't give a shit.
I put my journal online for whoever wants to read it. I'll spare you any "I write for myself" crud. I just don't expect any readers. I just wrote that, and felt awful. I know that there are people who read this, and I'm glad they're out there. Nothing makes me more upset than reading an online journal and wanting to just slap the person writing it silly. Pretention drives me mad. So does indifference to the audience - if I'm reading I want to feel wanted. At the same time, no one should feel that obligated to read this. If Mike is grossed out by graphic descriptions of menstruation, well, he's the one who chose to read my online diary.
None of this is making sense today. Give me a few days to get back into the swing of things, now? O Aether, you know I still value your company. Even, and especially, when I'm being surly and sleep deprived. Just one more chance. I'll try to update some more.
2000-02-26, I still love you, O aether.
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