(no subject)
I can't stand looking at these recent entries. They're all so empty. Maybe if I sit here and try to write something filling, well, I'll feel better about things.
I've settled into a comfortable routin here in Milw. So comfortable, in fact, that's it's lost much of it's charm. This move back to Madison is well-timed, for my sanity's sake.
I feel sick. It's hot and sticky and this makeup feels very unpleasant. I've been consuming empty calories and not exercising and I don't like the way I look and feel. Earlier, as I was riding to work, I wondered to myself if I'd be okay with the body I have at present if I were exercising it. I don't know. Endorphins and so forth put everything into a better light, but I worry that I've become too taken with a specific physique, ie a runner's.
Well, one thing is clear: I don't love this body right now. If I did I'd be taking better care of it, and thus it would look better, and oh look it's a cycle of esteem!
I think the sausage factory is slowly driving me insane. I'm surprised it took this long to do so. I'm getting out just in time. The two monologues I alluded to in the last entry are becoming a bit too much. The bitchy one is getting louder, more insistent. Things aren't rolliing off the way they used to. I get so angry at the lack of ethics, personal responsibility, and casual homophobia of the place that I forget to step back and see the truth at its most basic: I'm getting paid to put up with this. It doesn't matter. Just do your best. Despite all the frustration however, I'm glad for the experience. It's a great reality check after living in the land of affluent white coeds, you know? There are a great many people that I like personally (though not necessarily profesionally). I'll miss gesticulating frantically while speaking horribly fractured Spanish with Latin words thrown in as a last-ditch attempt to get someone to STOP THE MACHINE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT'S GOT MY HAND!!! Yo soy manca ahora!!!! ay! mi sangre!!! doler! doler!
Moving on. It's also helped me to cope with awkward social situations. Oh dear god, so very awkward.
Last but not least, I've learned a great deal about fascination, which for me is part love, part lust, but mainly curiosity.
To sum up the here and now, I feel clenched. I must let go, desperately. Let go of all of it, let it in, let it out. The off-center feeling has passed. Now it's just...tension.
I've settled into a comfortable routin here in Milw. So comfortable, in fact, that's it's lost much of it's charm. This move back to Madison is well-timed, for my sanity's sake.
I feel sick. It's hot and sticky and this makeup feels very unpleasant. I've been consuming empty calories and not exercising and I don't like the way I look and feel. Earlier, as I was riding to work, I wondered to myself if I'd be okay with the body I have at present if I were exercising it. I don't know. Endorphins and so forth put everything into a better light, but I worry that I've become too taken with a specific physique, ie a runner's.
Well, one thing is clear: I don't love this body right now. If I did I'd be taking better care of it, and thus it would look better, and oh look it's a cycle of esteem!
I think the sausage factory is slowly driving me insane. I'm surprised it took this long to do so. I'm getting out just in time. The two monologues I alluded to in the last entry are becoming a bit too much. The bitchy one is getting louder, more insistent. Things aren't rolliing off the way they used to. I get so angry at the lack of ethics, personal responsibility, and casual homophobia of the place that I forget to step back and see the truth at its most basic: I'm getting paid to put up with this. It doesn't matter. Just do your best. Despite all the frustration however, I'm glad for the experience. It's a great reality check after living in the land of affluent white coeds, you know? There are a great many people that I like personally (though not necessarily profesionally). I'll miss gesticulating frantically while speaking horribly fractured Spanish with Latin words thrown in as a last-ditch attempt to get someone to STOP THE MACHINE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT'S GOT MY HAND!!! Yo soy manca ahora!!!! ay! mi sangre!!! doler! doler!
Moving on. It's also helped me to cope with awkward social situations. Oh dear god, so very awkward.
Last but not least, I've learned a great deal about fascination, which for me is part love, part lust, but mainly curiosity.
To sum up the here and now, I feel clenched. I must let go, desperately. Let go of all of it, let it in, let it out. The off-center feeling has passed. Now it's just...tension.