Ups and Downs
There are so many ways I want to start this entry.
1) I am beyond dysthymia. I am at the power stage along the edge of the abyss where my dark wings start to unfurl before the fall. The deep caverns behind my mind are opening and lovely, blemished things are seeping out into this dimming light.
2) I dreamed last night that I pulled out all of my internal organs and let them wash away down a river. Half the time I was human, half the time I was a snake. I slit my snake/worm body longways with a scalpel and used my fingertips to tweak my innards out. I had to look away for a split second as they slopped, gray and wet, out of my body. I was lying on the bank of a river, just at the very edge of the water. The gray water swept the mass away and I peered into the curved, open husk of my body. It looked like a yellow, ridged PVC pipe. Then I was human again and a nurse told me that there was a misunderstanding--I wasn't supposed to take out my organs, I was just supposed to wait quietly in the observation room. I tried not to panic. I had one lung left--my left lung. I breathed shallowly while a search party trailed up and down the riverside, searching for my organs. If I breathed too hard, or thought about the fact that my heart and other lung were missing, my body would realize its mortality and I would die. I spoke in whispers. I looked at my reflection in the water and saw, below the surface, a gray brain and lungs tethered by a gray stem. I lifted them from the water and slid them through the slit in my chest. Relief spread warm across my body like heartburn as I felt my insides resting back in their proper places. As the search party found other organs, they put them in jars, labeled them, and sent them to a laboratory. My remaining missing organs had grown back and I didn't need the preserved ones anymore.
I remembered that dream soon after waking up this morning, and all day I've been plagued by the reminder that I need to breathe shallowly and look for my guts when I have a little free time. Every time I go through my checklist of things to do, "Get Guts" flashes by somewhere near the end of the list.
It's not death, it's the not knowing that's so horrible. Sometimes I think having children is cruel--how can you give that fearful question to someone so small and helpless? I told my mother once that I didn't want to have children because I couldn't stand the thought of making them suffer the misery of life. She smiled sadly and said that that was the same thing my father had said about having me. My father finally broke down and had children--will I do the same? Of course, this has nothing to do with actually having kids. It's simply one of the dark things breaking free from closed caves out into my mind. I'm not ill, yet, but I can feel myself slowly sliding in that direction.
3) I made lots of drunken phone calls on Sunday morning/Saturday night. People kept returning them all day on Sunday, which I found to be completely delightful. I was massively, massively drunk, and yet suffered no hangover. Sometimes life is merciful.
I haven't been that drunk in a VERY long time. I remember all of the evening, although there are certainly cloudy parts. I remember standing outside the closed theater on High Street, talking with some random dude with dreds about how we cried when Aerith (Aeris) died in FFVII.
I am SO deep when I'm drunk. ^_^
A man at Bento's (where we were shooting the Sake Bombs that screwed us all up) turned to me at the bar where I was getting some drink I absolutely cannot remember and said, "You have a wonderful complexion." I must have made a weird face because he followed quickly with, "Your face--it has no blemishes." I think I managed a "Uh, thank you," took my drink, and went back to my friends. It was probably one of the nicest and yet creepiest compliments I've ever received.
The evening started at Miki's, where she and I made curry and rice for dinner. Tim came over just in time to eat--his boy/friend had been dying stars into this hair, which had apparently taken most of his Saturday. We enjoyed a few beers, then went bowling. We got lost trying to find the bowling alley, but ended up finding it quickly by accident. A crazy lady a few lanes down, named Nicole, came over and tried to hit on Tim. She thought I was his girlfriend, which made me laugh. She kept trying to rub the stars in his hair. We made friends with the two guys in the lane next to ours. Their names were Danny and Brian, as I recall. We had some more beers and Danny, by way of making friends, bought us some jello shots. We'd never had Bowling Alley Jello Shots, but we thought it was absolutely the cutest thing ever. Brian has been a DJ in the past and is looking to DJ around town. Maybe we'll see him sometime. We then trucked back to High Street where I parked my car in my lot and we walked from there to Bento's.
Towards the end of our evening at Bento's, Melissa, a friend of Tim's apparently (although everybody seems to be a friend of Tim's), started passing out Halloween candy. She was dressed like a witch...sorta. She was lamenting to me that she has abnormally long arms and I was so drunk I felt sorry for her and we compared arm lengths and found out that are arms are the same length. Which either means that I, too, have freakishly long arms, or we were both just really freaking drunk. We kept hugging and showing off our freaky arms.
Some people use drugs, but alcohol is definitely my drug of choice. (Which is probably why I can never get rid of my beer belly.) It makes me happy, it loosens me up, and it lets me do whatever the fuck I want to do. Which is probably the poorest justification for drinking, but it's true nonetheless. I guess it's because I didn't drink until I went to Japan, so my "drinking culture" is more Japanese in nature, but drinking is stress-release for me. And it lets you do things you'd never normally do. Like stand around showing off your freaky arms.
Eventually, we all made it back to my place, where I had the bright idea to made cape cods for everybody. Cape cods are: vodka, cranberry juice, and a slice of lime. Word to the wise: DO NOT USE A KNIFE IF YOU ARE DRUNK. I started cutting up the lime, and it took me a while to understand why the lime was bleeding. There was blood EVERYWHERE and we were all too drunk to do anything constructive about it. I had, in my drunken attempt at tackling that wily citrus vixen, cut the corner of my thumb off. (Never did find it, btw. It must have gotten flushed down the drain.)
I think the best part was the aftermath on Sunday afternoon. I awoke to a bathroom FULL of open and half-opened band-aids. Band-aids are SO HARD to get open when you're drunk. Seriously. I thought doing cigarette-flipping tricks was hard, but no, band-aids are drunkard-proof. We must have spent an hour opening all those band-aids. Miki was the only one aware enough to help me, which was ironic because she can't remember most of the evening. There were bloody thumbprints ALL OVER my apartment. I even found them on the back of my cellphone. On the volume down button of the remote control for my TV. On a kitchen cabinet. There's a perfect on in the middle of my white carpet. On the stove. I keep finding them. I found 2 new ones today. I must have touched everything in my apartment with my bloody thumb.
I was still a little drunk when I woke up on Sunday, but I felt okay. I thought I had done permanent nerve damage to my thumb because I didn't feel anything when I poured rubbing alcohol on it, but that's probably just because the wound had crusted over a little bit. Now that the swelling has gone down, and it has stopped bleeding, it doesn't really look that bad. It's just really inconvenient that I can't use my right thumb for a while. Sure makes for a great story, though. "Yeah, lemme tell you 'bout the time I chopped off my finger, yeah!" Bar stories are the best.
Before we left Bento's, I got to witness my first bar fight. Mr. Complexion was having a fist fight with some random guy on the front porch. Felice tried to jump in and stop them, but thankfully the bouncer showed up before she ended up getting pummeled like the rest of them. (Felice--however you spell her name--is my hero.) ^_^ I ran over to get into the fun, but it was over before I could get my drunk ass outside.
I'll be going out tomorrow night, back to Global--I'll post my entry about my last experience there sometime soon, I hope (I had a manic episode that was really intensely fun and very scary)--because we got invited back to another VIP party there. The VIP room is definitely better than the rest of the club. Until the back rooms fill up with drunk people and you can freak dance with anybody.
Jeez, listen to me. Until last week, I could count the number of times I'd been in a dance club on one hand, and I had never danced in one. Now, I'm planning on going out on a freaking school night. The nerdy "No Play Until We've Finish Our Homework" side of me is still screaming for me to stay home, which is why I'll be pulling a Cinderella at midnight, but being popular is fun. When Mari heard that I'd be able to go out tomorrow night, she sounded really psyched, and, frankly, that's a nice feeling. I'm staying home in Friday night, probably (as I did last week, in spite of the peer pressure to go out for Mexican food and then some), which means that I'm not totally giving in to peer pressure, but it's really nice to belong and it's really, really nice to be wanted.
Alright, off to bed so I can get up and workworkwork so I don't have to worry about homework for tomorrow night.
1) I am beyond dysthymia. I am at the power stage along the edge of the abyss where my dark wings start to unfurl before the fall. The deep caverns behind my mind are opening and lovely, blemished things are seeping out into this dimming light.
2) I dreamed last night that I pulled out all of my internal organs and let them wash away down a river. Half the time I was human, half the time I was a snake. I slit my snake/worm body longways with a scalpel and used my fingertips to tweak my innards out. I had to look away for a split second as they slopped, gray and wet, out of my body. I was lying on the bank of a river, just at the very edge of the water. The gray water swept the mass away and I peered into the curved, open husk of my body. It looked like a yellow, ridged PVC pipe. Then I was human again and a nurse told me that there was a misunderstanding--I wasn't supposed to take out my organs, I was just supposed to wait quietly in the observation room. I tried not to panic. I had one lung left--my left lung. I breathed shallowly while a search party trailed up and down the riverside, searching for my organs. If I breathed too hard, or thought about the fact that my heart and other lung were missing, my body would realize its mortality and I would die. I spoke in whispers. I looked at my reflection in the water and saw, below the surface, a gray brain and lungs tethered by a gray stem. I lifted them from the water and slid them through the slit in my chest. Relief spread warm across my body like heartburn as I felt my insides resting back in their proper places. As the search party found other organs, they put them in jars, labeled them, and sent them to a laboratory. My remaining missing organs had grown back and I didn't need the preserved ones anymore.
I remembered that dream soon after waking up this morning, and all day I've been plagued by the reminder that I need to breathe shallowly and look for my guts when I have a little free time. Every time I go through my checklist of things to do, "Get Guts" flashes by somewhere near the end of the list.
It's not death, it's the not knowing that's so horrible. Sometimes I think having children is cruel--how can you give that fearful question to someone so small and helpless? I told my mother once that I didn't want to have children because I couldn't stand the thought of making them suffer the misery of life. She smiled sadly and said that that was the same thing my father had said about having me. My father finally broke down and had children--will I do the same? Of course, this has nothing to do with actually having kids. It's simply one of the dark things breaking free from closed caves out into my mind. I'm not ill, yet, but I can feel myself slowly sliding in that direction.
3) I made lots of drunken phone calls on Sunday morning/Saturday night. People kept returning them all day on Sunday, which I found to be completely delightful. I was massively, massively drunk, and yet suffered no hangover. Sometimes life is merciful.
I haven't been that drunk in a VERY long time. I remember all of the evening, although there are certainly cloudy parts. I remember standing outside the closed theater on High Street, talking with some random dude with dreds about how we cried when Aerith (Aeris) died in FFVII.
I am SO deep when I'm drunk. ^_^
A man at Bento's (where we were shooting the Sake Bombs that screwed us all up) turned to me at the bar where I was getting some drink I absolutely cannot remember and said, "You have a wonderful complexion." I must have made a weird face because he followed quickly with, "Your face--it has no blemishes." I think I managed a "Uh, thank you," took my drink, and went back to my friends. It was probably one of the nicest and yet creepiest compliments I've ever received.
The evening started at Miki's, where she and I made curry and rice for dinner. Tim came over just in time to eat--his boy/friend had been dying stars into this hair, which had apparently taken most of his Saturday. We enjoyed a few beers, then went bowling. We got lost trying to find the bowling alley, but ended up finding it quickly by accident. A crazy lady a few lanes down, named Nicole, came over and tried to hit on Tim. She thought I was his girlfriend, which made me laugh. She kept trying to rub the stars in his hair. We made friends with the two guys in the lane next to ours. Their names were Danny and Brian, as I recall. We had some more beers and Danny, by way of making friends, bought us some jello shots. We'd never had Bowling Alley Jello Shots, but we thought it was absolutely the cutest thing ever. Brian has been a DJ in the past and is looking to DJ around town. Maybe we'll see him sometime. We then trucked back to High Street where I parked my car in my lot and we walked from there to Bento's.
Towards the end of our evening at Bento's, Melissa, a friend of Tim's apparently (although everybody seems to be a friend of Tim's), started passing out Halloween candy. She was dressed like a witch...sorta. She was lamenting to me that she has abnormally long arms and I was so drunk I felt sorry for her and we compared arm lengths and found out that are arms are the same length. Which either means that I, too, have freakishly long arms, or we were both just really freaking drunk. We kept hugging and showing off our freaky arms.
Some people use drugs, but alcohol is definitely my drug of choice. (Which is probably why I can never get rid of my beer belly.) It makes me happy, it loosens me up, and it lets me do whatever the fuck I want to do. Which is probably the poorest justification for drinking, but it's true nonetheless. I guess it's because I didn't drink until I went to Japan, so my "drinking culture" is more Japanese in nature, but drinking is stress-release for me. And it lets you do things you'd never normally do. Like stand around showing off your freaky arms.
Eventually, we all made it back to my place, where I had the bright idea to made cape cods for everybody. Cape cods are: vodka, cranberry juice, and a slice of lime. Word to the wise: DO NOT USE A KNIFE IF YOU ARE DRUNK. I started cutting up the lime, and it took me a while to understand why the lime was bleeding. There was blood EVERYWHERE and we were all too drunk to do anything constructive about it. I had, in my drunken attempt at tackling that wily citrus vixen, cut the corner of my thumb off. (Never did find it, btw. It must have gotten flushed down the drain.)
I think the best part was the aftermath on Sunday afternoon. I awoke to a bathroom FULL of open and half-opened band-aids. Band-aids are SO HARD to get open when you're drunk. Seriously. I thought doing cigarette-flipping tricks was hard, but no, band-aids are drunkard-proof. We must have spent an hour opening all those band-aids. Miki was the only one aware enough to help me, which was ironic because she can't remember most of the evening. There were bloody thumbprints ALL OVER my apartment. I even found them on the back of my cellphone. On the volume down button of the remote control for my TV. On a kitchen cabinet. There's a perfect on in the middle of my white carpet. On the stove. I keep finding them. I found 2 new ones today. I must have touched everything in my apartment with my bloody thumb.
I was still a little drunk when I woke up on Sunday, but I felt okay. I thought I had done permanent nerve damage to my thumb because I didn't feel anything when I poured rubbing alcohol on it, but that's probably just because the wound had crusted over a little bit. Now that the swelling has gone down, and it has stopped bleeding, it doesn't really look that bad. It's just really inconvenient that I can't use my right thumb for a while. Sure makes for a great story, though. "Yeah, lemme tell you 'bout the time I chopped off my finger, yeah!" Bar stories are the best.
Before we left Bento's, I got to witness my first bar fight. Mr. Complexion was having a fist fight with some random guy on the front porch. Felice tried to jump in and stop them, but thankfully the bouncer showed up before she ended up getting pummeled like the rest of them. (Felice--however you spell her name--is my hero.) ^_^ I ran over to get into the fun, but it was over before I could get my drunk ass outside.
I'll be going out tomorrow night, back to Global--I'll post my entry about my last experience there sometime soon, I hope (I had a manic episode that was really intensely fun and very scary)--because we got invited back to another VIP party there. The VIP room is definitely better than the rest of the club. Until the back rooms fill up with drunk people and you can freak dance with anybody.
Jeez, listen to me. Until last week, I could count the number of times I'd been in a dance club on one hand, and I had never danced in one. Now, I'm planning on going out on a freaking school night. The nerdy "No Play Until We've Finish Our Homework" side of me is still screaming for me to stay home, which is why I'll be pulling a Cinderella at midnight, but being popular is fun. When Mari heard that I'd be able to go out tomorrow night, she sounded really psyched, and, frankly, that's a nice feeling. I'm staying home in Friday night, probably (as I did last week, in spite of the peer pressure to go out for Mexican food and then some), which means that I'm not totally giving in to peer pressure, but it's really nice to belong and it's really, really nice to be wanted.
Alright, off to bed so I can get up and workworkwork so I don't have to worry about homework for tomorrow night.