other people's lives, impatience, nostalgia, tears and big time sensuality
i am ready to be out of ny. there are many people here, who i love dearly. but i'm not seeing them, and that makes being in ny kind of pointless for me. i'm working, which is good, because lord knows i can always use the money. but....i'm ready to get started on this new life thing.
i am loving being in helena's place. i can understand why she likes being in ny. i have been having great fun pretending to be her the past week. the apt feels so comfortable. coming home at night is relaxing, waking up is relaxing. she actually has a home, and that's something i haven't had for well over a year now.
i read jesus' son yesterday. it's a collection of short stories about the author's life during the 1970's. it was written in 92, which puts a lot of what he's writing in perspective. it was an alright read, overall. some of it was truly poetic, beautiful and touching. some of it was filler. but it affected me, and i couldn't figure out why until about halfway through. it was causing me to feel almost nostalgic, and profoundly uncomfortable. it was a feeling i hadn't had since i was a teenager. one of profound inner disagreement with what is happening. it's because listening to the writer is like listening to paul. not just the speech patterns, which were amazingly similar, but also the stories. the material. the emotions. the thought patterns and processes. it was as if i were 17 again, sitting in a dark, cold car on some country cliff, listening to this sad and poorly developed man explain the mistakes and tragedies of his life, looking for love and compassion and salvation from the innocent youth he was doomed to ruin.
so...yeah. it messed with me.
add to that the fact i've spent the past week trying to repress all the information my dad told me last week regarding his wishes after his death, and pensions and trusts and wills and such...things that i can't thin about because i can't fathom a world without my father...
so, i watched the second half of season 5 of buffy - where her mother dies - just to get all of it out of me. just to cry so much to get all of it out of me.
in the meantime, i woke up this morning to this:
I don't know my future
after this weekend
and I dont want to!
it takes courage
to enjoy it
from bjork, big time sensuality. and boy howdy is it true.
we had the going away party yesterday. i thought it was just for eddie, but it was also for me, which was nice. too bad i was in one of those moods where i just felt completely out of place. i mean, these are people i work with. people i care about. people who i've shared experiences and fears and joys and thoughts with. and for some reason i couldn't think of a single thing to say to them. couldn't find a simgle point of similarity. i just left. i passed out my hugs, said goodbye to eddie and trained home. i don't know if i'm distancing myself from things here, and that's why i feel this way, or if i was never actually close to anything in the first place, and that's why i'm leaving.
either way, leaving ny is in no way painful like leaving oberlin and beijing was.
a final thought: my body hates me. just straight up hates me. or is broken. either way. eating has been a combat sport for me the past week, and drinking has been twice as difficult (possibly making the going away party that much less enjoyable?). the headaches, stomach aches, nasuea, general body malaise....it's like being 18 again.
i wish i could figure out how to fix me. that would be lovely.
but, that'll have to wait till i get insurance again. such is.
and budapest legalized prostitution. whee!
i am loving being in helena's place. i can understand why she likes being in ny. i have been having great fun pretending to be her the past week. the apt feels so comfortable. coming home at night is relaxing, waking up is relaxing. she actually has a home, and that's something i haven't had for well over a year now.
i read jesus' son yesterday. it's a collection of short stories about the author's life during the 1970's. it was written in 92, which puts a lot of what he's writing in perspective. it was an alright read, overall. some of it was truly poetic, beautiful and touching. some of it was filler. but it affected me, and i couldn't figure out why until about halfway through. it was causing me to feel almost nostalgic, and profoundly uncomfortable. it was a feeling i hadn't had since i was a teenager. one of profound inner disagreement with what is happening. it's because listening to the writer is like listening to paul. not just the speech patterns, which were amazingly similar, but also the stories. the material. the emotions. the thought patterns and processes. it was as if i were 17 again, sitting in a dark, cold car on some country cliff, listening to this sad and poorly developed man explain the mistakes and tragedies of his life, looking for love and compassion and salvation from the innocent youth he was doomed to ruin.
so...yeah. it messed with me.
add to that the fact i've spent the past week trying to repress all the information my dad told me last week regarding his wishes after his death, and pensions and trusts and wills and such...things that i can't thin about because i can't fathom a world without my father...
so, i watched the second half of season 5 of buffy - where her mother dies - just to get all of it out of me. just to cry so much to get all of it out of me.
in the meantime, i woke up this morning to this:
I don't know my future
after this weekend
and I dont want to!
it takes courage
to enjoy it
from bjork, big time sensuality. and boy howdy is it true.
we had the going away party yesterday. i thought it was just for eddie, but it was also for me, which was nice. too bad i was in one of those moods where i just felt completely out of place. i mean, these are people i work with. people i care about. people who i've shared experiences and fears and joys and thoughts with. and for some reason i couldn't think of a single thing to say to them. couldn't find a simgle point of similarity. i just left. i passed out my hugs, said goodbye to eddie and trained home. i don't know if i'm distancing myself from things here, and that's why i feel this way, or if i was never actually close to anything in the first place, and that's why i'm leaving.
either way, leaving ny is in no way painful like leaving oberlin and beijing was.
a final thought: my body hates me. just straight up hates me. or is broken. either way. eating has been a combat sport for me the past week, and drinking has been twice as difficult (possibly making the going away party that much less enjoyable?). the headaches, stomach aches, nasuea, general body malaise....it's like being 18 again.
i wish i could figure out how to fix me. that would be lovely.
but, that'll have to wait till i get insurance again. such is.
and budapest legalized prostitution. whee!