(no subject)
Time has been flying at a sonic speed. Just a couple of weeks ago, I remember having this thought, crystal-clear; I feel as if I've just turned my head and here I am thinking it the next day. The only friends I have are those who pursue me, or at least understand my disappearances. I only have a moment to stand on the balcony and smoke a cigarette, then it's back into the frying pan. Sometimes I feel the moon is my closest friend.
Tony moved out. He took almost everything and I let him, knowing I'd done the same thing to him in a different way. I just finished remodeling the living room. I weep for want of potted plants and a nice rug.
I've never considered myself to be a beautiful woman. My features are too masculine for convention, and my hygiene is lacking. (In a poem I completed this year, I wrote "breathless monotony take flight/like a scarf from around one's neck, loosed/on rebel winds/i catch you and then you're loose again." Sometimes brushing my teeth entails a quest to return to my toothbrush.) But I must have something, if not charisma then at least a body, because every day is as subliminally stressful as being constantly jumped on by dogs of various sizes. It's exhausting. I can't have a male friend without sex coming up. Alienation seems the only polite response.
Lloyd was giving me instructions on how to react to him today and said, "Don't you see all the cameras?" after I said that the reaction was only appropriate for a sit-com, not real life. I said, "Oh, I thought they were cameras for my show. It's not a comedy."
School is going well (I hope--today I checked my financial aid and it replied that they had no record of it, and to contact them directly; I also have a course I need to drop from my last semester and I don't know if the dean will begrudge my request, I got an "I" in it and was never able to contact the professor who has since left the University and is working in the private sector and never responded to my Facebook friend request).
I get to see my family in a few weeks. I regularly receive pangs of guilt at the thought of leaving them so far away. I keep all the holiday cards they send me, though, if that counts for anything. My older sister and I haven't actually talked in months, which is weird. Both of us barely put forth any effort, and then, sensing that in the other, put forth even less.
I feel a little sick. I am surrounded by mountains of laundry.
Tony moved out. He took almost everything and I let him, knowing I'd done the same thing to him in a different way. I just finished remodeling the living room. I weep for want of potted plants and a nice rug.
I've never considered myself to be a beautiful woman. My features are too masculine for convention, and my hygiene is lacking. (In a poem I completed this year, I wrote "breathless monotony take flight/like a scarf from around one's neck, loosed/on rebel winds/i catch you and then you're loose again." Sometimes brushing my teeth entails a quest to return to my toothbrush.) But I must have something, if not charisma then at least a body, because every day is as subliminally stressful as being constantly jumped on by dogs of various sizes. It's exhausting. I can't have a male friend without sex coming up. Alienation seems the only polite response.
Lloyd was giving me instructions on how to react to him today and said, "Don't you see all the cameras?" after I said that the reaction was only appropriate for a sit-com, not real life. I said, "Oh, I thought they were cameras for my show. It's not a comedy."
School is going well (I hope--today I checked my financial aid and it replied that they had no record of it, and to contact them directly; I also have a course I need to drop from my last semester and I don't know if the dean will begrudge my request, I got an "I" in it and was never able to contact the professor who has since left the University and is working in the private sector and never responded to my Facebook friend request).
I get to see my family in a few weeks. I regularly receive pangs of guilt at the thought of leaving them so far away. I keep all the holiday cards they send me, though, if that counts for anything. My older sister and I haven't actually talked in months, which is weird. Both of us barely put forth any effort, and then, sensing that in the other, put forth even less.
I feel a little sick. I am surrounded by mountains of laundry.