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2001-06-05 / 7:02 p.m. ~Dave Eggers and Me~
I have this really bad habit of starting things and not finishing them. The momentum simply disappears and I'm left with half finished this and half finished that. Like the kitchen. I was gung ho on that, couple weeks ago, cleaned under and behind things on the counters, cleaned the sink with actual cleanser, washed all the dishes and kept them washed for the past couple weeks, until recently, but I never did the other side of the kitchen. I had two counters left when I ran out of steam, probably stopped to eat or something, no energy, have some food then I can finish, sure, that was most likely the story. But I never did. Dust settles, it accumulates, even on my beautiful blue KitchenAid mixer that D. bought me for my 30th birthday, the mixer he bought me so I could make cheesecakes, and anything else. It's horrible with books too, a horrible problem that is, all these wonderful books, books I had every intention of reading, started, said hey, this is a great book, told everyone I was reading it, this book is great, you should read it, then I read a bit, maybe a third, maybe half, maybe three quarters, and I lost energy, speed, momentum, set it down, there, on a table, under a pile of other books, on the shelf, with the bookmark marking the spot where I gave up, gave in to my procrastination. And I see them there, those bookmarks, mocking me, but I don't pick the books back up, oh, I'd have to start over, start all over, and I don't have the energy for that. So it almost was with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers. What a fantastic book, this guy is so like me, he writes like I do, it's such a great story, and my parents died of cancer too, not within a month of each other, but I know so much of what he's going through, went through, and he makes me laugh, out loud. I put it down, I don't know why, or maybe I do, maybe it was my subscription to Entertainment Weekly, it needed my attention too, it's a weekly, and I was falling behind. So, I put Eggers down, carried that book to work every day, stared at it, opened it for a second or two, then the phone rang, or I'd see the EW sitting there and read it instead, out of an obligation to stay informed of the entertainment world's happenings. Today I picked it back up, that heartbreaking work of absolutely staggering genius, and one of the first sentences was "Jesus fucking Christ" and I almost gasped, I just used that same phrase in a diary entry, right here. I say that! That's what I say! Then some other sentences, and I was reading, I was laughing, I was back in it, I was sucked in, EW be damned!! He writes like I do, all run-on sentences, all separated with commas like it's okay to just keep going on and on, as long as there are some commas thrown in for good measure, break it up a bit. He's neurotic as hell, eccentric, like me, and I was reminded of how I felt before I put the book down, how I did a search for him on the 'net, and it even brought me here, to diaryland.com, to "users with Eggers listed as favorite author" or something like that. I said, huh? What is this shit? Diaryland? Wha.......oh, okay, I'll bookmark it. Yeah, that's how I found it, a couple weeks ago. Seems like everything happened a couple weeks ago. So, now I'm here, at diaryland.com, have my own diary, but I had to put the book down, I was neglecting my mag subscription and I was sucked in too deep, I wanted to know Eggers, I wanted to meet him, I wanted to hang out with him, make him see how very much alike we are, how we might be destined to be together, him and me, if there were such a thing as destiny. Then I realized how very many people are awash in his genius, how he doesn't even do interviews except by email, how his eccentricity, his popularity, his staggeringness makes him unreachable, unattainable, a distant entity. And that's how it should be. Now, I can finish this book, and I am almost through reading it, but I don't even want it to be over, like the last two or three fantastic memoirs I read, I want to know what happens now, next, tomorrow, the next day. I want them all to have diaries I can read online, my favorite authors. I want Dave Eggers to know that he and I are so much alike it's frightening....... I had my annual review at work today. I got a raise, 4.42%, out of 5%. It was positive, the comments, my supervisor "graded" me on different points and her grades matched mine, from my self-evaluation, exactly. Exactly. But only 4.42% instead of 5%. After it was over and I was back in my cubicle I obsessed about that. What do I have to do to get the 5%? Why wasn't I considered good enough for that? Don't you people know how fucking deserving I am? How hard I've tried to put up with all your stupid bullshit, your racism, your overall discrimination against those more knowledgeable than yourselves? Why? Why, why, why? An extra $80 a month, approximately. Okay. So what? Why not more? Why was there more alotted than what I got? There's nothing I can do, until I get another job, but for that I'd have to go looking. Energy. Don't have it. No energy to go the healthy grocery store for healthy food, the farmer's market. Low blood sugar, I'm gonna pass out, gotta eat now, horrible craving for cheeseburger, must be iron deficiency. Yeah, need beef, need Hardee's cheeseburger with bacon, and fries. Then, if only then, I could go to the healthy food store and get the good stuff, and then cook it, or eat it raw in big salads, wash dishes when I'm through, then maybe exercise and lift weights again - I have them, they sit there, I can see them from here, but know what? They're fucking heavy! You have to lift them, and in a certain way, and after a few weeks you can see bulges, for me bulges in my skinny arms, my skinny legs, little bulges, and it becomes easier and it doesn't hurt so much the next day, but meantime it does hurt, and it's hard 'cause they're heavy. Easier to eat cheeseburgers and sit and write. I'm a writer anyway, right? I don't know. I'll keep up with my yoga stretching at night, and my crunches and maybe one day I'll let someone see me naked, again, and I won't worry about what he thinks. He'll like what he sees, and I will too. For now I'm soft. Not anxious to show off the soft spots. I have no issues with my body though. I accept it, fully, for what it is. Old and saggy and soft! (insert laughter emoticon here) I want to go read Dave Eggers..... Cost of the War in Iraq
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