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Wednesday, May. 15, 2002 / 11:42 a.m. ~A New Symptom/Tuesday Shows/My Chi Is Good Where It Is, Thanks~ I�m having a pain in my gut. The hypochondriac in me is panicking. It�s an ulcer. It�s colon cancer. It�s uterine cancer. I need a hysterectomy. Perhaps I�m suddenly lactose intolerant. No, surely it�s cancer. The bloating, the swelling, this pain which comes and goes. Why this pain? It�s not cramps, it�s not menstrual, it�s nothing I�ve eaten. It�s 9:30 a.m., cubicle time, I�ve only had coffee, water. The bowels have been emptied. Do I need a colonic irrigation? Jesus. No, wait, what does Jesus have to do with this? Why does his name always crop up? Last night�s �Gilmore Girls� was superb. The actress who plays Rory should definitely use that episode as her entry for nomination at the Emmys. She had this angsty monologue that blew me away, it just kept going and going and going. She cut school and hopped a bus to NYC to be with Jess, Jess with whom she has fallen in love totally against her will and better judgment. Excellent. Angsty. Emotional. Exciting and new. FUN!!! But the bus arrives back to town late, and she misses her mom�s Business School graduation, and she apologizes and insists on severe punishment including no dinner, no TV, no phone, no music, no books (!), major housework, etc., etc., and ad infinitum. It was so great. Her mom, Lorelai, just stood there, listening, riveted, realizing what�s happening, that Rory has been swept away. Beautiful, truly, it was so good� �24� revealed a new plot twist, not totally unexpected, but twisty nonetheless. Nina is the mole! Aha! Eureka! Yeah, yeah, so what. And Dennis Hopper, of recent �24� stardom, was on Kilborn late last night. Yes, I was up watching Kilborn. Why in hell? To see Dennis Hopper, who couldn�t stop playing with his goatee, Van Dyke, whatever, very annoying and distracting. �Real World� inexplicably was not on last night. And �A Cook�s Tour� was an episode which has already been repeated at least twice. I want NEW episodes, but I fear there may not be any. Why don�t I just read the fucking book? I own it. I wrote back to Jon last night, was more open and revealing, told him I am indeed attracted to James, and there�s more that I want to discuss with James, not him. I told him Skipper overstepped some boundaries and I was uncomfortable, I told him I do seek to know myself, which he loves, he does the same, and that I do so through writing and astrology, and major navel-gazing, probably sounding very flaky in the telling. But so what? And Mark sent me email telling me I need to rearrange my chi, man, or some such advice. Sure. Right away, I�m all over it. Why do people like to tell me I need to rearrange my things, my furniture and bibelots? He�s not the first. And, to stereotype completely, he�s not the first Pisces to offer such criticisms of my lifestyle. This was part of my problem, well one of many, with my first real boyfriend, A., years ago. When I started collecting cookbooks A. would say, �Why are you buying more cookbooks? Have you cooked every recipe from the ones you already have?�, and I would say, �No, you idiot, of course not, I simply enjoy reading them, I collect them, they give me pleasure, I am a collector, leave me the fuck alone.�, and he would continually cajole, criticize, denounce, and other negative words. Luckily, by this time I had my own apartment, we no longer lived together, and I could say, �Hey, you know what? I think you should leave now.� And yes, as I told Skipper, people will come and go from your life, it�s meant to happen. One does not need to have anyone around who makes her feel bad about herself. This is crucial for happiness, I�ve found. There is helpful, constructive criticism, and there is also plain criticism, unwarranted, unwanted, unnecessary. Not to say Mark is totally wrong, but I know how I am, I know I love my collections of things, I�ve been collecting since I was a child, and I always had a knack for placement. This goes here, this next to it, this above it, this below. And certain people, women usually, have been in awe of it, told me how amazing it is, tried to emulate me and my talent. Others, usually men, criticize, tell me I really �should� move things. Men seem to hate having things in particular places. I think they�d prefer to throw their dirty laundry on the floor, leave dirty plates under their beds, etc., permanently. My brother was the worst. He�d simply help himself to rearranging things when he came over, and he knew it bothered me, he enjoyed making me squirm. This is one of the reasons he is no longer in my life. Want another life lesson? One cannot change anyone but one�s self. One can make suggestions, but be prepared for the reactions to said suggestions, please. Recognize when a suggestion is really a criticism of a personality. Is this all related to you, Mark? Not necessarily, but you sparked it. Speaking of criticism, I posted to the message boards on Moby�s site last night, basically to say I hate the new look of the site (which has suddenly been revamped), the white background in the journal is a horrible strain to the eyes, the decreased font size is confounding, and the changes, coinciding with Moby�s recent shameless self-promotion, are disgusting to me in general and may keep me from visiting the site in the near future. I, the fan, the one in love with who I thought Moby is, am horribly disappointed. The pain has moved to my lower back, but as I write that I feel it in my gut still. Diet. Exercise. Sleep. I can fix this. Whatever �this� is. I won�t panic. It�s probably just garlic bologna overload. I should stop eating meat. Or not. Now, I must work. Cost of the War in Iraq
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