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Sunday, Jul. 27, 2003 / 3:18 p.m. ~It's a Lazy Weekend Here~ I think Gladys and I are having attachment issues. She wants to attach herself to me, I, like Greta Garbo, want to be alone. Really, it's hard to have a furry animal constantly glued to my body, especially when it's close to 90 outside, not too much cooler in. I can't bare the thought of going outside. I really think Friday did me in, it was overwhelming, the traffic, every time I was stuck in one place, wanting to commit suicide. The heat was oppressive, the occasional wafting of putrefaction from my car's front portion making me want to gag. Finding the car wash only to find it filled with cars being washed. I think I need to get back out, I need shoes, pants, I need to wash my car, I need to do things out THERE, but the thought of getting in that car, showering first of course, then getting in it, sweltering in the hot sun, running the errands whilst soaked with fresh perspiration, no, no, I can't. I can get up tomorrow, shower for work, get dressed and go to it, do it, work, I can drive home at lunch, cold from the work site a/c, then back in a beginning of feeling the heat, but then freezing again upon contact with the indoors, and home again. This, I can handle. Anything more, I'm thinking September will be here soon enough. Maybe late September, it should cool off by then. The differences between Diaryland and LiveJournal are becoming more and more apparent to me. LiveJournal entries can have entire 'message boards' attached to them, dialogue and ass kissing galore, or flaming, as the entry warrants, but here? Write it, leave it, all's well. Maybe a note or two, perhaps not, and that's fine. It's a diary. Right? I've said all along it's the exhibitionism vs the voyeurism. Why shoud you be reading someone's diary? If you found my paper version, would you read it? Most likely you would be conflicted, set it back down, but this one, despite me having a stats counter, you know you're anonymous, you read if you like. I don't know you, you don't know me. Isn't it fun that way? At LJ, it's all about the group thing, the cliques, the interactions, the potential for real life encounters, the support group atmosphere. Not that we don't support here, but I suppose I've been attacked more than supported everywhere I go, so I have no sympathy for those looking for an electronic shoulder upon which to type their cries. Can you tell I'm about to start my period? I can. I've been exhausted. I can't watch an entire movie on TV without falling asleep before the end. I fall asleep on the sofa, wake in the middle of the night, eat fruit and croissants and go to bed, watch more movies, portions thereof, before sleeping again. And in between I worry about not leaving, about all I'm not accomplishing, wondering what is the most important thing, what absolutely must be done, and have I done it, and what happened with my new LJ friends, and why did I alienate them, and that one woman, she and I had so much in common, why did she have to be so afraid of me and my manner? Why can't people see that I'm all bark, there is no bite possible. Do I ask people to read between my lines when I have such difficulty reading between theirs? I should be watching "Dr Strangelove", it would make me laugh and laughing is good. I should be considering going out, in the heat, to at least accomplish one thing or another, and sweating is good, it releases toxins, right? Then I can wash them away. Yesterday I wrote email letters and watched TV. I ate croissants with almond paste filling, tomatoes and mozzarella bocconcini with olive oil, and I drank the olive oil left in the plate, spilling some on my shirt. I ate leftover longaniza sausage with mushrooms, onions, red bell pepper, green onions, tomato and corn, in an omelet, and just writing that makes me salivate a bit. And when I awoke in the middle of the night I pigged out on strawberries, a cut up red delicious apple, and the last of three almond croissants. Today, I'm thinking another omelet, with button mushrooms and shiitakes, a mushroom omelet, the last of the fresh mozz, the last tomato, maybe a big salad with red leaf lettuce, celery, carrots, red pepper, and some shiitake/garlic tofu! I hear the end of the movie (is it the end?), the bomber pilot releasing the bomb. I suddenly can't remember the end. Cost of the War in Iraq
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