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2001-08-06 / 1:31 p.m. ~Life is strange indeed, or, It's a small world after all~ I'm writing this at work. I didn't get much sleep, stayed up late watching "Brief Encounter" on the WE Channel, but I didn't watch it all because I fell asleep. That sucked because it was Sophia Loren and Richard Burton about to embark on a quietly torrid affair. Oh, it was getting good, and she was so racked with guilt, but they were just drawn to each other, could not help it, not at all��but it was a Sunday night, end of decadent staying up all night, for me and I had to fall asleep, and well, I was in bed, horizontal, and that always puts me to sleep, Gladys all curled up next to me. I woke up around 3:15, the movie still on, but I knew I'd missed all the good stuff, so I just turned it off and went to sleep. And I woke up so tired, but arrived here, to work, really wired, and excited about the recent turn of events, all chatty, and V. is back and Linda is not only humming and talking to herself (reading aloud?), but now she's added pen tapping to her repertoire of constant noise making. Delightful. H. called me first thing and I was dying to talk to her, dying to talk to this person, my bestest friend, the one I've known the longest and still talk to, the one who is still my friend after all this time, 10 years, dying to tell her what's been going on, but it's too quiet to talk, so we scratch surfaces, take about 14 or so minutes to catch up. I'll have to talk to her later. Oh, Linda's reading aloud, it's this monotonal whisper thing, and it fades in and out. When is someone going to offer me a new job? I got an email from AOL/Time Warner/Turner yesterday, new job listings, but they were all for computer programmers, and technical positions, and even the receptionist position requires a college degree and all kinds of bizarre experience. There was a tour guide position too, "ambassador" for CNN, and I thought that sounds really cool, but it requires a degree too, and public relations experience, and I started thinking about my lack of wardrobe, and well, the fact that I'm really noncomformist in my appearance, don't wear makeup, all that, and that's not what CNN wants in a tour guide. I want a behind the scenes kind of job anyway. But those must be in high demand. Must be who you know, with a smattering of what you know, or vice versa. So, I'm here instead. Here's the small world portion of the diary entry: a year ago, maybe more, I read about this cool web site, no, not THIS one, but one that is cool, and I had to check it out, and it was cool, and I'm going to be really secretive about it here, but it was more than what it seemed, it was like theatre of the absurd, or performance art, or just total sarcasm, or irrelevance, or total sincerity, and hard to tell really. But the creator, the man behind it, well, he was intriguing indeed, and I visited his personal site, and read about him, his life, his failed marriage, his daughter, his life as a single dad, his books and music and passions, and I was kinda really interested in this person. But it was like he was this celebrity or something, this person who was running the show from far away, and he seemed unattainable. I signed the guestbook, I left messages on the boards, but this was no one I could ever know. And somewhere along the way I moved on. Now, this person, this creative and intelligent person, this person in whom I was once so interested, is now interested in ME! I'm not sure how I got his attention, I'm not sure how he could read my whole diary and still be interested, but somehow he is, and it's just all too bizarre the way this has turned out. Who would have ever thought, a year ago, that now we'd be in touch, chatting for hours on ICQ, sharing online photo albums and web sites, and journals, and wishing we weren't so geographically separated so that we might actually be real people together, not just cyber pals. I have no idea where it's going, and I try not to hope too much anymore, (me, the cynical optimist), and cyber relationships have been disastrous for me, never coming to any sort of fruition, but I'm still really excited, want to tell everyone I know, want to tell everyone that my weekend was occupied with him, writing to him, chatting with him, learning him, and I just want to learn more. Remind myself of who this person is. Learn what I didn't know before. And it still feels like some unattainable celebrity has returned my adoration. Oh, I know he's just a man, but the internet makes people into public figures, or even merely public enigmas, but we're public in our own private ways nonetheless. He has gotten inside of me and I can't really describe the way it's making me feel. I'm going to do actual work now, but lately I find myself wanting to put every thought, every moment into this diary, it's a sick compulsion, of sorts. Or maybe it's not sick at all, but healthy. I really don't know, but all this typing has caused a flareup (is that a word?) in my wrist, an old injury from my bookstore days, and it's tingly and painful. Ouch. It's permanent nerve damage, or so the orthopedic guy said. Back then. It was years ago. Cost of the War in Iraq
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