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Thursday, Jul. 25, 2002 / 1:16 p.m. ~No Need to Rain on This Parade, Eh?~ Someone on the message boards asked why we all want him to KNOW us? So I wrote, "Because he'd really like me!", replete with smiley emoticon, of course. There's quite a discussion going on over there, and I started it! Well? (to be said like Samantha Stevens on "Bewitched", you know, "Wayyyylllll?") I was just sayin', is all, I feel like a groupie now, and I'm not crazy about that. I've been struggling with it for a while now. So it turns out I am not alone, not by a long shot. LOTS of women are responding to me, all saying the same thing, the same EXACT thing, as if we've been brainwashed. Oh, we all love the guy, he's affected us all so deeply, his music is spiritual, intimate, moving, we love who he is as a person, so compassionate and good, his words hold so much meaning, he is shy, unassuming, unpretentious, self effacing (okay, I'm the eloquent one, but they mean to say the same things - they just don't have the vocabularies�), etc., etc., and blah, blah, blah, and we all love him, and oh, I said that, but let me say it again, we all feel tremendous love for this man, we all want to actually know him, marry him, have his babies, or something like that. How many of us? In reality, maybe not that many, maybe a handful, if one could hold us in his hand. Why can't we just give, she wants to know? Why can't we just meet the guy, tell him we love what he gives to us, we appreciate him so much, and let that be that? Waayyyyylllllll, you see, it's like this, just say, for the sake of example, you're a woman, and you enjoy the men, you love men, but you've been fucked over by men for years, or maybe you've fucked them over, or maybe you've only been hurt once, or twice, but you know it's hard to find a good man, or it's good to find a hard man, but either way, you can't help but be drawn to someone so talented, intelligent, beautifully handsome, funny and downright personable. He's like the ultimate man. For some women anyway. Did you hear that? "He's, like, the ultimate man" - how old am I again? Who the hell cares?! Don't you think there were thousands of women who thought if Elvis could just get to KNOW them he'd fall in love with them? Or Paul, or John, or George, or even Ringo? But you couldn't go talk to them after a show. They didn't just walk up to you out in the parking lot afterwards to chat you up. And they didn't expose themselves so completely, sharing their journals with the public online. Wait, there wasn't an 'online' back then. Can you imagine if there was? Why this woman wants to pick a fight is� okay, I'm forgetting the medium. It's fairly typical for the Interweb. She has issues. She hasn't met him yet, she is insecure and lonely, or on the other hand, married and happy and can't remember what it's like to have a crush. Or maybe she's never entertained one. I like that, I'm 'entertaining a crush'. Hello, 'crush', come on in, let me get you a cocktail. Have an hors d'oeuvre? Watch a video? Play some cards perhaps? Quiet, please, I'm entertaining my crush. I've decided I need therapy, again. What happened the last time? Did it help? Can I even remember? I hated the pattern, I'd go to her apartment, she had some candles lit, she'd sit in her chair and I on the sofa, she'd look right at me, waiting, and I'd start talking. She'd listen, not respond at all, unless I asked for her opinion, then when we had about 10 minutes left she'd start in, go on and on about what she thought of me, how I was living my life, what I was feeling, and I'd try to respond, but it was her turn. I'd think she didn't know me at all, she had me all wrong, and why in hell was I paying someone to be my friend? She was a licensed therapist, but it was cheaper if I saw her at her place, and she probably didn't report that income, but it was $70 for our little hour, and after a time I said, "You know, I don't feel I need to see you anymore, turns out I no longer feel I'm going to kill myself after all." So why do I want to do it again? With someone new? Pay someone to be my friend? To listen to me and offer some sort of objective advice? That's private. Not for prying eyes, for the voyeurs who read this, who think they know me, or strangers who wander in, thinking they're going to find 'lizard tattoos'� Let's just say I need a reality check. I need to find some way to come to terms with what my life is turning out to be (I almost wrote "shaping up", but that sounds trite). Is this something I should be writing in my paper journal? Perhaps. I am now going to ignore the reader. I really need to eat something healthy and good. How convenient that I can go to lunch in just a few minutes, go home, see the girls, have a PBJ, get online to post this, and to see if that person responded to me calling her a black cloud with negative energy. She's not going to like that, is she? Cost of the War in Iraq
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