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Wednesday, Apr. 24, 2002 / 11:43 a.m. ~Sudden Obligations/Need vs. Want/Recap of My Tuesday Night Shows~ 9:07 a.m., cubicle time. I was in the bathtub, a little more than a half hour ago, thinking of all the things I want to do, and how being here, sitting in this cubicle, is taking up far too much time in my life. I know I�m here to earn money, and I do earn money, sure, it could be more, but it�s good so far� but, if only I didn�t have to sit here, I could do so much more. Yesterday, from 5:00 to 6:00 p.m., even with Penelope leaving early, and only four of us to answer the phones, I sat and listened to my newest CD, Madonna�s �Music� (which I really do like, but since I saw the HBO concert first, I picture the stage show while I listen), and read Entertainment Weekly. My phone probably rang 4 times in that hour. I was trapped. Stuck. Must sit, here, until 6:00. It�s really hard sometimes, well, all the time, but sometimes I am supremely aware of the futility. Aside from that, my lips hurt. They�ve been hurting since Monday, I think, and I�m not really sure why. I am thinking maybe they got too much sun on Saturday?? They feel really rough and chapped when I rub them together, but when I look in the mirror they look fine. Today hurts less than yesterday, so I�m guessing it�s getting better, whatever �it� is. It reminded me of a time when the corners of my mouth cracked open and became very painful, maybe 8 years ago. I chalked it up to a vitamin deficiency, and used some over the counter lip healing stuff. It was awful though. Thrilling, fascinating, I know. I�m not unhappy because I�m on my own. I�m not feeling that there is some other half out there in the world, someone who will �complete me�. I feel complete. I�m not doing what I want, we know this, but I don�t really feel that a man, and children, will make my life more worth living. So, when a man comes into the picture, into my personal picture, it only seems to obscure everything else, to make everything cloudy, confused. I now have two men wanting something from me. And neither is a man I would have chosen for myself. This makes me very uncomfortable. Skipper had his big volunteer meeting last night, sent me email asking me to go, again, and telling me he enjoyed our time together in D.C., and the thing is� I did too. He asked me to a political party at his house on Saturday, and isn�t it ironic that his friend/neighbor Sandy also asked me out for Saturday? I declined, said I had plans, said I wouldn�t make the volunteer meeting, but yes, I had fun too. In D.C. He writes back, late last night, saying the volunteer meeting was not a success, he needs a lot more people, I should have gone, but he�s funny the way he writes, he�s irreverent, sarcastic, I like his style. And he invited me to something else, a party (more political stuff) on Friday night, casually asking if I�m married or something. I�m not sure what to do. I was thinking I�d tell him I�m not married, but I am going to be going out with Sandy, but he knows Sandy, they�re neighbors, so that might be awkward. Then I thought, maybe I should just go out with Skipper on Friday, just see if we can be buds, then go out with Sandy to see if we can be buds-plus. This is all surprising to me. I saw plenty of men who were attractive to me over the weekend, in D.C., even on the bus, but the two who were bold enough to make a move, well, they�re not the ones I�d choose, as I said. That�s always the way it works with me. Really. And I�ve learned enough to know that I can�t choose, it doesn�t work that way, I have to be chosen, then decide if I want what�s being presented. It�s all biology. As Joe Jackson sings. (You don�t know that song? I think it�s on �Beat Crazy�, a great album!) Which reminds me, Elvis Costello was on Letterman last night and I could not stay awake! I was pissed at myself when I began to feel the need to �just close my eyes�, but I guess I was tired. Speaking of men and women, last night�s �Gilmore Girls� contained some tragedy, some realistically depicted heartbreak� poor Dean is realizing that Rory is attracted to Jess, and he is losing her to him, and� he has no control over the situation. He is crushed. Poor, poor, boy. But Jess is hot! Poor, poor, Rory. I remember Reg telling me how hard it was to be the one breaking someone else�s heart, that it�s harder than to be heartbroken, and I disagreed over and over, No, impossible, you are so wrong! But he had a point. I don�t think it�s harder to be the rejector, but it has its difficulties, yes. And Dennis Hopper doing his Balkan accent thing on �24� is just weird. Man, that show is all over the place. I still enjoy it, still want to see where it ends up, but, wow. �Real World � Chicago�? Is it just me, or is it crap? I�m sick of seeing Anissa (I�m sure I�m spelling her name wrong) sitting on the toilet. What is up with that? And the closeup of what�s her name�s kidney stone in the styrofoam cup? This is entertainment? Excuse me? I may finally be tiring of �Real World�, as a concept. (It was so funny when I sat at Wendy�s with Sandy and Abe on Saturday night, them both insisting �Real World� is faked) Tony Bourdain wandering around NYC on �A Cook�s Tour�, me looking for shots of the twin towers, wondering, is this before or after, before or after?! Before. And he sees a bum, er, excuse me, homeless man, on some steps watching him walk down the sidewalk, says, �What are you lookin� at?� Perfect. Watching Tony eat makes me so hungry. Hot dogs, foie gras, veal cheek, doesn�t matter, when he closes his eyes and starts groaning I want to be right there next to him, opening my mouth for him to insert a bite. �Let me try some, please?!� If only HE were single, and wanted me to go out with him� why is it never the ones I like? I need to write back to Skipper. I need to figure out what to say. I need to decide if I should try going out, just a party, or something, just see if we can be buds. And then there�s Saturday, and Sandy, and what are we going to do? How will that go? I�d almost rather be alone than have to concern myself with all of this. I want to lift weights again. I want to build up my arms. I want to do Yoga and exercise. I want to shave my legs, for me, I want to be smooth and sexy, and muscular. I want to read books and clean my apartment, top to bottom, and back up again. I want to go to movies, and museums, and take day trips, go hiking and camping and whitewater canoeing. Need/Want. I want no obligations to anyone, but myself, and the girls. I want to write and write and write. Every thought which comes into my head, and listen to music. But I�m here, for 8 hours. Trapped. Stuck. 9:39 a.m., cubicle time. Cost of the War in Iraq
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