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Monday, Apr. 22, 2002 / 7:00 p.m. ~The Adventure is Over~ The day started with a lovely strong wind, clouds formed in layers, and I could imagine painting them, thinking of my cloud fixation on the drive to work. It looked so dark and stormy, the clouds all lined in a dark blue, with lighter blue and gray above each layer. The temperature was cooler than it's been, and it was very beautiful. But then I had to go to work. It rained a bit, not even enough to really wash the pollen from my vehicle. I'm thinking I should wash it myself one day. I can't always count on rain to do it for me. It needs so much though, besides just the wash, I have this idea I can't just do one thing or the other, if I'm not going to do it all, why bother? This is the fault of the procrastinator, the person who does nothing for fear of failure. "If I can't do ALL of it, and excellently, why bother at all?" I hate being this way. I think I'm becoming intensely irritable and I hope it's PMS, not something I can't explain. I just momentarily freaked out because there was too much dust on my monitor, and the font is goddamned tiny in this box, and I have a tendency to hit the wrong keys over and over, constantly having to backspace. Very irritable. NO ONE said one word about me being on page fucking three of one of the crappiest newspapers, in one of the largest cities, in the entire country. Not one word. Late in the day, Lulu asked about Washington, Lulu, of all people, remembered that I did something big this weekend and actually apologized for not asking earlier in the day. So, I told her briefly the scope of it, the estimated amount of folks, 75,000, and the Arabs, the Muslims, the Jews, the bus ride, the FREE FREE PALESTINE chant, my own personal confusion, and the two date proposals, the latter of which got her all excited. She'd like to see me date, get married, all that crap. So I told her about the paper, the photo, the comment, and she wanted to see, asked why I didn't bring it in, and I said I didn't want "everyone" to see it, meaning Listerine. And besides, I'm horribly embarrassed. She said she'd pick up a copy at the store, but I know she won't. Part of me is very glad that no one is acknowledging it, and I have lived here almost my entire life and have met, and still know, however slightly, a large number of people. Not one has phoned, or emailed or anything. That seems so strange to me. I guess they all hate me, I've made enemies of everyone I've ever known. Even my own brother and his wife - but they read the NY Times anyway. And I disowned them first. Whatever. I have it, I'll save it, however embarrassing. It was a moment of fame for me. A little something unusual and exciting. So be it. But it's also really, really, really disappointing that no one on the list serv acknowledged it either. I sent out an email letting everyone know that the three of us, Dagwood, Skipper and I all got our picture in the paper, and only Anna wrote to me personally to say, "Congratulations". Fuck them, I guess. I thought it was a really big deal, but maybe that's just me. Work was so boring today. The phones were slow, I was slow, the documents were few, though not far between. Since I'm processing our department's mail this month I was up and down all day trying to find us more Next Day Airs, or FAXes, or US Mail, or anything to do. The rest of the time I read Entertainment Weekly. I'm still about four issues behind. But... I'm catching up, finally. I can feel me zipping through them this week. After the brief, and slight rain, the sun shone, the clouds cleared, the sky was blue again and the air much cooler, I thought it felt like Spring, finally. The early Summer had retreated and we were back to normal. Then the clouds returned, and it really is Spring weather now. Unstable air masses, winds, rain, fluctuating temps. I love weather. I feel like I have many things to do, all the things I always have to do, and what feels pointless about it all is that it's periodic, it's constant, it's stuff that must be done, then done again. Groceries, dusting, cleaning, organizing. It's always there. And as soon as it's done, it needs to be done again, give it a week, maybe two. So, in the name of my procrastinating personality, I put off everything that's not crucial for my survival. I'll use CoffeeMate in my coffee. I'll get milk later. I'll find "something" to eat here, there must be some food around. Yes, there is that ring of whatever around the drain in the bathroom sink, but before I can clean it I have to remove everything from the counter/vanity top and clean it all too. Too much work. Easier to write, to read, to watch television, to get on the floor and brush Norman if she'll let me, and when the lights are dimmed at night, no sunlight to shine through the windows, the dust is far less visible. I'm still not happy. There was a brief moment of excitement, but that's over now, and it's back to the pointlessness of my existence, once again. Insert a *sigh* here. I'm simply bored. On a lighter note, Hermione and I have been exchanging email letters, and she asked what the Demonstration was for, and I, rather condescendingly I think, said, "Oh, Hermione, don't you watch the news?", and today she wrote back that of course she does, and she proceeded to go on and on and on again, in a most educated fashion, about the turmoil in the Middle East and how disgusted she is at what the Israeli army is doing to the Palestinians, reminding me that her brother in law is Palestinian, and his family is okay, but this is a struggle. I ate my words. I feel so ignorant. I go to Washington, and I don't even know why, but she knows all the fucking details and sits at home. What's wrong with this picture? And I'm thinking an awful lot about Sandy, and young Abe. I don't know why really. I'm picturing the moment when he came up to sit with me, on the bus, and we started talking, the getting to know you chit chat portion of the program, and he talks a lot, in his slow Southern drawl, and at one point we were looking into each other's eyes and there was a glitch, a chasm, a stoppage of play, just ever so brief, but I was gauging, I was thinking so far ahead, going all the way with it, imagining everything that might be possible, saying, No, never, this won't happen, but he must've sensed it, or he was doing it too. I think once you reach a certain age you know the games, you know the signals, you get a better read, even from people you can't read at all, and you spend more time just using whatever sixth sense you have, perceiving. So, I keep remembering that moment, and how tired his eyes looked, how nice his nose is, and that his lips looked ultimately very kissable. And how I loved it when young Abe would open his eyes really wide when he was surprised. It was fun to elicit that reaction from him.... I almost wanted to just sit and shock him over and over again, in a joking way, to see those eyes get as big as they can get, then see him smile and break into a laugh. What a great kid. Big release of breath, large exhalation, through the mouth, breathe in through the nose, and I feel like I want to do some Yoga again, some ab crunches again, to stretch, to shave my legs, to wear shorts in public, to allow myself to feel girly, though I'm not, because I used to be. Maybe just allowing myself to think about sharing my body with someone else makes me want to try again. Not that I would, with Sandy, but of course I've already thought about it. Read the quote from St James (un-clean) in my list of favorites in my profile. I can relate 100%. I'm going to do things now, and what, I don't know, but I need to do something. I'm bored, I'm restless, but I'm tired, more than yesterday. The adventure is over, and I'm impatient for another one to begin. Cost of the War in Iraq
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