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Wednesday, Jun. 05, 2002 / 11:42 a.m. ~The Best CDs, and Accepting Destiny, Embracing Me~ Who�s singing in my ears this morning? It�s Jeff Buckley. Sweetly, softly. 9:18 a.m., cubicle time. I thought I was tired yesterday, but that was nothing compared to today. I watched the Game last night (Carolina won in OT!), logged back on to the Interweb, then had to clear up my silly video tape, staying up past 1:00 to watch �Guiding Light�, three episodes, sans commercials. Crazy. After that, I was beyond tired, and sleep was not hard to achieve. This morning I overslept. I set my alarm for a time that�s totally unreasonable, and when I awoke I could only ask myself, �What was I thinking?�. No shower. No coffee. Deodorant and some musk oil. I smell okay, I think, and if I�d showered I would�ve washed my hair and right now I�d not only have these cold fingers I�d also have a cold wet head. This could be a good thing. But the no coffee thing� that can�t be good. When someone pulls away from me I tend to obsess about the why. And the how to get that person back. Why? How? What do I do next? How long do I wait? Can I let go completely? Am I simply being impatient? If I wait long enough will it all come to a conclusion, will it all make sense, later? Is there more to be learned? All I know so far is that I cannot seem to help repeating the same mistakes over and over. I honestly don�t think it�s possible for me to change. Maybe I don�t want to. Maybe once I open up to someone I�m overcome with thinking it�s amazing that I can do that, that despite what others think, I think it�s a valuable trait, the honesty, the openness. And I realize that most people don�t really want honesty. They�re so accustomed to being lied to, it�s all they know, they come to expect it. To be confronted with someone who expresses herself so completely, without fear, without thought to any future repercussions, must be rather frightening. Am I that formidable? In French, �formidable� means fantastic. �C�est formidable!� is loosely translated to mean �That�s fantastic!�, or maybe not so loosely. I have to know. That�s all there is to it. (oh, here comes Jeff�s rockin� song, �Eternal Life� � mmmmm� this guy knew he was gonna die, I�m not kidding) What do I have to know? Why he wanted to know what I want. Why would he write me that email, �What do you want? From anyone?�, and then when I wrote back, in detail, rather poetically I thought, why would he not respond at all? Two hands always, and on one I think �How rude! How horrible to read all that and not write anything at all in reply!�, and on the other I think, �Jesus, why do I empty myself onto my keyboard and click �send� all the damn time? What am I thinking? He no doubt thinks I am a total freak and he�s forwarded my email all over the place letting people know I�m psychotic!� Okay, the email after that, the one I wrote to let him know how disappointed I was after talking to him on the phone Sunday night, well, I did tell him not to feel obligated to reply, I was just letting off steam, but the other one, yeah, I mean, come on already. This is the best way to get to me. Ignore me. And I always think of Glen Close in �Fatal Attraction�, and hope I�m not that bad. I don�t think so. I�d never sleep with a married man. But you know, I understood her pain. I really did. Great movie, by the way. One of my favorite all-time � the editing is fantastic! C�est formidable!!! The bunny-boiling-rollercoaster sequence is one of the best in film, period. So, I�m cold. Every day. It�s really too cold in here. When I go out at lunch it will be too hot. All is extremes lately. Intense excitement, abject disappointment. There is no middle ground. Except what�s forced, what�s left when the rest is set aside for later. This is a great album. Truly. Maybe I could answer that �What 5 CDs would you take with you to a deserted island?�, assuming you have a CD player and lots of batteries� Probably �18�, �Grace�, �Kind of Blue�, something by Timbuk 3, maybe Bach violin concertos. Now it�s Van Morrison �Moondance�, also an excellent album. Here�s the thing, here�s how I am, and I�m really, really proud of myself for this � I gave Lulu Jon�s phone number so she could call him up and see about getting him to create some business cards and brochures for her. Sunday night I was thinking, �Fuck that, no way would I give him business, why would I be so nice to him, why would I send a prospective client his way, am I fucking crazy?!�, and on Monday, well, I wanted to help Lulu, and I thought I shouldn�t let my feelings for Jon, my anger towards him, keep me from helping them both. I shocked myself, truly. I listened as she called and left him voice mail, I listened later when he called her back and she told him what she had in mind. She was telling him how helpful, yet opinionated, I�d been in helping her design her brochure, and he told her that �Yes, she is direct�. I hung on that all that afternoon. I feel like a kid in school, �What did he say? Did he call you? Did you say anything about me?�, etc. It�s so childish. But I never would�ve helped someone out, someone who�d hurt me, not in one million years, before. ��a fantabulous night to make romance, �neath the cover of October skies�� The cubicle sweater is on now. I almost sat with my leg under me, on my chair, then remembered my tattoo, the A&D ointment I have on it, today being the last day before I switch to lotion, and I put it out ahead of me instead. The leg. I really do love my new tattoos, and I realize I wrote a whole entry on getting them, all about the three different artists I chose, how different each is, how different each experience was, but that entry was lost. I truly forgot it was lost, and when Pam asked in my guestbook how the lizard turned out I realized I never actually put that in, I did, but it was lost. The lizard is spectacular. I went in for it on Saturday, first thing, and all that day people complimented me on it. No kidding. People were stopping to look, asking if they could see. It�s got purple in the center, a spontaneous decision was made to add color. And it curves down my arm with the tail near my elbow. I love, love, love it. I didn�t already write about it, did I? It was lost, right? I think I�m lost. I was tattooed by three different artists, all very cool, all I�d go to again, and I hope I do. But in the effort to be here now, that�s left to stories, stories told personally to people I meet, if they want to know. And they won�t. I remember writing in my entry after the fateful �party� weeks ago that I had told Skipper there is something important to remember, that people will come and go, that you can count on that. I want to get back to where I was, trying to accept that my destiny is to be alone, because I do believe it. I think I try to deny it, I try to join in with the rest of society, the whole pairing up thing, the whole mating and bonding and procreating thing, I sometimes think I can do it too, but I can�t, I won�t, I�m terrible at it, and I need to embrace me, my own aloneness. This is now three pages in Word, so I stop here. Cost of the War in Iraq
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