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Monday, Jun. 24, 2002 / 6:39 p.m. ~Why? Because It's So Beautiful~ ***We have a problem, a conflict of interests. This is Norman's play time. Her "PLAY WITH ME!!!", time, and this is my "just got home from work, take off my clothes, put on a tshirt and shorts, or a nightgown, or jammies, or something else very comfortable and read diaries and check email and wonder what I'm going to eat for dinner" time. Somewhere there is a resolution. I think I'm too tired to eat. Too tired to forage for food. Too tired to go in the grocery store when I was right there in the parking lot depositing three, that's right, THREE, paychecks in the ATM. That's three paychecks I hadn't depositied in the ATM because I'm always too tired after work to do it, it's too much trouble, isn't there a drive through closer?, and wah, wah, wah.... Jesus, am I whiny or what?! Don't answer that. These are the rhetorical questions, there will be more later. Here's more whiny crap I wrote from work. Whiny crap I almost deleted, but no, I saved it to disk and I will fucking upload it now, fuck you very much. Like it or not. Yeah, I'm pissy today. I didn't talk to anyone. Everyone at work hates me, they are forumulating their own scenarios, their own imaginings wilder than any reality, no doubt. If they only knew......there's the rub.*** Here, for my diary, another entry: The survey responses were fun at first, but now they're all starting to sound pissy as I read them. I don't think it's only me. Look, if you don't want to answer the questions, don't take it. If you get started and you don't like where it's heading, stop, cancel it, back out, move along. I mean, maybe it's nice, sure, it is nice that people are jumping in, and I asked, I know, but I'm getting really bad vibes from it. "Faith" is different from "A Faith". A "Higher Power" can refer to any number of deities worshipped around the globe by people of all different religious persuasions (Buddha, Krishna, God, Jesus Christ, etc.). That is why I asked "which one?". There is more than one. (I want to say "there are, but MS Word tells me it's singular, "there is", and I say, "Oh, okay") It's simple really. On the other hand, some people have been so honest, so forthright, so accommodating, it's really surprising and wonderful. I'm not sure I'll ever create another survey though - I don't think I have the skin for it. Thin skinned, am I. I've just taken a sip of water and dripped it all over my shirt. Could be worse, I will not be getting up from this chair, in this cubicle, any time soon. Break is over, I'm here for the next two hours, except for getting up to urinate, no doubt. Oh, too much information? Shouldn't have read it, eh? I want to say I'd be happy if I could go lie down, and then I think I've been saying that for days. Or I want to say something about Moby, about how I just read in his online journal that he is getting hundreds of emails now that his addy leaked out, and though he changed it for his personal emails he is still accessing the old one to read all the stuff from fans - he says it's about 90% love now, 10% hate, and he is getting a lot out of it. But I always write about Moby. He's worth writing about. I think what happens is I interrupt my flow, I break through that "fourth wall", fraternize with folks here, and that makes me self conscious. Suddenly I'm too aware of what I'm writing, the language I'm using, the syntax, the sound as the words are read. It's no longer just words on a page, on screen, not paper, it's up for judgment, it's me on the line, and it loses its luster. The experience suffers. I am experiencing the most unusual pains, yesterday and today, and I'm surprised it's lasting this long. My lower back aches, my hip joints ache, and my thighs, my knees, not just my uterus, but my vagina too. I told Mark all about it yesterday, and he was an awfully good sport. (I also told him I was all stocked up on tampons and pantiliners, for our day together, and he said something like, "I am too, but I'm sure I use them for something different than you do." - I laughed and laughed�) I realized late in the evening that I could have taken some over the counter pain relief, some pain meds, some Ibuprofen, or Acetaminophen (spelling?), aspirin, Midol. It usually doesn't occur to me to "take something". I guess I feel it's important to feel the pain, try to describe it, at least to myself. That seems weird, that I am like that. Okay, I don't feel well at all. I feel detached, wanting to become even more detached. The desire is to get away, far, far away from all people, be home with the girls, door closed to the outside world. Won't be long now. 4:20 p.m., cubicle time. Wait, doesn't that have some sort of significance? Does it make sense for me to keep updating my diary when each time I do it's just to say the same thing? That's rhetorical. Don't answer. I've got to separate myself from the people who read this. For writing purposes. Example: I wrote something in someone's guestbook last night, something way over the line, way beyond anything acceptable or "right", but I felt compelled to confess. That's how I am. Unafraid. It's out there, I said it. So there. No, I'm not a lesbian, but yes, I can fall in love with words, and the person writing them. Words mean everything to me. How long since I referenced Moby? How many paragraphs back? That's why I felt I loved Moby, his writing, his words, and of course�his music. I still do, nothing's changed how I feel. I simply don't ever want to be perceived as some stalker-fan. Nor groupie ho. Mark called me. Yea! (pet peeve - people spelling "yea" "yay" - sometimes I do it just because I don't want it to be read as "yeah") He says he saw a cloud today that looked like Barney Rubble. From his office. Look out the window and see a puffy white Barney Rubble floating in the sky. He thought of little Amelie taking pictures of fluffy white bunnies and teddy bears� I've seen "Amelie" four times now, and I don't love it any less. Certain scenes still bring tears to my eyes, but I stop them from forming and falling down my cheeks. Mark asked why, why do they make me want to cry? "Because they're so beautiful", says I. Cost of the War in Iraq
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