Monday, August 27, 2001
I am a bad blog girl.
It's been six days since my last update. Yet, do not weep for that is an indication that I actually have a life.
First off, I went to the beach with mr. christopher this weekend. We stayed at the poorest excuse for a campsite that I have ever seen. Wow. We had fun, though.
The whole thing with Chris and I .. I'd gotten used to it, but it's still so odd. It's been especially odd for me lately. We talked a bit while we were on vacation (can you call two days a vacation?) and apparently he wants a monogamous relationship and, well, I don't. That's why I didn't want a boyfriend.
Plus, things have just felt odd lately. I need to talk to him about it, but it seems like our conversations can only happen at awkward, inconvenient times - like between his work and school (4-5:30) and before sleep, provided he comes over. I guess I could write a note but that seems so impersonal.
I just don't think I've really been here lately. My mind's been somewhere else. Not as bad as it used to be. But I'm through with my counseling sessions as of the 22nd, I've been off meds since January .. this is me. This is completely 100% Emily Dealing With Her Shit. This is me being only vaguely worried about money and my license being suspended and what my future is and being mainly mainly concerned with Christopher. Now, I ask you, dear reader - what's up with that?
I need to start writing again. My dreams have been getting more and more bizarre. Bonnie, a woman at my work who is really into metaphysical studies, told me that I should write. I think I'll take her advice.
But. Anyway. Emotions and mental states have been a greater concern to me than work and school and money. Those are such ephemeral, pointless, societal concocted creations - how could I consider myself real, or human, if I put great emphasis on them and not on my feelings and relations with others?
this
never gets easier.
06:51 p.m.
Tuesday, August 21, 2001
crazy day.
I admit.
Crazy.
I'm reading through old poetry. Some of it's pretty good. From 2000. My poetry's degraded much this past year. I haven't been so bitter and angry, so I haven't had much to write about. If those are the reasons, I can't say I'm very sad to be lacking poetically.
But that wasn't what was crazy today.
First off, I went to bed at 10pm last night (yay!). That was good. I woke up to the second ring of my alarm. Also good. I was depressed. That was decidedly bad. But really, the day wasn't too bad until I got to school. Skip that. I was not feeling well. I wanted to leave. I wanted to cry. But I stayed because I had a request client in the afternoon. That all went well. Then Karen, one of my classmates, asked me to help her wrap a perm she was doing. Then she asked me to help her find something, only in reality she wanted to get me away from the client to tell me that she thought the client had lice.
Worst of worsts - she did.
So did her daughter, who had gotten a perm today. Bad. Bad bad bad.
We had them leave, I started washing our smocks in insanely hot water (ouch). After everyone else left we got some bleach and bleached the stations and wash bowls and all the equipment that had come in contact with them. I ran over to Eckerd and got some Rid (lice shampoo) and we shampooed each other's hair. Gah.
Really, I just haven't been feeling well. I need to do laundry.
07:19 p.m.
Sunday, August 19, 2001
I love the Broadways.
"let's go down to the lake and take a swim in toxic waste."
Yes, Broken Van is as good as Broken Star. Go Broadways, Go. RIP.
Right now I'm just looking through stupid webpages. Some are amusing stupid, others are just confusing. Waiting for my old friend Chris (not christopher that I talk about constantly. Chris as in person that I've known for seven years and used to hang out with when I was 13 and 15) to call me as he said he would. He hasn't.
ugly internet is funny.
cold. tired. slept in. it's my day off, damn it. The big boss manager man called me today and asked if I wanted to pick up some extra hours. "When?" "Today." "No, sorry, I really can't.." IT'S MY DAY OFF.
I know why they needed me, too. Fred. He keeps calling off work randomly. Apparently he doesn't understand what "obligation" means. I wish Borders would fire people, but they never ever do. Rar.
There was a lot of introspective rambling I was going to go in to, but I've lost the gumption. I think I'll go and read "so long and thanks for all the fish" (my favourite book in the HHGTTG series) some more.
02:06 p.m.
Sunday, August 19, 2001
now I'm pissed.
I haven't been able to check my email (omnivore@netscape.net) for over a week now. That is bad. Right.
Finally got onto the alkaline trio board. I don't know why. It's really awful. Poor Alkaline Trio.
Oh, and looky looky. Mr. Christopher is worth $2,200,386.00. Probably because he doesn't have the bad genes like I do. I guess his family isn't diseased and weird like mine.
Got Broken Van by the Broadways. Their last recordings. Woohoo!
But, alas, now I am tired.
Crazy past few days. Crazy dreams. Gotta sleep. Tomorrow's my day off and I plan on taking full advantage of it.
01:38 a.m.
Wednesday, August 15, 2001
That's it. I give up.
I've been trying for quite some time to register on the Alkaline Trio messageboard, but to no avail. Honestly, I don't know why I would want to - the majority of the members have names that are direct quotes from songs or song titles, a fact which makes me queasy indeed. Not only that, they seem to be morons. Except for one person, who was the reason I wanted to register. Only now I give up. For now.
I've forgotten what I wanted to write, thanks to the very early arrival of one Mr. Christopher. I wasn't expecting him for another two hours, when I heard the door open and my dad say, "Oh! Hi Chris!" I leapt to my feet, knocking over my laptop and nearly tripping on cords in my frantic race to the door.
I then beat my dad at thumb-wrestling (for the Championship, apparently. Little known trivia : I can't beat Chris at thumb-wrestling. His thumb is too large and his reach too long), picked up my laptop, cooed at it, but no good. It wouldn't respond to my coddling so I put it to rest for the time being.
My stomach wasn't feeling well so I decided I should just drink copious amounts of chocolate soy milk.
MMmmm. Chocolate soy milk.
Still having weird dreams. Still can't figure them out. But, my hair still rocks. So does my shirt (which steve gave me for my ?18? birthday years ago).
More to say, don't feel like talking. Maybe I'll sleep early tonight.
Probably not.
08:40 p.m.
Tuesday, August 14, 2001
Apparently I am worth $1,878,858.00.
This is according to human for sale.com, a link I grabbed from skott's page (who is worth $1,625,268.00). The average value for a female is $1,682,897.00, so hey! I'm above average. I RULE.
Ah, summer. I love driving through the little crap-ass towns here, watching the little scrawny white kids on their skateboards. Seriously.
Now, sarcastically, I love walking into my house, only to find half the kitchen splattered with trash from the overturned waste recepticle. Not only that, it still smells like goddamned nasty dog. No wonder. The mother and her eight little offspring are still in the basement, stinking in the summerness.
But anyway. I got my Transmet postcard today. Now I just need a fitting place to stick it. I'm also reading obey giant.com, another link from skott's page though I semi knew about the movement before I ever saw this. I actually have an OBEY shirt from droog, one of my favourite clothing distributors. Granted, they're too expensive for me to get anything off-sale from, but they have some rocking clothing. If you're into that sort of thing. Which, well, I am.
Oo! New information just in! Gotta research it!
Ps, didn't get to go see fugazi - too much rain to warrant driving 2 hours in case it was cancelled. Unintelligible! Excited!
(40 minutes later)
Damn it. Not as exciting as I thought. I'll babble some more. I haven't been able to check my main email account (omnivore@netscape.net) for something like 4 days now because it hasn't been letting me login. I HATE netscape. I will not use it anymore -- as soon as I can switch my emails over to pirateswin@hotmail.com, I will. Really, I should get something less corporate. Pah!
Also, I was going to have to re-take some stupid test at school that is insanely hard. But since the teachers are the ones that lost the test, they decided to just give me 100% on it, as it was their fault it was lost in the first place.
Yesterday I watched Junkyard Wars. I think I'm in love.
Kind of.
I sent in the application for my OLL (occupational limited license) yesterday so I can keep driving to school and work while my license is suspended in September. Rar rar rar. Stupid fucking speeding grr.
But really, I started my last four weeks of school today.
FINALLY.
Countdown to no more Empire employed.
08:01 p.m.
Sunday, August 12, 2001
My breasts are shrinking.
This is rather upsetting for me. Mind you, I had rather large breasts to start with, but that doesn't mean I want them to go melting off my body for unforseen reasons. I am admitedly concerned. Wouldn't you be?
On the good side of a weird thing, this means I'll be able to fit back into bras I haven't been able to wear since I was, oh, 14. Damn.
Anyway.
The house is starting to smell like dog. That sucks. Stupid dog having puppies. Rar. I want to name them, though. I was thinking of the following names : Spider Jerusalem, Channon Yarrow, Yelena Rossini, Mitchell Royce, Sam, Max, John Constantine, and maybe a name from HHGTTG. [to those not in the know : the first four names are from Transmetropolitan, Sam and Max are from the self-named comic and computer game, John Constantine is the main character in the comic Hellblazer, and HHGTTG stands for Hitchhikker's Guide to the Galaxy, only one of the best literary series EVER.] But somehow I doubt I'll get to name any of them. My luck.
I have four more weeks of school left. This is several more weeks than I thought I'd have. It does mean, however, that there are now four more weeks for me to find $3664.86 or whatever I have to pay. The excitement just never ends, now, does it?
In other news (or whatever you want to call it), Eric at automatic taxi stop still rocks the great webpage. He has a rather introspective original weblog and his zany antics and wording certainly keep me amused. BUt I'm not gonna plug his page or anything. Nope.
Heh.
Now, some quotes.
First, the Broadways. If I had a wish I'd do away with capitalist society; I'd make a world where smiles and laughs are worth more than money; if this world would blow up then I'd finally get a decent night's sleep; and everynight I pray for sweet dreams and an H-Bomb.
The Dalai Lama. When things are not going well for someone we dislike, what is the point in rejoicing? It does not make his present suffering any worse and even if it did, how sad it would be that we should wish such a thing.
And now, from a page picked at random in the newest Transmetropolitan comp, Lonely City. What is this, remedial day? Dickfungus crawled up your spin and filled the front of your brain with ooze and chlorophyll? They've made no arrests.
The cops are going to make this go away. It's a minority slaying and they don't give a shit.
The last one now, as I'm listening to Swingin Utters, is from them. I can't believe the things you say to me are so boring. I can't believe anything you do to me is done sober. I can't obtain a sense of patience and I can't ordain you as my patient but you chew away at all my nerves like I'm your servant. I can't sustain it.
Have a pleasant day.
03:42 p.m.
Thursday, August 9, 2001
Stories.
The past few days I've been trying to clean my room. The very decision to attempt this is a feat in itself, let alone the actual act. I realized yesterday why I stopped even bothering.
The memories.
Oh, sweet, bitter memories. One could even call them, yes, I dare, bittersweet. I found old printed out emails and photographs and stories and drawings. So many emotions, so overwhelming - I sat down and stared at something, though I can no longer remember what, aware of the total emptiness I was purposely replacing the pain with. People do that sometimes. We take our emotions and replace them with nothing. Remove them, like cutting a cyst from the below the skin. Empty bloody hole to greet your probing mind.
Hello emotions, how are you?
Non-existant, thank you.
They came back when I asked them nicely. I enjoy feeling. Despite the insanity it can incur, the sanity it places in my breast at times is so relieving.
The dog had her puppies today. My dad called me at school, worried because he hadn't seen her. Later he came in to Empire for a hair cut and I told him that he shouldn't worry, she was hiding herself as instinct would tell her to do, so she could have her puppies unmolested. I was right, though he panicked for several more hours before finding her under the ramp in the outdoor riding ring. Silly man. He should listen to me. I enjoy my rightness from time to time.
Three haircuts today.
Count-down.
07:30 p.m.
Wednesday, August 8, 2001
got that feeling -
I'm sure you know the one. The one where you feel so many things inside you want to cry, but can't. Instead you sit there and feel numb, awash in memories, expectation, and fear. So many dreams you fear you'll have to pack away before they can even nudge into infancy. Stillborn plans. Dead in the placenta.
Gnaw off the embilical cord - start again. More fear this time, though the chance of rejection is no greater, it feels as though it is. It gets harder after each death to give birth to another dream. How far will this one get? Will I ever hear it speak to me outside of thoughts and sleep?
My favourite park was closed today. Springettsbury Park. It has some beautiful trees and a couple baseball diamonds, swings, tennis court, basketball court, neat big playground, and just all around fun stuff. A month or two ago they started taking stuff down. The merry-go-round. The swingsets outside of the actual fenced-in playground. Then they dismembered the tennis court, basketball court, and the fences behind the baseball diamonds. Everything was being taken down - the benches, the neat latticed dome Christopher once trapped me in and laughed as I struggled fruitlessly to free myself, the chain link fence around the parking lot. My special place that I used to visit every day after school, where Chris and I cemented our friendship, was being slowly gang-raped.
Yesterday, three trees were marked with orange - orange tape tied around them, orange dots spray-painted on their trunks, and an orange circle around their bases. My favourite tree, the one I sat under every day and contemplated as I lay in its shade, was going to be torn down.
I am not a happy Emily.
So I ripped the orange tape off and tied it around my bookbag. I rubbed the orange circle off of the dirt and grass around the trunk and tried to scrub the orange circle off of my tree. MY TREE. The tree and I had an understanding. I was ok with it dropping spiders on Christopher and I, it was ok with me sitting under it and staring at the beauty of its leaves and pondering the way its branches joined its trunk. We were in mutual adoration of each other, I think.
Yesterday when I got to the park and saw the orange, I sat down and stared for a very long time at it, until I felt Christopher's hands on my shoulders. Without breaking my gaze from the tree, I spoke.
"Does that mean what I think it does?"
"I think so."
I almost cried.
And today the park was closed. I've been going there like faulty clockwork since March, and this is the first time it was ever closed. There was orange mesh fencing all over the place. I looked for my tree, but couldn't get a good view from any angle. I may have to find a new place to go after this. I don't know where, but I'm unsure of my ability to deal with the death of one of my most understanding friends. That was a beautiful beautiful tree.
Fuck you, Springettsbury Township. That was a damn good tree you're destroying.
Fuck you long and hard, with a rusty rusty chainsaw. Anally.
08:14 p.m.
Monday, August 6, 2001
my first ebay purchase.
anything for you, Transmetropolitan.
I am a fool for your goodness.
Uh. Guess it's been a few days. Chris, Kevin, and I went to see Moulin Rouge yesterday. Rowr. I liked it a whole lot. Very pleasing visually and amusing for my ears. Kevin bawled, I cried, Christopher sat. But I suppose I wouldn't have it another way.
I worked 9-5 today - first time for me since I've been at Border's. But I was with Chris, so it was fun. I didn't mind.
I'm tired and my head hurts. And my finger is stupid and keeps being open instead of healed and closed, which is how I want it to be. But on the good side of things, I only have a few services left to do in school. Now I just have to find $3000 to pay off my tuition so I can graduate. Wooee.
Someday I'll be exciting again.
I guess it's exciting that I sliced up an "EMPIRE BEAUTY SCHOOLS" sticker so that the one on the back of my car now says "EMPIRE BEAUTY SCHOOL SUCKS." How's that for school spirit?
Yeah. I know. Real mature. But at least I'm not lying.
06:31 p.m.
Thursday, August 2, 2001
arrrrrrchive.
Happy August!
Here's your present- july archived!At least, I hope so. Maybe I messed up. Didn't I say before that archiving makes me nervous?
It does.
Hey, know who I haven't heard from in a long time? Steve (from Andover, Mass, not my exboyfriend Steve). I should write to him. There are a lot of people I should get in contact with. My mom wrote to me the other day and complained at me because I hadn't written to her in a month or so. She's lucky it had been such a short amount of time ..
I got "It's the end of the world again," a graphic novel written by Neil Gaiman. How exciting. I really should stop spending my money. I told myself I wouldn't buy anything, but when I walk into a comic store it's nearly impossible for me to not buy something. Soon I'm gonna start working on my Sandman and Preacher collection. But really, where to start? (not to mention Sin City, Hellblazer, and Dork [sidenote: they're compiling dork now! yay!! no more single issues that I would have to buy!] to name a few)
Uh. Hm. No clever anticdotes for me to relay. No heart-warming stories. Nothing enlightening that I care to express. Sorry kids, I'm dry.
Now go read your comics.
08:20 p.m.
