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i'm going to do this again [Sep. 4th, 2004|12:35 am]
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i haven't looked at livejournal for a few while now. i have a couple, this one and ithinkiloved you. i looked at ithinkiloved you recently because someone left a comment and it went to my email. i cringed. for some time i cringed. i cringed and i thought and i read.
i dont want to read through this one yet. i'm sure there will be more cringing. and its not because there are mistakes and its not because of what i know now, and didn't know then going into some situation that would have been better left untouched.
its just the falseness of the entries. you read these and you can make me anyone you want. because i'm not in them. at all.
especially ithinkilovedyou. yes those things happened. yes i thought those thoughts. but there was so much more. there was humanity there. there was interaction and emotion and real life people doing real life things. you can't read that in the entries. you only read cynicism and hurt and bitterness.
i am not like that. i dont think like that and i dont live like that. i dont remember what this journal says. i remember at the time i wrote in it, i liked it.
so, i was talking to a friend. a livejournal come real life friend. and he talked me into getting back into this. just because writing in an internet journal feels good. i dont know why it does, maybe the chance of an audience? maybe the ease of typing verus hand writing. i dont know. but it does feel good. and i enjoy doing it. so i figured i'll start clean.
i created a new journal, its called tufenuf, i'm sorry, i forgot how to make that into a link. i'll figure it out eventually again, meanwhile, bear with me.
i'll be updating that one. i'll write truthfully. that doesn't mean there'll be many details, i'm torn on how i feel about details. but i wont be a robot. i promise.
i think thats it for this one.
thanks for reading it.
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(no subject) [Dec. 26th, 2003|06:53 pm]
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you know what really pisses me off... i'm going to tell you
say a friend of yours, not even necessarily a friend, just say someone you know well enough to argue with, is being a fucking ass.. blatantly obnoxious and deserving of a snide comment.. so you give them one. you say something geared at beginning an argument.
i do this all the time. i say shitty things to many people, friends, family, strangers.. no one is exempt from my wrath... or as i like to think of it.. charm.
so i say something brilliantly witty and superior to this annoyance of a human being to reprimand them for their behavior, and instead of being anything worthy of life and birthing whatever their feeble brain could muster to fight back, they say something like, are you upset about anything?
yes, i am, you dirty twitch of an anus. if i wasn't i wouldn't have said that [well, i would have, but maybe you wouldn't] but instead of cooperating with me, your almighty goddess, you pussy out and fail at your sole purpose.. my entertainment.
god i fucking hate you.
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(no subject) [Dec. 10th, 2003|12:38 am]
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my guy got elected. pretty exciting.
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average doesn't cut it [Dec. 9th, 2003|01:13 am]
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i hope that no one has had the misfortune of watching 'average joe' because it is absolutely god-awful. one among the myriad of made-for-tv-love shoes. and yes, i watched it. and no, that doesn't make me crap, it only means my brain had to lay still and cry while i paused from writing a paper.
but all that aside, it does bring up a point about sexual attraction. it seems to me that viewers might be prone to root for the sweet, homely fellow as opposed to the soulless, careerless, tall, tan, chiseled chin one. i see where they're coming from. ya, sure, the ugly kid's a sweetheart, and he deserves a break. and to sweeten the pangs of undesirable sex, he's even got money. he can afford to keep you boozed up for such procedures. but even that was not enough for the lovely princess of missouri.
i just wonder how many people would have chosen differently. i know someone would have. i've seen those couples. but even they are not always immune to the intoxication of beauty. is it a question of possession? like owning a nice car? is it more of a mating instinct? best looking offspring?
or does it fill the gaping holes in a person's self worth? does it make someone feel like a proper human being by virtue of attractive mate? does it blind them to glaring personality faults? and are they really falling in love or just clinging on to what their ego so desperately lacks?
i think lust can be very misleading. and i think it can mislead people for years. through marriages, through divorces, through a long time. i think some people learn, and change. but some never do.
i think a beautiful mate is often an extension of insecurity. probably not always. and i think some people find certain people more attractive than others for different reasons. but it seems to me, that it might be enough to think someone is the most beautiful person you've ever seen to make a lot of mistakes. to confuse a lot of feelings. and to put yourself into the position of worshiper. not a good place for a healthy relationship. i don't think. could be wrong.
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blood sucking beast [Dec. 3rd, 2003|09:10 pm]
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failure is a scary thing. in many ways. what i hate most about it is it sends you down that proverbial spiral. once you start screwing up you feel almost compelled to keep doing it. you screw up once, feel terrible, try and make things better, then you screw up again and again and again. and it just keeps going. knocks down your faith in your abilities. until you just start thinking that you can't do any better, that you are no better. that you're trapped in mediocrity forever. and might as well stop trying to scamper out, because better things aren't for people like you.
maybe you start comparing yourself to people you used to look down on. maybe you start rethinking your goals. maybe you start aiming lower. maybe you start thinking you deserve less.
i hate the spiral. i hate the stream of screw ups. i screwed up for years before. it just wouldn't stop. i wouldn't let it stop. the more stupid things i did, the more i screwed up my life, the more i did it. maybe its that whole idea that you hit rock bottom before you get up. maybe its just a loss of hope, of confidence, of motivation. i don't know.
i've noticed lately when people come to me with their problems my immediate response is to offer solutions, to suggest things they can do to change their situation. and on that note, i read something about russian conversational traditions, and it was saying that lamentations are an art form practically, and definitely a more, its the way you talk to people. you have pissing contests as to whose life is more screwed up. and the author of that book was american and she tried to offer the lamenting russians solutions to their woes, and they just didn't want to hear it at all. they just wanted to lament.
maybe its an american thing of me to think of these solutions. but maybe it isn't. maybe its an aversion to the past. to the years of crap, to the years spent fixing that crap. i still remember when things finally got good. it was such a relief. and ever since then i've been determined to keep it that way. not to go back to being a screw up and simmering in my own puddle of self-loathing.
its really unpleasant. its really a huge waste of time. quality of life minus self-loathing doesn't even compare. its infinitely better. and i flat out refuse to start up that shit again. i think i did it for long enough. ten years give or take.
so i'm going to have to overcome this screw up. or series of screw ups. and leave the spiral the fuck alone.
i feel like i spent enough time moping about my average abilities. i just have to work around it now. i'm just going to have push through on ambition alone.
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my weekend. by me. [Nov. 24th, 2003|03:26 am]
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anxiety keeping me awake as the first stings of sobriety prepare me for the workweek. a short workweek. one that allows for a sleepless night. (note name)
i had a nice weekend. i almost forgot all about what was bothering me. i went to my favorite place in this half of the state by myself and sat there and drank coffee and watched people that remind me of where i came from. both sooner and later. i walked around and looked at things and people filtered through music that lends itself to fantasies of unrealized grandeur.
i saw lots of couples, young and old. i wondered what made the old ones stay together. i wondered if i could predict how long the young ones would last.
then i broke my quarantine and went to a birthday party. you know those choices you get that you know will change your life? not the ones of school, work, location. but little ones. you know if you say yes you'll never be the same. for better or worse. i talked about one of those choices. i even played the role. like a sample. a teeny peek into what it might be like if i said yes. i've never been able to make this choice. and i probably won't have to. because of the other ones; school, work, location.
then there was food, with a waiter bent on teaching me the laws of demography. and after, i feared for my health and fell asleep. and now i'm awake. and thinking about all the thoughts that all the events made me think.
i don't think foreignness ever goes away. not yours or the place's. i thought it did. but i'm starting to think not. maybe with a huge effort, a constant never-ceasing effort. but then, you could never forget it, through this effort, so it wouldn't go away anyway. so, i dont' think it ever goes away. which is only bad at first. when its most obvious and most uncomfortable. but then it becomes a state in itself. not just a state of mind, or being, or thinking, but a geo-political entity. a state. somewhere you live. somewhere you vote, if that happens to be the case. which army you join, if you so choose, or are forced to. which news you listen to, if you should be so lucky. and thats where you live. not a native, not a foreigner. just some strange assimulatory half breed. eroticized by natives. iconoclized by new comers. link to two worlds. fluent in neither.
and what i was thinking about that was the quest to acculturate. the anchors that stop you. your family, your food, your face. and the things that you grab onto to pull you through it. your friends, your lovers, new food, new hair, new music. only to forget or hide the fact? or out of affection? this may all not make any sense at all. and i have a feeling that tomorrow it won't, but for the time being, all i was thinking was that some people i dated in high school i wore as a badge of my americanness.
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mundane [Nov. 21st, 2003|06:24 pm]
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i hate cooking. i hate it. i hate food too. i hate it most because its always interrupting me. i'll be enjoying a perfectly good existential crisis when my body annoyingly draws attention to itself. it always wants something. eat. sleep. shit. its distracting. especially when i try to rise above. get philosophical. or even sad. and just when i'm preparing myself for a good cry and a good write. thats when i suddenly need to eat. i hate food. but not as much as i hate cooking. its a tragedy. whatever my mother tells me to do, its lost on me. she makes it taste good. i make little black coals. she said use onions. stupid onions. they made me cry and washed away my stupid mascara. its sitting there, in the kitchen. smelling like shit. my proud trophy. the fruit of my labor. mocking me. scoffing at me. stinking with glee.
enough about that. i'll eventually eat it. out of principle.
i went to the bookstore today. three actually. i was looking for a book, a relatively well-known book, a reasonably pretentious book. and i didn't know who wrote it. i can't just go and ask one of the computer clerks to tell me. that takes away my right to make pretentious face when i pay for it. because, as a student, i am necessarily poor, and choose to spend what little i have, not on frivolities, but on intellectual pursuits of the highest kind. so i can't very well ask who wrote it. i looked at all the shelves in the fiction section. all of them. a to z. and i eventually found it, right next to a book i read in glamour about. i had been wanting to read it since then. its very funny. not so pretentious. but funny. so i'm reading that first. and i like it so much that i was going to recommend it to my parents. its about immigrants, so i thought they might like it. but then i got to a sex scene. and not only do i not want my parents thinking that i read about sex, this was sad, ugly, naked, fat people sex. which is infinitely worse for my parents to think i read about. not that there's anything wrong with fat people sex. well, actually to my parents there is. they have a very strange fat phobia. as if being fat signifies defeat. failure. moral collapse. you can imagine what this did to my tender adolescent self image. so i just don't want them to think that i condone fat people immigrant sex. a lecture would ensue.
i can't say i miss lectures much. thats a nice thing about them missing me. they try not to antagonize me when they see me. they still give me strange and irrelevant advice. but they're nice about it. i'm really looking forward to going home. i think there's something unnatural about not seeing your family at least once every couple of weeks. you know, americans are the only ones that do that. leave the nest and what not. strange people.
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(no subject) [Nov. 17th, 2003|10:08 pm]
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my god! do you ever read through your journal???
jeez. why didn't anyone warn me.
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(no subject) [Nov. 17th, 2003|08:19 pm]
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i was walking behind a middle aged couple today. they were kind of dressed up, in that out of date middle aged way. they seemed to be in a rush. the woman went to take the man's hand, but that moment he was putting his keys into his pocket. then the man went to take the woman's hand, but she was fixing her dress. then their hands found each other. it looked like a good grip, too. mutual. comfortable. and they walked in somewhere together. i think they like walking in places together more than separate.
and it made me feel really alone. and really far away from home.
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(no subject) [Nov. 16th, 2003|05:25 am]
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sometimes its really important to think. to remember things. to feel sweet things that you let go of a long time ago. sometimes you have to remind yourself that you haven't changed as much as you think you have. that you're not what you pretend to be. sometimes you have to remember that deep down inside you still know what is right and what is wrong. you still know what is pure and what is tainted. and sometimes you have to remind yourself that you're not as tough as you think you are either. that your underbelly has taken quite a beating, and you just need some time to get better. sometimes you have show your friends how much you love them. sometimes you have to admit to yourself how much you need them. its important to stop and think. i always forget to do that.
i have to remember when i wasn't afraid to be sweet. when i knew when i was being honest. when knowing something was wrong stopped me from doing it. when i listened to myself.
i remember when people would make me sad, and indignant, and cynical. and i would think about all kinds of things. and i would think that my mind was clear and i wouldn't be able to forget. and i thought that no matter how hard i tried i would always be able to see. and i miss that.
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