SFD- work

right now i am feeling inadequate and angry
the story that i am telling myself is that he doesn't think i'm good enough or smart enought
the story i'm telling myself is that i'm just a peon and he doesn't trust me

So we sat down. We had a conversation. I really thought that we had some things figured out, and that we had established some standards for each other's conduct with each other. I came in this morning ready for that new process, ready to bring my calm and measured self, ready to be straightforward and clear and honest.

In our interaction i felt that Jeff was dismissive, demeaning, aggressive and frustrated. When he said, are you really... blah blah blah in that tone my brain said NOT OK. ABSOLUTELY NOT OK. and in the past, i would have gone and felt shitty about it for a while and been afraid of him coming up behind me or been worried about making it better.

I really don't want people to talk to me in dismissive, derisive tones. Also, it seems like he can be explosive and unpredictable. I have enough of that at home, honestly. "minefield environments breed trauma."

I have been feeling intimidated and afraid at work. I am afraid of making mistakes and Jeff's reaction.

I have led a lot of people. Perhaps hundreds. The only person I spoke to this way was Peter Mohr, who was a fucking idiot and never actually did anything I asked him to, and I could never honestly evaluate his turf.

So basically, when you talk to me in that way what I hear is, "why aren't you actually working? why won't you follow directions? why won't you help the team??" I hear disrespect, patriarchy.

One of the overall and more disturbing issues, tho, is the assumption in the question: Are you really going to keep using these words after i've said I hate them?

Why yes. yes I am. I am using these words to explain to you how we can get to some new words. Even without that explanation the assumption that I will be quiet and suddenly stop with something you dislike just because you said you don't like it is deeply problematic. There's a power assumption there larger than employer-employee, even bigger than parent-child. It's really patriarchal. I am the man, I say what gets said, and if you keep saying it i get to get ANGRY.

Then the statement: I don't want to get grouchy.

Because you don't want me to get grouchy, because then I aim my feelings at you and that's awful for you all day and you're on eggshells.

What do I want?

I have really wanted this job to work. I thought that my relationship with Jeff was stronger and more honest than it apparently is. I asked him how he was. He said good. He's obviously not good, or our relationship is problematic, or something, because why else would this happen??

It seems like this job is not working. And I want it to work.

i just keep rumbling and I cannot find the revolution here. Where is the redemption???? How do I make this relationship better?? How can I change so it is better? What do I have to do, or feel???

what is the thing that is most challenging to do.

In this situation: draw your boundaries.

walking away is easy.

staying and allowing abuse is my normal.

staying and being clear about what is and is not ok and enforcing those boundaries is the hardest thing.

because i am afraid of anger and being rejected.

encourage honesty: not brutality, but honesty.

one person's criticism sends me to the moon

here's the deal.

i'm raising dragons
they scream and rumble and fly
off of furniture and into bodies
they demand and purr and
burn

i'm raising tigers
they nap and claw and snarl
over food and playthings
they lick with rough tongues
wetly

i'm raising hapa kids
who will have strength and wisdom to face
racist
sexist
assumptions of everyone around them with
resilience and humor

they will SNARL
they with RUMBLE
they will DEMAND

they will look into those boxes
you want to shove them in

and they will burn them.

they will say
NAH

which is what I say to you.

goals

"An extremely awake 2/3 is someone whose generosity is so continuous and so genuine that it seems to be an inseparable part of the personality. Never is there even the tiniest hint that anything is expected in return -- in fact, extremely advanced 2/3 sometimes becomes so good at giving that the recipient never finds out where the help came from (or even that it has happened). 2/3 saints somehow encourage the universe to shower gifts on others. Generosity comes through them, not from them."

more SFD forever

today i did pretty well. Actually got through a lot of laundry. I didn't hate on myself as much as i have been for the past year. I've been rumbling with things-- with my shame about RWF in particular. I spoke with Jon the other night and it was so wonderful to see how shocked he was at the things i've been telling myself. i cried, i was honest, and he really comforted me. i saw that he doesn't blame me, and that was surprising.

but it's still in there, the voice. it still whispers at me, even on the good days. it's the voice that says, you're doing good, today. today is good. despite it all. despite what you've done. despite how you've fucked up your family and your finances.

how am i rumbling? this is the real question. a session on Monday. processing with Jon. Facing what's really happening. getting clear on what's actually happening--

getting curious. noticing what's real, and what it's really about.

quieting the voices that make up all the stories.

my mission statement

to lead my life in the present with discipline, love and compassion in service to my community, family and partner.

EDIT: to lead my life with confidence and clear boundaries in the present moment with discipine, love and compassion in service to my family, partner and community.

mother, daughter, partner, niece, business comrade, anti racist, activist, leader.

i need a rudder. something to remind me where and how i'm going.

this should help.

more sfd. this might be the thing

forever.

right now i feel like jon doesn't want me to take care of myself. i'm feeling resentful, a little bit. he works so much and can't do a whole lot else and i feel like he just wants me to suffer too.

i'm telling myself this story, that i might not ever accomplish anything. that i'm too broken, that i'll never have the time or the drive to make it happen. that i'll just be lazy and stuck and fucked up and fat and ugly and getting so old every day.

and that i don't have the energy to have the discipline. that without discipline-- which i've never had anyway-- i will just keep us in the loop of mediocrity, depending on others, mired in debt.

basically, i'm a piece of shit. a mediocre, addicted piece of shit. i can't stop watching shitty tv to dull the pain and the angry voices in my head. i can't focus. i can't i can't i can't i can't.

getting curious about these feelings---
where do they come from?
- EC sexual abuse
- general sexism
- failure at RWF
- class oppression/capitalism. failure to win in a system i hate.
- sizeism/parent oppression!!!!!

the shitty first draft

that i've been telling myself this past year, it's so well run in my head its so far past a first draft, it's like a well worn trail in the deep dark woods of my brain i've walked it so often, obsessively.

basically, after rwc, i feel totally incompetent. lacking integrity. i feel like i've so completely compromised myself i don't know how to get back, and that this story i've told everyone about how i was trying to right the ship... i know i was, but i was also so deep with the kids and trying to stay above water with the basic finances, i know that i wasn't doing everything i should. i didn't try hard enough. i didn't force the issue. i didn't do enough. i allowed other people to run over me. and it's not the first time.

and i am telling myself that I'm an awful parent. i really am. i hurt fina yesterday with my words. and i couldn't stop myself. and i feel so much shame and embarrassment and fear, i don't want her to hate herself and feel shameful because i lost my shit yesterday. twice. i just couldn't handle life. i couldn't handle being a parent. i hated myself. and inside i feel like i hate myself more for it. and how do i help her with the shame i've given her??? how do i help her discharge?? i'm just such a piece of shit. i wish i could be a better mom, a better friend to her. someone she could count on, that she didn't have to tiptoe around. i can't be a time bomb for her i need to be dependable. but no one has been able to depend on me.

no one has been able to depend on me, i'm basically a piece of shit. the story that i've made up-- my deepest, darkest story about myself-- is that i'm totally worthless. i got my family into the business and i allowed the business to fail. i'm a shitty alcoholic that has exposed her kids to awful behaviors. the story that i've made up about myself is that i've ruined everythign and shown everyone what a piece of shit i am and there's no way back, and even if I try i'm still going to be a totally shitty parent.

this is the story i've made up. i desperately don't want it to be true. but i'm so afraid that it is. and i'm so ashamed of myself and what i've done.

the most important thing i need to do is find and keep my center. because i've been knocked down to the ground, and i need to RISE. Rise stronger, better than I was before. and that is going to take some serious self-reflection, and probably more sacrifice.

ok so now, how do i rumble this?? gotta wade in, somehow, to this horrible dark stuff.

It's been a long, difficult year. and honestly i've lost myself some along the way-- gotten stuck in a mire of shoulds and self doubt that sometimes becomes more than just toxic. It's positively eroding me. I'm diving into brené brown in an effort to find strategies to uncover myself, to reform these shitty asshole voices driving me down, and honestly making me do shitty things to the people i love best. so this is my shitty first draft, where i put down all the shitty things i think of myself right now and how it impacts my behavior. Awesome.

I lost my shit yesterday with Fina and i'm terrified that I shamed her. i am stuck in this loop of self hate and annoyance, and things are heightened again since Jimmy died. i really loved him. i didn't go to the memorial. and that really hurts. i should have gone. really, i feel like i'm a shithead asshole who doesn't care about her loved ones. and then i hurt Fina because i'm so fucking exhausted from a week of sickness and sleepless nights and guests and huge dinners in my tiny house and etc.

white supremacists and military colonialism

it's getting hot in the belly of the beast.

tiki torches wielded by nazis
while the US offers Guam up on a platter

a sacrifice for international experiments
about north korean power.

it's not a quiet rise
these white men
awkward
pale men

he stands behind a podium
threatening folks
thousands
hundreds of thousands
brown people of the pacific

while subtly
not so subtly patting the
backs of his
awkward brethren

who killed
a woman
in the name of their
nazi work

his podium
hiding his
incontinence.

incompetence

so when we talk about

reaching out to white supremacist folks, saving the souls of white people, bringing each other into multiracial movements. This is critical, this is an important statement. BUT.

there is a HUGE gap between our thinking, our writing, and our action. What does it really mean to get out there, to have a conversation with someone with DEEPLY different beliefs, and work to bring them along to your perspective?? What does it look like to dig deep, put yourself aside, and really fucking listen to shit that tears your heart out? Find those niches, the little places in someone's perspective, to get a handhold and open up a crack of doubt for that person, a place to let some new thinking in? How many of us really put ourselves on the line to make that happen?

how many of us are scared to go talk to a nazi?

i am. i've talked to nazis. in the depths of fucking fresno, i've knocked on nazi doors and looked a nazi in the face and worked to bring them into the union. i was scared shitless. but i did it. because everyone fucking belongs in the union. i didn't want to do it again.

i'm scared of violence. i'm scared of their guns and their fists and their hatred. i'm fucking scared. but you know what going to jail taught me, getting chased by security guards taught me, talking to scary people taught me? that I WILL SURVIVE IT, partially because I'M FUCKING WHITE.

where are we, white organizers? what are we putting out there? how are we putting ourselves on the line to end white supremacy? what is the bootcamp for us? the union was my bootcamp. my lead was a white socialist anti-racist. my coworkers were intersectional organizers. i was fucking blessed to be at UHW-West. It made me a better person, mostly.

let's do a bootcamp, ya'll. let's get serious with outreach to each other. it's not just rural organizing. it's door to door in our neighborhoods. it's in our workplaces. it's in our schools, colleges. let's expect a lot from each other. let's push each other, want to be the best at turning nazis into not nazis.

militant organizations committed to ending white supremacy.

living with a

wounded heart. i don't think I ever believed that life could be so deeply fraught. There is something deeply terrifying about now. i cannot imagine what will happen, as I could never have imagined what has happened. in any way. it's all a confusion of shock. we know we cannot predict, but we cannot be prepared for the shock of life, as it comes at you, unexpected.

i am so aware now that I have not been living my life. i've been here, kind of, in and out in a sort of fugue state. i cope with whatever i can. anything but substances. i've been able to at least stay sober.

and at least I can see it now. i carry lots of guilt. i carry so much guilt and sorrow and loss about this. there is also relief, though it is fleeting.

i know, in my gut, that we are blessed to not be in the situation anymore. we can get out with bankruptcy. we will move on, we are moving on. what they do i cannot even contemplate. i try to keep it from my mind. i try to keep them from my mind.

and everything else. everything else. melting. cooling. heating. flooding. fires. too much to list. and two children to wonder if they'll have a future.

how can i focus on the debt, the simple debt, when this is what we truly face?

get it off your plate. especially the ugly stuff. just do it quickly and move on.

the most important thing i can do now is think well about what is truly happening here. how can i apply positive mental health habits and be a better person? today was not a day i was proud of. i was short with my children.

i need to be reflective, and honest with myself. the first step is writing every night. being reflective on each day. so that the next can be better than the last.

i'm realizing

that somehow along the way here, perhaps after two pregnancies, and in the midst of raising these beautiful youngsters, my children and my business, i lost my drive. i got sunk. i got in deep to my suffering, and i've been living there for a long, long time.

and now that I can see it, i'm done.

and i'm mainlining what i need. i wish i could believe that old mechanisms could help me re-order this disorder of my life; i wish i could take that time. but i have to decide that NOW, this moment, i am done. I will notice my favorite way to suffer and i will allow it to pass me by.

I am dedicated to living in a beautiful state.

i'm working on

seeing the positive in all situations. i've been stuck in a negative rut for.... years? maybe? and it has really sucked.

when i die, i don't want my thoughts to be: why didn't I allow myself to be happy?

why did I drag myself through the mud every single day?

why couldn't I enjoy putting my children to sleep, one on each arm, singing songs to soothe them?

I want to believe that I put the best spin on life, regardless of how much money was in the bank. regardless of other people's feelings-- about money or otherwise.

the differences

are palpable.

working class responses are not usually measured, even. we scream, we rant, we kick and we rumble. we are loudly outraged. unless we have been broken.

yes, sure, i have been broken, but my shards cut still. i'm not done. i can still get up.

and when i get up i'll still be yelling. you may not like yelling. does it grate on your ears, make you worry something might be wrong? does violence violate your genteel sensibilities? are you worried that violence will not accomplish the goal, will alienate the opponent?

who are we, then? are we negotiating while people die? are we pleading at the bargaining table with folks bleeding out under the boss' heel?

i cannot help you, friend. i believe in helping others get to the place of understanding our demands, using love to help them see. BUT. they are shooting people in their cars in front of their children; gunning people down while they try to earn an extra dollar to put food in their kids mouth.

but i can't be calm and measured in this historical moment, with these circumstances. we must, as organizers, use the urgency of the moment, the rage of US, the sadness and the helplessness, to offer an opportunity to put hands and arms and mind and muscles to the ending of this violent, scared white supremacy. let's not encourage people to be calm, let's encourage people to take their anger and their fear and take ACTION.

now is not a time for calm, now is a time to FIGHT.

and don't get me wrong. we need the cops. ON OUR SIDE, FIGHTING. Those who stay on the other side can get what they get as the tide rolls in.

why create

something new when something old fits the purpose.

2016. So many years. I feel so old. And today so worn out. I can't figure out who I am anymore, in the tumult of everyone else, in the aether of my children and my business, it's just me reacting hoping doing cleaning loving raging. I read in a novel recently that if you don't know what you're going to do, you could do anything. this could be both very scary and very hopeful-- i worry, though, that for me it could just be scary.

how, though, do I predetermine my reactions?

perhaps, not react. learn to calm the inside and manage from my heart. i have been realizing lately that my working class upbringing is very difficult. it's angry and it's scared and it's dragging me through the mud and it's so hard to defeat, i can't be the measured sweet proactive person that maybe it's easier for middle class people to manage, i'm so close to the edge of not dragging us all through safely that i just want to scream, holler, throw things, and sometimes i do. and i feel like a complete failure as a mom. i feel like i'm doing to them what was done to me. maybe even worse, because i'm my dad and my mom all rolled into one, the darkness and the depression and the addiction, and i feel so guilty and overwhelmed and alone.

i'm not saying i don't try, because i really do. sometimes i can feel proud of who i am. it's just that lately i look at my daughter and i see how much she needs me and i feel numb and incapable.

so there's that.

it's been over a year

I suppose. So much has changed in that time.

Last April I was in San Francisco, dealing with the impacts of the trusteeship. Working my ass off. Fresno hadn't even come down the pike; it was strictly California Pacific Medical Center. Jon and I were struggling to stay together. On the upside, I was in SF. And I had a wonderful sense of purpose.

Now, the sense of purpose remains, but everything else has changed. Jon and I moved to Guam in January. Guam and San Francisco couldn't be more different. Probably the only similarity is the Phillipino population and the fact that I am still organizing. Or at lease attempting to.

Jon is different, happier. I am different, also happier. I guess I'll take a few entries to fill in the gaps. hmm.

i dont suppose

that i will ever live a calm life. at least it doesnt seem like it right now. i'm not given to doing the "right thing," or the "acceptable thing," i do what i think is right and acceptable to me. and i'm not given to feeling guilty, other than when my members guilt me for not completing petty tasks. this ends up creating a fair amount of drama, in my life and the lives of the people around me. i am a walking soap opera.

i suppose that if i just de-drama everything, then it's almost as though these decisions are value-less. they cease to matter. it's like my awkwardness theory-- if you don't think it's dramatic, and you don't engage with other's manifestation of drama, then it can't be drama. just staying centered and calm about everything seems like a better option.

so what am i saying? does it matter if i hurt people, if i don't care about it? what truly matters? what defines the "moral"? what defines "right"? Is it simply a fleeting perception of hurt or righteousness? I'm not sure. Everyone in the world is wandering around with such a similar yet unique set of hurts, affecting the way they percieve how people behave around them. there is almost a pure unreason of it all, an irrationality with which people percieve and judge and get hurt. It almost amounts to a massive clusterfuck-- bound together with the edicts of the overarching institutions of religion and law, projecting a hegemonic idea of morality for us to be righteously indignant about when it's violated.

argh. fuck it if it makes no sense at all.

ok so

i've been pretty trapped in my burnout for a while now, and while i have not really emerged from that burnout at all, i am feeling a strange excitement for fighting this fight today. feelings like this have to be acknowledged, due to their infrequency. really what i want is to not be encased in fear any more, and to have energy and purpose for this struggle. Earlier this week i was almost dying. Maybe because it's saturday I feel better-- or maybe because I have plans to spend time with non-union folks today.

honestly, that always helps.

turns out

that it's true. it's hard to write, but it is so much harder to not write.

the truth

is that i'm broken right now. there's no real reason for it, other than the obvious. perhaps i simply don't have the stamina and commitment anymore. maybe i just can't take the pressure. or i have just gotten old. i don't know. what i do know, is that this past year has made a mess of me, and the last two months have... regressed me. panicked me. squashed me. scared the living shit out of me.

the truth is that i have only been functioning in two modes: WORK and layingarounddoingnothing. either i GET UP EARLY AND GO TO THE HOSPITAL AND STAY THERE ALL DAY AND WORK WORK WORK or i layinmybedwatchingtelevisionreadingbooksmasturbatingdoingnothing. but more and more it's my inclination to do the latter. when i think about going to the hospital each morning all i feel is dread. all i feel is aversion. all i feel is hopelessness.

the truth is that maybe i was never really into my job anyway. or maybe i was just on the edge of being really good and competent and ready to feel good about the whole thing when THE BIG THING HAPPENED and i had to quit and do it for free, this time not just fighting the boss but fighting another union, too. jeez. this has all been a real adrenaline drain.

and through all of those feelings, I LOVE MY MEMBERS. they can be mean and crazy and wierd and i love them. it's hard to keep a handle on all of them, but in the end, they are loyal and loving and mean and crazy and totally committed to this project. i just hope that i can hold on long enough to see them through it.

i am

feeling insane. advice sometimes hangs on decision like weights, dragging them down further into indecisive oblivion. some days happiness seems like my due, and others i am sopping wet with other people's expectations and perceptions.

it's true, i don't know what to do. i don't know if i can do this for the rest of my life. my love is expansive for him, but is it enough? is there enough here to build a working life?

fuck it. don't take advice from people who can't seem to have a successful relationship to save their life.

last night

i had the most interesting dream. in it i was with a family; there was me and the mom and two kids, and i was closely connected to them, i was family too i think. Everyone was brown except for me. we walked up to a gymnastics studio, the children were going to take gymnastics, and after we walked in a very short old man greeted us. it was a dark and calming studio, no artificial light, with plants and open windows and yoga mats, dark wood walls and floor. the children began their gymnastics, but then so did the adults. there was something eerily intimate about the way the adults moved, the instructor moving in tandem, leading them, shouting encouragement and pushing them to be focused and connected. there was something deeply spiritual happening and it made me squirm.

i made an excuse and left. i went to a restaurant and drank beer and ate lots of food. i paid with a credit card that was declined. i returned to the gymnastics studio.

the instructor offered to engage in the movements with me, and I accepted, feeling sheepish. i moved, but not very gracefully, making fun of myself the entire time. the instructor stopped and looked at me. it was clear that i had a choice to make. he pulled out a deck of cards and asked me to choose. i chose a card, and it made me cry. i forget what it said. everyone was quiet while i cried.

i woke up this morning in a rush. my alarm has not been going off, and it upsets my daily workplan when i'm an hour late to the facility. i cursed and rushed to the shower, upset. i looked at myself in the mirror and scolded myself for being so out-of-shape. then i remembered the old man of my dream, and it jolted me. after my shower i dressed and came into the living room, turned on this computer, and looked for a meditation center close to me. it turns out that there is one 3 blocks away. and that the drop-in intro is tonight.

there has to be a dividing line, a defining moment that separates the me of then to the me of now, the me that rushed and criticized and wished and craved, the me that still is, and the me that will bring me to enlightenment in whatever way i am supposed to achieve it. i wonder if a dream could be that for me.

my days now

are full, each of them, with repetitive and unique tasks, each step down the same hallway brings me to that same person, and our conversation each time changes, they move forward and i move forward, they move back and i move back, we together struggle toward a goal that we both are aware of and cage around. i walk away to step down different hallways toward different people that i have had countless conversations with before, we engage in a similar process with unique challenges, and i step away again.

in the end i cannot actually be there with them. i can only hope to somewhat understand, and i am not sure that they know how much i depend on them for everything, how much i admire them for their fortitude, how i never would stand for this for 30+ years in a blue collar job, but then i am reminded that it hasnt been 30 years of this, that with the rise of a corporate economy a more caustic management has overtaken them, i often hear stories of supervisors past who offered aid and advice, not disciplinary actions and disrespect, but here we are in the heart of the beast i suppose.

i wander the halls with my white skin and my long hair and my pretty face and i confront a population of immigrant people of color who have struggled hard just to get here. its an interesting and moving life to lead, being confronted with your privilege constantly, and being compelled to struggle for the rights of less privileged people each day. really, my job is about constant confrontation. fight the boss. fight the boss. fight the boss. fight the boss. fight the boss.

i guess

that my problem is that i have too much to write and i can't get any of it out anymore. the words push hard against my fingertips and clog like so many cars on a narrow san francisco freeway, engines running but getting nowhere fast.

so many metaphors strike me, they all reflect urban themes: streets, cars, buildings, smog, bridges, cables, phonebooths, parking lots, meters, cops, old women trailing rolling groceries, ipods&phones&minigamemachines, busses and munis and subway entrances, fluorescent lights, blue faces unsmiling, staring forward to some unknown destination, hurrying no matter what there is another place to be as soon as possible. smoking dirty people in doorways, empty cups asking for anything, trees poking up lonely out of concrete mouths

what am

I? This year has changed me, turned me almost unrecognizable. Looking into the mirror I find a woman deeply cut, and a woman confronted with change, a woman, finally. No longer a girl, foolishly believing in her righteousness, investing in false senses of good through pleasure and instant gratification.

Practically speaking, I'm not an alcoholic anymore. I'm not the sex addict I was. I'm not looking for that feeling anylonger, partially because my search for it humiliated me in the end.

To be honest, in this new strange phase of commitment, I still miss the one who got all caught up in himself. And the one that pretended that what we had was insignificant. And the freedom to find possibility in any person I came across. I still have that feedom, yes, in some senses, but no longer in the one big romantic way.

Who am I? I remember the brash woman I was when I left Portland. I was a woman on a quest for big things. Looking to fulfill big aspirations. Instead, I found reality in its most gritty and humbling form. Economic, relationship, personal- I've been hit every damn way you could imagine. I hit myself, and I got hit by others.

Along the way, somehow, I managed to find some truth. I found out what love really is. I heard the worst a woman can hear and survived it.

I am here, still. I am more aware than I ever have been before. I am. I suppose for right now that has to be enough.

i just realized

that i am not as nice a person as i want to be. and that I have alienated ppl with my distress.

and mostly, that i want that to change. and that j sees me for the person that i really am-- past the insecurity and elitism.

i feel so

damn irritated with the political people in my life. everyone besides my housemates.

you: STOP BEING SO FUCKING HOLIER THAN THOU. Who the hell gave you the right to shove your righteous fucking self in everyone's face? i'm so fucking unhappy that you are the only political and queer person i have been connected to here. i thought you would do what it took to introduce me to the political scene, but no, you only seem fucking committed to parading your damn politics. over and over again you are condescending and irritating. i wanted to be close to you, but you hold me at arm's length-- and I realize now that most of your friends also do that. I am fucking done. i don't care if you never call me again. i don't care if i never see you again.

you: i feel less vehemently angry at you. you have tried to be helpful and you are never condescending. I just wish you were less successful. That way I wouldn't feel like such a damn failure. Then again, you have been here for five years, and put in the requisite time. argh

and then

he said,
"can i be completely honest?" my stomach jumped, preparing.
"yeah." i responded. "of course."
"i was going to ask you something selfish," he said slowly, the memory of prior harsh words from me likely causing him to weigh his more carefully. i used to be very critical of him. "I was going to ask you to wait for me."
i felt confused. wait for what? while the last weekend without him had been unexpectedly difficult, but he wasn't going anywhere, was he? i became suddenly worried at the possibility. "what do you mean?" i asked.
"i wanted to be selfish. i want you to wait... i want to be the next one."
it hit me what he meant. i was startlingly pleased, and I wanted-- for my own hedonistic pleasure-- for him to spell it out, say it all. "the next one?" i played dumb.
his voice was thick, low timbered with his request. "i want to be the next person you have sex with."
ah. that's what i wanted. i melted. or to be more precise, a certain lovely part of me melted-- both conceptual and physical lovely parts. "of course," i responded. "of course. there's no one else for me right now. you will be the next."

and now

after the telling and the acknowledging i am dreaming of you but not of you--
in my heaven there is a place like that we kept together for that short period of time
and you are there but it is not the you that broke me so completely
it is the you that fit inside me forcefully frightfully
wonderfully

an open letter

to you. not so open in the end, considering that it is directed at those people in my life committed to distance and trepidation in their relationships with me... and finally to you, who is not confused at all, and who hates the distance between us.

first, I suppose, is you; you whom i loved from the beginning, whom i adored like a shining brother, with the exception that i wished to kiss you and hold you close and keep you warm in bed beside me forever. your melancholy impressed me with its depth and conviction, the artistry that flowed from it so thoughtlessly I envied. i was never so genuinely creative, and have not grown into such a person, either. i deeply craved my nights with you, after long train rides to meet your chaste embraces at beachside stations, and afternoons laughing with friends in the ardor and mania of adolescence.

those nights in your bed, our bodies matched in the blankets of flannel and desire, were what i waited for, what i imagined when I lay alone. your hands the soft parts of me, heat from you radiating, penetrating me, my love for you allowing this unspoken violation, hopinghopinghoping that in the morning your attention towards me would have changed, that our public embraces at beachside stations would become less chaste in the context of a shared love...

but years passed and your gaze never shifted. more beautiful women warranted your attentions, my friends in fact, but you never saw me as you saw them. in our young adulthood you found shame in the way you treated me and apologized, yet my adoring attention still allowed you to exploit my desire for your love. you were the beginning of all this, the start of my obsession with the unrequited.

much later you came along. strong jawed and cynical, your figure solid against the wood of the bar, your smile easy and winning; you stood strong at the center of your community, amongst others transcending categories so easily applied. you were powerful, in both personal and actual ways; established, political, respected.

one evening on the wharf with our mutual friends we sat around a table, impressing each other carefully with language and analysis and eye contact, i felt you keenly next to me, watching me. we spoke of our families, shared characteristics between us; politics and friends, and sometimes of sports (which i spurned for its violence yet you loved for its competition). we left the restaurant and you grabbed me, kissed me, held me close to your chest tight with its bindings, your hands firmly on my back is a feeling i will never forget. i ran, you chased me, we insisted on each other.

after two weeks i had ended all other dating endeavors and fallen deep into the well of you. we spent hours and hours in my bedroom on the hill, our harsh and fervent fucking making paper of the rest of the world, easily crumpled and thrown into the corner. i was warm and safe in your embrace, and there i forgot about time, i forgot about my friends, i forgot about work and writing and activism, all i knew was you. i fell in love with you in a way i had never loved before. you, however, did not love me; or perhaps you were not willing to love me.

when you left me it was as if my clothes were taken and burnt, i was left naked and shocked in the scathing truth of your absence. it was not real, it felt as if there was no way it was true, that it was impossible for reality to shift so radically, so decidedly, so quickly. your power and presence in the community made me avoid it, i shunned myself in order to avoid you and the pain the sight of you would bring. I studied the marks you left and quietly decided to never love a woman in the same way again.

now, we come to you. it seemed casual to me, at first, your interest in me both odd and obvious in its strategy, your intoxicated escapades of rhetoric compelling, boring and predicable all at once. it was as if you were both trying to impress me and ignore me in the same interaction, and in this it was as if i had returned to a high school context-- where the boys try to pretend that they have no feelings, and that their affections don't exist, and instead go to extended lengths to disguise their attraction with disinterest, if not outright disdain. funny that your mantra, in the beginning, was "we're all adults here." it contradicted the other statement, which was "i don't want anyone to know," which thrust us-- me, unwilling-- back into that place of adolescent dramatics.

for all that awkward fits-and-starts of ours, however, i began to have feelings for you i didn't expect. in those afternoons on top of covers in both of our rooms, quietly endorsing each other with wrapped arms and covert kisses, marked with extended forays into discussions both deeply personal and deeply political both at once and distinct, amidst statements both careful and rash about our possible future together, our connection became clear to me, at least. you pulled back, after a time, afraid and preoccupied, and still i am compelled toward you and confused by your confusion. i know you want me-- you say it, occasionally, for me to hear and remember, perhaps to make sure i still care, they are easy comments requiring no real commitment on your part-- and that you do not know how to move toward me. in that i cannot remove you from my thoughts, and you plague me. i know you think about me, contemplate our connection, and it infuriates me that you cannot acknowledge it.

here and now there is yet another person, this one carrying a theme of my life with him as he steps through my existence with intention and objective: me, my love and his intertwined, our lives together. he is striving to be my love for the rest of our lives, and presents himself completely; there is no hiding, no trepidation, the complete person, obfuscated only by his own pain and history-- like the rest of us.

well

here i am. weeks later.

i don't really know what i'm doing. I kind-of do, i suppose, but i am less committed to actually being deeply committed to knowing.

i do know that i need to make more money.

i do know that i have to buy a new dress for zack's premiere
and that his movie is ridiculously racist and sexist
and my face will be seen there and it makes me feel crazycrazy

aaarrrgggh

i do know that i'm not going to invest in halfassed, judgemental relationships anymore
and that i'm done being worried about that shit
essentially, i'm done being worried about YOU and YOU

this weekend

i spent most of my time on date-like excursions. it was fun and interesting, also difficult in some ways; i found myself noticing that I was hiding a little in these interactions. i wasn't hiding myself while in them, but from myself in the enacting of them; instead of doing my laundry, budgets and bills, I spent time being romantic with folks in my life. No sex, just connecting; without alcohol I spend much more time thinking about people rather than my lust.

The most consuming interaction of the last three days, however, was definitely my evening with Jon. (my love, my heart) We met in in the Embarcadero in front of the Ferry Building and as he strode toward me I felt my heart lean toward explosion like i couldn't hold it in my chest any longer the way he holds his lower lip between his teeth when he's nervous and swings his arm at his side looking at me out from under his heavy lashes i had forgotten these details and it drove me a little insane

we picked a spot at on the water near some statues that attracted picture taking tourists like flies to honey and we talked about why and how we had come to this predicament, after so many years of dancing around each other and trying to figure it out, after finally being able to be together had i left so unceremoniously, the reasoning, whether there was someone else (there was not), talking crying being there next to each other

when i looked at him it was like i needed to drink him in again, say prayers to the place we had shared, remember that night in the candlelight where i had promised myself to never forget the sanctity of our connection, a promise i so conveniently forgot

what has occurred to me recently is that my alcoholism deserves a large part of the blame. once again sabotaging a close, loving, stable, supportive relationship for alcohol and its social trappings (read: slutty dating and other such rique encounters).

the rest of our evening was more than pleasant, it was comfortable and joyful and really about us. i practiced humility, he practiced asserting himself, we rode the bus and ate sushi and sat at my house with my housemates talking politics of liberation, listening to the coup and all i could think was

this is the life i have been striving for

and this is a person i could choose to love for the rest of my life

yeah

ok. see the following posts to get an idea of what i'm feeling right now:
http://lovelyone.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-cant-handle.html
http://lovelyone.blogspot.com/2006/01/sigh.html

Clearly, I have had a problem the whole time. No one likes a stupid, dramatic drunk. It's time for a real decision, no more talk, no more bullshit.

I really don't want to lose E. I hope that he can forgive me someday. I don't need it to be today, just soon in our lives.

jesus

jon sometimes i miss you so much it feels like i am going to fall apart

yesterday

certain situations revealed my class roots like a bad dye job.

first, i was probably too ebullient at the fundraiser; second, I was probably overdressed for the fundraiser (i LOVE my flashy heels, betch!); third, i suggested that our staff go to a chain restaurant in Florida while we are working on the Amex project (I was rebuked by my ED). Argh. I am feeling a bit sheepish today, for a million reasons, not just those above.

It wasn't until my portland friends arrived that I realized how much of a struggle this transition has been. In particular, this job has infused a sense of an essential fight for survival (read: recognition & respect) into my life that I do not enjoy. I spent some time last night speaking-- a bit intensely, I think-- about how the city requires your attention to basic inequality and that to expect things to come easy here is a self-delusion. I surprised at my vehemence, and was pleased again to have revealed another aspect of my life to look at.

No, I'm not being sarcastic. Self examination is key in personal liberation, right?

i was just struck

by the memory of a scent
the deep lingering loam of a rainy place
dark in the night damp from a day of rain

me safe in that cloying texture of air

sometimes

vulnerability makes me feel sick to my stomach.

i vascillate

between wanting to everything i can to end this fucking depression and wanting to just wallow in it completely, go there with everything i have and see what happens. i have been slowly descending in fits and starts, propelled by a growing understanding of the inevitable and a disaffection with the present

my co-counseling side says LOVE YOUR SELF HATE!!! LOOK AT IT!!! GIVE IT A BIG FUCKING HUG!! THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!! then the practical, wide-world side says --you can't function like this, you can't be a full woman like this, you can't be loved like this, you have to get better before you go to a place you can never get back from, a fat-ugly-hopeless place where you are utterly alone, stupid and self-indulgent.--

well, that's fun, right? i keep thinking i've found the answer, and keep coming back to the same damn feelings. greant.

also

my mother criticized the list i created regarding a partner.

in the spirit of being more grounded and practical, I am looking for a relationship wherein we can:

- live together and create a home that we both enjoy; a place where we both feel comfortable and taken care of, a place where our friends feel welcome, where we can challenge each other in a healthy way
- get in the car/on our bikes and go places together
- laugh at each other's foibles and flaws
- occasionally have a knockdowndragout fight and have great makeup sex/cuddling/mutual affirmation
- get drunk and laugh at each other
- make food for each other, collaborate on whats going to taste the best and how it should be presented, experiment
- go shopping together
- talk about our days when they are done
- read together in bed before we go to sleep and discuss our books
- sleep in the same bed at night, hold each other
- wake up together and have coffee/tea/breakfast, see each other off
- fantasize about our future, our children, our community.

i think that's it.

ok so

in order to be present here today i have to move some things within me-- process a little-- get clearer.

send me your position
getting lonely down here

this is the time in my life that i can use, i can really mine for the artinpain that i have been craving for so long, the reason that i left portland, i'm looking for that struggle that will force me to create art to write to be poetic with my life to see the beauty in the difficulty

i have to end some things and start some things very soon, today in fact. it's time to start believing again, being the fully powerful person that i have grown to be, to exercise my willpower-- i want to reign in my desires run rampant, they are causing suffering i can't manage right now. Can I do the things that truly ground me on a daily basis? I have been looking for satisfaction in pursuing base impulses and finding only fleeting fulfillment. Sex, food, drink, television-- I have always known that I would not find what i needed in those things.

i have to get used

to not being 22 anymore. here i am, five years later, not dating very much, not putting myself out there very much, sitting at home on a saturday night watching ghostbusters. i am eventually going to do my hair. it's going to look good, too, damnit, before pride.

so what does it mean? what does this all mean? I have some sense of failure here-- like I am not living up to my full capacity as a 20something. then again, i need to calm the fuck down and have a good time. i'm not getting any younger...

i am gonna

make it
through this year
if it kills me

what an intense day. i made all these powerful decisions and it all crashed down around me this morning, my carefully constructed castle of self-protection crumbling sadly at my feet. Today I was the subject of a meeting, and no one told me what happened in it. The director of the SF office engaged in her usual subtle undercutting-- walked into the office and barely acknowledged me, sent emails to the staff and ED that suggested we do things that I was clearly unprepared for, talked about me loud enough for me to hear in front of other staff.

Meanwhile, i looked up abuse in the workplace-- and found definitions of "workplace bully" and psychological abuse in the workplace. I am being bullied, and there are no laws to protect me. http://www.bullyinginstitute.org/bbstudies/youknowwhen.html

this realization that i am being abused hit hard. it's kinda like when i realized that what had happened to me was rape. the new understanding that what is going on is ABUSE incurs its own trauma.

it all went downhill from when david and i got in a little spat in the morning and he asked me what was really going on-- NOTHING! i said, lying and knowing it-- and i broke down crying. It all seems like too much, everything these people do, and my tolerance level for being constantly underestimated, undercut and unacknowledged is nonexistent.

The question is: can I use this anger, sadness and depression towards positive ends? Today I have written more than I have any other day in recent history-- wonderful. More blog entries than ever in an attempt to blow off this steam, figure out my struggle. For the first time in my life I am distinctly not enjoying my depression-- i'm unsure why. it seems particularly difficult.

my coworker jamie

told me to never try to go to bed after 11pm. I remember her caution but pay little attention.

i had a great session today. really, all sessions are great right now. my mind was occupied with a few overarching themes: hopelessness, loneliness, fear. The last week or so I have been blessed with a change of direction in these thought patterns; I made a decision that work will not depress me, that it has no control over me, and that I do not want to be in a relationship right now. Dating, sure, relationship, no. There is too much desperation there for me. I do not want to be in a relationship because it is the "least awful alternative," I want to choose a person as a primary partner who embodies characteristics I value and lives a life I admire while encouraging me to live the fullest life possible. (Just to be fair, Laura and David do this for me. Lucky me.)

I suppose it is a worthwhile effort to list what I think these characteristics might be. My next long term, primary relationship will be with a person who is:
- Deeply compassionate and forgiving of self and others
- Political and committed to building the movement
- Committed to self reflection and in turn, radical self transformation on a regular basis
- Absolutely adoring of me and supportive
- Able to see where I struggle and offer help
- Able to notice when they are struggling and ask for help
- Generally knowledgable of their material and patterns, able to acknowledge those things to me
- Engaged in a self help process
- Engaged in community that is intergenerational, multicultural, multiclassed, multigendered
- Living in the Bay Area
- Self-sufficient, emotionally and financially
- Socially adept
- Surrounded by supportive friends and family
- Terrifically crass and inappropriate in the most fun ways
- Adventurous, physical
- Sexy and adventurous in the bedroom-- ostensibly a top
- Bike rider
- Book lover, intellectual

I have to say that politically and personally i do not believe that I am alone, persay; these structures of disconnection are strictly products of a society divided by oppression and capitalism. It makes sense, then, that in this first post-college phase wherein I have re-entered capitalism-- like sudden cold-water immersion-- i would be shocked and pissed at what I found here. And that I would seek a person to contradict my sense of abandonment and isolation.

I do not want to move forward with dating in a state of desperation. Instead, I am looking closely at my life and where I can decide to be more fulfilled and self-actualized.

Have I mentioned that I love my bike? I should have, because I do. :)

there are a few

things that need to be written about. I will put them under separate headings to represent them distinctly.

on mondays its

depression, on fridays its elation... is this the way of the working world?

the great thing about today is that I am feeling much more excited about building community and putting myself out there. Unfortunately, I have not been laying the groundwork for success in that area... and of all people, I know that it takes consistent attention to build a solid community of folks that will come out and play and support you when you need it.

Let's see if I can pull it out tonight. Good thing I am also good at not beating myself up if things don't go exactly my way.

all my love...

i think

i may have to start a different blog for my political material... because i actually want people to read it.

regardless.

a working class rant:
today as i walked to my high rise office building in the embarcadero district of san francisco, surrounded by the bay itself, views of oakland and the bay bridge, expensive places to buy food and fancy florists I passed charles schwab windows emblazoned with the clever slogans of their campaigns focused on getting everyday folks to invest their money in something with charles schwab

one of these slogans reads "planning for your retirement? or hoping to?"

everytime I see that fucking slogan i think about my father. yes, he was downwardly mobile; yes, he is self-employed; yes, he hates bosses and taxes and you, if you cut in line. my daddy was hoping to plan for his retirement, but that's not how things went. instead, a series of events determined our descent from the working class to the poor, where desperation became a member of the family.

it started when a roof he repaired in palm springs leaked when it rained, of all the ironic things, and they sued the pants off of him; his truck full of tools was stolen; an economic crash leveled the real estate economy, which made work extremely difficult to find for a self-employed residential remodeler. Daddy has always, on top of these new circumstances, systematically and unabashedly undervalued his carpentry. We lost our house and almost everything we owned and moved in with his new girlfriend and my to-be forever stepmother, Alyce. Now he owns nothing, has nothing, lives from job to job, check to check.

He is 60 now. After 40+ years of heavy manual labor, not to mention a few good bone-breaking and back-snapping beatings over the course of his exciting life, his body feels every movement and shift. still and yet he shoulders rolls of tar papers and stepladders up to second and third story roofs through creaky hips and achy knees.

daddy, why don't you hire some folks and just be the head contractor guy? you're too skilled and too old to be doing this shit anymore.

i don't want to stop working. i love working, audrey. working defines me as a man, its my art. i can't imagine my life without work. i'm gonna work until i die. that's what i want to do. you're gonna have to get used to that. anyway, i can't trust anyone to produce the quality of work that i do for my clients.

but daddy, you're just going to die sooner if you do that. and that's not fair to me or zack or jay.

it's my life. i will do with it what i want. if i don't want to live without working then you should respect that. anyway, what would i do for money?

zack and jay and i would figure that out, papa. just because it's hard to think about not working doesn't mean you should do it til you die, for fuck's sake.

i don't know, babe.

Subtext: I don't have any money, i'm afraid to be a burden on my kids, and i have no idea what i would do with my time if i didn't work so hard everyday that I was exhausted.

What would you do, charles schwab? are you gonna take money that doesn't exist because of the machinations of a manipulated economy and destructive patriarchy and invest it in a market that systematically exploits people like my father? no. you'll just make it seem like its accessible, promote the possibility... and bring up feelings of resentment each day as I walk to work.

i have never

felt this consistently sad. i thought i could defeat it by riding in this morning, but i still feel the weight of a simple, consistent sadness, regardless of the adrenaline encouraged by speeding through downtown on my bicycle. it's not a depression, it is almost like a constant reality check, calling me to notice the seedy and exploitive nature of life over the glorious and joyful aspects i had become so accustomed to.

there are many differences, i suppose, in the way my life was and the way my life has manifested currently. my community is far less cohesive; i am older, and noticing it; i do not love what i am doing; i am not organizing; i am not really dating; i am not getting as many sessions. while it is true that I am making steps to change these things (very actively pursuing other jobs, emailing orgs to volunteer with them, hanging out with awesome folks and investing in longterm relationships, getting sessions on my feelings about dating and abandonment) i am still struggling with the decision to realize my joy as a human being in the world. Anxiety is my contemporary bedfellow.

In the aims of being more intentional in addressing my current selfhate and other outcroppings of negativity, below i list the aspects of my life and myself that i love right now:
- my housemates
- david
- amy
- kate
- laura
- my new sf friends: amy, sarah, eric, nicole, mikael, angela, susie, benny boy, amaris, bre, and many more
- my new sf co-counselors: syd, jim, adam, mark, kristen
- the opportunities that are presenting themselves, aka, the unions and other organizing opportunities
- my commitment to getting involved in prison abolishment/addressing the criminal justice system
- how i notice my own restimulation and pay attention to how that effects me and my relationships; how I pursue my own healing, even in the smallest ways.
- my neighborhood, my local coffeeshop, my local bars, the grocery stores, the culture, the food, the transportation
- riding my bike up hills
- riding my bike down hills
- cuddling with friends new and old; revealing myself in my developing relationships
- talking on the phone with laura
- living near golden gate park
- my back porch
- getting my finances in order...

argh. with every one of these there seems to be a corresponding negative aspect that drags it all down. I do want to even out and be committed to joy and happiness in my life. i feel afraid sometimes that all of this is what life really is, sad and lonely and overwhelming with a downhill trajectory...

what the fuck

is up with these ups and downs? Yesterday, everything was golden, life was good, i was on the fast track to new and different things in my life. Today it feels as though I am carrying a load of bricks.

Ah, I see. Yesterday I wasn't at work. Today I was there all day. There must be some correllation. Yuck-eeee.

well

we finally did it. we signed the papers, the four of us, soon to be seven-- taking action so many months later, but action that I feel necessary, even now.

what am i looking for? achieving greatness- whatever that may mean, and in my context it means several things:
- ending oppression;
- building a sustainable movement for liberation;
- building close and loving relationships with the people in my life;
- building a diverse community around me;
- consistently being reflective about my internalized processes that continue to victimize me and oppress people around me;
- educating myself constantly about the state of the world and those in it, especially the effects of the imperialist force i live within and my complicity in that imperialism;
- loving completely every person i come into contact with throughout each moment of my day while remaining strong and advocating for myself.

I will achieve my goals; Tia once put in a card to me, for some occasion, that she was confident that I would "never lead a mediocre life." I hope that she is correct, and honestly, i am striving to prove that she is. Perhaps it is almost that expectation that drives me to fulfill it. How awful to have had such a shiny future predicted for you and end up toothless in a trailer park with only cigarettes and vodka to accompany your tragedy.

There are so many decisions I need to make right now, and directions I could push. Each one has a different outcome, and I am having a hard time thinking strategically about this; I can plan a campaign, but i have a hard time predicting the most fruitful/liberating/revolutionary set of moves for my life. This chessgame is far more complicated, and there is so much more at stake.

Here i am, at the crossroads.

is the answer

to just mess around with people who are completely uninteresting and not attractive?

I can beat this. My new goal: achieving greatness for myself, whatever that means for me right now... living for me.

horrible news

during a nice long session yesterday my very pleasant counselor suggested that it was more important for me to work on the abandonment issues incurred by my mother than to be in a relationship-- and that I should prioritize the former over the latter.

I think he suggested that I could have sex, but that a relationship would be too much for me right now. and interestingly enough, the dude is correct. I can't see my way through my abandonment issues right now- and need some time and space from any committed romantic entanglement. I'm simply not sure if i can have sex in this state- because i'm tired of disconnected sex, and anything tender and vulnerable triggers the hell outta me right now. argh.

Well, i suppose knowing is part of the battle, at least.

i realized

that really what is important to me is that i not become embroiled in another co-dependent situation. I love my life and want to focus on my career and myself- and be committed to my personal and political growth. I notice that I have a tendency to think obsessively about lovers, possible lovers, relationships, possible relationships-- I really would rather not, thanks. Especially during weeks like this, where i have high stakes deadlines to attend to.

I figure-- if I devote that time spent thinking about love/relationships/lovers to liberation and political thinking/work, then I would be one damn together woman. Sounds great, huh? I have to implement some kate strategies: only see folks once/month, other sorts of things...

I have to get involved in prison abolishment. now.

i forgot

how much i love that skin on skin interaction
tenderness pleasant and rejuvenating
deciding to be intimate regardless of familiarity
is a deeply connecting decision

i had great fun

and the more wonderful thing is that i am not feeling desperate or overwhelmed with emotion/need/etc., i enjoyed the sex, being in bed all morning, bike riding, eating together, connecting at the park

and although it seems like more would be fun
i have no deep seated need or expectation for more

which, if you have seen my machinations and flailings listed so vulnerably below
is a great relief for me.

There is another aspect of this, however--
I have been relatively laissez-faire in regards to whom I date/spend time with/get into relationships with in the past; it seems more important now to be discerning, and date folks with whom it seems reasonable/feasible to be in a possible lifelong partnership. Babytime might be nearing and stability looks more appealing. If i am going to start dating then I am dating with an actual objective. Different than before, indeed. Very different.

you know

that i imagine you so often now that you have become almost like a ghost beside me, memories of you always present

you standing in front of me, sweatshirt hood over your shaved head, brooding over your mail in our old kitchen where the sun came in through so many open windows, your soft fingers finding the edges of envelopes just like they find those spots on my body that scream for you, i can imagine the softness of that sweatshirt against my face as we leaned against each other just because we're in love

you looking at the road through the windshield of that red jeep, your profile solid against the background of the moving scenery, our hands entwined as we travelled toward the grocery store running innocuous errands, planning meals because it was fun to think about what to eat together in our shared living room

my hands against your bare chest as we lay in bed

debating heatedly radical race & gender politics

you over me, my hands on your face as i breathe your name

me crying as fear courses through me, a possible interaction with the pigs rattling me, the stress of maintaining our home crashing down on me, your mother screaming at me, your back as you walk out the door, apologetic eyes pleading with me, acknowledging me, loving me even in your anger

i didn't know that i was so in love

and now i can't express my longing enough

today is the day

i start something. that i move forward. today is the day that i decide that i love writing again, that i commit to writing again, that now is the day for the final decision, that i finally write it, that book about me that makes no sense and all the sense in the world all the sense for moving forward that I need right now

if i am going to read i have to read for something, for writing, for talk, for connecting with others who are thinking about it too. without the expression of this bottled up something it is becoming a dead lead weight in me draining me drowning me unexpectedly

i never did expect to feel this way, going numb, feeling dumb, feeling abandoned.

i don't know

what to do with jealousy. i don't understand it, it is destructive, both to the immediate relationship and those surrounding. so unfortunate that we have internalized capitalism so as to destroy ourselves with sentiments of ownership over others, imbued with the same desperation with which we hunger after material goods

only magnified by one thousand

remember

scamming? for those of us born in the early 80's and subject to the grunge era in our adolescence, scamming was tight, scandalous, sexy, fun. Tantalizing. Illicit. Tacitly heterosexual-- I would never describe any of my early sexual explorations with other girls as scamming. Exploitive, particularly on the part of the boys, whose focus on scamming was more vehement, focused, insistent than the girls.

For us young ladies, it was this strange invasion; both welcome and reviled, exciting and disgusting; that hardened part of a boy rubbing up against a your leg, or even more fascinating, against that part of you suddenly softened by an unfamiliar heat. I have a comical and slightly frightening memory of being at Josh's house with my friend Melissa when I was 13. Melissa and Josh were "going out," and were sleeping together-- she was 13 and very physically developed, he was 17 and a traditionally immature teenage dude.

It was a summer day, bright and hot in the little Los Angeles suburb where I was raised. We had walked to Josh's from Melissa's, a good three mile trek. She disappeared into his bedroom after we drank beer on the front deck and smoked joints in the living room of Josh's and his little brother's house. Josh's room was furnished with a bunkbed and mismatched comforters. Imagine having sex in a bunkbed. It was probably more comfortable at 13 than it would be at 27.

His little brother was seedy and crass in that gross, desperate teenage way; a dirty little 'stache, messy jeans and hair, red rimmed stoner eyes. He was a boy to avoid, as evidenced by his name-- it was danny, or johnny, something -nny, a diminutive version of his given name, and he was a smaller, less attractive version of his brother Josh. That day he was set on getting at me- from the minute Melissa and I arrived he was working whatever he could to touch me, handle me, kiss me, fondle me.

Something we knew that we should be defending against while also inviting it; that was the only respectable way to go. If one went to far when scamming it could turn against you, your reputation wasn't exactly ruined in that 50's sense, but you were making yourself vulnerable to the pushy expectations of too many young, overzealous teenage boys. That's what Melissa had to fend off, and I was not going to open up that box.

what i think about

before i fall asleep, the things that keep me awake, the things that haunt me

- jp and the impact his presence and absence has made, the ensuing self hate, etc., including how shitty i feel about him now-- and how shitty that fact makes me feel. Fuck.
- the 600+ i owe psu
- my cc debt of 5000 and my school debt of 30,000. omg that seems HUGE sometimes...
- how i am nearly goddamned 27 and still a goddamned assistant
- that I am aging and falling and i am not taking care of my body-- i consistently overeat and damned if I am gonna get cuter, it's all downhill from here and it feels like i'm not doing enough about it...
- i never write anymore and it is fucking KILLING ME. I don't even have a place to write. I am tempted to become a goddamned junkie or methhead again so that I can find some sort of painfully motivated place-- I need SOMETHING, goddamnit, it seems that my emotional pain isn't fucking enough anymore
- my detachment from my brothers
- my lack of spiritual practice. that leaves me empty and wanting, reminds me of a time when I would meditate for calm and energy, meditate constantly-- it was a good period.

What the hell do I need? I am working on letting go of jp-- and his shit-- and allowing that connection to be in the past. Forever. Sadly, but completely, I hope.

I need to be ok with my debt, because it isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

My body needs exercise and attention, and I can give it both things in plenty-- I will just institute a regimen and stick to it, and remember what to eat. And what not to eat. Eating for total health is my new goal-- and not overeating; allowing myself to get hungry and eating to sate that hunger, not to forget or anaesthetize.

I can have the will to write, and I MAKE THE DECISION NOW to do it daily. If it is just a page in my diary, so be it-- I can extend that to a million other places, particularly if I prioritize it.

Meditation is not that hard. Starting tomorrow, I will sit for 5 minutes in the morning and 5 in the eve. When I feel stressed or overtired, I will find a place to do some fire breathing during the day, as well.

Argh. I want to change my life, starting NOW. Here are some of my intentions-- easily accessible as reminders.

yeah

so

thanks, i suppose. um. i am learning a lesson here-- what have I done to other people? i wonder.

and

i'm not going to moon over you any longer-- I will continue to love you as a person, and I will not continue to wait for you to love me. I can't wait for you to love yourself.

You are ambitious, creative, compassionate, interesting, intellectual, hilarious, challenging... which is why it is so hard to say goodbye. We are both these things, and we met in a beautiful space between us, a sacred and loving space where two spirits intertwined

i'm sorry you weren't ready for me, darling.

it makes me completely sad

that i have to truly say goodbye to you. I never expected you to drop off, to stop connecting completely-- and damn, my heart has more broken under the prospect of your turning away absolutely from our connection than it ever did to stop dating you.

I am struggling to internalize that it is not my fault that you are behaving this way. It is not me, my body, my face, my intelligence; being ignored by you, however, is one of the most painful things that has happened in my life... for a while. And it just continues to ache. And I just continue to blame myself and see an ugly person in the mirror

a person who didn't deserve you

and it makes me hate us

i can't handle

myself sometimes. i got hit in the eye. i don't want to talk to anyone. i want to lay in my bed and be nothing and nobody and pretend that nothing happened that was STUPID last night, like me processing way too much and sending stupid texts and being a fucking asshole.

I DRINK LIKE AN ASSHOLE

CANT HANDLE IT ANYMORE

hello

me. i've been all over, emotionally. lately. yeah. hi, everyone, i'm getting better. i'm coming back, and i never expected to be taken so, so far away...

hello, me.

my daddy always said

that we have the control over the way we feel about things and events in our lives; I have been feeling particularly out of control lately, and not in a positive way.

I am making the decision today to be happy about my job, to be content with my singularity and happy for the people I care about in my life. I want to interact with every person with acceptance, dignity and care. I believe in myself, and today will be an example of this.

and though i continue to notice your absence i am relieved to have decided that this thing is in your hands, as i will pursue my own liberation

plenty capable hands they are

my god

where am i going and what am i doing

you haunt me and i want it to stop i let tonight go and i am both dying and thanking myself

is this what life is? i feel like i am going to go numb, lose all feeling soon, and my body and mind are struggling to maintain sensation, so i am just stuck in feelings and hurt and anxiety and passion and excitement and selfloathing and

all of it

where can i go for help? It feels like i am lost and loose and i have not felt so untethered in years. Portland was my cradle, I was bundled there, and here...

Do i need help? or is everything fine? am i looking for that frantic pace that I felt in college and simply adjusting? is the absence of you- and you- and you- and you- finally beginning to take its toll?

two faces haunt me. neither passed, simply gone from my life in any substantial fashion. both leave deep wounds, one less expected than the other.

i thought that three months would be enough. Where I am now, however, if at all an indicator for almost 1/3 of the way there, I am nowhere near bandaged enough to stop bleeding all over the people around me. I don't even feel presentable at a bar, in a restaurant, i feel young and stupid and too sincere for my own damn good

you know what is

totally strange?

that i love spending time with you. that when i'm with you, i am content. a little discontent, because i want so much of you. the amount of you that i became accustomed to in that short period of time. the total of you that pulled me irresistably toward you, regardless of my intentions.

and now it is difficult to settle for any less. all i want is you. i want more than you can give. i want to give you more than i should


blend shift move change into two one

but damn

i am fucking scared that you
- are lying to me
- don't really care about me
- really, that you are lying to me.

please don't be doing those things. please. just fucking tell me. the problem here is, i suppose, that i really don't know you. i have no idea what you might do. ugh.

but damn

you really seem like an upstanding person. this is a challenge, because usually i trust people-- and you make me damn nervous and i want to fucking trust you. damn fucking nervous

i would

paint your portrait over everything mundane

you are settling in like sand on a river bottom
so accustomed to travel i am that your presence seems alien
i expect your apprehension
your doubt and fear and the running
not security and care
and honesty

where did you come from?
escaping from the woodwork the wallpaper of my life
you exclaim that you are here

blowing a ragged hole in my carefully tended facade

the ups and downs of

this are extreme. but i guess i asked for it.

sigh.

i used to

think that feelings like this needed to go away, leave, never to be felt again.

i realized today that this fear is meant to reveal something to me. i have been running from fear in relationships because i am deeply afraid of being vulnerable. so now i get to feel my fear, and get all sorts of triggered about prior feelings like this in other relationships, and work on all of it. what an opportunity, right? i'm actually feeling good about it.

yay for me. never could have figured that one out on my own. sigh.

WALK THE PLANK

i mean, i enjoy dating and all, but I only enjoy it under certain conditions. i.e., when I am in control; when i feel more relaxed; when i can get lots and lots of support; when it is goddamned convenient. I hate/love dating. All in one breath and moment.

jeanette winterson, _written on the body_: FALL IN LOVE is like WALK THE PLANK. i want to avoid this feeling at all costs. i am deathly afraid of the pain, the rejection, the consequences, for all of my rhetoric about hurt being an unavoidable and necessary part of life. My brain believes my rhetoric, don't get me wrong, but my body still wants to run far far away, too far to be touched or affected

afflicted

what i am saying, folks, is that i am scared shitless right now.

fuck

sometimes i truly hate myself. i set myself up for these falls and i hate it that i regress into patterns I truly dislike and feelings I avoid and man...

i can't help but think. and the thinking is difficult. there is no sign or reason-- only thought.

relax into myself. do what you love. live your strong life. do not run from hurt.

ok now

whoa. i'm not sure I anticipated the feelings that I am experiencing.



i really did, i loved him as well as I could. and i miss him more than words can express right now. for my graduation at the beach j showed himself in a way he hadn't before and i was blessed with his honest smile radiating from his eyes through his skin like he really meant it and we joked about our engagement photos

one like this we were to use on the announcement

and we talked ridiculousness: where our girls would go to school, what instruments they might play, if we should go to Guam to raise them, how i might fare there, what I would have to prepare for, how we would keep getting support for our emotional selves there... so much more. how he would start teaching if i got pregnant then and i contemplated trying so that we could just settle in to being together and start a life and maybe he would step up if i carried his child

in my dream there were two girls; one with lighter hair, the taller one, and one with darker standing and waving to j and i as we walked away they stood in front of palm trees hair blowing in the wind

i assumed they were ours and i miss the idea of them too

i absolutely

tried to write the other day and my post was somehow lost in the ether of the internet

i am feeling lost as well, so perhaps it is appropriate that my forlorn prose lose its footing. regardless. my life is not so bad. i have a home, some money, people around me who seem to value aspects of me. yet i feel unrooted, my stays have come loose, i think of my previous home and simple things like lighting and snow and loud housemates downstairs and meditating and loving and feeling safe and cared for and never alone, and if alone marginally temporarily so

and now i seem to be both seeking it and running from it. here i am. people come towards me, want things from me again, yet it is not close and fulfilling, it is empty and false as i am less clear

i feel humiliated, scared, tokenised, fetishized, animated smiling accomodating flesh to stay another person's fear fill needs left unmet through no concious fault of their own

i want t, l, r, s, n, even k, d.m., my mom. i want my community. i want cherry. i want safety, sobriety, i want my jonny, i miss his hands and face and our fights and making up and loving each other and dreaming of family and the islands and our little girls

something seems to have wilted inside a bit

it is time

for bed, yet here i am.

i am so concerned that I will disappoint myself in the task ahead. feeling a little down about it, i suppose- right now, it seems that everything is so vibrant and alive around me. Spring rises from the ground and blooms in the air, the sunshine turning whiter in the sky and through my windows streaming, illuminating things i hadn't really seen since summer turned its back

the arms of a new lover wrapping vinelike around my body, holding me together, my lungs screaming for boundaries right now

i've been breathing all too hard, looking for oxygen that's been here all the while i've been turning blue

i am willing

to give, and allow for others to do exactly what they need to do, and not take it personally. i get a little afraid that I won't get anything I need in return, that I will somehow continue unacknowledged, but in the end- whose endorsement am I looking for? the other woman's? When really i just need the my girl to see me, not anyone else she's dating.

how much

of anything we do is natural? is part of who we are as human beings? Are we meant to sit around and do nothing, on our asses? is laziness a part of our makeup? For that matter, is industry? Is tireless work part of our human nature?

i think i might be feeling depressed. or something. i haven't been getting very many sessions, and i am relatively uninterested in hanging out with my friends. Or maybe its that I can't right now.

never again

will i ever own a television. ever. ever again. i fucking hate that life sucking thing and i hate my addiction to it. days like this when i feel so fucking broke down i just cant say no and goddamn i hate it.

it has been a while

and so much has been happening, it is almost driving me crazy... but of course it is a deep feeling of fear that has brought me back to my oh so lovely blog. I always write when i'm feeling afraid or overwhelmed, it seems.

And it is my internalized sexism/patriarchy again that has me reeling. I am dating a wonderful woman who I am totally into, and I went on a date with a friend of mine (a dude.) It was fine, but it doesn't seem like he wants to hang out like that again- and for some reason, I have that deep feeling of fear. That rejection feeling.

This time, however, I would like to savor it instead of hating it. I want to really notice it and give it some time instead of worry about it and feel like shit. Rejection is not such a big deal, at all; it seems to happen almost everyday in many of our lives. Sometimes people just have to say no, based on their own needs and trajectories.

It feels particularly awful, however, to be rejected by a man; something about my survival stuff comes in strong. Really, I have no need to be wanted by S. I don't really have a lot of time to give him. My time is taken up a lot with mer and my friends/family and school... so I should have backed off anyway.

See? Chastizing myself without any reason. Sigh. Time to end the cycle of bullshit, eh? I am completely powerful AND hot no matter what.

yeah.

this is the feeling

that i despise. that worry that i will be cast off, abandoned. I hate liking someone, i really do, it makes me crazy and i don't want to be left

and i don't want to call her. i have this habit of calling when i feel this crazy, and i have to remember what i really want and what's going on; even if she does decide that this is not for her I am ok, and my trajectory continues on its inorexable path. and we will be friends.

if i hate this feeling, why am i feeling it? i am gonna let this one go. right now.

off to the showers.

sometimes i don't know

the answer to that question. am i gay? if the definition of gay is: preference of sexual relationships/love relationships with folks of the same sex, then I am gay. I am gay and I have male lovers, but i prefer the attentions and day-in-day-out of women. I love making love to women, and i adore that period after sex, even with a casual lover, where you connect and cuddle and care for each other. love it. i hate disconnected, fuck-you-like-a-hole-in-the-mattress sort of sex, and how they collapse afterwards while you wonder when the fuck you're gonna get yours.

I don't want to be jaded, but i'm sorry boys, the general rule is that you fuck me as if i'm not there. Sometimes there are exceptions, but even my best boys have done/do that. The general rule with women is that they stay in the room and are excited to have you there too.

I want to be making love to someone, i'm tired of disconnected fucking, even with casual lovers.

for now.

today i am

overstimulated. way too titillated. I am having an extremely difficult time focusing on anything; all I can think about is sex, all i can feel is the slight buzz reverberating through my body. It doesn't help that i keep looking at her friendster page... at all.
goddamnit. i have plenty to do without this preoccupation. I don't think i've been this overwhelmed, physically, in a long time.
I guess i'll go home and work out. perhaps that will help. if i'm lucky.

i am so

wound up I can hardly sit in this chair. I know I have schoolwork to do, and I can't do it yet because I don't have my books; I have writing to do but, again, i'm all wound up. Why, you ask? Well, that would be just a little *too* much to post here right now, my pretty friends.

but of course it has to do with my getting laid.

i am not

very used to delayed gratification. this must be one of the lessons i was meant to learn here...

shit. er.

i went

to the meeting, and sat there *almost* crying the whole time; it was strange to be in a self-help environment without the explicit permission to cry as much as i wanted or needed to.

it's true, people there are very accepting, and there was something overwhelmingly-ridiculously-surprisingly freeing about being in a room with lots of folks who have had similar life experiences and declaring myself. I cried then. I made _the_ decision. For today. I feel fear & anxiety about the possibility of looking crazy and losing people, while i feel powerful in this decision that I believe will be the best for me; it's the next step in my personal liberation. I believe that.

i did this, i made this mess, and i've picked myself up and decided to move the fuck on into a different future for myself. shit.

sigh.

i've really fucked this one up. i'm feeling so frikin shitty about my stupidass behavior that i kinda wanna just stay in my room forever. obviously, the situation would not be helped by my self hate, however, and I have to work to make this better- in whatever way she wants me to. i am feeling: ultra embarrassed, overwhelmed, guilty, and more than anything I am feeling shocked at myself and disappointed in how I lost control of that damaging thing that's had me in its clutches before--- the drink. so here i go, launching on another period of sobriety and self-reflection, hoping to regain my hold on myself. i guess i'm always gonna struggle with this.

i'm so lucky to have friends that are willing to call me out and require my accountability; and I have faith in my community to always kick me back into line. I promise, however, that they won't always have to. i promise. i'm so sorry. not that it helps any.

you know what sucks even more? i hate the feeling that r might have always been right about me, and everytime i do something stupid like this that old feeling comes back and I hear his remonstrations regarding my behaviors. i want those messages out of my head- i really don't think they help me any.

well i've

gone and been an asshole again. the drinking has become a problem, just this past week or so. Since new years. Since amy and i went to little tokyo. So, now, I have to decide not to drink again. Sigh. I can do a month- and I want to. I'm sorry, k, for being so insensitive.
I'm not a very good drunk anymore. This whole "general moderation" thing has made it difficult to be a good heavy drinker. Maybe I was never very good at it, though, and i'm just mature enough to notice how stupid I am now.

something has

changed. i feel differently about where i am and what I am doing. i told them on our last morning together that my heart had shifted from pdx to sfc; i am looking with all too much bated breath for my future away from portland. i am plagued: what if its not what we want it to be? what if those four days together was some blessed pocket of time, destined to be just that- an isolated incident? then I calm myself; the love i feel from and for them is deep, has an identifiable history marked by trial and triumph. that history and committment makes our collective and individual connections more than fleeting experiences. right?
hey, guys? i am missing the crap out of you right now.

okay, today

is not a day wherein i should be interacting with human beings. irritation is riding high. stress, stress, stress- impacting me right now. on top of that, i am feeling ultra triggered by my male housemate. i can't tolerate anything that even looks like home neglect from him right now- all of my frustration with s & n's inactivity around the house is combining with my general frustration with his non-involvement to create a giant, ulcerous pimple of frustration. I just want to stay in my room, the one place that I can control right now, the one place where I am the only one to fuck it up and when i clean it it stays clean.

I want some understanding around the fact i'm in finals. last night i felt like i could tolerate anything and everything-- but today i am feeling overwhelmed. sigh. i still work, i still go to school, i'm still doing everything. whatever. whatever. whatever.

this is the life i chose, the place i choose, and the people i choose. that is the ultimate truth, whether or not jon decides to put away his goddamned dinner stuff or not. goddamn. goddamn. goddamn. goddamn.

no really

i hate the television. and i hate what our society does to people. i hate what the television does to me. we have EVERY CHANNEL you can think of! and it is fucking insane. i really want to get it out of my life. ack ack ack
i think watching television makes me think i'm fat
and i think constantly about how i need to lose weight/get a flat belly/etc.
shit. again: i want to be healthy for me. not for anyone else. i ride my bike, i work on my body, i eat healthy food and my body is an amazing tool for the full living of this life. yeh. fuck a whole lotta sitting around watching some shitty teevee.

in other news. finals week. i'm reading a lot, which is great for me. j just got back from breitenbush; his energy reminds me of how I want to live- always in awe, always open, always loving. i'm going to the woods this coming weekend, and i'm super excited for it. i miss nature. i will miss her a lot more when i move, so i want to get as much of it as i possibly can.
i have to stop helping s with her diet stuff- i want her to be healthy too much. she's drinking a soda and its super not good for her belly, and i don't want to be so disappointed. too much investment. and i think it pisses n off, to have me involved like this.
ALSO--- news flash!!! I think i'm doing really frickin well with the "no relationship" thing. I don't even want to go near it. i do have a crush, I may ask her out. i hope she saw my friendster photo and caption- "i won't be your girlfriend." because i simply will.not.be.anyones.girlfriend.rite.now.

i revise my

"want" list. Yesterday I heard the most depressing comment from the lips of a woman that I thought understood. Fact: I've been poly for a long time, both during and outside of long term relationships. Fact: just recently I've decided to not be in a relationship. Fact: I wanted to be in a relationship with you that would have lasted over a year, before I left for grad school. Being poly had nothing to do with protecting myself from a longer relationship. That comment was similar an exchange like this:
Man: Good thing you're gay; it protects you from having to be in a _REAL_ relationship.
Woman: Um.
Oh well. This is why i'm not trying to do anything with anyone. I'm tired of this shit.
Back to paper-writing.

what the fuch

am i doing? it feels like I don't know anymore. Here I sit, wasting my time and life----- doing what? Today I watched tv for 3 hours. I have finals next week, a paper due tomorrow, and I don't know why the fuck I'm not working on this shit.
so i go upstairs after a shower, and start fucking around online. the poly listserv is fucked, its supposed to snow tomorrow, and no new emails from d or b. hence, i look at this page. check it out if you want. www.writeaprisoner.com

"I've been buried beneath this cold concrete and iron steel since 1991 and over the years I've been pretty much forgotten about by both family and friends. I have however managed to maintain a positive attitude, sense of humor, and a strong spirit through it all. Sitting in this desolate cage day after day, I do realize that I've made some mistakes and bad choices along the way that put me here today. But this is life and we all make mistakes because we're only human. What's important is that we don't pass judgment on the next person, but treat each other as you wish to be treated. I feel that even though four walls imprison my body, I still have a lot to offer mentally and emotionally. I'm a very down to earth person; understanding, open mined and a great sense of humor."

spending the rest of his life in prison. california, three strikes. so many of these men are spending the rest of their lives in prison, and many more than that are serving such extraordinarily long sentences that it shocks the crap outta me. Ten years for possession, fraud. Monstrous sentences. Life-ending sentences. People wonder why recidivism is such a problem.

i'm gonna go write a paper. i'm going to remember how glad i am that the cops never caught me. i'm gonna keep these people who have been "forgotten by both friends and family" in my thoughts, even though I don't know exactly what to do about it.

i don't want

a new gf. i want the old one back. that would be much easier and more fun that dealing with a whole new deal. today i almost accidentally came out to my family. "my ex's kid..." caught myself in time. i'm not ready, particularly with the stress cases that make up my familial circle.

something

that annoys the crap out of me: folks who have a hard time taking responsibility for their indiscretions. No big deal, most of the time; however, when it is a w.m. grabbing the reigns of his entitlement and riding off into the sunset it makes me want to puke. Oh, so you think you have the right to leave me hanging at work like this? And when I mention it you're gonna act like i'm being crazy? I WILL KILL YOU. Don't underestimate my craziness, you motherfucker. I won't report you to our boss but I will _NOT_ allow you to act like that. Think again.

i want

to turn this thing off, really. turn the whole relationship thing off. i just wanna live my life. i hate seeing attractive people and thinking about the possibility of some sordid tryst or whatever. I don't want to be sex neg, obviously, i just want my brain to stop tormenting me.

y'know

i don't want to love him anymore. fuck. i want to be done. i want to be free of this. i don't want to care that he's with someone else. if he wasn't with anyone, i probably wouldnt have these shitty feelings. living with her. in our house. shit.

i think thats not the whole of it, though... i am making a decision to not be with anyone right now, to be happy by myself, to work on myself physically/emotionally/artistically- to develop the entire me, the wholistic person. seeing him with her makes me feel utterly alone- like somehow i've failed, he found someone when i couldn't. he is happy and partnered while i am not.

To be completely clear, however, i do not want to be partnered, with anyone. I am specifically steering clear of those entanglements, as much as I feel pulled toward them- I haven't techically been single for more than a couple months since I was.... 19? I think I was nineteen. I am twenty-five now, and unwilling to brave whatever heartbreak or drama or bullshit that might accompany any sort of sexual/romantic engagement. There are too many other things I want to do with my time.

i want everyone to leave me alone. i want this specter of r & my relationship to leave me alone. i can make those decisions... and move on with my life. right?

i'm ready to leave portland, everyone. leave all this shit behind and move on.

why

do i feel like shit? what do i have to be worried about? let's make a list.
- relationship with r & other ppl
- going to grad school
- graduating college
- turning in this grant
- getting good grades this term
- money.
Ok. Good stuff. Ok, so my relationship with r will be what it will be. no more, no less. i have to just be who I am, struggles and all. me, the imperfect package. I'm not applying to grad school this term. SIGH!! SHIT!! SIGH!! I will graduate from college- no matter what- in August. This grant is no biggie. at all. i just have to write a proposal. My grades will most likely be fine, and if I need money I can work more. the end. the end. the end. the end.

i'm tired

of talking to people about my struggles. i just want to make decisions and figure shit out. i don't want to talk about drama anymore. at all. i don't want drama period. just do it, stop talking about it. sigh.
what am i doing? where the fuck am i going? i have not felt this consistently messed up for many years. many years.
i want to get the fuck out of portland. new start. no stigma.