01:48 - Saturday, Feb. 19, 2005
I'M MAKING UP FOR NEVER USING CAPITALS IN MY TITLES
IT'S 1:48 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING..... I am on my second wind. Obviously. Since I am not a night owl by any stretch of the imagination, though you may be conned into thinking I am because I have a night job (and that would be ERRONEOUS and ILLOGICAL). I tried to make a patchwork bracelet in the car and it failed. I knotted it all up with the automatic transmission, and tried to use a mechanical pencil to loosen it, and technology kicked me on my ass, and then a bunch of perfumy girls gossiping about a lovesick boy got in my car, looked at me on my ass, and offered the following condolences: '13TH AND AURORA PLEASE.'
I feel like I am already dreaming, that being in my bed isn't necessary for such things, that, and this has been a hope and a fear of mine all my life, I am capable of being completely, hallucinat..or..ily? detached from reality without being asleep. For some reason, some months ago, I chose to stuff a picture of Lara in my bracelet thread bag. It is now staring at me (Hi, Lara!) along with some contact lens solution, a reproachful kitten-cat, skew-point turquoise scissors, and the illustration on my primate evolutionary biology book of a chimp swinging my his hand-feet. This kind of thing makes me outraged that humans are the evolutionary mistake and missed out on having opposable big toes like pretty much all other primates ever since the adapoids and omomy[REST OF SENTENCE DELETED FOR OVERUSE OF PRIMATOLOGY JARGON] and now, we suck at climbing trees: we need special, climbing-friendly trees with lots of nice boughs and manageable spaces.
I am jealous of Camille - Hi Camille, you know why I'm jealous of you - and plan to rectify this situation SOON.
14:03 - Thursday, Feb. 17, 2005
no, you did that survey because...
... you LOVE it. You LOVE filling out painstaking, invasive, self-involving nonsense about you, your history, your love life, your likes and dislikes. You revel in the spaces after each number asking what your nicknames are, your favorite color/number/food, what your relationship status is, whether you like your looks, even though everybody already KNOWS all that shit because they're either (a) your friend or (b) you've filled out ten of these surveys before at the EXACT SAME WEB ADDRESS. You're not taking this survey because 'I'm bored', 'I've got nothing better to do', 'so-and-so made me', or 'I'm scared of what the chain letter said I would get bad luck in love for ten years and my mom would die, tee hee'. You're taking it because YOU LOVE FILLING OUT SURVEYS ABOUT YOURSELF. It is an awesome, perfect way to talk endlessly about the most mundane things about yourself under the guise that someone asked you! See?! Right here, they asked you, what underwear is your favorite underwear. I'm not lying, the question's right there.
And you know what? I love filling out surveys too. I have resisted the urge for far too long. When I see a survey, just begging to be filled out in clever twists and inside jokes, my heart wrenches inside, for I thought that I could not sully my diary with such tripe. But now! Now! Send me your best! Travel to the ends of the earth in search of the best, most wonderful, most painstaking, invasive, self-involving nonsense that you can possible get your mouse upon and send it to me! Send it to me and I shall complete! And you know why? Because ... I LOVE it. I LOVE filling out painstaking, invasive, self-involving nonsense about me......
(this is one of those circular entries, a song that never ends, yes it just goes on and on my friends, don't you hate when that happens?)
11:22 - Thursday, Feb. 17, 2005
if laziness were illegal
If laziness were illegal, if calling a free car pickup service whose original purpose was to drive single girls from one place to another didn't get raped, you know, THAT service, if calling them to drive your group of five two blocks away were illegal, then MAYBE college society would start getting somewhere. Maybe. Doubtful, but still kinda, sorta possible. Complete lack of drive is something way, way more dangerous than the smoking of marijuana (though, as a sidenote, I should mention that to some people the smoking of marijuana brings on the kind of lack of drive that would bring them the desire to call this service for their group of five, but for me personally it has always made me immune to the prospect of sore walking muscles or freezing wind), and if more people just decided that they were going to feel, in their muscles, in their eyes, in the time it took, in the streetsigns and streetlights they passed on the way, the places they were going and staying and waking up drunk in the morning (afternoon), it might all have more meaning. I don't know. I don't ever consider just up and going to 55th street at 11 p.m., because I'm still a little imbued with the responsibility of having to get back, or at least making my best effort to get back. I know what those 50 blocks feel like; I have missed the bus, I know what Colorado wind is. If it weren't 'dangerous' to walk around after dark, what would these groups do? It's not dangerous for them, but they can pretend convincingly enough that it is and we can't argue. I feel like they're wasting my time, but more that they're wasting theirs; that their experience is becoming cheap; by day they travel by their own new shiny cars and safety of sunshine on the slice of leg they show between miniskirt and Ugg; by day they sleep until half of it's over and go to class without seeing, and by night, they emerge from their cocoons and won't venture past their front door without a car, idling, waiting to drop them at another front door.
I am not immune, nor am I innocent; I live in a very residential non-college-student part of town; I live a block from a park with a creek and a playground and five hundred trillion hiking paths. I live by a place where, if I started going west, I could lose civilisation in less than a half an hour - completely. My western border is uninhabitable mountains. The cold here is not dangerous, like Chicago; it does not venture into the negatives or lightningstorm without warning. At night, when I'm fighting off the night-doldrums, the feeling that, a few years ago, wouldn't I have been out driving around in Nikki's car or having a mask party or a kendo-fight or been at marching band or HelpLine? and now, I am not doing any of those things but am in my house, weaving a bracelet or idling surfing the net or searching for things to do with Nick, who is so busy now he doesn't have time to think or speak - these nights, when I know without argument that I would feel better if I went on a walk, but I don't, because of the 'danger'..??
12:16 - Tuesday, Feb. 15, 2005
you know how...
I know more than I need to know about primate adaptions... I am sad, lately. The kind of sad that comes from going nowhere. I am very close to graduating (9 months). Over the course of three years, I have lost more friends than I have gained. I don't think it's because I retreated into a Nick-centric homebody anymore, or at least I don't think that's the central reason. I just think we were tenuously similar in the first place, and as we spent that tiniest amount of time apart, the thread split. I am not talking about anyone in Evanston. If that thread were going to split completely, it already would have.
I am looking very forward to summer. Boulder is a tease. It's 60 and sunny, then 65 and sunny, then 70 and sunny... it's anticipation anticipation and girls are shaving their legs carefully and crowding tanning salons and storming Urban Outfitters for new sundresses.... and then it's 10 and snowy and gloomy and nasty, and my kitty is missing, out in the snow. I hope she's smart, and is squatting in someone's warm house, but in reality she's not that smart at all and is probably chasing snowflakes, exhausting her tiny little immune system.
You know how sometimes you're single and you're lonely and you think all that will make it better is having someone wrapped around you, holding you, distracting you, kissing you, loving you... and then that happens and you forget what loneliness feels like for upwards of six months, and you think you've become stronger, that you've beaten this ridiculous lonely hopelessness by full power of your own will... but then the six months ends, your lover begins to feel like they are a part of you, so even when you are together you are still alone and this time there is no quick fix you can see in your head... you can't say 'if I only had someone' because you do have someone and, somehow, the someone's not working? And you're forced to accept that even with someone, you are still lonely in your bones, that it was hiding, and there is nowhere to go from here?
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