January 20th, 2004

Me pink

Fuck me. For crying out loud.

Arrgh. So this is the third time I've tried to update my journal today. The first was erased when I accidentally unhooked the phone cord from my computer, and I just obliterated the second attempt when I tried to Google a link for it.

So anyway ...

I've been online for the last hour or so job hunting, and having my usual minimal success. I really want to get the fuck out of production already ... it's getting me nowhere and I'm sick of spending so goddamn much time just sitting on my ass and waiting for the phone to ring. Sure, I keep applying to Tela Ropa (and The East End Food Co-op, and Whole Foods), but I never fucking get any offers for anything other than production work. I want a "NORMAL" job! I'm sick of this freelance crap! I miss Facets like you wouldn't believe sometimes. "The Lunch Club," coworkers who were also friends ... feh. And that's part of why it was so great to be at The Pittsburgh Film Office this past summer, although that was really a "co-op"; three months and I was gone. My life is a series of co-ops. You Antiochians know what I'm saying.

So yea. Last night was a blurry haze of pain killers and politics. Vince and Phat Mandee rode me home afterward, and I've got to say, Vince's car is the scariest ride I've been in since high school. You could dumpster dive in it, it's so trashed. Then I'm pretty sure I went online and commiserated with khaosinc and x355955 about drugs and heartbreak and everything in between.

So now I'm sitting here, having applied to the film that Cheyenne told me about, even though I highly doubt I'd find a way to schlep to Detroit for a job, no matter how desperately unemployed I am at the moment, and wondering when and if I'll ever feel like I'm in control again. Did I ever really feel in control before? Have I ever been in control? Or am I still just doing what I'm told? H.W.S.R.N. and Monica and I could all really compare notes on this if any of the three of us felt willing to be real and honest about it ... instead I find comfort with them because they accept my situation without asking too many questions, just as I don't ask those questions of their lives. Do they notice it too? The similarities? I see them sometimes all too plainly.

Last night I walked out on Peezy. I went back to Quiet Storm after going to Lynette's thing at the Glass Factory (and feeling sad already, because I'd been stood up for lunch and then denied the chance to make my own marble) ... and I went to hug Peezy and he told me to stay away because he was smoking again. I kept asking "why?" and he kept halfway answering and halfway evading me, and then when he stood up to get more coffee I just walked out and went home. I felt bad for doing it, but in that moment I just felt so overwhelmed with sadness that I needed to get out of there.
Me pink

An update? So soon? She really MUST be going crazy ...

That feeling ... like you want to put your fist or maybe your face through a plate glass window. Sometimes it's about the aftermath ... the warm feeling of blood rushing down your face, a sure way to know you're alive ... Sometimes it's the action in itself, the act of smashing, the noise, the destruction ... I don't know what it is with me. I suspect I should call someone ... Orange Mike is the most likely to both understand and respond.

Sometimes, at Quiet Storm, I see these people sitting and having these intense one-on-one conversations, and I think that's what I want. To have someone be that interested in what's really going on with me ... so have someone lean in close and focus on what I'm saying ...

Instead, it feels like all that much chitchat. Ah, here I go ... off to try and find someone to be my friend yet again!
Me pink

antiochbitch is the shiznit

See how things work out? I was so sad and so depressed and then I went downstairs to head out to Quiet Storm, and what should be waiting in my mailbox but a little package from antiochbitch. I waited til I got to Quiet Storm to open my surprise: a mix tape! Oh, but it gets even better than that. Guess what song she included: "David Duchovny" by Bree Sharp! I can't tell you how much I've been wanting a copy of that song. I was going to fast forward straight to it, but have opted instead to get the whole flow and play it as taped. Of course, since I'm listening to it in the computer room, I'm hearing it all garbled and crackly through my little portable tape player, but hey - we can't all be Jim Isler.

She also sent me a five finger discounted Antioch Alumni sticker a little while ago, which arrived right on the heels of wackywallflower's letter (which included excerpts from Breakfast of Champions, one of my favorite books from high school).

So thank you, thank you, and thank you again, antiochbitch and wackywallflower. I trust you have received similar surprises in your mailboxes by now?

Oh, and can somebody explain to me when and why it changed from "CWSP" to "FWSP"?