show me the stars

I went to visit Samantha this last weekend and I had an incredible time. A misquoting GA glowered at us in church while we played with Transformers, we ate artichokes, drank hot chocolate, and she even played the piano for me. It was incredible escaping into the beautiful world of the Queen.

The drive was excellent: radio blasting Rihanna, David Sedaris and David Rakoff books on Ipod, and the company couldn’t have been better. When I got home on Sunday I noticed that I was feeling nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s been awhile since I was shut-off emotionally, and I wasn't sure what was going on at first. I decided to watch Beyond the Gates to see if I really was dead inside. While I was sitting there realizing I was actually dead inside, the person next to me on the sofa had tears streaming down his face. I don’t understand crying.

Thinking that this was probably a bad place for me to be in, given my history of exceptional emotional eruptions when I begin to feel again, I decided it necessary to get back to that "feeling" thing again as soon as possible. I notified one of my roommates what was going on and we talked for a little while. He mostly talked while I listened. After a few minutes I started getting a little nauseas from the anxiety of denying the cut and run impulse that was racing through me. I excused myself, acknowledging that leaving was probably the best thing to do in that situation.

Monday morning brought no change in feeling. I was called, “bitchy” by one roommate, then another said, “I would’ve actually said cunty.” Lovely. I sent a few emails to people explaining my current situation the best I could, their responses which were all slightly negative made me question why I actually work hard at continuing friendship thing. But there has to be a reason, or, at least that's what people tell me.

The roommate I spoke with previously about my case of emotional void came home from work and asked if I was still not feeling. I responded in the negative and he replied, “It’s kind of obvious.”

I went to go to a yoga class.

During the practice I was getting really angry. Anger was good, right? At least it was a feeling. I knew it wasn’t going to last long. Getting home from yoga, I talked to the roommate that asked about my non-emotional state. We talked some more in my room and it was nice, I began feeling something again.

Waking up today I examined the feelings thing again. I was feeling the very limited range of emotions I was feeling the night before as I was talking with my roommate. Not bad. Not bad at all.

When I came home from work today I started feeling sad. I think it’s a good thing, but it still sucks ass, and not in that hot-porn-star-kind-of-way either.

After thinking about the cut and run impulse I have, which Ward (RIP) lovingly called a “character deficiency,” come to the conclusion that I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be understood and be with a good friend. I’ve been thinking I’m at the point where it’d be nice to have someone that knows what’s going on inside of me, willing to be near me when I’m feeling like this and just letting me be with them. It would be nice to know that I’m not hurting them or ruining their lives by being in their company, or to have them hurt when my initial reaction to being around them is to jump out a second story window.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Excuse me, would you like some Sheri Dew with that?

I did something today I never thought I would do, and my first thought was that I wish I had worn sexier underwear.

While I was at work I was in the back stockroom finishing up one project, and getting ready to leave. I was wearing my favorite pair of worn–in corduroys, an old pair of Doc Martins and a clearance Lands End button up (read: AtP’s straight man ensemble) I had just noticed some dirt that got on my shirt from moving pictures around as I bent down to grab a stack of The Ark by Michael McLean then heard a small sound coming from behind me. Not being used to the sound of splitting fabric, I thought it was, at first, an odd squeak emanating from the shoes I rarely wear. That was until I bent to the side to look for some more books, heard the same noise, only louder this time and noticed that my pants seemed freer than they had only moments before.

There I was, in the back of God’s Bookstore, completely dismayed by the fact I was wearing pants that shamelessly displayed my rather plain underclothing to the world. Surrounded by stacks of boxed pictures, discounted books by Robert Millet, and Christmas ornaments, the only thought I had is that I wish I had worn something other than Haines. Gaining enough composure to quickly finish the project I was working on, I dismissed myself with a small explanation and went home to my apartment.

I’m still slightly puzzled as to the actual mechanics of pant splittage in my certain circumstance. I mean… I am me after all. To those of you who actually know me can attest to the fact that I am ridiculously thin. Honestly, you couldn’t even tell that I had a backside when I wore those pants.

Hmmm it’s too late to think about how it happened because the only explanation I could come up with was that God was bored and wanted a good chuckle from one of His employees.

if you run, run fast.

This is the third intro to a post I’ve written in the last thirty minutes. I’ve deleted everything else because it would only cause a commotion, just take up unnecessary space, and waste your time and mine.

I’m scared that all the planning, analyzing, and the general amount of work that I’ve done the last few months is being taken away from me. I can almost feel some person robbing me of everything that I thought I had built up to protect me. I am now alone with my feelings and it’s terrifyingly daunting.

Keeping myself seemingly stable is taking up a rather large portion of energy, I stay away more than I used to. If I were to stay in most of the social situations I find myself in, I would say some incredibly hurtful things and definitely damage more relationships than I would by steering clear of company.

I need to talk to therapist about the dead brother. I ended up going taking a box of his pictures and books to my apartment and going through them with a friend on Saturday night. After getting to the bottom of the box, I felt hungry. It doesn’t make sense to me but I was happy I wanted to eat something.

winter winter spring

I don't want to write about why I have been feeling so on edge lately

I don't want to revisit the memories of the last week and share them with the world

I don't want to write about how I haven't been able to eat well for the last week

or how sad, I am

or how frustrated, I am.

No. I won't do it. I can't.

Watching the Sky

Sometimes I miss my brother, a lot.

All we can do is keep breathing.

I’ve been feeling just a little bit off the past few days. I couldn’t pinpoint it, I didn’t want to say what was causing it because it means

I’m not as emotionally mature as I thought I was. That pisses me off.

Come on, now. This year has been jam-packed craziness for me…literally. I moved out, got in a co-dependent relationship, moved back to P-town, was suicidal, found a more stable environment and I’m slowly figuring out what I want. That sounds like a hell of a lot of stuff to have happen in 10 months. I think I should have been able to move past the “Getting emotionally effed up whenever something totally expected happens” stage of my life. But no.

It took me over a week to realize what was causing me to feel all… off, and now I’m just bugged.

Anyway, I have a few posts I’ve been trying to work on, but I couldn’t. Hopefully now that I’ve sort of started cleaning this up I’ll be able to move on and get something of worth actually posted.