Log in

Aug. 9th, 2011

 well I hate when I just feel terrible and I realize that
I have been going through my contacts and calling them, and the few who answer, then, multiple times, too many times and it gets to be to the point where I am too worried about being a bother and I just have no idea what to do I guess nothing I guess
always have these silly ideas about fixing things, like getting a turtle, because now that little fellow needs me
so that is always something to think about

and I just feel overwhelmed and confused and full of regret and alone
which is my own fault so

I don't even know what to do 
maybe I will fall asleep

Detox Scheduling

 How do you tell which things are poison and which are the necessary pains?


 I will be returning to Maine in two weeks.
It will be the first time in three years.

I keep saying that it will feel strange, but, maybe it just won't feel like anything in particular. I probably won't see anyone. And if I do, perhaps I will be driving by, and say their name aloud, just to prove that I remember. Maybe it will just feel like a vacation, though to a vaguely familiar place, unimportantly.


And, a-hum-hum-hum...

Busy as ever! Or perhaps, as never, and therefore, really not so busy, but relatively so (also, and truly this time, though the road between relativity and truth may be one way, as ever) One moment I will be overcome with worry need-more-time-need-more-know, and the next, at ease.

Working at the RRCDC [I AM WRITING YOU ON BEHALF OF THE ROCHESTER REGIONAL COMMUNITY DESIGN CENTER] is much different than it was over the summer. Janet (or, I think, in my mind I see Joni dancing in, clothes all waving about, as thats the sort she wears, singing out "Janetta..." or, on happier occasions, a duet between her and "Angela! Angelina!") has returned. I am thankful that my name does not lend itself to this silliness. In any case, Janet has returned and brought back a hurried, bothered, humbuggery to the office. And I am bound by paycheck (though lacking, thus far) to being doing rather than self-enriching, as it had once been.

And occasionally, I must justify, dispassionately, logically, the doings of the enterprise as a whole. I can't seem to help it that, when I come home at night and sit in bed, I cannot think about MISSIONS any longer. I am sad to say that I think this is the case with most people-- even the ones I have met, such as Joni herself, with the most genuine drive and commitment. I think she dreams about canoeing and still Vermont summers as much or perhaps more than she does urban renewal, sustainability, thoughtful policy and implementation... Like I said, I do believe that it is "just the way it goes."

I am trying my best to feel disappointed selectively, but "HOW CAN I... EVER CHANGE THINGS THAT I FEEL?" Politics. I have a question to that end-- Why is everything bundled? It is strategic. I have heard many things about DADT since yesterday's happenings, but none of them seem to reasonably take into consideration that very question. Why was this proposed in a bundle? Why not take a look and see how many policies are proposed in giant bundles, very loosely related to each other, and how that changes what is passed. And then, another item debated recently. Homosexuals supporting Republicans are hypocrites? Black and white black and white black and white. Skew skew and hot button. Good and bad good and evil.

There is legitimacy in prioritzation by sums... and I think, in the end, I can only be distressed if it is doled out by the Supreme Court. Everything else is too convoluted. I don't feel justified in blaming anyone for this particular occasion. What ever happened to civics class, by the way? A modernized version? I have no faith anymore. HOW CAN WE SIMULTANEOUSLY BLAME THE GOVERNMENT AND LOOK FOR SOLUTIONS FROM THAT SAME GOVERNMENT? I heard this asked to a history professor twice, after he finished explaining how absurd it was that universal health care did not exist, yet criticized every politician, every government organization, and etcetera that had pulled off previous attempts at just that. He couldn't answer. Either time. It haunts me to this day. Haunts haunts haunts. You know what else no one can answer (particularly in reference to health savings accounts, but it applies to many things, food stamps, for example)? Do you not trust the poor to make their own decisions about what they need the most?

A fellow in my social & political philosophy class today said he'd rather live in Somalia than in the U.S. I find that very deeply disturbing. I'd especially like to send him to Somalia and see if he feels the same way then.

Troubled by the thought of a therapeutic God. Wondering if, even in doubt of God, I am artificially creating a God-Therapist.

And what else is there? TA-ing. I dread the day that I must actually provide assistance to someone; I find myself wildly incompetent compared to the other TAs. Environmental Econ was intuitive for me. Graphs and jargon, no, nope. Treasurer-ing. Bulletin-ing. Cooking. Doubting.

And Kurt. His parents found him. Thats the part that bothers me the most. And the video attached to his obituary, with clips of a random gurgling stream between the pictures.

And miles of paperwork, phone calls, meetings, and red tape standing between me and that ever changing objective.

And vegetables. They are very delicious. And nostalgia. And so many nightmares. And a dream, too, about making up a bed for you. Four beds, so you could choose the sheets.

Know you're not counting me on the list, but I didn't forget. Keep meaning to, but just can't seem to get around to it.

I'm sorry none of this is important. Can't for the life of me figure out what is.

Oh yes, and one more thing: I've decided that if I ever fill out that whole notebook with something Very Good, good enough to be noted by something, then I will mail it back to you.

No, Not That!

Sometimes I say things in the absolute wrong tone of voice.
This Entry is Regarding Manners and Building Maintenance.


There is a marking on the desk-- and I should say it is one of the nicest, newest desks-- that is, I believe, a declaration of love.


Heart Heart Heart.
The janitors have approved of the edits, for the edits have endured, despite being penciled in.


Sometimes while I am walking through the hospital at strange hours of the night, I imagine that I have a sort of covenant with the janitorial staff... that they know which are the Most Important works of vandalism, the ones that should be left even on the nicest of desks, just so that, at any moment when a student sits in Dewey 2-110A asking themselves, "How will I survive this?" and "May I shut my eyes or walk out or quit, even?" that they may instead be preoccupied with much more important issues of Intrigue and Romance.

Of course, it is not even the same janitorial staff. But I believe in the power of the Secret Underground Network, and on Monday mornings I believe that I am a very hurried doctor, being paged, and listening most intently to the announcements overhead, and on Tuesdays I believe that I am walking through, invisible, and other days back-lit as on Touched by an Angel. There are usually more things happening that aren't then happening that are, if you see what I mean.

Oh, and as ever there are so many things for taking care of and tending to and responding to, but I am very wrapped up and all, you see, in all of these unhappenings to me. This is late, and that is late, and there was something that I told myself and forgot to say out loud. --

Something you wouldn't believe: I went out dancing. I put on my best and brightest tights and best and brightest wig and went downtown. I saw that man there, he stood next to me, not dancing, wearing a Hat and a Long Coat and he was very, very stupid looking, I thought to myself-- which I was glad about, since he seems to care so much about his Outside-- and I was afraid, as he stood behind me for so long, that he might kidnap me. Still, I was glad that, if he did, I could at least say See, I Told You He Was A Complete Scuzz-Bucket! Well, at any rate, it was interesting to see him doing some activity that was not self-indulgent, unless he was in fact getting pleasure from standing motionless among the dancers, and really, nothing surprises me anymore.

You may as well not sign your secrets with your name.

So that this may digress properly, or be linked poorly, or fall apart shortly: from now on only the handicap bathroom stalls shall be lit. As for those using the remaining stalls, it is the dark from now on, so as that we might conserve energy and also conceal the identity of those who choose to take their phone calls while peeing.

She was saying what a terrible habit it is to end every conversation with, "Have a nice day!" and instead I thought, but a much worse habit to end every conversation with, "Enjoy the movie!"

Stepping On To Kendrick

Today I went to cross the street. I looked both ways, I looked ahead, around,and stepped out. Stepped out on to a dead squirrel.

Now I Remember!

Because without it, I get nothing done.

It feels good to have all these ideas. And all these projects. It makes me feel healthy. But. I must remind myself. It is very unhealthy. And all of it will come to nothing. And all of it will be buried. And none of it is very good, or quite the same, recreated.

This is why it is imperative that you start believing in faeries. Or anything.
Sometimes I am very, very terrified of things disappearing. I am always thinking of these people that were once such a large part of What I Was Doing, and then remain a large part of Who I Became, because I can't seem to separate the two, and I can't seem to let go of any the ways that were... I wonder sometimes, will these people wonder what has happened to me too during this time? I will wonder if someday we might reconnect, or forget that we had ever disconnected, or forget

I can't remember what I was saying. I don't care to look at it.
I believe in the coffee shops, too, I believe that we will still meet on top of the Empire State Building even though I forgot the date and you forgot the date and we lost each others things and each others numbers and addresses and everything

I still believe that all these things will happen, and I still would like to know how you are, though it might disorient me to think of how you are, now