After electronic conversations with Ryan and Laura W. - yes, this is going to get confusing - I'm feeling much more optimistic. And fed up with myself, but that's my own hangup. Hopefully my emotional state will start listening to reality soon. If anyone else wants to positively reinforce me, please feel free.
Laura G. told me she got home from work just dead exhausted last night. I can't argue; I was feeling that way myself.
After spending half the day moping around and feeling physically shitty and sorry for myself, I went out and got some stencils. I thought that spraypaint required ID in Chicago, but the hardware store told me it's illegal to cell in the city limits. Bullshit. Now I gotta pick up some suburban spraypaint somewhere. I think red and black should be fine for beginners.
I picked up some fruit and some groceries, since I was getting low on a few things. Snow had started coming down by then, but I was driving and the weather didn't penetrate my climate-controlled transport cubicle.
This evening I've made some fresh grape juice/slurry in the blender, and installed the external hard drive I got last week. Tomorrow I need to see about getting a cheap card-reader so I can actually upload my photos I've been taking. I'm heading out to meet up with Liv and Les for a little bit tonight before I come home and crash in preparation for tomorrow's early rise.
Of all the CDs I filed Saturday, I can't find my copy of Rancid's Indestructible or the Suicide Machines' A Match and Some Gasoline. Thankfully they were both burned copies and can be recovered from either WNUR, a friend, or if need be, the inter-web.
Yeah, what an exciting day. Tomorrow I've got a 7am lecture, and Wednesday Nyasha and I have to present a pedo-ortho case, which is always a blast. Feh. Looking forward to some sleep.
Monday, January 15, 2007
"Let's get this show on the road," said the coma girl to the excitement gang.
Right now I'm sitting in bed listening to the incredibly odd mix of songs my MP3 player seems to be putting out. I like it. From punk to jazz to reggae to folk to whatever. When Alton Ellis's version of "Change of Plan" came on, I had to put down my book and lay back and listen; to my neurotically pessimistic state of mind, some of the lyrics were right fucking on.
I never heard from Laura last night. I tried calling, but no answer. So she didn't come over as previously discussed. Color me disappointed. Truth be told, though, I was so tired I was passing out by 11pm anyway. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, all tired and sore still, but wide awake. Maybe a little hungover, too, but I did most of my sobering up last night, and rehydrated heavily as well. Those ten-point beers sure can knock you back.
The ride yesterday was a blast. I've known Danny for six and a half years, but we never started to become friends until a few months ago. A fair amount of that was my part, I think. But it was good to talk with him and hang out for a while.
I was thinking of the insecurities I have, and how I seem to need constant reinforcement sometimes. When I was younger, I really trusted no one. Yeah, it was lonely, and yeah, it hurt sometimes, but it was a predictable, manageable pain - unlike that inflicted (intentionally or not) by other people.
By the time I hit second grade, I was in my fourth or fifth school since my family had moved around so much. I felt like I was constantly at the low end of the totem pole, and never really caught up with my peers socially, until finally at one point in high school I decided that the game wasn't worth playing and I could create my own world with whoever I wanted to let in.
This plan didn't work that well; when I was eighteen, my dog Rocky was hit by a car and we weren't sure if we were going to have to put him to sleep or not. I remember laying on the floor with him at 1am telling him he was the best friend I had since he never judged and always listened. But at that point the plan was still better than the old plan of trying to follow the trends and catch up with the crowd, especially since I was so inept at it.
My parents had me seeing a child psychologist both when I was seven and then again at eleven. I just thought it was a normal thing that everyone did every Saturday at first; I can't remember when it really occurred to me that not everyone did this.
When I was eleven, my day had switched to Tuesday. I remember after my mom would pick me up, we'd usually get Little Caesar's or Brown's Chicken for dinner. I don't know if it was a ploy to buy me off, but I came cheaply then. The psychologist, Dr. Crockett, bought me off with candy and soda.
Dr. Crockett wanted me to draw a picture once. Being eleven years old, and this being 1989 or '90, I drew a teenage mutant ninja turtle. Of course, since I didn't want to draw anything for this woman, I drew it very shittily and quickly just to get it over with. After she heaped lavish praise on me and my shitty drawing, I didn't trust a thing that came out of her mouth. That, coupled with my wising up to the fact that she would discuss our sessions with my mom afterward, induced me to really not be honest or completely forthcoming with her.
Ironic, isn't it, that seeing a psychologist induced more reticence in me? I don't know why I stopped going; maybe I stopped making "progress," or maybe I was "fixed."
When I was fifteen, my parents wanted to do group therapy with me so I'd relate to them better. (I say "relate to them" since they've never showed any real inclination to relate to me.) I think we had one session with Dr. Kane. I told them if they wanted me to go back, they'd have to physically drag me. I think they offered to pay me a pretty hefty sum, and I told them I didn't want it.
I think it would be interesting to read the notes from those childhood therapy sessions. I have a copy of my pediatrician's records, and there was a note that my dad was concerned I was clinically depressed.
Two years ago, my family was in Keystone, me with my swollen ankle and my brother sick and my parents skiing while I went stir-crazy. My parents and I went to dinner at a restaurant on the top of the mountain, to which we had to take two gondolas. On the way back, they admitted that my brother did play them off against me when we were young, and they unintentionally gave him more attention because of his immune deficiency. I think I changed the subject and then the trip was over soon after that.
I have the two periodic tables from Doug Coupland's Shampoo Planet taped up on my wall; one of the elements, "Oo" is "moodswing." Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown" just came on, and I remember a quote from Billy Bragg saying that he used to think love was like a Smokey Robinson song, until he fell in love. He said he still listens to Smokey Robinson, but tries to write love songs without love.
I think it's time to get up and shower and definitely eat something. Once I've got some food in my belly, it's much easier to shut out the disappointment and work on developing my solo life.
Sometimes the old way of complete lack of trust is very tempting. Two years ago, when Marta told me I was a burden, it seemed to validate every fear I'd had coming of age. There were so many times when I felt things would be easier for everyone if I wasn't around. Sometimes I still feel that way, that my impact is so minimal it doesn't really matter. When she said that to me, it seemed to justify every moment of shutting people out and never letting anyone close or relying on them. I resolved to be that way again; it seemed like the only response that would prevent me from being a burden on others. But then I fell asleep, woke up, and forgave her since I was so in love.
I'm not heading back down that road right now, though. I guess I'm just too much of an optimist, even though sometimes it feels like I crash and burn rather than soar.
Fuck, I really need to eat something.
I never heard from Laura last night. I tried calling, but no answer. So she didn't come over as previously discussed. Color me disappointed. Truth be told, though, I was so tired I was passing out by 11pm anyway. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, all tired and sore still, but wide awake. Maybe a little hungover, too, but I did most of my sobering up last night, and rehydrated heavily as well. Those ten-point beers sure can knock you back.
The ride yesterday was a blast. I've known Danny for six and a half years, but we never started to become friends until a few months ago. A fair amount of that was my part, I think. But it was good to talk with him and hang out for a while.
I was thinking of the insecurities I have, and how I seem to need constant reinforcement sometimes. When I was younger, I really trusted no one. Yeah, it was lonely, and yeah, it hurt sometimes, but it was a predictable, manageable pain - unlike that inflicted (intentionally or not) by other people.
By the time I hit second grade, I was in my fourth or fifth school since my family had moved around so much. I felt like I was constantly at the low end of the totem pole, and never really caught up with my peers socially, until finally at one point in high school I decided that the game wasn't worth playing and I could create my own world with whoever I wanted to let in.
This plan didn't work that well; when I was eighteen, my dog Rocky was hit by a car and we weren't sure if we were going to have to put him to sleep or not. I remember laying on the floor with him at 1am telling him he was the best friend I had since he never judged and always listened. But at that point the plan was still better than the old plan of trying to follow the trends and catch up with the crowd, especially since I was so inept at it.
My parents had me seeing a child psychologist both when I was seven and then again at eleven. I just thought it was a normal thing that everyone did every Saturday at first; I can't remember when it really occurred to me that not everyone did this.
When I was eleven, my day had switched to Tuesday. I remember after my mom would pick me up, we'd usually get Little Caesar's or Brown's Chicken for dinner. I don't know if it was a ploy to buy me off, but I came cheaply then. The psychologist, Dr. Crockett, bought me off with candy and soda.
Dr. Crockett wanted me to draw a picture once. Being eleven years old, and this being 1989 or '90, I drew a teenage mutant ninja turtle. Of course, since I didn't want to draw anything for this woman, I drew it very shittily and quickly just to get it over with. After she heaped lavish praise on me and my shitty drawing, I didn't trust a thing that came out of her mouth. That, coupled with my wising up to the fact that she would discuss our sessions with my mom afterward, induced me to really not be honest or completely forthcoming with her.
Ironic, isn't it, that seeing a psychologist induced more reticence in me? I don't know why I stopped going; maybe I stopped making "progress," or maybe I was "fixed."
When I was fifteen, my parents wanted to do group therapy with me so I'd relate to them better. (I say "relate to them" since they've never showed any real inclination to relate to me.) I think we had one session with Dr. Kane. I told them if they wanted me to go back, they'd have to physically drag me. I think they offered to pay me a pretty hefty sum, and I told them I didn't want it.
I think it would be interesting to read the notes from those childhood therapy sessions. I have a copy of my pediatrician's records, and there was a note that my dad was concerned I was clinically depressed.
Two years ago, my family was in Keystone, me with my swollen ankle and my brother sick and my parents skiing while I went stir-crazy. My parents and I went to dinner at a restaurant on the top of the mountain, to which we had to take two gondolas. On the way back, they admitted that my brother did play them off against me when we were young, and they unintentionally gave him more attention because of his immune deficiency. I think I changed the subject and then the trip was over soon after that.
I have the two periodic tables from Doug Coupland's Shampoo Planet taped up on my wall; one of the elements, "Oo" is "moodswing." Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown" just came on, and I remember a quote from Billy Bragg saying that he used to think love was like a Smokey Robinson song, until he fell in love. He said he still listens to Smokey Robinson, but tries to write love songs without love.
I think it's time to get up and shower and definitely eat something. Once I've got some food in my belly, it's much easier to shut out the disappointment and work on developing my solo life.
Sometimes the old way of complete lack of trust is very tempting. Two years ago, when Marta told me I was a burden, it seemed to validate every fear I'd had coming of age. There were so many times when I felt things would be easier for everyone if I wasn't around. Sometimes I still feel that way, that my impact is so minimal it doesn't really matter. When she said that to me, it seemed to justify every moment of shutting people out and never letting anyone close or relying on them. I resolved to be that way again; it seemed like the only response that would prevent me from being a burden on others. But then I fell asleep, woke up, and forgave her since I was so in love.
I'm not heading back down that road right now, though. I guess I'm just too much of an optimist, even though sometimes it feels like I crash and burn rather than soar.
Fuck, I really need to eat something.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Headwind; cold rain to break me
I just walked in the door from the Three Floyds Ride. I'm still pretty buzzed, considering 4 beers at the place and one on the road in the bike bottle. All my fat parts are cold - ass, stomach, love handles - whether this is due to the temperature outside or the fact that Danny and I ended up waiting for a few slow-pokes on the windy-ass Lakefront Path, I don't know. I do know that the ride was a blast, and I intend to repeat it next year, since I love bicycling and I love beer.
The ride down was pretty cool - I was getting tired by the time we got there, but I was also sweaty and probably pushing myself. The ride back, however, was all upwind. I was with the group, but then Danny got caught back with one slow rider, and I stopped to wait for him/them, and to take a leak. (Public urination on the return trip is a common byproduct of this ride.) Anyway, we kept with him, despite his need for breaks, until we got downtown, when he and Danny decided to hit a Dunkin' Donuts and I headed for home. It was drizzling slightly by the time I got back, but the "wintry mix" that was forecast never really materialized.
Anyway, the beer was delicious (as was the food) and I need to shower. Laura's supposed to come over later.
The ride down was pretty cool - I was getting tired by the time we got there, but I was also sweaty and probably pushing myself. The ride back, however, was all upwind. I was with the group, but then Danny got caught back with one slow rider, and I stopped to wait for him/them, and to take a leak. (Public urination on the return trip is a common byproduct of this ride.) Anyway, we kept with him, despite his need for breaks, until we got downtown, when he and Danny decided to hit a Dunkin' Donuts and I headed for home. It was drizzling slightly by the time I got back, but the "wintry mix" that was forecast never really materialized.
Anyway, the beer was delicious (as was the food) and I need to shower. Laura's supposed to come over later.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Delroy Wilson, the Cool Operator
I just finished cleaning and lubing my bike chain. (The tire pressure was fine.) It actually looks like metal now - instead of black fuzzy grease - which is pretty cool. I put some new wet lube on there, too, in anticipation of tomorrow's likely inclemency.
In case you missed it (or I haven't mentioned it), tomorrow's the 65-mile round trip Three Floyds Ride, from Daley Plaza to the Three Floyds Brewery and Brewpub in Munster, IN. Danny called earlier, and he's not sure if he's going to be able to make it, since he's a little afraid of the weather. I know the forecast calls for snow and rain, but looking at the latest radar maps, it really shouldn't be that bad. I've probably ridden in worse - granted, not for three hours at a time - and I've definitely done some extended periods in rain and such. Really, once we get going, I'm sure the problem will be overheating, especially with the spiffy windbreaker/rainjacket I picked up a few weeks ago. Danny was getting ready to do some bike maintenance anyway, just in case.
I think I rode close to 12-13 miles today, heading to the House of Blues to pick up tix for Naked Raygun and then up to the Metro to pick up tix for Anti-Flag. So that's at least two shows to look forward to. I got home and needed a nap, which I took after showering and cleaning a few things up.
Laura called me this afternoon, and had just found out that her ex-boyfriend from a year or so ago was flying into town for her party tonight. I think she may have been going to ask anyway, but I volunteered to skip the party if that would be easier on her. She said that would be best since he would know everyone there and I would know maybe one other person. Intellectually, I know that I needn't be, but I can't help being a little jealous. I was looking forward to tonight, too, but that's alright; it's her party and I'll stay away if she needs me to. You would stay too if it happened to you. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night, though, since Laura and I are planning to get together.
I went to Binny's tonight and stocked up on some cerveza; I think I grabbed a pint bottle of every different type of Young's they had. And some Tripel Karmeliet kits w/ glasses, so I can serve my fancy beer in style. I popped a bottle of Young's Old Nick and went to the park across the street, and took what I think is a cool picture of the downtown skyline behind my streetfront. Of course, the fucking connection to my computer isn't working, so until I either go to school or pick up a cardreader, you'll have to take my word for it.
I talked to Dani for half an hour or so, and was able to catch up on things, which is always good. I've always felt I could lay anything out for her I felt like talking about, and it's still comforting to have that, even if I don't need it.
Delroy Wilson is on the speakers right now, and I think the diphenhydramine I took is starting to kick in...
In case you missed it (or I haven't mentioned it), tomorrow's the 65-mile round trip Three Floyds Ride, from Daley Plaza to the Three Floyds Brewery and Brewpub in Munster, IN. Danny called earlier, and he's not sure if he's going to be able to make it, since he's a little afraid of the weather. I know the forecast calls for snow and rain, but looking at the latest radar maps, it really shouldn't be that bad. I've probably ridden in worse - granted, not for three hours at a time - and I've definitely done some extended periods in rain and such. Really, once we get going, I'm sure the problem will be overheating, especially with the spiffy windbreaker/rainjacket I picked up a few weeks ago. Danny was getting ready to do some bike maintenance anyway, just in case.
I think I rode close to 12-13 miles today, heading to the House of Blues to pick up tix for Naked Raygun and then up to the Metro to pick up tix for Anti-Flag. So that's at least two shows to look forward to. I got home and needed a nap, which I took after showering and cleaning a few things up.
Laura called me this afternoon, and had just found out that her ex-boyfriend from a year or so ago was flying into town for her party tonight. I think she may have been going to ask anyway, but I volunteered to skip the party if that would be easier on her. She said that would be best since he would know everyone there and I would know maybe one other person. Intellectually, I know that I needn't be, but I can't help being a little jealous. I was looking forward to tonight, too, but that's alright; it's her party and I'll stay away if she needs me to. You would stay too if it happened to you. I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night, though, since Laura and I are planning to get together.
I went to Binny's tonight and stocked up on some cerveza; I think I grabbed a pint bottle of every different type of Young's they had. And some Tripel Karmeliet kits w/ glasses, so I can serve my fancy beer in style. I popped a bottle of Young's Old Nick and went to the park across the street, and took what I think is a cool picture of the downtown skyline behind my streetfront. Of course, the fucking connection to my computer isn't working, so until I either go to school or pick up a cardreader, you'll have to take my word for it.
I talked to Dani for half an hour or so, and was able to catch up on things, which is always good. I've always felt I could lay anything out for her I felt like talking about, and it's still comforting to have that, even if I don't need it.
Delroy Wilson is on the speakers right now, and I think the diphenhydramine I took is starting to kick in...
It wasn't until tonight I found out I was right.
I did need to re-fucking-lax. I did. And tonight was great.
I had dinner with Laura and we hung out and talked. And walked her puppy, and kissed her goodnight. Several times.
Ryan, you need to e-mail and tell me what's going on with you.
I had dinner with Laura and we hung out and talked. And walked her puppy, and kissed her goodnight. Several times.
Ryan, you need to e-mail and tell me what's going on with you.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Up with it came our pain and fear
A strange combination of clarity and exhaustion right now. Maybe I just need to calm the fuck down.
This was the only compensation for waking up at the ass-end of yesterday morning:
This was the only compensation for waking up at the ass-end of yesterday morning:
Eat your fucking heart out.
I don't know why every post lately has been titled with song lyrics. I think it may be reflective of my lack of good turns of phrase.
Morning's here.
I dreamt I was being chased by a gang of Evanston science geeks intent on beating me up before they'd let me into their clic. One of them was an old man. It was weird. There were several stages to this dream, but I have to leave the house now and can't go into them.
I do feel a little better this morning. Still emotionally labile, and edgy over Laura - but that's because I can drive myself crazy overanalyzing things.
I do feel a little better this morning. Still emotionally labile, and edgy over Laura - but that's because I can drive myself crazy overanalyzing things.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Momentum makes my head ponderous and heavy.
I'm in a really fucking shitty mood right now. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and the fucking camera I got yesterday won't connect with my computer. Well, it's more complicated than that; to see it work you'd think Canon's software wasn't running and that I had no photos on the camera to download. Fucking piece of shit. Well, the camera's cool, but I don't want to have to buy a fucking card reader for it. It's just making me cranky. I want to fucking cry.
I'm really, really tired. I need to sleep, and sleep. Today, I felt alright during the day, due to my diphenhydramine-induced coma last night. I think I shall repeat it tonight.
Laura sent me a bunch of text messages during my 8am lecture this morning. It put a smile on my face. We traded Rainer Maria lyrics once, and then I had "Planetary" in my head all day. It's funny; sometimes I get the feeling like she's too busy for me, and then she sends me a bunch of messages and calls me "sweetie" and tells me I must be a good dentist because I'm "gentle, personable, soft-spoken and cute." It's the cute that gets me. Right in the chest. But then I asked her this afternoon if she was still free tomorrow - as I'd asked Tuesday if she wanted to get together - and she said she wasn't sure.
I'm probably fucking myself in the head over this one. There's a whole treatise I could write on how past relationship patterns were out the window since the moment I met her, but I'm too goddamn tired. I guess my emotions would be much less labile, as well. Aaahhh, I'm sure I'd feel better if I were more well-rested. That's step one.
I'm really, really tired. I need to sleep, and sleep. Today, I felt alright during the day, due to my diphenhydramine-induced coma last night. I think I shall repeat it tonight.
Laura sent me a bunch of text messages during my 8am lecture this morning. It put a smile on my face. We traded Rainer Maria lyrics once, and then I had "Planetary" in my head all day. It's funny; sometimes I get the feeling like she's too busy for me, and then she sends me a bunch of messages and calls me "sweetie" and tells me I must be a good dentist because I'm "gentle, personable, soft-spoken and cute." It's the cute that gets me. Right in the chest. But then I asked her this afternoon if she was still free tomorrow - as I'd asked Tuesday if she wanted to get together - and she said she wasn't sure.
I'm probably fucking myself in the head over this one. There's a whole treatise I could write on how past relationship patterns were out the window since the moment I met her, but I'm too goddamn tired. I guess my emotions would be much less labile, as well. Aaahhh, I'm sure I'd feel better if I were more well-rested. That's step one.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
If this world blew up, I'd finally get a decent night's sleep.
Fucking shit, I'm tired. I hate riding the edge of collapse for days, like I feel I am right now. I need to find time to sleep. Make time to sleep. Exhaustion makes me unhappy and bitter and pessimistic, and I fuck my own shit up without even caring, and I really can't afford to do that right now. There's a sense of being on the cusp of important things, moreso even than slugging my way through school.
I feel like I'm too tired to carry on a conversation tonight. I was on the phone with Laura earlier and really felt like I couldn't think of anything to say half the time.
I told Liv earlier that I really need to sleep more. My exhaustion was really preventing me from focusing on my lectures today. Well, a little bit of it was the temptation of thinking about a certain person...
I feel like I'm too tired to carry on a conversation tonight. I was on the phone with Laura earlier and really felt like I couldn't think of anything to say half the time.
I told Liv earlier that I really need to sleep more. My exhaustion was really preventing me from focusing on my lectures today. Well, a little bit of it was the temptation of thinking about a certain person...
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
She looked at me and smiled; I know that smile's for me...
I swear there's some sort of dead animal in my furnace. Whenever the heat is on for a long time, my office/den/whatever-the-fuck-you-want-to-call-it room starts to exhibit the sickly and cloyingly sweet stench of decay. I've looked in there, but I can't find anything. It's a real off-and-on thing, though. I dunno. Weird as shit.
Laura was over after we went out for dinner for her birthday, and her mom wanted to talk to me on the phone. Her mother kept accusing me of being scared, asked me why I liked Laura, and when I said something about being smart and funny, she asked why I didn't say personality. Don't smart and funny refer to that? Why should I be vague? Anyway, the conversation went fine; it probably helped that I had a beer in me. She asked if I was funny, and I said I was "trembling with trepidation." (Once I pointed out the alliteration, Laura laughed) She asked if I had any tattoos or piercings; once I said no, she said I was okay.
I haven't even told my parents about Laura. I suppose I will the next time I have cause to talk to them; aside from my dad calling last weekend some time to ask if I needed new gloves - a 47 second call - I haven't talked to them. I'm sure they'll call within the next few days - my mom can't keep to herself for much longer.
Anyway, Laura and her friend Sarah headed out to celebrate, and I've really got to piss my two beers out. Due to the nap I took this afternoon, I'm not that sleepy, but after I shower, who knows? I'd like to be not exhausted tomorrow morning.
Danny's going to come on the Three Floyds ride on Sunday. I think I'm going to head up to Performance and pick up some good lobster mitt shells to go over my neoprene gloves, since it's supposed to be a freezing "wintry mix" on Sunday, according to the weather forecast. Should be fun.
My Symarip CD is done, and that's my cue to go.
Laura was over after we went out for dinner for her birthday, and her mom wanted to talk to me on the phone. Her mother kept accusing me of being scared, asked me why I liked Laura, and when I said something about being smart and funny, she asked why I didn't say personality. Don't smart and funny refer to that? Why should I be vague? Anyway, the conversation went fine; it probably helped that I had a beer in me. She asked if I was funny, and I said I was "trembling with trepidation." (Once I pointed out the alliteration, Laura laughed) She asked if I had any tattoos or piercings; once I said no, she said I was okay.
I haven't even told my parents about Laura. I suppose I will the next time I have cause to talk to them; aside from my dad calling last weekend some time to ask if I needed new gloves - a 47 second call - I haven't talked to them. I'm sure they'll call within the next few days - my mom can't keep to herself for much longer.
Anyway, Laura and her friend Sarah headed out to celebrate, and I've really got to piss my two beers out. Due to the nap I took this afternoon, I'm not that sleepy, but after I shower, who knows? I'd like to be not exhausted tomorrow morning.
Danny's going to come on the Three Floyds ride on Sunday. I think I'm going to head up to Performance and pick up some good lobster mitt shells to go over my neoprene gloves, since it's supposed to be a freezing "wintry mix" on Sunday, according to the weather forecast. Should be fun.
My Symarip CD is done, and that's my cue to go.
Monday, January 08, 2007
How's your fake life going?
I'm reading Mortified, this book Trish gave me for Christmas that is pretty much a compilation of journal or diary entries from years ago that different people submitted. There was one paragraph that was just spot-on:
I am so tired of fantasizing about all the conversations we could have and then fucking it up in real life. I wish I were as good in real life as I am in fake life.Thanks for the book, Trish.
I've got a socialism of the heart
I'm beat, but I was able to finish my presentation for tomorrow. I had one patient, and she failed - again. Plus one patient with a displaced wire, which I ingeniously stabilized. The technique was so simple and useful that I'm going to repeat it on other patients.
My chest has been trying to explode since this morning. Dana told me I look different today.
Laura left around 1:30 last night. It was totally worth it, but I was - and am - a bit tired today. Tonight I'm going to try to kick in early.
I had a bunch of shit kicking around in my the last few days that I wanted to get down, but I can't remember any of it at the moment.
Billy Bragg's "Upfield" is getting firmly lodged in my head.
My chest has been trying to explode since this morning. Dana told me I look different today.
Laura left around 1:30 last night. It was totally worth it, but I was - and am - a bit tired today. Tonight I'm going to try to kick in early.
I had a bunch of shit kicking around in my the last few days that I wanted to get down, but I can't remember any of it at the moment.
Billy Bragg's "Upfield" is getting firmly lodged in my head.
Their faces shown and they were gone and I was left alone
I walked these ancient empire streets 'till I came tearful to my home
And when I woke next morning, I vowed to play my part
I've got a socialism of the heart, I've got a socialism of the heart
Sunday, January 07, 2007
I must drink wine now
I headed out to school this afternoon to finish up the presentation Nyasha and I have to give next week. Thank fucking luck that Therese was there to bring up that I have my laser presentation to give in two days!
So the 45 minutes of work I thought I had turned into about 300 minutes of work. Laura called and is going to come over with a bottle of wine. I've been totally dehydrated and exhausted all day, it feels like. Feh.
So the 45 minutes of work I thought I had turned into about 300 minutes of work. Laura called and is going to come over with a bottle of wine. I've been totally dehydrated and exhausted all day, it feels like. Feh.
Yeah, I do kiss and tell. Is it really surprising?
Laura - the new Laura I met last week, not one of the three other Lauras I know - came over last night. She just left. I still have her menthol lip gloss on my lips.
Soaring...
Soaring...
Friday, January 05, 2007
We've got nothing better to do than watch TV and have a couple of brews
Torpor and apathy have taken hold of me. I was going to head up to Evanston for their Critical Mass, but after a nap and meeting my parents at Uncommon Ground for dinner, I'm just sitting in tonight, watching DVDs I borrowed from John. I was thinking of heading out to Delilah's for Elvis's birthday, but after last night's, ah, indulgence, I decided maybe that wasn't the best idea. Oh, if I had gotten ahold of anyone I wanted to ask to go with me, I'm sure I would've gone.
The girl I met last Sunday still hasn't returned the message I left on Tuesday. I don't know when I should let my hopes decay...She was friendly and smiling and gorgeous, and whenever I think about those moments I want to see her and talk to her again. And maybe another hug. And I know next to nothing about her. I'm either going to fly high or crash land.
Life is great.
The girl I met last Sunday still hasn't returned the message I left on Tuesday. I don't know when I should let my hopes decay...She was friendly and smiling and gorgeous, and whenever I think about those moments I want to see her and talk to her again. And maybe another hug. And I know next to nothing about her. I'm either going to fly high or crash land.
Life is great.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
"I found you in Hell. Don't you think I could find you in Jersey?"
After a pretty stellar first few hours of the New Year, today hit like a brick. Not a ton of bricks, though; just one. There were so many avoidable problems regarding equipment during my first patient appointment that it pissed me right the fuck off. Happy Fucking New Year's, now deal with last year's bullshit. Luckily the rest of the day went better. I threw off getting any non-clinical work done and came home early.
I rode home a little after four o'clock. It was still light out, which is a rarity for me. It was kind of nice. I really like the windbreaker I got for bicycling, although I found grease stains on it (as well as two of my couches!) earlier. Ah, well, stains add character.
Since I got home, I've pretty much been listening to Billy Bragg and cleaning my monkey nest. It's looking much better. Of course, I spent almost an hour on the phone with friends (which is kind of a rarity that I miss, now that I've been doing it again).
While I was cleaning, I kept coming across things that remind me of my cousin John. I saw the photo we took in Tremblant four years ago, when the whole family except him was there. He was healthy then, but still rarely spent time with the rest of us, it seemed. Most of the memories I have of him are childhood ones, before he became super-prep venture-capitalist.
I remember when I must have been two years old, and it must have been his seventh birthday party. December, 1980. I remember it was a wood-paneled restaurant, and I was asking my mom where John-John was. "Jon" is a term of endearment in Farsi, and this nickname - universally used in my family - meant "John, dear." I remember when I was barely five and he was nine, and we were at my maternal grandparents' farm in Minnesota. The first time I heard "The last one there is a rotten egg!" was when his fourth grade legs challenged my kindergarten legs to a race back to the farm house across ditches and open land. Needless to say, he kicked my ass in that race. That's the memory that came to mind at his funeral in July, and that's what I put into the memory book. I also found the card with waterfalls on the front that were available at the funeral. That's now posted in my kitchen doorway; the photo's tacky as hell, but it's something I have of him, as much of a commodity as it is.
I had a half-bottle of Riesling in the fridge; it was stoppered with the glass fish bottle-stopper from Ramin's wedding. John was the best man; I remember his speech was written down on notecards for completeness. I have absolutely no recollection of what he actually said.
Fittingly, the glass fish was involved in letting me get buzzed tonight. I was in Minneapolis when I found out John died, and I just wanted to get pissed. I met up with Phil that night (as previously planned) and was suitably distracted watching a cute girl in our group, and had a few beers without going overboard, thankfully. (I did get toasted on Mickey's on the flight to the funeral until the flight attendant took it away.)
I watched What Dreams May Come earlier while eating. Movie heaven is bullshit - but comforting bullshit, in the end.
I rode home a little after four o'clock. It was still light out, which is a rarity for me. It was kind of nice. I really like the windbreaker I got for bicycling, although I found grease stains on it (as well as two of my couches!) earlier. Ah, well, stains add character.
Since I got home, I've pretty much been listening to Billy Bragg and cleaning my monkey nest. It's looking much better. Of course, I spent almost an hour on the phone with friends (which is kind of a rarity that I miss, now that I've been doing it again).
While I was cleaning, I kept coming across things that remind me of my cousin John. I saw the photo we took in Tremblant four years ago, when the whole family except him was there. He was healthy then, but still rarely spent time with the rest of us, it seemed. Most of the memories I have of him are childhood ones, before he became super-prep venture-capitalist.
I remember when I must have been two years old, and it must have been his seventh birthday party. December, 1980. I remember it was a wood-paneled restaurant, and I was asking my mom where John-John was. "Jon" is a term of endearment in Farsi, and this nickname - universally used in my family - meant "John, dear." I remember when I was barely five and he was nine, and we were at my maternal grandparents' farm in Minnesota. The first time I heard "The last one there is a rotten egg!" was when his fourth grade legs challenged my kindergarten legs to a race back to the farm house across ditches and open land. Needless to say, he kicked my ass in that race. That's the memory that came to mind at his funeral in July, and that's what I put into the memory book. I also found the card with waterfalls on the front that were available at the funeral. That's now posted in my kitchen doorway; the photo's tacky as hell, but it's something I have of him, as much of a commodity as it is.
I had a half-bottle of Riesling in the fridge; it was stoppered with the glass fish bottle-stopper from Ramin's wedding. John was the best man; I remember his speech was written down on notecards for completeness. I have absolutely no recollection of what he actually said.
Fittingly, the glass fish was involved in letting me get buzzed tonight. I was in Minneapolis when I found out John died, and I just wanted to get pissed. I met up with Phil that night (as previously planned) and was suitably distracted watching a cute girl in our group, and had a few beers without going overboard, thankfully. (I did get toasted on Mickey's on the flight to the funeral until the flight attendant took it away.)
I watched What Dreams May Come earlier while eating. Movie heaven is bullshit - but comforting bullshit, in the end.
DInner and a movie
I'm eating a piece of lamb right now, and it's pretty cool to see the artery and vein I just cut through.
What Dreams May Come is making me cry.
What Dreams May Come is making me cry.
Monday, January 01, 2007
I've got one hundred resolutions, but I've got no solutions.
Woke up, it was the last day of the year.Four years ago, I joined my family in Quebec for skiing and multiple nights of fine dining over the holidays. I flew to New Jersey and was planning to drive up with Parvin, Paul, and my grandmother, but my dad forgot his passport and was stranded at LaGuardia the night before, so he drove up with us. Five people, skis, snowboard, and luggage packed into a landrover heading up I-87 toward Montreal. On the way up, I heard on the radio that Joe Strummer had died. After we hit the Canadian border, weather started to turn bad as the sun went down, and by the time we were past Montreal and on our way to Tremblant it was a whiteout. Still we kept on, slowly, and it cleared a bit and we made it OK. Parvin broke her leg skiing on Christmas Eve, which was also her birthday, and so I spent my New Years out in Jersey, helping her out with things.
People all around acting pretty weird.
Living off of memories and recalling their regrets,
Remembering the good and bad, planning their amends.
-Youth Brigade, "Last Day of the Year"
Three years ago, I spent the holidays with Marta's family in upstate New York. We spent two days at Hossein and Linda's in Andover, Mass., but left earlier than planned since my parents were being pretty bitchy toward Marta. On New Year's Eve, we spent the night at the house of one of her friends. We zipped two sleeping bags together and made one big bag. That's the only time I've ever done that.
Pop open a bottle of bubbly.Two years ago, I spent the holidays at home alone. I didn't want to go to my parents' in Oakland with my mom's side of the family there to annoy the shit out of me. I turned down an invitation to go out to Marta's family since I felt that was a bit too dishonest, considering I'd told my family I was on call and couldn't make it (although I could have). On New Year's Day, I picked Marta up at O'Hare. She really had nothing to say to me that whole day. I had no idea why. She appreciated the roses I got her enough to smell them, but she was just blank toward me after that.
Here's to another goddamn New Year.
And outside, two million drunk Bostonians are getting ready to sing "Auld Lang Syne" out of tune.
I sit there in my easy chair, looking at the clouds, orange with celebration,
And I wonder if you're out there.
-The Dismemberment Plan, "The Ice of Boston"
New Year's Eve was as boring as Heaven.Last year, I spent New Year's Eve at my parents' house in Oakland alone. I was way ready to come home. I got home late on New Year's Day, and although I was supposed to meet Dani that night, she couldn't make it, which capped a pretty disappointing week.
I watched flies fuck on channel eleven.
There was no one to kiss,
There was nothing to drink,
Except some old rotten milk someone left in the sink.
And there's no ringing, there's no ringing
On the phone anymore.
There's no reason to call;
I passed out on the floor.
-Alkaline Trio, "Private Eye"
I'm empty of answers,This year, I spent New Year's Eve watching about 5 hours' worth of Billy Bragg footage, and reading some creationist IDiocy for entertainment (although it did more angering than entertaining). I also went to the Metro to see the Smoking Popes and Alkaline Trio play. The Trio played From Here to Infirmary in its entirety, which was sweet. Even sweeter was this girl Laura who spontaneously wiped my sweaty face with the shirt in her hand, and gave me a kiss on the cheek for sharing water with her. We danced some, and got another peck after sharing more water. There was a time I was in the pit and again started doing the robot, only some other girl joined in this time. Awesome. After the show I asked if she wanted to get coffee sometime, and she took my number before I got hers. So we'll see where that goes. A pretty damn good New Year, hopefully, judging from its first few hours. Today I rode about 35 miles, including the rambling 20 with the Chicago Cycling Club ride up to Evanston. It's really only about 45-60 minutes up to Evanston, and maybe I'll have occasion to take advantage of that someday if I have to go up there.
Don't nobody search me.
The long-neck's a twist-off,
You don't need a church key.
I'm still full of questions
But can't quite see clear,
So twist off another
And bring on next year!
I'm always amazed
By what can take place
Within the space of three hundred,
Three hundred sixty-five days!
-The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "365 Days"
Another explosion of silence.
I think I'm going deaf,
Or maybe I'm just yelling less.
This year I'll try to only listen to myself.
This year I'll try not to think so much.
This year I'll try to stand up for myself.
This year I'll live like I've never lived before.
This is my year for sure.
-The Lawrence Arms, "100 Resolutions"
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