if i'm overwhelmingly not wanted, then maybe i should just accept that and not even try. clearly.

i hate being mocked.

I can't stop writing -- it's as if there's still something I need to get out, but haven't reached it (you) yet, haven't bubbled over with clarity. So instead I will write for the sake of writing and hope it spills out. Theraputically, if you will. Unwind while people imbibe 10 feet away. Whatever.


Charlene walked to the door, wondering what lay just beyond the cracked wood rectangle. Peering into the dimly-lit hallway, Charlene wondered how everything had reached this point -- with a dead body hanging in the closet, her parents in Mexico, and she in the middle of this emotionally charged apartment. She let the stranger standing at the door, staring at her as if omniscent, into the muddled room. The stranger unlocked Charlene's soul in the five minutes he gazed sharply into her eyes, her mind, her being. He spoke to her in otherworldly ways, ways involving the heart (not the mind), the pulse, the burst of well being that comes from being in the presence of a person such as this stranger. He told her to ignore the threats of her own unconscious, of her self confidence (or lack thereof, poor Charlene), of her critical surroundings. He told her to battle the death in the closet, the death of the dying dreams she burried in the back of her mind always expecting to ressurect them but feeling the guilt of knowing she wouldn't. He had a nice smile. He said she was nice. And that made her cry.

The chatter from the depths faded away, signaling that the drunken bodies strewn across the parque floor would soon be ready once again to reinvest themselves in the practice of hiding the unforgiven and forgetting their calling.

::at least it makes sense to me::

I'm bursting inside, to shout
"AAAAAAAAA"

You suck
and I don't care

::thisheartcantwontbecontained::

It is Friday night, there's a party in the big room, and I am in here avoiding people. Because that's what I do, avoid people.

Today. Was. Well, full. I don't feel as much personal satisfaction from small group as I used to. I really like the topics we discuss and everyone's opinions, but I need more -- I need someone like my dad, someone I can just rapid-fire questions at and have an answer returned as quickly. I need to be challenged, almost, to really probe my questions, my reactions, my faith; I feel as though I'm languishing in belief, building a relationship, but not feeling completely like I'm doing what I'm supposed to. I can't discern if I feel like I need to share my beliefs, or if it's just that I'm bored with my surroundings (new, anyone? anything new?) and displacing that boredom.

But now, I have my pretty candle with the glass shade thing burning, filling my tiny little room with a wonderfully delirious scent that is making me feel heady.

I have been very frustrated the past 72 hours, about several particular things. Namely, my leadership ability, future of things important to me (though mocked by others), feeling gyped, and feeling disparaged. After talking to Danielle tonight, I feel much better about the first two and almost mad about the last. I feel as though I've been counted out for this particular thing -- the assumption has been made that I'm not it; not that I'm not qualified, but that it's just not for me. Reflection has brought me to the thought process that no, I will not roll over and accept something that casts my place for me. No, I won't complacently let my dreams be squashed. Only I can do that. So, I'm going to bring it, if you will. And we'll see how "unique" your experience and talents are. And how "unimportant" and "irrelevant" mine are. I just hope gender doesn't play a role; that would make me feel cheated.

Sometimes I think my zeal for certain things causes me more stress than its worth. PCGB, for example. Oye. Let's not get into that now.

I cannot wait until tomorrow evening. Danny and Hanson are coming -- aaaaaa!! I'm estatic and only slightly nervous that they have a good time. Whatever, we'll all be together again so anything will be fun. They're just...sigh...the best.

I hate feeling like I don't have control over my hours, as if I'm just going through the motions of my life. I've complained about this before, I guess. I keep telling myself it'll all change soon, but since when did I start living for the future and forget to pay attention to the right now? Right now, I miss J. Sadly. Madly. It's as if part of me is missing, part of me is in another state, and part of me is missing me too.

When did you become me and meyou? When did I become we and me was okay with that?

I want to be everything. I was once told that it's possible. To want everything and nothing all at once. To want love and sadness. To want shelter and a medal. Have you ever wanted it all? You can't have it now.

::conflicted::pained::happyinheranonymity?::

Two people, not seeing each other
but knowing the other is there

This past week was just great. Wonderful. It was exactly what Spring Break should be -- relaxing, spent with friends, and a time to try something new and different to remind me that the outside world exists.

K and I went to the City (as Andrew pointed out today, shaking his head "New York City is so conceded, like they're the ONLY city out there. Sheesh!") on Monday to be part of The View's audience. We got lucky because we went on a day that Barbara Walters was there, too. The set was so much smaller in person than it looked on TV. I guess that follows what people say about stars being shorter in person than they look on the big (or little) screen. Shannon Doherty, ways to fix your house up to sell it for more money, and the latest in home exercise video were the featured segments; all were entertaining, but the neatest part was, of course, actually being there and seeing the camaras work, figure out their best angles, seeing the stars do their thing and engage the viewer. The ladies were all really nice, down to earth people who wanted to connect with the audience. They all seemed so appreciative that each person had decided to show up for the show, they came into the stands and talked to everyone, answering questions, joking around. One of the best parts, though, was before the show even started, when the crowd-pumper-upper tried to get the audience excited about the show and teach us when to clap and stand, etc. She brought down a couple middle-aged women from the audience and 2 of the 7 men who were there to the center aisle, had the sound man put on some thumping, bass-filled music and had these ladies shake and saunter down the aisle. It was hilarious. K, her sister, and I were probably some of the youngest people there by far.

After our early morning Viewing (hahaha), we went to the South St. Seaport for some shopping (check out that alliteration. Booya. Haahaha...oh DX) and eating and massive sugar rushes, and then onto every girl's favorite, Bloomingdales. It amazes me to watch people go through the process of figuring out which $600 shirt to buy. IT'S A SHIRT. TO WEAR. Even if I were (Smelly, is that the right tense?) disgustingly, $600-shirt rich, I would still choose to shop at Express and Target, thank you very much. Insanity! No wonder the gap between the rich and poor in the world is ever widening, what with snooty rich white people buying $600 shirts that were made by people in Indonesia being paid 5 cents a day. Oye.

Anyway, after that we went to Serendipity, this really good cafe that is famous for their "Frozen Chocolate," which was essentially a frozen hot chocolate. The three of us just about OD'd on chocolate, by getting one frozen chocolate, one hot, a mousse, and a "Forbidden Broadway" sundae. Man oh man. It was pretty close to heaven.

Speaking of heaven, I read The Da Vinci Code (by Dan Brown) Sunday and Monday last week (K and I decided to just go to Monkey Joe's, one of her local Kingston coffee shops -- that sells fair trade coffee! wuhoo! -- to finish reading our books, instead of doing something much less dorky). The book was so very good. I recommend it to everyone. It wasn't as thought-provoking to me as Life of Pi, by Yann Martel, or Death Be Not Proud (John Gunther), or The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho), but it was still thoughtful, just in a different way. I didn't feel as if the book was challenging to my beliefs or faith. If anything, I was caught up in the fearful emotions mysteries set fire in me (I once was afraid that Hercule Poirot, or however his name is spelled, of Agatha Christie's masterful mystery work, was hiding under my bed. I don't have nightmares about the boogie man under my bed, no sir, I worry about the protagonist-gone-bad hiding there) and my desire to find out what happened next in the plot. I found the ideas presented utterly fascinating. K and I even rented Indiana Jones and the Search for the Last Crusade to get more grail-legend stories. As I explore what I think about all the religious implications of the novel, maybe I'll share here :) Hey, and if it's slightly controversal, maybe someone will comment with their thoughts on it too!

In the rockin' town of Kingston (90 miles north of "the City"), K and visited her high school, the FDR house and Vanderbilt house in Hyde Park (across the river), went on lots of tours of the town (which I thoroughly enjoyed :) ), went to the mall (anchor stores: Fillene's, Sears, JC Penney, and Target. How cool is that?! AND, there's a CVS in the mall!), played poker, and went skiing on Friday. Skiing was very cool, and since I've only ever been skiing in North Carolina, I was amazed at the length of the trails, the sheer number of trails, the abundance of ski lifts, the quality of the snow (prolly cause it was realy snow; it even flurried while we were skiing!); I only fell once, and it was a grand fall -- I grabbed onto a tree to prevent from sliding further down the mountain uncontrolled. As K and I concurred, I don't think I could go skiing for more than 2-3 days in a row, it seems like it would get boring. Hmm.

Saturday was interesting because of interesting conversation, but oh-so-sad too. My beloved Yellow Jackets lost to Duke and made me want to cry. Why?! Why?! I might be going this weekend to Milwakee (or however that's spelled) to see Tech in the first round of the NCAA tourney. Wuhoo!

I have to go do real work now, and end this enthralling day-to-day account of my last week. Happy Tuesday, World!

I'm not sure I'm totally happy about not really being at home for more than a week or so this summer...sigh. We shall see, no?

Oh! Oh! I almost forgot: yesterday in the car on the way home from church, the Nine Days song that is the inspiration for the line in my heading, next to my picture (not the Counting Crows line, the one under that), came on the radio! I was stoked, I hadn't heard it in so long. Ah...

I rushed through the swinging glass doors, looking very determined, but the salesman still walked up to me, "Can I help you find something?" His purposefully gentle voice told me he thought I was lost in his venue.

I told him I was looking for stainless steel screws. He pointed me in the right direction, but I already knew where they were because I had been to the store a month prior to buy nylon and stainless steel hinges.

Then I realized I left my sample threading in the car, so I walked out, with him staring suspiciously at me, just knowing that I had shoved something of value from the shelves into my pockets. I mumbled something to him about "I forgot something in the car, I'll be back in just a minute."

I hurried to go back in, fully expecting him to come out after me from the store saying "Ma'am, would you mind if I just peaked in your pockets?" But I got back to aisle 4 without duress. I picked out what I needed (36 3/8" stainless steel screws of various lengths and a bottle of 205 epoxy resin) and went to the counter to pay.

"Does the person you're buying this for have a West Marine or Boater's World card?"

Um, actually, sir, I am buying these items for myself, for a research project I'm working on at this local little school you might have heard of, Georgia Tech? Maybe. Well, I mean I only work on it after I've curled my hair and applied my makeup of course, and I don't touch the greasy parts, so I guess I can ask the person who does all the work if they have a card or something.

"No, sorry I don't have a card." I conceded, "My dad has one, though, I think."

My dad's card didn't come up in the computer, so I paid and went on my way, feeling once more like older men need to wake up to the world that is evolving around them. It's no longer a world in which the only reason I'd be at the boating store is if I was along with my Pa or Hubby. In fact, I bet I'm the one doing the boat shopping; I rather like looking at the gadgets in the store, thank you very much.

I guess it's just changing one person's stereotypes one day at a time.

New goal: to write about interesting daily conversations. Like today, with Mike, who I see every day but hardly ever really talk to. You know what I mean.

He's going around the four corners area with friends for spring break, hiking and biking. It sounds so cool! People, every person, is so interesting once you scratch the surface. I love that about humans, it's what makes me feel like there will always be adventure in my life as long as I'm always talking to people. Really talking.

So Mike was telling me that he used to be in the cycling club here (which, once he said it, made perfect sense because just minutes before I was noting that his legs had the shape of someone's who is in a non-typical sport), but he hasn't touched a bike in 1.5 years. I hope he has fun, and doesn't break anything.

I need to get better at telling stories too. Man oh man.

Jody told me that I'm too overdramatic here: "You wrote about 50 First Dates as if it was Gone with the Wind or something."

Yea, I guess that's true. But that's why it's here, and not coming out of my mouth for people to laugh at me. Here I can pretend that I'm the only one who sees my thoughts; I write more out of a need to preserve my state of mind for reflection later, to see how far my life has come and how my emotional responses have evolved, and it's easier to type than write (although writing in my paper journal does give a certain feeling of satisfaction, of "ah"-factor).

Anyway, I think everyone is like this to a certain extent, melodramatic in your heard, uberemotive and smooshy. As long as I never start talking like that around other people, except maybe for "deep" conversations with a hot chocolate warming my hands, than I think it's perfectly a-ok. So there.

tonight was kind of strange. i don't know exactly why, but it just felt out of place. or, I felt out of place. I felt like I was back in high school, but not in a good I'm-with-Danny-and-Hanson sort of way. Hrm.

Tests await. Goodnight, big, beautiful, potential-filled world!