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8:55 p.m. - 02/16/03
miss live and let live.
Starting with the good news: The 28 hours or so that I spent alone this weekend went more smoothly than any alone-time I remember. Despite my experience with isolation, I've continued to feel like a traumatized five-year-old whenever I'm alone after dark. Last night, there was almost none of this. No anxiety, no obsessive worrying. Nil. Perhaps not quite nil- maybe a second or two of the type of thoughts that usually keep me awake for hours, before I brushed them aside. But dark came and continued without much response from me, something odd and altogether comforting. I always shut down after "too many" hours alone. I always shut down, alone after dark. I haven't been able to attend a sleepover without doing so less than five times in my entire life. I rarely manage this at home. And I know- you understand, you get it, I don't have to keep emphasizing it, but at a time where I'm so down on myself as this, to do so well on my own was a real accolade.

I didn't do much with the day yesterday, which is what I needed. Crash. The only schoolwork I completed was my hilarious sociology assignment: watching the Breakfast Club. I balanced this by going through World War II twice today (ah, the glory of two history classes), which is especially uncool on the brink of WWIII. Aigh. I don't even want to go into Mary's thoughts on the current political situation...so...I won't.

Just as I was getting ready to settle in for some hard-core vegging, Sarah called and bitched a little about how she needed a rewrite of the last scene tonight so they could use it at tomorrow's rehearsal. The conversation was crazy awkward, and I just sort of winced when we ended it. After a few seconds of looking at the play, though, I called her back to clarify some things, and that conversation went much better. My experience the past few days with Sarah is the more that I introduce her (through inclusive action, not something like the name) to who I am and how I think, the better things go. Part of what's creating problems in our relationship now is that she's always taken the reigns, so I need to not expect her to do that here. I need to make it *my* priority to help her know who I am. I can be grateful for that responsibility. I can be grateful that with Sarah, as opposed to with my parents, I feel safe starting to show who I am. Even if I'm simultaneously jealous of her for seeing Sleater-Kinney while I was bent in front of a monitor muttering to myself about relational inconsistencies between characters. I did manage a rewrite and a string of notes (which I had to write twice thanks to the glory of Yahoo- the same Yahoo that didn't send my check-ins to Dr. R)* before settling in for Daria. I also caught the end of "But I'm Not a Cheerleader" on IFC. I've heard very mixed reviews of that movie, but the scene I saw was absolutely adorable. Something about the lead girl's voice or perhaps the fact that the first girl to be my everything spent significant time cheerleading. (I enjoy dropkicking stereotypes. I was good friends with a cheerleader who hardly fits the common prototype. Rock.)

So, yes, pages of revisions yesterday followed by a phone call this morning from Sarah where she was painfully quiet. "I don't even want to know," I said. "I don't even want to hear what you're going to say.

"What do you think I'm going to say?" she asked.

"Oh...that you want me to rewrite the beginning," I joked, and then realizing the actual cause for her call: "That you're using the original draft."

"Yes," she said, sounding a bit sheepish. "The second one." This is particularly amusing because after vicious rewrites (at her request) on Flower Arrangement, she pulled back the reigns and chose to use the original draft. I decided not to strangle her because I enjoyed working with the characters again, and because something about how Sarah doesn't instantly understand my plays (which are, granted, not always easy to understand) feels good to me. I like that I have tricks up my sleeve. And I like that, after doing what she wants, she always realizes what I chose was better. And eventually, we're going to be in a proximity where we don't need to do what she wants. At this point, the rewrite was still a good thing because the bare-bones script I came up with (we call these the "scooby doo versions") helped everyone involved to really understand what they're trying to achieve with the scene as it was first written. Plus, after that enlightenment, everyone started whining that they really liked the original ending, and they didn't want to lose it, and if people care about the characters and the words that deeply I'm even more excited for April. Ok, not entirely excited considering that it means time away from the doc which seems impossible now (but hey, there are *months* in between), but nonetheless a little pumped. Mostly about who I'll see when I'm there. But also hoping the play will strike the right chord with me. I've never liked a script before. I like this one somewhat, though of course, not as much as the one I'm working on now. Damn artistry.

So time not exactly wasted last night; a few of the changed lines will make their way into the original script, either in addition or to replace the lines that were. Sleep, waking, several hundred feet of snow, parents safely home but slightly traumatized, several dictators taking lives away, really good music, and crocheting. (A band-aid on the blister has kept me in business, though I have once again used up my supply of Good Yarn. I go through it much more quickly now that I can make something that doesn't unintentionally become a parallelogram or a triangle.) The second trip through WWII left me pretty overwhelmed by boredom. (I wish I'd alternated with a different subject, but, you know, I didn't.) I wanted to do something that would really be just for me, but had the scary experience of not being able to think of anything. What do I do when I just want to do something? I didn't know. I didn't feel like journaling quite yet, I've been avoiding sf, and was too antsy to read. I didn't feel like working on my Redling sketches, which are so near-and-dear to me, they can be painful...I was running out of ways I pass the time. I finally ended up turning on more of the aforementioned good music and cleaning/ decorating my room just a little. And now I'm here, and I'm still a little saddened by the reality that I don't know myself well enough to think what I would like to do.

The one thing I thought of was, "I like to make lists." So, what do you think you're in for, you lucky, lucky kiddles? Woot. A list.

100 Completely Random Things You May Not Have Known About Mary

1.) I haven't been to the ocean in four years, and I miss it.

2.) I think mix tapes are better than valentines.

3.) I think Valentine's Day stopped being fun when it stopped involving decorating a shoebox and showering people with paper cartoons. However, I've never had the Valentine's Day blues ascribed to people not in relationships.

4.) The first few times I heard Fiona Apple, I thought she was awful. I grew to love her later, after seeing a dance piece to two of her songs plus one of Loreena McKennit's, and once my oldest brother told me I'd have to hate her if I'd heard a speech she gave about winning awards simply because she's thin. (He thought I wouldn't like her because she has an eating disorder.) I just thought it was bizarre that he even mentioned that, but several years later, when I developed an eating disorder, I struggled much more with the fact that I liked her, before finally understanding that it was ok.

5.) My oldest brother also made a joke about bulimarexics once (before I was sick) and I can still recite it to this day. I never remember my brother's jokes, but this one beats up my heart pretty often.

6.) I love chocolate shakes and smoothies.

7.) I don't believe in war. Even when there's a threat like Sadaam Hussein. Even when I feel guilty for not being gung-ho about the US intervening. I can't make myself support anything that will involve more people experiencing what I consider the worst thing ever.

8.) I consider grief and loss the worst thing ever.

9.) In fourth grade, I achieved a very special position which allowed me to escape class in order to make copies. I loved the warmth of the copies and the time alone in the otherwise-forbidden teacher's lounge. I loved being singled out for that task.

10.) My fourth grade teacher also revised her curriculum for me so that I could write while most kids were reading. I already read too much for my own health, and this allowance gave me time every day to work on my stories.

11.) I always loved my brother John very, very much, and I was scared to death the day an accident nearly killed him. But I was still pissed later that summer when my mom wouldn't take us swimming because John (whose arm was slowly recouperating from significant nerve damage and in a cast) couldn't go.

12.) One night when both our parents and all three older siblings were gone, I freaked out because I didn't think I could finish a project by the next morning. (Procrastination is not a newly-acquired practice for this girl.) And John stayed up with me for hours, telling me funny stories to keep me calm while I worked. When I finished, I wanted to go to bed, but he kept telling stories because by that point he was the anxious one. He didn't want to sleep without anyone older home, kind of like I never want to do so now.

13.) I was raised to believe something was morally wrong with anyone who liked Pepsi better than Coke.

14.) I was raised to believe there was something morally wrong with anyone who wasn't at least a Democrat, if not more liberal than that.

15.) During the course of her relationship with my dad, my mom went from working to become a nun to considering becoming a Wiccan priestess to establishing a spirituality all her own.

16.) My dad went from working toward the priesthood to being a massage therapist back to working for the church.

17.) I absolutely loved the movie Fly Away Home when it came out. I thought Anna Paquin was God.

18.) I can recite several musical cast recordings, and do- even when people would rather I didn't.

19.) The same chills that I get at something really brilliant I get at significant struggle. I used to have goosebumps as a kid when classmates who struggled to read aloud were picked to do so. There was something really impressive to me about that.

20.) I've only read one Babysitter's Club book, and I thought it was a waste of time.

21.) I've only read one Goosebumps book, and the cousin who made me do so paid dearly.

22.) I spent more time reading quality literature like the Boxcar Children (the first book is by far the best) and the Ramona books. And then classics, from the time my sister hit high school. I was a book fiend.

23.) The test I took in first grade to see if I was gifted was an oral exam given in a small storage closet. I could pass on any question I felt like passing on, and I beat myself up for years because I chose to pass on "How many days are there in the week?" when of course, I knew that one.

24.) I knew I wanted to play clarinet years before I was old enough to take band.

25.) I still find it hard that I can't play now like I could in junior high. Fucking anxiety stole away my breath. Somewhat permanently, at least when it comes to woodwinds.

26.) I had a therapist before Judie, but I only saw her once because she was crazy.

27.) I don't think there's a person on earth who couldn't benefit from therapy (with someone good.) And I don't think you should have to be mentally ill or struggling desperately to do so.

28.) I secretly think the 90s are cooler than the 80s, even though that's sacrilege to most people I know.

29.) I tried to look AIDS up in the dictionary once because I had no idea what it meant. It wasn't listed.

30.) I was and always will be a total Skip-It addict.

31.) As a small child, I hated Barney because he changed Lamb Chop's time slot, and Lamb Chop was my favorite show. As an older child, I hated Barney because he was freaky in a very uncool way. But I still wanted my sister to sing the "sisters" song they sang on the show.

32.) I've had strawberry shortcake on my birthday far more than I've had any other kind.

33.) My favorite holiday was always Christmas Eve.

34.) I prefer my real birthday to the one that's coming up.

35.) I have planned, seriously, at certain points in my life, to run away.

36.) I would like to beat my former guidance counselor over the head with her copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul.

37.) The religious group I have the hardest time accepting is Christians. It used to be athiests but I understand that much better now. And I like a bunch of Christians; I've just been traumatized by quite a few more.

38.) I still love Jenna.

39.) I wonder about Billy. I wonder who he is, how he is, what we were, if what happened is my fault. I still have the letter he wrote me. I still remember bits of the e-mails I've erased.

40.) My parents know nothing about Billy or Jenna or several other significant people in my life. I quit telling my parents what was going on in my life very, very early.

41.) I've been called an angel and told I'm going to hell almost an equal amount of times.

42.) I almost never think I'm poison anymore.

43.) I still cry if I think about Rogers too much. But when I read the first few entries at this journal, I want to back and hold myself and tell her it will be alright. If only I could have said, "It's the first week. It won't be like this forever" without minimizing the ways in which it would (and will.) This is a "duh" thing that you certainly know about Mary but Rogers was my first home, and there's something hugely significant about that.

44.) Dr. R officially knows the most about me of any professional I've ever seen. For a long time, even Harriet knew more than he did (but I told her for lesser reasons.)

45.) My favorite character on Ghostwriter was Lenni, hands down.

46.) If more of the episodes were released on videos I would honestly buy them. I would buy merchandise if it existed. The ensuing madness would seriously be equivalent to my sister's Hello Kitty addiction.

47.) My cousin Anna lived with us when I was in third grade. I feel closest to her of all my cousins, even beyond those that I was close friends with as a kid.

48.) I would really like to be able to talk to people I'll likely never see again.

49.) I value integrity beyond almost any other character trait. I think integrity is reduced to verbal honesty far too often, and people lose track of what it means to live honestly. And I think I sound pretentious when I say that.

50.) I have serious grammar pet-peeves, despite the fact that I never adhere to them. Or should I say, "I have serious grammar pet-peeves that I never adhere to."

51.) I strongly considered making this into a fifty item list.

52.) The best character on Mr. Rogers is Daniel Striped Tiger. Ugga Mugga, Daniel.

53.) I have several issues left to work through, despite how many I've already healed.

54.) I will never again eat barbecued tofu.

55.) I'm worth more than I know but not more than I ever will.

56.) I wish I wrote in nourish more, and I wish more people loved her.

57.) I regularly check to see who lists this journal as a favorite, and I'm happy that I have nearly as many people listing her as atomgirl. I'm happy because I really wanted when I started this to be as popular in health as I was in sickness. The love for sickness-journaling at Diaryland scares me (though I don't think it was exactly that which drew readers to Atoms. At least, not from what I've heard.)

58.) I've been at this journal over a year, but I still feel like I'm "Atoms" and I never use the name Chord outside this forum.

59.) I can't stand belittling, and never could - even in my worst shame spaces.

60.) I've done crazy athletic thing like climb high into the air and woke across swinging logs before jumping off a ledge and flying down a wire. And I've enjoyed them.

61.) I used to love bubblegum ice cream. Now I love cookie dough. I prefer ice cream with lots of junk (i.e. toffee, brownie, choc chips, etc) in it. Varying textures are good.

62.) I'm still a little squirmy when writing a statement like the preceding one, but a year or two ago, I wouldn't have even been able to type it.

63.) I have so. much. stuff. from when I was a Rogers. Sketches and clippings and yarn and craziness. So many things.

64.) I would still go back if it were an option. I would still go back to stay there.

65.) I think Dr. R knows at least as much as I do about the possible secret.

66.) I think, if it is what I've been talking about in here, he will handle it better than anyone I've ever seen. Hands down.

67.) Still, I feel bad for all the crap I gave Dave. Dave did a hell of a lot of good for me. (Like teaching me to say "hell of a lot" and other choice words.)

68.) I e-mailed Winter Machine to gush shamelessly and thank them for saving my life. I haven't heard back.

69.) As dark as my pain has been, I have had friends bright enough to balance it- and actually to blow it out of the water. Not to say they can heal what I go through, but I have been blessed with people better than any I could imagine.

70.) But then again, I consider the characters I "imagine" friends. Or if not friends, at least real. Our relationships vary.

71.) One of several reasons I was considered "weird" in Neverland was because I could recite several poems at will. In response to this, I memorized more.

72.) I miss him like hell, but my relationship with my uncle grew more personalized after he moved to California.

73.) Said uncle is a huge influence on my life, even though we communicate pretty rarely. I mean, he's the one who made me read Harry Potter. Nuff said.

74.) Actually, he's one of the two. Chas also pressured me to read HP. This is far from the top reason Chas is a choice woman.

75.) I used to draw really well, but it's gone the way of my clarinet playing. Sob.

76.) I used to use a stuffed bear to help prop up my head when I was sick and couldn't breathe right. Each night before I did this, I would ask him if it was ok. His name is Furry, and he's always been very accomodating.

77.) The med I was prescribed on Valentine's Day is pink. That's just a little much.

78.) I don't watch any "must see TV" show. I liked Will and Grace when it first came out; now, it disturbs me. I think the good of that show is about as murky as the good of black actors who played the original sterotypical roles written for them in 30s movies/ television.

79.) I feel weirdly connected to Amelia Earhardt and Eva Peron. (But I don't delude myself into thinking they're my past selves or something.)

80.) I'm sometimes annoyed by ideas my friends take for granted I'll agree with.

81.) I can't think of any reason I would like to go back to Neverland. (Though there are a few reasons I would do so, if circumstances dictated.)

82.) I want to know the secret details of Dr. R's life and history, but I'm grateful that I don't. At least for now.

83.) I only recently saw (just parts of) the movie adaptation of Effect of Gamma Rays, and I hated it.

84.) My favorite color was purple, then green, and now oceanic blue-green.

85.) This is the year of my birth. That means I'll be 18 soon. I'm working on being ok with that.

86.) I'm sometimes saved by e-mails I still don't manage to respond to.

87.) I read a story on a list-group once that I would give a great deal of ...something... to find.

88.) I don't believe everyone is bisexual or that sexual orientation is a form of prejudice, though I did have these sorts of thoughts at one point.

89.) I still don't know how to feel when people tell me I'm thin. Mistrandy started talking about how small I am just the other day. I still have no idea how to take that.

90.) There are lots of people the current-me would like to hit on behalf of past-mes.

91.) I'm absolutely floored that I've gotten this far.

92.) I really don't like candy corn, and I've only recently been able to eat coconut without choking and spitting and raising a fuss.

93.) I would be an idealist even if I knew for certain that the world could never evolve to that ideal. I would still want and work for the best.

94.) I don't like boxes, but I don't mind labels. I don't like to be limited by my identifying traits, but I enjoy feeling a sense of connection to groups.

95.) I find Dr. R's office really amusing. It's the stereotypical dark walls and dark leather furniture, with the bookcases full of medical literature. But then there's a Pooh and Piglet sculpture on the shelf, and some kid-drawings taped to the wall. It's lovely.

96.) I wish he could see my room. I wish I could have it decorated the way I want it, or get the courage (and permission) to paint the walls something other than white. I've never had walls that weren't white.

97.) I'd rather wear glasses than have 20/20 vision.

98.) I'm terrified of bugs 1-millionth my size.

99.) That "take good care of my baby" song has amazing power to make me feel better. It's my "maybe far away."

100.) I consider this time well-spent.

But I am spent as well; therefore, it's off to bed with me, though perhaps a bit of music or reading before I conk completely. Tomorrow, sociology, diversity, or a physics essay (a physics *essay?*) awaits. And if I want to do something fun-for-me I will come up with a better solution. I know myself better than this entry would imply.

love-
chord, who's made of atoms

*I sent them again, only to follow it up with an e-mail asking him not to read it, after Friday's session; yeah, I'm decisive.

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