3:59 p.m. - 07/27/03
sing me a happy song.!.
So apparently, I'm incapable of finishing an entry these days. I mentioned the vast number I attempted during the days of poison (now, thankfully, a thing of the past), but even this morning, when I attempted to piece together an entry with the latest bits of news and nuisance, I only managed a short intro before once again succumbing to sleep. I am indeed having a very Sundayish day. I'm sleeping, crocheting, and reading Harry Potter (yes, the fifth book and yes, again) - the only novel capable of distracting me (all but) completely from whatever it is I don't want to journal about. Let's face it. Sometimes distraction is good. Sometimes a girl just doesn't want to go into all of the slings and arrows she's endurimg, especially at the precise moment she's enduring them. So I've decided to write a different catch-up entry. I'm going to tell you the handful of really happy things that have happened over this most recent bit of reticence.
To begin with, I got a really lovely note in my guestbook from someone who doesn't have a great deal of computer access right now, and that simple string of sentences lit my heart a little. Communication is so underrated, specifically when one lives in D!@#$%^ (or attempts to live in D!@#$%^.) Speaking of which, I received the loveliest postcard from Cameron. I love getting mail from her because she's one of the few people I know who writes letters specifically to write letters, instead of as an alternative to phone calls, e-mail, or in-person talking. Her writing doesn't sound like her speech or her e-mail, I mean; it sounds like letters sound in old novels or when penned (or rather typewritten, he has illegible handwriting) by my uncle, Jim. Plus, said postcard had all sorts of condemnation for D!@#$%^, something I appreciate. Though my mom gets on my nerves with it lately. She's finally come over to the, "I don't want to live here!" side of things; unfortunately, she can't make the house sell any faster because of it. I found out that my Diversity teacher, who is going to need a nickname simply because his first name is related to three people, and only three people, all of whom were bad news, lives in the exact section of the city we plan to move to...so I'm a bit compelled to say, "Do you have an extra room? A couch? A small spot on the floor? Please?" but mostly, I'm too confounded by the fact that, on top of all the other things we have in common, we're about to live in the same area. This after I'd given up on knowing him. Weird? A bit.
And the play that went up in NYC this past April made it into a festival in NYC this September! I'm feeling proud of this because it's not like they have a great deal of information about the piece outside of the script itself, and after the handful of blows (oh, wait, you don't know about that yet...damn) from my sister around writing, I felt a bit smug. Smug, damnit. I swear I'm developing a dangerous amount of self-esteem. Anyway, the festival is run by a group of women that Ruth was a part of before she moved, and who sound - from their e-mail - almost as cool as she's made them out to be. Now doesn't that rock? I may very well be in NYC in September, watching two more performances of the play - with a better male actor - and hanging out with people like Ruth. Exponentially sweet, that is.
My mom is up and that means I can borrow her credit card to buy Alix Olson's new cd from cdbaby. Me no have a credit card. Me have money enough for cd, but no credit card with which to purchase it. And that's the easiest way. So, I'll pay her, and she'll pay the bill. New Alix Olson. Yeay, yeay, yeay.
And now (I can't believe how long it has taken me to write about this) I met Britt! Weirdness of weirdnesses, that actually makes five on-line friends I've encountered in person. Oh, what tremendous debt I'm in to diaryland. And this fifth meeting was all cool, in keeping with the other four. I have yet to meet someone and not have a good time. That's a good sign about how well I check my comfort with someone before I meet them, I think. And in general, I just have a tendency to make the world's best friends. I told my mom this, and she said, "That's because you *are* a very good friend," and I just sort of nodded and brushed it away - not because I wanted to minimize it but because I still feel a bit egotistical when I realize that I actually do know that now. I actually know that part of the reason I have so many blessed relationships is because of who I am and how I treat these people. One day I will learn the difference between pure egotism and healthy self-love. In the meantime, I will tell stories about meeting girls that I have known for years but never seen, in malls I've walked since I was too small to see over the carts between stores. Oh, I know a story like that I can tell. I met Britt!
The only thing about it that was not entirely cool was that I was so nervous before seeing her. I focused really hard that morning on how I would not get anxious - because when I met sarahdela, I started off so painfully shy, and I didn't want to do that again. But then, I did. I did get all anxious, except, when I finally saw her and said hi to her, I didn't feel so anxious. Once we split off on our own, I felt significantly less anxious, and in no time at all, I was just having a good time. It reminded me of Silje's visit, which was also spent in a mall, and which also involved very little perusing of the mall itself.
She looks similar and different to the way I dreamed her once. It's odd, I guess, (and I'm not sure how to put this because weight is such a sensitive subject) but she was smaller than I'd imagined (I was actually surprised that she would be self-conscious about her weight, but I should know well enough that such things are relative) while everything about her was bigger. Her smile and her laugh and her conversation were all so uninhibited and lovely. I especially liked her laugh, which she gave generously, putting me at ease with the soft light of her voice. She had dark hair, which I also didn't expect, and which is instantly bonding (I grew up among thousands of cookie-cutter too-tan too-blonde clones). And the very few times that we stumbled onto a topic about which we disagree, our quickness to acknowledge it, smile, and say, "Diversity is good!" made the situation too amusing to feel awkward. So we don't look at everything the same way. That should be a problem, why?
Yes, I very much enjoyed the visit. We went into this store that, as I put it then, "looks exactly like how I would have decorated my room when I was ten...or...now" - i.e. lots of ostentacious vibrancy. Soft creations out of what looked to be feather-boa material, these lovely three-dimensional stars that hang from the ceiling and actually emit light, plus a bunch of clothes in which my sister would definitely indulge. (Paul Frank, Hello Kitty, all sorts of Sarah-wear.) They even had trolls, which I am dying to see return to the toy stores. And the staff was decidedly cool. Enough so that instead of deciding to boycott the store when (gasp) we spotted a *scale* near the front - some colorful contraption decorating it - I decided I'd come back often, get in close with the employees, and explain to them why they needed to remove that one item from their otherwise very cool store. I think that was the only place in which we saw any merchandise. After that my memories blur at the edges, and all I can see is Britt.
Oh, and there was one sucky moment turned cool which I can (for the latter reason) describe here. I was still somewhat poisoned Tuesday, when I saw her, though I was feeling mostly better. One of the evil, evil side effects of this med I was on is an increased predisposition toward heat exhaustion (which sucks because heat exhaustion is evil, and also because the only time I've ever experienced it - before taking this med - was after a seriously sick episode of over-exercise...therefore it reminds me of my eating disorder.) Anyway, to illustrate how much this med was not good for me, I managed to develop symptoms of heat exhaustion in the air-conditioned mall. What?! Yes. I developed heat exhaustion in the air-conditioning. I do not understand it. I barely understood it at the time, just knew I felt a little tired, weak, queasy, clammy, and so forth. Britt and I sat down - I didn't realize what was happening so I didn't mention it - besides the other topics of conversation were better - and then I realized I needed something to drink. Now here is the cool part: I bought myself a lemonade. That's supposed to be one of my most anxiety-ridden challenges, and I did it almost easily. We sat down again, and by the time I finished it, I felt much revived. I felt almost...normal. I also felt proud of myself, and pleased because this suggests something I remember seeing in only one other case: that when I need something a bit desperately, I can get it for myself. If I can do it when I'm desperate, I can do it when I'm not. So here I am, doing my best to order more and more things for myself, to get closer and closer to cashiers, to not let my mom run interference every time. But then, I've also been struggling a lot with depression and not wanting to do anything, so it's not, like, full-speed-ahead-recovery. It's shuffly-stepping, fall forward and jump back recovery as I know it. But hey, that's better than a lot of other things I know.
Oh, and did I mention how utterly cool her family is? Her mom was really nice to me, despite my dorkiness, and her siblings were both really cool. Her sister had this quality of intelligence that seemed almost more like street smarts, except it was in terms of bookish things. She had a very cool way of being smart, I guess. And her little brother absolutely grabbed me with his knowledge of Harry Potter, and his incredible talent at "savoring" the books. I've attempted to savor these books. I've never succeeded. This boy took two years to read Goblet of Fire - not because he's slow, because he was "savorng." I think he should be awarded a listing in the Guinness Book of World Records. Or a meeting with JK Rowling. Or something equally gigantical. Because that's just impressive.
Woot! Even my friends' families are cool. Yippy skippy. And when we parted ways (sob), I really felt like it was natural...like we needed to leave now, but I would see her again soon. And maybe a year from now (or something similar) isn't exactly soon *enough* but it was clear to me that this was not a one-time thing. And that's very cool. I used to think people were dead whenever they weren't with me. Believing I'll see them again strikes me as an improvement.
Now I need to get myself to Lindsey's. Not because she's the only on-line friend I haven't met (she's not) but because I've known her almost as long as I've known Julian and Cameron, which is a few years, and the fact that I haven't met her is bizarre and unappreciated. I want to hug my Lindsey, damnit! And I will.
In other news, I've never wanted to build the Rogers-like residence where everyone I love lives and grows and stays together more than I do right now. I just got a letter from Dixie who is doing what she needs to do (bless her), but having a hugely undeserved hard time. She said in the letter that I'm one of her best friends because I'm one of so few people she can tell basically anything and be understood. She's rarely open like that, and obviously the compliment was huge, and when Sara said almost the same thing on the phone today, I was like, "ok! ok, I'll find the money to buy a building where we can all live and look after ourselves and each other and not have to handle so much pain." Unfortunately, I don't have the money for a month's rent, let alone enough to purchase a residence. Damn lack of funding.
The call from Sara perked my heart up a bit. I knew it was her (by which I mean, I really thought it was her) as soon as I took the phone, and I think I was a little anxious for a moment because some of the things I haven't been able to type are things she and I talk about. But actually, I ended up really glad to talk with her and really glad that she called. She's only a couple weeks away from discharge, and wow, I know how terrifying that is. I talked to her about the couple of weeks before my discharge (which she wasn't there for), and some of what I wish I'd done differently, and mostly why she's strong enough to do this. How I can tell she's strong. How much I love her. That, as hellish as the near-future may look, we both know that there is a point in the future where we are close enough to hug each other properly...whether we're going to the same school or being roommates or something else entirely, this is a time we know will come. And so we have that to look forward to, as well as several bizillion phone calls still to come. She told me she has a gift for me from a Rogers outing; I think I cooed. I left it a surprise that I'm working out another package for her. I'm such a gifty person. I take forever to do what I want to do, and I prefer to do unexpected things at unexpected times (as in, not at holidays) ... but I seriously love making or picking out or putting together little somethings for important someones. Just thinking about the last package, and how she stood in the RC room, saying, "Ohmygod, look at this card," and "Ohmygod, look at this ring" lights me up a bit. I'm getting a better idea of what I want to do for her "last" (at Rogers) package...and I already found this really lovely card. Yeay.
I also found a card I plan to put up on my wall. It says, "Wear some cool boots. Cool boots make you feel like you can handle anything. (Or at least kick it really hard.)" which is very much in keeping with my feelings lately. In fact, I put gelled insoles in my boots to see if I can wear them without acquiring blisters. I want to wear them mainly because I want to stomp on things. I want to stomp on things mainly because I hate my parents' marriage and I hate my parents' divorce and I hate not being at Rogers. Also, I hate D!@#$%^. If any of that is news to you, I suggest you check your reading comprehension ability.
Mary loves her home and hates her houses. Alert the media.
Oh, but, this was supposed to be an entry mainly about what I love and what is good, and I have a person and a story to fit each of those categories. Remember Shannon? Brilliant, sweet girl with words like every stage of butterflies? Well, the past six months of this journal have been brought to you by Shannon, and the impending six months of this journal will be brought to you by Shannon, and I've decided - rather than beating myself up for some low-self-esteem reason - to just feel the love that comes with such a generous present. Whee.
I'm probably forgetting happy things, but that seems to cover it at the moment. So...um... Go hug Jen. Even if it requires parentheses to do so. Go on.
(Please.)
chord <--who is going to keep her word and call Rogers before the 31st
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