Wednesday, April 1, 1998

I don't know how this could have happened... I think I am pregnant. I have always been so careful, but lately... I have been a little out of control. I am not even sure who the father is.
FUCK FUCK FUCK. How could I be so stupid? The pregnancy test I bought could have lied, or maybe it's just because... I have been stressed so much that I skipped my last couple of periods and I thought it was just because of mom.
I don't want to have an abortion, but what's the alternative? I wanted so desperately to go to Europe this summer as well. FUCK. What am I going to do?
I can't stand it anymore... I know I shouldn't kid about this kind of thing, but april fools.
Had you going there for a second, didn't I? I'm not that stupid. I would never get pregnant. If I'm fucking neurotic about my skin, how fucking neurotic do you think I am when it comes to fucking? And without a condom? Only with Andy because I am the only girl he has ever been with. Men carry some kind of virus on their dick that doesn't do anything to them but can cause cervical cancer in women and that shit just grosses me out. I don't want any kind of cancer if I can help it.
I laid out in the sun, naked, again yesterday. I started reading John Steinbeck's Russian Journal. It kicks severe ass. I think it's hilarious to read something written 50 years ago and still be able to compare it to modern day Russia. It's funny to see how things haven't changed.
Andy came by last night. We have a mutual acquaintance that he now works with and he actually went out and socialized the other day. I am so proud of him. Then he started telling me about this girl and I was like "Well, did you want to fuck her?"
" Well, yeah."
" Because she has big tits?"
Sheepish grin "Well, yeah."
" Then why didn't you try?"
" I had to pee really bad and I didn't think you would be receptive to the idea of me fucking her (since I know her)."
" Well, you can both have some fun. You can show her where her g-spot is and that would be wonderful. I approve of you fucking this girl."
I suppose he thought I asked him over to fuck, but I am over that now. We haven't for quite some time now and I am about to climb the fucking walls, but I didn't touch him. He didn't satisfy my needs and he knows that. One of the worst sexual experiences I ever had was when we first moved in together and I was like "come on" and he replied "do we have to?" I cried and cried over that one. I was under the assumption that all men were hornier then women and well, that myth was shattered in one foul swoop.
I choose the guys I fuck very carefully because I don't want to be stuck with baggage for what ever reason. I thought this morning maybe I should try to be a slut, so I would force myself out of this comfort zone. But then when I go out to meet guys, none of them seem that interesting and I like a guy I can talk to. Although a big beefy man does seem rather appealing. There is one in my Art History class. I think he is 6'7". He seems rather sweet and he's a jock but Jenna told me he wasn't my type, but then again, looking at some of the guys she has gone for...
I don't know... I asked him out to the movies one night when Priscilla and I went and saw one. I had to get some money so I went to the grocery store and he was in line to check out. Then he walked to his car and I yelled to him to come with us but he already had plans to drink beer and be with friends. I can tell he expects me to talk to him again and ask him out by the way he looks at me in class, but...
Then there was this guy I saw at the pharmacy, and I even asked him for his number. Have I called? No. Why? Because he's a loser that dropped out of school. And he wouldn't know how to entertain a woman like me. I barely know how to entertain myself and I live here.
A man man is what I need. Someone who knows what in the fuck they are doing and knows how to bring me out of myself as well. I finally understand what it means to be out of someone's league and I am quickly approaching the All Stars... major league, naturally.
Ah, sigh... one day... one day will come soon enough and then what will I do with myself?
Thursday, April 2, 1998

I was exhausted yesterday and feeling pretty insignificant. I had the most amazing talk with PhD Van Ausdale that made me feel so good and it's just amazing how as the day wears on I was stripped back down to nothing.
Van Ausdale said she admired me for my "Fuck you" attitude and that it was pretty amazing that I was able to do that Bulemia video. I suppose I accept myself for my weaknesses and that is something that a lot of people have problems doing.
I didn't get much sleep the night before because of Duncan. He was annoying me and I didn't sleep very well so by my last class, I was just so tired and feeling so bad. I won't do that again. I need sleep to feel human now so I am not going to hurt myself by not getting enough.
Don said something last night in class that almost made me start crying because not only was it mean but it was true but it still fucking hurt. His first wife died from Cancer so he knows how it sucks. Well, he was like "we can't bereave for you." And I know that, but god dammit, fucking have some god damn compassion for me. That doesn't mean you have to be harder on me because I can't function properly. I am doing my best to go to class to just be human and I would like some credit here.
He went on to say that he felt as if his mother died a year ago and I was like "Don, no matter how much you feel that way, when it actually happens, it still fucking hurts like hell."
Not many people want to listen to this shit but it's the fucking truth, or at least it's my truth.
I also think I hurt my Computer Art professor's feelings by not being around. But you know what, I can't worry about anybody else's feelings right now because mine are so fucking intense.
So I slept last night and I got like a hundred phone calls that woke me up. Then Duncan started again trying to get out this morning so I had to wake up and take him for a walk. I suppose it's a good thing because I get my ass out of bed early, but I guess I need to take naps to compensate for lost sleep. I made myself French toast, it was the first time I made it since I was in Germany over the summer. It was yummy because I added a little allspice. Priscilla had a nightmare so she woke up as well and went with me to walk Duncan.
She dropped me off at class and I trimmed some stuff and tried to make a bottle but these fucking news cameras were there interviewing Michelle and other students about this project the Clay club did called Empty Bowls. At first I didn't mind them so much but then it started to disturb me. I didn't get anything done and had to kill this really cool bottle I made. Then... to top it all off, my ex was in there working on a project and I didn't even know he was taking ceramics.
(ed. 4-5 I told him he should have taken ceramics last fall because a bunch of women are in the class and he actually listened to me! FUCKER.)
We looked at each other and I ignored him and he ignored me and then he walked up to this girl and was all shaking her and stuff I guess to get my attention and I was just like, "I am so over you I am not even going to acknowledge this."
I can't wait to go to see Dr. Bergandi in a half an hour. My stomach is all in knots and I cried when I got home last night. I fucking hate crying. I think back to when I was a little girl and just got a bunch of shit from my father and he used to make us cry so I would just lay in bed and cry myself to sleep. My mom started to tell us "Don't cry in front of him, it makes him feel stronger." So I started to train myself not to cry no matter how bad I hurt and now... I feel like... I have knots in my stomach because I still fucking hate crying.
Friday, April 3, 1998

Melissa's birthday is in 6 days. She says she doesn't want anything...
I laid in bed last night not wanting to get up. It was four am and I know I had to wake up and check on the turkey despite how sleepy I was. I forgot to put water in the bag so it didn't melt off the bones when I carved it this morning. It had been sitting in the freezer for two years and since I am moving, I thought I would go on and cook it.
I thought about doing it the traditional way, but decided against it by cooking it on the grill. So now it probably tastes as it was intended to so many years ago. I don't know why I am particularly sad, maybe because I know that I won't get to celebrate this Thanksgiving with my mom. I didn't celebrate every Thanksgiving with her, but this will be the first that I don't really have that option.
When I checked on it at 4 am, it was done. I didn't think it would be, and I just woke up on my own and just looked. It's a good thing because one of the legs was overcooked I discovered this morning.
I carved it last night while it was still hot because I thought when it cooled down, it would be rather difficult to do.I tried it and it was so succulent, but not quite as tender as it would have been if I had put some water in the bag.
I woke up at 7ish to the sound of Iggy Pop's Lust for Life and it is a song worth acquiring. Then I got up and carved the rest of the turkey, very unceremoniously, all by myself. I suppose that's what put me in this mood.
After my shower I just laid there in my ugly, uncomfortable, beige bra and a pair of jeans, thinking. I started to grieve, no, that's not true. I started grieving long ago. I began to feel the loss I have suffered and it hurts so bad. I think back to all the bad things that have happened to me and the ones that bother me the most weren't done directly to me. My sister being hurt by her beau when she was 13, scared to tell anyone until she was 15. That bothers me a lot. I confronted him when I found out and I scared him shitless. He had some of Anne's precious photos and was unwilling to give them back and I could never understand why she hated him so vehemently. I threatened to cut his dick off if he didn't return the photos and he asked "Is that a threat or a promise?" and I replied "A promise." I went by his house not long after that and recovered her photos (his trophy).
This makes me very sad. This, I think, has to be the one thing that hurts and pisses me off the most. This was the event that destroyed my world when everything else around me was falling apart. At the time I found out about this I was not speaking to my father, or we had a very strained relationship, my mom was in her second year of chemo, (was recovering from a particularly awful bout of the poison) and I was 17. I could not understand how anyone could violate and take something that didn't belong to them. I still don't.
In my Art and Politics class last night, we discussed Art and War. It was a very powerful class and it's the first time I was cohesive enough to take valid notes and comment in class. I was rather proud of myself. But I suppose it was the trigger that spun me down this dark spiral of a mood. There were rape scenes in that and some of the artists depicted women strewn about as pieces of furniture. Very disturbing and very powerful.
When I think back to that time in my life, I lost my innocence, what little I had. I think it's funny that I feel the worst event I have ever encountered didn't even happen to me. And I feel such compassion, such sorrow in the depths of my soul. I used to believe that virginity was such a gift. That when you give that part of yourself to someone else, you are sharing not only a part of your body but you are transferring each other's soul. So that's another reason I don't fuck around. Not that I mind so much giving myself, but taking in someone that is empty is very taxing on your psyche.
I heard a teacher quote someone saying that artists are "filters of the world" and that we are more sensitive then most people to events around us. And this makes me angry to a degree, because I want everybody to be able to understand me and why I am the way I am, and that's just a delusion on my part because most people are only in it for themselves.
I think back to when I grabbed Bobby Wanye's dick when he tried to touch my "titty" and I will never forget the look on his face. NEVER. That look of horror and violation. How could you be on top of someone and know that they aren't enjoying what you are doing to them? I just will NEVER be able to understand, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!
Saturday, April 4, 1998

It was a blah kind of day. Priscilla dropped me off at school. My professor had plans for lunch so Jenna and I feasted on my turkey.
I couldn't work. I looked at other student's pages and cringed. How can you not understand the basic concept of design? That a busy background usually takes away from a piece?
As I walked home... I hoped to get a postcard from the doctor. And I thought to myself it would be nice to get a check so I don't have to scrap money any more.
I walked up to the stoop and there was a package strategically placed under the mat. It beckoned "come steal me!!!!" I smiled to myself. It was from Saks Fifth Avenue in Florida. I smiled. The doctor out did himself, all I wanted was a simple bouquet of flowers.
Then I looked in the mail box and there is was. I floated into the house, sat down on my ugly, worn couch mom bought so many years ago and opened the check. It was one of those surreal moments in my life, where I felt like the fact should have been fiction. Then I opened the box and it was Godiva. I was just beside myself because I felt that I would know these things would occur on my way home, I would hear from the doctor and I would get most of my money. Call it intuition or whatever, but I knew... I can see things.
I floated to the bank and asked the teller to cash it. I wanted the entire amount in cash. I wanted to photograph me laying in this mass of hundreds of dollars. The teller looked at the check, then she LOOKED at the check. Her eyes were wide as saucers and I could feel her excitement at seeing that sum and me asking for it in cash, although I couldn't feel the excitement myself because all the while I kept thinking, "how can you put a value on human life?" It made me a little sad, but then I thought to myself "this is ten years of torture. TEN FUCKING YEARS!!!" All nice and clean and neat in more money then most people make in a year and it's ALL MINE. My first salary paycheck for living through hell, AND THERE WILL BE MORE!
This takes me out of the poverty tax bracket. I don't know what to think... All that hoping and waiting reduced to one moment in time... I wanted to feel that amount of money in my hands, make a bikini out of it and photograph me in it. I guess it's enough to be a body suit.
Now I am even more frightened. I made checks out to the companies I owe money to.
And then there's the doctor to top it off. He wants to be nice to me, treat me like a lady... I don't get my hopes up because this is not my life. I am here and some other woman is taking over my body, emerging, evolving into who I have always wanted to be. I'm here, like the little girl, the rebellious teenager, watching wide eyed as this woman, this amazing woman that people admire takes control over this body and mind. Healing herself so she doesn't rely on past traumas to dictate her life.
It's quite an amazing experience to learn and accept yourself for who you are. Melissa said she felt that my mom would do things to undermine me, to make me feel inadequate. I think she is right because now I don't have my mom holding me back. I see that now, that her fears, her insecurities, her dependence guided me to a certain extent. And since I resembled her, I was expected to be like her. But we are nothing alike. I try to purge myself of prejudices (even though I am a self-proclaimed elitist, it doesn't mean I really believe someone is worse then me, unless they do something to prove it, we are all different and we are all human and we all have something to learn from everyone we encounter), I don't let fear dictate how I am going to live my life, and I don't sit on my ass and avoid life even though I am have a "physical disability."
There's also a certain amount of security in having your own money. Most people that are graduating get a car or move back in with their parents. I get a new beginning, not just with this money, but because I am not carrying my mother on my back any longer.
I have laid in bed twice this week, overwhelming myself with my personality... I am about to take off... where, I have no idea.
I think I am going to go change my sheets, take a long hot bath and go to sleep. I think I am also going to cry and mourn my life of poverty, because what if I have to go back to living like this?
The girl in me feels like I don't deserve this life that is happening, but the woman is calming her down, soothing her rough edges to form a nicely cut diamond. Amazing what a cold, gloomy day can turn into.
Life is truly amazing, and I am still in shock.
Sunday, April 5, 1998

Last night was one of those moments in time that I wish never to forget. Jenna kept threatening to drag my ass out and I relented without much resistance. I somehow managed to convince Katie to come with us, so we waited for Priscilla when she got home and then she got ready and while she was getting ready all the 4 of us were in the kitchen fucking off.
I brought out my chocolates and was like "Try one!" Jenna and Sarah had never indulged in Godiva even though they passed by the store in the mall. Sarah said "I'm afraid that if I try one, then I will become addicted." So she didn't even try a bite. I ate two and made Katie have a bite of one. I craved Godivas in Moscow and the only reason I did such a thing was because I saw that they were available the first time I went. Naturally, when we returned to Global USA last year, they were no longer in sight and the cashier had no fucking clue what I was talking about.
It struck me as strange that they didn't want to try them out of fear for some reason or another.
Jenna drug us to Vinnie's, this god-awful night club with a dance floor that lit up. It's in this awful club complex called Hurricane O'Malley's. The only other time I have been there was when Roman was here. It was pretty bad. Jenna kept calling the people inbred and the largest dance floor is devoted to country-shit kicking music. (gag, hack, vomit).
We, naturally were the hottest group of women at this club. Jenna is THE JAP, Priscilla is fucking tall and half Korean, Katie is a punker and now she has a Mohawk, and Sarah looked like a hippy chick. I wore this mini skirt that showed my ass and the tiara mom used to wear when she was a teen. We were so out of place, all of us in black except for Sarah. It was so bad... We left and went to Jake's which is a little dive. Diedre was there after a while.
We sat around, the five of us girls and listened to the juke box and talked about masterbating. It was a very lively conversation especially when Katie started making stuff up. Some man bought us all drinks. I bought us all drinks. It was just... I was so fucking happy to be alive.
I ordered a camera yesterday. I decided that I might as well get a used one, fuck it, and a new lens. I can wait to have the fucker in my hand... Tanya wants me to meet her in NY next weekend, and I really want to, but that would mean I would have to bust my ass this week, and I don't know how willing I am to do that. OR I shouldn't say willing, my will has nothing to do with it anymore.
Alyson came by early this morning (noon). She just showed up and I looked up at her and said "Have you eaten? Ya hungry?" So we went and ate at Lynn's. I love spontaneity. I had country fried steak, and it was yummy. She talks and talks... It's kind of comforting being with another Gemini because then the burden of the conversation doesn't fall exclusively onto me. Lately, it's been hard for me to keep up a conversation so it was nice just listening and not expected to do anything but listen and smile.
We went to some tacky little Spring Phling bullshit fair at Phoenix Hill. There was smoky fair food hanging in the air and white trash crafts abound. I remember when I used to want that kind of junk, but as Melissa says, you eventually outgrow it if you have any taste. I was inspecting the seams of these clothes as the girl proudly declared "Me and my friend designed these clothes!" And I thought to myself, "Your craftsmanship sucks." Granny can fucking sew better then anybody and she taught me about craftsmanship. Her seams look better then anything you can fucking buy in the store. Smooth, tight, flawless stitching that has been perfected over the last 50 years.
Shit, I have so much stuff to do. I don't think I can work this week. I need to play catch up, and there isn't a lot for me to do... Not like I am really motivated to work now that I have some money and am still in the troughs of the grief process. Besides, school is the work I need to finish. I want to fuck around and have fun. Jenna feels like a bum now that she doesn't have a job, but her dad gives her money, so it's not like she really needs to work. I don't think we are going to get to go to Israel together, which kind of pisses me off because she is fluent in Hebrew and then I wouldn't have to feel like a fucking moron tourist if I was there with her. Maybe she will want to go to the Hermitage with me this summer. I want to spend 2 weeks in Spain, going through the Prado. Venice because that was my mom's favorite city, and I want to trans Siberian Railroad it through Asia... I think that's a lot. Enough for now. That's it, that should consist of 5 new countries. Oh and Kiev. I have to make it to Kiev.
I think I am going to go pack some stuff up so I can store it... I fucking hate moving.
Monday, April 6, 1998

Delirium... wrapped in the timeless fashion of sleep.
I had thought I was just hung over, yesterday, but as I tossed and turned last night, I realized that I had a fever. A rather nasty one that has left me with the runs, a headache, and general malaise. I was wondering how long my immune system could sustain itself without having one cold or flu this winter. Now my body is at it's mercy. Fuck.
I would like to think that I am not ill right now, but I am so weak and as I write, I am breaking out in a sweat (I broke my fever). I was so warm and somewhat comfortable, although I was managing to evade sleep. I knew I had a fever, but it felt so good just being warm... that warm when you have a fever that envelops you like your mother's womb.
As I tired to fall asleep last night, I heard my dumb ass neighbor hammering away. That was around 2 a.m. There goes Duncan. I would like to take him for a walk... but now I am sick. How awful... I haven't see Cootie for over a week now. I don't know what the fuck happened to him. He's been a good companion now for over 7 years. Shitter is becoming clingy again, now that Coco and Cootie are not around.
I am reading John Steinbeck's Russian Journal, and he was a prick. I don't like him. He was annoyed with the photographer that went with him so to shut him up, he asked him all these hard, trivial questions to prove his intellectual superiority (LIKE: which Greek tragedian was involved in the battle of Sardenis? Uhhh... Homer? and how many legs does an insect have? That's easy, 6). Then he talks about how the he didn't know anything about foreign policy when he is speaking with the farmers of the Ukraine, and they understood and knew what was going on between our governments and they were fucking farmers!
What good is intellectual superiority if it's all based on useless, trivial facts? I just don't understand. Then I start thinking about my brother... He's a "genius" but he hasn't done one fucking thing to improve himself or the world around him. He's a fucking liar and thief and I despise him now. I hate how momma thought he was oh so much smarter then me. And I see how juvenile some of the things that she did were because of him and her own refusal to grow up.
Sigh... What good is it, really? To understand nothing about foreign policy but to know how many legs an insect has? What a fucking prick. I can't really feel for this photographer much, either, Capa is the fellows name. Most of his work sucks so far. Just snapshots of an era long ago that still exists today. Ha!
I think I have figured out why the Russians didn't take care of their stuff so much... They were always under the constant threat of War, they understood what it meant to be invaded so they half-assed some of the work on their buildings, thinking they could easily be destroyed again.
I hate how this country's people have their heads up their asses. They don't want to understand more then what is beyond their little, isolated existences. That thought just nauseates me. No, I am nauseated because I am sick, ding dong (to myself).
I think one of the only ways I feel like I can do anything is by continuing to photograph. That's a document. I intend on going back to Russia every summer for at least a month the rest of my life. That way, I will have something to give to future generations so they can look down on me for some of my stupid attitudes. I wonder if he realized he was such a prick. I think his head must have gone up his ass because he went in the late forties, he had to be famous by then.
I used to love him, and now I am worried about my own image... Well, I can't really worry about that. I am who I am and just as human as the next person. I carry a lot of attitudes and beliefs that have been dictated to me, but that is changing... I can go back and read my journal and see how much I have evolved over the past 6 months, and that's a good thing. Change, Change, Change...
Tuesday, April 7, 1998

I have a gun, in case you were wondering.
My insides are rotting out of my body as I type. I thought maybe I could go to class today, but now that doesn't look possible. No fever, just soreness from my achy muscles.
I took a zanex last night around 7, went to bed around 10 and just now, 6, woke up. I had the most amazing dream. I dreamt mom was alive and she had come back to fix what Thomas was doing. We swam in her pool. There was this girl here, that had been a prostitute (she was with Thomas) and she was teaching me a new stroke called the "fireball." Priscilla had been there too. We went to a new grocery store called Meijer and they had Russian bread. She told me that I had been like Rip Van Winkle and just woke up and a year ago she had been a playboy playmate.
It was a very weird dream, that made me believe it was reality. I knew mom had been dead, and she was alive in this dream telling me everything would be OK. I wasn't so sad when I woke up and realized that it was a dream (I had wanted to believe it was real, that mom was still alive) because a sense of calm has washed over me.
I'm not going to be neurotic about what I put in my journal, Peter. I used to live my life in fear from the time I was a child. I used to think my dad's clients (he's a lawyer) were assassins (a lot of them were murderers) and they were going to kill me when I laid down to sleep because we didn't have curtains in our room and you could see in from the hill on the other side of our house. I'm sick of living in fear and being paranoid. If any sicko out there wants to find me, they can, no matter how difficult I make it for them, because they are sick.
How can one explain the abuse they suffer as a child? Anything anybody can do to me today is only surface hurt. Nothing can compare to the life I led as a child, that constant fear of death... My father took a car where his client had blown his wife's head out in the back seat. My brother watched as he picked the brains out of the inside. My mom had to run errands one day so we rode in this car, all 5 of us in the front seat. I will never forget that awful smell of bleach and blood combined.
I had to have been only 4 or 5. I remember asking "mommy, what's that smell?" As I held my nose to keep from gagging. The trip had to last only 10 minutes.
When mom and dad started to get a divorce, he threatened to kill her. We knew that it was a reality that could happen because we had been exposed to this horror early.
I tried to explain this fear to Tanya. She couldn't understand it either. Then she told me about how there was an earthquake in Moldovia before she left, and she was always afraid after that. I told her to imagine living like that for 15 years of your life, when you didn't know any better. I always thought my father wanted to kill me. He was always so cruel to me because I looked like my mom. It was a happy day when he would come home in a good mood.
It took some time for me to be on my own for me to realize that those thoughts I had felt as a child (although justifiable) were just thoughts of fear, nothing more. I refuse to fear anything now, the Russian mob (and I have walked by these gorillas on several occasions), my brother (the ultimate delusive sicko), and especially my father. Life is too short.
Later...
Well, since there is nothing for me to do except run to the bathroom and be sick, I suppose it was only natural for me to start fucking around on my computer again.
So I am slobbering and getting all hot over the prospect of my new camera. The fuckers at the post office didn't tell me if it was after noon that next day delivery wasn't guaranteed, not that I would have noticed because I was sick.
The Leica R8... slobber, cream, slobber. I didn't realize what a fucking photo geek I am. I have chosen some select text from their web site:
" easy-grip, optimally positioned controls for simple, safe handling." (sounds like a deluxe vibrator, eh?)
" The fast shutter (1/8000 - 32 s) {OH GOD, I THINK I AM GOING TO COME} opens up every possibility for creative photography - under natural light conditions, as well artificial lighting. Flash synchronization 1/250 s."
" The new High-Eye-point view finder with integral diopter adjustment provides all the information and offers a total overview at a glance. With a brilliant image and complete information" I have no fucking clue what a diopter adjustment is, but I can't wait to fondle it with my fingers!!!
The shudder is "Microprocessor controlled, metal blade focal-plane shutter
continuous from 32 s to 1/8000 s in automatic mode
in manual mode from 16 s to 1/8000 s (also half values)
X (=1/250 s) for flash sync.

I never thought I could be this excited over technology... Oh God... why can't I fondle this machine in my hands right now? I know I am going to sleep with it around my neck for the next week. I need to go clean a place off for it on my headboard.
I need to find all my old camera equipment and get it together for Nate, since he knows how to photograph. His birthday is Saturday, he will be 5.
I think it's time for a nap. I have excited myself into a frenzy and now I need to take deep breaths and calm down. You couldn't tell by looking at me how excited I am. I'm bouncing off the walls of my own mind, about to go mad because I am sick and there is nothing I can really do. FUCK!
Wednesday, April 8, 1998

Today... I PUT MY WATCH ON!!!
Aren't you proud of me??? I finally put my watch on. Then part of the day was excruciating.
I went to class, and nobody wanted my turkey because it was old (oh well) so I went to the Library and read about Mary Magdalene which was interesting.
Went to my next class, had my name read out loud for not turning in a paper (I'll do it this weekend). Sat through class, just half paying attention.
Then I went to this awards ceremony which was a total disaster. I wanted to throw up I was so upset. Andrea was there, this girl that Thomas has done most of the work for her to finish college... She can't even FUCKING READ ENGLISH! When I was still civil to her, we went out and ate at a restaurant and she was reading this headline and she mispronounced the last word. It's almost like me trying to read Russian, but at least it uses a different alphabet and I haven't lived the better part of my life in the US or served in the US Army. I should have taken her presence as an omen to run away. (God I am a catty bitch when I want to be).
I went to sit down and Lonnie and Lish (gag hack vomit- names have been changed to protect the guilty) were there and I was like "Did you throw my card away Lonnie?" (the card my professor, Isabella, bought when mom died) And he was like "Yep" So I knew what it was going to be like from then on. I was just sitting there, talking to Sydney telling her about my hellish semester and she was telling me how she has been just so busy. (Found out I have to take a competency test... YEA. I fucking hate tests.)
Then she'd have to give them attention. And I would just stare around the room thinking, "This isn't going to bother you, this isn't going to bother you" because not only did he not try to find my address for over a month after my mom died, I was the one that called him up and he had the gall to ask me for my address when he fucking knew where I lived and he was too wrapped up in his own life to do a simple task... if anybody can find my address on the Internet... that he took on the responsibility to do FUCK HIM. He had no God Damn right throwing that card away, it wasn't his property...
There was "nothing for us to talk about" and I was like OK... so then he started talking to Sydney (my Russian professor) about what him and Lish did over their Spring Break and bullshit like that. I wanted to jump up and say "YEAH MOTHER FUCKER, WELL I JUST INHERITED X AMOUNT OF DOLLARS SO GO SHOVE THAT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS! YOU ARE SO INSIGNIFICANT TO ME YOU MEAN LESS TO ME THEN A GRAIN OF SAND ON THE GODDAMN COAST OF CALIFORNIA!"
But that's not the case. Lonnie and Lish have shown me how shallow and empty people our age can be, and now I know what some of the signs to look for are. I thought they were like me, we studied the same things, had appreciation for art (Lish), and I thought we came from similar backgrounds (we were not treated kindly as children), but that's just not the case. Character and charisma is something Lonnie will never have and Lish needs to quit focusing it on her cunt.
Lonnie is jealous of other people if they are pretty or whatever and what he doesn't understand is that none of that BULLSHIT matters, but he is obsessed. And Lish, she used her cunt like a weapon, but the only person she ended up hurting was herself. And how do I fit in to this tangled mess... I am probably just some dumb ass. I gave them a lot of shit, but I was fucking willing to be their friend when they came back from Russia and
DUMPED ME IN PARIS

I just should have fucking known... And I got so upset and I let it bother me until now, and they aren't insignificant people, but they are to me, at least now they are. They are just so lost like so many of the people I see around me, and I am starting to discover that the reason I can call myself an opinionated bitch is because I have the self-confidence and knowledge that allows me to back what I say up. And fucking actions speak louder then words and I fucking stayed in Russia like I said I would and they were pussies and they came home.
A lot of things died with mom, unconditional love (yeah, like I ever had that), understanding of who I am (umm... well) and what I have been through and that relationship that is suppose to span a lifetime.
But what I have gained is an even more fierce streak of independence and knowing who I am and accepting me for who I am, although mom always told me I should do this, she was never very conducive to this attitude.
I will try to look back on Lonnie and Lish as people, that's it. Sometimes people bring out the worst in one another and we happen to be it. I'm not crying over spilt milk... I finally understood the expression "with friend's like these, who needs enemies?" So ends the talk of Lonnie and Lish, I wish them to be happy in whatever they seek.
I almost feel like this was a test... I feel like I am being tested a lot lately. Like I got that money, but was rendered ill. Then I was able to stay in this situation for at least a half an hour without totally losing my temper. I don't suppose many people have ever seen me lose my temper except for my family.
I don't just get angry, I get violent. I bust doors out of their jambs and get as destructive as possible, but I haven't done that in over a year when I kicked Anne's ass for being a bitch to me. I was sick of her snotty little "I'm better then you" attitude so I just got on top of her and started beating the shit out of her (I was already worked up and she just said these words that made me want to hurt her as much as she had been hurting me). I'm not proud of myself, in any way, shape or form that this event transpired, but it almost had to happen because I had told Anne to quit being mean to me and that day... I just freaked out and hit her in the face and when I realized the horror of what I was doing, I tried to get up, but SHE wouldn't let go. Old habits die hard and she wanted to fight just as much as I did, to relieve some of that pain we felt, that suffering you only experience as you watch someone melt away before your eyes and you know you can do nothing to keep it from happening.
That's it, I'm fucking stopping. Time to walk the fucking dog.
I have calmed down considerably now... My only cat is curled up in my lap as I type these words. I understand that I am not the easiest person to get along with, that at times, I am weird, and for so long I have felt that there was something wrong with me for not being like other people.
I have finally come to the conclusion that people just need to fuck off and you can try to catch up to me, because I am not de-evolving for anybody anymore. I am Catherine Elizabeth Clay and I am FUCKING proud of who I am and what I am becoming, and for the first time in my life, I can actually FEEL what this means, and I am no longer scared of who I am.
Thursday, April 9, 1998

Today is Melissa's birthday.
I'm in an odd sort of mood today... My camera won't be sent until I can track down the frigging overnight express package that has my fucking check in it, god dammit.
I threw a bottle today in ceramics. That's all I am going to do tomorrow, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Try to catch up. I suppose I should set a time limit, but I will be glad to be there alone.
FUCK FUCK FUCK... I want my god damn camera. I want to take a nap. I took Duncan for a run this morning. I cleverly devised that if I ride my bike real fast, he has to run to keep up so I rode while he ran and it took me a few times of dropping his leash thingie and learning how to jerk him before it worked real good.
I still feel ill, but at least I am not weak anymore. I ate pancakes and eggs because I was hungry this morning and now I just feel blah. Plus the fucking weather is rank, all gloomy and cold. I hate how my moods so easily change with the weather.
I got a bunch of commencement bullshit in the mail. I AM GOING TO GRADUATE, GOD DAMMIT! It's going to kick my ass the next few weeks, but I honestly believe I can do it. In the past there was no problem, but everything is different now. That means I am going to have to force myself off the computer. No, it's the one vice I will keep, but just not so... much.
Shit. I forgot Nate's birthday is Saturday, so that means I will spend all day in the studio tomorrow. Oh well. Gotta run, gotta find my frigging receipt so I can get my fucking camera.
Friday, April 10, 1998

A dream where I wake up with the feeling of going mad... Dr. Kloner does this to me.
Bright, so bright, an angel, alien, image of Mary flying through the sky... I dreamt I worked (or was being examined) at a doctor's office and in this room I had forgotten about I had left a bag of stuff. A bottle of iron pills, some candy, some shiny stars that I had bought for my mother when she was still alive. The realization of knowing she was dead and sobbing madly, inconsolable by the people I worked or was being seen by. Going back to her house, where Andy was. Being stripped and laying in a couch, the old couch someone had given her that a former tenant had left in a rental property which was huge and could be put together to make a bed. Then Eric, Eric sleeping behind me, only this time, he was naked. He kept trying to put his dick in my ass (my poor ass, still sore from being sick, and in the dream, he knew it was sore), joking because he's gay and we can play like that with one another. I told him of my day, how empty I felt. Then the angel flying in the sky, so bright, so vivid, like a butterfly. The windows were in front of us (we were in Rome, then at mom's) and then it landed behind us, near the creek. I kept trying to get up to look saying "Eric, let me go so I can see." Pleading him several times to release me and as I rose and looked around, I had awakened to a dark room, and no Eric behind me. A minute of fright as I realized how strong I believed in the dream. The doorbell rang, and maybe that was just a hallucinating as well, but I was am overpowered with sadness... and some other sensation... a sense of well being, as if mom were an angel? She believed in angels, she saw one once when she was 7.
I need to go work in the studio, but I think I will forgo that for more sleep and just spend the night over in the studio, I have all these wonderful ideas for pots now.
The lecture last night was Freida Kahlo, really Diego Rivera, but in the end, it's always Freida. Freida that put her misery on a canvas, revealing her heart, her vulnerability to the world to make you feel something, somewhere. I'm taking Eric to Mexico in September or October to her museum as a pilgrimage since he is the one that introduced me to her so long ago.
I told him how Don had hurt my feelings and he said "Because he doesn't know how you make him feel." And as soon as these words fell from his lips, one at a time, I understood that now, because his life is changing, he doesn't necessarily wish to feel and I am forcing him to feel and it makes him uncomfortable. I told Eric I wish I could keep him in my pocket so he could translate what other people are saying to me at all times. I truly love him above many people because even though he laughs and makes fun of me for some of my ideas, he still respects me as an artist and a person, and I was pretty vile to him in the past.
Maybe I shouldn't eat before I go to sleep, but that was the only time yesterday I was hungry. The rest of the day was pretty miserable, my poor derriere.
I told Dr. Kloner his classes made me think so hard my brain hurt, and I wasn't kidding. That's 2 for 2. Every Thursday night.
P.S. I found out why my express package wasn't at Tamarkin, and it's quite a humorous story... One of the representatives, who shall remain nameless, was looking on my web-site (I asked another representative to evaluate my photos to tell me what kind of lens I should get) and just so happened to be admiring the technical skill and expertise of the photo where Johnny Deep signed my left tit, well he was flustered by that, then the delivery girl was cute and totally forgot that he had my fucking money in his hands because he was thinking with his dick. I suppose I can't really complain, I'm a bit flattered, as I think every woman should be. It's not everyday you get to revel in your sexuality. (MY CAMERA'S COMING TODAY!!!!!!)
Later...
After my dream, I went and laid down. Then the doorbell rang again for real and I said who is it? Because quite frankly, I was too lazy to go put pants on. So he said UPS and I starter squealing... I signed the thingie and said "Don't look, I am in my underware!" and he was such a nice guy that he didn't (I would have).
I leapt around screaming and Priscilla was concerned at first and then she realized what was going on. I took the butcher knife and stabbed the box open. Drooling and creaming and I don't even remember opening the box, but it was in my hands and I was sitting on Priscilla's floor. We were trying to figure out how to take the battery thingie off (THANK GOD IT CAME WITH BATTERIES!) and we both looked at it and fiddled, and looked and fiddled and finally it magically opened for me. It was delivered around 10:10 am (I'm estimating). I got it working and boy does she have lots of instructions that go with her.
Priscilla got up and made me breakfast as I was playing, she made potatoes, fake sausage links, and an omelet that was orgasmic in and of itself. I made her take my photo as I was eating it. I am going to take a photo of my old camera and my new one and then you will see why this one is so nice.
So I went back in my room just to enjoy my camera nd the food, and I now understand the movie Like Water For Chocolate since Pris is sexually repressed at this moment in time, she can cook well enough to insight an orgasm, not like I wasn't already excited, but her food just made it worse.
Had a good day at school, Signed up to go to Chicago with Jenna on May 8... oops... can't do it, that's when graduation rehearsal is. Oh well. Find out about the Getty trip (which there is no word as of yet), saw Sabel, and came to ceramics. So far I have thrown a bowl and a really funky bottle. It started to fuck up and I was like no no no...and it said yes yes yes... so we compromised into some funky phallic form that I hope stays.
Funny about my dream considering it's good Friday, eh?
I forgot tonight I am suppose to go with Jenna to her mother's house to eat Matzah ball soup. I wish I were just a bit ethnic. Just a smudge would be nice, then I could have some kind of tie to an exotic land far away. But I am plain ol' cracker white. Oh well, I must strive to be more interesting since I am not so exotic.
5 pieces. Today. That's my goal. 2 down, three to go, and go and go... I think I want some starbursts...
Saturday, April 11, 1998

Subject: pizada (that means cunt)
Hi, feminist. I'm just wondering what kind of trash person you were dealing with in Russia. Because no1 in Russia likes people like u. That means: ignorant, offensive, spoiled people especially if they r women, especially if they don't know who is the father of their babies. That kind of people in Russia have own society and they may not speak up before normal people. NO WAY FOR FEMINISM IN RUSSIA. But u just stay feminist. Life is boring without clowns.
Sunday, April 12, 1998

Deleted this entry (which happens when I can't respond)today:
Name: Ninotschka
Website:
Referred by: Just Surfed On In
From: Europe
Time: 1998-04-12 21:06:00
Comments: Cathy Get a life and start respecting others....
Hmmm... Is this suppose to mean that I have slighted someone? I only disrespect those that have disrespected me (I don't believe in that Christian bullshit about turning the other cheek, that cheek is flawless and I would like to keep it that way). I guess women aren't entitled to their opinions. But this person didn't even leave an e-mail address so I could tell them I do have a life. A very rich life. Just because I sit on my computer instead of watching the latest episode of Friends...
I mean think of it... I am sharing with you, who ever you are, a piece of myself (my joys my sorrow), as an artist, as a woman, as a human, and I get told to "get a life." Sounds like this person is jealous that they don't have a life or something. So naturally I get flamed because I do and I write about mine, by Russians, none the less. I love how people project their inadequacies on to other people, blaming them for what ever faults they have in their own personality. Been there, done that. It's a life I chose not to lead anymore.
That doesn't mean I am not petty at times...
I had an amazing weekend. The Passover Dinner with Jenna and her family was AMAZING! (photos coming soon). I am so jealous that she is Jewish and that there is that tradition... That culture is so rich, so full of life, and in a way, I wonder if some of the resentment that arises against Jews isn't because of that tradition, no matter what they have been put through, no matter how much they suffer, they always know that they are a part of something special.
I think that's a great life to give to your children, a rich, wonderful history so they understand more about themselves.
So there was that, and yesterday was Nate's birthday, (Today was Doug's, my brother in law) so I took Jenna with me to that. It was so much fun. We sat and talked and she got to see my sister's friends. Lesli has the greatest friends in the world, and I think I am going to start documenting them more and more because they are the human family. A little community within itself. I can't go into the structure of it, it's just an amazing feeling to be around these people.
Even since mom died, I have had suffered the most bouts of happiness around this group of friends. Watching them grow and get married and have babies and just live life as they grow older. I feel like an observer, although I am very much a part of this group as well.
So Jenna is house sitting out in the county and it's close to where Dad's house was where I was raised so we drove by it. When I lived there, it wasn't developed, and I drove by the house and forgot which one it was. Only when I thought to look at the address... Jenna got bad vibes from it. She didn't like it at all. I was just kind of numb. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to possess that house and take a sledge hammer and destroy the structure on the inside. Tear down it's walls slowly, exposing the different colors of paint, rip out the rugs by their threads, listen to the sound of splitting wood and cracking tile... I longed to do this even before I watched Forest Gump, but I can imagine the elation Jenny must have felt when Forest had that house torn down since I have imagined it happening so many times in the past.
But there it still stands in Goshen (what an ironic name) a testament to the abuse I suffered under the hands of my father. Someone lives there now, and I often wonder to myself if they are a happy family.
So then we drove by his new home so I could show her how he has no taste. He has a red wood and stone number where he painted the red-wood a baby blue, so it's really quite repulsive. That whole neighborhood is repulsive to me.
We talked about so much deep stuff, the kind of stuff that you usually keep to yourself, which was nice to hear from someone else for a change. Then she told me about Traveling in Tel Aviv, and the wonderful men she knew. It was just amazing. When we got to where she was house sitting, we jumped on the trampoline in the back, which is something I had never done before and it was so liberating.
I have bonded with my Leica. I love it, and now, I can't ever imagine a life without it and I can't imagine what life was like before it, kind of like having this notebook.
The light was just amazing in this house so I got Jenna to strip for me and I took some beautiful photos. I should have dropped off the film yesterday, after I came back from shopping with Jenna, but I got ready and went out on a blind date of sorts with Allison. It was a bomb, I don't think I am the type of girl you ever want to spring on an un suspecting male. But I kept my mouth shut most of the time and was shy.
Can you believe I am shy? I am. Horribly shy. I mean if you get me to come out, I won't go back in, but since mom has died... I just don't see any purpose in exploiting or selling myself to others. I don't really give a shit what most people think anymore where before, I was curious what everyone thought about anything.
I got home around 3 and fell asleep and woke up at 7 and went to Melissa's because she was on call and had to definitely work at 3 so I rented 3 movies to watch. A Thousand Acres, 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag and The Voyeur (which was incredibly stupid soft-porn... it sounded good, I didn't know...). A Thousand Acres is one of the best movies I have seen in a while. Michelle Phiffer has a realistic mastectomy scar and Jessica Lange is cool and so is Jennifer Jason Leigh. It touches on the mother loss thing, but... there I wasn't convinced so much by these women, something wasn't quite right.
There is something about a Motherless daughter, you can see she is different... and it depends on when she lost her mother. I don't think any of the actresses have lost theirs so... but who knows for sure?
Colin threw up on me. I hope he is OK. I am worried about him, he goes to the cardiologist on Thursday because he was born with a heart problem, and if it's not fixed itself, then they are going to have to operate on him. I held him extra close to me and just felt him next to me, the amazing little human that he is. My favorite man... So I am stressed out... but it will all work itself out. It always does.
Monday, April 13, 1998

I laid on the ground and looked up at the blue sky with the diminishing sun and just listened to all the life around me. All different kinds of birds chirping, some people off in the distance grilling out. I closed my eyes and wondered what it was like to be dead.
Then I remembered what had accompanied her in her casket. A mug I threw in ceramics, a little grover I bought at FAO Schwartz with Zack in Chicago when I returned from Russia, A diamond pendant I had bought for her the day she died, and photos of everyone that loved her. I don't remember what everyone else placed in the casket, but I know what I put there.
I thought it was appropriate to spend some of my Easter with mom. I told her some of the things going on in my life and when I felt stupid doing that, talking out loud to myself, I laid on the mushy ground next to her and just wondered what her flesh looked like now, if the fingers had lost their fullness yet, and if her flesh had started to decay. I know her hair and nails are still growing, and that this is probably the only time she has ever had nails. She would always bite her nails and pick off her toenails. One habit I inherited and the other which I abhor. Just thinking of the sound of someone picking off their toe nails makes me want to gag.
When I am in Moscow, I never put my fingers in my mouth because it's gross.
When I closed my eyes and wondered what it felt like to be dead, to have menial possessions surrounding me, to wonder what her flesh felt like at that exact moment, I somehow felt a little of the connection I used to feel with her, that somehow, she was still with me and I could feel her energy although it was very weak. I did not cry, I couldn't, but I am now.

Tanya says I shouldn't let what other people say to me even effect me, and right now I am a big mess of conflicting attitudes where I don't give a fuck about the image I portray, but I do care what other people think or say about me. I don't understand myself sometimes.
I suppose this is what being an adult is all about. Harnessing those bad feelings and trying not to let it bother you. I wish there was a happy medium where I gave off a softer "fuck you" attitude and cared what people I love thought about me instead of giving that power to strangers.
Am I such an exhibitionist that I have to win the love of everybody and if I don't, then I feel inadequate? Fuck that, I will never win the approval of my father so a stranger's opinion should hold no credence in my life, nor will it take the place of filling that hole.
So now it's time to work on the "fuck you" attitude light. I don't ever wish to lose that part of me, but despite how strong I wish it to remain "fuck you" heavy, I am softer and more compassionate, and I can write bad attitudes of other people off into "just one of those days."
If you believe in prayer, please pray for Hannah. She is in the hospital now, in ICU recovering from an operation that was just devastating.
Tuesday, April 14, 1998

 

Me on Saturday, taken with my new camera. I had some trouble with it at first, but we have bonded now and I think she respects me. I had just figured out how to use the timer. I like how there is my reflection, I didn't anticipate that.

Do write Jenna and tell her what a babe she is. Look at the lines on this photo... God it's so cool. I know I should have had her take off her panties, but it's kind of like "you can fuck me if you get my panties off, but you have to get my panties off first." That's her attitude. She's so cool.
Some of the photos are just... uzhest. Bad lighting and such.
Yesterday ended up being a pretty awful day. I was just left with an unsettling feeling and there is no way to define it. I got a call from Roman, which kind of cheered me up, but that was about it.
Roman got me out of bed this morning too. I was so happy to hear from him, I think we were long over due for a conversation on the telephone. I told him I needed him to be my tour guide so he can go with me to "dangerous" places. He said his break is in June, and that kind of sucks, but... it will work itself out.
I need to call Aunt Betsy, my father's sister that lives in Madrid. Hopefully I can stay with her while I'm in Spain, but what I would like even more then that would be to stay with Leticia. I miss her. She was a foreign exchange student when Anne was still in school. We clicked and I get to see her whenever she comes to the states, but I should call her. I think I will call her when I am done.
I should be in ceramics now, but I figure that if I am going to be there all day... plus not only did I have some porcelain stolen from me, I also had some sponges snagged and it's getting rather old that people are doing that. I think that's why I am put off today, plus I am sick of Michelle taken her frustration out for mankind on me. I want to walk into her class and have a note on my back that says "Michelle's Punching Bag" written on it and say, "Eh, Michelle, mind taking this note off my back? By doing so, this means you are going to make a conscious effort not to be a bitch to me." I understand that we all have our bad days, but she gives me a lot of shit that I am fed up with...
Plus my computer fell out of my backpack yesterday and hit a big metal lifter. When I think of the sound it made as it crashed, my brain hurts from reliving the sound and what had happened. I knew as I clicked it back to life, that it would be ok, and that if it were broken, I could buy a new one, but I had a mini heart attack as I heard that noise.
I go back and forth about wanting kids all the time. I had a conversation with Barbara Hanger yesterday about her mom. Her mom was sick and they were afraid she was going to die and that was right when I had come back. She doesn't have any kids and she doesn't see it as a bad thing, just a missed opportunity that doesn't dictate her life.
I don't want kids for a more basic reason and that's because I don't ever want anything to have this kind of power over me again. I never want to feel this horrible... but at the same time, I don't know... It's a tough decision, and it's not one I have to make now, women can have kids in their 50s today, and in 10 years, that may even change. Maybe I should just have some eggs frozen for prosperity. Or maybe I should just get my life straightened out before I ever think of wanting kids.
I guess all this though has come about in thinking of Colin and Hannah. I know how much pain it causes to see your little girl hurting, Anne was mine (since for the most part, I was raised her) and when she was sick, it just killed me. But in the same token, I can see how much richer our lives are even if for just a brief moment in time, I was touched by her or I was touched by him.
Just think of how people you know for a month can effect you...
I think of life in a much different light these days, and I don't think you can see what I see unless you have been through it yourself because it's hard to explain.
Roman is having some of those great moments in time in his life right now as well. It's funny that even though we have been separated he can explain something to me and I see it in my mind and can come up with the answer. I miss him, and I get more excited about seeing him over there and his way of life, his friends and family. I get excited when I think about escaping away from this dreaded place.
Then I am sad because my friend, Haddy and her husband, Ryan, are moving to England for 3 years so he can study grass. He's a biologist. I know I shouldn't be sad, but it's like, I knew this might happen, but they weren't sure, so I wasn't counting on it, so it's not like I can think "Oh, Haddy's in Boston and I am bored, so I will call her." There was some comfort in knowing that she was going to be on the same continent but now... I know I shouldn't be sad, and it's no big deal that she's leaving because now she lives in California and it's not like you can say "oh Haddy, darling, I need to borrow a cup of sugar..." but still...
Oh my life is changing. I feel like I am on a Roulette wheel, some parts of my body touching every number and I am spinning uncontrollably. I suppose it beats the hell out of playing Russian Roulette, but I am getting bored because I am not spinning fast enough and I so desperately want to be dizzy again.
I woke up in a puddle this morning. My water bed is leaking. I hate waking up all wet.
Thursday, April 16, 1998

No sleep no sleep...
Whirlwind, capturing it... Tuesday all day in the sun with my sister and her kids, warm fuzzies, listening to Nate and his imagination... getting over the bullshit and just listening to what he has to say... a castle in the sky, super human powers, all the dreams that men carry into adulthood...
Upset, angry with Michelle, not wanting to go to class, forgetting to call Marina for a lesson in Russian... Sleeping Tuesday in the evening. Speaking with the doctor around one am for about an hour. Going to the studio and working, working working, like the day I knew mom was going to die. Dancing to Madonna, enjoying my own company. Accomplishing so much...
Doctor's appointment, more Inderal, more zanex, telling her that I spent Passover with her dead mother in law's husband... telling her (which she is already aware) of Thomas's med problem. Should I feel bad? No, he needs help, but he would never listen to me.
Sleep, precious sleep for an hour and a half and then lovely Jenna calling me to wake me up, like I asked... She is such a treasure. Picking me up in the rain so I don't have to walk to school... Visiting Don, getting champagne for Zack, the opening was yesterday... Jenna turning in late work. Class, looking at photos I did of Jenna this weekend, cursing Winn Dixie for not doing the nudie ones.
Lunch at shitty Chinese restaurant on campus. Poor Jenna and her new flame... she was not happy with his performance, but I don't think I would enjoy being hammered like a nail going into green wood.
Class, thoughts of Goya, thoughts of him, the doctor. Ever so diplomatic... Asking me to get tested without asking. Understanding and a little bit of fear there, as I think we all experience from just not wanting to know... Fearless me, with only my three lovers "You can never be too sure..." his voice trails off in my head.
Phone call to Priscilla, come get me. Bathed before I saw Dr. Simon and the rain gave me fluffy hair, but still a little flat. Make-up, lovely, like an artist should know how to apply to her own face. Missing the red fuck-me lipstick but settling for brown.
Priscilla, nervous, second time on a plane. She curls my hair, I feel like a girl, like I am at a slumber party...
She bought me a top, I had almost kidded her about getting me one earlier, it laid on my bed. Perfect. Long black skirt I desperately missed all winter and finding it as I go through old clothes to give away.
Dressed, frantic, looking for mini camera so Priscilla may photograph today, unable to find it, in the refrigerator is the perfume I love so much. I spray it on my elbows, neck and on the outside of my skirt where my pubic hair rests against my stockings and panties. Joy.
Walking in high heeled shoes, feeling oh so glamorous, thinking "It's an opening, everybody dresses up." Forgetting I am still in college.
Taxi cab to the gallery, $25. I am not used to taking cabs just yet. Seeing Zack outside the gallery smoking a cigarette. His new habit. Pretending not to be so nervous and being indifferent that the people surrounding him love him and think he is wonderful. Getting that kind of affection from a group of people flusters him, I can tell. He later admits how wonderful it was to see the wall of people sitting underneath his work and they were all there for him. His video plays in the background, it's so wonderful and funny, so beautifully Zack.
Drinking white wine and eating chicken wings. Holding Kevin's hands with greasy fingers. Going out to smoke a cigarette. He got into Washington U to finish getting his MFA in writing. Bonding with him...
" Are you glad I came" I ask Zack with a facecsious smile.
" I'm so glad you are here" he answers in a dark and smoky bar. I was so glad to be there, Tuman's, the alcoholic abuse center . The bar we had been to the last time I was there. Seeing all his friends, feeling like a distant part of the club, feeling a little guilty for sitting in Barclay's lap last time I was there, his wife sick, me thinking he was gay. He asked his mother if we were related, I need to find out for sure.
Was going to come home last night, but it would have been a short trip in the gallery since I got there around 6:30 and the next plane out was at 7:45. (What was I thinking). Seeing Dr. Schultze in the airport before we left, telling her I would be in next week to take the test.
Anxiety, mixed with fear of not taking the assessment test, no assessment, no graduating. (another test altogether administered by the University).
Priscilla hungry, wanting to eat at the restaurant across the street from the bar. It is nice, and I am hungry. At first, I didn't want to go, but I soon yielded to her usherings and I am so glad.
Exquisite restaurant, simple, clean. Black chairs and hardwood floors. Shitty (by my standard) boring black and white photos hanging on the wall. Darci, our waitress, so cute, so beautiful. Wanting to serve us, so pleasant, so nice, so giving of herself to get a better tip which worked.
" What do you recommend?" I ask, buzzing from the excitement of the whole night, the circumstances, the absolute pleasure of getting away from my prison for the night. I order the portebella mushroom with oysters. I want to come in my pants when I taste it because I did not anticipate the wonderful flavor that white wine and Italian herbs would lend. The main course is just as delicious, but my senses are heightened to expect something better then I had just eaten, and that was hard to beat until dessert. Lemony tart, so rich I could taste the egg in it as it rolled across my mouth. Priscilla's custard smooth as I imagine a cunt feels against the servicing member's mouth, only this yields into your mouth and you are able to swallow it's walls.
Back to the bar, Jeff and Wendy sitting down. Walking around, not knowing what to do, sitting on the couch underneath a neon sign under a window. Talking to Jeff... He was amazed to find out what a slut I am not. He talks about the giving of yourself and how it can be empty giving up that energy. I smile to myself because we think so much alike in this respect. It cracks me up, the perception people that are acquainted with me feel like since I talk so much about sex and do the kind of art I do that I am a slut or something. We talked about our lovers, and we both only have had 3. Priscilla once set us up on a date and I asked him why he didn't go for me but that's because he views relationships as everlasting and he had a crush on Priscilla at the time.
We talked about his insecurities, and I am amazed at humans... just think how much easier life would be if we accepted who and what we are for just that, and then felt secure that we are just a little bit different from everyone else and that's what it's all about. I tried to make him feel better about himself, but I don't think he listened. Maybe, just a little, I hope. He's a wonderful, gentle, kind man and I think that beats the hell out of what ever his perception of what he "needs" to be. Women have it tough thinking of body image and shit like that, but I feel it has to effect men on a greater level because I can say, "Kate Moss has no tits" and feel better about myself as a woman. I don't think guys have learned that at my age, and by the time they figure it out...
Jeff got sick of talking about his problems, or just uncomfortable. I suppose it's easy for me to make people do this because they talk about themselves to me and I listen and give my opinion and tell them wonderful things that I see in them. Then I think once people open up to you, then they feel awkward, because you have a power over them, a power of understanding more of who they are, and they mildly resent you for it.
I feel asleep on Jeff's chest. I was tired and my batteries had run out.
We went back to Zack, Jeff, and Wendy's place. Jeff gave me clothes to sleep in, silk pajama bottoms that were oh so sensuous. I washed my make-up off and turned on the heater on my side of the bed and crawled in. Zack took Ben home so when he came through the door, I was pretty much out of it. Ben is very nice looking, and he has a sense of style.
Thoughts before I feel asleep included how I am so horny I wish I could die, how wonderful it was to be with great people and this urge to feed Duncan, because I had forgotten to feed him this day.
Guilt guilt guilt... Guilt drove me to rush out of the plane, wearing the clothes I did last night, feeling of being dipped in extra light virgin olive oil. Walking faster, to get home, to take off those damn heels that gave me calluses, blisters, and a swollen ankle from where my bone still hasn't healed from when I broke it when I was in Moscow the first time. They came off when I got out of the elevator and was looking for my car.
Forgetting... forgetting where I had parked, but walking right to my car. The ability of being aware without being aware...
Sitting here now, trying to get all these thoughts out, leaving out how as I sat on the plane, I wished to reach down and caress the landscape and learn the nuisances of it like my face. Flying directly over my house and unable to make it out... Feeling free, loving using an aeroplane like a taxi cab to go where I wish. Nauseous feelings the closer I get to Kentucky. Familiarity breeds contempt...
I missed my class... but that doesn't matter so much, missed Michelle and her neuroticism due to this "empty bowls" mess. Forgot to have lunch with Dr. Dakan Wednesday...
My head is reeling... but I am sleepy.
Saturday, April 18, 1998

Today has been one of the absolute worst days of my life. I have been crying so hard, I wanted to barf.
I left my ceramics teacher a note the other day telling her there reason I didn't come to class was because I couldn't deal with her bitching at me and the other people in the class. That I worked on my stuff alone for 6 hours.
She came up to me and said "I'm trying really hard to be professional about that note you left. You called me a bitch"
" I did not, I said you were bitching at me."
" Same thing. I would have never have called my professor a bitch. I would never come back to class after that."
Implying that I shouldn't be there. So what the fuck? I want to graduate. I don't understand how anyone can be so mean. There goes thunder over Louisville now. I'm sitting in my house, crying, not watching the fireworks, miserable because tomorrow I have to be around my brother who hates me and my ceramics teacher is going to fail me and I am not going to get to graduate. My mom is dead and I want my mommy. I hurt so bad. I just don't understand how anyone can be so mean.
I didn't do anything mean to her. And I am still fucked up over my mom. How can you expect anyone to suffer a loss such as this to be in their rational mind? She's bragged to me about how one woman was so upset and she asked her for help and she told her to go take a flying leap. That woman hasn't come back because she was so upset. It's like she gets a kick out of being cruel to people, especially if they are the weaker ones of the herd.
I think I should talk to the head of the department about this, but he's hates me so I think on Monday, I will go talk to Dean Carter He helped me out when I tried to kill myself and ever since then, when I see him, he is so nice to me. Asks how my art is doing and remembers who I am. And I think I just need to go talk to him and tell him how I have been trying really hard to take care of my classes and that I really need to graduate.
deep breath... I have been up and down all day... I can't deal with this emotional bullshit... it's too much.
Sunday, April 19, 1998

I was really hoping to sneak in the Laundromat and do my laundry without anyone noticing what I was doing. I took up 8 washers, double washers so naturally the attendant noticed. I don't think I have done laundry in 2 months, but I would have to read back and check. That's way too many clothes. It's time to go back through the journal and figure it out (March 15th... how could I have so many fucking clothes in a month?). It's not that I don't like doing laundry, I love it. I love the process of the whole thing, the dirty clothes getting clean and smelling fresh again. It's a rejuvenating process. I killed my washer at my house last year, just when I though I was free of the Laundromat. I was so happy to be moving into a house, not because it was bigger, but because it had a washer and dryer. It took about a year for it to die.
I do not relish the idea of being left alone with this attendant. And it looks like this may happen. He talks to me and I am usually a very personable person, but he is one of those people you don't want to be nice to because he may take it the wrong way. Besides, I have felt his gaze upon my chest and it leave me feeling dirty in a bad way. (There goes Todd... he dropped his laundry off... he's such a wonderful man.)
Overview of the last few days... Friday we ganged up on Thomas. He thought that he could spend that money at his discretion. Well, when I talked to mom's best friend so long ago she said mom was on the phone with him telling him that when she died, it was not his money. But he was good. He paid money on things he wanted so he could say "I paid for that" and keep it when mom died. He's such a fucker.
So Friday we gathered together with the lawyer and mom's money manager and ironed out all the wrinkles. What a mess. I was so nervous. I even got an elevated migraine over the everyday one! I hate this kind of confrontation. The lawyer told him over and over that he had to give back the money, but since he's medicated, none of it sinks in.
Now fast version... I have 10 minutes before my clothes are done...
Said to the lawyer that I know we are taking a major fucking... and Thomas knew that. I hate him, I think of everything he's done to me and how fucking mean he was to mom. Yelling at her at the top of his lungs, bruising my ribs, almost breaking Anne's arm... often yelling at us, but the worst I must concede was the way he manipulated mom into doing what he wanted. How he watched and learned from how she treated Anne and me and then picked on her weaknesses... This leaves me feeling very unsettled... there was nothing I could do.
Friday night with Jenna. We tell each other how wonderful we are all the time. She's such a wonderful person. I wish I could keep a little part of her in my pocket all the time. Drinks at the Bristol. Me wearing my new corset. Smoking cigarettes again... white wine, chicken and lovely conversation. I feel so good, so happy to be alive. It's nice to share time with someone who is like me... I wish I could feel this way always.
Saturday with Michelle, you know how that went. 2 pm... plans to meet Melissa at the mall so I can shop and Jenna and Melissa can meet. They love each other, I am thrilled. I shop... I spend lots of money because I have already cried so hard I wanted to puke. I buy lots of nice things... fem stuff to smell pretty from H2O, thongs, bras (I discovered I have been buying the wrong cup size and have just been in denial... they are bigger then I thought) A black fuck me dress that shows my cleavage. I feel awkward showing so much of my body off. I have never been comfortable showing off my breasts. Godiva Chocolate, liquid gold and silver Guerlain eye liner. I feel so empty. I am not enjoying shopping. It is not making me feel better, I want my mommy. I cry in the dressing room while Jenna, Melissa, and Colin wait for me. I do not understand how someone could be so cruel. I cry as I walk down the mall, my face contorted as people walk by... trying to hold it in but the tears flowing. Melissa and her consoling words, her motherly advice. I am glad I have her.
I hold the baby close to me. I feel him, all baby and happy and I can't help but feel better. Feel human again.
I wake up, hearing Priscilla puking. My eyes swollen like a cartoon caricature. I do not recognize myself. Some one I respected, someone I cared about... how could she be so cruel? A call from Mikey, I haven't heard from her in years... she tells me about jealousy, she tells me how people are envious of talent. She talks to me, calms me down. She tells me how mom influenced her life. More tears... I want my mommy to protect me from Michelle. She once said "never give your mom your first piece of pottery, she will bring it out and embarrass you when you can do better." I bury my piece with my mother... I have this to remember her the rest of my life... I am paralyzed. I ran from the studio yesterday, not covering my stuff properly. I call at midnight and Jenny answers, "please cover my stuff."
" It's already dry..."
I just can't afford to give a shit... I am an open wound, and I am beginning to wonder how beneficial going away will be. If I stay, I will wilt further. If I go... I will escape this mess, but what awaits me? I am starting to feel insecure and I don't like it. Now I remember why I wanted to live away from people as a teen.
I have a substantial dowry now. China, pots and pans, knowledge how to cook... And then I ask myself, what's the point to all this material bullshit? So I can think of my kids throwing it out, as Thomas threw unmatched China down that hill? He always threw mom's stuff away. She would cry sometimes, no... she would cry a lot.
Listening to Nate Poynter, him happy to see me this morning. Lesli opening the door when I came in with out a shirt, holding Noah. I take out my camera and start photographing. The light, the baby, her, so beautiful. Winn Dixie will not do these photos because you can see her nipples.
Picking up plates, silver, non essentials. Memories attached to her crystal that was never used unless I did and broke it. Trying to understand her fascination with shit. Memories attached to a vase made in Italy. Nobody picks it so I can have it when it's my turn. Vague remembrances of a china pattern Anne says was mom and dad's when they first married.
Thinking how mom never lost anyone close to her as I pull in the driveway. Thinking to myself the only things she ever lost close to her were two grandmothers. Hating her for not understanding how much she has hurt me by watching her die before my eyes. Hating that she is not around to hear the bullshit Thomas is pulling. Hating that she is not here to protect me. And loving her for putting that spirit in me that will make sure that I go talk to the dean tomorrow about school.
Nobody has a right to be cruel to me, not when I am a paying customer. Not when my mother died. Not when I am trying really hard not to use that as an excuse not to finish the semester.
Oh how gloriously I hurt today. It's almost comforting, like an old skin I put on every once in a while to remind me of who I am and where I came from. The one just a little snug in the wrong places to cause discomfort so I remember how I felt like this for most of my young life. I do not understand jealously, because I couldn't imagine anyone being jealous of this life I have led, this horrible, traumatic, wonderful life that has been but a blink of my eye. I am the way I am because I choose to not be consumed with my problems so much. I think for the most part I am successful, but I am having to kill old habits that mom taught me, about not letting go... and re-evaluating what being a woman means to me.
Monday, April 20, 1998

My computer is dying a slow painful death ever since I dropped her... Sigh...
I walk to school, trying to get rid of some of this energy and I feel my shoe moving back and forth until it rubs a blister on the back. I spoke with the dean's secretary and she made me an appointment despite her saying he shouldn't see me.
I sit in his office, he is kind and he is gentle. He listens to everything. He tells me that I should try to work this out with her. He tells me to go to the head of the department. He tells me I can file a grievance with her.
I walk off, determined to settle this mess. She is not in the studio. I work on the lopsided bowl I threw last Tuesday that was a little too dry.
I go to class, I go to lunch. Jenna is full of interesting information. She is such a wonderful person.
I met with Ph.D. Van Ausdale to discuss making up some work. She asks me what is wrong, and I tell her. She explains further circumstances of behavior. Possibilities that I can not consider since I am still a student.
She makes me laugh, and I cried. She just listens to what I have to say and can give to me what I need to hear about all kinds of life's little mysteries. Mom did that. I try not to seek out a mother, because I know nobody can fill in that gap, but it's comforting having someone that can talk to me on the level that my mom did, even if it is for but a brief moment in time. She says wonderful things that make me understand why things are the way they are. She sees pieces of herself in me and I learn from her experiences, her mistakes that she tells me she has made.
I leave feeling better then I have since mom died. Nobody can ever put a value on kind words or sentiment. I suppose I am sentimental, but that's because I believe in sincerity. In good values and I hold myself up to these values and push myself towards them.
Sometimes, I push other people too, only instead of being elevated, they get pushed aside or away from me. This is something I need to work on.
I am tired, and I need to baby sit Colin because Melissa is in Nashville tonight. Too bad I have done all my laundry. I will go sleep before I have to pick him up.
Tuesday, April 21, 1998

No time... no FUCKING TIME TO DO SHIT!
Before, I could put everything off until the last moment. Now, I can't.
Priorities:
Finish Ceramics
Take Russian Oral Test tomorrow
Take Assessment Test the 29th
Write 3 10 page papers (Valy first, then freedom, then Guerilla Girls)
Write one 3 page paper for Van Ausdale, critique an article, and a paper on a painting in the Speed
Call USAA for insurance on cars and camera
take a dump

Notice how taking a shit is the last thing on my list. I can't fucking believe me. I know I will get most of it done... deep breath... and it doesn't have to be great quality.
I went to Ceramics today. I am sure Michelle was surprised to see me. Her only comment to me was "I don't think we can fire that." A bottle I had been working on.
Came home and went to sleep, Colin wore me out. Strange how taking care of him... how I woke in the night so easily, but I am a very light sleeper, anyway. He cried last night, for the first time. I have never seen him cry like that and it made me a bit sad.
Lucille, this admirable woman in the ceramics department pointed out how my lop sided bowl had been rejected. Michelle place it on the floor underneath the rejection shelf so it was not easily discernible. I also found a mug from the mugs I did before mom died. It was rejected because of the glaze, and I knew one was missing, but every time I looked on that shelf, I missed it. Lucille is an inspiration to me. She is nice to everyone no matter what...
My tummy is unsettled, I want to puke, but I must read...
Wednesday, April 22, 1998

They say procrastination is a form of anger...
I had all this negative energy and I laid on the floor and forced it out of my body. This may sound hokey, but it felt good and painful, like expelling a demon. My body shook, it was a weird sensation and once it was over, I felt this overwhelming sense of calm. I do not deal well with adversity and I have a test in ceramics tomorrow. I can't stand this.
I talked with Anne, the doctor, Haddy, Melissa, Dana, my sister, my grandmother and I am sure I am forgetting someone, but I forgot to call Tanya. I suppose I am putting off the inevitable and I need to force myself to stop.
I woke up this morning and tried to read an article but my mind isn't there. Maybe there are worse things then taking incompletes. There are worse things then not graduating as well. Deep breath.
I ran into a class mate from my Russian class so long ago and told him mom died and he couldn't believe that I was trying to finish up. He admired me and through other people's admiration, I get this amazing feeling that I can not articulate into words. One girl that said she admired me I told "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you admire me. It means so much..." because I feel so empty, so raw. She had tears in her eyes when I told her how much I appreciated this.
Anne and I had one of the best discussions of or lives last night. We talked about how her room-mate and how she told Anne that she was so mean to everybody that it hurt and that people can't stand to be around her. She thought about it, and observed that even her horses were having a hard time being around her. Then she started crying because she realized that she doesn't want to be that kind of person any longer.
I cried. She told me how her math professor's sister has breast cancer. Then Anne told her how her cancer doctor invented some kind of math problem. Her teacher looked at her in disbelief and then she let it all spill out and when I heard her word it, I started crying because we have been through so much. I guess I have always got off on other people's reaction to what I have been through because I don't allow myself to feel anything for it... I can't feel sorry for myself, but I do realize that it's pretty amazing and horrible all at the same time.
My computer is dying a slow painful death, and I can't deal with that very well. I guess it sorta passed the gravity test in assuring that gravity is still on this earth, but it did not enjoy landing on a fork lift.
Sigh... So Anne doesn't want to be such an evil person any longer, that make me so happy. Realizing this stuff is just half the battle. Once you realize something that you don't like about yourself, then at least you can strive to change it, and if it doesn't bother you that much... then I guess you have to deal with it on your own. Why am I saying such hokey shit today?
So I thought of a new saying as I was driving home the other day... "You don't want to ride someone's ass because you will eventually slip on shit." That's the metaphor I am using with this whole Michelle situation.
Thursday, April 23, 1998

My cheeks are cold from walking home... ran into Jason Theilmier, he looks happy, he's getting married. Talk to his love about ceramics, etc. I may have come across as a bitch, but... I'm working on that as well.
Tanya from school talked about how the methods I enlist to defend myself should go down because it is not beneficial to me as I get older, a problem that has occurred with her, and I value other people's experiences because it's so hard just living anyway.
Worked my ass off last night on projects. Went to class this morning, got an 85 on my cylinder test. I fucked up the first mound of clay even when I had 10 inches... shit happens and the second one was better. Michelle had to be civil to me today.
Came home and slept a coma sleep, did not wish to rise for my last art and politics class, but I did after eating biscuits and humus that Priscilla had ready.
Excellent class on post modernism. Kloner always hurts my brain.
I think more now of what it means to be a woman. We are told what to be our entire lives and then I get older and realize that I never really had a female perspective of what it means to be a woman. I was educated in the traditional dominate male European thought and that is not right for me. Time to change, but to what? I can't stray so far on my own, even though I am already out there, I still have to find a balance between what I believe is right and what is socially acceptable. Besides, I like fucking even though I haven't been properly fucked in a while.
He discussed how language is unreliable... which it is, you know how frustrated I am with this limited language in which it's so hard to express myself properly.
Smell of oil paint, a frightening image Doug (my brother in law) painted stares at me with a fucked up green face. He is talented. Jenna is coming by for a while. Girl down time. I can't wait to tell her about class tonight. She's the bomb.
Friday, April 24, 1998

So I can walk in graduation when it happens, I don't know why I was afraid that I wouldn't get to walk since they only do it once a year. Plus I do have a Russian degree so...
Today has been a butt kicking day. Jenna called me around 10 and we went out for breakfast again. We went to Shoney's on Wednesday and Lynn's Paradise Cafe today. I couldn't even begin to eat all my food even though I was so hungry.
PhD Ziegler told me last night I could take an incomplete in my art and politics class if I need to. Big Sigh. Talked to Sydney on Wednesday and got that done. I think I am going to actually succeed, kids. I can't fucking believe it.
I hate doubting myself. Doubt is basically a form of fear and I try not to fear much although there are those insecurities in there.
I love Jenna. If I could love more people like I love her, I could be happy the rest of my life. I hope it fucking lasts forever because I am starting to see the pertinence of lasting relationships where power isn't abused. I could never imagine feeling bad around her anymore. If it weren't for her to listen to me and start making me take pictures of her, I don't know where I would be now. Probably still moping. She asked me why we didn't know each other sooner and I told her that we get what we need when the time is right and it just worked out that I really needed her and was accepting of asking for help. Plus she loves the photos I do of her, so...
It's a yummy sunny day, and Jenna is waiting for me outside...
Saturday, April 25, 1998

I think today is Andy's birthday... Isn't that awful, I spent 5 years with him and I can't remember if today is his birthday... No, it's the 28th.
I am rather anxious now. I have to wait a few hours to call my aunt that lives in Spain back. I would like to stay with her, but if she says no then I will stay in a hostel and write her off as being another Clay. She was always my favorite aunt (my mom was an only child) though, so I just can't imagine her saying no but last time Thomas called, he said she wasn't so kind... but then again, that's Thomas. I think I may take a bus up to New York... just one of those fleeting moments when I think about this kind of stuff. I am sure that the bus is nicer then the ones I rode to Yaroslavl last summer. Plus the roads are nicer here as well.
I had a dream about Leticia last night as well. I hope I can see her too but I will not count on it. There are very few definites in this life, this I have learned from being in Russia and other experiences.
To get Aunt Betsy's number I had to call my grandmother who I just abhor, even more so now. I do not like anything about this woman, but that's just from her not caring and her hypocritical Southern genteel manner. And why should she be the one that is still alive? Old Crone. Tried to comfort me in telling me that time will heal all wounds. Fuck you. If I wanted your comfort, don't you think I would have called you sooner instead of just asking you for Betsy's number?
I hate her because I do not want my life to emulate hers in any way, shape, or form. She got married because she was pregnant and she treated my mom like shit because she was from the other side of the tracks. She divorced my grandfather after 50+ years... It's like, if you were that unhappy for so long, why bother?
I hated talking to her and listening to the falseness of her Southern coo. Shudder. I think I am going to go take a bath now. If I knew it was going to bother me this much, I don't think I would have done it, but I do want to see my Aunt Betsy! I hope it works out.
God! I have so much shit to do!!! And I have a whopping fucking migraine to top that off. God dammit!
Sunday, April 26, 1998

I slept because the medication made me drowsy. Jenna got home and Andy was coming by so we got ready and went out to eat at Ruth Chris's Steak-house . I put on silver eye liner and looked all girlie. Jenna thinks it's funny how much I can change from how I look like a little girl when I go to class and how I look like a "vixen" when we go out.
That made me smile. We were being bitchy, commenting on people. There was this one woman that just looked oh so cheap. I'm glad I have a sense of glamour and style. These types of women also tend to be the ones that don't understand life outside their own little world. They get their sense of style from Glamour and buy clothes from where, I have no clue.
I am congested today, and trying to stave off a yucky illness, but I don't think I will be successful. Too much stress.
Well... I need to bathe.
Wednesday, April 26, 1998

In the depths of feeling sub-human... I am getting angry. My tears are just a complication... an instant fix. I delve further into the depths of hatred I hold only for certain people and the faces of Michelle and my father stare back at me.
She has done it, I am filing a grievance. She told me after I busted my ass that my stuff holds last priority since it was "late." That's discriminatory. Other people glazed their work today as well.

I ran... and ran... I didn't know if it was out of anger, fear, or just the actual frustration of my situation at the moment. I look at her and say "I have a right to an education as well..." She ushers me into the other room where I dropped my computer on the fork lift.
Her eyes, wide as saucers stare back at me, amazed to hear me speaking of rights amazed at me, standing up to her. I am amazed as well. Quit whining and do something about it. No misunderstandings. She is being kind and almost sympathetic. I don't think you can tell I had been crying, my eyes are always so white... the strangest compliment made by Lisa's ex over 6 years ago... "You have the whitest eyeballs of anyone I know." (I suppose this is one reason why my gaze is so intense, dark hazel eyes with white, white eyeballs)
Something I have needed to work on, I cave in too easy on occasion and I don't like that about myself because then I am second guessing my motives, the other person's as well. But asserting myself causes problems as well because there is such a fine line...
I spoke on the phone with Zack yesterday about all kinds of deep feelings and what we see about each other. He says to me that he sees me more for who I am because he won't put up with my shit, my defense mechanisms, my basic insecurities and that is why we have a stronger relationship. Put that way, I agree with him, and I respect him more for that. That's something I have yet to find in a straight man, but I think I may have found it. But now what?
" I want what I love and I like it that way..." A line from a song by the Dead that my computer art professor just told me. I got an A!!! I knew of all my classes, this would be the one I would do well in because I actually give a shit.
He's writing a book and the concept just amazes me. So many levels... You would have to hear him explain it because I can't possibly do it justice, but he has given me some great ideas.
I hate riding up and down like a roller coaster. I wish I could stay on an even keel, but that just isn't possible at this point in my life. I am in such a yummy mood now. I am so sleepy as well. Smile... Sleep... food... thinner fumes that are making me high... papers. Fuck, I am not going to stress that right now...
Good job, Miss Clay, you got one A!
Tuesday, April 28, 1998

I am mildly insane at this point. I spoke with my brother in law last night and he told me that there was no stress in the workplace like there is in school. So that made me wonder... if you don't push yourself, how do you expect to grow and change?
I rather like this aspect of my personality although it has caused many problems. I am so fucked. I have to write a 10 pages paper tonight and study for a final tomorrow. Why am I so bad? Fuck...
I am going to go to Jenna's tonight and work on my laptop while she writes a paper as well. I have to run and turn in a study I did of a painting in the Speed now. Why do I do this to myself?
I talked with my therapist today and he said I was giving way too much power to Michelle, and I know he is right. Then I spoke with a girl in my class and she told me that Michelle came in after she made me cry and asked what I had said and she told her that I was upset and so the girl told me that I had hurt Michelle's feelings when I had written that note. This is such a crock of shit.
If I hurt her feelings, then why didn't she just say so? Then again, why can't I just tell her she hurt mine, I think it's rather obvious that she hurt my feelings when she made me cry and humiliated me in front of the class on March the tenth. Sigh... Learn to let it go... just let it go because in a week, none of this shit will really matter anyway.
Wednesday, April 29, 1998

I just finished my bullshit assessment test and found a mistake on the math part! ME, find a mistake on the math???? What the fuck is up with that?
Big sigh... ah... some relaxation. One paper done. It wasn't 10 pages, but there wasn't enough information to keep bullshitting over and over again. I can't fucking believe I am almost done. Now if I take the weekend and work on those other two papers, then I will have the most stress relieved!!!
It's just getting started that makes it so fucking miserable. I just don't give a shit any more.
I finished with my test and I am invading a class where the teacher let me sit here and work on my web-page while his students are working on a final. How fucking cool is that? He's good looking and foreign too.
I ran into Sarah France's ex, he's Hungarian and I had a crush on him when I was dating Andy. He told me how they split and he asked how Andy was and I told him we broke up and I think he may be interested, but I am not sure. I got his phone number, he can show me around Budapest this summer (the new Prague!), that would be nice.
Then he was like, "You lost a lot of weight." My normal wise ass self would comment that I lost 200 pounds (Andy... hahahahaha) but I looked at him and said "My mom died..."
" I was afraid to ask."
" Well, when something like that happens... you just don't notice food and stuff." I am also wearing a clingy skirt, so it shows off my legs, which are really nice for a fat chick. Sometimes I think back to the days when I didn't have a chest... I wonder how I would look if I had to have a mastectomy. I think if I had to choose, I would lop off a tit before I would cut out an ovary, but I fucking hope I never have to make that decision.
On the good news front, me mate, Peter is getting cortisone shots in his back so he is now able to function as a normal human (he fucked up his back), and I am happy for him.
Makes me get all teary eyed and think back to the days when I still had adhesions in my vagina from a botched surgery and I had to have cortisone shots in my vagina. The anesthesiologist injecting me thought I was faking it because I was just so fucking happy not to be in pain that I didn't flinch as she sadistically injected that searing, thick liquid into the walls of my vagina. You know when I was excited about having a sharp metal object inserted into my vagina so I could go home and fuck Andy... that's just a sad state of affairs.
I listened to her (it was not the first time a doctor had told me I was faking it) and cried a lot then I found a really good surgeon, Dr. Purcell, that told me I was fucked up and he fixed me so I am like "new." Now it doesn't hurt so much to walk, sit, or even fuck anymore, but I am still aware that there is a scar.
So that's two lessons I have to share today... if you know there is something wrong with your body, (and only you know, you are the one living in it!), and a "doctor" tells you that you are fine, always, ALWAYS, ALWAYS get a second opinion, even if it's simple, and NEVER EVER get cut without a second opinion.
But the most important lesson is
NEVER, EVER CUT YOU SEXUAL ORGANS UNLESS IT'S GOING TO FALL OFF!
It fucking hurts because you never realize how they effect EVERYTHING you do. Walking... sitting... sleeping... swimming... horseback riding... (get it? hahahahaha) Thursday, April 30, 1998

Zack and Me at his opening

So today is the last day of April... thank fucking God. This has been a very bizarre month, to say the least.
I can't believe I am almost done! I have an article to write, an essay to finish, 2 papers, today I have my ceramics final, and I need to film some stuff for my independent study class and have it edited next week, and one more test. Sigh... You have no idea how much that Baroque class bothered me.
I did something really stupid and listened to the graduate students tell me that Ph.D. Buser wouldn't ask about Goya when I knew, I fucking knew that he would. Well, I wasn't able to give dates and all that jazz, but I don't really give a fuck, it's over and if I make a D I will just be oh so happy to have this all finished and behind me.
I ate by myself yesterday. It was a very odd sensation because I am so used to people being around me. There was this girl, Emily, in my class and we talked for four hours yesterday instead of studying, four fucking hours! I know she was a bit put off by it but we kept seeing sunlight outside so we only thought an hour or two had passed. I was fucking amazed. We talked about everything under the sun.
It was so weird. I tried to explain to her how you could read people if you look at them and see how they carry themselves and you can tell so much about a person... Most people think you can tell by the words they use, but I like throwing people for a loop when I say "cunt" or other words because it's not expected.
I got Jenna saying "cunt" now. I didn't see or talk to her yesterday and now I am going through withdrawal. She told me the other day "What am I going to do when you leave?" I really wanted to start crying because I for some fucked up reason am such a people pleaser that I didn't want to disappoint her with my absence. But... I feel like this is something I need to do so I can finish growing up.
So... Emily was telling me about how she worked for this lady as a nanny and she was demanding more and more of her time (she arrived at 6:30 ever morning to get one child ready for school as the parents slept, took it to school, took care of the baby all day, and I think another kid was thrown in there somewhere and she wasn't get paid diddly squat) until she finally wanted to quit and when she told the lady she was quitting, she said "I KNEW YOU WOULD DO THIS TO ME!"
I looked at Emily and said, "She did it before."
She replied with "She did it right after that with another girl."
And I said, "You can tell so much about a person by listening to what they have to say. That woman did it before and had it happen to her because if you listened to what she was saying, she was basically at her wits end trying to figure out why her nannies were leaving her. Then she would use the kids as a way to manipulate you."
I can't stand people that don't take on their responsiblities.
This computer has just about had it. Not a year old even... I swear... drop it on one little fork lift and see what happens...

 

 

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