Sunday, March 1, 1998

Yet again, another delicious day. I walk out in my back yard, naked, since there is a privacy fence to feel the sun's warmth against my skin, but at the same time there is that chill in the air that reminds you that this is a bittersweet type of experience.

I am working on becoming a better parent to myself. I am also thinking of my good attributes more and more because I think I am basically a good person, as are most people, but I like to think I have that little extra umph that a lot of people are lacking inside of themselves and I give mine away so freely.

It's so strange to have such massive control over my life now. It's mine, all mine and I don't have to share my thoughts or occupy my head with worry about mom any longer.I can use that energy for other things. One of the things I am starting to learn how to do is to care for myself. I was never really taught how to do this and it's a slow process. I make me feel whatever way I feel and outside influences are just that. If you really think about it, nobody can hurt your feelings unless you take what they say about you to heart, including me. You have that power over yourself, and if you let someone else have that power, then you aren't being fair to yourself.

I let mom do it to me because well, she was my mom. But nobody is going to take her place and that's a good thing. Besides, I am my own worst critic, I say the worst things you would never hear me say to other people and that shit has to stop. I need to learn to love myself more and more, and there isn't anything wrong with that even though society thinks there is. The more I am good to myself, the more I am able to give OF myself, and that's saying a lot.

I found myself over the past few months giving into the desire of wanting to be anorexic and I started following through with some of my behavior and that's just not very good right now. Over the summer, Lena (my host mom in Russia) gave me so much shit about my weight that I quit eating around her and eventually just quit eating. One time, after 3 days of not eating I ate this treat called a Turkish Delight and I thought I was going to come in my pants. People don't relate how sex and food have so much to do with each other.

This shit isn't right... I know it's not right and that I should either just accept it or try something different to lose weight, but then again, I am American and we are a nation of extremists. Either this or that, no in between.

When it all boils down to it, though, it doesn't really matter. Weight is an obsession we all have and if you weren't worried about your weight, or if it didn't occupy at least 10% to 50% of your thoughts a day, what could you spend that energy on?

I heard a joke that went If we spent as much time in the Space program as we did on breast enhancement, we would be serving hot dogs on the moon. The same philosophy could be applied to weight and the billion dollar diet industry.

Although part of me wants to fit in the standard, part of me fights it and says fuck it. This was one of my mother's obsessions and I suppose I can let it go and accept myself for what I am, just like I gave up the ghost of having porn-star white hair (IF it was going to be blond, like my mother wanted, then it was going to be porn-star white).

Besides, I have gigantic tits.

Monday, March 2, 1998

Madonna's new album comes out today or tomorrow. I will buy it, naturally because she is oh so wonderful.

Yesterday ended up being a pretty awful day. I was haunted by this other journal writer's life and... it's funny how she allowed herself to fall into that pit of despair we all try to get out of. She's an excellent writer, but she was making herself out to be a victim and made some poor choices which damaged her self esteem even further and I wondered all day how easily it could have been me.

I mean, really, what makes me different from this woman that decided to live a life of drugs and prostitution? I am just a cracker white girl that was protected from a lot of things because my family wanted to shelter me even though I sought out something that was just a little bit different. But to go to those extremes... I just wanted to reach out to her and tell her that I understand how she feels, that it's easier to give into that despair when you are in it then it is to come out of it. Then I started to think maybe she was allowing the journal to rule her life and would do certain things just to say she had done them.

Funny how Hollywood would probably glorify her for her stint of prostitution and for me, my stint of going to college would be frowned upon. I hate that so many actresses have won awards for that type of role, especially since they have never experienced that kind of pain... I think that's one thing missing today in Hollywood is depth. I mean some people obviously have it but I can't really think of an American actress off the top of my head that holds the allure of let's say, Jane Mansfield? Granted, she is an icon but she led a life of pleasure and pain all packaged up into the perfect female, HA!

Plus Anne was here and she tried to use guilt to make me come see her and that just made me feel even worse so I wasn't going to go out to Lesli's to see how miserable they both were. Thomas managed to spend $2700 in 14 days. Pretty cool, eh? But his name isn't on the credit card, so Poppa canceled it. I have to laugh. In less then one month he accumulated that debt. I could go to Russia on that money and live rather nice. $2700! A-fucking-mazing. I think he believes that his mommy is still here to protect his ass. Or that he will just use his inheritance to pay for it, I don't fucking know, all circuits are busy.

I have so much work to do... and I just can't motivate myself to do a damn thing. Well, it's only Monday, so hopefully the week will get better. I think Daddy was there last night to see Thomas, or my step-cunt-monster. The car he bought for his step daughter (just a little resentment) was there last night. He does not want to get involved with this shit. No, sir, he doesn't.

Lesli made me understand how Thomas was projecting himself on to her when he said a bunch of shit when mom died and how she was the villain. She also lied when she said she destroyed a journal mom was keeping the first summer I was in Russia and mom was pissed at everyone but me. Anne started tearing up. (Anne has lived in a fantasy world and she's allowed to, shit, if I had been through half... wait, she's my sister I have been through a lot with her, but she has had it even worse then me because of poor decisions she made and bad genes). She just doesn't understand how Thomas can be the way he is and how mom could have been so angry with her.

I told her right there, just because mom was your mother, it doesn't mean what she did to you or any of us was right. Mom resented Anne for moving to Lexington and probably resented Anne for getting sick because for a while, Anne got more attention then she did with her cancer. Isn't that just awful to be jealous of your daughter having cancer?

Mom fucked up a lot, but she was my mother, and I can forgive her because no matter what, she was there for me. That doesn't mean she was a saint or I will value some of the fucked up things she did to us. I know what she was doing was wrong and I said something to her about it before she died and she acted like she wasn't aware of what she was doing.

The one most fucking important lesson I have learned was that I will fight my damnedest to keep anybody from controlling my mind. She went from one relationship from her daddy to her first husband to her second husband to her son and they all controlled her even though she acted like they didn't. God, thank you for allowing me not to be born in the fucking forties!

Daddy's birthday is the 14th. I think I will send him a birthday card with that photo in it wishing him a happy birthday and that I hope he enjoys getting older now that mom is dead. Fucker. I despise him. I hope he doesn't try to get involved...

And now for Earl's though of the day... (he really grinds those gears). If companies want highly trained workers, then why in the fuck aren't they pumping money into the system? I mean the education we receive in school isn't really an education in life, it just gives us the tools to work for someone else and be their slave. No thanks. I have Ani Di Franco to use as a role model.

Plus, by the time we graduate from school, have kids, buy a house, are in debt to our ears, we are thinking "what the fuck is this? I haven't EVEN begun to experience life or it's pleasures!" That's why men have mid-life crises and women... what do women do? Go to college and get their own fucking life.

Tuesday, March 3, 1998

So... I am feeling pretty good. Really fucking exhausted. I moved all my furniture from mom's house today and I am just...

Thomas freaked. He doesn't understand how I could do this to him. I guess betrayal comes in many forms and he just couldn't IMAGINE that I would do this to him.

HA! FUCKER! I hate, just HATE that things came to this, that I couldn't trust him with my stuff, but OH did it feel GOOD to realize that I was hurting him just as bad. I am not a Christian, I don't believe in that "do unto others" bullshit unless it ends with "before they do unto you." Dad used to say that to me and he hurt me the most so I just don't believe in being good to others so much.

Shit, I wrote a poem in high school where I said I didn't even trust my fucking self and that's saying a lot. What had I learned by the age of 18? That I couldn't trust myself... WEll, I am much wiser, even though I am only 19.

Well, I am beat and am going to sleep.

Wednesday, March 4, 1998

So... I mentally feel much better now that my furniture is moved. I feel like Thomas doesn't have such a hold on me. And there were some really nice pieces that I took. Especially my desk.

He yelled at me for taking the kitchen table. I think Jenn and I found at least 3 kitchen tables in that house. My mom was a pack rat and I hope to god I never get as bad as she was. I need to photograph those pieces.

My muscles aren't as sore as I thought they would be and I suppose I am not as tired as I thought I would be because I am not giving that energy to worry any longer because I got off my ass and did something about it.

Jenn and I had a long talk about life. She thinks I am too morbid, but I suppose (and I didn't tell her) that by documenting what has happened to me, I feel like I can express myself in a more conducive manner then just by writing it all down because fucking language sucks and does not define all the feelings. Besides, as a photographer, I can speak any language.

So, I came to the conclusion that friends... Friends are the people we all rely on to help us out and support us and I don't feel like many of my friends support me in the way I support them. I mean... what do I mean? Maybe I give too much of myself to certain people and it's... fucking language. I suppose I shouldn't feel bad about being giving of myself, it's just part of my personality and there are people out there that are going to take advantage of me. If you are going to play with fire, you better suffer the burns.

Anyway, Jenn and I had this discussion about wanting and needing things last night. Her lover wants her to NEED her like we need air and shit like that, and of coarse I think we all desire to feel that way about someone in our life, just once. But she's not giving that to him. She doesn't NEED anything. And she looked at me and said "You are the same way." And it burned. I don't know why it hurt so much, because maybe I have never wanted to say it out loud and to hear it actually spoken...

She's right though, I don't need anything. My family needs certain things, external validation for life, but really I don't. I desire my desk, and if I could hide that inside of me and pull it out when I wanted it I would be VERY happy. Actually, I think this fucking desk is the first external object that has ever brought me great pleasure. Jenn and I stared at it in the sun yesterday as we moved it and just looked at it in awe. I don't think there is one piece of metal holding it together. It looks like it belongs in a museum.

BUT IT'S MINE!!!!!!

Maybe I am attaching my feelings for my mom into this desk, and putting way too much importance on it, but I think that's allowed.

So... I can smile today. I am not exhausted from worry and it fucking feels great. Plus I am getting a check in the mail from school, so I am able to afford more.

Michelle and I had a talk yesterday. She's giving me a hard way to go because she assumed that I was getting compassion from other people in the art department and I told her I just wasn't. Not many of the professors like me because of the scandal I caused and I don't feel loved over there.

Tanya (the ceramicist) told me because I am a strong woman, people aren't going to be very compassionate. People don't understand that you need some warmth and that if I want it, I am going to have to ask for it and that pisses me off. Is suppose you can win for winning.

So, I had to tell Michelle that I wasn't getting much compassion from anybody (Dr.Van Ausdale is GREAT!!!) because my family, they all bitch and moan and are scared so I have to give that comfort and support to all of them AND go to school (I GOT A C ON THE TEST I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO FAIL!!! YEA ME!) AND go to work AND have a life some where in there. And people get tired of hearing this shit. so I am going to stop.

Anyways... ahh... relief. Score one for the females. Thomas really had hoped things weren't going to change, but when I found out he could sell my stuff then I got pissed and moved it. Jenn's mom owns The Antique Ranch and he knows it, so he was having a fucking cow!

I was wondering how long it would take Lisa to show her true colors... When Thomas was ranting and raving about not having a kitchen table she said "well, you can put down a blanket!" What a dummy. I'm glad she is here to occupy his time, but I will never trust her like I did in high school, I have grown up and know what it's like to be treated like a friend, not how she treated me.

The Care and Feeding of Your Pussy is the Earl thought of the day. He bought it at a yard sale and has just been waiting to give it to someone. I hope he brings it to me.

So... today is a typical Ky weather day. Started off cold, snowed a little, got sunny and warmed up and now it's fucking raining. I wish it would snow one more time instead of this little sneezy shit.

I'm wearing pig-tails today. My head is cold now from walking in the rain, but I am pretty warm. I guess it was a good decision to wear my big, thick wooly sweater, although there were two other girls wearing similar outfits over in the art department. Oh well, Ciest la vie.

I have decided I am a Woman Who Loves Too Much . The preacher that married George and Brandi told me I should probably read the book by Robin Norwood, and I suppose I am that type of woman. Wanting and accepting love from men that emotionally unavailable to me whether it's because he's worried about spaceships coming to save us or just not accessible to me in other ways.

Hmmm... I suppose this is a weakness of mine and everybody hates admitting their weaknesses, but, it's true. It also says in this book that children of alcoholics crave sugar a lot because it's chemical compound resembles that of alcohol. So maybe if I get over this sugar addiction, I can start to lose weight and feel better about myself like society thinks I should.

So... what can I do? (I think I buy too many self-help books). I mean I know I am in search of someone that can give to me what I give to them and by being around Roman, I know there has to be someone out there that can match me but I suppose it will take a while to find him. Plus I don't want to settle down too soon and marry the wrong guy for the wrong reason.

Part of me feels like I don't deserve that love and acceptance because of my disease. Or is it a disease? I suppose it's a disease, I am not as healthy as most women because my brain is fucked up. And most people don't understand that saying of when you have your health, you have everything. But I just need to get over that.

Then I wonder if maybe because I feel like my dad abandoned me that I don't feel like I deserve to be happy or loved. I would like to think I was the one that abandoned him, because we left him, but he rarely was a good father. He demanded more of us because he knew he couldn't give it to us, so we had to provide for ourselves, emotionally, physically and any other way a parent is suppose to give to a child that he couldn't do alone.

After going through this book some, I am kind of glad my dad dumped my mom because I can't even begin to imagine what kind of life I would have had if they had stayed together. Sometimes, I think I would have been one of those obnoxious cunts that drove a BMW by age 16, and maybe, in some other dimension I am but in this reality, I am just me with a dead mother and an asshole for a father.

Well, that just means I have to work harder to give myself the love I deserve and to spend time alone to learn how not to love too much. I like this introspective thinking stuff.

Thursday, March 5, 1998

God damn, this month is already flying by. Spring Break is like, in a week. I don't think I am going to work at all, but just do ceramics. I think I will go spend some time in Danville with my grandparents too. Oh, and horse back riding. Definitely horse back riding. Anne moved her horses to a different place, so...

I'm fucking sore today. All that moving and shit. There are muscles I forgot I had. I will go to ceramics later on, but for now, I think I may just go back to sleep again.

So now that I realize I am addicted to sugar, how do I go about fixing it? I suppose realizing you have an addiction is half the battle, but I am also addicted to the Internet. Well, I suppose it's not so bad to keep the Internet addiction. But the sugar one... I suppose if we can figure out WHY we are overweight then that's like, half the battle. So now I will work on that, getting myself all clear in my head and not worrying about mom, I think I can actually care more about myself, although I am still really scared to be that kind of pretty. Mom was that pretty and look where it got her, 6 kids and cancer.

No, part of it is re-thinking all that shit. She made some poor decisions with her life and that's all there is to it.

So... let's have a lesson on sexual harassment! Shall we??? (Maybe we already have... I don't remember, just humor me)

When I was working in a movie theater, there was this boy named Bobby Wayne that I had gone to elementary and middle school with always wanted to "touch your titties." He was obsessed. When ever I saw him, he just wanted a little feel. So one day... we were alone.

To be alone in a movie theater is a big deal, but I was leaving, signing out to leave and he was coming on. He stood behind me and was like "Just one little feel, please, Cathy." His hand was on my right shoulder and was inching down slowly when I looked over at him, reached around and grabbed his cock and whispered "All right, you first."

His hand stopped. His face went pale. His lips lost that disgusting pig smile and he was so flustered, he didn't know what the fuck to do. Part of me felt bad, because I had assaulted him in a way, and to see that look on someone's face... I will never understand how a rapists can't KNOW, fucking KNOW how he is damaging who he is raping. I don't believe that because of this one little instance.

It just makes me laugh, thinking back on it because he had been so animate about touching my tits for so long and then to turn around and have the same thing done to him damaged his macho male ego. I get a kick out of that story every time I tell it. I think I have told that story before, but since I heard about sexual harassment on the radio, I thought I would remind you. Besides, it's funny... oh... I guess you had to be there.

Later...

So this grief thing runs in cycles. If I don't allow myself to feel the hurt now, it's going to come back and haunt me. Priscilla told me to let it all come out, that it was OK and I just sat and cried and cried, but I should have gone and punched the bag to let some of this rage I feel out. But I didn't. I don't want anyone to see me get that violent.

When Roxell was around, he would punch it and I was like, "That's not how you hit it. This is how you hit it." And I punched it with all my might. I think I scared him, but that's OK.

I sent one of my favorite professors flowers today. She was like "Thanks, you shouldn't have." Why do people say that? I mean, if someone hurts our feelings, do we say, "Oh you shouldn't have done that?" NO! Why the fuck not? I don't understand. There are just so many things I don't understand.

I am reading Motherless Daughters (ambitious to read so many books at once, aren't I?) and there are things I have said to other people in there. I was a young teen when mom was first diagnosed, so many people matured in areas where I wasn't allowed to and I have matured in areas they haven't. It's not fair, but that's life. It's just strange to see where I am not mature, and I think that's OK.

I was wearing pig tails and I went to White Castle yesterday and as I was going through drive through, the woman didn't want to give me my food because for a minute, she thought I was a child driving the car. It made me laugh for a second.

Friday, March 6, 1998

Did you know I went to the Mayo Clinic?

Of coarse you didn't, because it's not something I ever talk about.

When we first found out that I was sick, mom didn't want anybody but the best to do brain surgery (haha). So she sent me to the Mayo clinic. I was 17. I had a boyfriend back home that dumped me because he couldn't deal with it. But I spent a week with my grandparents in Rochester in this little hotel.

I had forgotten my makeup, and was a little clepto back then so when we went to the store that was like Wal-mart, I was elated to find there were no cameras in the ceiling.

The main thing I remember about being there was the wait. It took forever to see a doctor. That's where I learned how to be patient, not just a patient. They were going to perform a Stereotactic biopsy on me, where they cut a part of your skull off and go down into your brain. I wasn't really scared, I was more excited that there was something wrong with me.

Granny and I saw the doctor on a Thursday, I believe, and they wanted to do surgery that next Tuesday, but I went home and we exhausted our search for that perfect neurosurgeon here and mom was just about to have me go back up there. Then, as I was getting ready to go back, mom found him. Dr. Herbert Engelhard, he was so cool. He had worked his way through med school, so he wasn't a typical neurosurgeon. He was kind and did not have a god-like ego, like all the other neurosurgeons I have met before and since. Mom didn't want them to go through my brain, she wanted them to find another way, so he went through my main nasal passages.

The surgery was easy. I remember coming out of ICU and they didn't give me any good drugs. They tried codine, which I had been taking, then demerol, which I had been going to the emergency room every month before that to get a shot so it was ineffective, so they finally gave me percoset and that made me comfortable.

It's the only time in my adult life that I ever saw my parents together that they weren't screaming at one another. Just standing over me looking at the monster I had become (and can you believe it, not one fucking photo! I guess this just wasn't a Kodak moment).

I couldn't sit up for 2 days, so things would settle, but when I sat up the first time, oh my god, talk about pain. I could literally feel everything falling into place up there, because they had taken out the fluid that was holding everything tightly in it's place. It was one of the strangest sensations that I will never forget. I found blood behind my ear when I went home 4 days later which totally freaked me out. And when I looked at my face, I could see where there had been pin marks from where they had to peel my face back.

I remember walking around the hospital, all but doing cartwheels, amazed at how simple the whole ordeal was. When you have brain surgery the recovery time is nothing since it involves no motor skills. There was this guy I walked with that had just had open heart surgery. He showed me his staples.

Dr. Engelhard moved to Chicago to do research, a few months after my surgery because he didn't fit in with the assholes he was working with. He was an admirable guy and the best doctor I have ever had, great bedside manner and everything. He was a family man and that's why he went into research.

God, I'm fucked up. I think this whole thing is hilarious and I am sure some of you are like "OH MY GOD! IF THIS HAD HAPPENED TO ME..." but it didn't. It happened to me and the only thing I worry about every once in a while, is that they might have to do it again, when I am 40.

Saturday, March 7, 1998

So I sent my neurosurgeon an e-mail and he wrote back "It's great to hear from you." So that makes me feel pretty good. I wonder how surprised he was to hear from me.

Anyways, I am feeling especially vulnerable right now. I had this dream I was looking at a bunch of different web-pages at once and it was all about mom.

Priscilla and I went and saw Dark City last night. It was one fucked up movie. Needless to say, I liked it a lot. It was a movie kind of like Lost Highway only not so "real." I'm beginning to wonder what is real and what isn't. Are events that really happen real, or are events that make you feel real? Imagination plays a strong role... but, I don't know. Maybe I am just too grounded in reality to notice the difference, or maybe I am just insane enough now to think it's all the same.

After the movie, Priscilla didn't want to go home so we went to Illusions (which sucked), Outlook Inn (which sucked even harder because it used to be a biker bar and now it's more mainstream), then we ended up at Sparks.

Which was cool. I saw a lot of people I went to high school with, which kind of sucked, but for the most part it was cool.

There is this girl named Lori that I met at school. It was one of the first days I had gone back to school after mom died and we were talking about stuff and family and then Don, my photo professor came by (she was telling me about her family and stuff). And I just told Don all the stupid things Thomas was doing and all the shit going on in my life and when he left she was like, "man, I am sorry."

So she always waits for her sister to come out of a class and I was always waiting for my next class to start at 1 so we would talk during that time one Mondays and Wednesdays. She started dating this guy who I just call Skinner because he's all into psychology and I have no clue who this Skinner guy is and he was all into him. Anyways, they were there last night and Skinner was like "I have the perfect guy for you."

I was like ut-uh. No way.

So he introduced us and we started talking. It's weird how things work out. Priscilla and I were talking about men and what we wanted earlier and it's almost like someone was listening this time. He's a little older, which is fine, how else can I describe him without the stereotype coming into play? He's a tattoo artist, he makes good money so I won't have to support his ass, and he has a Harley. Oh boy I was talking to Keir the other night and I told him how much I would love to be on the back of a bike and here is this guy, this guy and it almost seems too good to be true.

He told me how he would like to take care of me. Show me off. Give me long massages. Just all these wonderful things. He's a good kisser to boot, but that mustache just has to be trimmed as does the beard.

He wanted to take me home last night but I wouldn't let him. It was too much. I had just saw one of the girls I have known since I was fifteen and she gave me this big hug and when I see my acquaintances, I can't help but tell them mom just died. Then she was like "I can't imagine what you are going through. I know when it happens to me I will just totally deny it."

We kept talking and it finally came out "My mom's got it too."

" What kind?"

" Ovarian."

I had kind of been wanting to cry ever since I got to Sparks, but I tried to enjoy myself. "What are you doing for yourself?"

" Well, this is the first time in my life I have every been able to concentrate on me, so `yeah I understand that' I'm not really doing anything."

Oh Dana. "She's been in remission for 2 months now."

" I know you feel for me now, but I feel for you so much more because I know where I am now and where I have been and watching her suffer..."

" She won't let us watch. She doesn't tell us anything (we really don't want to know). You know, I have always been in touch with my own mortality, but your mom... You don't fathom your mom being sick. My mom's been like a rock. I thought she was the rock of the entire world."

Oh that just made my heart ache. It hurts now because I see so much of myself in her. And her mom won't talk to her about things. She doesn't think she is going to die and they caught it early enough so I hope to God, or whatever, that she licks it.

So, that's made me a little sad today already, and it's not even noon. Plus I don't know if I really want to start any kind of relationship right now because every time I feel like I am OK with mom dying... I am standing in quick sand, and at first, I was calm, but now I find myself struggling to get out and I just need to get that calm back so I don't fall into the pit. Fuck it, I deserve to be treated like a princess for once in my life.

Sunday, March 8, 1998

Well, Harley prick didn't call yesterday, so I am just going to blow it off. I really am not ready for any kind of relationship and I need to quit forcing it or fantasizing about it, at least for now. Maybe if I had been a slut and gone home with him, then... then I would feel even more vulnerable then I already do, so no men for me. If I need companionship, then Andy is still around and he knows me so...

I was thinking today, you know the good ol Churchill expression "Nothing to fear but fear itself"? I was thinking about that today and when you think of it, some of the most reprehensible crimes against humanity have been done because of fear.

I read an Anne Morrow Lindbergh quote today I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable. With this quote I have realized that I will never NOT feel vulnerable again as long as I live. That safety net has been stripped and only I can provide one. I thought today, maybe mom was one of the reasons I did such crazy things. I, being 3 of 4, naturally wanted her attention so I went out of my way to gain it. Now, nobody gives a fuck. Well, they give a fuck but they don't support me like mom did.

I have also realized just how frail my grandmother is, which is painful. I almost think she would prefer to whither up and blow away. I understand that it's hard to outlive your child, but she has always been so strong and now...

Peter sent me another quote that said to be beautiful, there must be a sadness to the soul. I felt so guilty for wanting mom to die. I would do just about anything to hear her voice to tell me how she was doing, just as long as she was alive.

But then again, I have so many memories. Rich, colorful memories. I think I am afraid those will be taken away every time I close my eyes. And she is no longer here to validate many of the memories that I can recollect. That's what hurts the most right now, all the shared memories that are no longer shared.

I find myself going to parks a lot lately and I will just walk around and then when I get to the swings, I sit and swing as high as I can, just to have my tummy flip and forget. Mom always told me a story of how when we were kids, Thomas would never go out and swing on his own, he was always too scared. Then I would go out there and start swinging so Thomas had to prove he could do it too. I will never hear this story fall from her lips again, so it is now just a distant memory... only my memory.

Monday, March 9, 1998

I feel so bad today. I didn't study for my test. I haven't gone to work. I need my mommy today because I hung a show yesterday and I am afraid that they will take it down, or find some kind of reason not to have it there.

I was hoping that I wouldn't be affected, but I am desperately affected. I feel like no matter where I go I am standing there naked and raw. It's easier for people to take advantage of me at this moment in time and I hate being so god damn vulnerable. That's about to change.

Or maybe it won't and I will always feel this way to some degree. I never understood what it was like to have a broken heart, so I suppose it's only fitting the first time my heart would break would be the worst.

I sat with Anne in the graveyard yesterday and just talked and talked about everything going on. I told her mom was able to come between us when I moved in with Granny so she was able to make us hate one another. Anne asked me with tears in her aquamarine blue eyes "do you love me?" She really meant it, too. That hurt me all the way down in my toes. Anne has more or less been my baby. I took care of her when we were kids since my father got custody and there wasn't a mother figure there to take care of us. We would talk at night before we went to bed. She used to tell me how beautiful I was and I was too fucked up to tell her she was too, I didn't know she needed to hear that back then. She feels the same way about her memories, that they are not her own, that since no one is there to validate them, they can't be real. She said that was why she was talking to dad again, she wanted validity, but he is an alcoholic so he doesn't remember things the way they really happened, he has these fantasy memories. Mom used to tell me that Anne was living in her own world, that she didn't remember things the way they happened, but it seems to me that Thomas is the one with that problem and Anne and I have many of the same memories.

I hate my mom for doing this to us. Lesli and Anne started to realize she was doing it that first summer I went to Russia and the first day I got home I remember me, going through reverse culture shock, and them coming to my house and telling me all the shit that had gone on. I felt like I was in a David Lynch movie the next couple of days. Going to mom's, everyone so happy to see me then confronting mom about the shit she did to us girls and Thomas saying he was "benevolent." That he did things for "you girls." He has never done shit for me except abuse and beat me. When we were really little, we were best friends. Like 4-6. But after that, we didn't talk to one another.

He's going mad. He can't stand it that I don't trust him any more. He called Anne and told her that I sold her stuff the the Antique Ranch. I suppose Jenny just saying it out loud was enough for him to think it had happened, and he wasn't even close enough to hear her say it! He called Anne last night and told her a bunch of shit like he was putting new locks on the door, and just a bunch of shit. He tried to call me after I learned of this latest development and I said "I want a key to the house" and then he was going to tell me a thing or two and I said "I can't talk to you" and hung up the phone. That made him even more angry. But do I give a flying FUCK? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

He called Anne up and she asked him what he was saying to Dad to make him hate her and he said "Whatever I have to." He is so jealous of everything that he has to be so evil. He can't do things for himself and that makes me despise him. An he's hooked on drugs so you can't believe anything he says. I am going to fuck with him and tell my doctor when I see her this Friday that he is a drug addict and that if she chooses to continue to treat him, she should take this fact into consideration.

I wish I felt like I could totally trust my older sister, but I am still holding her at arms length until all this is over. I do trust her, more then I could ever trust Thomas, but I don't trust her like I do Anne because I was raised with Anne. We have ten years to catch up on and yesterday was the first day I have felt about her like I did when were little girls. Before it all started to get so bad.

Anne made me realize too how much mom hurt her. Anne thinks that mom had Anne to keep him in the marriage. Mom would often tell her and I got the message as well that "I could have had an abortion with you." Mom also blamed Anne for ruining her body. I never realized how much this hurt Anne. I heard her say it and I think around the time I was 17 I told mom she needed to quit saying that. But the damage had already been done. Anne never felt wanted or loved by either of my parents and that's why she reacted the way she did in certain situations.

To be perfectly honest with you, I believe in that good karma/bad karma shit. Mom had two abortions so her two babies had medical problems AND she got Ovarian cancer. Maybe I shouldn't believe this way, and maybe it's not really true, but I believe it with her.

I suppose I am feeling abandoned again, like when we first had to go live with my father. Anne and I were there for each other, and that was so magical in a way, and I felt that yesterday, sitting in the sun in the graveyard.

Tuesday, March 10, 1998

Welcome to Cathy's turbulent roller coaster of emotion, where life is totally fucked up and nothing is real.

I woke up this morning after 4 hours of sleep at the designated time without an alarm clock. I paid some bills (YEA ME!) and went to the post office to send them off. I don't feel like this is really happening to me. I feel disjointed and disfucktional and I don't trust in my own abilities.

I went to ceramics today. I felt just awful. I wanted to talk to someone I care about because she has an eating disorder and I had no idea how out of control it had gotten. So that's worrying me. I have a lot of work to catch up on in ceramics, so that's worrying me. I don't think I can follow through with school, but after today, god dammit...

I don't know why I don't trust myself. I know what memories I possess are mine. All the love and abuse. It's there like a... no good analogy comes to mind at this moment. I can't forget it and maybe I want to forget all the bad and move on with my life. I feel like everyone can read me like a book written on glass. And the only excuse I have for anything is "Hi, my mom just died."

Michelle, I can't remember anything because my mom just died. I know you don't understand this because you mom is still alive and you talk about her. Did you ever notice how many people talk about their moms? On any given day I will be walking by some strangers and hear "My mom blah blah blah" and I want to scream out "LOVE YOUR MOTHER WHILE YOU CAN BECAUSE SHE'S GOING TO DIE!" That means there is no one to love you unconditionally. That means that there is no one there to lend you money when you need it. That means that you can't pick up the phone and say "Hey mom, I feel like shit today and need someone that understands me to tell me it will all be OK."

I have never worked with pure porcelain until today, and the first time, THE VERY FUCKING FIRST TIME I THREW A PITCHER! Do you know, can you fathom what a fucking feat that is? It's like trying to create a solid, 3-dimensional object with cream cheese. But I don't feel it. I need that external validation from someone else that I am great, that I am special, that I am Catherine Elizabeth Clay, and I MEAN SOMETHING, because to be perfectly honest, I don't feel it. I mean I know I am different then other people that surround me, because I don't understand them.

But that's OK, they don't understand me and that's what life is all about.

Wednesday, March 11, 1998

I am feeling paralyzed again. Like there is nothing I can do to end this grief.

I talked with Kristen Welsh last night. I met her in Vermont when I was going to Norwich.She had lost her mom when she was 21, so... She knows how I feel. And then Angie Chandler called me this week out of the blue. I haven't heard from her for almost 2 years. She lost her mom when she was 17, so... there are two women I know that have suffered like I have.

I call them women because I think as long as you are someone's little girl, you can't really be a woman. (Even though I think this... How can I feel about my dad? I haven't talked with him in 7 years, so does that make me his little girl still?) I think when you have this kind of life change, you are a woman because it's the hardest passage to make into being an adult.

My mom never had to go through it, she was always someone's little girl, and she acted accordingly.

Kristen is working on her PhD. in Russian at Yale. I am extremely proud of her. She was lamenting to her boyfriend that she didn't think anybody gave a fuck and here I write to her out of the blue and am like "I need to talk with you..." It's important to get support from other women that have been through similar circumstances.

Angie, on the other hand, is a lost cause. I can't go into how she has fucked her life up, my wrists already hurt from beating the shit out of my punching bag. Let's just say she has a baby, which makes her happy, and that's good, but I don't believe in pro-creating until you know who you are and you can give your kid a stronger identity.

So I am sleepy from getting rid of all that anger. good night.

Thursday, March 12, 1998

I just slept horribly last night. I beat the shit out of my punching bag and my muscles are sore today. I locked myself out of my house trying to take care of the dog (second time I have done this). I had to do a Tarzan move by holding the top part of the carport to try to fit through the storm window into my bedroom. It's was all quite comical, but I was proud of myself for getting back in.

I dreamt that this mural mom painted with her students was painted over at the school for which I had once subbed. That was horrible. I was at a conference for teachers or something (BARF) and we were going through this maze and I then realized it was the same school where mom had done that mural.

I had a crit last night and I have all this footage of stuff mom said and I don't want to edit it down so I think for this photo class I am going to do a little film on the 5 stages of grief. The first one is denial and the last is acceptance and I forgot what goes in between except I do remember anger is in there.

I am not depressed, so much, as I am just overwhelmed with my situation. I didn't take a bath on Tuesday. That was bad. I don't know why, but I decided that as long as I can bathe, everything is OK. It's only when I can't bathe... I think I know part of the reason which was the same reason I didn't go to class today and that is because of people. When you are as raw as I am now, people will say the most benign things to you and just scrape off any scab you just had forming, so I couldn't go to class today plus I was embarrassed because I cried in class last time because I couldn't remember how to make a lip (It didn't help that some cunt told me to take notes). Nobody knows what to say to me so they are treating me like a leper, except for Tanya, Laurel, and Ann. (Ann's mom died from cancer when she was a teen). And Laurel wasn't in class the other day.

Besides, I wasn't all stinky like a boy. I have to go to the neurologist tomorrow and a therapists appointment. I suppose I am not strong enough to make this journey on my own and since I don't believe in footsteps, I will have to walk with someone that can explain it to me, even though I understand, it's still not sinking in.

For now, I am going to go bathe, because I am supposed to meet my grandma at my sister's at 2.

Friday, March 13, 1998

FUCK THE FULL MOON. FUCK HORMONES. FUCK YOU FOR HAVING A MOTHER THAT IS STILL ACCESSIBLE.

It has been one of those days where I didn't get out of bed this morning so I missed my appointment with my neurologist. This is the third time I have missed it. Oh well, fuck it.

I didn't miss my therapist appointment, and he was glad to see me. I suppose I am one of his more dynamic patients and it's always nice to have someone in front of you that is actually willing to bring themselves out of bad situations.

He told me that I can't force this grieving shit, that I should just let it take its coarse and if I feel like shit, let it hurt. But that I should quit trying to make it all logical, because emotions just aren't logical.

It's also OK if I do some irrational things as well. I think I know where I can draw the line on that one.

Plus he told me it was OK if I didn't finish school now, and he's right, although I am sure once I know from Cal Arts, I will work harder to GET THE FUCK OUT OF KENTUCKY.

He said several poignant things. Like anything I try I always succeed so that's one reason why it seems a little frightening to go away. And that it's OK not to want to carry anybody else's emotions about mom. I suppose he didn't really say much of this, I just kind of said it out loud so it didn't hurt so bad.

I went to see Granny at Lesli's and it's the first time she has ever been away from Noah, her 1 year old son. He cried and cried, so I suppose it's only natural for me to want to cry since I was with my mommy for whatever it is my age is today. When I left, all I wanted to do was vomit. I hated the world, I hated you, I hated everything and just wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep... but then I called Jenna.

Jenna dated this freak named Slava that was in my Russian class. She is AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL. I told her I wanted to photograph her and she has been excited ever since. I went to class today and she was talking to me and just being so nice. She is one of the first people that hasn't treated me like a leper when I told her mom died. She was amazed at how mean people could be to me as well. But I told her that people are always mean to the weakest of the bunch, and just because my mom just died, that doesn't put any boundaries around me protecting me.

So... she invited me over to her place for dinner to get properly inebriated, so I am excited. She is the first girl I have met in Kenfuckme that is as raunchy about sex as I am. Most girls, when I get graphic, cringe, but Jenna made me smile today on more then one occasion talking about sex.

Besides being aware of your own mortality, is there really anything on the planet that is more important?

Saturday, March 14, 1998

Jenna is the bomb.

Alyson is the bomb. I finally got to talk to her today because she stopped by. (we met at Brandi's wedding and at first, we weren't crazy about each other and now, I feel so close to her.) He brother died in an accident this past summer so we have bonded over that. We can sit and listen to each other tell stories about the people we love and not have to worry about the other one to shut up because it's too sad.

Actually, I have discovered the more I am able to talk about it and find people willing to listen and still love me, then it's easier the rest of the day. The people that will listen to you grieve, they are easier to form strong bonds with because they recognize that you are still under there, under all that hurt and you peep up for a second or two to say "Yeah, I really miss fucking" or something along that line. So I find myself starting to feel better, plus I am going back to being a smartass cunt so that makes me feel better.

I know I am under here still. Alyson also told me that I will grieve for the rest of my life, so that kind of allows me to accept that she's gone a little easier.

So... I was thinking, Madonna's voice is so flat, for her to be creating such new strong songs and then to have them still sound flat, it makes me a little sad. But there is a spark in certain peoples work, a little bit of pain or emotion, so when you watch it or listen, that resonates in you soul. That's why I can hear Billie Holiday again and again, because her voice sounds like butter.

But Billie had no confidence and Madonna does... so is Madonna an icon because she has enough self confidence that she thinks she is good, makes other people believe she is good, therefore she succeeds? Or because Billie Holiday had no self confidence, does her work make her more endearing because you can listen to her over and over and feel what she is saying?

(I'm still in here)

Jenna is a photo slut. I am happy because she can model for me and I can get more out of her then just a smile. To capture for a fleeting moment someone's essence on film, that is what I strive for. A precious moment in time that can only be caught once... And only with special people. Jenna says it's because she is true to herself and maybe that's what it is, but there are so few people like that. Tanya is like. She has this air about her that just demands attention.

I seek this out in other people because then we can feed off each other's energy. There aren't that many people that have it either. I suppose it's that deep part of us that we let show through to other people that can see.

I am starting to feel that energy come back to me. I feel myself exuding it, and I suppose it is my sexuality. But since I incorporate that into who I am... it takes a certain person. Priscilla, Tanya, Jenna, Melissa and Alyson all have this quality about them, and I admire it in them because I admire it in myself.

It's a good thing I'm an artist or it would consume me otherwise.

I'm going to Lexington and Danville for a few days for a different form of escapism.

Sunday, March 15, 1998

I am just exhausted. I just now got the horse stink off. I sat around here at my grandparents talking about life and momma. It's comforting in a sense.

I didn't ride as hard as I wanted to. I was just kind of moping, sitting on top of the horse (but now me bum is sore, Keir). I rode Bo, Anne's thoroughbred. I have never been that high off the ground, so I was frightened. Plus thoroughbred aren't known to be the safest of horses. I wasn't comfortable. Plus if I am going to be riding him again, I wanted to gain his trust. When I rode Honey, I rode her hard and Anne said today that I am not a cowgirl, so it's not necessary for me to do that. She was cleaning stalls so I was by myself, and it's just not as much fun doing it alone.

I thought about how Roman was here last time I went riding. He would have been jealous because I rode Bo. He rode a half blind horse when he was here and I rode an old one, so I knew what I could get away with. This time was different. I thought about a lot of things and once, when he started to take off, I got scared and I hate feeling this way. I have never been scared before. Maybe I will be more womanly or soft now that I have had that edge of suppressible grief removed from my soul.

From your mouth by God Lives Underwater is one of the coolest videos I have seen. It shows a guy eating all this food backwards. It cracks me up.

It was weird to remember that Caesar died so many years ago today.

Duncan is a pretty good traveler. I am rather proud of him, although I do wish I had more room to let him stretch out in my car.

Last night, on my way to Lexington, I saw a dead deer that was rather fresh road kill, a cop pulled someone over, the moon had a touch of blood to it's color, and a shooting star. Although it's not the first time I have seen one, it is worth noting all of these events. I hope it brings me good luck.

Monday, March 16, 1998

Today has been the laziest day I have had in a while. I am at Granny and Pops and I have done nothing but be babied. Granny not only fixed me breakfast, lunch and dinner, but she also is working on a jacket so I can wear it and a little black dress that one of her customers gave back to her to give to me.

Pop just gave Duncan a tootsie roll. If Granny knew, she would freak. I think I am going to give Duncan to Pop. He's feeling pretty lost and I think if he has something to take care of that mom loved, then he will feel good. Plus, he likes showing Duncan off. He took him where he used to work to show the fellas. His neck is 28 or 30 inches. He's a big fucking dog.

He can't stand it. He loved my mom so much. If my dad cared about me like pop cared for mom, I would feel like I could do anything in the world. The one fight where mom totally pissed me off was when we were driving home from Danville and she started bad mouthing pop and I yelled "DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR FATHER LIKE THAT, AT LEAST HE LOVES YOU AND HAS BEEN THERE FOR YOU YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!" I hadn't yelled at her like that since I was a teen, and that has been at least 2 years ago. She was mad because Pop "didn't love Thomas." There is so much bullshit that I look back upon and I think, "what the hell were you thinking mom?"

I brought a good chunk of laundry to do, but not all of it. Amazing how it starts to pile up after a while.

My muscles are still sore from yesterday. I slept most of the day. I feel like this is home. Poppa has given me amazingly little shit over breaking up with Andy this time. I feel like now I can come back here and be comforted like when I lived here when I was 14. We are watching Monday Night Nitro and Pop is giving me a lecture on race car driving, and how much all the Andrettis are making.

I took a long, lazy bath, with bubbles and scrub. I exfoliated, shaved, and washed behind my ears and cleaned out my belly button really good, and put lotion on so now I am clean and smelling good. Granny taught me some of what it means to be a woman. When we were little girls and staying here with Granny and Pop, Granny would bathe us and then powder our butts when we were done. It was such a delight and thinking back gives me warm fuzzies because we knew it was a special event.

I suppose if we could all feel so special every once in a while, then the world would be a better place or something equally as hokey. All I know is that I feel loved today, very much so. So I need to remember this day so when I am gone, I can recall this feeling.

Tuesday, March 17, 1998

It's starting to happen again. I am beginning to overwhelm myself with my personality and I take that as a sign of acceptance. Life is what you make of it and I am getting the fuck out of Ky this year, GOD DAMMIT.

I am not miserably sad like I have been, I suppose it may be because it's been one of those red-letter days, whatever that means.

I drove in from Danville, just loving all the babying I got. I stopped off at a rest stop and I swear my dog has shit for brains because he peed on my fucking shoe... and I was wearing it at the time, so you can just imagine my delight.

I think that I rule my life, I don't let it rule me and that's one of the reasons I am different from other people. There are certain situations that are beyond my control, but what ever it is, I try my damnedest to rule my life and make opportunities happen for me. Anyone can do it, if you knock loud enough or push long enough.

I figure I got my wake up call early, with mom being sick and me having brain surgery. I watched her just sit and watch TV and allow her life to be whittled down to nothing. She didn't see it that way, she always thought she was in control, but man was she wrong. Thomas got her to hate one of us at different points in her life so he could have more stuff. Let him fucking have it, loser.

I decided that when I was old enough to drive, that I wouldn't ever let anything keep me from trying different things and I have tried a various number of things.

I think Anne wants to go to Europe with me this summer. I don't know how well she will travel, but I am packing light. A few changes of jeans, a few t-shirts, of coarse my computer and cameras, and what ever else I feel I need. I hope to make it to at least 5 new countries. That's a little ambitious though. I like to spend time where ever I go like a native, not a tourist, but I suppose this time I will do stupid touristy things.

I want to go back to Russia, make it to Kiev, maybe take the trans Siberian railroad around a little through China, and maybe Italy, Spain, Greece and perhaps Turkey. I don't know, we will see.

I think next year I am going to go to South America. Or maybe this year, depending on if I get into Cal Arts.

I need to start focusing on school again. I feel the momentum building back up but I hope that I don't get grappled by this grief thing again so soon.

We will see. Happy St. P's day. Try to keep the dogs from pissing on your shoes.

Wednesday, March 18, 1998

Everybody is out fucking in the sun and I am stuck here. Oh well. I suppose if I could have controlled that then I would have, but I need to get some of this work done for my classes.

I'm listening to Nine Inch Nails. Trent makes me hard. When they came to Louisville oh so many years ago, I got close enough for his sweat to drip on me, and while that may sound gross to you, I was in heaven. I was sad to discover that some people were allowed to take their cameras in. So we went home and moped. Skip, Andy and me. That's a happy Andy moment. He was standing behind me and we were pushing ourselves up to the front and he was like a wall. I love Andy's shoulders, he is as broad as a barn.

So after the concert, instead of going to Sparks like we had planned, we went to Steak and Shake and moped. Where did Trent Reznor go? He went to Sparks. I just wanted to slit my wrists the next day.

Ahhh... enough reminiscing. I dropped Anne off at that Airport. She is in Tampa by now. She left her medicine here and I had to come back for it. I got mom's skin and she got dad's and I used some of hers the other day to nuke my face clear and I couldn't leave it on all night. She made the comment "I guess my face is like leather, because it doesn't even effect me." I wanted to just die. My skin is so sensitive. It's still peeling but at least it's clear!

She has great eyebrows. I am so jealous. I slept so good with her next to me. We chatted some like when we were little girls again. It felt so nice. I like having a sister. So I lost my mom, but now I have my sister back, and that's a good trade. I was raised by my dad until I was almost 16, so I had just been close to my mom for the past couple of years.

I am feeling human more and more and am desperately hoping that I don't fall back into grieving so hard again, but I think that is inevitable. For now, I feel good. I'm happy. I got tapes from Haddy, she makes me feel so special. I am going to go clean.

Friday, March 20, 1998

Well, here it is Friday and I haven't accomplished a lot of anything, which I suppose isn't a bad thing.

I had this weird dream last night where I was riding down the coast with an artificial family that was meant to be mine. It was really bizarre and strange some of the feelings that went with it because half way through, they realized they were made up and then they tried to become real, but it was too late.

Then we were being chased by something and that's why we were on the coast. Strange dream.

It's all rainy and yucky outside. I woke up thinking, today would be a good day to be rejected from Cal Arts. And I was.

Saturday, March 21, 1998

So I was invited to this party at sparks, they sent out the invitations as pictured below, so if you are in Louisville, come up and say hi to me tonight at Sparks unless you are a bigger freak then me.

It's even got corn in that little package! YUMMY!

That is probably the only decent photo I will ever have of Duncan, big dummy. I took him to the vet today and told him he had been neglected, and I suppose that is a good thing because he wasn't well fed so now he's not overweight. The vet said he looked really good for being 10.

Took Shittar to the vet first. Seems he has been trying to hack up fur balls and the vet said he had some places he could feel in his tummy where the fur just sits there. Yuck. He was starting to worry me because he would be next to me in my bed and he'd start wheezing and it sounded like the way mom was breathing right before she died, so I freaked out. Anyway...

So fuck Cal Arts. I feel like calling the woman up that said "You are already in, just get your stuff together and send it" and telling her, "Thank you for decimating what little faith I had in hope."

I know there is a reason for everything... This just goes to show you that you can't get your hopes up. I am sure if I applied to Law School, then I would have gotten in and then I would be headed towards a path of misery and pain. Sigh. I can still work on that (gag, vomit, hack).

You know, just once, if life goes my way... If I could have things work for me instead of against me... I wonder just what kind of person I would be. This one guy was like "Why not just take the path of least resistance?" And I wonder to myself... Why don't I? And then I remember how SAFE AND BORING THAT IS. If you aren't constantly challenging yourself, then what kind of person are you going to become? Cattle just like the rest of 'em.

Well, I suppose I can also take comfort in knowing that my life couldn't be any worse then it is at this... wait a second. That's not true. It can always get worse, so I won't tempt the gods into thinking that one right now.

So today's topic is love. I have been giving this a lot of thought and... I think being in love with someone is like handing the other person a dagger and saying "Cut my heart into pieces but just enough for me to go on so I can keep loving you."

Tanya has been the one to cause this thought. She is so sad now, so sad because she opened herself up to love and now that things aren't going her way, she doesn't know how to... feel? No, she knows how to feel, she just doesn't know how not to be so open and vulnerable. It's as if you allow yourself to attach certain feelings to another person (that you really hold for yourself) and hope they won't hurt you like that last one, which sucks because you generally get hurt every time. But it's all worth it in the long run because the pleasure outweighs the suffering. I mean we all suffer, because we are human, just some of us less then others.

I am beginning to learn that you can't control your feelings. That's all there is to it. You can trick them every once in a while into submission, but when you have a tragedy befall you, then all the emotions you have been suppressing for so long well up and over and you can't plug them up at all. I have such strong emotions now, and I never know how I am going to act. I hate crying in public, but I can't stop myself from doing it.

Andy came by today and said, "Oh, those (loony tunes disks) are cute, when did you get them?"

And I looked down and there they were without warning "Mom got them for me." I was watching the video tape of Christmas and she was so excited for me to have them. She kept saying "Cathy, have you checked your stocking?" over and over. And when I did, you could see the pleasure expressed in her face from my excitement.

I really needed my mommy yesterday, to comfort me and tell me that the people at Cat Arts are fuckers (in those exact words), but I have to be content with first telling myself that now. It's not as comforting when other people say it because they aren't my mom. I am learning I have to make those decisions on my own and say these things to myself and believe them, and that's really hard for me to do.

I am also starting to lose weight. It's not deliberate either. My stomach is all in knots and food is just disgusting to me now. Boy, my key to being thin was for me to simply lose my mom. Grief is the worst emotion.

Now part of me is like, "Fuck getting a BFA and settle for the BA." I mean, why do I need it, so I can have pretty ceramic things in my residence? Well, I am becoming less and less attached to that shit, so why should I even bother? I think I could only really pass one class this term with a decent grade anyway. Unless I decided to work EXTRA hard, and I just can't put in the effort at this point in my life. How necessary is a BFA? I thought it would be cool to say "I have a BA in Russian, with a minor in Russian studies and a BFA in Photography with a minor in Art History." That sounds so cool. But who really gives a fuck? Do I give a fuck? "I have a BA in Russian and Photography and a minor in Russian Studies." Hmm... well, a lot of people don't even know what a BFA is.

My friend Bil Brown calls it a "Big Fucking Attitude."

I know if I decide to try to get my MFA in anything, then it's probably a wise decision to go on and get my BFA. Mom didn't really want me to get it but I don't know if she was jealous or what. 21 hours away...

Well, I don't really have to make that decision now. I think the sooner I get my money and leave, the better off I will be and that will be at least another month or so. 6 weeks left of school. If it were any other time, I would have no doubt in my ability to work my ass off and finish, but now, I am overwhelmed with other things and it just doesn't seem to be so important.

THIS IS WHY I LOVE ZACK:

cathy,

so sorry to hear about cal arts, but you shouldn't feel bad. it did suck for that woman to tell you that you were a shoe-in, but you know just as well as anyone that not getting in is not a reflection on you. i have learned that grad schools customize their classes so that they have a wide variety of styles - i think that they want the students to fight. you just didn't fit what they were looking for this year.

but you know, i think it is a blessing that you didn't get in. i would never recommend to anyone grad school immediately after undergrad. a lot of it for me is that i never got as chance to figure out what art meant to me. i liked it, but i didn't know what i wanted from it. a few years distance is the only thing that can clarify that. i wish i had waited.

i have been so busy lately. my thesis show opens in three weeks and i'm terribly behind schedule. i spent 8 hours printing yesterday and am heading out in a minute to school. i got three of six prints done. if i finish today, i'll have one piece completed. two more to go. i'm reaching my stressful, near a nervous breakdown stage. it's not fun.

i have to go. keep you head up. you are a wonderful artist and you know that. oh, i should have the invitations for my show soon. it goes from april 13-17 and the opening is in april 15 from 4 to 7.

zack

Even though he doesn't really know it, he always says the right thing. He has never said anything to hurt me in the slightest sense and has always supported me in whatever it is I try to do, and you know, that's amazing for a person to accomplish that without really trying.

I wish I could make him feel how much he pumps me up and fills in gaps that I can't fill on my own. That's probably the main reason I wanted to stay with him after mom died, because he respects me and I think honestly loves me for who I am and that's really hard to do because I am such a freak.

I think I am going to go cry now because he made me feel so much better about myself and this whole situation. I will go to his opening, because that always means a lot. I wish there was something I could do for him, to make him feel how special he is to me, but this is going to require a lot of thought because I want it to mean that much more.

Sunday, March 22, 1998

Today was just one of those days. I needed to pick Anne up at the airport and it was such a beautiful day. She came out and Randy had come to pick her up. He couldn't be considerate and call me, he just showed up like I did.

We were supposed to go to Lesli's and he wanted to take her to lunch since he hadn't seen her for a while. So we went and we got into an argument about her taking me to Lesli's. Granny and Pop drove up from Danville and were kind of excited about seeing us so they were a little upset hen we didn't show.

I had her car over the time she was gone so I drove out to The Macaroni Grill to eat lunch with them. I knew I shouldn't have gone because he had that look in his eye and they kept talking to each other in hushed tones.(He took her in his car as I drove hers.) repeating myself...

Fuck this, I did something to my pinkie and it hurts to much to type since I can no longer hunt and peck.

Monday, March 23, 1998

So yesterday sucked. My pinkie feels a little bit better but I am not going to try to strain it. I went back to work and they actually have something for me to do, so I am happy.

I should have known yesterday was going to suck because I didn't receive one letter all day and usually someone e-mails me. So naturally today I got a lot of mail.

So Anne and I were at the restaurant arguing over her taking me to Lesli's. She didn't want to go so she wanted to just take me home. I didn't want to go home, and Lesli's house was closer to where we were. I finally understand what it means to be self-centered and am happy to report that I am not. I try to be considerate of other people's time and take in their effort, etc. into consideration.

So I think that Anne's boyfriend is an ass for a) not calling to tell me he was picking her up (see above for consideration) b) asking me to lunch when they totally ignored me and wanted t be with each other and c) I can't think of a good c. It was nice of him to buy me lunch, but I ended up puking it all up anyway because I was so upset. So, it really wasn't worth it. I felt like I did when I was a kid, and that I was under the wrath of dad, and as an adult, I don't have to put up with Anne's temper tantrums anymore. Plus Randy had that air of authority where he acted like he knew better then me, and you know how much revere I hold for figures of authority.

Anne and I fought and fought and fought and he wanted us to stop, and I could see why. She sets these situations up so that she looks like the victim, and I despise this kind of attitude. When Lesli called her, she told her I was mean to her. That's why I was the one that ended up walking away, without a car, without anything 30 minutes from my house. There is no way to regain that trust and love I once held for her, so I'm putting her at arms length again.

The sentence that did it for me was "Well, it's MY car." Fine, fuck you. I am not the one that asked you to pick me up at the airport and drive YOUR car close to Lesli's and then instead, plan on taking you back home so YOU could drive all the way back out to where Lesli lives and drop off paperwork that YOU didn't want to sign so we can get some of this mess settled. FUCK YOU. " It's MY CAR!" Fine, dad, then fucking grow old acting like a god damn baby.

I talked to my professor today and I don't have to do an oral report. My tummy was flipping at having that much attention focused on me so I am relieved. I think I will do a little write up even though he said I didn't have to.

I think I will do well in my computer art class so that leaves ceramics, 3 art histories, and photography. I'm going to give it a whirl, I didn't come this far just to have it all stripped in one semester. Besides, other people seem to have more faith then I do in myself. So this means I will be spending less time on the computer and trying to focus long enough so I can accomplish this goal I set over 3 years ago. If at first you don't succeed, blow the fuckers up and try some other way.

There's a field trip to the Getty Museum in June. It's from June 10-13. Mom's birthday was the eleventh of June and Granny's is the fourteenth. It's only $299 on a first come, first serve type of basis. I suppose the question is, do I really want to spend that little amount of time in LA just to get away from Mom's birthday. Plus, if I wanted to be in LA, why don't I just go and stay with Jenn. I think it's a waste, although... It sounds kind of nice. I don't know, anymore about anything. I'm lost and I suppose the only way I won't feel so lost is by just allowing time to pass.

So traveling with Anne is out of the question. If she was this bitchy from a little trip to Tampa, there is no way I am going to listen to that shit this summer. NO FUCKING WAY. I prefer traveling alone anyway.

Tuesday, March 24, 1998

I am tragic. I didn't do a damn thing today. I gave the dog a bath. I loved on my cats. I took a shower. I just kind of enjoyed my company.

Yesterday was a busy day. I went to work and actually had stuff to do. I went to dinner with one of my favorite professors. She makes me feel so good. I admire her so much because she has had such a diverse life and has settled into being a professor. I hold her responsible for filling my mind with wonderful literature and ideas. She challenged me, yeah.

Then I went out to a girl's house, Rachel, with Jenna. We just sat around and babbled. I thought at first we wouldn't get along, but she was really cool. Then I came home and talked on the phone for three hours.

I was all prepared to go to school today, but for some reason, I just didn't. I think I am afraid to go to ceramics since I cried last time I was there. Plus I don't need other people's shit right now.

Wednesday, March 25, 1998

They actually have me working now, so I am not going to have much time to e-mail or work on my site... sigh.

I guess that means when I write, I will have to be more concise and to the point. I am able to focus now, and that is a god send. I feel the intensity coming back too, although it leaves me exhausted after thinking so hard for longer then a minute.

Had lunch with Jenna and Rachel. It was a nice time. I feel so connected to Rachel and it scares me. Oh well. It's as though we know how to take each other to the same level and we know how to bring it around a circle to make it mean more. It's kind of nice for a change to be around someone that can be as deep as me, and a fuck off at the same time.

Gotta work...

Thursday, March 26, 1998

So I went over to Rachel's last night with Jenna. I had some bean soup she had made and it was mmm mmm good. I enjoy my time there. I didn't even know the Oscars were this past Monday until yesterday.

I came home, laid down and watched the English Patient. It was OK. I love how a man can be obsessive with a woman and it's called romance. It's like "here girls, this is what passion is all about." Eh... WRONG ANSWER.

So this guy I was talking on the phone with, he's a little bit older and wiser, and at least as smart as me, which is nice because that means if things work out, maybe I can develop my mind a little bit further.

He's not into playing mind games, and who really gives a fuck about that bullshit. I mean a man is a man and women are genetically superior so all the rest is incidental. That's just the way mother nature made us so we should move on.

Now the mind part is what intrigues me. The only time I ever felt like I was really in a relationship was a year ago and he wasn't anywhere around me. It's much nicer if I can be with someone that lets me exercise my imagination.

So if traditional mind games are out of the question, now what? I have been thinking of little things I could do when we are together, like leaving little clues in his car for him to meet me in a specific restaurant, without actually telling him where to go. He's have to really think hard before he got it right. I'd start off easy, like leaving some stupid origami creature on his dash board or something equally as inane and as he started to figure out where I was (how I thought), I would start making it harder and harder to find me.

That's a real mind fuck. The ones that you enjoy together, the ones that make you focus and think. I believe we are a lazy culture and we have allowed our lives to be over run with other people's imaginations and most people sit on their asses, eating it all up, not trying to make life just a little bit better for themselves because they don't trust themselves.

Oh well... so now I can start to develop the rules to this game more. Adventure, romance, and mystery. If I can do this to him and get him all excited, then I just can't imagine what he could come up with. It's all really quite exciting just thinking about it all.

I figured out why I didn't like Randy's attitude the other day just now. He talks about taking Anne to Toronto and other places in the states and wants to take her to all these places to eat. How boring. If all my lover could think of was to take me to exciting places to eat I would be so totally bored. Experiences are what matters and while eating is an experience and usually always special, it can possibly replace say... skinny dipping in the Gulf of Mexico?

Money is nice to have as well, and this guy isn't broke, so it's like "show some creativity." You don't always have to have money to have fun, either. I live in poverty and I have had nice times just dancing in my car on the expressway. Money makes it easier on some levels and more difficult on others.

I have to go to school soon. I woke up extra early so I could go in and work by myself. Ceramics. I finally decided that I am not going to kill myself trying to make it all work. I am just going to work on what I can and hope that I get Cs and Ds so I can pass and move on to the next phase of my life.

Friday, March 27, 1998

I read over my Keirsey temperament test again. I love what it says about my personality .

ENFP

The Motivator Idealists are abstract in thought and speech, cooperative in accomplishing their aims, and informative and extroverted when relating with others. For Motivators, nothing occurs which does not have some deep ethical significance, and this, coupled with their uncanny sense of the motivations of others, gives them a talent for seeing life as an exciting drama, pregnant with possibilities for both good and evil. This type is found in only about 3 percent of the general population, but they have great influence because of their extraordinary impact on others.

Motivators are inclined to go everywhere and look into everything that has to do with the advance of good and the retreat of evil in the world. They can't bear to miss out on what is going on around them; they must experience, first hand, all the significant social events that affect our lives. And then they are eager to relate the stories they've uncovered, hoping to disclose the "truth" of people and issues, and to advocate causes. This strong drive to unveil current events can make them tireless in conversing with others, like fountains that bubble and splash, spilling over their own words to get it all out.

Motivators consider intense emotional experiences as being vital to a full life, although they can never quite shake the feeling that a part of themselves is split off, uninvolved in the experience. Thus, while they strive for emotional congruency, they often see themselves in some danger of losing touch with their real feelings, which eNFps possess in a wide range and variety. In the same vein, eNFps strive toward a kind of spontaneous personal authenticity, and this intention always to "be themselves" is usually communicated nonverbally to others, who find it quite attractive. All too often, however, eNFps fall short in their efforts to be authentic, and they tend to heap coals of fire on themselves, berating themselves for the slightest self-conscious role-playing.

So, I think that sounds like me. I haven't met many other ENFPs. Roman was an ENTP, and depending on my mood, I can be that too when I try to ignore my feelings, but I don't think I will go back to suppressing them again, they eat me up inside.

When I meet someone else that is like this, sparks fly and we can either get along wonderfully or just totally hate one another. I admit, sometimes I can be a flake, and part of that is because I am a Gemini as well. I think people disregard some "traditions" too easy, astrology being one of them. I like to read my horrorscope and see how close it comes to being right.

So last night Pris, Jeff, and me all went to Cahoots, and it sucked, then we went to the Mag bar, and I saw so many people I know. There were several good looking men, but for some reason, I just don't care to hit on them or something.

Jeff told me to walk up to them and say "I swallow" and that would bring 'em on in. I laughed and was like, "you really think so?" I guess I talk way too much about sex in front of people and it's rather disturbing to some, well, disturbing to Jeff. I like to sit and make people think of stuff they don't usually consider and I like that about me (since there are only 3% of my personality type in the general population).

Besides, I'm fun at parties because you never know what's going to come out of my mouth... hahahahaha

This week has been a good week. I haven't been moping too much over mom and I actually feel like it is time to move on. I miss her, but it's not like a gaping wound any longer. I thought I was here when I started, but I wasn't, and I know as time passes, it will get easier.

I can't give enough allocates to good therapy. I love my therapist, Dr. Bergandi. We have a great connection and it's so easy and wonderful to talk to him. I feel like I could sit down and have dinner and talk about other things.

That's one thing I disagree with my personality assessment, I listen to other people, I do. I can tell you stupid little details about conversations I had years ago that the other person has long forgotten. Maybe I am really introverted and I try to be extroverted. Or maybe I am a freak, no, I am a freak, there is no maybe to it.

Later...

Oh... I am so happy today. I don't know what's come over me, but I feel such a sense of calm. I walked to school today, the weather is so nice. I am wearing the Doc Martians that I bought in San Francisco with Tanya. I am thinking about traveling this summer and I start to get so excited. I think I am going to New York to spend some time with one of my mom's friends because I am bad at e-mailing her because there is so much emotion that I can put into words.

I think I may go back to San Francisco as well to see Tanya and just be with her. It would be different this time because I am not so exhausted from grief anymore.

I try to think of the things that bring me great pleasure at this moment in time and I have narrowed it down to a few wonderful things. One, is great e-mail, my friends, my docs, my leather-tabbed Levi's, working in porcelain is up there... I'm so lucky that I have other outlets to express myself because if I had to depend on writing alone, I would be hurting.

Sigh... I have to go to class and be out in the sun for a while. I'm thinking of you, Sam, and hoping you are ok. It's been a year now.

Well, I hope you are enjoying your day today and I send some of my love to you, who ever you are.

Saturday, March 28, 1998

I am in a frightfully yummy mood. Last night was just a great fucking night. I walked home from work and tried to call Rachel, but she was outside. So I called Liss, told her I was on my way out. Rested for a while. Talked to Jenn. Called the woman I sat next to on the plane out to LA and caught up with her.

Went to Melissa's house around 7:00 and just sat there and talked and talked about life. I realize why she is my best friend. She listens to whatever I say and is never berating. Well, sometimes she gives me shit when I need it, but that's what friends are for.

We haven't had one of those deep conversations in a long time, it reminded me of when we would sit in mom's pool after work, drinking beer or wine coolers talking about what it meant to be a woman (I didn't have a good mentor since she was sick and Melissa has taught me so much about life). I still can't believe she has Colin because I remember these kinds of talk when we first started to get to know one another. He is just a perfect baby. She had a stressful pregnancy because she lost her job and the sperm donor was a fucker. I called her from Russia because I could feel something was going on with her and I was right.

I remember sitting on the edge of Dick's bed telling her Colin would be a great baby because she was under so much stress. That's what happened to my mom. She was so stressed with me, because my dad was in Korea, she had 2 other kids to care for and she was trying to afford an apartment on her own. She often told me that when she was pregnant with me, it was the most difficult one so I think that children that feel their mother stressed tend to be less fussy. Colin is perfect. I swear to god, I just don't know how he is and I can't describe it but he rarely cries and he's always happy. He's a joy to be around, but he was zonked for most of the time I was there and that's how Melissa and I were able to bond further.

So, after I was done there, I went to see Jenn and we sat around and talked and ended up going to see The Big Lebowski. I love the Cohen brothers. I asked her what I should do with my life now and she was like, "Move out to L.A." She hates being here so much, and I can't say that I don't blame her, but I now I feel like I have a set of wings and the door is open to me to do whatever I please.

When I think of going to Europe this summer, I get excited to think about sharing what I am going to do and all the things I see here.

I got a letter from Roman. I hadn't heard from him in a while and I was worried about him some, and thought he forgot about me, or was really busy. So he wrote to me and told me how he had been sick and how his computer died, the replacement computer didn't work, just problems that if he were over here could have been easily remedied, but since he's in Russia, everything takes forever to get done. So... I was happy to hear from him.

I went to Wal Mart after the movie so I could buy some tubs and start packing my things so I can move. I have to be gone by my birth day and since I have a lot of shit, it's wise to start now. I'm going to take Duncan for a walk, it's such a gorgeous day!

Sunday, March 29, 1998

I thought I would be horribly depressed today because it's the first 29th since mom died (last month was February). But then again, I just woke up. It's such a yummy day. I think I may go out side and sit in the sun naked for a little while. And study for my test.

My pussycat is sitting here wanting attention. So I am trying to sit here and pet him and write at the same time. I think of all pets, cats are the most sensuous. I was trying to go back to sleep and kitty laid down next to me and stretched out his paw and dug it into my skin because he wanted love. How can you ignore that?

I think I am going to go to the Getty Museum. I told Eric to sign up as well, and I would pay for half of his ticket because I a) can't stand the thought of being with a bunch of Louisvillians on a trip and b) he's so much fun to be around. I wish we could have the level of friendship we once did, but... we both know that can never be, so we will do it this way. So I will not be here during mom's birthday, when everybody else is sad.

I went and saw Titanic with Melissa and Colin last night. I told Pris I was going to do it and she was like "Does she know you have already seen it?"

I told her "I assume she does (she didn't)."

" I wouldn't go see it again." BULLSHIT

It turned out better that I had seen it. It was Colin's first movie. The part that was bad was when the sound was too loud and it hurt his ears. That's the only real time he cried. He watched the movie and kept touching my drink in the drink holder. It was so strange to see this 6 month old baby just watching and playing. He only got fussy when he was sleepy so I took him and walked with him so Melissa could watch the movie. It was hot in there and it was terribly crowded. He fell asleep on me and pretty much stayed asleep through the water rushing scenes, which amazed me because it was so loud. Then he woke back up and watched the end.

Melissa cried. I was so surprised, but then she says since she has had Colin, she cries at commercials.

I had a dream I was in a house and there was lawn furniture inside. It was very open and airy and there were books everywhere. There was a loft and the bed was... there but I don't remember what it was like. (Jenn's boyfriend has this Opium bed I would kill for.) But I just remember looking at the books, a bunch of Barnes and Nobles books that were on one of the shelves (there were about 10 bookshelves) and over on the other side, a lot of the books were laying sideways, as if they hadn't had time to arrange them.

When I got home last night, I thought about how Lesli wanted to sell the car mom gave me, and I got upset all over again and my tummy was in knots. I took half a zanex and a nice, hot bath, listened to music and just relaxed. Shaved the parts that needed to be shaved and washed my hair. I was going to try to read a book, but I was just feeling so good. So I dozed off and had this dream.

I discovered a new remedy today in case you were wondering how to bleach out the zits that you pick on that leave marks. Since the Nair fiasco, I decided to go back to bleaching my mustache (Noticeable only to me, mind you) and I noticed that it started fading the marks I left from picking on myself. So I was reading in Cosmo how women will go and have a doctor mix up this kind of stuff when all you have to do is go to the drug store and buy some Nudit.

I was talking with Melissa about my friends and she noted how so many of them are ditzy. Then she was like "You can be ditzy too." SO I am wondering, why do I act like that? Too many years being a bottle blond? Even though I was born blond and grew out of it, does it still linger? Is it a way of protecting myself. No, I think she was right in saying that it's easier to act like a ditz because people except less of you, and seeing as how people (that I actually deal with) already are not compassionate towards me because I am strong, I would hate to see how they would react to me if I wasn't a ditz. Hmmm... is this something I need to work on, or is this something I kind of enjoy?

Monday, March 30, 1998

Today's rant is brought to you by a sexist Russian fucker. Now I know that in the past, men have had it all, they have gotten to run all over women to get whatever the fuck they want out of life. Well, as we all know, that has changed. Women are doing it for themselves and telling men to FUCK OFF. If you are going to have anything to do with a woman like me, that is bright, educated, and not so bad looking, then you are going to have to learn how to act. That generally means accepting the fact that women are better then men.

It's true. We are all animals first and then the sex is defined. Women have two x chromosomes so that means if we are deficient in one area, we have another chromosomes to fall back on. Men don't. Men carry the junk genes around and spread them wherever they can stick their dick.

I am glad that the constitution starts off by saying "all men are created equal" and women aren't included in that doctorate because WE ARE NOT ALL EQUAL. Sure, as my grandmother says "you shit stinks just as bad as mine" but in some ways, I still know I am better then most people. This is something that I don't admit freely... I AM AN ELITIST (that can't fucking spell)!

This attitude also comes out when I am under a lot of stress and REALLY FUCKING PISSED. I am trying to learn to temper this part of my personality and it FUCKING BLOWS. I can get angry and pissed and if you don't like it, leave me the fuck alone. I don't refer to myself as "One Opinionated Bitch" for no fucking reason. I guess it just takes a whole fucking lot to make me this angry and I am so mad I can't even concentrate to study for my test further.

Now don't get me wrong, I like fucking just as much as the next person, probably a little bit more. But there is no fucking reason for this kind of attitude and I try to ignore it but how can you ignore something you are passionate about that makes you angry?

I guess it all boils down to me and my disfucktional family and I am bitter and resentful that just because my brother has a COCK, I still had to work TWICE as hard for my achievements and recognition.

I even fucking walked to school to try to rid myself of some of this aggression. I should have read my e-mail before I left so I could have stewed over this and walked harder.

I refuse to DE-EVOLVE into that 1940's mentality, vomit, and I wish it didn't make me angry, but it bothers me a whole fucking lot because women can do just as much as men can as long as they want to. Anybody can do whatever the fuck they want, haven't you figured that out yet? Oh Darren... Darren Stuart Embry... I could kiss you.

Men are like...

Men are like vacations:

They never seem to last long enough.

Men are like computers:

Hard to figure out and never have enough memory.

Men are like chocolate bars:

Sweet, smooth, and they usually head straight for your hips.

Men are like coffee:

The best ones are rich, warm, and can keep you up all night long.

Men are like horoscopes:

They always tell you what to do and they are usually wrong.

Men are like plungers:

They spend most of their time in a hardware store or the bathroom.

Men are like cement:

After getting laid, they take a long time to get hard.

Men are like snowstorms:

You never know when he's coming, how many inches you'll get, or how long it will last.

Men are like parking spots:

The good ones are taken and the rest are handicapped.

Why is it hard for women to find men who are sensitive, caring and good looking? Because those men already have boyfriends.

Monday...

I had the most enjoyable afternoon with my nephews today. I sat in the hammock and swung just looking up at the sky and enjoying nature. Nate told me I was silly and I put some shorts on Noah's head and said "Go show Daddy!" And you know what? HE UNDERSTOOD! He's only one, that is so cool. He just laughed and laughed.

I suppose now I understand a little bit better about the development of children so they become healthy adults. It's not so easy giving kids lots of time and energy because you have to give so much of yourself and I am not sure that is a commitment I ever want to make.

On the same token, Lesli and I had a conversation about kids and she teaches and she was like, a lot of them have rocks in their head. Her friend Pam told her it was like a responsibility for smart people to have kids so we can kind of keep it even.

I used to think I didn't want my own kids if I ever had them, that I would want to adopt, because of my shitty gene pool (yeah, I know, women can carry a lot of shit in their genes too) and I hate suffering as I watch someone I love suffer, so I didn't want to run the risk. I told this to Granny and she said "Well, you never know what you are getting with someone else's genes either."

That put a spear through my heart. Someone else's kids could be more fucked up then mine and that scares me. I used to honestly believe we were all the same, that stupid people were just pretending or something until I was in a group to do a paper and this girl that was graduating couldn't even read Jane Eyre and retain what she had read because she was all surface.

I was so flabbergasted to discover that not all people are really bright. I didn't even realize how bright I was until I started remember how in elementary school, there was a group of girls and we would all go to the counselor's office and just do little projects. I could never understand why I was included in that group until last year. Meredith Short went on to be a governor's scholar and Christy Hood was really bright, but she moved, and Natasha something (her mother led our girl scout troop and she hadn't lost one tooth by the time she was 9!) was also bright. And then there was me. What was I doing there? My parents had just divorced and I figured I was there as some kind of punishment or something. I didn't know I had done something special.

Time wore on and I was abused and neglected and there was all this talent and I had two outlets. One was swimming and the other was riding my dirt bike around the under developed neighborhood. I could pop wheelies and everything. I was so brave when I was 8 that as I watched the older boy do gainers (where you run forward and do a back flip) that I tried just like them and succeeded! I tried to get my dad to take photos of me one day and he just sat there with his Nikon camera and watched and didn't take one photo.

You know, there aren't that many photos of me as a kid, and I think or at least it's important to me to be able to document life. Maybe I go a little overboard now but still...

And I also suppose I do it because I am afraid I will lose my precious memories of life. I look at some of my photos from Russia or just anything really and I think to myself not what the aperture was, but what I felt at that exact moment, or what was going on around me as I took the photo and so when I look through old photos I think to myself, I was standing here and a rush of people walked by. I could smell their bodies and what they had been eating as well. I think Yes, here I was in the train station, going with Liuda to see her off to go back home (unsure if I would ever see her again) and at this moment, I was alone and a little frightened and sad. Everyone looks at you as you snap photos and there was this one girl, that was just so beautiful and I stood and watched her and in one instant, I knew that was the last photo I wanted at that train station. I took it and a man in her group told one of the women to get me and expose my roll of film and I shook my head no. She was deaf, and she knew I was foreign and she kept motioning and I said no again. She had a blue rug in her arm and she acted as if she were going to hurt me and I shook my head no one more time and then ran back trough the tunnel through the metro. She had thrown her drink on me and I was so scared they were going to chase me. I could/can smell the drink on my back, some orange stuff, and how it stuck to my skin. I ran furiously to a wagon and jumped inside and then it was over. My heart quit racing and my breathing returned when I locked myself into Vlad's apartment. I almost started crying. I called my mother and that was 2 weeks before I was to go home. The doctors had already released her from treatment and I knew there was something not right in the tone of her voice and I had been so sad and I couldn't figure out why, and when this happened...

I was intimidated to go out and photograph again. I wrestled with it all night and made myself go out the next day so I could force myself not be be afraid. I didn't take any big risks like that again, but went back to baby steps where I knew I would be safe and what I could do to try to protect myself a little better.

This was probably the most frightened I have ever been, before mom died. But it was so exciting as well, one of those moments in time that can never be bought that is a part of me and my identity.

Tuesday, March 31, 1998

I went to ceramics today and managed to cut my middle finger open when I was sticking my hand in my bucket of water. I got blood all over my clay, but not bad enough to discolor it although it left some really cool designs in my water.

I was suppose to meet Patty (the women I met on the plane) at her house for lunch, and had an inkling to call her up and cancel but her son was ill and she did it for me.

I think walking to school has improved my demeanor. I am not so frustrated because for whatever reason walking helps and I want you to know, dear reader, that I am not walking for my health but because I have so many fucking parking tickets on both the cars I now possess that if I were to park on campus, they would tow my car.

They have a rule that if you don't pay these tickets, then you can't graduate. I am sad to report that my mother will never walk in the procession since the cars are in her name (left that way so I could intentionally get tickets, mind you). Besides, the thought of a corpse walking to get a diploma mildly amuses me.

I got a letter from Hospice today. It's a form letter that they send to everybody and it reads:

Dear Ms Clay,

It may be difficult to believe that two months have passes since the death or your mother. For some people that time seems to stand still - for others it seems to fly by.

Feelings of shock or numbness that accompany death, regardless of how well prepared you may have been for the loss, have most likely lessened. with that, people often find themselves feeling, perhaps for the first time, the reality of death. At a time when so many people feel a strong need for support, friends and family may have returned to their own lives and interests. Bereaved people sometimes feel that the world expect them to be getting on with things - but this is not an unusual feeling. In fact, it's all part of the natural process of grief.

Grief is not an illness, but rather a long, painful, and difficult process that each person must experience in order to cope with death in a healthy way. Though each person grieves in a way that is uniquely his or her own, there are some common features of grief - some or all of which you may find are a part of your experience at this time.

Many grieving persons worry that they are "going crazy." Though you may feel this way, too, it is important for you to know that the feelings, thoughts and behaviors you may be experiencing are probably quite normal. Feelings of depression, guilt, and anger are common. Some people find that they actually sense, hear , or see their deceased loved one. This is not unusual - and it is not crazy.

Regardless of your feelings, it is best to get them out into the open. Talking with others about your mother's death and expressing the total range of your feelings is important for a healthy recovery.

Please know that Hospice care continues after death, that we are concerned about you and your family, and that we stand ready to help and support you.

We hope that you will call upon us if you have any questions about your experience with grief, the experience of any family members, or if we can provide any additional support to you at this time.

Yeah, like I could forget my mom died. Hey, here's a happy reminder, in case you forgot, that you mother is dead. We are here to support and listen to you, but... quit moping, get off your fucking ass, and make something of yourself, goddammit. Grieving is a slow and painful process, but you have been doing it for so long that it probably seems weird to have your own fucking life.

So I spoke with Anne the other day and everything is normal again. (Lesli defined normal as getting use to change, and I rather like that definition.) She went and saw dad and he told her that she would probably be the only one of us who would have anything to do with him since she was trying.

That made me a little sad, so I wrote him a letter and told him about how I feel that if he wanted to communicate, I am willing, but only by letters. I feel that in order to move on with your life, you need to recognize what you personally have done wrong and then forgive yourself so that it's easier for other people to forgive you. This is one of the most important pieces of advice I have for everybody on the planet.

I didn't know the zip code so I didn't send it and after much deliberation, I decided against sending it. He's the adult, and I can forgive him for what he has done to me, but first he has to accept what he has done and forgive himself.

Besides, that was a moment of weakness, of wanting to gain his love and acceptance, and I don't ever see that happening. Why should I have anything to do with him now when he only wants to be involved in our lives when it not only is convenient for him but also when times are good? A fair weather father, how inane.

And I don't really think I could ever share myself with him because even though I am an adult now, I would not be comfortable around him because he abused me. Besides, what can he do for me that I can't do for myself?

So ends the month of March.

Pure
Photography

PHOTOS\

Dr. Block's

Nature

Cubes

Europe

Portraits

Fantasy

Dying

Kazantip

Birthday

Russia '96

Russia

London '99

Stills '98