Friday, May 1, 1998

Hold your horses... hahahahaha haha

I just came from the head of the department's office and he was extremely understanding. I feel like crying. Sigh. I will write more later.

So he was really compassionate to me, and I don't know why I assumed he would treat me poorly, but I suppose with our history of not really having one... I don't know... I don't know...

I am having one of those insecure days... where I hate myself and feel very bizarre about life.

There is fucking traffic everywhere, and I forgot it's Derby. I mean I forgot what Derby implies. I have just been so self-absorbed and introspective, it's kind of hard to notice anything. I don't even watch the news anymore because the last time I watched it with some regularity, I saw my father on the news for some case.

I am beginning to believe if we hadn't have had that falling out 10 years ago this past weekend, and we hadn't of moved in with my "dying" mother then, he would not be as successful as he is now because when he had all that time instead of worrying about us in his own fucked up manner, he was able to devote more of it to his career.

So there is that. Then after I talked with Jim about the Michelle incident, I came home and Anne was looking for me, so I went out to Lesli's and just hung out with them. Anne's going to Derby tomorrow with dad. I assume he got box seats or something, but I think that's so weird because locals don't go to Derby... (do I need to know this about him?)

I was swinging with Nate, and apparently Lesli and Doug had not had the talk with him about watching what you say to adults because Thomas walked by us while we were in the hammock and Nate yelled to him that he was a liar and a cheater and I was soooo embarrassed.

Doug had to explain to him about how adults don't like to hear that kind of truth and I just can't get over it, especially when I think about him threatening his life. But I also can't really blame the kid, I mean Thomas didn't get him anything for his birthday and he doesn't say "hi" to him when he sees him outside or anything.

Then yesterday, Jenna and I were hanging out with this guy from one of her classes. We went over to his house to take pictures and I recognized this ugly little brown dog. It was my ex-roomie's. I almost shit in my pants. I got a little fucked up and I wouldn't shut up about how he was a dick so I am sure this guy just thinks I am a total idgit because Jenna was like, "You shouldn't say such bad things about people, I mean, he has to live with him." Then I got the pleasure of seeing good `ol Dave. Then Jenna was like, "you need to patch things up with him." For some reason, I sure as fuck don't see that happening unless he pays me back the money he owes me. I am not the one that had a problem taking care of my responsibilities.

But I also hate that aspect of my personality. I hate being negative and maybe it's just time for me not to get fucked up anymore because I am not such a wonderful person. I am hoping a few months over in Europe will change that, that maybe I will come back "all grown up" but maybe that is stupid as well. I don't suppose I can really change who I am and I have tempered myself so much to be around other people... (I fucking HATE THIS and I feel like I am going mad trying to "fit" in somewhere.)

I hate being plagued with self-doubt instigated by others because then not only do I worry about what I say around these people... but I am also scared about the direction my life is about to take and I just don't fucking know what to do. I fucking hate transition periods. THEY BLOW.

I can't believe I am allowing this to bother me, but if it weren't this, it would be something else. It's just been one of those awful days where it's going to lead into an awful month.

I wish I didn't fucking think so fucking much all the time. It's really is wearing on my nerves. This fucking life is wearing me out...

change change change

Saturday, May 2, 1998

Jenna woke me up this morning. I was kind of glad. She was puking her guts out last night.

I told Anne to bet $30 on these three horses that I think are going to win, I will let you know.

My cat is going insane. It hasn't been just him and me for a long time now and he's not used to being the only cat. I miss Cootie. I wish he would come home. I have to assume the worst because I know he ran faster then lightning and wasn't a social cat. I got him from the farm across the street at my mom's house and he was wild, but I wanted him. He never really did get tame, either. But Sylvester loved him and was like a mommy to him.

I told mom when I got Cootie that Sylvester needed a kitten to take care of and she told me I couldn't have another cat but I didn't give a fuck after she had gotten rid of my dog, I got him and of coarse her heart melted because he was this little black thing and she loved black cats.

She told me later that I was right, Sylvester needed a companion and I just remember her sitting on these ugly orange couches, drinking coffee, commenting over and over again how much calmer and how much he loved Cootie.

I haven't cried about my mom for sometime. I was watching The Crow last night as I drifted out of consciousness and he said "mother is name of God on all the hearts and lips of their children" and I started crying a little because my God is dead. I see so much now, mistakes she made, attitudes I abhor, how she never grew up, but that doesn't change the bond I shared with her.

She breast fed us back when it wasn't so popular to do so. I think it creates a stronger bond. Noah fell off a chair yesterday and hit his head and he was crying so hard. Doug brought him down to Lesli and he cried in her arms and then started to nurse. This continued for about 5 minutes. He would nurse and then break away and cry. It's that mommy thing you can only feel with her.

I think that's what we seek in other people to a certain extent. That comfort when we are hurting. I think all humans seek the basic need to be comforted when we are hurting like the way a mother does. And we all desire that closeness with another human that we felt with our mothers as we fed from their bodies.

I believe that a lot of psychological problems are more basic then people make them out to be, that it all starts when we are in utero but I have no scientific evidence, I just know how I feel and what experiences I have lived with, and that is a far greater teacher then anything you can learn in a textbook.

I am sad now. I know the only way I will ever feel that bond again is if I have children and I am not so sure I want that because I don't want anyone to have this kind of power over me. I know that my brain really has no control over my body this way because I have moments when my body is saying "get pregnant" and that is scary.

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know about anything.

Sunday, May 3, 1998

My horses lost... Sigh. Never pick the winner before the day of the race.

Lazy, lazy, lazy day. Some cleaning, careful bathing and shaving of legs and other areas. Hoping to go out with Jenna but she was ill. Andy here all day, he gave me comfort and love.

Restless, Priscilla calls and wants to go out. Andy leaves. I make yucky Lipton noodles without milk and speak with Jenna for about an hour on the phone, explain history of my family...

Priscilla gets here and I am not dressed. We get ready and I make her change her clothes. We went to Cafe Kilimanjaro's to enjoy Salsa, Reggae, and other good, happy music. We arrive early and there aren't many people.

We drink, and I keep looking around, one man stands out in my eyes. After threatening to ask him to dance, I make eye contact, point to the dance floor and he points at himself and I nod. He meets me there and his arms as as big as... the kind of arms that you can melt into after a horrible day. We dance twice, he leads me well because he is so bulky and knows how to move my clumsy ass. Second dance is closer, breasts rubbing up against his chest more then once. I am not so comfortable...

Priscilla urges me to sit and talk with him. After 45 minutes and several drinks later, I fetch her to come to the table.

He smells of Quantum cologne which still clings to my nose as I write these words. He is a refugee from Cuba, a doctor (I smile to myself). He came here to make a better life...

30 years old, solid as a Mack truck, injured from his last trip home, a month ago (motorcycle accident where he hit a goat... broken leg and dislocated shoulder... he removed the casts on his own), no children, handsome. I let him talk, not because I didn't want to divulge much about myself, but because I wanted to listen. His English is good, he says he can read and write better (the opposite is true for me in Russian).

Parents, both alive and living in Cuba. Sister that is also a math teacher and brother studying to be an engineer. I forget to ask if he is the middle, I assume yes because we are, in general, more adventurous.

Dancing with his room mate, because he wants me to have fun. Laughing, giddy, acting like a woman "should." All grown up, few cuss words, groomed in the proper manner. I sit down and tell him how you can tell about a woman by how cheap her shoes are...

"And what about a man?"

"They are different, you have to talk with them." I reply.

Massaging his neck because he had a headache, dancing again, closer. Priscilla, drunk off her ass. We drive to Indiana to look at the skyline. (whoop tie do!)

I later confess I got my shoes on sale, and he kidded me that they were cheap then and I said, "No, they are leather. Just because I got them on sale does not make them cheap."

He was chilled in the moist night air and I gave him my coat to wear since he is used to living in the tropics. He didn't want to take it until I did say "See, I am fine, my nipples aren't hard." An argument a man can't possibly get around. He's a Baptist. The last thing I remember was "I have talked all night, you know so much about me. I know nothing about you." I told him about my sisters, brother and nephews. No mention of my dead mother or dead beat dad. I told him how I am graduating. About work (ha!). How I am a photographer and he asks how Russian and Photography go together and makes the smartass comment that I hear so often "So does this mean you are going to go to Russia to take pictures?"

Well, yeah.

I feel a little tug on my heart, because I feel I am about to start something that would be so nice, maybe. With my betting average lately... but I think it would be nice to have a lover, someone that just thinks wonderful things about me, someone that doesn't have to see me sad... I think that the world would be a better place if we all had at least one or two people that remembered us this way.

Then again, he will probably lose my number... but I had a wonderful night tonight, and I can still smell his cologne over the cigarettes and spirits that linger on my breath.

Monday, May 4, 1998

I'm such a sucker... this lady was walking door to door selling her little crafty objects de art so naturally I buy one. You have to admire someone that has the ovaries to sell their shit door-to-door. I could never do it.

"Excuse me sir, I realize that you are a big red-neck, oh hi, I see you beat you wife with a belt, nice choice, anyways, would you happen to be interested in buying some photos of homosexuals? Well, that's quite all right, sorry to have disturbed you..."

I fucking live in the Redneck Rivera. Shudder.

So, dealing with Andy has started to become more complex. He basically wants to fuck all my friends, and granted they are all very fuckable, it's really getting on my nerves. He was here last night and he helped me tape some scenes for my 5 minute grief video. I couldn't fucking believe that as I was doing this thing, it would be so short. I suppose I am proud of myself because it has been such a long drawn out process and it's nice to see the result.

The chick that helped me, Edith Crucher, was just oh-so-marvelous. I paid her to help me out and gave her credit for editing (quite simply because I didn't have the patience to fuck with the equipment all day). It took hardly any time and I feel a little light headed because it's over.

I showed Jenna and she was like "it's powerful. It's so you."

I walked into Video Kitchen and was like, "I need help." It wasn't until we were done did Edith say, "Was that all real?"

I was like "Yep."

It was a pretty surreal day. I feel good that I got that completed, an idea that had been brimming in my head all semester knocked out in one day. Scary in a way.

So then I took a nap and Jenna called and we went to Leann's place to study. It was pleasant. Ah... fucking head cold. Fucking figures I would get one when finals are here. I fucking hate being sicker.

That's it, I can't think any more...

Tuesday, May 5, 1998

Down to the wire and what am I doing?

I was in a frenzy today. Dropped clothes off at Laundromat and ran to grocery store (cleaned before that) and I am just in a whirlwind. Hi Tanya, I am thinking about you... I will call soon when my head isn't swimming. Tomorrow pick up cap and gown. I can't believe I'm doing this...

Wednesday, May 6, 1998

I ROCK!!!

I am so proud of myself. I hate, just abhor taking any kind of exam, they scare the fuck out of me and I totally did awesome on this exam I just did, in my humble opinion. Plus my professor totally rocks, Ph.D. Van Ausdale. I knew most of the identifications and the years and I was able to articulate what I wanted to say. I am ready for the semester to begin.

HA HA.

So Zack is staying with me. We watched videos we did and he was so impressed with this tape I did of him because it doesn't show him being so "faggy." It just shows him as he wants to be seen. He was surprised and I said to him, "well, a different person videoed, so of coarse it's going to be different."

Plus he got slammed in his final crit for being "Narcissistic." Ah... now there is a good topic to talk about. I don't see him so much as being that way because I demand more of him and he delivers to me so in my mind, he has every right to be vain, because he is so fucking adorable and sexy, although I think he might argue with me on that point.

Wouldn't it be strange if we could look at ourselves through other people's eyes? I think that's what photography is all about. I take photos of people in a way that I see them and then, they start feeling better about themselves and it's so nice to get a little piece of that confidence because at first, they give you such an ego boost for taking such great images.

Vlad, I think, almost started crying when he saw himself through my eyes. He's a bodybuilder and if you didn't know, most of them have low self-esteem and it doesn't get better the nicer their body gets for some fucked up reason. I think the same goes for a model. I would hate (not really) to think that I am just a piece of meat in front of a frame, but then again, I don't think I have that problem.

So Zack and I talked and talked all night, it was so wonderful. It reminded me of when I was a girl and I used to talk to Anne before I would go to sleep.

Speaking of which, I talked to Anne last night. She went to Derby and had a lovely time, although she finds it really hard to be around my father because he doesn't communicate. I have inherited this dis-function to a certain extent because it so hard for me to tell anybody how I feel, except for certain people.

So my step monster asked Anne if I was thinking about reconciling with my father, and I am not going to lie, 7 years is a long fucking time not to talk to someone who raised you, but I don't think I could deal with him unless he got e-mail and wrote to me. I know I could drag stuff out of him this way because it's so easy for me to spill my guts to a screen... well not totally spill my guts, there are some things I hold back, if you can believe it.

Anyway, I don't really see that happening. I could see him neglecting to e-mail me and I really need that kind of attention for some fucked up reason. Then I thought of the analogy that with my parents, we were stuck between a tiger and a boulder. Sure the tiger causes deep lacerations, but it also purrs. Zack said it was more like a kitten, and I was like, "no, she fucked up pretty bad. She wasn't an adult."

Then he pointed out that mom was human and that she also came from a different time where women weren't really allowed to realize their full potential. Which I see his point now and agree with him.

It's just so easy not to be involved with someone now. Although I lack the companionship and sex, I sure as hell don't want to deal with shit, but we all have shit to give and take. I think women today just aren't as accepting as women were in previous generations. That's why we wait longer to get married. And with today's technology, there really is no need for us to populate so quickly.

So if women aren't as accepting, then that means men have to straighten up. And if they don't... they'll learn.

I just picked up my cap and gown and I almost started crying. I want my mommy... oh, this hurts so bad. I know if she were here she would tell me she couldn't sit through the ceremony, but... I think I am going to go cry, I can't help it and I haven't cried for a week, what's my body going to think?

Thursday, May 7, 1998

I really hate myself. I don't know what I was thinking but I missed my photo final yesterday. I thought it was at 5 and it was suppose to be at 10. Why did I do this? I have never missed a critique, let alone a final. I called Don and when he returned my call he was pissed because he though the video was going to be about an hour and when I told him it was 5 minutes, he was enraged.

But when he told me half way through the semester that "we can't grieve for you" I thought if I made it much longer, it would be a long drawn out process that nobody would want to see. So I assumed shorter was better. I don't know... I am suppose to drop it off at 8 am this morning and then we will see.

I hate depending on all this shit. I hate all this bullshit that I am going through right now. I hate that my mommy isn't here because once I am done and there is no school for me to do, all I am going to have to think about is what is going on with how I feel, and we all know that feelings aren't...

For my B.F.A. show, I took 36 different photos of me in different moods, and they were all different and I wrote with silver paint over them "feelings are porn" and I believe that. If you feel anything instead of being so calm and situated under that facade you keep in front of others, then people can't deal with you, or at least this has been my experience.

I walked home yesterday when I realize how bad I fucked up and cried the whole way home about everything. Then I got in the bathtub and just kept wailing. Zack was still out and so I wailed as loud as I could, then I called my Granny and cried to her about what a fucking loser I am and how I keep fucking up.

The Cathy Clay I know would have NEVER been such a fucking loser, but she was also not so vulnerable.

So I sat in the bath tub for a while longer and cried and then decided it was time to take a chill pill so I got out of the bath tub and took a Xanex to calm myself down. I laid in my bed and when Zack got home, I felt so much better. He cheered me up. Then I went and laid back down and Don called and showed his disappointment in me so I felt even worse because I am not used to letting other people down. I usually like to stick to my guns and do what I say I'm going to do.

But that was the me before mom died. Now I am someone else, and I don't know who she is. It's not easy learning about her either because nothing is simple and nothing is rational. She makes no sense to me, but she is taking over my body and changing the way I perceive and think about life. I suppose I am evolving, and evolution is a painful process.

Friday, May 8, 1998

Exhilarating... Frightening... Overwhelming...

I could smell the chemicals from where the robe had been cleaned burn off as I ironed it free of wrinkles. I wonder what I am going to wear underneath and I think I should have my pleated black skirt ironed so I can wear it. I washed the pleats out of it about a year ago and haven't bothered to fix it. Then I think I will just be naked. I like that idea. I think it's going to win because that's how I feel, naked as the day I was born.

I had to see my doctor today because of an out of hand sinus infection and got lots of refills for my trip over seas. Andy is going to buy me my own domain for graduating. http://catherineclay.com. I hope. Then he's going to be my server. I already have an idea for a new opening page set in a bathroom.

I could just wear a bra, garter belt and panties. No, I don't think I will wear my panties. The one time I woke up to go to a ceremony to win a scholarship I made the conscious decision not to wear panties and out of about 1200 people, there were only two winners and I was one of them.

I was late to rehearsal and I almost started to cry when I didn't see my name in alphabetic order. I didn't turn over the paper so I asked someone else to see theirs and saw that there was an order for degrees and instead of being 230 something I am 57th because I am getting my B.F.A. I was so happy. There are only 5 of us. I have distinguished myself from the others in some way, not academically, no gold robes, but with my degree, and that made me feel more powerful for some reason.

I saw my ex-roommate at rehearsal and then at the banquet they gave for us tonight and I saw her again with her family. I don't want to have any bad feelings against her anymore. I used to think highly of her and her family, but after tonight, since they just avoided me I can't really have an opinion.

Went to Katie's and told her I was starting to feel weird and she told me that I need to start accomplishing little things at a time, like cleaning the bathtub and shit like that and I said "I'm graduating tomorrow, and I can't feel an accomplishment in that, what's wrong with me?"

"It's not a small enough task. You are used to it and now you won't be. Plus you are going to Europe, bitch, I hate you, the only two places I have been are Canada and Mexico and that was when I was 12 and 6."

I love her. She makes me feel good. She cracks me up, and I feel so much better now.

Chad came by with some chick and we talked a little about our dead mommies and when I said I was leaving I told him we should go to dinner, just the two of us to make us feel special and he was like "I'm going to go see my mom on Sunday."

And I said "I'll go out there with you, where is she?"

And it turns out our mommies are buried in the same cemetery. (His mom died a month or six weeks ago). They are probably neighbors. They can lay there and tell each other secrets about their kids that share this bond. How fucked up.

I bought film and cards for the mommies I know, and I bought myself a graduation card from a mother to a daughter, because I need that sentiment even if my mommy can't tell me that in real life.

It's the fucking cheesiest card, with an ocean and a stupid dove or something on it, but it tells me how proud my mom is of me for graduating, so I sat there and read it and cried as I looked for other mother's day cards. All these people just standing their, rifling through these cars and I'm balling, trying not to make noises, but they could tell I was emotional. I'm not going to pretend anymore. People already think I am just open but I'm going to cry in public now, and watch stupid romantic movies that make me hope... and I am going to be even sweeter and more considerate to strangers. And I am going to quit saying "fuck" so much (yeah right).

And I am going to just take a million books with me to Russia and sit around and read and take photos and be oh-so bourgeois with my college degrees, American passport and eat in "nice" restaurants and go to Propaganda and Chance and whatever new clubs have arrived in Moscow and look at pretty art and go see Roman, and go to St. P's and be disgusted with the condition of the Hermitage and see Natalia and eat Russian (oh it's so yummy) ice cream on Red Square and shop in GUM and bitch about the Russian girls and their short skirts and bad make-up and mock the Russians in a way that reveals a touch of envy at how fucked up their country is and how rapidly it's all changing.

Then it's off to other, new places!

Monday, May 11, 1998

Ah... the price of vanity. How far would you go to fix yourself?

I just had spider veins injected, as a graduation present to myself. I have actually been spoiling myself rather rotten and I need to stop.

Wore just the bra, thong, and garter belt with lines in my stockings going up the back of my legs to graduation. I was probably the most comfortable one there.

Jerry Lewis gave the speech and in true Cathy Clay fashion, I had to say something. He was telling us about how he didn't have a formal education and as he looked out at us wearing "those stupid hats... come on, why don't you take them off."

I yelled "YOU CAN HAVE MINE"

And everybody started laughing and then he said "Hey lady, no soliciting!"

Then there was a roar. The guy I was sitting next to was 6 shades redder. I think I pissed him off. But Jason Monks just smiled. I should have sat next to him the entire time so I could express myself much better.

Andy taped it so you can hear it. Andy bought me my own domain, so soon these files will be on his server and you will find me at catherineclay.com. I'm so excited! That's the coolest graduation present I got. I didn't send out invitations, so... and I was suppose to get something from UPS the other morning, but that hasn't come either.(pout, sulk...)

So... that was fun. I wet to Lesli's and we ate some cake and Anne and I both blubbered. I fell asleep on Lesli's couch and then Thomas called Lesli and showed his ass. He is trying to let us know that he has some kind of control over our lives and we are still blowing him off. He has to learn that you can't treat people like shit and expect them to take it. This is a lesson I had to go through as well. I still have to figure out how to treat people and let me tell you, it's not easy, at least not for me.

So I came home and went back to sleep. I thought I would maybe go to Sparks, but I was too exhausted. Jenna didn't come, and she felt a little bad, but as I sat there and looked at all the mommies and daddies proud of their kids, I got this strange sensation and Jenny's words of "you don't need anybody" washed over me. I thought of my friend Kristen, who is working on her Ph.D. at Yale, and found solace in thinking that she graduated from Brown and her parents weren't there to see her, and for some reason, that made it all OK, not better, just a way for me to accept this station in my life.

So Sunday, Mother's Day, wasn't as bad as I anticipated, although when we were all at her grave, I couldn't cry. I just couldn't cry, perhaps because I know my own suffering has been alleviated in watching her die, and it's so apparent in everything I do. Today, when the nurse was wrapping me up she couldn't get over what good spirits I was in because this procedure I had done is suppose to be painful, and it is rather bothersome, but it's not unbearable. I was cracking jokes, like my legs are wrapped in bandages, so I asked if she was going to do my entire body.

When she first came in, I was like "Can I run out in the waiting room and yell `don't go in there!'?" because there was blood everywhere and it looked rather nasty.

O.K. Jenna is here now and we are going to socialize.

Ouch. I am in pain. So M.F.A. Grubola called me and figured out a solution to the problem I was having with Michelle. I have to petition to have my grades, which she gave me Ds changed to Ps (pass) which just shows that I went through the class, that I get credit, but it doesn't go against my GPA. I feel a lot better. I have to take care of that tomorrow.

I went to work today, and nobody was there, and Sheila called me to see if I had just quit totally, and I haven't but I suppose I should, I don't know. Now I don't have to stick around for next semester to take ceramics like I almost thought I would have to do. Sigh... I should just quit my job.

I bought my ticket to Boston yesterday. I will be there from the 7th until the 14th, come back for my grandmother's 75th birthday (I'm buying her a balloon ride) and then go to New York for a few days and then leave for Europe. I hate being such a fucking flake. It kills me. I'll go see Roman and Lena. Trans Siberian railroad it through China for a little and go to Italy (Venice) and then Spain (Madrid and Barcelona). There, dammit.

I think when I come back, I am just going to go to California and try to find some sort of job.

Melissa and I played friend tag all weekend. She wanted me to watch Colin and I said I would, and I was on Xanax so I forgot about prior commitments. Then I had a sinus infection that got out of hand and I went to the doctor on Friday to get that under control, so I slept Friday night until about 8.

She wanted to come to my graduation, but Colin was being fussy and so she had to do the mommy thing. So she didn't come to that and neither did Jenna or Priscilla. That's a big favor to ask a friend and I didn't really expect them to come, but it would have been nice, but they have been there for much worse, when I have been royally fucked up, so I really can't complain.

So I went over there yesterday and we sat and talked about things for 4 hours. Really deep conversations and she told me she liked that I speak my mind and that I am just so damn lovable and I was so surprised to hear her say that. It made me feel good. Then we talked about what it means to be a best friend and she is my best friend. She hasn't used me for anything and she's never been mean or hateful to me, she can talk to me about many different things on different levels and I think we basically share the same mental image when we relate stories to one another and that's what I think constitutes a best friend.

Tanya can do the same, when we are hitting each other at the right time, it's truly amazing, but there is the proximity problem which bites since I can't pop in on her whenever.

And Jenna could be that way, and I think she wants to be that but she sees how she fucks up in a way and I told her it just has to do with maturity. You can strive to be a better person and then soon you find that you aren't making the same mistakes you did when you were younger and it's an amazing thing.

I was telling Melissa how Thomas embarrassed me at my graduation for saying he was going to "nail that cunt to the fucking wall" so other people could hear him, and it pissed me off so much. I was surprised it bothered me so much, but it did. I told her how I didn't like hearing that out in public where before I found it amusing, now I just find it a sign of immaturity.

She told me that it was a gradual change, that mom didn't die and then all of a sudden I was just instantly more mature, as I had believed, and when she pointed this out to me, I must admit that she is correct. It has been a gradual change.

I have so much crap to do. Pack the house, have a yard sale... When I start prioritizing what it is I need to do I just want to take a nap. So I think I am ready for bed, Plus I did have an invasive treatment today...

Tuesday, May 12, 1998

My computer has been good lately, but I haven't taken it out of the house.

I was able to run some errands today, and I am just BEAT. I woke up from a nap and I don't feel that much better. Sleepy. I talked with my grandmother last night and told her what I did and she told me that she had been contemplating doing the same thing because her veins at age 75 bother her a lot, so I guess it's 6 and a half one, dozen another. It's going to hurt no matter what so I suppose it was better that I went on ahead and had it done.

I was thinking the other day about sex. Now that I have all this free time, I am sure my life will be devoted to this issue. I don't know how people can deny that their sexuality is such a part of who they are, and it truly frightens me that a lot of women I know don't know anything about their bodies.

If Cosmo had one article a month devoted to "getting to know the sexual you" instead of "Is he a guy or a man" then I think we could all lead richer, more fulfilling lives. I mean, you can lead a horse to water...

I was also thinking about this sexual peak issue. I think that men have theirs at an early age because then the rest of their life they are trying to catch what it is they lost at a young age while women... he he he... we are lucky because we can fully appreciate ours when it's here. I can't wait until I get mine. That's only 11 years away since I will be 19 again this birthday which is rapidly approaching. Actually, it's more like 10 years, but who's counting?

God, I am so horny I could die. I am stuck in this limbo because the man I would like to be with doesn't live close (sometimes, I really fucking hate technology) and masturbating get old, at least for me it does.

I spent some time with Ph.D. Dakan today. I totally adore him for who he is, and he was sad today and I hope I was able to cheer him up. He told me about how he read about some woman shouting "you can have mine" to Jerry Lewis in the paper and laughed when I said that was me. I told him he was a babe and I don't think he believes me but I really mean it. He has that "I'm a dirty old man" air about him, but he's also a sweet, wonderful, caring man and I am really glad I got to know him. He came to mom's funeral, and you know that he has earned a place with the gods for that reason.

I hope the problem that was bothering him resolves itself, because of everyone I know, he deserves to be loved greatly.

Maybe we all deserve to be loved greatly. I, being a middle child, had to basically claw and scratch my way to feel loved from my mom and dad (not Granny and Pop). So I think that has something to do with why it's easy for me to love other people and feel their love. Only children sadden me, because they never had to fight for that attention, they take it for granted, at least that's how I see it with Andy and my mom. Jenna is a middle child, and now that I think about it, so is Melissa. Ha. I had forgotten that until just now. I suppose that's why we can relate to each other so well. I hope that when I do decide to have a family, I have about 5 or 6 kids. I don't want to play them off one another, like my mom did, but that's something I have to work out in my own head first.

This transition of working my ass off to not doing anything is about to kill me. I am going a little crazy because there really isn't anything I can do with my legs hurting now and so I have to just sit and read.

I talked with Haddy last night about going to Boston and we are both so excited. I am such a spaz. So is she. It's funny. I don't know what I would do without her because she has mommied me in the ways I need to be mommied. I also can't wait to meet her dad. He's a painter and he does such fine work. (Maybe I can meet Tanya's dad while I am there).

I need to thank some people, I feel, that have supported me through this awful phase in my life. Peter, Had, Keir, Tanya, Beth, Jan, B. D., and I know I am leaving someone out (and if I am, please let me know because it is not my intention to do so), but it would have been really difficult if I didn't have you all cheering me on the past few months. Your encouragement for me to hang in there has meant more to me then I could ever tell you, so thank you.

Now that I am all teary, I am going to wrap my legs back up and go find something to eat.

Wednesday, May 13, 1998

I am just a big ball of confusion. Why do we, as a society, put so much into tradition, when most of the time tradition is what needs to be shaken up? Sigh...

I think that I have figured out something about arguments. I think that when someone is arguing a point, and the person they are arguing with discounts what the first person believes in, and person B is revealing his ignorance and fear and to subside feelings of inadequacy or whatever, he puts person A into a position where she doubts everything she has come to believe.

So this makes me think to myself, why are women with assholes?

I had love and total reign over my last relationship, but it still wasn't enough for me. I needed more. I need someone that will stand up to me and not take shit from me, but I find it to be a frustrating way of life. Why is it that strong women need this? That challenge. That feeling that someone else thinks you are full of shit and they call you out on it. Why do we desire this? Is it so we can feel more alive? Is it addictive like a drug, to feel such passion and longing for someone you know is a pretentious fuck? Is it that feeling that drives us and makes us happy?

How can you even begin to define such things? Or give them words so that other people can share in your mental image?

Then you get all your friends telling you how stupid you are and irrationality takes over and nothing makes sense and when you go to your friends for solace, they give you shit for not dumping that pretentious asshole. I know, because I have been that friend.

Today is Lesli and Doug's wedding anniversary. I think it's about 13 years now.

Andy took me to the Irish Rover last night. One of my best friend's from high school, Mikey, her brother in law owns it. It's a nice little pub, although I wasn't impressed with the food last night. I think that is basically because there was a ghost with me. Last time I was there my mom took me and I felt strange about being there all night. Very unsettled. Mikey is getting married on June the sixth.

This Saturday is going to suck because I am going to be so busy. Start off photographing Melissa and Colin at swim class, then Mikey is having a bridal shower, then another girl I have known all my life (but am not great friends with) is getting married and then there is the Hawaiian party at Todd's. I can't fucking wait for that. I think a million people are going to be there.

I need to work on these papers. I suppose I will just do the research, like I intended, and go to Granny and Pop's next week to write it all out. I need to pack some more, though.

I'm going to go to the Kentucky Horse Park next week and fucking ride horses with Anne. I need to get this aggression out somehow.

Thursday, May 14, 1998

Lesli forgot it was her anniversary. 9 years officially, I think 13 un- officially.

I am at work, using a Mac and I thought that it would all be OK, but it feels strange.

I am so sad. I broke this top to this candle thing mom bought me yesterday. I was missing the top for years and I had just recently found it and now the top is broken and when I tried to glue it back together, it wouldn't take. I sat there, crying, with snot running out of my nose. Sorry to be so graphic, but I was so sad that I didn't even give a fuck. So hopefully, you have this image of me, sitting on the floor with snot running out of my nose, crying, listening to music and trying to make sense out of my life.

There is nothing to make any sense of, I fucking hate transitions.

I feel so spent, so raw and I don't know if going to Europe is such a good idea because of this reason, but other people think it's a good idea that I go. I imagine taking a few steps away from my current situation now will give me some breathing room as well. Liberation can be a good thing.

Sigh... I feel so strange. I go see Dr. Bergandi today at three, and I have come to rely on these sessions religiously. I don't understand how people can put credence in much of anything if they don't believe in themselves first, and I know it's hard to believe, but I am really trying to figure that out.

Jenna picked me up and we went to O'Charlie's last night for some artichoke and spinach dip. I was in such a foul mood that I imagine Jenna was just so happy to be around me. Then she told me how Frank told her to cut about 4 inches off her hair and someone else said something else about her that wasn't so kind that I just don't remember, and it got me to think, why do we need friends?

I mean really, I would think that most of us are our own worst enemy, why in the hell would you need someone that you care about be so critical of you over something so mundane? When I am with Jenna, I try to tell her wonderful things about herself, because honestly, I don't think we (people) give enough encouragement to each other as people should. It's nice being optimistic and have the ability to see the humor in all situations. I try to encourage most of the things my friends do unless it sounds as if they might hurt themselves.

But then that is stupid of me because I have led such a safe, guarded existence. I listen to other people's mistakes and I think to myself, "would I want to live or experience this kind of pain?" And usually the answer is "no." I'm such a mixture of tradition and progressive thoughts that it's really amusing when someone gets to know me and they are like "I wouldn't have figured you for that." But those differences do wear on me, because there is no grey, only black and white.

So knowing that, I was talking to the Doctor the other night and he called me a bigot. So, I thought to myself, "how can I be a bigot when I have done this or that?" And I looked up the definition and it basically states someone that has conflicting opinions. Well, I know I have many conflicting opinions, there is no doubt about that, and some of it is just shit that I was raised to believe in. I am trying to break those thoughts apart and make them disappear, but it seems like when I get to a certain level of understanding, something happens to reinforce the original attitude, and this makes it difficult for me to let things go because then I start thinking of all this shit again, in my original context.

So in that way, I suppose I am a bigot, so this is part of my immaturity that I suppose has to be brought up, but then I think he is full of shit and he is just saying this to make himself feel better. Because even though I am still fucked up, I still have a strong sense of who I am and where I come from. And I suppose it's better to acknowledge that I know I am somewhat of a bigot. I acknowledge many of my faults, but I also have many strengths and I would rather concentrate on those, because faults will always be there, they are the folly of man, and at least my weaknesses make me more... human.

Friday, May 15, 1998

I'm doing it... I am going to buy a G3. I will have the whole world in my hands. 8 gig hard drive... I think the only thing that computer is missing is wings. I will be a professional now, so I can justify spending the money that way, besides, I need to start having some solid objects for what I spend my money on.

So, the plan is to go to Europe, come back, go on vacation with Melissa and Colin, then come back and look for a job out west. I found the ideal job at C-NET in San Francisco. A technical designer. I don't think it will be all that impossible to get a job out there. I originally anticipated sitting on my ass for a year, to just grieve, but I don't think I will be able to sit still that long and since I have been back at work, I don't feel like I am falling into that pit of despair.

But Dr. Bergandi tells me I should just allow myself to feel those feelings and it's so hard for me to do that. I want to get over this process. I started reading Motherless Daughtersagain. I quit reading it a while ago because it was too much, but I picked back up on chapter 4 and that seems to be beneficial.

In a way, it cracked me up because it was talking about how once a tragedy like this happens, then you go through abandonment issues and you think that only bad stuff is going to happen, and she assures you that it won't, but I know differently because back when my mom was really bad when I was 17, Granny had an aneurysm (it sealed itself closed), then a few months later we found out I had "a brain mass" and two weeks later my mom had massive surgery and then 4 months after that, we discovered Anne had leukemia, and then 9 months after that Pop (my grandfather) was diagnosed with esophagial cancer. (Things can always get worse, I have discovered, but if you have the right attitude, you will get through it, I promise.)

When it all happened, we weren't really allowed to feel much of anything because all of a sudden, there was all this heaviness added to the situation of mom being terminally ill. Not to mention that my father wasn't paying child support. So it was just all these bad things stacking on top of one another and now I look back and think "Wow, you have been through a lot." I still don't know how to feel about half of it.

I know I was amused when I was sick because ha ha mom, there really is something wrong with my brain and you just thought I was crazy. But when Anne got sick, that deviated me. And I felt for Granny when Pop was sick, but I didn't feel for myself. When Granny was sick, that was pretty bad but mom wasn't so worried and so I wasn't so worried.

But now, my heart is broken, and I don't know how to fill that gaping wound that keeps bleeding. I get to a point where I think "you are going to be OK" and the next day I am sitting on the floor with snot streaming out of my nose like a 2 year old. There is no such thing as rationality.

Oh yeah, Jenna and I went to Sparks the other night and saw Colin's father. He looked bad, fluffy hair, really thin, ugly girlfriend. Jenna said to Andy last night that she couldn't understand how anyone could fuck up around Melissa because she is so great and Andy whole heartily agreed (since he wants to fuck her).

My legs aren't bothering me at all today, but I did notice one place that she missed. It said on the paper I got from the doctor that this rarely goes away in one treatment, but I really hoping since mine are so little, that it will all be OK and I won't have to do this again. I almost feel normal.

I am starting to get a little nervous when I spend money now. Well, I suppose I have always been nervous it just now I feel even worse. I want to go all over Europe, but I don't know how I can justify spending so much. Sigh. It will all be OK, Miss Clay.

And you will be happy to know that of the people I have poled, "do you think I am a bigot?" most disagree. Then some ask the context in which I was called a bigot (I was discussing the Guerrilla Girls' and what they do to the art world) and so I feel better. I even asked Dr. Bergandi (no), and he should know better then anybody, he's know me on that intimate level of thinking for 3 or 4 years now, and I do trust his opinion.

Here are some new photos.

The first one is of Cathy Thompson and me. I used to babysit her son, Ian. She was working for Earnest & Young when I met her. We talked about school and she had some hours and she always wanted to go back so she did and we got to graduate together. She was the first mom I had besides my mom. She means so much to me because through her, I was able to realize what a family should be. Photo by Jason Monks.

Then there is me and Jenna going to Ruth Chris Steak-house, photo by Andy.

That's me and my Granny. She is my mother's mother. She is lost right now. You can see the sadness in her eyes and to me, she looks as if she can start crying after this photo was taken. Photo by Lesli.

And then it's just me, photo by Jason Monks.

Sunday, May 17, 1998

Food, food, and more food. A Bacchanal delight which was my Saturday.

Took photographs of Colin, swimming, and rushed to see Mikey at her shower. Conversation with Cassie at her "new" house. She is stuck in it, lock stock and barrel. Married, wanting children. Doing the good thing, being a good wife, she will be a loving mother. All the things that frighten me are at that place. Social grace and a healthy respect for tradition. One annexoric looking girl relays her stories of going to exotic places. England, France, Sweden. I sit back and listen. She gives off an air about her that she is better then everyone else because she has traveled. I sit back and listen and wait because the element of surprise in everyone is so amusing. "Tell us about it..."

I smile, asking questions of what the people are like, etc. I don't understand why people are so impressed with someone that travels, I think I knew I would always travel, would always be moving. I stacked the boxes, inebriated, in delicate little rows so it will be easier to put all my stuff in storage. Strange to pack so much of my life away into a compact area that only holds sentimentality. I ache to be rid of these things, these memories that tie me to a past I can not live without. She continues, snobby. I laugh inside. Mikey is nowhere around. She can not see the look of amusement. When I finally divulge that I just graduated with 2 degrees and my concentration she ask if I had been to Russia.

I smile politely as I answer that I had. And I read a new found respect in her body language. The game has started, we can no longer chat, but I love these little social conventions that exist to put people in a higher place then they deserve because I sense she has still not gained a better appreciation of herself and what she can mean to society. She is not like me, I should say. She went to a foreign country where they spoke her language (although I seek out others that speak English, I still attempt Russian) so she did not force herself to be to terribly uncomfortable. And I don't think humans are willing to change and grow unless we experience life outside our own little sphere.

We introduce ourselves to the crowd. I am nervous and I hate this kind of attention. I didn't bring a gift. With the way I have been the past few weeks, I didn't even think to ask Cassie where Mickey was registered. I tell her as I walk through the door that I didn't even think to bring her a gift. She is very understanding and just happy to see me, so wonderful, so Mikey. Flood of memories fill my mind of double doozies, swimming, talking. Talking in her bedroom, talking on a grassy hill where boys playing golf moon us. Still in high school, not understanding college time verses the "I have time for everything" time of high school. I grew angry and jealous of time she couldn't make for me which I only understood after being in school. It's so strange to see how we mature and accept what we are instead of expecting so much from others.

Someone asks me if I "have any gossip on Mikey" and her eyes grow big as saucers. I think she anticipates the teenage me as well, not seeing how much I have changed even though she reads these passages. I almost revealed the worst secret that not many people know to her parents at my mother's visitation. The one she wants no one to remember, the one that made her eyes bulge as she heard the question and gave her a mini heart attack. "Yes, I do." I respond.

She grows a little more nervous and I enjoy her reaction as I reveal the misdemeanor of skinny dipping, because no nice Southern girl swims naked! Everyone starts laughing and a calm falls upon Mikey. I laugh too, because I know that these women are something I could never be. I do not understand them. I do not understand their ultra conservative world where they do not test the structures that have been so delicately constructed to save us from ourselves. Following the rules, like good little girls. Pillars of society. I knew I could never be one of these women, from the start. Memories of being at the lake house as a child. Listening to the way men and women talked. I always looked to my father at these situations, too stupid to understand he was socially inept. I adopt his mannerisms, his detached-ness, but I have a personality and he doesn't. I would make a great man, but I thank my lucky genes that I am a woman.

I win the first game. I have the most odd shit in my purse. A game Cassie devised. An expired condom, blah, blah, blah. I feel lucky. I never win at these things, so I feel special. I have to leave, for the wedding. Mikey's mom wants me to stay for food but I tell her I am going to a wedding. She knows I will be eating all day, but I can't resist a piece of her Texas sheet cake. That stuff is divine.

I rush to Lesli's, and Doug is mowing the lawn, Lesli is dying her hair, Noah is asleep, and I put a puzzle together for Nate that I found in one of those Kinder Surprise eggs. He loves those things more then anything. Not the actual chocolate that covers the outside, but the surprise inside the chocolate. He likes the idea of food encapsulating a treat. They are running late. Flurry of activity.

I read in Motherless Daughters the other day that it was rare for sisters to come together after their mommas die. I haven't stated this yet because I just didn't think about it but I have two of the most wonderful sisters on the planet. Even though Anne still has her moments, she still loves me to no end. And I feel closer to Lesli then I ever have. All the doubt and mistrust I first held for her (held away from me but was mightily aware of it's existence) has diminished into a deep sense of who we are and what we mean to each other. There is no other bond that is as special as a sister bond because these things should last forever. I wish I could say the same about my brother. That was my mother's only wish, for us to be like a family, too bad she was always a part of the problem she wanted to rectify.

We are late to the wedding. I feel like an idgit as I take photos because Noel is the photographer. It is a day of the human family coming together and little pieces start falling into place. Amazing how small the world is and how everyone knows everybody, 6 degrees and all that. I love to watch them, the member of this community.

It was Mary Beth Sheehan's wedding. She married Mike Brewer. I have known Mary Beth since I was 2. We haven't remained great friends, but we are more like cousins, and that is fine by me since all my other cousins are unknown to me. No matter what, I feel like I am a part of this crowd, and I know that if this were my marriage, they would all be there for me as well.

Jessie sits next to me. Pam's daughter. Mary Beth is Pam's sister. Pam is one of Lesli's best friends. Jessie looks so lovely. I can't believe how old she is. They were at Brandi and George's wedding as well, where I was a bridesmaid. We mainly converged together at that wedding. It felt good that she wanted to sit next to me because you know how teenagers can be. I always tell her how beautiful she is and how grown up she has become. She is now 14. We talked about boys and I tell her to make sure she gets good grades so she can leave Kentucky. There is no doubt of her going to college. She's so amazing. I look at her, and I see myself at her age, only I was shorter and bigger. Before I had a huge growth spurt. She reads and spends a lot of time with her friends, and that's what I did at her age, spending lots of time on the telephone. But we talked about stuff and I feel closer to her then I do almost anybody in this group, except her momma, because Pam was my first babysitter that I remember. She gave me some mothering last night and I took it from her. I could tell she was glad we helped Lesli out. She told me earlier that she was surprised to see me at the wedding and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. This is when I feel like I am a part of something, even though I am just mainly observing everyone. They all know about me through what Lesli tells them and what we reveal to each other. Plus I know if I needed anything, I could come to one of these women and ask them for it.

The structure is so hard to explain because that's not the most important part of this family, what's more important is that everyone remains an individual while weaving deeper, more satisfying relationships within the family. Nobody ever makes anybody feel like they are not a part, but you can tell who it is that brings the family together (Pam), and she always has special attention for everyone so we all feel special when we leave. This is how I perceive this whole thing. It's really quite amazing. Plus the structure is that so that more then the basic need to eat and socialize is being met. We are all emotionally involved on some level to one another. Mom was like Pam in a way. She was the only cool mom of this group of people. Everyone could talk to mom about anything so they would come out to mom's house and we would swim and play volleyball. I think Thomas ended that. He couldn't be a part so he would bitch to mom about how they didn't do this or that, so for a while, it was weird.

But when mom died, these were the people that cleaned Lesli's house and made us lasagna. These were the people that eased my soul so I could allow myself to actually start feeling again. These were the people we were surrounded by, drinking, smoking, loving each other for just being alive. I wish I could give to you just one tenth of the feeling I feel when I think about this group but I know I could never do it justice.

Moments in time, I never wish to forget. I have had so many of those lately with Jenna (she has such presence, much like Pam) and it seems like yesterday was one of those times as well. I never want to forget standing at the counter, eating pineapple and brie cheese, looking over at Mary Beth, the new bride with curly hair and beautiful light falling on her face. Jessie is next to me and we are eating, eating, eating. Lots of people come in from outside to eat and eat and eat. Mary Beth is afraid she is going to puke on her wedding night. They are camping out on the property. It's Becky and Pater's house. The house is all wood and when I first walked in, I felt like I was in the 1920's. It was just a great fucking place to be.

The feeding frenzy was continuing and I finally had to take my leave because there was another party going on and more men to see. I was in the mood for love but I am socially inept when it comes to men. I do not know how to ask someone to come home with me so I don't know why I keep trying. I am rather shy when it comes to such matters, go figure. I suppose my hormones haven't overcome me so I constantly feel the need to breed, so for now I just play with the idea of bringing someone home for the night.

It was Todd's party. It was a good party, but my mind was back in Oldham County. I should have stayed with the wedding party, but I felt a little awkward, not knowing many of the guys, but knowing some as well. It's a strange combination.

I have written a novella. I am making myself stop. I came home, alone, last night. Katie wanted to stay the night, but I just couldn't deal with her, she was drunk and I don't deal with that well. Plus I don't have to. The impression, besides the people, that impressed me the most was as I was driving back to Oldham county (Andy helped me move some stuff to the storage area and I went home and bathed), and Nate was next to me (PU there's a dead animal) you could smell how different the air in the country is, and I had forgotten. Plus, as I was driving along the road, I could smell, taste, hear, see night fall. Flowers closing up, letting off their last bit of scent, dead animals on the road, cow shit, crickets and cicadas chirping, dew, fresh cut grass, lightening bugs emerged, silence fell upon the earth. Just so many sensations in the span of 10 minutes. It was so amazing, and for that I am most grateful. I hope I never forget that sensation again because it is one that pleases me.

Monday, May 18, 1998

I have never felt so totally empty and raw. I swear I hate how erratic my moods have been. One minute I am up and the next I am down, and I let people do this to me. I was getting to a point where I thought I could be more accepting of myself and my faults and then I trusted someone and now I feel like my heart is broken.

And to add insult to injury, Priscilla told me that a mutual acquaintance told her I was depressing or full of self pity or something like that and I am just so sick of trying to figure out how to make other people happy.

I know and am fully aware of my faults as a human being. But I also know my strengths, although right now, they feel pretty miniscule. I just can't fucking stand this shit. Why in the hell do people find it necessary to fuck with people when they are down.

Priscilla knew I was feeling bad about myself and then to put icing on the cake, she had to tell me what Todd said about me and "since he's an outside observer, maybe he has a little insight." Fuck him. I am too tired to hate anything anymore and I don't care to be bitter. People are going to be whatever way they want to be and I don't see why it's so necessary for people to be hard on me when I am not the most rational person at this moment in time.

I just want to be trapped in a bubble and figure these things out on my own and come out when I am good and ready. Fuck the world. I don't know how to deal with these emotions, and I know I am an odd combination of maturity and immaturity.

I don't think that I feel so sorry for myself, but I have had a fucking hard life and I would like to see someone else give it a whirl and see how sane they come out.

I am my own worst critic, and I don't need anyone else's shit pertaining to me or how I live my life, I've got enough of my own. I need to buy my ticket and escape... run away from all this hurt. I am starting to revel in it, the pain. I hurt so bad now that it makes me smile and I apparently want more because I do stupid things to bring it on myself. But then I guess being let down is all too part of being human and I let myself down all the time now.

I am evolving into a different butterfly, a new cocoon because I outgrew my last set of wings. I wish I had a better handle of my emotions, me, my life, but I am just doing the best I can to make it through the day without... without what I don't know. I can't keep my thoughts straight and I won't stop crying. Sleep is what I need... for 20 years no, 100. That way a handsome Prince can come kiss me awake.

Now I feel much better. I had majestic sea bass for dinner and I enjoyed the company of one of my favorite people on the planet, Elizabeth MacNabb. We talked about everything going on with each other and consoled each other about our lives. I feel so empowered when I am with her because her lectures are some of the reason I began to feel better about myself as a person, and I think we need more of that.

She encouraged me to go to grad school, she gave me some mothering and love and attention and that's what I need. I need to feel that connection at this point in my life, like I am a part of something great and that there is a reason to all this awareness.

I don't necessarily want to surround myself with people that we mutually have each other's head up our asses, but it's really fucking nice to be around other people that appreciate me for who I am and not what I can do for them or try to make me be something I am not.

So I feel better. Plus when I was crying pretty hard UPS rang and delivered a graduation present from Jan of a candle and bubble bath. So I sat in the bath and cried while engaging in aroma-therapy. I feel better, and I wish my moods weren't so erratic.

I have to return some library books now...overdue, naturally.

Tuesday, May 19, 1998

I'm up at the "butt crack of dawn" as Jenna would say.

God, yesterday was a horrible day, I hate being such a victim to my emotions. Part of it I know is because I am in the process of starting my period. I find that since mom died, the worst I feel emotionally is when I am about to start.

I don't think I can be friends with Priscilla anymore. So, I have known her for about 7 years now, and we used to have fun together, but we were never close. I am sitting here, crying, and she looks over to me and basically hurts me more. I need to start packing, (I have packed away a lot of shit, but I realize there is a lot to be done, and I told her I did), I need to improve my personality and be more full of sunshine.

She has bought into that societal bullshit and I just can't. A girl in one of Jenna and my art class that we chanced upon at Alameda last night, Leann, I asked her if she thought of me as a depressive person and she replied, "no, but I will say you can be dark, but your mom died."

Then I talked with Dana on the phone. She laughed at me and said "Cathy, you are a realist." OK... I am willing to accept that most of all because... Don, my photography professor was so impressed with some of the concepts I have he once told me "You deal so much with reality that it's like you are dancing on a volcano." I will never forget these words as long as I live. The volcano is inside of me.

OK, so I talked with Zack and told him what happened and he was basically like "she's go room to talk. Cathy, don't listen to her. She's fucked up." And then I was like, well... I feel sorry for her. His new project is reading people's star charts. I gave him my details and he was so excited about some of the stuff he found. I am I think a double Gemini, with Aquarius as my moon sign and Taurus as my rising or sun sign (I figured that because I am so fucking stubborn). So he told me that basically once I make up my mind, it' hard to change it, that I try not to force my opinion on to other people (gentle persuasion never hurt), and that 5 planets are all intertwined to basically cause me to be a complicated, conflicting mess.

And that Neptune was in my eighth house and that represents death. Which in turn represents ESP. That is something I don't like to talk about because people think you are full of shit when you say you are this way. I try to deny it, and hope it will go away... but sometimes, it's so overpowering.

Like I understand Priscilla is really jealous of me. I understand why she is that way and she is trying to cover up her inadequacies by going for guys I want. When we went Salsa dancing, and the I was hitting on this Cuban, she tried to hit on him as well, and she fucking knew I was into him! Then at the party the other night, there was this beautiful man that, like Priscilla, is also half Korean, and I was hitting on him and then she started to! I asked her yesterday who she was into and she said him and I was just like "fuck you" (of coarse, being a genteel Southern lady I said no such thing, but I thought it!).

So, having this "gift" of understanding people fucking sucks because I can see her and write off her behavior as jealousy, plain and simple. Plus she has no self-esteem and what ever. This is why she berated me yesterday. So does me knowing all this make me feel any better towards her? Not really. Although I can "read" her feelings and understand her better, that still does not excuse her behavior.

I hate admitting this to people because they think you are just so full of shit. I am so sensitive to people and their feelings now that sometimes I can't leave the house because I pick up their feelings. Part of it also comes from being in the home of an alcoholic.

I couldn't read Andy, and that was a god send. Some people are harder to read then others and this is why I think I chose my friends so carefully. Zack is damn near impossible, as is Melissa. I can read Anne and my father like an open book, but that's because I had to with Dad and I was raised with Anne.

Then there are people like Tanya and Jenna that just evade who they are in everything they do. It's like their personality is seeping from every movement and words. Melissa is the same way, but she is more reserved. Roman was like this as well. He was the first guy I met like this and when I saw it in him, it was rather startling. But then I suppose this is what people define as sensuality.

I wish I could bottle Jenna up and take part of her with me all the time. I did not realize how much she effects me in such a good way. When I get over this little hump of thinking, and we can go out together and scare people with our babeness, that's what I am waiting for, but first I have to get over this little speed bump of dealing with mom and coming to terms with her dying.

For those of you that are skeptical to ESP, I will tell you a story. Once upon a time, I was working at Subway (Cathy in the food industry! No WAY! Yes, I must admit... I was a part of the food industry for 3 long months of my life... it was tragic!) and I was especially sensitive at the time because I had just tried to kill myself (only once, won't happen again). I was 19, for real, and the woman that co-owned the store came up to terrorize the workers since she had just lost an argument with her husband. I did nothing to this woman, but she was standing there seething hatred and anger in my direction. I looked at her and saw her for who she was. (Anger is the most fucked up emotion and should be guarded well because when you release that kind of energy on to someone...).

I laid in bed that night, seeing images of her as a child, happy, playing on a farm. Then I saw someone calling her Jo Jo (her name was Joanne) and I saw some other image and then I saw that she had found a lump in her breast and she wasn't doing anything about it.

So what did I do? Why should I live with these fucking images for the rest of my life? I fucking told her and she shit a brick. When I told her about the nick name, she told me that her grandfather had called her that and when I told her about the farm, her face lit up at the memory. Her amazement lives with me today and when I told her about the lump she just comforted me and told me it was untrue, but I knew differently.

Needless to say, I do not work with the public for a reason because I am so sensitive to bad emotions. And I try to find jobs where people aren't so easy to read because it makes my life easier. You can believe me or you can shove it up your ass. It scares me and I don't particularly care for it but I do in the same token, it's just a part of me that I have been coming to grips with and trying to understand it.

This is also why I like going to Russia because I don't understand and can't feel their feelings totally. Although the more I learn about the language, the harder it is to ignore some of the stuff I pick up.

Wednesday, May 20, 1998

DAN AND I HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY!!! I fucking freaked out because I was thinking the other day I had never met anybody else that shared my birthday, and my boss that is so cool, the only one I have ever gotten along with has it! It was too strange...

It's weird that I am gaining a sense of accomplishment. Amazing what finishing small little projects can do. Katie was right. I have been packing, slowly. And I put over 50 rolls of film in negative sleeves. A job I have been putting off for a little over a year (looking at the negatives).

I feel like I am slowly getting my shit together and life is falling into place. Here is something I have wanted to put here for a while:

Maybe I shouldn't put these two images together but... I suppose it demonstrates a point. Look how stiff my parents are in front of the camera (not to mention how exquisitally beautiful my mom was and my dad well...). I do not want this. I want to be loose and free with the man I am with, and the older I get, the more I hold out in the hopes that there is that one person that is oh so perfect for the simple reason that I am becoming the man I wanted to marry.

All the qualities I find in myself are what are supposedly admirable in men, and you would think they wouldn't be intimidated by this reflection, but since we still live in such a mysogynistic society, then of coarse these qualities aren't accepted. So that means that a hell of a man exists for me somewhere. He has to, I can't give up hope.

I will update this later. I am sleepy and I am not thinking straight.

I got a message for the first time yesterday from someone else that has had brain surgery! She pointed me to look at this one place and I have been reading all kinds of information.

I think (DUR!) that the reason I have such a strong sense of smell is that cyst. I think it's sitting around my olfactory nerve. Cool. It's so weird, now that I don't have all that energy focused on mom, I can start to grieve for me. But I don't really want to. I want to have some fun.

Some people take this brain surgery thing way too seriously...

Thursday, May 21, 1998

So after meeting this one woman on line, I was able to meet the original woman that started all this brain stuff. I just got off the phone with her. She was left with some brain injury, which saddens me, from her operation.

Talking to her was like talking (with you Tanya!) to myself. I could run ideas off of her and we created this dialog that I don't find with many people. Melissa, Jenna, Haddy and Tanya. (sorry, it's a girl thing). It's so easy with her. She gave me a lot of insight about people that have something wrong with their brains.

I hope I can remember most of what we said. People that have had this happen to them are flaky (I know I can be at times, but I try really hard to fight that part of myself) and unreliable (I thought that just came from being a photographer). We talked about family and just so much stuff, so much stuff. I am so lucky that I finished college. So lucky. I didn't realize how other people suffered with this problem.

The main thing I now understand that makes me feel extra special is that she said a lot of people that have been operated on get stronger ESP. We talked about our energy levels and how hard it is to sleep and regulate them. This must be when I feel like I am overwhelming people and myself with my personality comes into play. I feel so light hearted and free! You don't know what it's like to know you are a freak and then all of a sudden, you find that there is this whole society that exists of people just like you!

Which in a way, is a scary thing. My mom didn't understand me, and in a way I wish I could have met other people like this when she was alive so she could see that I am not so different from other people that have been through the same thing.

One of the first things out of her mouth was "well, its not cancer." Only now have I come to realize that she was being sarcastic. The support groups that are for brain tumor survivors have been awful to people that don't have cancer. And then she went on to say that "Oh, it's just a cyst" and at first I was like, fuck you, my mom just died, it's not like I don't know what cancer is like, but I now realize that was her way of being funny, and she is very fucking funny, to me anyway.

The funny thing is, we all know that anyone that has anything wrong with their brain, it has the potential to turn into cancer at any given point, so it's not like that is not a concern.

My house smells like cat pee, god dammit.

So I told her I was coming to Boston, which is where she lives, and it turns out there is a little gathering of people my age at a place called Star Island in New Hampshire. So I think I will spend a day there. It's going to be weird to see how the hierarchy of the brain tumor survivors plays out. The people that have brain damage will be in one category, the people with cancer will be in another, and the people that are relatively unaffected (ha ha) will be together. God, I would hate to be her, she is the center of all this mess and it's hard for her to remember short term stuff.

I feel so special now. She told me she loved me when we hung up and I wanted to say the same (I did tell her I love her, I am so overwhelmed with emotion right now!), but I am always afraid to express that strong of an emotion when I talk to people like that because I fucking mean it. And I think love should be given freely. If you can put out love, then it always comes back to you.

Speaking of love, I went out to Sparks with Jenna and George last evening. I couldn't fall asleep until 6, I had to go buy White Castles because I was so hungry. Then right as I am dozing off, someone calls around 7 and I rush to get the phone and they hang up, which pisses me off. Sam called around 10 and I answered the phone and we just took off from there. It's noon now. I am butt-fucking tired, but I am refreshed at the same time. As I was talking with her, our minds were racing a mile a minute and it was so weird to meet someone else that can go the transitions I go. Haddy does it well.

I went to Melissa's after work an we just sat and talked and talked. I knew it was time to go when we started talking about Medea and Macbeth. There is so much I need to catch back up on, and Shakespeare is one of them. I finally understand how important he was.

Oh I have a thousand questions for Sam! Are people like us more sensitive? Blah blah blah (can't keep up with my own thoughts)...

I sign off with something she told me. Leonardo Di Vinci thought that people's soul rested in between their optic nerves. That would be your pituitary gland. Right now, mine is smushed into the size of jelly bean (it should be round and perfect), so I have that deep thought to think of all day. My soul is like a jelly bean (I really need a banjo)...

Friday, May 22, 1998

I go up and then I go down. I didn't have enough sleep the other night and that has messed up my schedule. Plus bleeding profusely isn't helping much.

You can't imagine my delight in meeting Sam. I understand myself better through what little contact I have had with her. I understand her moods when I have talked with her because I know those moods in myself. Plus she has ESP too, so I don't feel like a big freak when I talk to her about it and when she is trying to explain something to me that she can't articulate, I can say "I understand what you mean" and I do. I can't tell you what it's like.

I asked her if she has problems making friends and she does. She told me that she has problems with the intensity factor, and that she doesn't do well around people because she has little room for superficiality in her life and I am the same way.

I am sad to admit this because I don't like to think about it or use it as an excuse for anything but I know I have some brain damage, and talking with Sam has made me more aware of mine, but it's still not that bad. She has a few more problems functioning then I do and then she told me that when she is around someone that has a lot of energy, she can feed off that. It's funny because I could tell she was pre-occupied in the last conversation we had but when I talked about other people I could kind of bring her out of it.

I can't tell you how strange it is to meet more then a kindred spirit. She's a couple of years older then me, but we had surgery the same year. She is such an admirable person. She started this Brain Trust organization in 1993 to try and connect the people to the medical community. Because the problem for people like us is now that we have had surgery, now what? There are obviously problems that arise because of this and there is little understanding for the families and the patient.

Part of me is sad now, because my mom would say that I "have the gray area of thinking" and that used to hurt my feelings a lot because I don't like to think of myself as being that different from other people, but the more I learn, the more aware I become of what problems I am facing, and the more I realize why I am the way I am.

Despite that fact, I am learning and trying to become a well rounded person. I wanted a fish sandwich something fierce last night so I went to O'Shea's and sat with this guy I had a class with 4 years ago. It was pleasant. At first we were talking about lots of different things and then a girl came by and she was one of those cute little blonde girls. I didn't think we would have much in common, but I started talking about Russia and stuff and then, after about a half an hour, we clicked. It was rather difficult.

I pride myself on getting people to talk about experiences they have had so I can relate it to my own experiences. Usually, it takes no time for me to get people to open up and when they do, it is so much fun hearing about their lives, if they are interesting in the least little bit. It's more then walking a mile in their shoes, it's more like living a part of their memories.

I told Dr. Bergandi about having ESP yesterday. He was excited and wanted to know what I read off of him, which made me crack up. It's been very hard for me to come to terms with this "gift" and I suppose the reason is because the first person I could read was my dad and he wasn't a good person and he had a lot of problems that he took out on us. So part of me has been afraid of this ability because the first time was such an awful experience which was then compounded by abuse.

Anne is reading about this syndrome that we all suffer from where one parent turns the children against the other. She tried to put a lot of it off on to mom, but then I said to her that Dad did some pretty fucked up things too. Tee apparently still talks about mom to Anne like she is shit, and part of this (ESP coming in) is because he had to make himself feel better about dumping my mom. He had to trash and belittle her to pump himself up and tell himself he was doing the right thing by divorcing her. With him, I can see all the conflicting levels, which in turn cause me not to be at peace.

Dr. Bergandi asked me how do you sense these things about people and I told him I couldn't articulate it. And he told me that was fine, that I don't really have to, but it so interesting. It's like when I get people to open up about themselves, I can see and feel some of what they experienced. The only people that I have a really difficult time being around are victims of sexual child abuse. It hurts so bad, it hurts me to be close to them because that one event dictates how they treat other people and live their life. Most people have a series of experiences so they can find a balance between the shit that goes on in their lives.

But victims of sexual abuse can't break away from that incident. The ones that block it away, I can handle them because they have made other experiences in their lives, but the ones that remember from the start, it's really hard for me to be close to them because I can still feel the hurt, and part of that is because I can associate my own experience with being abused as a child. It's all very strange and I still have to think about this more so I can better articulate what I mean, but for now, I think I will take a nap. It has been a stressful day because I am trying to buy my plane tickets to Europe and I don't think I will get a better fare then $1000. Sigh. I am running about 2 months behind on everything I do, but I am catching up!

Saturday, May 23, 1998

Yesterday was a weird day. It's weird for me to start to understand myself better, and scary as well.

I got a check in the mail from a credit card mom and I "shared" and when it came, it was made out to her. I tried really hard not be be angry, but I was really hurt that they fucked up because they sent me a sympathy card. I called them up and was like:

"Do you have my credit information?" (because you had to punch in your number.)

"Yes Mam."

"Do you show that you sent me a check for x amount?"

"Yes, we sure do."

"Well it's made out to my mother, and she's dead." very controlled anger... deep breaths...

"(silence)...Oh... can you hold on for a second?"

Needless to say, a new check was issued in my name. I am rather proud of myself, I didn't go totally ballistic. Then I sat on the phone for a few hours talking with travel agents. Going to Bermuda on the 6th of September with Melissa. Tried to buy a ticket to Europe (running behind by two months here) on the 15th, which is the last day of the "sale." After that, ticket go up $150. God dammit. Deep breaths...

Calm... must learn to be calm. Andy took me out to dinner. We went to where Jenna works, Indigo. I wasn't that impressed, but I won't tell her that. It's one of those restaurants where you eat the food and still have room for dessert, and unless I'm PMSing, I can't stand fru fru dinners that don't have a lot of substance and you have room for dessert. Although I suppose that is logical... for the restaurant I mean.

I told Andy about Sam and how I am starting to understand myself more and he was happy for me. I need to call Mary, the chick in Atlanta that also had an arachnoid cyst.

I signed off the brain tumor list. It was too depressing. All these people that have cancer, I'm over that now. It was giving me nightmares too, so... Shudder.

I want to go see Fear and Loathing... but I think I want to sneak in because I don't want that fucking piece of shit, Hunter S. Thompson, getting any of my money. When he and Johnny Depp were in town, I had the "honor" of sitting at a table next to his at the Bristol and let me tell you, he's just disgusting. He's all up in that bullshit about being better then other Kenfuckians and about doing drugs, and you know, fuck that. I am not in to pretension or superficiality so it's hard for me to like someone that is superficial and pretentious.

Johnny Depp on the other hand is a really nice guy, and he has nice energy. I talked with him about moving out to L.A. (that was a year and a half ago) and he told me that "you can do whatever you want." (he came to the Bristol and they wouldn't serve him because the kitchen was closed, this was way after he autographed my boob).

Which was strange for me because the two weeks before that I had come to the realization that I make what ever I want to happen happen. And if I am not too sure about something, then it won't happen. I don't think enough people realize that you rule your life, your life doesn't rule you. Anyways... not everyone can be like this or then the world would change in massive leaps and bounds and that would be progress.

Anyways... I have stuff to move... papers to write... Colin to babysit. Why do I do this to myself on purpose? Is being overwhelmed just part of my make-up?

Oh... here's a photo taken by Lesli at her house.

Sunday, May 24, 1998

I am hot and sticky. Not from anything exciting, just from moving. I realized that I needed to get more shit out of here, so Andy's been helping me move stuff. I fucking hate moving... and I like it to. Moving on with my life...

I got an interesting e-mail today from a brain tumor survivor. He says that he hopes I get over my anger because he found it to be a waste of energy. Anyone that reads this diary should figure that I am not always fucked up. And some of the things I write are just matters of fact, such as the man that helped create me is just a sperm donor. He has had nothing to do with my formal development, or my emotional well being, therefore, he is a sperm donor. If he took on his responsibilities as a parent, then I would call him my father, but until that day (which I predict hell freezing over sooner) he is just a man that. There is a rage that goes with that, it's not anger. Part of me has let a lot of shit go and is ready to move on, but that little girl inside will never accept the hurt and pain he has caused me.

So that rage is what drives me as a woman to try to become a well rounded person, highly developed, emotional stable (ha), and what have you so I can be like "neener neener... I am a better person then you!" to my father. And trust me, it doesn't take a lot to be a better person then him. I think my cat is a better candidate at that. On that note, I will not get all philosophical because, quite frankly, I don't understand philosophy, too many abstracts.

With that being said... I guess I don't need to try so hard anymore. But now I challenge myself to be better because the competition ceases to be worth my time. Roman made me want to be a better person. I enjoyed his company, and when he left, he said I made him want to be a better person to me (I never told him, I don't think... I can't remember).

But then again, I like competing with myself. I feel like the harder I push myself, the more I change and grow and it's strange to listen to other girls my age because I can see how far I have come in my thinking because they talk about trivial matters that concern people that have no experience. I envy that in a way, but I also abhor it. I hated my mom for not experiencing Germany when she was there. She lived on a base with my father and did the American thing, never tried to go outside her own bubble.

Now I am babbling. Ah, but the more I babble, the less work I have to do, and I am tired. What else... I do things, such as procrastinate, to make me push myself harder. Granted the end results aren't always perfect, but they are better then average.

My walls are empty! My house is a disaster area. If I can get most of this done today, I will be very happy, so I am stopping.

Monday, May 25, 1998

Accomplish what? I feel like I can't even move... I am moving in a direction that I am not sure I am willing to take, but my decision to now act like a spoiled child is packed up in a storage shed like all the memories of my life. Amazing how it can all fit into one, self contained area the size of my kitchen.

So I was driving on the interstate the other night, thinking about fears and such. There is one stretch of road I try never to drive on and that is because when I was a child, my mom was driving a car with bald tires and we hit the rock (for those of you familiar with Kentucky, that would be when 71 and 64 or 65 split into two different interstates) wall. I remember flashes of being in the hospital, mom wearing a neck brace, me having a bump on my right forehead, a time before safety belts were a requirement.

I kept driving along, to my sister's house and I came upon another place I had forgotten about. It was here that my mom's car caught fire and some people stopped us to tell us my mom's car was on fire. It was a VW bug, and we escaped.

It's so funny how you forget the minor tragedies in your life when you are faced with something you know will force you to change.

I remember crying that night, because I believed my Barbies had died. And in the most amazing confession, Anne told me that she had been playing with my Barbies and had taken them out of the car before this happened.

It's one of those confessions that you are so mad because she was fucking with my stuff, but so grateful for those things still existing. I was 6 or 7 at the time.

I don't remember how we got back home, or anything after that, but I remember my Barbies. Actually, it was just Barbie and Ken. I was probably sad at first because I wouldn't be able to make them fuck anymore, I had Barbie doing back bends and all kinds of crazy shit to fuck Ken when I was a child. I suppose we all do. That's why Barbies are more fun to play with then GI Joe...

Tuesday, May 26, 1998

I am pretty much packed. I am sad, but excited as well.

I have to take my computer in tonight and I am extremely depressed. I want to cry. Of all the things I possess, I am most attached to my computer, we have been through so much in the past year together. I know it's stupid to have an attachment to an inanimate object, wait... that's a fetish, so if there is a name, then it's not so stupid.

But I feel like my heart is breaking because I am not sure I will like my new computer, even though it's suppose to be better. It very hard for me to switch to a new model when the one I have is pretty good. This can also be said about the relationships I have had in a way.

While this computer isn't the fastest, it's been damn good and new models are hard to get comfortable with.

I told Jenna last night that I try to live my life with no regrets (I have only one, OK... if you count not buying those $100 Clark's clogs in Vermont 4 years ago, that makes two) and she asked if I regretted being with Andy for so long, since I could have met other people and I told her "no." I think there is a time and a place for everything, and I learned so much from being with Andy, so it was a good thing.

I wish my student loans weren't so exorbitant, but fuck it, you only live once. And I enjoyed my college experience for the most part. I thought it would have meant what high school meant for my mom, but I am so different then my mom. I think the best time of my life is the moment in which I am living at that time, no matter how much I hurt, I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful for the friends I cherish, the enemies I have made, the ignorance I try to beat into submission. I just love this wonderful thing called life, and though I make so many mistakes, I am grateful for that experience.

I also discovered that it's hard to recapture certain experiences. When I was in Vermont, I went to eat at a Chinese place with Fisher. Anyways, it was such a good dining experience, that Fisher and I decided to get the clan together and go eat there again. So there we were, Jan, Kristy (the girl on my personal page in front of the railroad tracks), Kristen, Fisher, and me and it was so bad. The service was bad and the food was mediocre the second time around. Oh well. That's when I realized some experiences should only happen once for optimal effectiveness, or it loses it's magic.

I believe in magic, more and more, because I can feel it in myself, and I can see it in other people, even if they can't. Well, Jenna is coming by to take me out of this house. I have been working all day and I am befuddled and confused on this one thing... so I am trying to figure out how to put the table in the table... sigh... I know how to do it, I have done it before, but it's not working! Grrrr...

Wednesday, May 27, 1998

Well well well... now that the fish tanks are gone, that rancid, cat piss smell is too. I suppose I just let the water sit too long in those tanks. I am relieved.

So here you can see two very distinctive me's. One was from when I was a sophomore in High school, and the other I was a junior. My mom hated the one of me when I was a junior, she liked it when I looked all Buffy and shit. I hate that photo, but thanks to Photoshop, I was able to correct the worst parts.

By the time I was a junior, I had Porn Star White fried hair, and I decided I was going to be frightening, but the more I look at that photo, the more I like it. It's not the worst, and who else can say they like their school photos?

When I look at these photos, I think to myself, "Oh, I look so friendly in the one on the right." and the of the one on the left, I think "Yep, there's that don't fuck with me attitude."

So what was the difference between these two times in my life? Well, by the time I was a junior in high school, my mom had been on chemo for a year and I was working a shitty job at the dry cleaners where my mom made me pay for car insurance (I know you are weeping for me) and my brother didn't have to pay for dick. So I was a freak. I felt like a fucking freak at that school, so by god damn, I was going to be a freak. Ah... today I would just look normal.

The funny thing about it is, you don't grow out of it. All my friends, we are the misfits from high school. The ones people made fun of in school so we finally started to realize that people are just full of shit and we can't live our lives worrying about what other people think or say or do. I still like to think I live my life this way to some degree, but even I get hung up every once in a while in what other people think.

As I pack, I see more and more stuff I have been meaning to scan, and I have a big 20 gallon tub filled with photos I have taken over the years. It's interesting seeing them. Here's one of Anne I did back in photo 2:

(Anne made me take down any "indecent" photos of her-Nov. 23, 1998)

That was when she used to pose for me. I found a group of wet photos that were fiber base and perfect prints in the trunk of her car and ever since then I haven't been able to take her photo. I think the relationship that the photographer has with the subject always comes through.

None of the pictures I take of Priscilla ever come out. I couldn't figure out why, but it's because I really don't like her as a person.

I am sleepy now, so I am going to bed.

Thursday, May 28, 1998

Haddy and Ryan are gone. They stayed the night and then left. They are who I am going to see in Boston. Haddy is adorable and I love her so much. I need to start calling her when I have good things to say, she has heard it all.

She and Ryan are moving to England, so hopefully I will get to visit them there. She told me not to make a boo boo face when she left, but I can't help but feel a little boo boo-ey. I took them to Lynn's to eat breakfast and they adored it. Suzanne was there eating with some of her friends and thought it was so neat to meet people off the net.

Had commented on how we took photos at similar angles and I asked if she was surprised, since we have so many other things in common.

Sigh... I have a photo of the two of them, that I need to get together, but... I was not happy the other night because I couldn't find the receipt for my computer and they conveniently lost all the records of my computer. Then I came home and was being bitchy with Andy over the phone, and like a miracle, there was my receipt in the stuff I was going through to pack. I called Andy squealing. He was happy for me.

I am now feeling boo booey and I go like this :( then :/ then :\ and then I think I will see Haddy in a week, so I go like this :>.

Anyways... I am still not done packing, I need to call Lena, and I don't want to take 2 suitcases with me, but it looks like that may have to happen. No it wont, god dammit. OK, one suitcase and a duffel bag... that's a good compromise. Sigh. Now I need to go get a duffel bag.

I had a good thought of the day... but it's gone now and I need to get ready to see Dr. B. Then I'm off to Danville, I think, to pick up my grandfather's truck.

Friday, May 29, 1998

Shit... I have so much to do... Zack arrives tonight, so we are going to another opening that he is involved with, and I am starting to get excited.

I talked on the phone with a guy named Ryan that doesn't want to read my journal because he doesn't want to read what I have to say about me because he can't figure out how I can say what I can about me... Basically he would rather know about me through communication, which sounds nice, but I am skeptical, just because one should always proceed with caution.

Anyway, he was a delight to speak with.

I miss my mommy. I went to Danville last night and picked up Pop's truck and I learned that you can't make dead mom jokes. Oops. Oh well. But I told Granny I was lucky I had her and she said "I'm lucky I have you." And I almost started crying.

I asked her why and she replied with "I can tell you anything."

And we talk do talk about everything. Of coarse she has just a little idea of what kind of pervert I am, but it's just a little idea, and I suppose most people are perverted in their own way.

I don't know why I can't feel like... I can't describe what I am trying to say.

I talked with Jan last night and she said that she identifies so much with me. I appreciate that, but I guess what I mean is it's hard for me to identify with anybody.

Dr. Bergandi asked me if I would get lonesome while I was in Europe and I told him no, but that's because I was neglected as a child and I had to learn to entertain myself, so I know I am good company and I rather enjoy my company, and although it would be nice if I could share some of the stuff with someone I cared about, I almost think it would take away from the experience I would have. I think when you are in a group, you tend to go with the flow more then suit your own agenda, and I just can't do that. I don't agree with people and I would find it difficult to be a typical tourist.

It is nice being in a foreign country with someone that is a native, however. That way, you get to see more of what day to day life is all about, and see how it differs from your own life. But it's also nice being alone because then you have to figure it all out for yourself.

Lesli has a great aunt name Lois. I haven't been to her house in about 15 years, but I went yesterday on my drive home. I stopped in and it was as if time hadn't passed. She was a secretary and now her husband (just5 months shy of 50 years) is dead. It was weird for me to sit there with her and see what it was like just to accept her station in life. I refuse to do that. The thought of everything being calm and wonderful makes me want to puke, although there is a certain solace in that.

I looked around at all the figurines, placed where they were so many years ago. Memories of looking across the field at the farm entered my head, and eating chocolates, which she had a box where she always had them. I don't think I will ever be capable of keeping house in the manner in which these women do, I am too disorganized. There was a chest of drawers like the ones mom gave me, only Lois's are in mint condition. The pattern on the floor, the smell of her house, it was all sad to me in a way because in 15 years, things hadn't changed. It was like stepping back in time.

I am glad for feminism and everything, because women have so many more choices now then they did 20 years ago, but I also see how it's a self-defeating cause. 0 sum game where no one wins because people are so apathetic now.

This house is haunted to me, haunted because of the memories that still linger around the corners of a past that... I do not want to live my life in the past tense, this is what frightens me the most. To lay down and think every night that I had accomplished what I had set out to do instead of overwhelming myself all the time. To die like my mother did, with only high school as her best, favorite memories... what a fright.

Sunday, May 31, 1998

Dutha, dutha, dutha, tomorrow's my birthday.

Dutha, dutha, dutha, I'll be 19 again.

I have a lot to say about that subject, but I will wait until tomorrow, in case people don't ever read this day.

Oh... I had the absolute most fabulous dream last night. I was in some kind of funky place, and Shamu was in one tank, and some sharks were in another. Well, there was this other girl (probably my alter ego) that went swimming with the sharks and she wasn't eaten, she kept punching it's nose and twisting it's body around (I was the one that was hitting the shark in the nose and I could feel myself hitting it's nose and then twisting it, but I was also a spectator). It was attracted to the sunburn on the back of her legs... I guess the shark smelled bar-ba-qued flesh and thought "umm... medium rare."

So she came out of that tank and was all-right (I was watching this from a distance) and then I went swimming with these other "people" and I was in the water when this creature that I knew wasn't human came up behind me and I asked what they were doing down in the main tanks, and we could see people swimming with Shamu (the killer whale) and having fun, like they were at a wave park. Anyway... this creature/guy came up behind me as we were watching all of this from an uper level booth that was also a tank and started seducing me under the water and then I was still me, and we drifted away from the other group of people and went into this place that was like a fire escape or a group of stairs (still underwater) and someone handed this key to "him" through the crack and I took it into my hands then I switched to being him. I told myself that I would see her tomorrow and then I swam off.

I tried to explain to her what I was, but I couldn't. I told her I would be free to roam the park tomorrow and she should meet me in the parking lot. I morphed into this green, jelly like substance, like flubber, and there was this shark like creature that wanted out of the compound, so I turned into a kangaroo and we jumped out of the compound and he took on human form when we got to the dirt and I looked around for me and that's when I woke up and had to pee.

I suppose this is what you can call a "wet dream." ha ha ha.

So Keir, my Australian pen pal called me Friday night to wish me a "non- happy birthday." It made me all giddy like a girl to hear his voice and I was in a so-so mood until I talked with him and I was so surprised to hear his voice, it put me in a much better mood. So, hate to say this, he is probably the Kangaroo in my dream.

If you couldn't guess, Zack was here and I was out and about with him. He had an art opening. He missed his first plane, and I walked around for 45 minutes trying to find him when it dawned on me that he probably missed his plane. Melissa was there with me, I asked her for some $ to call to see if he had called and he did.

So, backing up, I am sad to report I won't be feeling the mystery of the Bermuda triangle. Melissa wanted to go where ever it was cheaper so I let her decide (kind of nice giving up that control for a change) where we were going. So we are headed for the Caribbean in Mid-October. I think we are going to San Juan, Cozumel, some other ports and New Orleans. I am excited. You would think that a baby would be free on a cruise, but they are a bunch of fuckers. Ahhh... anyway... So it's not the triangle. It didn't take a lot of convincing because when I looked through the brochure, there were a bunch of old people playing golf, so I am sure there will be lots of young people on this other cruise line. I do hate that Kathi Lee is getting some of my money, besides from Wal-Mart, but, what can you do?

I think I am more excited about going on Carnival, although the ship looks like some housewife from suburbia decorated the ship.

So, Zack missed his plane and was on the next one. I was here, waiting and Priscilla showed up with her dad to move stuff and I was like "whatever" and her dad didn't even look at me, so I know she had been talking smack about me. What the fuck ever.

So Zack's plane sat on the run way for an hour. He was coming to an opening that was to close at 9 and he got here at 8 something. We rushed to Arts watch and there were so many fucking people there. I was just amazed. I fucking hate these god damn things, they make me nervous and I feel so awkward so I walked around and looked at the art and wasn't terribly impressed. It's an "erotic" show, and I wasn't invited, what the fuck ever. I suppose I could have called earlier and asked... but... eh.

As I laid in bed with Zack at 4 am, we talked about what we saw. He was disappointed in how everything people do here is so "in your face" that you have no room to go back and think of it on your own. I must agree, and although my art has been like that through my college career, I am learning what it is to be more subtle and refined.

I told Zack how I was tired of other people's work because it does look the same over and over and then very few people travel so their stuff stays stagnant. That's the value of travel. You can't afford to, because you are in school, and you can't afford not to, because your work will suffer because you are not open to new and different things. That's a tragedy to me. I would rather travel then have a new car, and although having a car is still a status symbol, my 1984 Cheverlot Citation keeps me moving.

So we are both disillusioned with Louis-a-villains and what their art means. How can you tell someone that their stuff is tired tactfully?

Sigh... so I saw Priscilla's friend, Todd, at this opening. He was trying to successfully avoid me and was on his way through the ocean of people when I finally made it to him and asked him what he said to Priscilla about me. Zack was laughing I know at watching this whole scene because I am so direct and it's not that I want to make other people uncomfortable... Suzanne said I am this way because I have faced my own mortality (tomorrow's subject)... and I also realize that if I want anything bad enough, I will get it.

So I was standing there asking Todd what he said about me and he was lying through his teeth and acted like he had no idea what I was talking about (this is where ESP, insight, and body language all come together in harmony). I was just nodding my head thinking to myself, "you are such fucking liar." Then he said "Oh, I said you were depressed."

Yeah, right. I just smiled at him and said "I'm much better now." I hate when people talk smack about me. There is no reason to it because I am a good person and most of these people can't even begin to compare themselves to me, so what the fuck ever.

After that, my apprehension grew and I just wanted to leave. I can't stand these functions. Especially because I wasn't expecting so many fucking people to be there.

Zack and I left and we were going to meet Melanie at Dedden's at 11:30. I was hungry, but we just came back here and sat around and looked at Gusti's web site. Gusti is going to be Zack's... wife. He lives in Iceland and they have this thing going and it seems nice.

I saw Priscilla's ex at Dedden's and we talked for a while. I am thinking impure thoughts about him and always have. I can feel him like cotton of one of my favorite t-shirts against my skin. He is a good person and it's weird... he had a brain trauma when he was a child and I never asked him about his ESP before, I just said "when did you know you had ESP?" out of the blue. And he was surprised I said anything to him about that and I could tell that about him. You can feel other people that have it.

At least I can because mine is strong. I know it's going to get stronger as time goes on. Lena, my host mother in Russia has it a touch, I can tell because we can communicate so well.

Anyway, I wanted to have impure feelings from him, but he didn't call me. He's suppose to get a group of friends together and help me move the big stuff, and Andy is too, so we will get this all done today. What a pain in the ass.

Yesterday I baby sat Colin. He's such a joy. Although when I was goofing off with him and pretending I was going to eat his leg, I bit down too hard and he started to wail. I felt bad, but there were no marks or anything. I wonder what life would be like if we could walk up to one another and just treat each other like babies. Can you imagine all that baby talk and all those wonderful feelings?

Pure
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