Thursday, September 3, 1998

FUCKING HELL!!!

(there is no way to articulate the misery I have seen the past week)

I can't fucking believe I am on American Soil again (wait, I can feel 10 pounds creeping back on).

Anne's trip to Russia went so smooth... so fucking smooth and then I didn't get to see Andrei before I left because the place where he worked closed down. He was fucked up after that and I don't guess I will see him again. He has my e-mail, but with the way that has been going.

The fucking market crashed, Anne was there... too much at once. I wanted to go insane, and when nothing went wrong... I was beside myself. Then everything went to hell..Granny had to wire me money, every ATM was out of commission, and they were charging me 7 when the real rate was 9... 10 Rubles had been worth a $1.30 and then it was just a dollar. IT was awful to feel the disparity and see it written upon their suffering faces.

And then to come home... The first thing that happened when I walked out of the customs was notice that these cameras and I was being a smart ass and I started poising for them, just fucking around because I was so tired, when they asked me if I had just come from Zurich and I answered yes and they asked me if they talked about there being a plane wreck at all on the plane and I said no.

That's how I found out that Swiss Airlines had an accident, I was such a bitch, they asked me how I felt about it and I was just like "I'm glad it wasn't my plane." Thinking all the while that my mom is going to turn on her satellite TV and watch me on the news tonight, forgetting that she is dead.

I mean what are you suppose to say to such things?

I didn't get to see Andrei again even though I told him he could come with me. He lost his job the other day. IT happened so fast, my head is spinning... What a fucking life...

Friday, September 4, 1998

Eating tender, baby carrots and drinking blue Gatorade (no power aide at the ultra consumer Capitalistic drug store called Wal greens).

I don't know why I make myself suffer by going to Russia. Gabriel, the guy I met in Spain was like "you want to live in a country where you are afraid to drink the water, eat the food, and (something that escapes me)?"

It royally fucking sucked being there for the past week. I couldn't get into my bank account, and all the ATM machines were out of money so I had to have my Granny Western Union me money. Anne didn't want to give Roman hardly any money for being her personal tour guide for the time she was there. I thought I would need him to help me take pictures, or just "protect" me but that was a joke, and I didn't need him to translate for me. I was so fucking glad he was there, though.

Since he is so good looking, Anne couldn't complain about much of anything because he was giving her his attention, and for some reason, it's the Southern way for a woman to mind a man, but around another woman... there were times I just wanted to commit suicide.

Anne said that "you can't hide the ugliness, Cathy." and I was just like, Honey, you don't know what ugliness is, everything can be fucked tomorrow, that's the way Russia is and then there isn't a fucking thing in the world you can do to fix it.

But there is something I never considered before last week and that was I had the option to be there, I chose to be there by my own free will and for the most part, those people are stuck there.

Not that they really understand how Russia and the US are 2 totally different worlds. They know something is not right, but they can't put their finger on it, and since I come from here, and I understand, it's not that easy to articulate why things are so different or harder, it's just that "Russian" way.

I don't know how to feel. I have so much to say, so I think I will be up-dating this journal all day.

Plus I had a little scare with my account. It was closed by the University when I was there and I fucking flipped.

God, there is no way I can keep up today. I think it's going to take me two week to get all that happened in the past week out.

Last night was a very good night

When Zack got home from work, I was ever so slightly inebriated. He asked me when I was going home and I said Sunday and he was disappointed. That made me feel so good, so loved because I have been outside of myself since I left.

Thinking like an American again, what a relief. I don't think so American anymore, but it's nice to slip into something that is so familiar, so womb-like. I don't have to try so hard, it all makes sense, and I understand the slightest intonation. Now that I am here, I think that it would be virtually impossible for someone that didn't speak English to immigrate unless they had ovaries of steal (um.. Tanya).

Zack caught me up on so much. There is this new TV show called the 70s Show And it is one of the funniest shows I have ever see in my life because it's not just a stupid TV show, but like you imagined your parent to really be.

We went out and I forgot my ID and I should have stayed here, because I was going to fall over, but I went back to this bar, LAVA, which had this couch that I fell asleep on. It was a cool club and I just feel so awesome. One of those days I was happy to be alive...

Maybe I should move to Chicago. I don't know if I am going to have my job when I go home, but, I have time to fuck around and I need to work on my papers.

Zack and I are both late bloomers. Both of us have doubled the number of people we have been intimate with in the past year. I think I actually tripled mine, but I started with the lowest even prime number, so...

I think we are also just starting to be comfortable with who we are. None of those stupid anxieties that haunt you as a young-un.

Anne can't stand that I use the word cunt in conversation.

I was so happy to be in the Capitalistic monolith of Wal greens last night. I spent money just because I could. I bought this horrible, ugly green, purple and charcoal nail polish. I put the purple one on now, and I will probably never wear the other again as long as I live. We will see.

God... too much information. How can I give to you an idea of what it means to have a market crash? There is no way to show you, I don't think it can be done because writing about it and feeling the misery are 2 totally different things.

There is no proper way to describe it, but just imagine what it would be like if all of a sudden, all the money you had in the bank was lowered 3 percent then 10 then 30 in the matter of a week. I would flip.

Monday, September 7, 1998

Yesterday was my grandfather's birthday. He is now 75. He feels guilty that he outlived his daughter, and he also suffers survivor guilt because he had cancer too.

So many things... Saturday shopping with Zack, we together blew about $500. The thing about returning from Russia is that you are the ultra-capitalist, you need to spend in order to catch up with all the people that were spending while you were gone. I didn't need a god damn thing, I just wanted to spend money to feel things around me.

It's really quite sad, when you think about it. Americans surround themselves with things to make themselves feel better about living.

We sat around and watched Wag the Dog and Jackie Brown. The were both good films, but I believe Wag the Dog was a little too much. Not that I don't believe that could happen, I just don't think Americans can band together in such a manner so swiftly.

I have run and run so swiftly in just one day. I have seen all the people in my family I care to see: Nate, Noah, Granny, Pop, Lesli, Doug, Andy, Anne, Melissa and Colin. I was ecstatic that Colin didn't forget who I am. He's such a great baby.

I still feel like I am in that fighter mode, and plus I am naturally on the defense since I am back at home. I wish things could be easier, but that would mean I would have to say something and Melissa and I talked about this and she was like "Just stay away from things that don't involve you."

My brother tried to tell my grandparents he had the power to cut my ATM card from working while I was in Russia because I charged some calls to his phone.

He is a total fucking nut.

I had so many thoughts and images to share, but now they have escaped me. I forgot to mention I visited my mom's grave as well. All I could think of was Keir crossing the street in Amsterdam saying "Blah blah blah, well, the bacteria in your body start to eat you blah blah blah." Information I could have been blissfully ignorant of for the rest of my life. I hear his words and I can see him now as I think about it. A lingering memory I wish I could forget, but blazoned upon my memory like the day my mother died.

I don't see how on Earth people can forget or act like they forget so many events of the past. I rarely forget anything, and if I am led down a path of memories, I start remembering them as vividly as they happened yesterday. It's not that I don't have enough new experience so I can forget, it's just that my memory serves me correctly. Naturally, I see things from my point of view, but I suppose that is pretty much incidental.

I had Anne drive me to the lake house last night. We would spend summers there. I can't tell you how sweet it was to fill my lungs with the fresh, dewy atmosphere that is Kentucky. Such an earthy smell. Anne says it is from the clover.

Jet Skis, water skiing, fishing, playing cards, alcohol, parties, smoking, talking about sex, doing snuff... all kinds of memories. Strange it is to think of such things and now I am not accepted into that side of the family because my dad isn't.

What to say to him? I think I will let him approach me. I need to get a place to live. Shit, I don't know if I have a job tomorrow. I suppose I will find out. I suppose if I don't, I will have to subjugate myself into the poor life of a substitute teacher. Shiver. I hate that. I have done it one too many times. The last time, I worked in the west end where children are abused and there was this little girl, I see her face now, that had been sexual, mentally, anyway abused you can imagine and she was just the meanest little thing. I gave her just a little attention and it was amazing how she transformed. I left that day, after my "aide" spanked this little boy and cried and cried. I didn't want to ever do this again.

Maybe I can get a job with Andy, I don't know. I just don't want to be here too terribly long. I am going to bed now, I am exhausted.

Tuesday, September 8, 1998

I still have my J-O-B!!! I am so happy. I think I was transferring some of the anxiety I experienced in Russia on to my American life. Sometimes, I am just ever so slightly neurotic.

Everyone was happy to see me. I was happy to see everyone. It's nice working in a place where the people are really cool.

It's also nice having a G3 sitting in my lap right now. I love my new computer. I wasn't sure at first, before I saw it if it was really worth what I spent on it, but now... I can fucking launch the god damn space shuttle...

So... I felt like such a stupid girl this morning. "Excuse me, I can't get my license plate off my car, how much will it cost to fix it?" I think I am still in that survivor mode, not totally thinking like an American, nor Russian. I suppose I don't know how my thought patterns have changed. I am glad I do not think like an American, in lieu of Anne's reactions, but I also am not so Russian that I can't see how stupid some of their wives tales are.

Like if you sit on the ground your ovaries will freeze.

There are some other gems as well, but you can figure them out on your own. Now the search for an apartment begins. I have to make 500 phone calls today as well. God this computer kicks my ass.

I walked to work today because I didn't want to spend $6 to park. I almost wish I could kick Andy out of that house, but I just kind of left my landlord (fully paid). I don't think I was thinking very clearly when I left and one of the reasons I keep this journal is to see how much I have changed in thinking. Also so you can see that it's fine to think that way and of coarse when something that traumatic happens to you, you can't expect to be so normal.

God, how weird. I can't believe that I don't have classes. I see all these people and it's just like "ha ha!" Yeah, I know, I still have 2 papers to write, and some library books to return.

They have a lot of work for me to be doing here as well. God, you have no clue how good it feels to be wanted. Sad that I feel more wanted by work then by half the members of my own family.

I mean I didn't even get a little crack of a smile from my mom when I told her about my summer... (ha ha ha)

Anyways... Yeah!!! I am so happy!!!

Wednesday, September 9, 1998

Um so... yeah. I called Liuda today and she said that the ruble is now 20 to the dollar. When I got there, it was barely 7. I don't know how in the hell they were able to make it last that long. So that means it's lost 3 times its value. Wow. I can say that I am glad I am not in Russia and really mean it.

And I am not too sure that I wish to return next year. It was just a little too much for me to deal with. These past two weeks have been just a total roller coaster.

My favorite professor is leaving for Virginia, and she isn't taking her son. I have a job. I looked at an apartment today that is bigger then Andy's house and $5 cheaper.

I think I am just overwhelmed about everything lately, and I really haven't had enough time to myself to evaluate it all. The place that I looked at is in St. James court. That's the historic district of Louisville. It was the first street to be lit electrically in the US. Edison used to live there. The landlady's husband just died at the end of August. I can almost see myself living a similar life to her... Her mother died when she was 28 then her father and a group of people that she cared about and now that she is 41, her husband.

Maybe I shouldn't be terribly careful. I think we all fight so hard not to be alone that when we are alone, it's like we can't stand ourselves because we don't have someone that is with us telling us about our wonderful qualities. Although if you are with a jerk, then you can them make you more paranoid about things you never thought of.

Anne was with this royal asshole for 8 months. He was just saying all kinds of shit to her about how she looked and dressed and I think I would go nuts. I know that I also exhibit those qualities though. When I was with Andy I would pick out his clothes and stuff like that, but that was usually because he didn't match when we would go out in public.

I also feel that when you pick a certain person to be with, you are essentially saying that this is how I see myself. I believe in that Jungian bullshit.

When my mom put on the slightest weight, my dad dumped her because she no longer fit what he saw in himself, but I can not for the life in me figure out what in the hell she ever saw in that cruel bastard. He was not a catch as a young man. I would have ran, screaming if I was approached by a man like that, but at the same time, there are aspects of his character that I look for in the person I am with.

I like vanity in men to a certain point, if it is warranted. If Andrei were over here, he would have been considered a fag because he was so pretty and "normal" men don't care to look for that. But there really isn't much of a happy medium when it comes to American guys. They are either really vain or could care less.

I came back to Louisville and I am staying with Andy for now. He has lived in the house we first lived in when we moved away from my mom's apartment. There are tufts of cat hair laying on the ground because he is too "lazy" to care about such things. That drives me up a fucking wall.

My dad never really showed us how to clean, he just thought we knew how. As a child I felt like the reason of my existence was to do dishes, mop the floor, vacuum, just common bullshit. It would have helped if my dad had tried to make us feel comfortable when we were doing it instead of his brigade of men.

Now that I am an adult and I know how to clean and other bullshit, I don't like things to be disgusting. I can stand disorder, but filth is just inexcusable. And I notice that every time I come back from Russia, I am more neurotic about cleanliness and germs.

Jan told me she figured out why they came up with the phrase Cleanliness is next to Godliness when she was in Russia. I understood what she meant but it would be hard to translate.

I know there is a certain order to things over here and when it doesn't look right or smell right, I can't stand it. I was really put off by Andy's inattentiveness. That's something else that says a lot about you, the manner in which you keep your house. If you leave it empty and lifeless, that's such an indication of your personality.

I don't know... now I sound so full of shit. I am going to quit now. I would think that most people can see such things, but maybe they can't. I would like to think that everyone had the ability to see things as I see them... like looking through a prism, and trying to appreciate the beauty of every shape and color, but even I can't always look through a prism.

Liuda told me not to worry about her. I can't help but worry about her because as long as I know the difference of how I live verses how she lives, I can never feel sorry for myself because she has it much worse then me and she is usually happy and a joy to be around.

Sigh... I have to go to my sister's tonight to sign paperwork. What a bitch. I am going to have to tell her that we are going to have to put the personal side of ourselves aside and look at each other business. I don't enjoy getting fucked by my family, I am not into incest, so she is just going to have to separate her feelings about this matter.

I talked with Melissa about how I felt about her hitting my grandparents up for money to help her raise her kids and she said it wasn't any of my business, and she's right, but I would like my grandparents to live for a long time. Fuck this is hard, and it really fucking sucks too. Sigh...

You know, I felt more missed here at work then I did from some of the members of my family. Strange. I would never trade that moment Dan gave me a big hug because I never think so much of inciting such reactions in people I know just a little. But then, this is pretty much the best job I have ever had and we do feel like a big, happy, disfucktional family. I call Tony Daddy now. He calls me Lolita and if you could see Tony, I think as long as you are Politically Incorrect, you could see the humor of me calling him Daddy and some of the... things he says back to me.

OK. I am done for today. I don't even think I said anything I set off to say. It's a really strange time for me right now. I feel very disjointed and I have to assimilate again.

Thursday, September 10, 1998

All was well last night at my sister's. No one was particularly pissed or bitchy. We had had a fight when I was in Russia about the way things were getting done and it was not pleasant. I go up and down. They thought I was going to come back and move in with them, but I need my own place. I just can't make that 30 minute drive everyday, time is too precious, and I can't sacrifice my own personal freedom.

Plus it's getting to be really difficult for me to ask anybody for anything. I am much too independent. Sometimes, I wish I could just let it vanish, but there is no way. Besides, I don't think it is a bad thing. Only when I really come to depend on someone and they let me down does it bother me. I suppose I will call Jenna and let her make up with me. She's fun to be around anyway and I know she will feel guilty enough to help me move into my new place.

Or at least I think I have a new place because the realtor called. I have so much shit to do, so I am going to go bust my ass right now and write about it all later.

Just when I start feeling a little at ease... I got a letter from Roman.

Katechka, Hi

I moved to Volzsky, to my parents house, that's why it took so long to get to computer and read your message. It's such a mess here, you can't imagine... Sorry, you CAN... You know all about us already...

So well... I'm at Sveta the 2 place now. Dollar is 20 roubles now, people are bying everything they can at our shops in order to save food for future and you can hardly by a piece of bread here!

Katechka! If you have that envelope, you should open it and find two other envelopes enclosed... All you have to do is to mail them through ordinary post mail I'll tell you later WHEN...

About Andrei... If he wasn't ready to say a definite yes or no - it's his own fault. But at the same time, I don't blame him at all. It's so hard to make any decision at this time now in Russia... It's now a big big black hole in everything. In politics, economy, jobs and human minds as well. I just want to hide somewhere deep inside nowhere, and it's me - always cheerful and energetic and experienced Russian... so what to say about normal people?

>I miss Russia, and I don't, already. Liuda stayed up all night, I feel
>bad about that, but there was no way I could stay awake.

There is nothing to miss right now. I'm even glad that you had your ticket already and you were out of this mess right in time. Everybody is so pessimistic - no matter rich or poor you are. Actually, I have to be in cheerful mood - I didn't have anything to loose... A lot of people lost almost all their savings - bank system is fucked completely. Government is not working and doesn't do anything to correct situation -can you believe I'm telling you all this shit!

I went to court right in time, by the way, and of course, the army representative didn't appear that day - the meeting was postponed till "better times". But I was interviewed by local TV and I'm starting big support campaign through mass media. My plans are to settle this problem while staying with my parents in Volzsky and after that - to go to S-Petersburg to try something there. The question is when it's gonna be over with the army...

Now we live separately with Sveta - not a good time for close relations... I'm just out of order. She understands it as well. It's eassssie this way.... I'm going for different sport activities now - tennis, busketball, bike, table tennis, it helps me to stay in good mood.

As for the job they wanted to offer me - it's over already - nobody wants to have fun now - no people at restaurants even in spite that place is really nice for Volgograd.

No thoughts, no ideas, no words...

I bet, you could feel my emotions better than somebody else.

Well, sorry I can't express my thoughts clearly, it's a mess in my head

How is Ann? Is she recovered? What's her opinion?

I want to think that all this is just enother kind of task for Russian people to make them stronger....

Let's hope. The Hope Dies Last...

Love,

Roman

I have been thinking about what it means to be an American all night.

There are certain guarantees that my government has made to ensure my (the people's) well being.

I know that I never have to worry about buying food. As my grandfather says "we may not have a lot of money, but there is always food on the table and a warm place to sleep."

If I ever came across hard times, I know that the government has made provisions to see to it that I can be taken care of until I am back on my feet. I pray that will never happen, and I think I have enough money to ensure that I am never that dependent on anyone.

This is one of those things that takes time to articulate. I keep looking at the serenity outside my door, all the happy people and it's weird for me now to catch someone's gaze and keep it because I feel so connected to them. But then the memory of depressed chaos still lingers.

I can't help but feel grateful to everything that is American. Even though I am glad I don't think so American anymore, it's nice to know there is a certain stability, a certain quality of life that I can come home to. I can't imagine that being taken away from me, though when mom died, it kind of was.

I can't imagine what it is like to know it will never get better. I know that hope is all a lot of the people have, and I would hate to take that away from them, but until they start realizing for themselves that only they can help themselves, and they kick the mob's ass so there isn't so much corruption then maybe they can pick themselves up by their knickers.

But I honestly don't think that will happen in my life time.

I wish I could somehow think that it will all work out, that everything will be OK, but I hold very little hope for that country. What a nightmare, I am glad I am out of it.

Friday, September 11, 1998

My boss isn't here today. He was hot dogging on his wife's bike and hurt himself.

I HAVE AN APARTMENT!!!! I am so happy. I found out where I am going to live, some of the places there run for over $600, and that's just way too much. My place is huge, and I feel really uncomfortable talking about this because I don't like people writing to me and telling me how close I live to the cop station or something like that (which is just down the street).

I was going to be more careful about this, but fuck it. If some freak from the Internet want to find me, there is no way I can stop it.

YEAH!!! I have my own place!!! I can run around naked and get a washer and dryer and be happy.

I feel pretty dull today. I took a Xanax because I was sore last night and I just didn't want to wake up today. It wasn't even a full one, just a third of a half and that's itty bitty.

My headaches have gotten worse. That's something I usually don't talk about a lot because usually I try to ignore such things. They have this new migraine medicine that is so wonderful, it makes me feel like I was a teenager, before I learned to live with chronic pain. But the trouble is, once the effect is over, then my head hurts twice as much because the pain really didn't go away, so then I am hurting all over again, only worse.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like not to feel this pain, but then again, I don't think I would have such a sick sense of humor if I felt good all the time, or even felt normal.

J-O-B... A-P-A-R-T-M-E-N-T!!! I would say that it has been a decent week.

Saturday, September 12, 1998

I am just disgusted with myself. I broke one of the mugs that I the Tuesday before mom died. I was so happy, I found it in the trunk of my car and I was ecstatic because I don't have anything like dishes at my apartment yet, and I was fiddling with something and the next thing I know, crash.

I think if I hadn't gone away and lugged so much shit with me around Europe, then I would have saved it and maybe glued it back together, but I just don't give a fuck. It's broken, I don't want to fix it so I pitched it.

Maybe this doesn't sound monumental to you, but to me, it's a great day in my history. Mom saved all kinds of shit for whatever fucking reason. I think one of the reasons she had such a big fucking house was so she could have a place for her to keep her junk.

I'm kind of sick of having stuff. I am not going to go insane and run to Alaska and give up my worldly goods like that freak that died or anything that insane, I suppose I just want to be settled before I really start getting lots of shit.

Besides, I don't see what most of that stuff is necessary for. I don't really need stupid little plates that look like apples, but since my mom gave them to me I can't get rid of them.

I have to get my TV back from Priscilla. I am not happy about this fact nor am I too excited that I need to communicate with her. I could go out and get a new one, but that is totally stupid and besides, my mom gave me the VCR and it used to be her TV so...

The shit she gave to me I am just ever so slightly sentimental about.

I cleaned the windows at my apartment. I just sat and stared and thought about life and stuff out my window. I told my neighbor's boyfriend I could just stare out that window forever and he was like "well, you would never get anything done."

At first I agreed. Now I think "Fuck you. Thinking and processing all the events that have occurred to me in the past 9 months is really all I need to do at this moment in time."

I have to hit the road. I am going to move ever so slowly, taking my time to figure out what shit I want to keep in storage and what I want around me. I feel the need to spend lots of money on towels and stupid shit like that, but I think I will take deep breaths and just take it one day at a time.

I rather enjoy looking out my window on to St. James Court.

Sunday, September 13, 1998

I have not bonded with my new child yet. It seems to be a rather difficult task and I don't know what to do because I am somewhat frustrated.

I walked in the creek today with Nate. I haven't don't that since I was a pre-pubescent tom boy. We found two salamanders. I let him hold the first one and he killed it. I to wouldn't let him hold the second one because it was bigger and I figured it should be given a chance to live.

We were going to try to pick through mom's stuff today, but I had to get some stuff moved into my new place. We, Anne, Nate and me, went to Sam's to buy a bed for me. At first, I was just going to get a double bed, but then I thought that not only was it a little small, but I am a queen, if not in my own house I am. So, we did that.

When we went back to Lesli's, her in-laws were there so picking through mom's stuff seemed like it wasn't such a great idea. Anne started telling me how she had to go turn out her horses and then take Pop's truck back to Danville. This is about 3 hours worth of driving. Then she looked at me and asked "Do you feel guilty?"

And I answered "no." She was really here in Louisville to help me move, but I swear to god, between her and Lesli, I really just don't give a fuck anymore. I hate that she was trying to make me feel guilty and by her pointing it out just makes me think even less of her because she is completely aware of what she is trying to do.

When Andy and I were dating, he saw how Anne and Thomas ganged up on me one day and made me feel like I was three feet tall and then he tried to do it when we got back home and I bitched him out for trying to even use such evil tactics.

Well, now that shit doesn't work, and Lesli is doing exactly what I thought she might try. I ran from her house today. Now that she is basically settled, she isn't going to try to help us out anymore then she has to and I have lost all respect for her.

I really think she thinks I am unaware of what she is doing. She's sick of fucking with all this shit and so am I, but I deserve just as much from my mom's estate as she and Thomas have gotten, and I am not going to be bullied into what she wants done.

I really don't like my family at all. I am sick of their emotional warfare and I wonder now that Anne knows she can't make me feel bad any longer, what new way of abuse she will instill. Isn't this awful to have to anticipate such things?

I know I am horrified. I don't want to have anything to do with them ever again. This is just stupid bullshit that I know I don't have to deal with.

I'm moving and I am not going to deal with this shit anymore.

I am going to start a new life. I am not going to work on making a bunch of new friends so I don't have to feel more strings to Louisville. Except for Melissa and Andy I really have no friends here. Melissa is even willing to move with me to a new location, and maybe that's not the greatest idea, she is my best friend and I know that I can trust her with anything.

I told Anne that when I got back here I felt sad again, and she assumed it was because of Mom, but honestly, it's because of them. I can't understand how or why people don't try to be more human or a better person when they realize that such things as using guilt and subtle manipulation are not good. When I see these things in other people, I pretty much lose respect for them. I try really hard to fight back my own urges to do such things, and for the most part I am successful, I hope.

I am sick of writing about this shit, I am sick of living this shit.

I love my brother in law, Doug. He was being all cool about me "living there" but I am too fucking independent and after Lesli opened my mail, I can't be comfortable around them anymore. He's awesome, and so are the boys, but I just can't deal with not having my own personal space and kitchen and making sure that when I leave something in the bathroom it is there when I come back. Nate explored my stuff when I was away, and that was fine, I knew that was a danger, but I refuse to live in a house where I am constantly on the defensive.

So, I have Netscape installed on my new computer 3 times, and I can't figure out where the fucking icon is to run it. I hate Microsoft. I refuse to use that shit when I think of that Seattle complex and how it belongs in a movie, like The Stepford Wives.

I don't have a TV yet. But I have a bunch of my clothes here, and I set my bed underneath the widow so I can leave it open and just look out my window. It's weird living alone. I need my cat. I need my phone to work. I hoped I would be here this weekend, but I didn't think it would actually happen. Good timing.

My car is dying a very slow, painful death. There is something clacking in the engine. I know soon I may have to get a new car, but I don't think I will. Then that way I will have an excuse not to go out and see my sisters.

My ankle is fucked up. I think the only way to fix it now it to have surgery. Yip-pie. I have been putting this off for 3 years now.

I got most of my photos back and I feel so inadequate. I suppose since I got triple prints it just really hits home when I look at the bad ones and there are more then I care to remember.

My favorite ones are from the Ukraine. God I loved that in retrospect. That was the most fun I had all summer. And I don't understand if I hated Venice so much, why in the hell are the photos I took there so awesome?

I was flipping through them with Andy and I was like, "Oh God, these photos suck (when I let someone else have the camera) but occasionally I was pleased. I will try and trickle them into my site soon. There is one Roman took of me that I just love. The light is showing on my face real bright and there are deep shadows and I think that it shows my personality because for the most part, I am bright, but the shadows are what defines me.

Monday, September 14, 1998

Today is a hormonally unbalanced kind of day.

Dan showed me photos of his son this morning and I was teary and crying. I am crying just thinking about it now.

I did this to myself. Part of the reason I have a migraine that won't go away is because I forgot to take my pill, and when my hormones are whacked, then I just am a blubbering mess.

It's not that I want to be this way, it's just that I forget to take my pills and then I am fucked up. It wouldn't be so bad if I would just forget one or two days, but here lately I have forgotten to take them for a week. DUH. Well, I am not really doing anything to get pregnant now anyways.

I am kind of sad because I don't think I will ever find someone that can... perform like Andrei. But every time I think that the guy I am with is the best in the world and it can't get any better, along comes someone new and they blow my mind all over again. So, I guess I shouldn't think that, plus I suppose I am more into it, and that makes a difference.

Maybe it's just that he was the second really passionate guy I was with and that's why it was so wonderful (well, there are a million reasons but this is probably the main one). Plus he said that stupid shit about me looking like a mermaid and that just made me all gushy inside.

Sometimes, I hate the fact that I am effected like every other woman on the planet when it comes to that crap. I just wish I could find someone else that knows what to say to me like I would know what to say to him, or her. Maybe I am gay. I have talked this over with Zack and he's open to this idea as well. I would be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to a beautiful female, but that's as far as it goes. I haven't really ever dreamt about women or fantasized about them but maybe I should start.

But then again... when I think of two big beefy men touching each other, I just lose all control. I suppose this is what men feel when they think about two women. women... yuck... men... yummmmmmm.... women... dead wood.... 2 men... petrified forest.

So I have a new office. It's more or less a hovel. It's where they dump all the extra computer parts and shit like that. It's fucking freezing. My fingers are cold and so is my nose. I know when my nose gets cold then that's it. I can't warm up. I suppose if I were feeling extra ambitious today I could go outside in the 90 degree weather we are having here in Kenfuckme, but I think I will suffer the cold. So I am going to put another few photos here.

Tuesday, September 15, 1998

I am freaking out. I have to be registered as a student in order to keep my job, but... I am not registered and I have a class I can take, the teacher already approved me, but I have to bring it to the committee of Arts and Sciences.

No problem you say, but... last semester when I was going through all that shit with my satanic ceramics professor I made such a big deal about getting out of here by now that I think they would look at my request and laugh.

"Ha, that BITCH?" Sometimes I really hate standing up for myself because when you do such things, they come back to haunt you. Like I didn't get along with my Russian professor, one of the main reasons I went to Russia, and so I bitched to the head of the department that listened, but didn't do jack shit about it.

Then this year I wanted some travel money they give out to students and because I was such a bitch, and because the secretary of the department sat in one of our classes and overheard Isabella discussing my grade in front of the entire class, I got fucked out of the money. However, this cunt* that dumped me in Paris will more then likely get money to travel next year because she smiles and is pretty and says all the wonderful things. Did I mention that this cunt was suppose to stay in Russia last year for a year? She and her traveling companion that also dumped me in Paris were suppose to be there together, but they beat me back home.

That story is a great one. Cunt changed money over from dollars to francs and she looked up the Parisian hostel on the web and got the address, but somehow neglected to make reservations. If you haven't guessed, Paris is usually crowded in late May, go figure, so we had to catch a cab and find a hotel on the other side of the city. I had to wait an extra day for my Visa so I could get into Russia and they left me there. I don't really blame them for that, but there is more to the story and why I felt dumped.

But first cocksucker* told me to shut up. I let him say it to me once, since he was a hick from bum fuck Kenfuckme and I realized that since this was his first overseas trip, he was probably a little stressed out about leaving home.

The second time he told me to shut up I looked him in the eye and said, "Cocksucker, FUCK OFF"

He did not know what to think or what to do. Cunt didn't want to cause strife so she calmed him down and I let her tend to him because they were going to be stuck together for a year.

I took a nap and when I woke up I asked cunt to go with me to get something to eat. I ate, she didn't and cocksucker sat there and cried. He was realizing that he was giving up his life to do something totally insane. I mean, it's hard enough trying to do what you want in Moscow, who wants to go to Bum Fuck Russia? (I started with Moscow and am trickling my way over to other cities... slow doses.)

So when we came back from the cafe, after cocksucker had a big crying fit, I laid on my bed and gave cunt my phone number in Moscow. I knew she was writing it down wrong, because that's a very American thing to do so you can later say "I didn't call you because I had the wrong number." But after 2 weeks of being in Bum Fuck Russia, she was trying to call me, not realizing that she had purposefully written the number down wrong. She was also trying to cater to cocksucker's needs.

This other genius that was going to Russia thought she would study in Tver, a region just kilometers from Moscow. I asked her over and over again "Why Tver?"

"Because I will learn more pure Russian this way."

I grilled her ass over and over every time I saw her, but she was firm in her resolve. Then she got there. The water was muddy when it came out of the faucet, I think her room mate was almost raped or something equally as horrible, and needless to say, she came home before the semester was over.

To you, the basic person with no knowledge about that way of life, I will tell you right now, Russia is not for pussies. It's hard to live there, no matter what your nationality. There is nothing glamorous or even nice on the basic level, I mean, I was shitting in a hole for god's sake.

But the feeling... it's like standing next to an electric chair as someone else is frying. You are watching them fry, there is nothing you can do but man you can't help watching the blood rush out of their eye sockets. That energy is the biggest rush. But in order to feel that to a greater extent, you have to speak the language and understand the culture.

So, cunt is still here studying and cocksucker has graduated and moved on to greener pastures. Last time I saw them together was right after mom died and they sat there and talked about how much fun they had on their Spring Break and I was dying. He was doing it to be an ass. My Russian class did a card for me when she died and he wanted to give it to me a month later and I was a Nazi cunt bitch to him.

He knew where I lived, he could have dropped it off sooner, but he chose not to. Then he threw the card away. That's what really pisses me off. That was my card and that fucking cocksucker had no business throwing it away.

So now that I have a healthy respect for Isabella, I am going to blow up photos I took in Kiev and take them to her and say, "Card, why I never got a card. Cocksucker threw it away."

Sometimes, I, personally, can be such a cunt.

Well, now that I got that out of my system, I feel much better. I guess I will go turn this fucking slip of paper in to see if I can get into this class. I don't really want to do any work this semester, but my page would improve infinitely if I were to do it so... Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Mope, mope, mope.

God, I feel like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, but I am really a bitch in heat so it can't go too far... ha ha ha...

After that moment of feeling sorry for myself, I decided that I have lived through worse things then petitioning to be let into a class. And after sitting in class today, I realize it's really what I need.

I saw Natasha, a girl from my Russian class. She lives just down the block from me in an old church that her husband bought for her. I have a feeling that if I was feeling bad about being alone, all that is about to change.

I wrote Anne a letter. It was not a kind letter. She tried to make me feel guilty, maybe I already entered this in my journal, I seem to be repeating myself lately. I told her I couldn't deal with her if she was going to be mean to me and bring shit up from our childhood. She also tried to make me feel guilty about helping me move, and I hate my family for this reason alone. It's all about what you do for ME. It can't be something you do just to do. And good deeds done a week ago are already in the past, what are you going to do TODAY. I hate this kind of mentality.

I also spoke with my dad on Sunday. Nothing major, just "can you come out here and make sure your psychotic son doesn't try anything?"

"I'll be here a couple of hours because I have a case in Lexington and then I will try to come."

I met another lawyer last night. Maria, my landlady, her husband that recently passed away was a judge here in Jefferson County, so there are lots of people coming to check on her. Maria introduced me to him and he was "happy to meet you."

And I couldn't resist. "I bet you didn't know someone so ugly could have such a pretty daughter (maybe I am not so pretty to you, but my mom is dead and she thought I was beautiful, and really her opinion mattered on this a little bit more then yours)."

"No, I didn't, but I am glad to know something good came from him."

Blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah... "he's a good lawyer."

"And that's about it. The best lawyer in Louisville, and that's it."

blah blah blah, "Well, I bet your dad could afford to buy you paper (because I put my notes on the back of my hand... I will never lose my hand;)..."

"I don't see why you think that, he won't pay for my college (I wouldn't really care so much about this one, but he told me he would pay for it, GOD DAMMIT), he won't buy me a car..." and the unspoken "What makes you think he would buy me paper?" as I walked out the door.

He was really happy to meet me, I suppose since he has such a low opinion of dad, it was nice to have it affirmed by someone he created. Actually, I don't think there is a person that can say anything about Tee Clay other then "he's a good lawyer."

*names have been change because these people are not important except for this story.

Wednesday, September 16, 1998

Speaking of cunt*, guess who I saw this morning on my bike ride here? It's these little co-wink-i-dinks that I am talking about... ESP baby.

I love my new place. I just fucking stare out the window and solve world problems, human problems and my own I just contemplate, all while hearing the fountain and watching the leaves change colors.

My brother called me last night. He really thinks I am stupid. "well, you need to get Lesli to sign the house over to me." Yeah, in your wet dreams, fucker. He thinks he can actually get a loan when he has:

• Defaulted on his student loans and
  
• Has a case of fraud on his credit report

Let's hear it for geniuses. Anyway, I slammed him back. "Are you going to sell the house?"

"NO" he answered in a pre-pubescent squeak. What a fucking liar. He is trying to get Anne and I to sign over the house so he can turn around and sell it and say "HA HA, I got more money." And you know what, I am not a dumb cunt all the time, and since I do have that little gift, I know exactly what to anticipate from him.

I also slammed him with "You know, that X amount of money is just to pay for the house, that doesn't include the property rights. If you turn around and sell the house, you are going to have to give me and Anne money for that land, because I am sure the people that live there will want it."

And here comes the fastest moving tounge down the stretch... and look at the whopping lie ready to come out. "There is only .8 acres..."

What a crock of shit. That house has roughly 3 acres.

"Well you know that land is worthless."

"I don't give a fuck"

Then here it comes, the battle cry "Well MOM wanted..."

"Um, Thomas, Mom is dead. It doesn't matter what she wanted any longer."

She says it ever so delicately... and the pitch comes... it's out of here... the one indisputable fact he can't argue. And it's good. Cathy hits a home run so the shit spewing mouth can spew no longer.

But he tried to say more shit and I was just like, "what the fuck ever."

So... now we can anticipate that if Anne and I were to sign over the house, that this cock sucking (and I don't mean this as a slam to gay men, I am, after all a cocksucker myself) mother fucking bastard would turn around and sell the house. Along with the gold digging cunt that used to be my best friend. You know, she sits at home with psycho fuck all day. She has found her niche in the system. She was in a car wreck oh so many years ago and she got her chunk of money (over 100 thou.) Well, she was hit again recently (makes you wonder doesn't it?) and has somehow managed to end up on workmen's comp or something like that so she can sit on her annexoric ass all day with psycho pump. I am going to refer to him as psycho pump from now on. First he is psycho because he has threatened my life, and normally I wouldn't care, but he does own a gun, and pump comes from the fact that he is pumping prescriptions into his body everyday.

That started when Anne got cancer and I had brain surgery. Awful way to vie for your mother's attention, to say that Anne really wasn't sick and I didn't know what a headache was. He started pumping prescriptions back then. Anne was hooked on Dilaudid, and was put on Methadone to come off of it. And me, well, I am a sucker for pain, although the occasional Xanax is soothing to more then the soul.

Anyways, what I want to say about pain is, the funny thing about drugs when you live in chronic pain is that they really don't help. You are going to hurt no matter what and when you first get knocked down with the pain and you realize that it's never going to go away, then you quit taking that shit because you know it's not going to help anyway and the tummy ache or whatever other side effect that goes with it just isn't worth it.

Besides, you can learn how endorphins can be your friends, and how you can actually learn to use them. I would rather be on an endorphin high any day. Why right now I feel them pumping away.

Part of the reason is because I am now deficient in essential vitamins and minerals. In other words, I am bleeding like a stuck pig. It even hurts to sit down because I am tender. I hate when that happens.

I miss Andrei. I think I miss the opportunity more then anything about life over here. He would have enjoyed it. I even think he would like looking out my window too. The lawns are well kept and the trees are groomed. You can see people dressed in nice suits, or people jogging or walking their children just outside my window. It almost restores my faith in human kind, especially since it was decimated by the misery I felt from the Russian people.

Well, I also think of it as a lost opportunity for me as well because Russian men aren't supposed to like foreign women, and since the population is 70% women to 30% men... it would have been a nice challenge and he said the sweetest things. Oh well, life goes on. I think I would have been easily frustrated by the communication thing, but I think the sex thing could have compensated for that so that blows that out of the water.

I suppose it's nicer to have someone to think of perfectly in a moment in time in your life where it seemed things were working out then to deal with reality. But I really want that kind of fantasy thing going. I want it to feel magical and special and romantic and just all the things that people are missing out on today because they get stuck in a certain mind frame that this is the way it's suppose to be.

Shudder. Hack. Vomit.

I think I would rather die alone then go back to the ordinary way life should be. That way I can delude myself into thinking that there really is some place where I can exist like this.

Oh fuck. I have to figure out how to do style sheets by tomorrow. Without cheating supposedly. Well, if I knew what I was doing, I don't suppose I would have to cheat, now would I?

I feel bad about signing up for this class because I am going to Dallas next Thursday and on a Cruise the 11th of October.

Melissa and I talked on the phone last night as though we were teenagers. I haven't had a conversation that long in a while. I took a bath and cleaned my house. We are on the deck right under first class, the Empress deck. Deserving since we both feel like we need such treatment. All I said to Melissa was I didn't care where we ended up as long as there was a window. (I think I am really getting into this window thing)

A flood of memories from the first cruise we took overwhelmed me. Sitting on near a bar, drinking Pina Coladas (I naturally broke the souvenir glass), Melissa picking up this guy that was in an Oxy commercial (the one where the box fell on top of the guy). Dancing. Me walking on the beach alone looking for shells. We don't have anything like that here, we just have fossils (how appropriate for this part of the country).

I suppose I always do that. Don't tell customs, but I brought back some sea shells from the Azov and Black seas. I bleached them out, so that shouldn't be such a worry about cooties or anything like that.

I miss my cat, Cootie. I think Sylvester does to. He has adjusted to our new living accommodations rather swiftly. I am dying to get a kitten, because he is such a mother, but Andy said next time I go away, he won't take care of another cat and I believe him, so it's going to be just the two of us.

So, this is it... I feel like my fingers might fall off for writing so much. I saw Eric last night. I was so happy to be near him. (He's the photo on my opening page over censorship). He reminds me of Vlady, only younger. He's such a queen. I love him so much. He's the only person I have had a major falling out with that I missed terribly. I apologized and although we aren't the best of friends, we still love, admire and respect one another.

Wait, that's not it. I had a long, hard, deep talk with my sister last night and we have cleared the air. How do you begin to have a relationship with someone you have known more then 20 years of your life where it was abusive and cultivated abuse constantly? We don't really know how to relate to one another and although I appreciate her coming to Russia to see me, it still doesn't change the fact that when we talk to one another, I feel bad.

When I hear her talk about me from her side... I can be more objective. I can step back and say, this person (even me) did this for that reason or this reason. That's just their way of being human.

But when I brought up how she hurt my feelings she said "I don't make you feel." She is right, but that's such a lame cop-out. When someone says that, they are taking the responsibility of their words and actions and excusing them to whatever's in the wind.

I, however, apologized for hurting her feelings with the letter I wrote to her, and naturally she accepted. She tried to tell me the only person that could judge you was God. Which I think is a crock because you can judge yourself, you don't need to take the responsibility of your actions and dismiss them and hope some whatever forgives you. You are your own God, and if you can't respect that, then what can you respect?

Anyways, so I am at a point where I am trying to learn how to communicate with her, I don't think it's going to work very well. She isn't on the levels I am on and I think I will still be constantly trying to protect myself when we are together.

Wait... this just in:

So how do we communicate. Isn't it odd that we haven't figured it out. I feel bad, today. I feel blue. I wish I knew more about my future, my life, and what is going to happen, but, I guess that is what makes life, life. I hope this is a hormonal rage. UGGG. I hate feeling this way. So what else is new? Have you heard anything of Russia? I'll be here, same bat time, same bat channel.

She's willing to try, so I can't really fault her for that, nor can I expect her to be where I am. She's got a lot of shit to get through, shit I didn't have to deal with, like being used as a way to save a marriage.

I go back and forth on what to wonder all the time. I know that this country is rather stable, but after seeing that horror... I think it might just drive me further away from compliancy. I know that here I can pretty much control everything I do but there, I feel like I am in a hole and that I can jump high enough and peek out into the distance but I have to watch myself much more carefully because even though I can basically do whatever I want... I have to be careful.

I haven't heard from Roman lately, kind of nice not being taken back into that place I would like to forget, at least the last week I was there. I really wanted to believe that it would all work out and that the people would really push forward, but I expected too much. I forget how people get comfortable and don't like to change.

I like to be comfortable to a certain degree, but I also like looking into the future and wondering what path I will take. Sometimes, I take it all way too seriously and when it gets that bad and I am aware of it, I say to myself what Melissa said to me oh so many years ago... there she is, floating in my mom's pool wearing the aqua bikini sipping a wine cooler "Don't take life so seriously, it's only life."

Thursday, September 17, 1998

Today is not a happy camper kind of day. The weather is yucky and I feel like I am the evil sister.

I tried to explain to my older sister in a letter about how mom's estate should be viewed as a business and not so personal, and it should. I also told her I wasn't going to sign over property rights on her land because if she sells it, I want the price of the land. I don't think this is unfair nor do I think I am asking for something that is out of the question.

Well, she is not happy at all. She can't detach from the situation and see it from my point of view. As Roman said, I am the sister running around Europe and she has two kids.

Well, they are not my responsibility. And I didn't choose to have them, either. And if she can't afford to keep her house, then she should sell it. I know life sucks, but she has to learn to take responsibility for her choices. I never gave her money when I was a teen. She always had Granny and Poppa there to help her out because they felt sorry for her because her father left them when she was a baby. Thomas and Anne, however, helped her out here and there.

Anne and I were talking about it last night and by the time mom could raise us, she raised us to be even more independent.

Sigh... my heart goes out to her, and I feel like I am the evil one now, but I have to keep reminding myself that this is business, not personal.

I finally heard from Jenna last night. She told me her boyfriend didn't want her to see me anymore. But that's because she told him I was involved in something I wasn't. So she has to straighten that out. She also told me that when I left I was asking her for more then she could give, which I can see how she could say that, but she is the one that offered to help me move and go with me to the airport. I have this thing where I rarely ask anybody for anything. There have been a few people I have asked something from, but they are few and far between.

Maybe I shouldn't be so... forgiving. Jenna couldn't believe I wanted to talk to her again. She makes me feel good and until this mess is over with my family, then I think I will value her friendshit. Besides, I really try hard to look at things objectively. Everyone has their moments and you just have to overlook them.

Then again I probably will get screwed thinking this way.

I was thinking of bad days in my life the other day and I can just think of two off the top of my head right now.

I think the main one was watching Andrei lose his job and all the anxious suffering faces of the Muscovites. That's a time in my life I don't think I will ever shake. Plus this is so fresh in my mind.

The other time was when I had brain surgery. I hate when people tell me they are going to do something and they don't, and this is pretty much when I decided that friends suck for the most part because when you are really down, like brain surgery down, they don't want to see you.

I was 18 years old, had never really been away from my family. There was always someone around. One of my best friends at the time promised me he come to the hospital one night and he went to a fag bar instead because he just couldn't deal with it. The cunt that is fucking my brother acted like she would be there every minute for me and she had a different boyfriend at the time so they stopped by for a few minutes and I never heard from her again.

That was the one night the play Everyman sunk deep into my consciousness, and I realized no matter what, we all die alone. It didn't matter what anybody thought of me because I was alone. I think this is what my photography teacher means when she said I have faced my own mortality.

They went up through my nose when they did brain surgery so I had all this bloody, infected packing stuck up my nose that smelled so disgusting. Nothing I have ever smelled could beat that smell. I cried and then my nose started running like a fountain, and I just wasn't a pretty site.

I really hate that feeling, I don't think it will ever go away, either. I think it's what keeps me somewhat distant from my friends and something that drives me as well. Life is shorter then we all realize and just when you get comfortable with it, it seems it is taken away.

There was one other night that sucked really bad, but not like the two above. It has to do with living in chronic pain. I had a doctor's appointment. I thought I was going crazy because the neurosurgeons told me that I can't possibly have headaches. So what am I suppose to think, that I am not in pain, that everything was imaginary?

I was so tired and just so sick of being in constant pain that I thought long and hard and I came up with the brilliant idea that I would perform brain surgery on myself, since it seems nobody was listening to me. (This was after the actual surgery).

I went in my mom's bathroom because the mirrors adjusted so I could see the back of my head and I put part of my hair up and then took a razor blade and sliced the back of my head open.

Blood gushed everywhere. The guy that was suppose to come see me in the hospital was there and he rushed me to the emergency room. I don't think my head hurt very much after that, and I wasn't admitted to the hospital for trying to kill myself because I was just trying to get someone to hear me.

I was put on some decent medicine after that and have coped ever since.

I suppose with this little lesson I would like to say that if you have a friend that is suffering or in the hospital with something yucky, just go there and talk to them like they are human. Don't look at them and cry the entire time (like my sister did) or not look at them (I couldn't see myself). There are many more atrocities out there then watching the healing process occur.

Remember that your friend is the one hurting and you are just a witness. If it bothers you to look at them, try and imagine what they are going through. It's a temporary shock to your system where they have to live with it the rest of their life. (plus how would you feel if someone had this kind of sparkling memory of you, just because you couldn't deal with what you saw in them?)

Now if they want you to clean out yucky infected places, then you have more balls then me because I couldn't look at my mom's really yucky places. Gross.

Friday, September 18, 1998

So, I stayed at home most of the day today which is a good thing. I slept and had many strange dreams. I wanted to go to work, but I scheduled Friday's off.

Then I had to go watch Colin for Melissa while she worked tonight. He's a perfect baby. It's so strange to think that things I say and do to him now will affect how he relates to other people later in life.

Like using the suction thingie on his nose. That is an unpleasant experience on both of us, because I know he is going to cry. Then there is the dreaded bath. I know I could almost stand not to give him one because he cried the entire time, and I felt bad for him.

Amazing how sophisticated feelings get to be with adults so they express frustrations by taking them out on other people or something equally as bad.

I almost did a really stupid thing today. My car, as we all know, is dying, and I didn't want to pick Colin up in it because I am afraid, so I stopped at a dealership. It wasn't just any dealership, it had a bug in front. A new one.

So, I am going to get a new bug, but after looking on the Internet, I have decided that I will not pay more then 16,000. Actually I would really like to lease a bug for 2 years, because I really don't know what direction my life is going to take.

I don't know why I want a bug, I suppose because it's cool and has a certain style about it. Besides, I told Roman I wanted one and I promised myself that when I graduated I would get one. I know I haven't technically graduated, but you get the point.

So... I had a talk today with my grandmother, and needless to say she is making it easier for me to leave Kentucky. One of the reasons I was hesitant to leave was because of her and Pop, but now, after the nice guilt trip I got and enough stuff to last several therapy sessions, I think the decision to leave will be much easier. I need to split away from this shit.

I told Melissa that this has been going on "all of a sudden" and she corrected me and told me that I just wasn't going to put up with it any longer, and she's right. My tolerance for anyone's bullshit has diminished into next to nothing. I am kind of glad my mom isn't here anymore to keep me in check.

Granny went on to say shit about how nobody asked her for anything of mom's, and I thought, whatever, Granny. Then she went on to say how she lost a daughter and that nobody knew how it felt but "one day when you have one of your own, you'll understand."

I hate this shit so my initial response is "I'm sorry, but that won't happen. I don't want anybody to have this kind of power over me again." And I don't, until this feeling fades and fades. I haven't really had much time to be a stupid little girl and I think I can have that opportunity, if not the more mature, adult way.

Plus I thought, but would never in a million years say "Fuck you, Granny. How old were you when your mother died? (early sixties) I am just in my twenties and I have the rest of my life to go through without mine."

I know they say that losing your child is the hardest thing, but it's a life process that does happen. They were with her 52 years. I wish people would think more of how lucky we all are to know someone as special and loving for such a chunk of our lives.

I need to talk to my landlady. Her mother died when she was 28 from cancer as well. I can't tell you how I feel for her now. I said earlier that I could see myself being her because I intend to go for safety. I thought if I did take on Andrei, that would be the craziest things I have ever done, but since it didn't work out, then I intend on being oh so careful and choosing someone I can grow old with and has that safety net I am so desperately seeking.

We will see how things work out, but I just don't want to deal with many of the complications I know I can face with this life. I used to think that I would just run around and be wild, but that's just not my thing. There has to be a base and then I can do whatever. I don't mean to be so comfortable, but... I told Melissa I can't deal with this emotional turmoil any longer. I told her I don't know how I have lived this long going through it.

I also realize my mom was psycho. The things she did and said just aren't normal, even though there is no longer a normal in this day and age, at least there is healthy, and her mind was as disease as her body, I am afraid.

I also told Melissa that I can't figure out how I came from this, and how I found a way out. She said she could see the changes in me and that she encouraged them at points, and looking back, I know she is right. We became friends at the perfect time because she helped me figure out more of what it meant to be a woman when I was making that transition, but I couldn't talk to her very much about mom since her mother also has cancer.

OK. I am tired. Tomorrow is Lesli's birthday. Anne got her expensive earrings... I got her a t-shirt in Amsterdam. Sorry, I am a tight cheap skate now.

Besides, "Sounds like someone is being a little greedy" and it's my fucking money and I will spend it how I please.

Sunday, September 20, 1998

Moments in time I wish never to forget... it seems not that mom has died I have so many of them, like I have been released from captivity and allowed to feel comfortable for who and what I am.

Last night I met Joe, my first boyfriend from when I was 15 and his wife. I didn't know he was married or I wouldn't have written such things about him last month because it caused a little problem.

But his wife didn't understand... "I'm Cathy." I kept telling Joe. "You can't really hate me. I'm Cathy."

She is so amazing. Talking with them... one of the first questions he asked was "How does it feel to be sitting here after x amount of years, and how will it feel in x more?"

I told him I was comfortable. He still can't get over the fact that I will talk to him. I told him "we all do stupid things when we are you, it's all a part of growing up." If you can't look back on your life and come to terms with such things, such minor indiscretion, then you are harboring feelings I know aren't healthy. I watched my mom do it and I will be God Dammed if I ever live my life in the manner in which she did.

People hurt one another. It's a fact of life. We don't go out and hunt for food, so there has to be some way to get those primal urges out and that's one of the reasons we attack one another psychologically. I try my damnedest not to hurt other people, but even I am not always successful. I make mistakes too. I just have learned to temper my personality.

God, it was such an AMAZING night. I wish I had more like it and I know many more like it will come. It's comforting to see people I know will be here. I liked going to the Mag Bar, sitting around, talking, and seeing people I know. I know a lot of people here in Louisville. As Joe said "...just one small incestuous community." because everyone knows everybody. I talked about this in May or June before I left. All the freaks know one another.

I shouldn't say freaks... I should say outcasts I think. We don't accept this bullshit society tries to dictate to us so we are not part of the norm. I sat there and listened to Dana Kincaid go on and on about how happy she was now. I think now that those teenage years are gone and we are comfortable with ourselves we can be more comfortable around other people like us. It's nice getting older and seeing what everyone is like.

How often do you get to spend time with people like you? I love being able to look at Dana and think that she has changed so much from when I knew her 10 years ago. She dated Joe too. That cracks me up. I never knew that until last night.

But I think people our age that are the outcasts have genuine tried to learn to be free in such an oppressive culture. I am not sure it's like this everywhere in the states, but all you have to do is turn on your TV or go to some kind of web-site and realize that things aren't right over here. (This pisses me off so much. I am glad I don't have a TV because if I had to hear this shit I would go insane. Who's going to want to be president after this? If it were me, and I was president, I would take the bullshit media and Mr. Starr himself and dump his dead ass in the middle of Moscow to make him grow the fuck up.)

But they can't put their finger on what's wrong. I feel sad for them. I know the social problems we have, it's hard to articulate, and I have been more aware of them since I traveled, but I like to think my generation is really concerned with spirituality, not religion. The people I know, I mean the outcasts. We are not trying to be yuppies so much... We want it all. The money, the fame, the ability to do whatever the fuck we want to do when we want to do it and I think it's happening because those of us that have a clue know we can accomplish whatever the fuck we want as long as we put our mind to it.

God, I feel like a preacher, how appropriate since it's Sunday. Maybe I should have Sunday's reserved for that. Yuck, how annoying.

All in all, it was one of the best nights of my life (and it didn't even involve sex). I love feeling like I am part of something spectacular, even if it was just one night.

Monday, September 21, 1998

Yesterday I got Andy to take me to my sister's horse show. Since my car is dying, I dont' really trust it to go all the way to Lexington. Anne gave us directions, and we were so lost... We were driving around for 5 hours trying to find her. We were lost and drove around about 3 hours and by the time we got to the barn, she had already gone home. So then we went to her place, and when we did that, we got lost.

She was not too happy to see us and when I left I apologized because I really did want to see her jump. She was like "That's the story of my life" instead of just being happy to see me and with that, I know there is not a lot of hope for us to have a good relationship.

I had tried to get Andy up by calling him many times, but he didn't want to wake up. I know this is not a great excuse, but it's all I have, and I am human after all.

I wasn't pissed that she gave us shitty directions, even though I think I had a right to be. She moped and sat on the couch and was watching Summer Place, which happened to be Mom and Dad's movie when they were teens.

They both came from rich families and they were 16 years old. To watch this film from a critical standpoint kills me, because as I see the way Sandra D handled her situation, I imagined that's how my mother thought the situation would end up with her and dad since she was a "bad girl" and was "in trouble" when she was 16.

It kills me. Again we go back to the story of once you have something, what do you do with it? It made me quite sad to think what it meant to grow up in such times when you had to worry what people were going to say about you. I would have died, or tried my very best to end my life.

I was amazed at how far film has come in the brief time it has been around, although I would like to push it further.

On our way home, Andy and I stopped at Applebee's in Frankfort. He was hungry and he wanted something to eat (I had a really bad migraine, so bad I wanted to puke). I finished my soup and looked around at all the people's faces, disgusted to a certain point.

Here all these people sat... I know most of them had gone to church that morning because I live in the bible belt, and these kinds of people have a certain air about them, they carry themselves just as the Russians carry themselves differently.

I looked at how calm and how boring they all were, talking about shit that didn't matter. I looked over to Andy and told him "I can't stand it. They drive me insane. I refuse to be like this and I will get away from here." There is a compliancy written all over their faces like they believe in what their lives have to offer them, they have no desire to change and no desire to advance themselves further in life. I can't hate these people because I am glad they exist so I can see what it is I abhor in their characters, when the worst thing that happens in their lives is a flat tire.

So very different then the faces I saw a little over two weeks ago. It's like I stepped away from chaos into the Twilight Zone, and I don't mean that in a good way.

The really ironic thing that killed me was there was a poster of Sigmund Freud hanging on the wall, holding a cigar. I thought to myself, "how appropriate."

We left and went by the storage to pick my desk and some clothes up. We sat at mom's grave for a little while, just talking about nothing much. I cleaned my place up some and Andy fell asleep on my bed and I left him there. There is something to be said about being comfortable with certain situations, and one of the main reasons I feel that I need to leave Louisville is to get away from his comfort. I hate that I am dependent upon him for certain things, but I think this is just a stage I am going through since mom's death.

My mission is to be totally independent. I have to feel like I dont' need anyone and by getting away from Andy, one person I know who always comes through for me, I will... what will I do? Prove to myself that I can be alone? I don't really know...

So I got this e-mail from this guy that lives in Amsterdam asking me (whenever I translate anything, it's in Cathy terms) basically why the hell am I still living here if I can't stand Americans and their way of life...

Well, this is not a simple answer. I suppose because I don't speak French, because if it were really up to me, I would be in French Polynesia. That's where I would like to get old and die, but in order to live there, I think I need to master French, and that seems virtually impossible.

It would be very difficult for me to leave the country, I think. I am so relieved to get home when I go away but in two weeks I can't wait to get out of here. It's like a really bad love affair that can't be ignored or dispelled because it's such a part of me. I define my self in this culture. I know what I can say and do to make people go, "You know Cathy, you are right." To see someone's revelation is amazing and oh so worth it. But I don't want to be a teacher, funny, eh?

I don't know what I want to do with my life. I know that I will never be content with a normal American one. I want to effect people and make them understand that there's more to this life then paying bills and working and doing shit that doesn't really matter. I want to be an inspiration to those that I meet and you that read this diary because life isn't bad, it's all wonderful, and it's all what you make of it. Look at my life, what I have been through, I am not sad, and I don't regret a moment of it... OK, that Italian, I could have lived without that memory... but I feel myself curled up in a little ball in the pit of my stomach, and once I am free, I don't know how I will ever contain myself.

I used to be miserable, I used to be depressed, now I sound like a fucking info-mercial and I can't have that.

Life is so precious, and how can you weather the storm if you don't ride the waves?

And by the way, I got into that class.

Tuesday, September 22, 1998

One day I am going to think I am a freak for putting so much personal stuff here... no I am not. Life is short and if it carries any entertainment value, then I suppose it is all marketable.

I feel like crying now. I looked and hunted and searched for that missing file, the first part of last year's November. I could never find it. I was doing maintenance yesterday and I moved this file to my computer and then threw it away. Something told me to open it and I almost started crying because I really felt like a piece of my life was missing. Now I need to update in other areas.

It's not that I was particularly crazy about what I said, but it was when I went to the NIH with mom, and that really means a lot to me. Funny...

I am going to be updating a lot of things, and moving my page soon. I am not terribly excited about it, I am actually rather nervous, which is one of the reasons I haven't moved over yet.

I suppose I have a hard time with making such dramatic changes. I love changing, but I also enjoy a certain level of stability, or I should say expect it.

I have been awakened the past two days by men doing construction on the house. The stupid fucks left my bike out (am I the stupid fuck?) and when I went to ride it this morning, it was gone.

I suppose I was just tempting the gods and I knew that if I left something attainable, that someone would come steal it. I think I will put a sign on my car that reads "Thanks for stealing my bike. My dead mother bought it for me. It was worthless except for sentimental value. If you would like, I will leave my keys in my car so you can steal it too." Normally, I put it in the dark part of the yard so nobody could really see it.

I think I should be more angry, but I just can't be. Maybe I should get a moped and feel oh so European, like an Italian or something.

Which takes me back to thinking about how I rode on the back of one when I was in Florence. Big Cheesy Grin. There was the beautiful German boy that took me for a ride, just because he was nice. That was so much fun. God, he was good looking. I wish I had a photo, but I ran out of film that night.

He rode his scooter from Germany to Florence. I can't even imagine what that ride was like. My back would be hurting... that's something I really like about European men, no matter how heavy something is or what a pain in the ass something is to do, they rarely bitch about it.

Americans bitch about everything under the sun. It gets old, especially if they can change it. I would like to think I am beyond such things, but I know when I am over burdened, I have a tendency to do the same. It's not so easy to take everything you have been taught and flush it down the commode because certain behaviors are actually encouraged. I suppose that's what makes things great over here.

I have learned 2 things I would like to share that are pretty interesting. Germs from your hands come from underneath your fingernails (which is yet another reason to quit biting my nails, the first is because it causes micro fractures in your teeth).

(And I forgot the other because it's Wednesday and I didn't finish what I was writing about yesterday.)

***************************************

I fucking hate the media. They never tell the whole truth.

If you watched Dateline tonight, concerning the murder of Brenda Sue Shaffer by Melvin Ignatow, the lawyer that was representing him from the time he was found not guilty up until the day they found the photographs of her body was my father.

I was talking to him somewhat at that time in my life, 1991, and he would have that bastard over for dinner. When they found the photographs, my dad couldn't believe his client was guilty. He mentioned how disgusting it was to view the photographs.

So I really hate the media, because they acted like Charlie Rickets was his attorney when those photographs were found.

Just another example why you can't believe ANYTHING you see. (I don't talk to my dad for what he has not done or what he has said, but God Dammit, if you are going to report something, you might as well do it right.)

Wednesday, September 23, 1998

How the hell did I get so many hours in school? I will never figure it out. I don't feel like I have done all that much... strange.

Everyone congratulate Tanya on becoming a U.S. citizen... yeah! I am SO proud of her (I told her they couldn't make the test harder then any typical high school grad test in history, because that would just make us look really stupid).

Speaking of stupidity... I understand grief fucks you up... I don't think people think critically of their actions, ever. There is definitely a cause and effect thing going on here, and for some reason, it's very popular over here to do something stupid and not take responsibility for it.

I talked to Melissa on the phone earlier for about 5 hours. (Gee, Cathy, nice job where you can sit on your ass and talk on the phone all day... now you KNOW why I fought to keep this job). I was scanning photos and we were just talking.

I am amazed at how long we can talk though. I normally don't like spending SO much time on the phone, because it's easier to just go drive to someone's house and see them. I told her that I was amazed that we could talk so long and 1) no be totally bored of one another and 2) have so much new information to talk about. She told me that my family gives me lots to work with and on this note, I tend to agree.

I keep asking myself why the fuck am I here, and then I remember I have to get this shit with the estate settled and done. What a fucking mess. I know if it was all clear, that I would probably be somewhere else because let's face it, I can finish those papers anywhere (ha ha).

I told her all of what Anne has been sending me and the little power games that are going on. She sees things more clearly then even I do and I really don't want to believe what she is saying about all this shit (I told her this too) because I know what she is saying is true.

I didn't tell her everything Anne had written to me when towards the last third of our conversation she said "Next thing you know she will be talking about how she lost her mother." I started crying and laughing so hard. Anne is trying to guilt me into feeling for her, and I am not going to love her like her mom. Nobody can fill in that gap, ever, and I don't want to be held responsible for her shit, nor will I take it.

I could not believe that she pegged such a thing. I had tears pouring out the side of my face.

Then talking to Tanya last night broke my heart to a certain extent. You see, whenever you have a family with someone that has Cancer, one person (usually the victim) begins to hate the world, people, themselves, life, just numerous things because they fell cheated and jilted.

Well, I believe that everything happens for a reason. I don't feel sorry for my sister because she is alive and many, many, many people have died from this disease. Well, she wants to wallow in her misery, and I am sorry, but she is healthy. As Melissa says, I still have headaches, the residuals she has from cancer are minimal. She has even been in remission over 8 years now, and that pretty much means she is cured (not to say she can't get it in other places...)

Anyways, when Anne was sick, she pushed us all away so she could die in the woods or something. Then she blamed us all for abandoning her. She doesn't want to say that she did anything wrong, but I will tell you this, I won't put up with anyone's shit like that, I don't care if she was dying. There is only so much hurt you can put someone through before they finally give up and quit.

Now she has those issues of abandonment to deal with and she doesn't think she did anything wrong, or she doesn't want to admit to it, and the harder she fights herself and tries to delude herself into thinking that shit is true, the harder it's going to be for her to get over mom dying.

I don't like talking about other people like this, but I am going to. Tanya is going through the same thing and it is one of the absolutely most painful processes I have personally been through. Anne wants to excuse her behavior to her having cancer, but I am sorry, we didn't know my cyst was benign until the day they did surgery. I wasn't a banshee like she has been.

So... I hurt for Tanya all over again. When this all started way back when, I wanted to tell her, to somehow warn her that something like this might happen, but how can you articulate this kind of horror to someone that hasn't experienced it? I was also desperately hoping that this wouldn't happen.

It's a fracture in the family structure that determines if it's like the crack in between your teeth or the San Andres fault. I know there is no way for our family because usually I was the one that kept things calm and even and now, fuck that, every man for them self.

I would like to think I need my family, but I don't. I can create my own and find more people that think like me that are not only worthy and giving of my and their own attention, but give to me just as much as I give to them. And feel more human in the process.

So the main point I was getting to was that people don't think their actions through, from a critical standpoint. Take a few steps back and realize how they can effect someone else's life. I mean, we are too fucking old to be putting up with sibling rivalry. There's nobody to keep score any longer.

So, I am off to Dallas tomorrow to see my friend who's mother died when I was in the Ukraine. She is just 18, and when I talk to her and write to her, she sets me straight on a lot of things, which I find to be just amazing.

And these closing words from my pal, Vlad, in Moscow about Monigate.

Honey, that was exactly my reaction. I was trying to understand whether the bitch was victimized or got all the pleasure in the world. From my own experience I am on cloud nine when I get the chance to suck cock.

Thursday, September 24, 1998

Getting on the plane feels like...

I push the car... the road is open... 60, 70, 80 (130 ), 90 (140 kilometers) miles per hour. I scream. I laugh. I dance in my seat.

Being in the air feel like I am home again. I think I was meant to fly... a lot. But I feel the pressure in my head because when I fly, that air in my head pressurizes as well. The higher we go the more I am aware of the pain. My body shuts down from this and not enough sleep and I wake up drooling, embarrassed, but nobody else knows.

Flying, moving somewhere, a destination other then home. I am happy to be out of Kentucky already, and I haven't even been home 20 days. I leave and the weather has turned into a cold spell. I know in Texas, the weather is going to be hot so I dress in shorts with a sweater.

I land around 9. I go to get to the car rental place and the first thing out of the shuttle driver's mouth is "you look just like this girl that was on Jerry Springer last night." I know I am going to like Texas. She tells me how she is married and has two kids at 22. Her life resembles an episode from Jerry Springer. She works 7 days a week and she has a boyfriend on the side.

I sit around and wait for noon to roll around so the weekend will take effect.

"The stars at night
Shine warm and bright
Clap, clap, clap
Deep in the heart of TEXAS"

I scream at the top of my lungs.

I ask how much the Neon will be, and then I overhear a man bitching about having to wait. He has USAA insurance, and so do I (one of the only good things about my father... since he was an officer, I think he retired a Lieutenant Colonel, I get government insurance for my car and my credit card is at 12%). I didn't make my reservations with Hertz through USAA, I save over 7 dollars after I remedy the situation.

The girl behind the desk has the biggest teeth I have ever seen. They protrude from her mouth in a strange, attractive way. She told me earlier the Mustang convertible was $70, and there was no weekend rate. Now it has gone to $40 because I am a member of USAA.

I think to myself if I should get the convertible. I tell her my mom would be pissed. "We won't say anything."

I think "you're fucking eddy right about that, sweetheart."

I think how much more fun I would have in a convertible... I can't help myself...

I am flying, screaming, dancing in this Mustang, and I finally let my hair down. It hits my face in a strange cycle. I scream louder. I tell my mom I miss her. I scream just to scream. Then I scream to myself that I love me and that I am free.

So free... I feel totally unconfined and unencumbered. No thoughts of missing class. No thinking about papers that are due.

I reflect to when I was in the pool and I really have to wonder, why in the hell am I living in Kentucky. My hair is longer then it's ever been. It hits my shoulder blades. When it's wet, it flows around my head like seaweed.

I hold the picture of Dana's dead mother. I look at the color of her eyes, her hair, and her facial structure. I say to Dana, "I look like your mother." She doesn't disagree, but she doesn't agree very much either.

Later, when I went to her psych class she writes me a note that said "when you smile and laugh, you look like my mom." I want to cry, because I was starting to think I didn't look all that much like her. I write to her that I hope this is a good thing because those kinds of reminders...

I am reminded of how I reminded my father of my mother and how I suffered for this genetic roll of the dice. She writes back to me that it's a totally good thing. I feel much better.

I love Texas, and I love North Texas University. The men are nice, I suppose better then back home, or maybe they are nice back at home too, it's just that I am working all the time so I never leave the office.

I love Dana. She is awesome. We were making sick jokes about the things we have been though and both laughing our asses off at each other jokes. I needed this. I needed someone that has hurt this way that isn't fucked up over grief, but just realistic about the whole situation.

When I was racing off on the flat highway I though back to when I was in Russia, in Volgograd and how we drove and drove and drove to the dacha. The road sucked, was bumpy as hell but the roads here are smooth and seamless.

I am falling in love with myself, and I think that's a good thing.

Monday, September 28, 1998

I just did a cart wheel down the hall. Maybe I should do them more often.

I met Catherine Clay on the plane from Dallas yesterday. She was a snobby, pretentious cunt. She was impressed that I had been to Russia. I sat and talked with her for about a half an hour. She had that Clay air about her and I was just... myself, wonderful, nice, Cathy.

The cunts that were with her were talking about how I had one of their seats and I was just like "This is the seat they gave me." When I checked in, the airline representative told me I was double booked, which has happened before. I thought nothing of it because... nothing like this has ever happened before. I just sat there and was enjoying the whole situation because I realized there were really 2 Catherine Clays on this flight and these dumb cunts didn't realize it until I yelled "My name is also Catherine Clay!" ("Oh... you're Tee's daughter").

I sat there and asked her questions about our families and shit like that. It was interesting to learn more about my history, but even more interesting to see that shitty Clay attitude (even Isometimes exhibit) is a part of their conscious... they think they are so much better then everybody else, and they just aren't. I wasn't even impressed this cunt was a direct descendant of Cassius Clay, he was a crazy old fucker that in his 80s married a teenager... GROSS!

I am emotionally drained. I would like to think I am above just about all the emotions that are experiencible, but as far as anxiety and anger are concerned, I fall right into the human category. Except I have a really fucked up way to express anger.

I knew by the time I left the state of Texas I would have a traffic violation. Maybe it was a mission. Needless to say, when I was driving from Austin to Dallas, I was pulled over in Whacko, Texas (for those of you no familiar with Whacko, that's where David Koresh and the Branch Dividians had a little B-B-Que some years ago).

The traffic signs in Whacko (I mean Texas) make no sense. First they tell you to go 60 if you are a truck, and 55 or 50 at night, and then if you are a car, you can go 70 or 60 in the city. I was so fucking confused I am surprised I only received one traffic violation.

So that was my fit with anger. The anxiety came when I thought I was going to miss my plane because I went to the wrong airport. Imagine that. There are only like, 50 airports for rich ass Texans. I had to use the generic International one. I was 30 minutes away, Texas time, from the real airport. I booked ass the whole time there, freaking out, listening to the new Marylin Manson CD.

Then one of the last songs (don't know the name of the song I was listening to) talked about how "she said 'I'm not in love with you, but I'll fuck you, 'til something better comes along'" and I thought... Marylin, how the fuck did you get into my mind?

I told Joe the other week I was sick of getting comfort fucks from Andy. I do feel rather guilty about it, but we are both adults. I think it's something a lot of people are doing. They find someone that they aren't crazy about, but nobody else seems all that interesting, so we stay together, just fucking.

I don't know why in the hell Andy puts up with it, because I talk about all the guys I fucked when I was overseas and for some reason, he's still happy to be there. I guess I can't really complain. But after hearing this song, I felt guilty. Normally I adore Marylin Manson, people take his image way too seriously, but now I am ever so slightly pissed.

Yesterday was pretty bad. We went to get a tuner so my CD player works (I haven't had a CD player or a TV since I moved) and I started to get overwhelmed with buying shit. I have been trying to buy stuff to fill this hole I feel because my mother is gone, and nothing can fill it, and buying stuff just puts holes in other places. So I was freaking out. We went to Lazarus so Andy could buy some Clinque soap and I talked him into buying me lipstick so we got the free gift with purchase.

He needed pants for work so I was teary, and hell, he can spend his money on him and I will help. So as he was dressing, I was looking at other pants and saw this pair on sale for $13 that were linen in Andrei's size and I started crying. Not only because they were $13, but they were the right length too!

I sat in the dressing room with Andy and just bawled and told him all about it, and he listened and comforted me. Which brings me to my third point... There are 3 people I will always trust who have never tried to hurt me. That's Zack, Melissa, and Andy. Now that mom is gone, I need to try to not make this hole disappear, but make it smaller. I have other friends I value a great deal, but these are people I have known over 7 years and it took me a while to get to know each one of them.

Melissa was the pretty chick at work everyone wanted to screw and she was so not into those peon workers at the movie theater. I was curious to know her and she actually talked to me where she totally ignored the guys that were sticking their tounges out in front of her. Zack and I took Russian together the first semester I was here, but we didn't get close until after he moved away and realized that I will do something with my life, just like I realize he will be something too. And Andy, I had a crush on Andy when I was 15. We went out on a date and he never called me back so when I saw him again in college, I gave him my number and he called and we have been around one another ever since.

When I decided to break up with him last year, it was hard. Then I figured out we could still hang out and be friends. He loves me and so what if he gives comfort fucks? It was nice when mom died and I know he will always be there for me, no matter what a cunt I am because I did that to try to make him break up with me and that didn't even work.

I have a lot of other close friends as well. That would be Tanya, Katie, Dana, Hadley, Eric, Merissa, Joe is getting there... there are a lot I don't have the mind to mention now.

I am starting to realize that no matter who you meet, they pretty much have some kind of impact on your life. So, think about these things when you meet strangers. I make sure I have some kind of impact on everyone I meet in some way. All my professors know who I am. And most people have something funny they can say about me. I decided I was going to be that kind of person a long time ago, back in high school. I was even voted Most Individual and I think I have proven that I am that, at least to myself.

So, I should talk about my weekend in Dallas.

Thursday I was alone, and I enjoyed being so free. I hope I retain that piece of myself from that night for many years to come because the feeling of being uninhibited by everything was such a rush, well going 90 on a highway in a convertible was pretty groovy too.

So, I told Dana that we should hit the road, since I had unlimited miles. So we drove to Austin (3 hours away) and we talked and talked about so much shit. For Dana to be 18, she sure has had a hell of a life, and she's not fucked up! That's the part that gets me.

We talked about how her room-mate is a freak. She is demanding and requires way too much attention, so we talked about how she always tried to one up Dana.

"I'm hot."
"You're hot, you should try marching"

Or here's my personal favorite.
"I miss my mom"-Dana
"YOU miss your mom! Mine lives 8 hours away!"-dumb, un-sensitive cunt

I mean, I realize that her room mate is really immature and everything, but come on... there is no excuse for her blatant in-sensitivity. Dana's mom is dead, just like my mom is dead. There is nothing she can ever receive from her mother as long as she lives... except to know that she loved her.

I find it hard for myself to value very many people's opinion, because a lot of people don't have such personal experiences that set them apart. I can honestly say that there is nothing I can one up Dana on. She's had it that bad, but she's like me! She doesn't try to make anyone feel bad, she is so sweet, and I don't think she has a mean bone in her body (I know I do). I understand the majority of it too, at least through my perspective.

I was treated so poorly growing up that I decided I would never be the cause for anyone's pain. It took me a while to realize that this is a good way to have "Take Advantage of Me" written on my head, so I have slowly had to learn how to assert myself, which isn't that easy, and sometimes, I do hurt people's feelings.

We got to Austin, and being the old lady I am, I had to take a nap, so I slept and Dana and her beau, Paul sat there and talked did whatever. When I woke up, there was a play on campus, called Rhinoceros. I can't think of the campus now... Southwestern? It's a tiny college in Georgetown.

So, that play kicked ass. There were things the author could have done with it from a critical stand-point, but he didn't. His basic thing was along the line that he didn't hate society, just mankind. In this play, all the people turn into Rhinos, which is so funny, and there is one guy that doesn't and he is basically killed by them in the end, and I understand how that character feels because I feel that when I try to express my views out loud, I am pretty much looked at like I am a freak.

I think my therapist thinks I enjoy this, that I do it for a kick, but I am really like this. I really think this way. I couldn't possibly make this much shit up on my own without the very least, an overactive imagination.

Anyways, so then we went out to eat and got a hotel room and the next day we went into Austin to 6th street. Nobody wanted to go to the Alamo, I guess it's boring or something. So I took photos off the roof and some of Dana and Paul. They made fun of me, so I didn't take a lot. That's weird, when I am made aware that people aren't comfortable having their photo taken, then I kind of stop, but if they hadn't, I think I would have used all my film.

So there was that, eating at the Iron Cactus. I don't even know the difference between an enchiladas and a cacahuate. Dana was surprised, but I wasn't raised on that stuff, so I don't know the difference.

They are both amazing people. He reminded me of Andy, he was just a rock for her, but it was different too because he stood up for himself.

We later went to an Elliot Smith Concert. He's pretty groovy. I was surprised at how much I felt like I fit in down there. When I was in Boston, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb, but down in Texas, I kept looking around expecting to see someone I knew. There is a thing to be said about Southern Culture, and now I am more confident that I am a member, no matter what those deep Southerns say.

I can not get over how amazing Dana is. She is just so with it and she understands so much, but that's a Catch 22 as well... Hard to describe in words... I can just feel it.

Speaking of feelings... I was at the grocery last night and I bought some food for Zack to eat, because he's a vegetarian. He didn't tell me he was coming into town until today. I told him I went to the grocery and bought him food in case he was planning on coming down and he said "I asked off for Oct. 9-12 so I can come see my mom, and I was hoping to stay with you one night." I freak out over such things... I mean, I really didn't expect him to come, but something told me to buy him food anyway. Weird.

Tuesday, September 29, 1998

I went to Melissa's last night. I was hungry so I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and she stood there and said "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you really look like a boy in those clothes."

"I'm not trying to get laid at work, Melissa, so why should I give a fuck?" I answered laughing.

"Oh my god, your boobs are bigger, you have lost weight."

"I was thinking the same thing when I was in Dallas. 'Damn my tits are big...'" So you can just imagine how the rest of the night went. We talked about everything and nothing. I told her how I met the pretentious Catherine Clay and she laughed when I told her "she even asked 'what did the Russians make of you, since you are a Clay?' (Cassius Clay was the first ambassador under Abraham Lincoln... Whoopitie do!)"

I answered her with "they have enough problems of their own then to worry about such things." Then I went off on how I bet this woman never leaves her comfort of people knowing that she once came from greatness, but has no aspirations of her own to be great, except maybe at interior design.

"Lexington is like that. Everyone is caught up in who is who..." Melissa lived in Lexington when she was young, and then she moved out West. I suppose that's why Anne fits so well in Lexington, cause Clay shit is everywhere and it probably makes her feel important. I could care less. I mean I think it's cool, but who really gives a fuck?

Anyway... we are counting down the days until our cruise. I am excited. I am calming down enough to start working on my class. I am such a geek, and I really like geeky men.

I don't know why people think jocks are the ones... they couldn't fuck their way out of a tin can, I have been with one, and that was plenty. But give me a geek and I go insane. Not too geeky though... Andy is right on the border line. There is a stereotype out there of geeky men, but the kind of guys I like fall somewhere in between computer nerd/philosopher.

Just about every philosopher I have met, are totally computer geeks, but they have enough philosophy so that they don't ignore things like hygiene. You can hold a conversation with one about existentialism or nihilism and they don't look at you like you are a freak. Maybe I am just the biggest freak because you can't find too many chicks to talk about this stuff.

Anyways... ahhh... I actually have work to do! My boss is going away for a little while to work on a different project. I am not too happy because he is so cool. I need to get over being here, though. I have got to move on to bigger and better things.

I talked to Melissa about Andrei, I think I am just getting him out of my system. She told me to just get over it, I'll never see him again, blah blah blah... shit I needed to hear but don't want to realize. But like Tanya said, I got the best parts out of him, and Melissa added that I didn't have to put up with the bad parts very long.

I guess it's just a matter of putting things in perspective. I don't know why I hope for things to work out, but it's hard for me to let things go. I was listening to this song in Austin where the chick sings about how she is "no mermaid" and I started tearing up because that's something he told me. Oh well. I am being a stupid girl, I suppose I can't help it.

I thought of this great business idea... maybe it will work. I was sitting in class when it came to me. I am not going to talk about it until something starts rolling.

Oh man... I am sleepy. I have to work and understand and write. Later.

Wednesday, September30, 1998

God, I had so many interesting things to talk about...

Oh yes, now I remember...

How to be a cunt and get what you want, with a smile on your face

I was at vulture city last night, returning a piece of shit receiver so my CD player would work. Andy thought it would be in my best interest to buy one instead of getting a cheap stereo, and since he's a man, I will defer on this one and get some nice equipment that is cool.

So the sales Associate at Vulture City when I came in and was picking over my "dumb cunt" mind. I looked at the open boxes (who gives a shit, right?) and found something acceptable. I told him I wanted it for what I paid and he told me they couldn't come down on the price, at all. He was firm in his resolve.

I gave him a knowing glance and thought "just watch me." I went up to the service counter and I asked to speak to the manager, which flustered the little girl behind the counter, but that bitch wouldn't give me my fucking money back because "your check hasn't cleared." I was tired, hungry, and pissed since the other piece of shit didn't work. I looked at the boy-man manager (who will work there the rest of his life) and said "I paid for this receiver just a few days ago. Either I take that receiver for just $25 dollars more or I leave with a bad feeling about Vulture City."

He looked at me, saw me for what I am, a big, bitching cunt and decided that giving me the open box receiver for just $25 more was much easier the the hell I was planning on raising if I didn't get my fucking money back. Andy stood in the shadows. It was a rather quiet show down. The fucker that told me they wouldn't come down in price approached the service counter, head lowered.

I think they ended up going... it was $179 and I paid $126. That's a good chunk, for not being able to come down, don't you think? I wanted to look over at the fucker as I left with the receiver in my arms and bend down and childishly say "neener neener poo poo... stick your head in doo doo... sucks that the customer is ALWAYS right, eh?" But I was a dignified cunt, and I said nothing.

As Andy was hooking the new one up, he was impressed. I think technology is obsolete and in my frame of mind, I was like, "this was manufactured when? Fuck you, if it was 'this year's model' then it's already out of date." Which is the fucking truth.

But I was nice, I kept my voice lowered and I gave them the evil eye all while smiling. "Moo-who-who-aat-at-at-at-ahhhhhhhhhhhh."

Pure
Photography

PHOTOS\

Dr. Block's

Nature

Cubes

Europe

Portraits

Fantasy

Dying

Kazantip

Birthday

Russia '96

Russia

London '99

Stills '98