Friday, January 1, 1999

Snow has descended upon this fair land and made her beautiful and pristine. Unfortunately, she is also "colder then a witches titty" as my great- grandmother would have said. It feels good to lay here in my bed, next to my beloved window looking down into St. James Court wearing the sweater my little sister bought me in Ireland.

I should run to the store real quick and get some milk since there is a storm heading this way. I see the wind picking up and the flakes are fluttering between being forced to move rapidly through the sky to falling delicately to the earth.

I heard from my Welch pen-pal that is stationed in Zelonoborsk, Russia. He misses the companionship of someone that understands what Russia is like for a foreigner, although he's there when it's -30... I could never do that, I don't think. I hate Kanfuckme right now, because with the wind chill, it has been -13. He's a forester, and that interesting, but I don't know how to explain what he does.

I have been spending the last few days with my grandparents. It was a wonderful and amazing experience because I was able to talk to my grandmother and we got to be even closer then before.

I think back to times I was there with her before and she told me that I was easy to talk to. I told her yesterday that it was so nice to have a heart to heart and feel her love for me and give her love.

I don't know why but I have been feeling more love for Zack lately and in a way it worries me for the simple fact that I am afraid that the closer we get, the easier he will disappear from my life because it seems that the people I have cared for the most over the years have left me feeling unappreciated, but he doesn't in the slightest little bit.

So I am scared that I will wake up and one day he won't be here for me to care about. It's like I have all the friends I want to deeply care about now, and although I meet many people all the time, it's like I can only care about a select few on these levels or I will explode.

I read an article about friend's in one of Granny's magazines the other day. It basically said that women are in relationships and they are so wrapped up in the relationship that they really don't have time for their friend's. I hope I am never that way, it's tragic and sad because what happens when your partner is ripped away or divorced away? Who do you have but your good friends?

My family is there, but they won't always be. My grandparents are old and now I see them for how fragile they are versus the towers of strength they used to be. I know they can still do just about anything, but it's not like it used to be. Pop fixed my car handle that I broke the other day when I was at Joe and Tracey's place.

The snow is coming down more and more now. Enough to get a mouth full of snowflakes in your mouth if you kept it open.

So, I find out more and more about who my grandparents were each time I see them. I learned that Granny lived with her Great-Grandmother. When she started to describe her, it freaked me out... fully skirted and 4 petticoats. I can't *imagine* what it's like for my grandmother. To see such contradictions in time, although you can see it walking down the streets of Moscow.

My grandfather remembers everything. He must be the one I get this amazing memory from. He can tell you the most useless facts and figures... who won the Indy 500 when it all began.

My kitty was so happy to see me. He is 13. Andy was suppose to come by and love and feed him one day while I was gone but he forgot. He kept crawling into my lap as if I would disappear again.

It's hard for me to believe sometimes that I deserve to be loved. I have been abused by members of my family for so long that now that I know I don't have to put up with it, it's one step closer I feel that I am going to be to being a better person because no matter what, I know who I am and I know that I do not deserve to be put down and dragged around ever again.

I thought I would go to Virginia next week to see Elizabeth and Jen, but Elizabeth called to tell me she had to prepare to teach a class and Jen is working and getting excited about her trip, so I think I will put it off when it's conducive to us all.

I watched Guinness on TV with my Granny the other night. I think she rather enjoys the macarabe side of life, so maybe that comes naturally.

I had a really sedate New Year's. I was going to go out and going to go out and then when I got to town yesterday and decided to go out to eat with Melissa, so we waited with Andy at Oldenburg. I was going crazy because people were taking their sweet ass time with the holiday. But the food was worth the 3 hours it took to enjoy our dining experience. Plus I bitched and we got a $10 knocked off our bill. After dealing with that, I just didn't feel up to doing much more of anything else.

I read what I did last year, and it was basically the same. Only this time I was totally alone and it was nice. I think I am saving up for next year. I hope to God I am somewhere that kicks ass next year, but I am just going to take it one step at a time.

Saturday, January 2, 1999

It's raining today... and there is snow on the ground. It's steadily falling so as I watch it fall and think of the contrast to last night's snow, I can't help but wish that the rain was snow because I know for ever inch of rain there is 10 inches of snow, and the snow is much more beautiful. I am just glad for now, to look out on to St. James Court and see the snow basically pristine, not all dirty and nasty from cars driving by.

St. James Court was the first street to be lit by electric lights, I think. That is what I have been told but that is not necessarily what I have come to believe. Just as I can put no credence into history, because it has been documented by someone other then me that does not see life through their eyes in the manner in which I am accustomed. Any work of art, though, that is basically indisputable, in however it makes anyone feel at any given moment.

Sometimes reading about something isn't enough because I know that I didn't get a feel for Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment until I actually went on a walking tour in St. Petersburg and saw how so many people believed Raskolnikov was a real person... Maybe I should read it again so it has a richer meaning to me now.

Contradictions within myself, I hate being full of contradictions for what I feel is right and what I have come to know for myself and believe in... I look outside and I see a sunny street in Yaroslavl. I am walking behind Jan and we are going back to her apartment. The street I haven't photographed but is there just for my mind to see.

A man signed my guestbook today, and although I ignore most ignorant comments he had some valid points to make. One being that I should lighten up and see that the world isn't "all bad."

I am painfully aware that the world doesn't totally suck, that is why I have my beloved photographs for all to enjoy, so there is a balance to all this angst and hatred that disfigures my soul. Granted, I can never totally enjoy any experience without feeling some sense of trepidation, but the photographs speak for themselves because I have been trying to capture life as an art form and feel as I mature, I am getting better at interpreting the events that surround me.

I am trying to become more focused, and that will be quite an accomplishment if I can indeed follow through. I would like to now feel so much that the events in my life are just happening and that I am making my life happen, but I lost that focus when I returned from Europe, and just about lost all hope when I returned from Russia as I saw that country decline further into darkness.

I used to hate making traditionally beautiful photos or trying to be traditionally beautiful myself because watching my father destroy my mother and she was such a beautiful creature, has made me reluctant to glorify such things. But we all appreciate beauty and beauty always has a place and instead of trying to exploit it in the traditional manner, I am trying to make it my own... It's like when you look at the photo of the transexual in my welcome page. Society tells us that traditionally he is a freak of nature, but I think I was able to interpret her as a beautiful creature that doesn't fit the standard ideals of beauty or what it to be expected of her.

I just got an interesting e-mail about sex and how President Clinton should not be apologizing for being a sexual creature because that is who we are at a base level, and it would be much more difficult to fight off such a natural force such as gravity then it would be to abide by socitial standards of what is good and proper when half the fucking country is out fucking around on their spouse.

Now here comes the interesting part, something I have never considered because I try to be such an honest person. For someone to lie, they have to emotionally distance them self and naturally make a new reality. This duel reality is what eventually leads to the destruction of who you are as a person because you don't know which reality to believe in any longer.

My father has this problem, I am sad to say. He has constructed his life to be in a very delicate balance of where what he thinks and what he says is the truth, only he doesn't play by the rules society dictates. I found out this weekend that without my mother, my father would be a fucking loser. Granted, one day he would have found a way around his predicament, but my mother pushed him to become who she wanted him to be, the best lawyer in Kentucky, and when he was through with law school he was able to tell her to fuck off because he didn't want to be pushed any longer. I think this is why she never pushed my brother because she was so afraid of losing him, only I can't see what the big loss would have been.

I suppose this is one reason I can gain such a standard of intimacy from just about anyone I choose because I do not need to lie in order to gain intimacy, it just comes naturally when you are a good person and you live your life in such a conducive manner that nurtures that intimacy to further levels.

I would like to be a better person, and am continually striving to be, but sometimes I am taken aback to situations or attitudes that I had when I was a child and although it's hard not to react to situations in the manner in which I was raised to. I would like those attitudes and beliefs to disappear from who I am today, but those are pieces of myself that I need in order to construct the person I am today and with out them, I would be of lesser character now.

So I am continually trying to let things go... Zack and I had a really good conversation about that. I think the only real fear I have is of myself and in that revelation comes one fear alone that scares me above all else.

Who will hold me in their arms as I die?

It's hard to believe that my mother died almost a year ago. If I think about it... I am scared, although the fact of the matter remains that I can not expect anyone to be there for me as I die, it's unrealistic and I can't possibly put those expectations on anyone. I think the most valuable lesson I have learned in the first two days of the new year is really give it up and not expect anything from anyone, although I did have the tendency to believe that once before.

I can only take what people have to give me, and if that's not enough, then I am not really a good person... I shouldn't expect anything from anyone but myself and since I can give myself the world, then I suppose I am halfway there!

Here we are back to snow again. It's been a nothing day where I painted my nails and thought a lot and read on the net and watched the snow gracefully dance before my window yet again and watch my cat as he watches the snow tease him in the manner of a moth fluttering in the light. Couples hold hands and slide in the snow and I pretend as if I can hear their delightment as they pierce the silent, frigid air with their voices. It is so beautiful out my window. I was on ICQ and not 4 streets over, there was ice rain but here it was snowing. I feel like I am in an enchanted place. I look around and see the mass destruction of only Cathy Clay proportions, unpacked laundry, shoes and clothes amass and chaotically strewn across the room. I should be reading.

But the Godiva chocolates I love so much lay close to my bed to serve as a reminder what a totally wank off I have been today. I want to go and play in the snow, but it hardly seems worth it. I even thought about turning the TV on, but am enjoying the sounds of Random order coming across my speakers. Beck, the Church, Orbital... I could listen to that one song forever and ever...

But I work on my web-page. There has to be a point where you say "This has gotten out of hand" and you quit perfecting it and you quit fine tuning it and I wish I were there but there is always some new trick I have just learned or some new image to insert...

I think I like having my summers in Europe so I can come back here and improve my site, go out and come back and make it better... what a cycle.

I remember when I was a child, and we would go to my mom's house in the winter how hard it was to get up the driveway. My mom would always try and get her car to go fast enough to climb the hill. It was always scary and exciting. I think she kept us in the car for the leverage. Would would race and race up that hill, none of us saying a word, and then slide all the way back down the hill in a new attempt to climb the hill. We never fell into the ravine, but once mom left the brake off the 300ZX she use to drive and out of gear and it did fall into the ravine. It was the week I got out of the hospital the first time with a round of tests. I walked by the downstairs window and noticed this big black blur in the trees. I backed up, looked down and just started to laugh saying "This is my life!!!!" I am glad I no longer have to be there to see the many ghosts that abide in that house.

You are Hard core, you make me hard...
(this is the best fucking album.)
You can't be a spectator
OH NO

THIS IS ME ON TOP OF YOU
AND I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT TOOK ME THIS LONG

Damn Pulp fucking rocks! The memory of that song will forever live in my heart.

Here we go with the Foo Fighters.
Hello
I've waited here for you
EVERLONG...

I think I have come to the conclusion that if I am ever to be with a man and be married, I don't think I would be so offended if he was out fucking around. I know that I can not fulfill ever man's fantasy just as they can't. But God help the man who can open me up more because I know of my own sexual potential and with the right coals burning... I think I will go mad.

I have been such a good girl this year... 2 whole days by myself. I am growing listless... there is a bar just down the street, it's snowy and romantic... but then I will break my month record.

Sunday, January 3, 1999

Wonderful, Wonderful, A-FUCKING-MAZING day. I spent the day with my old room mate, Jacinta. I swear, we feel out over a year ago and it was all so stupid. I think the older we both get... I appreciate her so much.

I realize in my mind that it is full of contradictions, but I know what is in my heart and I feel that once I love someone, it's hard for me to let them go totally.

I still think about a girl I was friends with in 5th grade. Her name was Autumn Martin. That's something that impressed me about Roman, is that he had a pen pal from grade school and they kept writing to one another and he even tried to call her when he was here. I also have the tendency to think about what people say many, many years afterwards. I would like to think everyone does this, but not everyone wishes to be so aware.

I wish I could lead my life with my heart, but I find that I get hurt so easily that way.

So, we talked and ate and went to the grocery store and then rented a video. Two. But we watched The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I did not know it at the time, but it has 3 of the things I love most in the world in the plot. A Russian flavor in the city of Prague and a photographer. I love Juliet Binoche, but I don't like how... I think she is a virgin and the first guy she has sex with is who she marries, or so I am led to believe. It isn't until further in the plot that she finally treats him as he has treated her and she cheats on him. Granted, it happens every day, but she is so consumed with guilt they have to run off to the country and then they die.

So... it's weird. I love it, I am watching it again now. It's a very symbolic movie and I get off on that kind of intellectual stimulation. Plus it was weird to be in Prague this summer and read about how the tanks rolled into the city in the seventies and then watching it on film, I can't tell you what it means to me because it's just so much more powerful to realize I walked the same streets where such overwhelming oppression once existed. And today, it's such a beautiful place... I felt like a lost princess in Prague. As if I had awakened into a wonderful dream that was reality.

So... as I watch this movie again, and I hear the Russians tell the photographer that they "love" her I have to wonder to myself, where do you draw the line from oppression to love. I mean, to love someone, you have to be willing to let them go, if not just to be free, but to allow them to die as well. Juliet Binoche can't understand how her husband can have affairs on her, but when she does it, she feels empty. This is such a prevailing theme in cinema and the media, that women do not enjoy stepping away, and part of me wonders if that is true.

When I finally decided it was over between Andy and me, and I knew in my heart that once I cheated on him it was over, then I didn't feel so bad or guilty or even that empty. I rather enjoyed the company of the guy I was with, there are some things I would have liked to have gone differently between us, but I chalk that experience to immaturity on both our parts.

I watch the main character in this movie, Sabine, and I want to be her. Moving through life as an artist, able to pick up and leave when she wishes, and never sticking with one man and running away at the thought of being confined in such a manner. I hate this society sometimes.

Jacinta told me what it was like to be in Finland. She was there for many months and she had to come home because she was there as long as she could be. It's so beautiful in the photographs...

So is it too much to ask for a lover? I watch this movie and I see how easy it is for this woman to move through life and I have to wonder to myself why can't it be like this for me? Do I pick jealous lovers or am I still such a part of this culture that there are some things I can never let go? Why does my heart yearn to be so free one moment and in a relationship the next?

I think that is my New Year's resolution, to quit expecting anything from anybody and just learn to accept time as love and leave it at that. I know that when I had few expectations of others, my life was like, 10 times easier. But then I was also in a relationship and my mother wasn't dead.

I think I would like to live a free lifestyle... without many constraints.

My mother used to tell me that I should live my life with either my head or my heart... decide which one that rules me and go with it. I would like to think there is a balance between the two, but then I am overwhelmed with emotion and I don't know what to think... or even worse, how to feel. A very precocious balancing act. But God I love being alive today and I am so happy I got to be with Jacinta.

Monday, January 4, 1999

I don't believe in justice any longer. I let go of everything Psycho Pump wants or accomplishes. Good luck to you and your wife, it's not worth fighting you for anything ever again. You can have all of mom's shit, as far as I am concerned because I know she will always love me.

I came home from the courthouse and my kitty was under the covers... it was funny because at first I didn't know where he was and he slept on the sweater Anne got me in Ireland this morning so when I put it on it was warm.

This is too fucking funny.

I was reading in this article in Interview about this guy that wrote a book about how necessary it was to be impatient, and then I didn't feel so bad about being impatient because I realized that through my impatience, I have changed in many ways.

However, I am just holding out to see if what comes around goes around. I would like to think that there is cosmic justice, even if there is no real justice.

Oh well, I guess I will just take comfort in knowing that my last memory of my mother before she died wasn't forcing her off the toilet and letting her fall to the ground and hurting her knees, but he always was inconsiderate of what he did to my mother, or even the rest of us for that matter.

So... Jacinta, we talked forever. There are few people that you can just come back to and ease into them like bath water. She is one of them. And we are competitive against one another in a healthy way. We always encourage each other to travel and seek out new things. I think she will be a doctor... She's also in this awful transition phase where she just graduated and she isn't sure what the hell she is going to do.

Which all the stress is compounded by her boyfriend being in Finland and not being here. I asked her why they didn't just get married, so he could get a job here or she could go over there and she tells me she doesn't want it to be like that, but it just makes no sense. Americans have a fucked up attitude about marriage, but I think Europeans do too. I don't think you should have a baby and then decide it's time to get married... Jacinta is part Peruvian and Puerto Rican, so she has that hot Spanish and Indian blood in her, and there is that culture that she is such a part of. I love her family. I love her father even more because he was a good man to me.

She knew mom died earlier, but she didn't write me until she was comfortable with writing and I told her she should be glad because I fucked off a lot of people when I was initially starting to grieve. Part of me feels bad about that but then I think about the people I fucked off and how they had hurt me in the past real bad and I wanted to prove to them I didn't need their fucking sympathy.

I was reading through my journal from a year ago and it's weird to see how the stress of someone dying can have upon some of your thoughts. I know when I was the most insane... I have a diseased mind, and I have to remind myself that I am not going to look at life the way everyone else does. But I know in my heart that I try to be a good person to everyone, but there are those two exceptions.

I am also a lot closer to both of my sisters. We have had our disagreements in the past, but it all of a sudden feels like we can trust one another on many different levels.

Granny has just about finished my suit. All she needs to do is fix the skirt.

Tuesday, January 5, 1999

I have been a very busy gurl today.

I got up out of bed and went to my psychologist's appointment only to find out it isn't until Thursday.

And then I had a lunch date, which went really nice. I am happy for that and he seems like a cool guy. I was such a smart ass... and he was able to come back at me without being demeaning. Maybe it's a Kanfuckme thing.

I came back and *gasp* cleaned my apartment. I was going to head out to Danville but I called Granny and she told me that they were going to come here to pick up a friend of theirs. Well... there was this big storm that has fucked up half the country, just a sneeze upon Kanfuckme, so every fucking plane from here to Timbuktu is delayed, especially the ones in St. Louis. So, I am waiting for her plane to get her at midnight.

So, I have been thinking of the comical display my brother gave in front of the judge about how "Oh my god, she publishes her personal thoughts on the web." Like the judge was going to somehow shame me into submission.

I think shame is a horrible emotion that I no longer feel so much, because I am not ashamed of my feelings or being human... I think of Elizabeth and how she taught us in class about the mind/body split that Christianity forces upon us all, and then I think along the same note about being un-apologetic for who I am, and I think it's a very Southern thing to be sorry for impositioning someone in any way, shape, or form, and I think that something she may not have considered was that that mind/body split extends into accepting yourself for who you are.

If we all accepted that we are fundamentally human and that we are going to fuck up and that we shouldn't be sorry for exhibiting such human behaviors , would people then lie? I mean think about it... if you accept yourself for every flaw and take such a strong responsibility for your actions and think about what you say before you say it, what have you got to be sorry for, or much less, why should you be ashamed for anything that you do?

So... some events go beyond your control, and accepting them for what they are as they happen and accepting yourself and taking responsibility... that's what being human to me is all about. By knowing yourself and accepting that I feel that this is the key to true happiness.

There is no point to shame, as far as I am concerned. It's just some fucked up manipulation people use to gain control over you. I will never be ashamed for exhibiting the behaviors typical of my species. That's the main difference between our wild cousins and ourselves, they aren't ashamed for exhibiting natural behaviors.

Now that doesn't mean I don't know the difference between right and wrong. I just know what is right and what is wrong for me.

I think I am going to start talking about some of the classes I have had because I think an education is a wonderful thing to have and an exceptional gift to share.

It wasn't until I took one of Elizabeth's classes, Women and Religion did I finally quit feeling like such a freak in the bible belt. Plus Elizabeth was one of these professors that wasn't a hippy but progressive with her thoughts and she reveled pieces of herself in class to break apart that "I'm the all knowing professor" and bring it to a more emotional level so everything she said I clung to. That is what the power of being a phenomenal professor is versus being a typical one. I would do just about anything for her for this reason, and I hope to God (ha ha) she now realizes why it is I admire, love and care for her. And she wasn't an easy professor by any means because she assigned a lot of work, and I was overpowered with learning so much in such a short period of time and in the same token, so grateful. Through her education, she gave me a better acceptance of who I am as a person... I was a demanding student as well so she was able to quell my desire to learn more by keeping it interesting and stimulating.

So... what were some of the things I learned from her? I learned there was a woman that was Pope, that fat women were once revered as Goddess because they were able to give so much back to the earth, I learned that kings probably came from a ritual where men were sacrificed once a year and one man figured out that he could will someone else to die in his place.

I believe her more enlightened students appreciated her more then they ever let on because people are not taught how to appreciate a person for who they are because word spread like wildfire in the art department about Goddess Macnabb.

I learned at an early age, when I was in forth grade, that teachers are human too when my teacher, Mrs. Skinner, was out biking one weekend and she came to school with a skinned up knee. It was so weird for me to realize that she didn't stay in the classroom all the time, but from what I understand, all children go through this.

I wrote some of this for her because some things are hard to articulate in words and more powerful in thoughts because she has to believe it if I have written it because she can't disagree with me through a computer screen.

I couldn't have tailor made a better person or instructor and if I could have chosen anyone to be my mother, it would have been her because she is a constant source of amazement and strength to me. She made me realize also that shitty things will always happen to you in your life, and some of the residual is never suppose to disappear, and that's normal, and it's healthy to hurt and mourn those losses.

And it's also OK to be a highly educated and well rounded bitch :)

Wednesday, January 6, 1999

I haven't bathed today. Bea's plane didn't get in until almost 1:30, and it takes about 1:30 to get to Danville from Louisville. I am glad I go to do that for Granny and Pop, and I told Granny I would rather inconvenience me then her so she can finish my suit.

I am so luck and grateful to have them both. Bea said last night how that between the two of them, they can do just about anything. She is grateful to both of them, especially Pop because her husband is gone and if anything ever happens to her, he is right there. He is right there for everyone. I was here last week when Lesli's car broke down (a bad battery cable) and both Granny and Pop went out to pick them up and give them her car and send them on their way.

Tonight was my turn. I had a flat tire (2 in the past 6 months!) and I couldn't get the lug nuts off the damn thingie, so I called Poppa and he came to help me, it's drizzling and fucking cold and he stood on the tire iron just like I did and the fucker didn't budge. I hit a curbÖ I wanted to register for more classes tomorrow so I can qualify for more financial aidÖ I know I don't need it, but I want to know I have it, plus some of it's free money and God Dammit, I deserve all the grants, I have been a good student.

So in case you are wondering, I decided to get my B.F.A., and I am going to learn how to scuba dive. I am excited. I want to learn how to ballroom dance as well, but I got the class I needed. I have Ph.D. Kloner again. He makes my brain hurt from thinking on so many different levels.

Granny finished my suit, and I look FUCKING hot in it. Ally McBeal would have to kiss my ass because I am so curvey. You know, I have been thinking of that show critically, and what a fucking joke. Why can't they make some believably entertaining shows today? They give us shit like Friends. Blech. Just don't even get me started. I am too tight to get cable. I think if the fuckers at the cable company want my business, they really need to update the cable where I live, especially since a) they have updated it in the East end and b) they said they would do it while I was away the second time I was in Russia, almost a year and a half ago. Fuckers.

So I went back to Louisville today to go to traffic court with Melissa. She has never had a ticket and it's kind of scary to go downtown alone when you have never been. I am a pro. No, not a prostitute, I have had many many many traffic tickets. I have gotten out of most of themÖ "I didn't run that stop light, judge. My speedometer was brokenÖ see, I got it fixed."

AhÖ those were the good 'ol days when you could get out of just about any traffic violation. Now they make you not only have proof for having your speedometer fixed, but they still fucking fine you. Bastards. And her court case wasn't dismissed, like mine was. She has to go to day court. What a joke.

I joined some Web RingsÖ I don't know how to feel about that. I did it out of spite to piss my brother off so I could have more hits on this thing because he thinks it's so awful that I am not ashamed of myself and can write about my "inner most personal feelings!"

I think it will be a good thing, although now I feel like I have to consistently update where before, I was just neurotic about it anywayÖ

I find that some of the better decisions I have made in my life were out of spite. The only reason I applied for my B.F.A. was because I saw this fucking loser applying for his and I thought "IF THAT MOTHER FUCKER IS GOING TO APPLY, I'M FUCKING GOING TO AS WELL!!!"

Do you think he got in? Do you think his work sucked and he was just a prick that tormented me because his work was always late and lacking inÖ style and originality? Do I think you really give a flying fuck? No, but I do. Needless to say, his worked sucked and he was REJECTED. I heard him bitching at Suzanne when he was told he wasn't going to get in and I just sat outside the door and laughed my fucking ass off because she was not going to let him in.

The Russian degree, that comes from spite. I hear other people talk about not doing things out of spite, but I think it's perfectly healthy because I have changed so much in an AWESOME way because I was full of rage and I accomplished what I set out to do.

I have never talked about my Russian career. Zack and I started off taking Russian together. I dropped out the first semester of college not only because I was scared I was going to fail out, but because my migraines were acting up. I don't think I was ready for school, to be perfectly honest.

I wanted so desperately to show my dad up since he failed Russian and I hate his fucking gutsÖ I wanted to prove to him I was smarted then he is. I did not know that Russian majors are also ever so slightly insane. I tried to take Russian from the soviet professor, and she made me cry when I would miss a class, I was very immature and was taking everything personally because I had just had brain surgery and was feeling rather stupid because I knew I was different from everybody else and I don't think and I can't learn like everyone else.

We locked horns and fought and fought and I finally relented and went into Photography, but I wasn't about to let this language lick me. I went to Vermont, and I hated every fucking minute of my classes because it was forcible memorization and I didn't learn shitÖ Oh I didÖVue ne znaete gde apeteca? which translates into "Pardon me, would you happen to know where the pharmacy is?" As if I would ever use that fucking phrase when all you have to do is look down the fucking street and see a green sign with a cross and a snake going through it. I would be shamed to use such an obvious phrase.

Anyway, I hated that experience because I hated how fucking pretentious the Russian emigrants were because really, they weren't better then us and if Russia was so great, why in the hell did they emigrate?

So, I thought and thought about it, and since a bunk bed hit me in the head ANYWAY and I was refunded my money, I decided to go to Russia to learn Russian. What a concept! I will never forget the deep seeded culture shock I experienced. I was sick every week but one the first time I went (and I have been relatively healthy since). I cried everyday because I just wasn't getting it.

Then I realized that I can't learn a language the way they were wanting to teach me. I sat out on the lawn on MGU, Moscow State U (where they still were using scythes to mow the lawn and if you sit on the ground, your ovaries will freeze) talking about the differences between America and Russia with my "professor". She was talking about how wonderful MGU was and I was like "It's the same. It's the fucking same as if I were at my school." I thought, only the windows and floor and toilets are all clean and perfectly usable.

After being there the first time, I realized why Americans demolish old landmarksÖ so they won't become next centuries eyesores.

That's also when I realized more and more that an education is the same through out the fucking world. You get what you put into it and if you suck and don't care, you are going to do crappy everywhere. That's also when I thought I should have applied to more schools when I graduated from high school, because I am sure I could have gotten in.

I still never got along with the higher level soviet Ukrainian professor because I would miss class every once in a while because I was overwhelmed sometimes with mom being ill or I would have a headache or just some reason that I couldn't go to class. And plus she would always tell me how wonderful the Russian students were.

And when I came back, I discovered she was wrong, and she could no longer intimidate me because I knew what it was really like to study over there. Russian students cheat like dogs. They are not taught so much how to think freely, but are taught concepts that are time honored and bad (in my opinion)Ö I don't feel comfortable talking about this totally because America has it's problems in our Universities as well.

OKÖ I'm exhaustedÖ wow that's an entry that is still open ended...Ö

Thursday, January 7, 1999

Merry Christmas in Russia. Today is their holiday.

I woke up to the sound of Granny's Pfaff whining, making my gray dress. There is one thing that I have noticed in my few short years on this planet and that is that Germans make the best machinery on the planet.

Germans are so anal and meticulous about their gadgets. Granny's sewed with her machine since Mom was in her second year of high school. She paid a little over $300 for her machine and she was maybe making $50 a week.

I have watched her pull many a ream of clothing through the feed plate. I wish I could know how to sew just from watching because if that were the case, I would also be a master seamstress. She has only had two people work on her machine and she knows how to work on it herself.

It's snowing outside, steadily. Not in the beautiful, delicate way of a few nights ago, but forcefully as if it will never quit. A constant barrage of white, the kind that sneaks up on you and all of a sudden you look outside and the land is covered so you can't see the rocks underneath nor the grass. I remember when it was once safe to eat the snow and mix it with sugar, Vanilla flavoring, and milk into a creamy free frozen delight, but thanks to environmental disasters such a Chernobyl, that is a thing of the past. Although I am beginning to believe it doesn't matter because that shit is in the air anyway.

I feel so very fucking sexy in my new dress. I just feel sexy period lately, even though my face looks bad now and my hair needs to be cut.

My camera is German. I learned early that anything worth a damn is made in Germany since my father was obsessed with his Porsche. "I'm going to be buried in that thing." I remember him joking one day, realizing he loved that fucking car more then he would ever love me.

I told Granny another great Dad moment last night. Dad had us doing chores when we first lived with him, and he never showed us how to do it but just expected us to know. Well about this time I was beginning my rebellious teen years, I think I was 13 and I can see it as if it happened yesterday, remembering the stench of the garbage as it sat next to the door in the garage.

"Dad, I need some money."

"Um, you haven't done your chores this week. No." Which was a fucking lie. Maybe I didn't do them everyday, but I fucking did them or suffered the consequences of his tormenting anger.

"Dad, I really need some money." I almost said in tears.

He was getting in his Porsche to go to Reserves, wearing a tee shirt and blue jogging pants. He retired as a lieutenant Colonel from the 100th division. He looked up at me, dead-pan "No."

"DAD, I NEED TO BUY SOME TAMPONS!" My mom didn't have any money and it was Friday and I was going to her place. He thought I was hitting him up for the weekend to go skating or something.

He looked at me and saw the tears in my eyes and whenever he expresses anger or emotion, he turns bright red. He looked like he was going to explode. He reached in the back of his car in his case and pulled out $10 and threw it at me. I don't think he ever wanted me to grow up but to stay the sweet little girl that submitting to his every bitch. It was when I started learning that my feelings fucking mattered and my mouth was as powerful as his did it start to get even uglier. I hated living with him, especially when I returned from living with Granny for a year.

All those years of being abused and still knowing that he had that capacity within him made me feel very uncomfortable to be near him. I hated eating dinner with him and I hated asking anything from him, which is why I probably have the same problem today.

I hate asking anything from anybody, but man it sure is nice being able to have a sexy dress, and knowing when I get stranded at Wal Mart there is someone there to rescue me (They went and got my car this morning as I slept). I told Granny last week that we still need them and ever since thenÖ it's like a wave of relief washed over both of them. They are still needed so that means that they still have a purpose and they will still be loved. Everyone knows how much we need Granny and Pop, and everyone knows how much they need one another.

Pop has suffered from heart attacks and Cancer, because of Granny he is alive today. Granny had an aneurysm and she lived because of Pop and her baby needed her too. They live in the hearts of everyone that knows them and this is the person I strive to be, to touch those I come in contact with down to their core so they know me, even though I am a bitch.

I tried to get mom to understand that it didn't matter who showed or didn't show to her funeral, it was that she was loved and cared for by just about everyone she knew. She had people praying for her all over. She was an art teacher so she dealt with people hundreds of people on a regular basis. Her students won awards. One even won an international award.

She tried to teach me how to draw when I was 8. I hated her for trying to teach me and I don't remember why. She kept changing my lines, that's why. You can't do another artist's work for them, they have to feel it on their own. You can only guide them and she wanted me to do it her way instead of expressing myself naturally.

But I found something she could not excel in and she encouraged me to do it, which is photography. Maybe that one lesson is why I feel I don't draw all that great although thinking about it now I know differently. I have that eye though, and it's a lot easier to use it then it is to draw.

Granny is working on my next jacket. I will be a well dressed fucking sexy cunt now. The 3 dresses she is making me are wrap-around dressesÖ so, you knowÖ easy access and all. There is just something to be said about such things, and I will smile to myself as I wear these dresses because it just makes me feel soÖ

SoÖ like I am going to go out and eat vanilla snow despite the fact there is junk in it.

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

I stood in line with my arm around Pop's, trying to somehow keep the overwhelming feeling of nausea at bay. I looked around at faces I have never seen before, except for two.

Didi, one of mom's best friend's from high school had been at mom's funeral, but that whole day and moment in time is an indistinguishable blur of people and colors that exist in my mind. I remember mom telling me how Didi made fun of her for going to college. She and her husband got married and bought furniture instead. It could have been a different friendÖ I can't think of her name but I know it was this other woman nowÖ Judy.

Who was Didi to my mother and why do I remember her name? I can not recallÖ

We proceed closer and closer. There is a line all the way to the front door. I see his face and my face flushes with heat. I look away trying really fucking hard to eat back my emotionsÖ Poppa keeps talking about the crown molding in the room and how a drunk did it. It is very nicely done and very clean and neat. I take a deep breath and look around at the other nameless faces and feel somewhat comfortable and at home because this is my culture.

Swollen, puffy eyes gaze around the room seeking out somethingÖ

Suzanne said that she is glad she isn't me at this point in my life. A college graduate with a dead mother. I think it's much worse for Pop and Granny though, all their friends are dying. They report of a new one at least once a month.

Then I get the strangest sensation... my ovaries are screaming.

I look around the room again and feel a solitary tear fall down my right cheek. I look into the casket and see a man that I have never known, but that doesn't mean I can't feel the current of grief and compassion of losing someone I have for Didi, one of mom's best high school friends because it is her son that I am staring at. A family picture sits upon his casket and my heart falls. I do not know Didi's husband, I don't recall him coming to mom's funeral.

We find Didi in the lounge, smoking a cigarette. I go down to hug her and lose it and just start bawling because I know the hurt of what's to come in the next few months.

"January isn't a good time of the year for us."

If I had thought about it, I would have been a smart ass and said it was a great way to start the year or something equally as funny to people that find such things amusing, but I could only do it with my mom since she was my mother.

"He never smoked (he was a thin man)Ö Here me and his father smoke up a storm andÖ The sounds start to blend again.

I find myself outside again and tears are streaming down my face as we walk to the car. The freezing air turns those areas on my cheek into pockets of cold flesh, but the blood beneath my skin starts to warm them again once I am in the car. I think of mom all over again and can't believe she is gone.

He was just 32.

Friday, January 8, 1999

Misery pelted the earth and took away the beautiful pristine landscape that was the view yesterday. Now the earth was visible, and all the drab color accentuated by misery brought a blah to my soul.

As I drove, the drab earth gave way around Waddy to a mystical haze caused by misery still pelting the snow that refused to melt. It entranced me the rest of my journey as I listened to the tape Zack made fore me. Around the city limits, the mist gave way to a dense fog and I knew I was back home and had to resume my life of taking care of myself.

I felt sacrilegious taking my new clothes from my grandmother, not just because I was leaving the shire, but because these clothes are works of art in and of themselves. I hurt as I drove away, like I did when I was 19 and single back then. I felt like I was leaving a chunk of my heart behind and that it was wrong of me to leave, but that feeling subsided the further I drove and started thinking about my life that awaits me here.

I was prepared to watch Colin tonight, but Melissa was having car problems and didn't go to work. We sat around and talked for many hours. I told her what I would like from a man would be kind of what we have, and what I have with Zack and she told me she never felt at ease like that with a man, and I agreed.

It's the undefinable. Those feelings you have when you know it's just not right. I have only felt so totally comfortable with so few people. I wish I could feel calm and at home with just about everyone, but it's never so easy.

God, I almost hate being stuck in such a young body because I feel so many pieces of me are so mature and what I seek from a man can only come from someone that is enough like me to understand we are both different, but we can be together and enjoy one another. Maybe it's a lost concept.

I thought of Jacinta all night, because I want to go out and was happy to see her number on my caller ID when I walked in the door. I called her immediately and she asked if I wanted to go out and so I have to go...

Saturday, January 9, 1999

Last night was a marvel to my existence.

Sabel (a girl I had a dream about many moons ago), Jacinta, and I are all sitting around a table speaking in Russian to one another, slowly getting more intoxicated off one another's enthusiasm for plans this summer, and the shots of Jim Beam don't hurt.

This is the only kind of clique I fit into any longer and feel comfortable.

Jacinta's parents, her mom is Peruvian and her father is Puerto Rican. Sabel is Turkish and I am the only whitie girl I know in this concoction of people. They come from all over the world, this group of friends I Sometimes, I want to apologize for my being so cracker white.

We sit around and dream of what Istanbul is like, and Sabel's best friend lives in the South of Turkey. She told Jacinta and I that she would take us around Istanbul and have a rocking time. Her father is a diplomat and her parents are living in Moscow. How she ended up in Kanfuckme is beyond me at this point.

Most foreigners just come here to study.

But sitting at the table, and just talking to one another and relating made me feel so good, like I was a part of something special.

I told Jacinta how much I loved her again and again and how much I have missed her. We fell out over something so idiotic, but we kissed and made up and it's like we need one another to appreciate our certain sort of drive for living. We lived together over a year, I think, but now that's all a blur.

I can't do last night justice A moment in time I will cherish for myself.

However I today, after trying to find Jacinta's keys (she had to sleep over and we talked and talked).

Sunday, January 10, 1999

I lost my hat... it wasn't all that special, but I bought it a year ago when I was in Chicago after mom died, so it was special to me.

I have been feeling kind of down all day, more so then usual and then I saw the date on Andy's clock. Today was the day Anne (my baby sister), was diagnosed with leukemia 8 years ago. And it's Sunday.

I received a rejection letter from a web-ring that stated my journal was too depressing to be admitted. I am beginning to wonder if I should have even bothered submitting. I know I don't really fit in anywhere.

I try to have "rays of sunshine" in my life, but I have been through too much at this point in my life to be so ignorant to life's realities. I know it can always get worse, because for while in my life, it seemed life would never get better. And maybe, that's what I am waiting for, for everything to all fall apart at the seams all over again so I can piece the fragments back together again.

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

I called Anne and talked with her. She didn't think anyone remembered. I don't know how you could forget such a date. She also eased my soul about all the many strange things going on in my life.

I talked to Eric earlier, he was mad at me for not saying nasty things in my journal because I told him ever since I had a little problem with Lisa about a year ago, I honestly was hesitant about talking about anyone else, but I am beginning to believe that doesn't matter now because all the people I am friends with know about my journal.

But there is a line, and besides, this is about me and how I react to certain situations.

Well, every time I hear Madonna's Frozen, I can't help but think of the live sex show I went to in Amsterdam.

Monday, January 11, 1999

So, did you ever notice how far our cultural roots are grounded in the past? I can't stand history, maybe it was because I wasn't a part of it or because there is nothing I can do about it or because I can only witness what I know and understand for myself.

If you read about The History of Love and Sex, you will see many of the attitudes that prevail today in our own culture. It's not just the city/state system that America adopted, but some of their attitudes about sex, mixed in with Victorianism. Yuck.

Tuesday, January 12, 1999

Tomorrow is Priscilla's birthday, or I should say the 14th, but since I haven't heard from her in a while, I suppose it just really doesn't even matter any longer.

I want to write and write and write here, and I feel like I have been falling short these last couple of days. I don't know if I have just allowed myself to be intimidated... but I think that's all about to change.

So we are coming to the end of finishing my mother's estate. Thomas spent 13K on bullshit that I am not going to allow him to get away with. I mean, that 13K should have been split evenly through all 4 of us, no, Lesli should have gotten the most and then Anne and I and he shouldn't have gotten a dime since he will be getting $850 a month for the rest of his life.

He's such a prick. I think the last time I actually gave a fuck about him what when his married "girlfriend" was talking smack about him and he was doing her fucking homework so she could graduate from college. What a god damn moron. First of all, I think that kind of cheating is awful and when I was in eighth grade I was busted for that by Mrs. Hyde, the science teacher.

I had given my notebook to a boy in the sixth grade and his mother found it and turned us in. Instead of writing a disciplinary for what was bad behavior, Mrs. Hyde had the foresight to (I imagine) treat me as one of her kids and forced me to do a project outside of class on clouds. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me because I didn't just get a slap on the wrist, I was humiliated and I had to learn something in the process.

Anyways, he was doing this work for this dumb cunt and she was talking about what a fucking loser he was and it pissed me off. I can talk smack about people I know because I know where they are coming from, but I'll be damned if anyone else can talk smack about him (this was just at the time, since mom was still alive and now I could give a fuck what you say about him) especially since he was doing this cunt's work.

We had a really bad fight and I told him that she was a bitch and I called her names and he was so mad at me, he stood there and yelled at me saying all kinds of hateful things because he refused to believe me. I think he actually believed she would leave her husband and come be with him, what a child. She even got pregnant again and he continued to believe her fucking lies.

So as he was standing there yelling at me, I looked at him and I was crying, and I said to myself "He will never make me feel this way again. I am putting him in the same dark place in my heart where all the feelings I have for my father now reside." And ever since then, I really could give a shit if he falls off the face of the planet. Especially now with all the evil things he has done to us.

My grandmother even called him Satan.

Well, this mess is about to be over. There are all kinds of crimes, but I think he has committed the gravest of all and that is a crime against blood and crimes against the heart. I do believe in Karma, once again, and I now believe that what comes around will come back and bite him in the ass harder then he ever imagined...

Wednesday, January 13, 1999

So, last night I had the hardest time falling asleep. I couldn't figure out why I was in so much pain.

I stayed home yesterday because I had a migraine from hell. I missed aerobics even. So Andy came by and woke me up. He was hungry and wanted to take me out to eat, but I was sick and I didn't want to move. Then I couldn't go back to sleep. So I stayed up and worked on my computer.

Andy fell asleep on the floor. Because he left so early from work, his boss was worried about him and he called around 7. Andy woke up and was going to leave but I was hungry. I got ready and called Jacinta and asked her if she was hungry and she told me Sabel invited her to dinner at Oldenburg. There was a going away party of a guy I had seen every once in a while here on campus. He did not want to leave, I could tell.

It was weird, in a way. I was excited with being around so many people. He was from the United Arab Emirates. Just about everyone at that table was from a different country. It was like a mini meeting of the UN (Algeria, Turkey, US, United Arab Emirates) It was just an exquisite night, and I socialized and spoke with so many people.

I think it started off to be a small group of people, and I forgot to count how many people were there when it was all said and done, but we had about 10 rectangle tables end to end, as if we were worthy of being in king Arthur's court. At least 40 people and there were 7 more that came in after we did. Jacinta, me, Andy and Carol... Carol is just a lovely girl with a typical Latin American flair (typical in that she is so sensual and lovely). I sat there and squealed "Ow!" after sitting for so many hours. I fell down on the ice when I went to get the mail and nailed myself on a concrete planter in the ribs as I fell. I discovered about a week and a half ago that I have this horrid fear of ice. So that makes two things now. Heights and ice. I hate them both.

I think the thing that scares me the most is falling down steps because I used to watch my sister just about once a month to no avail launch herself down the stairs before school. I remember once we were on our way and I was excited about her going with me and then there she was, sledding down the steps, her hair perfectly coffied and curled flying all over the place. She couldn't go to school that day because she hurt herself so bad.

So now I am scared of falling down steps. Especially if they have ice. But I didn't fall down steps, I had made it all the way down and didn't see the patch of ice, it was so warm last night.

Thursday, January 14, 1999

Dear white trash sister in law of mine:
I did not even bother reading your rant in my guestbook due to the fact that I knew it came from you and you are such white trash that your opinion doesn't mean shit. Two phrases that caught my eye before I figure out it was you were:

At least my brother loves me.

I am so glad my brother loves you because the only reason I called you after mom died was so that you would take care of Thomas, and I must admit, you have done a fine job of that. I don't know what we would have done without you because when you went back to your fiancee and left him alone for 2 weeks, he was driving us all mad with his diseased rantings.

I thank you for taking care of this problem. But on the other hand, I did not anticipate that you were just as sick as he and are willing to believe

The FBI has contacted me.

I don't know why you honestly believe that the FBI would have the time to spend on worrying about a piss-ant such as yourself or my brother and his psychotic rantings. I have heard NOTHING from that agency and more then likely WILL NEVER HEAR FROM THEM. Give up your delusion now.

Why, I bet they looked up his record and saw that supposedly he could have potentially gone to prison for credit card fraud, saw that he has been arrested previously, knew that he and Mark broke into my computer account and decided for themselves that he is just one sick individual and the only reason he is doing any of this is because he mistreated his mommy and now he feels guilty.

Now I know it's hard to accept the fact that you once told me Thomas had a little dick and now it looks like you are going to be stuck with it for the rest of your life, But you are shallow, and I know that his money, (OH MY GOD, WHAT AM I THINKING? THAT'S OUR MONEY, silly me) is compensation for your troubles. But what are you going to do when the money runs out?

One of my friends (gee, amazing that I have more then one, unlike you) read your little rant and she said the only thing worth noting from your juvenile bullshit was that I should quit mailing your brother. Well, Lisa, it took two to tango. I was content leading my miserable little life without your or I should say Psycho Pump's interference for the rest of my life. But then you had to interfere in my life, and that just ever so slightly disheartened me.

I will e-mail your brother until the cows come home because it is my right. I can do whatever I want because this is a free country. As a matter of fact, I noticed that your mother is still working on 4th street and if you don't leave ME alone, I will pay her a little visit and tell her what a slut you were in high school, just like Psycho took it upon himself to tell my grandparents whatever it is he pleased.

No, I don't think I will do that, but instead, drop by with a plate of cookies and say I just wanted to visit and see how she is doing since I no longer have a mother and am concerned for her welfare.

Thank God your brother loves you, since there are only two of you. All I have to console me are my 2 sisters and my grandparents, and they are worth more to me that that worthless piece of shit you let fuck you whenever you need a floss. OH, I also have two lovely nephews and a wonderful brother in law, how could I forget them? I know they love me because Noah called me on the phone yesterday to tell me. Of all the psychotic things your husband has done, threatening the life of these two children has sickened me the most.

I will be happy to leave you alone, I am not the one signing your guestbook or calling your grandparents trying to get them to hate you for just being human. When he leaves me alone, I will leave your family alone, I mean it's just fair, don't you think? No one calls him and he is the one that has to put everything into any relationship he has. Thank God he has so many friends to take the burden off.

I can't believe I cared enough about you once to clean up your shit. I guess that's what my friendship was with you, always cleaning up your shit. It's nice to know that you not only have to clean up mine now, but you are married to it, and once this thing is over, you are stuck with him and there is no other recourse. I'm just glad that you have money or your parent's house that you paid for with your car wreck money so he can do to you what he is doing to us now.

(ps are You SURE you don't want to go on Jerry Springer? I hear he pays his guests and you two will soon be needing the money so neither one of you has to get off your asses and work. Are you sure?)

Friday, January 15, 1999

I have had the most amazing no... wonderful no... FABULOUS last two days. It all started off at class on Wednesday. Kloner and Zigler's class fucking rocked as usual and I am glad I am enrolled because I need this kind of stimulation.

I met the most wonderful woman in class, and we hit it off and we talked and talked and talked some more. We went out to dinner, and she remembered my censorship ordeal and she felt it was so wrong, but then she had to quit going to school so she could afford her custody battle.

At the pizza place where we ate, after we were done, I recognized the owner and we started talking to one another and he had said he lived in Ca. I was like "Did you live near Monterey?"

"No."

"Were you in the military?"

"No."

"You didn't study Russian..."

Turns out that his employee standing behind him was in the military, studied Russian in Monterey (which is a major language institute) and was in the military. So this means the psychic vibes are picking up, me thinks.

I told her how important it is not to talk bad about her ex, no matter what he is doing to her, because when her son is old enough, and if she is still doing the right thing, that he will realize that his dad is a fuck on his own and all this shit he is putting him through now was just out of meanness.

So, she is living in Western Ky now and it was getting late and I just told her to come stay the night. It was like a slumber party because we talked and related so well with one another. I can't even remember how much we talked because we talked about so much, and by the time she left I felt like I had known her forever, and I didn't want to let her go because it was just so comfortable to be in her presence.

I don't recall ever being able to relate to someone like that off the bat and just felt so good. It was almost like being hooked on a drug. We ate at Lynn's yesterday morning and I was giving the waiter all kinds of grief because he was so good looking. Naturally he was married. But he had this cool pen and after he said "my mom gave it to me" I had to have it. I told him that if he gave it to me it would mean a lot to me because my mom can't give me a pen anymore. We went back and forth and he finally relented.

I told Margaret you can get just about anybody to do anything you want if you are honest and kind.

Then we went to a consignment store and I bought myself a beaver. So I have this dark beaver hat to go on my head that is so soft and I paid just $10. She called me out for being too hard on myself, and I have worked so hard on not being hard on myself and I realize that I have a ways to go. I also found this kick ass red velvet shirt made in Italy in the sixties or fifties with scalloped edges that fits me perfect. We had fun there and I asked the owner if we could come through her racks and try and organize some of these clothes and get paid in clothes because there are just way too many clothes. The racks are ridiculous and if I were to want to consign some of my clothes, I would never take them there because you would never see them. Margaret collects vintage clothing, so she was surprised when I asked that the lady said "sure... Let me think about it and come back next month when the season changes."

We left and she brought me back her e and took of to Indiana to see her boyfriend.

Then Zack showed up. I was so happy to see him and I just love him so much, but since his grandmother had brain surgery the day before, I wasn't too keen on the reason why he was here, especially because when he saw everything they had done to her and realized how dangerous it was first hand, he started asking me questions about mine. It made my heart ache. I don't want to think about having brain surgery in the future too much, plus I kind of like the "ignorance is bliss" route. When he started asking me questions about it, though, I wanted to start crying because I don't want anyone I care about to have to go through half of the things I have been through.

Although I do appreciate the people that have been through them. I went on the most AMAZING date last night. It was the absolutely best date I have ever been on in my life. Dan is so handsome and so interesting, in the way that I am interesting. Of all the things that he has been through, what I admire the most about him is that he was the way he took care of his as mother she passed away, also from Cancer.

It was nice to talk to him about when I will start feeling normal again. He was such a source of comfort and he was such a fucking man. Just the way that he handles himself, everything. He owns his own business so he isn't a wimp and he is just a take charge kind of guy and that made me feel all girly. I like men like this because it means they won't put up with a lot of shit, and after all he has been through, I don't think he should.

And he walked me to my car and kissed me good night. Oh, that just made me crazy because that means I don't have to make any moves. I hate being the initiator because I have had to do it so much so it's nice to be with a man for a change.

Naturally I am scared of rejection (although the guy I went out with the other day wrote me and told me I wasn't his type and I was so relieved), I think we all are, and this is one guy I want to see again, although if I don't, then I have this wonderful night where I can remember I had the perfect date.

WOW... what a man. The only thing that honestly scares the living fuck out of me is he was born the day before my father, who is a Pisces, and my mom was a Gemini, like me. And even though a lot of people believe that is malarkey, I kind of put weight in that but I take comfort in knowing our sun and moon stars are most likely not the same as our parents. His mom was also a Gemini, so it will be easier to relate to him in many ways.

I am so excited. I don't think a man has ever impressed me so much. I hope I get to kiss him again.

Saturday, January 16, 1999

I spent the day with my family today. It was so nice. Anne drove down from Lexington and Pop and Granny were here from Danville for a while. Anne was afraid Pop was going to be mad at her for quitting her job, but he told her otherwise, and in a manner which none of us could have anticipated in a million years.

There are few things that Granny totally enjoys in this life, and one of the main thing that makes her immensely happy is Noah. Noah will be 2 on the day after Valentine's day, and he' finally saying everyone's name.

Well, Granny gave us all a something little special today.

Anne wasn't there long before they left. Lesli was going a little stir crazy so she suggested that go to the little cafe in Crestwood and buy a picnic since it was so lovely outside. I asked her if I should bring my coat and I think it was all enthusiasm on everyone's part that the park wouldn't be cold, but it was still the middle of January even though when the sun was shining it was over 50 degrees.

We hungrily ate our food and it was just heavenly. I wish I remembered the name of the cafe...

Last night I was at Melissa's. I picked Colin up from day care and as soon as he saw me where they had him sitting he got the big goofy baby grin on his face and that totally melted my heart. I can't believe he knows I belong to him.

I also can't believe how my relationship with Melissa keeps getting better and better. I never thought that I could have a decent relationship where people weren't always using me.

When I a girl, I was the one everyone picked on because Dad didn't keep us dressed appropriately. We were kids and we were going to out grow our clothes, so why bother getting us any clothes if we weren't going to wear them long. I had dresses in fifth grade I wore in the third, and I can remember one purple dress Anne use to wear that showed her ass. I know some of my clothes fit me the same way, and I thought we never had enough money to buy clothes.

But I remember dad's extensive liquor collection, Anne learned to mix drinks before I think she knew how to write in cursive. Anyways, he bought a camel hair coat when I was 10, for over a thousand dollars. My shoes didn't fit and I thought since we went out and bought him something nice, that we were going to get some new clothes too, but that didn't happen.

So, I didn't have clothes that covered my ass, my parents were divorced and my dad would bring a secretary home every couple of years, I was a little Tom Boy and for my 10th birthday, he bought me a boy's dirt bike... but for Anne he bought a girl's bike. There was no real female figure at home to admire and he treated the ones he had like garbage. The other ones, or the military cunt he fucked tried to bring order into a chaotic household... He ended up fucking around on her and she caught him in the act.

I think my favorite one had to be the one that was just 3 years older then me, though. One year older then my brother. She was a gem. I tried to talk to her once, but she was brain dead. I think she thought she was going to be our step-mother when I could have told her he was just using her for sex.

Maybe this is where I get my wondrous outlook on relationships.

So, Dad had clients that became his friends. That's the only way this man can make friends, I am convinced. One of his clients had a step daughter that was a year older then me and that woman treated me so bad. She didn't want to be seen in public with me because some dumb cunt named Wendy (whose dad blew his brains out) told her that I wasn't worthy of her friendship because I was "scum." But it was OK to be friends with my little sister, she wasn't scum. (where is the fucking logic? Adolescents just fucking suck.)

I think of these fucking losers I went to school with and I know from the grapevine not even half of them are as accomplished as me. So, I have all kinds of horror stories when it comes to this cunt, but my favorite was when she was fucking this redneck and they broke up and she told him that I wouldn't fuck him and damn if she wasn't right. He was the skankiest mother fucker I had ever laid my eyes upon and they made me listen to the song (my first experience with Rap)Does she suck a good dick? Today, I wouldn't flinch, but back then I was such a prude.

He tried to kiss me and I was so repulsed, plus he fucked my best friend at the time and that's just disgusting. She did all kinds of disgusting things. She would try and make me kiss her when I would spend the night and I would tell her to shut up and go to sleep. She used to sit on her electric razor and get off. (it's not that I am repulsed at the thought of kissing a girl, it's just that she was gross and I just like giving head more, men are what are attractive to me...)

When she lost her virginity, she came to my dad's house and begged me for a skirt to wear because she wore a blue jean skirt and it was covered in blood. She asked for a towel for her car and when I saw it, it looked like someone had been murdered. It's a good thing her car was maroon...

Anyways, after years of putting up with this shit, when she finally decided to get married she didn't want me in her wedding, and that just fucking hurt more then anything. I wanted to die. I finally told her to fuck off then. I didn't even have any desire to go to her wedding.

Last I heard she moved to Florida and her parents followed her and she bred. I remember when she was 13 and her mother had a baby, she went nuts. She would take the earring out of her ear and put it in between her fingers and hit her baby brother.

Mom never liked her, Tina was her name. I thought for the longest time that how she treated me was normal, since my dad also abused us. I wasn't sure there was any other rhyme or reason to it, I just knew that was my life, and I didn't have the skills to change anything.

It hasn't been until Melissa that I realized that I don't have to be abused.And that I don't have to be such a people pleaser all the time. She takes me bitchy, she takes me sad, she accepts me the way I think everyone deserves to be accepted... I told her last night everyone needs a Melissa (and a Zack) in their life. She always has the best advice and she always knows how to keep me from exploding. She listens to the injustices I go through and offers her opinion in a quiet manner. She just means so much to me and sometimes, I don't feel like I deserve to be treated in such a manner because I am used to being treated like shit.

But that is changing. I won't do it anymore, and it seems I am allergic to shallow people, I think it's a disease and I hope to god I am never infected.

I don't think I can be at this point in time. I think being shallow is in relation to how much you have had to suffer and how well you face your demons. I finally realized the other day that it doesn't take a mastermind to manipulate people, and as a matter of fact, people that have to do that are really immature. It's too much work to keep up those manips, and I just don't have the time to bother with it nor do I feel the desire. Although, sometimes I can fall back into that pattern with Andy, but he recognizes it now and isn't so inclined to do whatever I say.

Fuck, I have been writing forever and I want to go out. Later.

Sunday, January 17, 1999

I smell fresh and clean like everyone should. I just bathed a bath of the gods... hot, spicy, and fragrant with girl. I think you can give me any Back to Basics product and I will be so happy. It smells heavy, and it';s a scent that forever clings to damp, cold hair. I used Cortex conditioner because I noticed a number of split ends the other day.

Who does that industry think they are kidding, like you could ever fix damaged hair. The only thing you can do to fix that is to cut that over- processed matted shit off your head. I had to do it. I never knew what color my hair was until I was 23 or 19 again.

My mom had me coloring my hair by the time I was 13, no, not coloring, bleaching. That is the nastiest thing you can do to yourself, although I still feel the need to have porn star white hair. I think she wanted to torture dad even more by shoving me in his face, an identical woman to her only I kept on weight. When I look at a woman that bleaches her hair now, I think to myself "How lovely, not only do you have dead cells on top of your head, but now they are fried and it makes you look stupid." But that's only in extreme cases. If it's subtle and good, and doesn't fry your hair, then it can look pretty awesome. I can't do that, my hair is too fine.

Anyway... I had the most amazing evening. I feel the need to fall into a habit of partying with Jacinta. I talked with her on the phone last night. It's like we never weren't friends. It scares me in a way because it's more perfect then before.

But I talked with her on the phone Friday when I first heard my mother on tape I took our of my machine. She heard me crying, and I wasn't crying because I missed her, I was crying because I will never get another message like that again, and I hope I have another tape floating around with her on it because I remember thinking "Mom won't be alive much longer... I better just save what I can..."

So I met them at Julian's. It was so fucking crowded that at first they wouldn't let me in, so I had to wait until someone came out. I stood there for a few, then I walked around trying to spot Jacinta or Marie. Marie is French. I didn't see them, and then a guy came out and I couldn't figure out why there were people standing outside staring in the windows. I thought maybe there was a porn that people could see or something like a live sex show, but it was just Mike Tyson beating the shit out of some fucking dumb cracker white boy.

I mean, if you harbor delusions that you are going to kick Mike Tyson's ass, think the fuck again. I think boxing is the only sport where you can see two men kissing after one beats the living fuck from one inch of his life. Now I would have paid to see Mike Tyson rape that man after the fight. That would have been interesting. Especially after seeing them slobber all over one another.

(I wish I could box. I think I would be good at it, the only problem I would have, besides having brain damage already, is that I suffer from carprel so when I use to beat the shit out of my punching bag, my wrists were fucked up for a week. Besides, I don't want to be slobbering on some bitch that I just kicked the shit out of, that's just wrong.)

I say we fucking go back to the old-fashioned decapitating of the French Revolution, no... Let's go back to fucking ancient Rome and instead of feeding Christians to the lions, we feed fucking criminals.

I had a fight with the German boy about capitol punishment. He was all girly and like "Oh, that's horrible, have you seen Dead Man Walking?"

I was like "Fuck no." I don't want to see that fucking movie and have compassion for criminals, because my fucking dad represented those stupid fuckers and if they were stupid enough to get caught doing something wrong... then they fucking deserve whatever they get.

This is the way I was raised, but I don't believe that some crimes are justifiable with jail time. Like I think Child Molesters should be put to death, do not pass go, do not have the honor of breathing the same fucking air I do. I learned in my sex crimes class that those fuckers are never reformed and why should they be allowed to spread their disease into the rest of the population?

Thank God my brother has no social skills.

I saw some special on Hitler when I got to Andy's tonight and updated my journal from there. What a sick bastard. I mean, if you can get a following of people that are under the influence of mass hysteria, what the fuck can't you do?

That's how the fucking American media controls us.

They only tell us about the bad things that happen around the world so you believe that America is the best fucking country on the planet, and some things are good, but this shit going on with Clinton, what a fucking joke.

"I'm getting impeached for having my cock suckled." What other kind of fucked up people on the planet would consider such shit but ELECTED OFFICIALS.

Those are the stupid bastards we elect to run the country... Hello??? Are you paying attention to what you are doing? We sent a dumb cunt to the House this year that voted to impeach Clinton. What, she's never given head to anyone but her husband? Yeah, right. How the fuck did she get elected in the first place? You know she was sucking someone's dick.

And don't get me started on Mitch McConell... I saw that bastard when I was a senior in high school and his fucking head was so bald and shiny that the glare off his forehead almost blinded me. He acted so prime and proper... I wanted to fucking heave. Who do these people think they are kidding? They shit just like the rest of us.

I saw Hillary on a fucking book tour and I wanted to barf. I thought she was a real fucking hard-core feminist, and as she was promoting her fucking book she was basically saying "Stay barefoot and pregnant so you won't ever understand what life is about since you spend so much time raising your family in a village." OK, maybe she wasn't that bad, but I thought she was going to have fire coming out of her cunt or something... That she was the devil herself when she was just like a neutered choir boy. I was so disappointed because I wanted so desperately to BELIEVE she was a bitch, a role model to me, but she reminded me of my grandmother Clay... tired, and worn. That's what I get for believing the media.

I don't understand how people don't want to see these major holes in our government. When I was staying in Dick's apartment in Moscow, Vlad's American Diplomatic boyfriend, he came home and we were talking and he tried to tell me "The government doesn't have any control over TV... The government can't do anything like control America's fears and phobias through the media..." I wanted to reach up and bitch slap him. He was just trying to deny what he was working so hard to maintain.

I was in ceramics last year and an old copy of The Courier Journal was laying there on the desk to catch glaze and there was ol' Dickie boy's name in the paper on a diplomatic press release on two Mormon boys being kidnaped in bum-fuck Russia. I almost shit in my pants, and of coarse since Americans could give a fuck about what's happening anywhere else but their own little community, then no one could appreciate me and that I lived in this man's apartment in the middle of Moscow, watering his plants for about a month, living right next to a visible toxic dump, but with the most amazing view of the sky as it descended upon the earth in darkness.

No one fucking cared and they were like "oh, that's interesting... how do I keep the bubbles from getting into my clay?"

And you know what pisses me off even more? Fucking Friends. I was following a couple on campus last year or so and they were fucking talking about these people as if they were real, and they breathed, and their lives had meaning, and I wanted to vomit and scream... "WHY AREN'T YOU FUCKING HIM?"

Why the fuck do people have such superficial lives...

And tonight... at Julian's, I saw this dumb cunt I went to middle and high school with, and once because mom's boyfriend buying me and Anne 2 pairs of Guess? Jeans I was going to be accepted in the "cool" club. She was suppose to meet me at the mall and she "had her watch on upside down."

I wish I could let these kinds of scars heal the most, but then I think about what fucking losers those assholes were to me and I have to force myself to be better then them, but very disarming, when I see them in such situations and say shit like "Oh, I'm getting my B.F.A. (big fucking attitude by Bil Brown's definition) in photo... blah blah blah... AND A B.A. IN RUSSIAN..." So I am not a dumb fuck like you. I have done things with my life you never can and never will do, so who can't meet my fucking standards now?

"I took photography when I was at UK, but only one semester... it wasn't what I expected (a lot of work)... it was more fine arts."

Translation: I saw photography on the list and thought "cool, now I can be a photographer" but then when I got a C because my work sucked, and I wanted to stay in the soriety house so I could service guys instead of WORKING, I decided it was too much for me to deal with, so I got a Psych degree. (I have mostly A's and B's in photography, which is a feat because I busted my fucking ass... OK, and so every once in a while, I would fuck in the dark rooms, but who didn't?)

It's a rare person that can meet my standards, or even make me say "WOW, you are so amazing!" Jacinta is one of them, because she lived in Russia for a year... even in the fucking winter... blech... in fucking St. Petersburg!!! I would never do that, and we both know it, so I admire her more for that reason, but then she doesn't know Moscow as well as I do, so she admires me for that reason.

But tonight, I love her even more because since she was on the phone with me last night... and she heard me cry, she kept asking me how I was feeling and if I was having fun, and I knew what she meant... and I told her I was so wonderful because I was out, dancing my ass off (not feeling so bad that I missed both my aerobics classes this week) and drinking from a fucking fish bowl full of ever clear and some Kool-Aid drink with some of the most beautiful people in Louisville.

York, Usie, Sabel, Marie, Jacinta and me. We danced to please ourselves, and we danced with one another, and every once in a while some nasty guy would try to butt in, but we all ignored them.

And I had the time of my life, the missing New Year's, the key to pure enjoyment, and the warmth of a group of people that care for one another. All from different cultures, but coming together as one in a Baccnael delight.

Interlude... this is my mind... it's like a fucking whirlwind that never stops, and I can't control it. Now you can see why when I was 9, I wanted my brain to fall asleep so I could rest.

I start thinking about other brain surgery people... and wondering if it's just a common thread that we have no set concept of time, or that we as a group of people see that life is infinite.

I am slightly pissed. Seems that there is a big Brain group getting together in Florida next week, but since I have plans... I can't go. I am pissed because I would like to go there a whole fucking lot, but I just can't. And I would love to feel Sam again. We have this fucked up connection that I know only other people that have had brain surgery have. We don't have to talk to one another so much, but just be near one another and let our feelings mesh. It's so weird and such a special thing.

Sometimes I think I have read one too many weird books and then I realize that some of the knowledge I have is just innate... I am going to pass out from exhaustion now...

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

I missed my scuba class yesterday because I was enjoying the time with my family. I knew there was somewhere I had to be, but I just couldn't remember. Oh well, I will just go today and find out if everything is cool.

I wish the sun were shining today. It's rather yucky and gray. Keir once said I run hot and cold on people, but if I think of me and relation to Ky weather, I am just like it. Some days I can be unbearably hot and full of atmosphere, other times I am cool and crisp, and you can never tell what our weather pattern is going to be because like yesterday was warm for January, tomorrow it might snow. Then again, it could warm up to 70. I think I am a better weather forecasted then what I see on TV.

Today will be icky and gross, but tomorrow will be bright and sunny with a low in the mid forties. And Tuesday will prove to be a rather bleak day...

I have to be a slut, I have to be a slut, I have to be a slut. I am going slightly mad at this point. No one I know has such an insane sex drive as me and I hate it. Melissa sits and laughs at me and Zack can take it or leave it and it's all I can ever think about. I hate being obsessed with sex. Maybe they are all into it, they are just trying to make me feel like I am a freak for wanting it all the time. I wish I weren't so damn picky. Some guy hit on me last night and he was cute, I was just with my friends. And I don't like going to bars to meet people, although where else can you go?

I wish it were just a lot more simple and you could have nice fling with someone that you enjoyed their company and not have the typical constraints but just enjoy being with one another that way. Not here in Kanfuckme. No, no... Maybe this is why I love aerobics so much, so I can work some of that estrogen... or would it be testosterone out of my system.

Who cares? I need to clean my apartment.

Monday, January 18, 1999

Scuba class is going to rock!!! I am so excited.

Yesterday I got a lot accomplished. I am so satisfied. I need to do laundry, however. I don't have a big heaping bulge of laundry, but I have quite a bit.

I am going to go to Danville because I don't think I will see my grandparents for a while. I am going to be really busy.

But first I need to go to the dive shop and get a doctor's permission note to give to my neurologist so she can tell them it's OK for me to dive with this pocket of air in my head.

The instructor just about lost it. He did not know what to think when I told him I had one in my head. I told him she said it was OK to fly, I can't imagine going underwater would be much more of a danger. The only thing that worries me is the tank hitting me in the back of my head.

But it would be my luck... I think Scuba diving would be one of the most calm and peaceful activities in the world to do. I can't wait. I am going to talk Anne into taking a class too so we can go to Australia or Tahiti and go scuba diving...

OK, I have to go.

Tuesday, January 19, 1999

I didn't sleep well last night.

I wasn't in my bed, and actually, I just realized why I haven't been sleeping like I have in the past, and that's because I have a new bed. My old be I bought from a girl that lived on Dixie Highway, 40+miles away from my mom's house. I bought it used for $200 USD. I remember being so ecstatic about having a waterbed, and it served me well until now. I am just to tired of fucking with it, but I do miss her now because in the winter, I could pump the heater up and feel like I was sleeping in a womb.

I was going to go to class earlier today, but because I was in Danville, and I felt the need to console my grandmother over momma dying. I think there are some things that are just more important then school or even work every once in a while. I stayed until dinner time and ate leftover chicken from last night. It was delicious.

I miss cooking... I used to love to cook. I tried to be the kind of woman to Andy that my grandmother has been to my grandfather, only I found that that is virtually impossible in today's world. Plus I have a hard enough time cleaning up after myself.

So I drove home and almost fell asleep... and got up for aerobics and was early and Melissa was giving me the cold shoulder. I couldn't understand why she was mad at me and then she said "You should have waited!"

Oh FUCK!!! Shit... my car broke down in the middle of FUCKING HUBBARDS LANE AND WESPORT ROAD!!! I didn't know what to do, so I panicked and called her to come help me.

As she was making her way to me, I was trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with my car and then I picked up the battery cable and saw that some one had rigged it with electrical tape so it would stay joined, hence the reason I thought the car was a piece of shit and was having electrical problems.

I thought I was going to die, and I wanted my mommy there so bad because the sun was going down and it was cold and I didn't know what to do and I kept fiddling with the fucker and finally a St. Matthews cop stopped and asked me what was the problem and I looked at him with tears in my eyes and he got out and helped me... (I took a photo of his car lights going nuts against a beautiful pink sunset)

I explained what was wrong and I was still freaking out, he got it rigged so I could move my car out of traffic and I drove to the service station right there... the fuckers couldn't come help me when I was stranded, but...

I realized that the guy who was trying to remedy the problem didn't know what the hell he was doing and some other fuck came up behind him and tried to tell me there were other problems with my car. I drive the fucker, I know what it's limitations are. I know it drinks antifreeze like Andy drinks Mountain Dew. I know her seals need to be replaced because she is leaking oil out of them, and I know she's a decent car.

So I called Melissa back from the service station and told her where I was, which did no good because she was gone, so I just left a message on her machine. She was very pissed off and me and I was just like "whatever" I am sorry that you came to help me and it was fixed... I feel really bad, but nothing so petty is going to affect me this week because in 10 more days, I get to celebrate the one year anniversary of my mother dying.

I felt bad, but what could I do? I looked for her, I did, and I didn't see her, we just had our wires crossed, and this is a bad thing because then you have someone mad unnecessarily. I disarmed her quickly though and she wasn't pissed at me all night, thank fucking god. I just can't deal with that shit, at least not now.

Plus I am not going to live the rest of my life apologizing for making a little mistake, or apologize for being alive, or apologize for being a woman.

My poor cunt... she hurts so fucking bad, and it's just because I am bleeding like no tomorrow. I found out after one of my many pap smears, that I have a tilted uterus, which the doctor said it was going to be harder for me to get pregnant. After talking to Granny, I realized that I inherited this little gem from her.

She tells me stories about what it felt like when she was on her period after mom basically tore her up. She said that when she would menstruate, it would feel like she was falling out, and I feel that way, but I think hers was more literal.

I have always had a problem with my period, and I don't know if it's because my hormones are whacked from that cyst in my brain squishing my pituitary gland into the shape of a jelly bean or if it's just my genes.

Granny did tell me something interesting, and it was what her Dr told her once a long time ago and that was just because you go menopausal, it doesn't mean you won't suffer from PMS. You body will always go through that cycle and you will always crave chocolate and that's just the way life is.

So I was reading his web page and I started crying. He hit a nerve that maybe I thought wasn't so tender and realized that there are other people that were horribly abused besides me. It made me cry and feel so much because I recognize so much of myself in this man's words.

I asked Granny earlier if I would ever quit caring so much for other people or just maybe even not let their hurts and agonies bother me so much, but she said once you feel this way, it's hard not to care.

That bothers me sometimes about myself, caring too much. I can't show anyone that I care, or so much 'prove it' to them except by worrying and thinking about them in the way I had to teach myself.

I can't bet over how much Travis put on his web page because I can't sort through some of the more horrid abuse that I suffer from, and I hated always feeling like such a fucking victim, because I fucking knew there wasn't anything I could do about it then... I had no voice, literally and figuratively.

Funny that I use an active verb. I see that I still suffer from that abuse, I don't let it control my life so much like I use to, but it's still got a hold on me. I don't think you can ever let such things go because they are a fundamental core of your being, and how can you change that about yourself?

How can you ever get to the point where you say "I DON'T FUCKING DESERVE ANY OF THIS SHIT EVER AGAIN!!!!!" and you just let it go? I see myself doing that in small amounts, but I just can't full out say 'fuck this shit' totally and get relief.

I don't think I ever felt relief until I went to Russia, and believe me, that in and of itself is an abuse. It hurts to see people suffering in such magnitudes. It puts life in perspective as well.

Well, I am just exhausted and tonight on Jerry they have a clan Christmas.

Wednesday, January 20, 1999

I STILL HAVE A JOB!!!!

AND I GET TO SCUBA!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am so happy and excited!!! For a little while, I was afraid that I wasn't going to get to, the guy at the scuba store was very doubtful that a doctor would sign off on it, but I knew she would. When I showed up to her office and was talking to Morgan (who is the most awesome office help) she believed Dr. Simon would let me take scuba too!!!

I just can't tell you how relieved I am. I thought "well, Cathy, here's one thing you will never get to do, just because you want it so bad." But I do!!!

I am just in a delightful mood... and today I have class and I get to learn about all kinds of new things!

I went to the fabric store and bought some more wool, since it was on super sale and more buttons in case I lose the ones on my jacket Granny made for me.

It is such a beautiful day here in Kanfuckme too!!! Just bright, sunny, and warm. I almost had to take my coat off.

I am feeling rather bubbly today and I don't know why. Maybe it's those Spring hormones acting up...

I woke up in a pool of blood. I knew I was bleeding all over the place when I first woke up, but I was just so tired I couldn't move. Then I heard a Billie Holiday song come up on my stereo and I woke up. I need to get a cassette player for my stereo. Oh well...

I hate that I am the age I am and I still have bleeding disasters, but it's one of those forces of nature that you can do nothing to stop. I don't know why we try so hard to control what comes naturally.

I was going to talk about how I was brought up racist, but I think I will save that for when I am in a special kind of mood. I didn't like it, and I knew it was wrong when anyone would say anything...

Instead I think I will talk about abuse. Travis's (god, how do you make that word a possessive, I have forgotten) page really has me going. I am excited because as I was reading through it, I was able to say "Oh my GOD! I could never articulate that."

It's like I have found a pulse to something I could never describe myself because it felt like no one could ever comprehend what it was I was saying. Being abused is horrible. I still fall into patterns today that I keep tying to break out of. Like feeling like I don't deserve to be loved, even though I know with my sparkling personality I do deserve the very best life has to offer. And I feel that I shouldn't compromise those values.

I had an Italian and an Azerbaijanie send me dirty e-mails. I didn't understand the Italian one and the guy from Azerbaijan... well, I just wrote back to his 'I wont you' "nu e sto?" Which means so, what the fuck do you want me to do? He couldn't even spell want, OK, now I am getting too funny. I knew that was going to happen...

I LOVE BEING A WOMAN!!!!!!

Thursday, January 21, 1999

I had a really fucked up nightmare. It starred my mom. Thomas was chasing me and was going to beat me for using his Downey, and I ran in my room and mom was laying on my twin bed, dying. I realized there was nothing she could do to protect me. Plus he was being a freak (surprise, surprise).

I am going stir crazy... I think I have been stationary for much too long. I feel like I need to get the fuck out of Kentucky.

I woke up and was just laying there thinking about everything and not moving and my kitty was stirring and he demanded attention. I think he knew I was awake and that I couldn't fake it around him. He kept meowing and bugging me and I just laid there and then he crawled up around my head and I pet him.

It rained really fucking hard last night too. Normally, nothing like that ever wakes me up. I have never really been scared of storms. Anne and Thomas always were. I had a weird dream about being in San Francisco too. I can't remember what that was about, but it was there as well.

PhD. Kloner almost made me puke last night. We were looking at this painting and some of the people that aren't artist or art historians just weren't getting the concept of what he was lecturing about and he kept reiterating himself, and he is so intense that I was concentrating on what he was saying so hard that I started to get overwhelmed. I was excited, because I started to think of what I can do my paper on that I have to do with another chick.

We were talking about Post Modernism and Modernism, what our paper is on and she asked me a bunch of questions and if I knew anything about it because she didn't and I said I did, but it's all in my head and she said "Wow, I am lucky I have you as a partner."

And I thought, yes, you are, but I didn't say anything. I just hope she kicks ass too. Ziegler paired us up, we didn't have a choice. I wanted to work with this one chick that is opinionated and a poly sci graduate. She's from Virginia and she went to the College of William and Mary, which I really wanted to go to when I was in high school because it sounded cool. She told me it wasn't. I really believe her, so I am glad I didn't have that experience myself nor the loans.

I am sure she will be fine and I just thought of how we can use certain pieces to illustrate her points... but I want to run about 60 slides through the projector as I talk so that the images go really fast and people don't have the opportunity to concentrate on what they see versus what I am saying.

I have to go...

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

So... Kloner was lecturing on Taoism. He was talking about how these priests are the ones that are of the hightest order because they always concentrate on the void.

I do that, but with my life. I examine the void, the hurt and the pain, I would like to think most people do, trying to figure it all out. But I am starting to realize more and more that life should always remain a mystery, and it was stupid to ever think there was any kind of science involved...

Life is suppose to be chaotic and unpredictable, that's what makes life worth living because I know when I am bored to death, I really don't feel like I am living all that much. But then again, I never let myself get bored.

Granny once told me when I was about 13 that she read in an article that if you say you are bored, then you are in essence saying that your company is boring, and ever since then, I try not to be bored in any situation I am in, even if I am the one entertaining.

So if you are always examining the big picture... it's really hard to take much of anything seriously, although on occasion, I do.

So I guess I am just getting to the point where I accept myself more and more, and even though I know myself, that doesn't mean I have solve every mystery there is to me to myself. Sometimes, when you don't understand parts of yourself it can make you more alluring, as long as those pieces bring no harm to others and especially yourself.

I now know the big difference between professional aerobics and the shit they are teaching here. The instructor today was just awful. The one where I go is so fucking cool. She didn't do a routine, not really, she just kind of walked us through a bunch of steps, and her cool down sucked.

I spoke long and hard with PhD. Van Ausdale yesterday. After the berating (I wish I could think of a nicer adjective for Kloner's lecture, but I am so fucking tired) lecture in class yesterday, speaking with her was just keeping me more aware in these hyper critical levels of thinking because she was explaining things to me on the many levels. Elizabeth does that, a lot. It's just like she is so intense that she reaches into my subconscious and makes me feel so aware and so alive...

I guess I don't really know what it feels like to be dead, but I know what it's like to be numb, and I will never live my life in that manner again, I hope because now that I feel... I like it too much.

Friday, January 22, 1999

My how time flies...

"Time flies when you are sharing it with a beautiful woman." God, he is just so nice and romantic. I got my second kiss. He makes me all gushy and he is smart and he is not imposing upon my personality and he has been through as much as I have and it's like I don't have to be afraid of expressing myself where before, I always felt uncomfortable.

There is just something about being with someone that has been hurt real bad in similar ways. There are pieces to myself that I choose not to reveal so openly to others because those facets in my personality I feel, can not be appreciated by someone that hasn't suffered.

Lesli is married to Doug, who was born in 63... Anne is dating Doc, and he was born in 63 and Dan was born in 63. Doug said "Ahh... 63 was a very good year." I think I agree.

I like Dan more then just about any guy I have met. He told me he checked out my site and that he didn't and would never read my diary, and that just made me respect him even more because that means he is willing to get to know who I am by just being with me.

Second date and no sex. He cracks me up. I think it's because he is so subtle in some ways and so forceful in others. I am just used to being so forceful all the time that I forget what it's like to be demurs.

I think I know how to torture him with subtitle. We went out to eat last night and I wanted a big juicy steak... so I told him "I am deficient in essential vitamins and minerals."

"How do you know that?"

"Well... Dan, you see... (blush) there are certain things women go through each month..."

"Oh, I haven't had to deal with that for a while since I date older women."

I think that I am glad he has dated older women. He seems much more cultured and refined, and I admire that in people because that is something I strive to be. And just because I am vulgar, that doesn't mean I don't have class, because I also happen to be a realist and realize that we are all animals at heart.

I really like him a lot. And the second kiss... I was burning in the pit of my stomach. A low seeded passion. I suppose I knew the other guys haven't been like this... so I knew I didn't have to act right in order to keep them entertained or impressed with my charms.

Ah... but it is nice to be in the company of a beautiful man when he thinks that you are a beautiful woman...

Friday, January 29, 1999

Mom died a year ago.

I looked out the window as I rode along... feeling the chill of the mountains. If she weren't gone, I wouldn't be here... in LA.

I got to California a week ago... last Saturday, and I have been so busy. I am having the time of my life.

Zack and Syndy got here yesterday. This whole time has been so fucking surreal. But the drive from San Francisco to LA was just amazing.

Were are at Jenny's now. She lives in Marina del Rey. I was at Conni's most of the week and I made it out to Oakland and met Mike Jasper's sister, Kelly. It has just been amazing and it's so nice to see that there are mothers that put such a conscious effort into educating their children. It gives me hope for the future.

Too much is going on to write about now, maybe if I makes any sense of any of it, I will be able to write it all down later.

That Winchester cunt was one crazy ass cunt.

Sunday, January 31, 1999

Today emotionally sucks. I think tomorrow is when I am going to lose it.

But for the most part, I am having a wonderful time. I love Zack so much.

And it's weird being around him and Jenn, they are both so different.

Pure
Photography

PHOTOS\

Dr. Block's

Nature

Cubes

Europe

Portraits

Fantasy

Dying

Kazantip

Birthday

Russia '96

Russia

London '99

Stills '98