Illegal sub dances. "They Ain't Making Jews like Jesus Anymore." Here it is the day before Passover, and I'm still goy, not even Christian.

Thinking alot about illegal sub dances, and the fear of pleasure. Want to make a t-shirt that says, "I did once, and I had a good time." Or, "Yes, And I'd do it again!". I was talking to Tonus today about Harry Swana and I read thusly from a buke about it: "...Has been associated with confusion, memory loss, apathy, incuriosity, and attention deficit." I thought, What's George's excuse?

Shades of black and blue, with hazy flashes of grey. The night rain left a mist in the air, with a sweet taste of freshness, alongside a gust of wind. With the wind blowing, I turn back, inside once again. I place my hand on my armchair, and swing it around. It turns quickly, like how everything else has.

Blinking slowly, I stare at the screen blindly, with the silence speaking to me. I no longer think when I am noding, I just let it flow. Emotional escape from emotional escapades. Let the mind have its say and silence it for the rest of the day. My eyelids grow weary, my eyeball dry as a bone. I close my eyes, yet cannot sleep. Taunted by the prospect of rest, I walk to my bed.

I lie there, with a drink in my hand. Medication said not to mix with alcohol. Too bad I can't read if I'm drunk. But I place it down, making a crease on the carpet on where the cup lies. I close my eyes and pray, hoping that someone else would hear me, or at least care enough to listen. I lie there, with the darkness of my eyelids and the solitude of my mind. I sit there and whisper to myself "Things will get better...You will see..." over and over until I finally sleep.

I wake up, then go out to eat. Off to work I go. Sluggish, I work hard, only to not have anyone see it. Feeling unappreciated, I wished that tonight would be the night that I would become calm. But it was not to be. After watching Blow starring Johnny Depp, the night engulfed the sky. Homeward bound.

I come home, once again to the silence of a fully asleep home. I walk out into my porch, place my hand on the balcony rail. I feel goosebumps on my arm building but I don't notice, as the glare of the full moon shines down on me. I sit, crosslegged, on the asphalt lining of the deck. I take a deep breath, inhaling the life of the night mist, with the feeling of the creation of the impending dew on the leaves on the nearby trees. I'm then reminded of the beautiful sight I saw on the way to work. The way the pinkish leaves swayed with the natural rhythm of the wind. The whistling sounds of the breeze as it seeped through the small opening on the window. A tear comes to my eye, for I can never find myself in something so beautiful, so tranquil. I breathe deeply, then slowly open my eyes to the world. A small dead leaf floats in the wind. I try to catch it with my hand. To no avail. Like anything else. I try to get it, but it slips between my fingers.

I close my eyes, and pray. I place my hands together,and pray. I say a silent prayer, and breathe deeply. May peace find me tonight. If not, may peace find someone more deserving. If I die before I wake, may peace find my soul. If I wake tomorrow,I hope that its a day better than today. I hope it was more like yesterday. May god help my soul.

It came through the door like a molotov cocktail.

Under Section 21 of the 1988 Housing Act, you are hereby informed that your tenancy of this property expires on the fourteenth of June on the year two thousand and one. The landlord will be repossessing the property on that date.

I have always bitched about my place. The 'shower' is a extremist in its temperature, the heating system is non-existent (in winter the place freezes), the cooker is dirty (our own fault I admit)....

So I was suprised at my own reaction to this eviction notice. I almost cried. Tears welled up in my eyes. I reread the notice over and over.

I guess I've grown to love this place. Ancient and obdurate. It was probably built between the wars. The landlord's own father lived here. I've made many friends here. Fellow tenants and people who have made use of our living room on short stays. Parties, watching TV, playing jenga, making love/shagging (almost every room has been 'christianed' by my girlfriend and me), trying not to hear through paper thin walls (ahem), playing kitchen football, calculating bills (every Tuesday night in more organised times), trying to tame the garden foliage with rusty clippers, fantasising, fighting, shouting, laughing, kissing, holding, leaving....

This morning all those memories flooded back (like the toilet did a few times). Will I ever find another place such as this?

ramblings on a saturday morning

As we age, and trust me, we all do..the other option, death, is not a viable one...for many, as Creed states, "life has just begun". And what brings us from that point to the next? Choices. Plain and simple, choices. When we make them, on a daily, hour by hour, minute by minute, selection, they don't seem so important, but they are the substance of the direction we take. There's no way I arrived at where I am today, except as a direct result of the choices I made.

If you make a left turn instead of a right, the consequences in retrospect can be staggering. Your significant other might just be somebody else's if you hadn't gone to class that day and made the significant impact on him/her that you did. The decision to fly to Phoenix instead of drive, ranks right up there with the Theory of Evolution as it relates to your life. My decisions to quit this or that job,to take this or that trip, to argue about this or that hypothesis are facets in the evolution of my journey that has landed me right here on a Saturday morning in April.

Please...think...make good choices...a life is a terrible thing to waste.

Well great... its the first offical day of my spring break and guess what I'm going to be doing all day... sitting on my ass at home because my dad went to Asheville and my mom doesnt want to give up her car...

So off to find something to do... hmmm what a suprise, nothing. So i guess i'll be sitting on my ass downstairs today coding Visual Basic of all things do to during spring break...

I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to ask him out.
Yes. I am a complete moron.
Christ! why, why oh WHY couldn't I just have said "wanna go for a pint to celebrate the course being over?"
I work with him, you see. Well.. I used to..

God I'm so sickened.

And wrecked. Those kids really take it out of you. All that noise! Honestly. Being a TA (teacher's assistant) is just a synonym for 'babysitter'. Having said that, though, I really had mad craic with the children over the term.

But back to _him_..
I was floating all week long. Bit bizarre.. twilightzone-ish. But so cheery and hopeful. And I went to see the film "Save the last dance" and it really was a booster to this wave of smiles. A real chick flik - but I love my drivel. Especially when I'm in a mood like that :o)

He's got black floppy hair, and rosy cheeks, teeny tiny specs, and he dresses like a _real_ student (as opposed to the students in this college who all dress as though they're going into a board meeting), all scruffy. you know; old school jumpers, scuffed boots, old pin-striped shirts.. He studies English lit. and Philosophy, so has that artsy thing going for him (as opposed to all the business and computer students here).
And I'm completely smitten.

So the question is; is it reciprocated? Or is this destined to be another unrequited lust? Hopefully the former.


I'll do a bit of digging tomorrow night, at the work yokey, and see what I can find out - past girlfriends, current interests, etc.. At least it's not really the last time I'll see him. He has a gig coming up in a few weeks, and I'm going along (would I miss it?!).

oh face it. it's not going to happen. if he was interested, he would've asked _me_ out himself. :\

This really pertains to last night (Friday), but I was nowhere near a computer at the time...

This was the second week of our performance of Measure for Measure at Loyola, and of course, after a Friday performance, what better thing to do than have a cast party! Yes, a bunch of drunken college students gathered around shaking their asses and having massive emotional traumas. First up on the menu-- Dave. Dave is sexy... Dave is the world's nicest guy... Dave is everything I want in a man, but can't have, because he has a girlfriend. Now, his girlfriend lives in London, but guess who just happens to show up this weekend to see his acting debut? And guess who he just has to bring to the CAST party? Of course, she's perfect. She's gorgeous, retro, eclectic, and perfect. I was doing quite fine until I went to have a cigarette by the window, and he sauntered up, gave me that adorable little Dave look, put his hand on my shoulder and said-- "Tiffany, I'd really like you to meet my girlfriend!" Fake smile, fake confidence, "It's sooo nice to finally meet you! We've all heard so much about you!" Excuse myself, drag Kathy to the bathroom hallway, and lose it. She calmed me down, gave me lots of good advice, and told me that all I could do was be patient and settle for a friendship in the meantime. As we're talking, who should saunter up behind us to wait in line for the bathroom? Dave, of course. He asks me what's wrong, and I tell him I'm in love with a guy who has a girlfriend.... so he proceeds to give me nothing but kind words and advice and comfort... about himself! If only he knew. After he left, a few more of my female friends come up to talk to me-- second trauma of the night.

Kathy tells me that she really admires me, and that she knows that I just need to find myself. This brings out the whole pregnancy/abortion thing (I'm an open person, I really don't mind people knowing my darkest doings), which leads to other girls opening up about bad things that have happened to them. Suddenly, another female member of the cast turns to the rest of us, eyes shining, and says, "You guys, my father tried to rape me twice in my senior year of high school"-- and then she was on the floor sobbing hysterically, the rest of us trying to do all we could to cheer her up. 45 minutes later, we finally calmed her down (yeah, this girl can do some serious crying... she puts me to shame), and then did some extreme girl bonding. Despite the mishaps, it ended on a good note, and by then, I didn't even care if Dave had a girlfriend, because it was such a trivial thing.

We all have more problems than we let on... and when we finally do, they all come out, for better or for worse... but as long as we always remember our inner strength, we will be better people in the end. Aww, I just want to give everyone in the world a hug right now!
(spoken about before posting, and reprinted by permission - we're exhibitionists, what can I say? )

My thoughts are flying backwards, as always, so that's how I'll relate what's going on in my head to you.

On your way out to Virginia yesterday evening I asked if you were gonna stay out there or if you would have time to talk later. You said you weren't crashing, and that indeed we'd talk later. Sure it was too late to call the island, but you could have at least left me a voicemail at home...and how the hell could you not have net access if you were hanging out with geeks? A 30 second email or /msg or *whatever* is all it would have taken to reduce the severity of your crime.

This was such a big deal to me because of how Wednesday night/Thursday played out. I hadn't spoken to you the previous night except for a voicemail from you saying that things went shitty. Ring,'re hugging the bowl, passed out..fine...I knew in the back of my mind you ended up trashed. Got the rundown on Thursday morning. We both go go nap, I go get my ass beaten at 500 Rummy by Nanny...pass out about noon. Wake up about 1900 hours. A /whois reveals you were on at about 1600 hours. Since we had barely spoken in the morning, again...where's that /msg or email just keeping in touch, saying you're going out. What the fuck happened to our communication? I don't need to know when you wipe your ass, but I go out of my way to let you know what's up with me, how to reach me ('specially since I don't have a cell) was frustrating getting cut off twice when I called you on the we get to talk for all of 10-15 minutes with mucho i the only one feeling empty here? Am I the only one feeling that something is missing? Am I the only one that's going to make an effort now?

I mean, know you're in good with me. You don't have to impress me. I mean, fuck...I realized not too long ago that I'm indeed falling for you..that you've fucking invaded that part of my heart and brain and body and soul...and things are going back to...well..actually, they never were like this. We started off great, which is why I got to this point of trusting you to begin with.

We're not local. We're not together often. I feel like you're taking me for granted, or you're not putting in effort...or something. Am I expecting too much? Am I putting in too much with the little check-ins that I do? It used to be that you were just as nuts about keeping tabs on each other as I still am, and everyone else thought we were overdoing it. It's just...we're not local, dammit. We can't take the little stuff for granted. As much as we're a part of each other, we're not entirely a part of each others lives, ya know? And we have to make up for that in some way...the little things. It's the little things. like announcing me as your fucking girlfriend, for starters. Why is that so hard for you? I know you've had that specific issue since Courtnee, probably before then. What's the deal with that?

So I ask I overdoing it? Am I starting to smother? I know I'm not entirely removed as a stress factor since well, your stress with your wife would only be 75% as much as it is now if I wasn't around.. (not a significant reduction, but it would be simpler). I don't want to put my energy into a black hole. I hold you to a higher standard than your ex's have, it seems. But that's only because you showed me you were capable of the kind of relationship I'm ready for in the beginning.

I know you're stressed, I know..I know...and as always, I understand. But please don't run away from me, please don't let me slip from your mind...please don't take me for granted. Kate doesn't think you do take me for granted, but that's not what you're showing me. And if there's too much on your plate right now, well...this is what you asked for, dearest. This is poly. Things have been pretty smooth for our beginning, even with the lessons we've learned the hard way thus far. We had foresight there, primarily because of mistakes I myself have made in the past...but that's okay. We got through it, and came out stronger.

Here it was Friday, 1700 EST...I checked my home voicemail one more time before I headed back to the city. I resisted the urge to call you all day. Fucking drove myself nuts. I'm too fscking nice. it's impossible for me to play hardass. But ya know, we haven't spent time together in a while. We haven't had quiet intimate moments in a while. The past few times we got together we've been on the go, physically and emotionally. And we haven't had a chance to calm the hell down and regroup entirely. My energy is nearly sapped. I just really wanted to see you this weekend, I was ready to come down there and face the music if need be. But ya know, I got really hurt standing by, waiting for you to reach out to me..and you were running off elsewhere, having a grand ole time. Fine, you don't want to drag me in more than you need to..but it affects me...I've been fucking worrying about you...I didn't flip out and call you 10000 times after my last "*sigh* *grumble*" text message to your celly because as Obi taught me once already, I knew you were an adult and could handle whatever you had to, and to give you the space to take care of it. But being in a relationship means letting somebody else in. Perhaps it's my own stupid fucking fault for sitting, waiting for your call again. But that's why I asked you up front if you were gonna have time.

You used to make that time.

I know your cell is a pain...and long conversations aren't what they could be on a landline. But, well, I dunno. *pout*

You used to make time. You used to reach out.

It's only been 2.5 months, Frank.

You can't stop working so early on. We're still growing, we're still volatile...our foundation isn't entirely solid yet. And there's a lot going on and I can't be there for you as much as if we were in the same damn city. I know you have your life down there, that's why I've let your leash out longer. But dammit, kitty cat. You've gotta come home for dinner.

I'm your fucking girlfriend, last time i checked. Distance or not. You used to make time.

I've been more productive as of late, which is grand of course. But you're always on my mind which is why I drop the little emails, the voicemails, and all that. Am I forgotten? Last time I checked, falling in love means you exhale that person's name, you smile at random moments when scenes flash in your head. You hallucinate their image. You feel them, smell them when they're not there. The memory of their taste is on your tongue. And life goes on, but you've got extra fuel. And when you get the chance you tell them of how they make you feel because you're boiling over with love and happiness and feel compelled to show them the effect they're having on you because you know it will make them happy. And it comes full circle. So I'm confused, now. You admitted you were falling long before I did.

Go ahead and play catch-up with her. Things started off okay with us. Don't build up debt. I won't tolerate it. Again, i have higher expectations. This is another lesson I learned the hard way with my ex.

Yesterday I had a crazy thought flash through my head. For the first time, I actually thought about breaking it off so you could deal with your shit, and see if you came back. It would at least give you the space to deal with relationship stuff since I wouldn't be a player in the picture. But, you're lucky I'm not entirely impulsive when it comes to major decisions. Having those thoughts scared me...and you can thank Kate for not letting me think too much about it, for not letting me dwell on how soothing the thought was. Funny, though..not a day earlier Miss Cleo asked me if I was sure I wanted to be a part of all this and I insisted that I did.

Have I made a mistake?


I love you, kitty.
Thanks, kat.

Boston College 3, North Dakota 2 (OT)
NCAA Championship, Pepsi Arena, Albany, NY

               1st 2nd 3rd OT  
North Dakota     0   0   2  0   2
Boston College   0   2   0  1   3

1st Period - No Scoring.  Penalties - Hale, UND, minor 
(cross-checking) 02:49; Peterson, BC, minor (interference) 
08:32; Kolanos, BC, minor (IG) 12:20; Notermann, UND, minor 
(hooking) 14:02.

2nd Period - 1, Boston College, Kobasew 27 (Giuliano) 05:26 
(pp); 2, Boston College, Lephart 15 (Forrest, Allen).  
Penalties - Schneekloth, UND, minor (hooking) 4:27; 
Lephart, BC, minor (hooking) 12:45; Voce, BC, minor 
(hooking) 14:49; Schneekloth, UND, minor (tripping) 16:10. 

3rd Period - 3, North Dakota, Skarperud 10 (Roche, 
Lundbohm) 16:18 (ex); 4, North Dakota, Dorey 17 
(Schneeklot, Lundbohm) 19:23 (EX).  Penalties - Forrest, 
BC, minor (tripping) 00:49; Spiewak, UND, minor (slashing) 
01:34; Lundbohm, UND, minor (hooking) 02:51; Orpik, BC, 
minor (interference) 11:06; Skarperud, UND, minor 
(slashing) 13:31; Team, BC, minor (too may on ice) 15:07.

OT: 5, Boston College, Kolanos 25 (Kobasew, Voce), 04:43.

Shots On Goal - North Dakota 9-9-16-2-36.  Boston College

Goalies - UND, Goehring (32 shots, 29 saves).  BC, 
Clemmensen (36 shots, 34 saves).

Attendance: 13,667.
After a great deal of introspection on a three mile walk tonight, I came home and wrote the following email to my immediate family, my grandparents, and my aunts and uncles.

Dear Family:

I have pissed away the past year of my life.

That's about the only way I know how to begin this email, because that thought is what led me to turn a hard introspective gaze on myself, and led to the thoughts that I am going to share with you in this email.

Back in October, the weekend of Grandma and Grandpa W----'s 50th Wedding Anniversary, I quit my job. Just up and quit. No reason can be offered, no explanation. I quit. This will come as a shock to most of you, because as far as you know -- and I let you all believe it, and even lied to some of you to keep you believeing it -- I still am working at Science City. But I'm not. I don't have a job at all. And I have not had one since then.

What I told myself was that I could just live off of my savings account for a month or two, and then get another job; my heart just wasn't in work. And then I let a month or two become a few months ... and a few months became several months. I kept telling myself, "I'll get a job soon enough, I deserve to take time off after all the time I put into school." And now I find myself broke -- looking for a job, and hopefully soon to have one, but broke nonetheless.

I have always dreamt big: even in the seminary, I had dreams of being a bishop, even cardinal. Once the acting dream really took hold, I had dreams of being lauded for my work on stage, in film, on television. And so I dreamt my dreams ... and lived my life in a world of fantasy. I did not ground myself in reality. The little day to day things -- and in this I would included a regular old boring job -- I ignored, preferring instead to dream. And I became a lazy person because of it.

I am also a liar -- Dad, you already know this, and have even called me on it. Most often, it's been about my financial situation, and things related, including a job. And each time Dad called me to task for it, I was contrite and seriously thought to do better. But I guess there was a safety net there of some sort, or perhaps it was my dreaming and laziness, and I never did do better. I have lied to family members: "Yes, I have a job. And it's going well. And I enjoy it." And on and on and on. I smiled and I lied.

I feel like I have somehow let down dad and, yes, mom. After mom passed away, I heard some of you talk of seeing her as an example for the raising of your own children. And by God, both mom and dad were excellent parents: they encouraged us to be hard-working, solid, respectable people. They modelled excellent values to us. And now, here I am: a broke, unemployed, lazy dreamer. Society would tend to say, where did the parents go wrong? But mom and dad didn't go wrong; in fact, I'd say they were spot on. So then the question is begged: where did I go wrong? How did I end up a unrealistic, ungrounded dreamer?

When I was in grade school, I was always the gawky, geeky, loser of an outsider. And so to deal with that, I created a fantasy world in my own mind for me to escape to, a world in which I was cool, hip, popular. This eventually developed into my love for acting: "I can play these various characters who aren't me, who I can escape into, and I don't have to be myself when I am them." And this fantasy life developed: soon, in my own mind, as the acting dream grew, I was being interviewed on talk shows; I was winning numerous awards; I had piles and loads of cash. And so I became an unrealistic, ungrounded dreamer.

In a way, I've always felt a bit like an outsider in both the W---- and M------ families. This is not to say I've felt unloved; quite the contrary. But into these families of pragmatic, hard-working, straight-forward, no-nonsense people I was born: a dreamer, an unrealist, an artist. When I look at so many of you, I ask myself, how come I am a part of these families? I don't really belong.

I feel like one of the characters in Stephen Sondheim's musical "Follies." Ben sings a bright, upbeat song-and-dance number, a smile plastered on his face, the lights bright, the costumes glorious, the music lush -- but underneath, he's in a downward spiral. And try as he might, he's unable to keep it buried: slowly it creeps up into the song, which becomes discordant, and he forgets where he's at in the song. The past year of my life, I've been Ben, gamely going through the motions, smiling and apparently happy, while deep down, it was all slowly going down the drain. And now it's burst forth onto the surface.

I guess you could say I've hit a sort of rock bottom; very little seems right in my life these days. And for the most part, I've only myself to blame for that. But it's something that has, in a way, been building for many years, though I certainly never suspected it.

Let me assure you all that I am in no way contemplating suicide, though the harsh self-accusatory tone of this email might suggest otherwise. I needed to take this long hard look in the emotional and mental mirror, and having seen what I have seen, I know that I need to change, to grow, to become new.

This is not to say that I will no longer be a dreamer; I don't think that could ever change, and I don't want it to change. I still want to have a life in the arts. But I realize now, more than ever, that I while my head may be in the clouds, my feet must be firmly on the earth. I'm not going to achieve any of my dreams by sitting back and not doing anything, even if it means having a "bland" job to have a source of income.

Lest you wonder, there is one definite bright spot in my life right now -- my boyfriend. I realize that for some of you, this is my "coming out," and I suppose doing it via email is a bit detached, but I so rarely think about my sexuality as being a "topic" for discussion any more. I realize, too, that some of you may be put off by this, upset by this, in some way negatively affected by this. But this is part of who I am, and it's something I am comfortable with and have accepted, and I hope that all of you can be and do the same.

Anyway, his name is also Jason. We are a lot alike in many ways, in terms of interests, but we are also different in many ways, in terms of our views of the world and of life. But we complement one another, and we are happy with one another. His having come into my life has brought me a sense of peace and security, and has, in a way, also been a catalyst for taking this long hard look at myself; I need to know and admit who I am, who I really and truly am deep down inside, down where things have been buried, if I am going to be in a positive, healthy relationship.

So why have I written this email to all of you? I guess that I felt a need to make a "confession" to you all, to present the real me to you, warts and all. As I said above, I have never felt unloved, and I write this email to let you all know that I am at a dark place in my life right now, and that if you all know of it, and will love and support me as I get through it, then the getting through it will be more bearable.

Dad has often said that you judge a person by what they do, not what they say. I've talked a good talk to him before about how I mean to do better, and then never did. And once again, I am saying to him, and I am saying to you all, that I mean to do better. Words, words, words right now, I realize -- give me time, and I will back them up with deeds, deeds, deeds.

All my love,
Fun day. I joined up with Sara, Ann and CR, and we all went to the beach. I hadn't been to the beach in over five years. Sara looked great in a bikini. We were there for about 2 hours. Sara was acting kind of quiet and distracted today. After spending an hour in the water, we all lied down on the beach for a while. Sara read some books and I just lied there and stared at her.

Afterwards, Sara had to get back to the library and finish some research while the rest of us went to Wendys and then back to my apartment until about 4am. CR and I played around a bit with a new game while Ann read a book.

It was a good day, but I wondered why Sara was so quiet today. Little did I know what she had in store for me tomorrow.

April 7, 2001.  My 21st birthday.

Went to La Blue Agave in Chicago, a nice tequila bar downtown.  I got severely hammered.  I passed out in the bar; I passed out in the taxi on the way home, and I passed out in about two seconds once I collapsed into a comfy chair.

Woke up about 10 AM, took a piss.  Went back to sleep before my blaring headache had a chance to start up.

Woke up at noon, drove over to Elmhurst.  Took a shower to wash the stench of tequila off of me.

Did some Passover related stuff in the evening, unfortunately, but then went back to bar hopping at night.  Ended up back downtown, at some bar called Hamilton's and then above it on the roof smoking some pot.

The most irritating thing was that not once bouncer asked to see my ID the whole day.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.