But thank god the TV is on,
'cause there's no way we could know
Anything that’s goin' down
Or how we're supposed to be feeling about it
I can't tell you how much I wish we could shut up and smile, yeah
-Bowling for Soup- Shut up and Smile
Actually, it is the end of the summer. The end of that period where life is in limbo, just waiting for a decision and it'll all work out if I just give it time. The heat hasn't broken, in fact the rain only recently stopped. School is starting, but I am not invited- I was so desperate to be done with it, but now, I have nothing to fill my days. My mom is going to come home for good soon, and then, the (until now) intermittent nagging to get a job or go to classes or Something, to figure out my life, will become constant. The more I think about reality, the more I want to curl up and never ever do anything.
I feel isolated. Not lonely, because I see people and go out, and I'm happy not to do so all the time, and because when my mother is home, I feel more alone. Just- I love my friends here, but the relationships are different. They aren't touchy-feely. At Vassar, my sarcasm and loudness work because it has contrast. People like Dierdre and Danielle who are happy and bouncy, people like Katie and Devin who are quiet or sweet or immature. Here, there are two choices, loud and sarcastic or quiet and acerbic. The others got scared off or overpowered, or indocrinated or something. Some of them come back and visit, but the group is shrinking, shriveling as it ages into a sour fruit. Leave us long enough, we'll ferment into vinegar. We love each other, but like my family, my friends show it by playfully (for the most part, although less so in my family) torturing eachother. There is no snuggling. No sharing of intimate fears, hopes or thoughts. I mean, I do, master of the overshare that I am, but no one else does. In some cases I know exactly why. I mean, if Friedman started to tell me about his deepest thoughts I would probably try to take his temperature (and certainly ask if he was feeling alright/ make a joke about not wanting to know his innermost thoughts because tenatcle porn gives me nightmares or something). And, I probably have more deep, honest talks with him than with everyone else combined. Maybe they share important stuff with eachother, and the problem is me. I joined this band of misfits much later than almost everyone else, I talk about myself too much, I'm certainly not likely to be a prime target for sharing of secrets. After all, I tell everyone so much, I must not be able to hide anything. Not true. I keep my actual secrets very well. And other people's even better. My standards for what qualifies as a secret are just very high.
I don't know what I want from them. I don't know what I want from myself. I don't know what I want from life. I do know that I need a hug and I am tired of sleeping alone and not having anything to DO. I don't function well when I have no one to take care of/ no crisis to solve.
I haven't gotten out of my PJs all day. I've done the usual: looked all over craigslist for a job, looked up pieces for a halloween costume (we're doing Xmen, I'll probably be Rouge. Maybe Psylocke, if I decided I want to be very naked. Why are the individual xmen- especially the women- so lame?). I'm trying to be a productive human - for me that means:
philosophical thoughts: How can you explain why you care to someone who doesn't? Is caring a good thing? Elias is trying very hard not to care about others, and not to act on any caring he feels, in order to be able to take care of himself. He thinks that's fine as long as you allow people to leave and make it clear that that is your plan. He points out that I'm much better at that than he is. Yes, I am very good at making it clear that I am a selfish bitch. But then I go and try to take care of others and get upset that no one spends nearly as much (sometimes it feels like no one spends any) time or energy on trying to help me/worrying about my needs. Certainly that plan isn't working out very well for me. And I don't know why I keep doing it. Or how to stop if I decide I want to. But I think not caring about how you affect others makes you a sociopath. So I'm skeptical at best about his plan. I dunno. Going to see him in Toronto may be a terrible plan. We had what I expected/intended to be a fight about it, but as always, he was calm and logical, and so I have a lot of trouble being pissed off because he's so calm and just wants me to explain better so he can understand. Unfortunately, much of it is emotional, so just as I cannot explain why I care so much about other people, I cannot explain why him not caring upsets me. It's just how I feel. When I get tired of philosophy,
I watch bad TV and try to paint:
Today, watercolors. a gunfight, and then flowers. And a tree. With leaves, much less skeletal and depressing than I usually make. Someone who found my art would really think I was fucked up. Bloody wounds, immediately followed by pansies and snowdrops.
And more lyrics, this time, a departure from the Weakerthans. Gary Jules's "Pills"
I've taken all my pills
But I'm still not sleepy
Tried to trick myself into thinking
That I'm not awake
That it's only a dream
Put that cigarette out
Don't ask me no questions
Salome dancing on my wall
And the shadows on the floor
Look so warm from here
I've seen it all before
Just one little lie
But the difference is this
It meant the world to me
Don't ask me no questions
"Take the wheel" she said "as I wander"
We could leave this town
I've got all I need: spirit, hope and joy
But no one knows me
I think I lost my pills
Guess I'll take my chances
I'm looking at the telephone
But nothing happens
I am well aware
That the morning is near
Put the radio down
Don't ask me no questions
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