It’s getting progressively harder to write exactly what I want on this site ’cause more and more people from Duluth are reading it. Not that I don’t appreciate the readership, but you know. You know. You know?
Tonight, we have 10 people staying at our house. In addition to all the roommates (with the exception of Erik), Minh, Luke, Lisa, Matt’s girlfriend Jesse andAbbey will be in Nerdom (i.e. the name of our house, given by Chris F., who once called the bulk of us “band nerds”) tonight. Our house feels like a cross between a hotel and storage space right now.
Apparently, Erik’s ex-girlfriend now lives a few blocks away. The other day, I walked out of my house and she was sitting in her car in front of the house. She quickly sped away. And Erik kept his car here the past few days while he was at the retreat, and she wrote him a little note and stuck it between his windshield wipers. In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t bother me at all, but taking in consideration the events of this past summer, anything has the potential to make me nervous.
Anyway.
Did I ever mentioned I took two independent study classes this summer? and did I mentioned that I have 15 papers to write for one before Sept. 28th and I haven’t started? I’m beginning to get a wee bit concerned. Also, auditions for the fall plays are the first day of school and I am quite unprepared. I’m beginning to feel panicky.
But Matt has moved back up for the school year, yay! I missed him so.
Jason and Corina returned from Florida last night, with cute souvenirs.
Time to go socialize.
So, Erik was here last night, and I was going to write this huge long thing about it, but I ranted with Bet first, so I don’t have nearly the amount of venom.
Okay, everything went fine. He was nice; he told me he wants to be back together, etc, etc, etc. (and also told me he went on a date with some girl, even though he cited the reason for our supposed “break” was because he didn’t want to be in a relationship at the moment, but that’s another thing for another time). It was more what he didn’t say or do that caused me to want to either puke on him or hit him.
I guess I wanted him to fall over himself apologizing for taking my heart and punting it around, but there were no apologies to be made. I wanted to have some sort of serious talk with him, and he really wasn’t into that. Here is an example of conversation:
Me: You know, you really hurt me, blahblahblahcakes and it’s going to take me a long time to trust you again.
Him: Okay.
Me: I have a lot of anger towards you.
Him: Okay
Me: I’m going to hit you with your Birkenstocks until I dislodge your brain.
Him: Okay.
I guess only time is going to tell if things are going to be cool between us. The thing is: I went through too much to just be able to snap back to being together with him. I know, I know, forgive and forgetcakes, but damn it, I want him to earn my love back, not just expect it and be so damn indifferent.
Will be mature. Will not rub a skunk on his bed while he’s away or subscribe him to anymore girl magazines (only Jane has come so far). Will be patient and not impulsive. I’ll wait things out and see where we’re at after a couple of weeks. But, honestly, like I said to him, if I feel like I’m the only person in our relationship, it’s not worth it to me. I can do better.
Ah, personal, juicy details of my life. I’m such a private person.
I should be at work right now. I’m so bad.
Alright, I’m going to do something constructive. Yes, yes, I am, like make another batch of Suddenly Salad or cut my toenails.
Here’s something disturbing. I was reading the back of a box of tissues (why, I don’t know) and this is what it said:
Try Puff Plus with Lotion and Puffs Extra Strength with tiny enchanted pillows, the secret to Puffs’ soft touch. Puffs Plus — soft, smooth, and kissed with lotion for comforting a sore nose. Puffs Extra Strength — miraculously strong for the biggest blows, cushiony soft on every nose.
Um, I’ve bolded everything questionable.
I really am going down to watch the movie, I promise.
You know, I’ve always been one to do the little “ooo, it’s 11:11, make a wish” thing, and the night I was riding around with Norm in his police car, the clock hit 11:11 and he told me to make a wish. I wonder what he wished for. I know what I wished for, and it certainly didn’t happen, not yet at least.
So, lately, instead of working on my summer classes, I’ve been doing my best to work with cheesy effects on Paint Shop Pro. Here’s an example:
That’s Erik and I at the end of school last semester, with some effects added. I’m a dork.
The damage on my car amounts to $1300, but the other guy’s insurance covers it all, so yay! Except a non-yay is the fact that I’ll be without a car for a bit. They would give me rental car, but you have to be 21, damn age limits.
Erik will be here for a night tomorrow. Not just to see me — he has some thingy he has to go to at 9 AM, so he’s coming up a night early so he won’t have to drive all early in the morning. I kinda want to have The Talk with him then, but we’ll see if that happens.
Alright, Minh and Beth are downstairs watching a movie and I must join.
This is a song oft quoted, but I’m listening to it now and loving it and feeling it’s relevance, so here’s some lyrics for you:
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I was upset last night when I heard about Aaliyah’s plane crashing. I’ve always admired her beauty and talent, and it was really sad to hear about that. Plus that song from Dr. Doolittle (you know, the one that goes: “Sleep, sleep, sleep, I’ve been watching you like a hawk in the sky . . .”) was a huge chunk of my high school memory. It was one of me and Nick’s “songs,” in a way.
Someone on Metafilter said celebrities need to learn to avoid small planes. Speaking of Metafilter, someone put up a thread about Aaliyah, and the inevitable (at least for Metafilter) “should we mourn celebrities” argument is afoot. There shouldn’t be rules to mourning in my opinion. What do you think?
I really have a lot of thoughts to put down here, but being sick is making me a tired girl. Or at least, the Sudafed is. So, thoughts will have to be postponed.
For some reason, I have had this line in my head all day (it’s from Moulin Rouge, which I don’t believe I’ve mentioned here is my absolute favourite movie of all time):
“I was a fool to believe . . . a fool to believe.
It all ends today . . . yes, it all ends today.”
Sounds better when it’s sung.
Okay, bye, I’m really going this time.
So, ever been in a minor car accident?
(I start it out this way ’cause my friend/roommate Matt’s job this summer consisted of grading standardized test essays from 8th graders, and inevitably, all the essays [which were to be about taking a stand on something, whatever that’s supposed to mean] started with: “So, have you ever taken a stand on something?”).
In the ninth grade, the girl who drove me to school accidentally hit someone from behind. And today, I was hit from behind, so basically, it’s my second car accident of my life. Nothing major at all. If my mother hadn’t been with me, I probably wouldn’t even have called the police.
Anyway, there’s my car accident story for the day.
My Mom is visiting for six days. Thursday morning, we drove down to the cities to catch a Twins game, but we were both so exhausted that we stayed for an hour and then left. Then, since we both have absolutely zero sense of direction, we ended up getting lost for two hours trying to find our hotel.
Amazingly, Mr. I’m-too-busy-to-even-breathe (aka Erik) agreed to meet us for dinner. He wore my favourite shirt of his, which was a particularly cute gesture. Dinner went fine, and again, it seems like everything’s back to normal with us, though nothing has been discussed. I did realize that I have a lot of unvented anger at him. When he started talking about how he’s probably going to live in the Cities next year and do the same stuff, my knuckles went white around my fork. And then when he mentioned that he would probably drive down to his recording studio every other weekend this school year, my stomach just about expelled itself from my body. Humph. He certainly made little effort to drive up to see me this summer — citing gas prices too high, his car too unstable, etc.
But, then he walked me to my car and kissed me so sweetly that I turned into mush. Things will definitely have to be talked about when he gets back up to school.
The next day, my Mom and I hit Mall of America, my absolute worst nightmare, considering I hate malls in general. We actually had a nice time, though, having lunch at the Rainforest Cafe and walking around. We came back up to Duluth last night and went to see The Others, which was a pretty good movie. The ending was a complete shock. The people around me were rather interesting. One smelled like wet toilet paper and the one behind me had the Captain Obvious disease, pointing out loudly everything that happened 30 seconds after it happened.
I’m a bit sick. Sinus stuff.
Two of my roommates went off to Florida for a week and left all their dirty dishes in the sink and in the living room. Yuck.
I should say something positive here to counteract the negative . . . hmm . . . ohyes, I recently found out that the coffee at the service station down the block is only 50 cents and the guy that runs it is awesome. I love knowing the people in the stores around here.
Tonight, we’re going to see my friend Abbey’s play (she’s the stage manager), and then who knows what else?
Time to nap, mmm.
I’m back, with lots o’ stuff to write. In the meantime, however, read this for fun.
Well, my Mom is here to visit and we’ll be down in Minneapolis for a few nights. See you when I get back!
So, I had a huge update planned for today, all about how I bought groceries for hippies on the side of the road and how I made a fool of myself in front of this guy Corina was sort of trying to set me up with at her work (basically, I didn’t look at him the whole time and pretended to fill out customer survey forms), but what I really want to say now is this:
Sitting around, laughing about absolutely nothing for hours with great people, has to got to be the best therapy around. I love my friends.
What began as a weird, nerve-wracking day ended beautifully. It’s the little things that just delight me, like right after having a long phone call with Erik and hanging up, him calling back to tell me he loved me, just because he forgot to say it at the end of our conversation.
And laughing with people who will never ever judge me. Man! Sometimes I just love my life.
I got my first good night of sleep this summer without the aid of a sleeping pill last night. So, consequently, I woke up in a fantastic mood. Had some tea, took a shower, walked to the mailbox and stopped in on the Adopt-A-Pet tent by the grocery store.
Everyone seems to be in a good mood today. The weather is perfect. Penny the LovePup, the dog next door, is barking happily and someone is blasting Sarah McLachlan across the street. Birds are chirping. I feel like I’m in the middle of a damn sitcom.
Life at this moment is divine (and our internet is back up, so that makes it even more divine-er, geek that I am.)
Our dang cable modem is on the brink, which means everything must be done by dial-up, which is painful for an internet junkie such as myself.
The atmosphere of my room right now is absolutely perfect. I completely re-arranged, which was quite a task considering it was Little Weak Girl vs. Huge Heavy Furniture. I managed, however, and everything is exactly how I want it right now. It’s raining outside, candles are burning, my Moulin Rouge poster is finally up and I’m listening to the soundtrack. Mmmm, perfection.
Ooo, and I have jasmine potpourri.
I really have nothing of consequence to say, but I’ve really enjoyed updating here the past few weeks. I don’t have logs up yet, so I don’t even know if anyone is reading anymore. Are you?
I have so many good stories from my Virginia trip to tell, but I’ll save them for later.
It’s a confusing time right now in terms of that Erik kid. Everything would point to the fact that we’re back together, but nothing has been said of the sort. In fact, in the little time we’ve talked in the past few weeks, the subject of our apparent estrangement has not even been brought up. So, I’m not sure what to think. I don’t want to ask, either, ’cause everything seems so fragile right now. At the same time, however, I don’t want to remain on the brink like this. Do I have a boyfriend or not?
I suppose that would be a good thing to ask.
At the same time, however, I’m too afraid of getting a wishy-washy answer like “I don’t know” or him telling me he needs more time to think because that will, indeed, piss me off. It will mean he has effectively been leading me on the past few times we’ve talked or been together.
There’s my inner monologue for the night.
I’m currently reading Fast Food Nation, and I know, I know, I’m behind in the trend. It’s interesting, but I’m not to the gruesome whats-in-the-meat part. I’m hoping it will be a catalyst for vegetarianism.
Alright, I suppose I should do something other than admire my newly arranged room.
“i want to sing
a piercing note
lazily throwing my legs
across the moon
my voice carrying all the way
over to your pillow
i want you.”
NIKKI GIOVANNI
I didn’t crash, but nothing remarkable happened to me, either. Oh, except for Erik meeting me at the airport — but those details are so delicious to me right now that I’m going to keep them to myself. You only get to hear the heartbreak, not the good stuff (for now, at least).
I’m a little homesick already, but that will pass, I hope. I have just a little over a month now to write 15 papers for my summer class. Whoops, guess I procrastinated a bit.
It’s good to be back. I just wish my other world was closer by.
Here are some things I’m happy about:
- My roommate Corina calling last night to tell me she missed me.
- My old high school friend Jason calling me today to see if I wanted to do anything, which is amazing because in the entire 7 or so years we’ve been friends, I believe he’s called me a possible total of three times.
- Seeing my also old high school friend Beth T. at the bookstore, since she’s someone I idolize and strive to be like in all sorts of the word. She’s so laidback. She’s chilly in a good way. Would she freak out over the actions of any male-type person? Never.
- Buying this fabulous new red sweater, since I am most definitely not a shopper, and rarely find anything I really love.
I had this long rambling whiny update here, but I decided that it was a little too personal to put up, and besides, I’m in a happy mood now, and feel I wanted more positive things up here.
I am impatient. He doesn’t hate me. In fact, the boy in question just might possibly meet me at the airport tomorrow during my layover between the Cities and Duluth. We’ll see. But I’m still goin to be happy.
Pray for no crashing. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be back in Duluth.
And, as always, I think I spoke too soon. Or maybe I’m impatient. Or maybe I expect too much. Or maybe I’m just really confused, and so is he.
Maybe I just need to get out of the house.
There’s a beauty to being awake through dawn with the feeling of maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to start over again. The feeling of a second chance. One good phone conversation may not even mean anything, but in this moment, it means the world to me. Thank you.
The problem is that I want to apologize for my angst all the time, and the problem with that is the fact that I’m calling it angst to begin with. It’s a self-depracating word I use when I’m afraid people are judging me; it’s my way of laughing nervously and saying, “Look, this isn’t the way I really am.” When it is in fact the way I really am.
I think it stems from my own judgment of other people. If I’m in an exceptionally good or silly mood, and I read serious writing on web pages, I think: “Oh, how angsty, why don’t those people lighten up?”
We fear judgment because we know what it’s like to judge. Profound or just 3 AM blither?
The problem is that I don’t feel my thoughts are validated until other people hear them or read them. Shouldn’t I be writing all this down in a personal journal, not made for public view? If I took a pen and a regular ol’ piece of lined paper and scribbled all this, it would still eat away at me. I would not be satiated. Call it my flair for the dramatic. The thing is, I know where to draw the line between private and public; I just often don’t want to.
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Damn it, this is the third time I have tried to write. I’m dumbly using Netscape Composer 6.1, which is the crashi-est thang around.
Okay, here’s what I’ve been trying to say:
I really should apologize for my male-bashing letter down there because, as my good friend Jade from Australia has so graciously pointed out, not every person equipped with a penis is a jerk. A more appropriate heading for my letter would’ve been: To the Two or Three Boys Who Are Driving Me Insane, as opposed to encompassing the whole gender.
The truth is, there are plenty of lovely male-type people who have been quite wonderful to me and those greatly outweigh the ones who are sitting on my shitlist. It just currently seems to be the pattern that every man I begin to show some sort of romantic affection for grabs the jerk baton and goes running.
And since we’re sharing truths here, the truth is I shouldn’t even CARE, right? Shouldn’t I be off being an independent woman and starting my own company from scratch?
Call it my harmartia (which I’m sure is a misspelling of the intelligent word I’m trying to throw out there, the one that means “tragic flaw”), I suppose, but I’m a sucker for an intelligent speaker and a pretty face.
Alright, I’m off to drink coffee and not think about anything for a while.
PS: Right now, this page is optimized for Netscape 6.1, which just about no one on the planet uses (and rightfully so) because it, in a word, sucks. I’ll change that once I get back to Minnesota.
“I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.”
Alright, I may as well write about it, instead of sitting here pouting and being in an all around hateful mood.
Here was my mistake: letting myself be attracted to a person who is obviously immature and unreliable. Letting myself develop one of my infamous monster crushes (infamous to me, at least) within the span of a week. And it’s not the fact that Norm (I.hate.that.name.) stood me up; it’s more the fact that I was so excited to go out with him. Okay, so it is the fact that he stood me up. It’s the fact that he looks so dignified and adult-ish in a uniform, but you can tell by his gangly hands that he’s a kid, like a puppy that hasn’t grown into its paws. It’s the fact that he sat in that chair in Dispatch like an arrogant 22-year-old male, head back and cocked to the side, legs splayed, dark blue eyes half shut, and made it look like the sexiest seating position I’d ever seen. It’s the fact that he tried to deny that he got tipsy at dinner, but he was obviously red in the face and spilling his guts to me. It’s the fact that I wanted a fling with him so badly I could taste him. It’s the fact that he was distracting me from Erik and I loved that.
Not that Erik is at the forefront of my mind right now, which is odd and kind of disturbing. I begin to worry when I’m not a mess over our apparent break-up or break or whatever the hell it’s supposed to be. Last night, I was sitting on the couch with best friend from high school, Stephanie, a glass of Sprite in hand and we were talking girl shop. Her Siamese was curled up next me, her baby fast asleep in the next room. We were talking about Erik.
“You seem to be taking it really well,” she said.
And she should know, considering that she was the one who had to slip me Valium when I broke up with Nick, the one before Erik. But when she said that to me, I had to check myself — was I really okay? I didn’t want to be okay with it. I still wanted to be devastated. But my voice was calm and my brain was clear, for the moment. I really was okay.
I don’t know what to think about Erik, honestly. Once I get back to Duluth, I will want him with every fiber of my being and I know it. I’m predictable like that. But right now, I’m almost pissed at myself because I’ve written at least four e-mails and I’ve received one from him and was overjoyed by it, and even more overjoyed by the fact that he wrote “I love you” on it. And then I think: damn, my expectations have really lowered. And I think: I’m never writing him again. And I think: that’s bullshit. Because I miss feeling him curled up in my back at night. Because I miss his security. And because I miss his love.
So, constant reader, what’s a girl to do when her boyfriend is wishy-washy and the gorgeous man she was supposed to have a torrid affair with doesn’t call, and she’s left alone with a bowl of ice cream and her dogs? Appreciate what’s right in front of her, I suppose.
Dear Every Male On The Planet, with a few exceptions :
Please do not cross my path or contact me ever again because you all are jerks, jerks of the worst kind.
Sincerely, and with absolutely no love whatsoever,
Zosia
I am pissed. I am feeling sorry for myself. I am taking a candlelit bath with a new book and listening to the storm outside, praying that it will drown every last person with a penis (with the exception of immediate family members and Matthew Dailey, who actually did what he said he would today, being miraculous and all, since he IS a holder of the Y-chromosome).
Fuckers.
And I mean that with the purest of hearts.
Oh, yay, I finally got everything configured on my computer in VA so I can update this page now. I have so much to say, and have been itchin’ to write for days, so be patient.
Excited? Oh, yeah. The formatting of this page while I’m in Virginia will look a little off ’cause I’m using a different editing program. Never fear, aesthetic quality will return once I return to the cold cold North.
I am the happiest I have been in a week. Let’s hope it lasts!
I slept through my day job this morning. I went to work at the box office (my evening job) so pissed at the current situation in my life. I let the current situation know exactly how pissed I was, and though the current situation didn’t understand a word I said or really care about a word I said, I still felt great afterwards, like there’s some fire left in me instead of this mopey sad lovesick mush girl I’ve been the past week. Yeah!
I watched the show with Beth. It was a performance of The Odd Couple , and it was excellent. I had seen the first act a month earlier, but had walked out because I thought the humour wasn’t “my type.” Goes to show what a month can do.
Afterwards, Beth and I went to Sir Ben’s to see what was up for the Celtic Night and all we saw was a couple of drunk old people and some hyper 10-year-olds lamely strumming and humming. We left. Instead of that, we went to the Kachingwe’s and ate ice cream and brownies and watched Freddy Got Fingered with Minh, a random girl named Laurie and the cat Trunks. The movie was probably the stupidest movie I’ve ever seen, but in a good way. I laughed for days. Stupid in a bad way would be, say, Titanic.
And now it’s almost 3 AM and of course I’m not tired because my brain does not shut off. Ever.
I got a Moulin Rouge poster that I ordered in the mail today. Happiness!
Alright, maybe my empowerment and my happy high won’t be here tomorrow. But I’m going to stay awake as long as I can to relish in it.
Quotations to end your night:
Oscar: You left a note on my pillow that said: “We’re out of cornflakes, F.U.!” It took me forever to figure out that meant Felix Ungar!
and:
Beth (upon seeing a cartoon banana in a movie at a job agency): Bananas can get jobs! Why can’t I?
Goodnight!