Saturday, August 25, 2001

why won't this post?

.....I can't fucking take it.

I'm pregnant.

I've been fucking him for longer than most of you have even known I've been fucking.....those of you who even knew that I lost my virginity.......and, no, it's not andrew's.

Damn it all to hell. Well, if I'm gonna confess, might as well do it in the most impersonal way possible....I don't want to see the looks on all your faces, the shame, the horror......goddamn. Why the hell did I let this happen to myself?

I want to go to bed.

My name is Linda and I'm stupd and irresponsible and a slut...and I don't even know where he is. On with it.

A jazz trio version of "accustomed to her face" from......fuck....My Fair Lady is playing right now, and existence itself is so shoddy and unsatisfying that it should be classified with certain types of mold.

Hating life would be a step up, at least it would be interesting to find some contempt in everyone and everything. This I am simply bored with. And tired out of my mind.

The thought of taking my own life has, once again, taken it's place within my thought pattern. Right there next to dreading work, hating school, and loving Millay, Ani, and Matchbox Twenty is the desire to shove off this mortal coil. I used to say things like that because I hoped someone would rush to my aide. This happened very rarely. Anyone who ever made the conscious effort to keep me alive is no longer in my life at all....I miss Max. I had hoped to see him sometime and make plans with him back when I was still okay and tell him that I was good, that I no longer was obsessive or a stalker or a suicidal drama queen. If I were to see him again now the conversation would pretty much consist of me telling much I've backtracked. How I don't even really want to be saved anymore.

"And in my hour of need
I truly am, indeed
Alone again, naturally."
-Gilbert O'Sullivan

By my own doing, admittedly....

I have no evidence that jeff is even still alive....he sent me an e-mail on the 20th, I sent one back about half an hour into the 21st and instructed him to call me to claim me whenever he wanted to see me- I gave him the option of any day this week. And sunday. Tomorrow is sunday and maybe Jeff has one would think to tell me, as I do not belong in his circle of friends at all. Same goes for elorza, but I talk to elorza somewhat more regularly......wouldn't THINK that would be the case.

I need Jeff in a way I do not consciously let myself need anyone. Think I'd blow off my whole life for him. Maybe even the rest of the fab five.....sorta feels that way right now, but if that's not exactly the sort of elitist thought that I'm not supposed to have, or at least express, when it comes to them, I don't know what is. Probably not true, either, but damn...........I get weird without him.

He probably knows I need him. It probably freaks him out. He's probably trying to get rid of me. I'm probably a paranoid bullshit.

I rented Breakfast at Tiffany's along with American Pie today and have not watched either, but desperately want to be watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, so I may just go do that. Or freak out. Or drug myself and collapse for an indefinite period of inconsciousness.

Yeah, that sounds good.

My name is Linda, and I spelled "good" six times before gettting there. Guess I'm not really familiar with the word. On with it.

Good moods don't last long.

"I don't know what it is about you
I just know it's not what it was.
And I don't know why red fades before blue
It just does."
-Ani, Sorry I Am (I think)

With each passing day I seem to have less and less faith in the ability of a group of five to make me happy. Jeremey and Elorza remain as distant, however good-intentioned, as they always were. Entirely untouchable people, complete opposites in many ways, entirely the same in others. Jeff and I haven't spoken or seen each other in more than two weeks, and our correspondence has been in the form of a limited amount of e-mails. I fear that perhaps he's been to this god-forsaken site and got offended, but I'd like to think he knows me better than to ever take anything insulting I said about him seriously at all.....he is the best human being I know to exist...well, possible exception of Nick, but I can't pretend that there is anything I wouldn't do for Jeff, and I can't pretend that I even have the ability to give myself that entirely to anyone I've known for such a short as Nick. Em is still beautiful, funny, supportive, and quintessentially female as ever, and she is my best hope for survival....but I've spent the day with her now, and I come back feeling lonelier than ever, if only because I cannot stand to hear myself bitch when she is near, if only because I work to keep the adoration she so amply has for me. Rich Kid.....I find myself thinking of him less and less when he's not here, and that's dangerous. He'll be hurt to read that if he didn't already know....but I'm working on it, I, that's a lie. I intend to. My point is that I can't lie to the internet whether or not he's part of it. This is the place I go to be real....when it's not the place I go to be fake.

I remember distinctly a few years ago, when emily and I were dating, walking home one night and hearing my mom screaming for some reason or another from the outside of my house, and hoping to a metaphorical god that I could find the courage to keep walking past that asylum, to go on into the night, find something on the other side of it that would fit me a little better. Tonight, walking home, the dark silence that left me to my thoughts was such an obtrusive enemy that if had had to walk through it for a moment longer than I did I would have fallen to my knees begging mercy from the soundless voices...."no light but rather darkness present" or whatever Dante said. With each though my disdain for myself outgrew my disdain for the fact that my reasons to return to my own life grow smaller with each passing minute....I needed to escape and still do, but to what, to wear? I would have to bring myself with me.

"and I'm so
terrified of no one else but me
I'm here all the time
I won't go away
it's me, yeah I can't get myself to go away
it's me, and I can't get myself to go away
oh God I shouldn't feel this way"

Matchbox Twenty, Long Day. There was a time in life I wanted nothing more than for Jeremey to tell me that song, for him, was for me. Certain lyrics. "I'm sorry bout the attitude I need to give when I with you but no one else will take this shit from me." All I ever wanted to be for him was the person he could depend on no matter what....I can't even depend on myself anymore. Matchbox Twenty wrote about a thousand songs that applied to him and I, including my favorite song of all time, Push. I'd quote it, but I've quoted to much already, and I'm not even really sad about him. Maybe just the lack of his being an assett to me, like everyone else right now.

Leave, yet another song by the great MB20, is Mr. Ladd.... I had a correspondence with him tonight and yesterday night.....well, in reverse order.....everything in life hurts so much. I need to go to bed. I wish it were sunday so I could sleep late tomorrow morning and when I awoke, Nick would be there to say stupid, stupid things and make me feel.....distract me, anyway. He tries. I love him. Maybe he loves me, too. Maybe the whole world does. Wouldn't matter.

"It's aggravating
how you threw me on
and you tore me out
how your good intentions turn to doubt
the way you needed time to sort it out

Tell me is that how it's going to end
when you know you've been depending on
the one you're leaving now
and the one you're leaving out"

My name is Linda and my elbow hurts, but that's pretty much the best of it. On with it.

Friday, August 24, 2001

most of all, my god! HOW DO I MAKE MY EYES DO THAT???

I'm in a good mood for the first time in a really fucking loooong time.

Because I'm not at work.
Because I'm not going to give a damn about seeing jeff until he decides to see me.
Because I have 67 dollars in my pocket.
Because my lips taste like razzleberry. (I know it doesn't exist, shaddup)
Because Ani is amazing.
Because Blues Traveler was singing that song FOR ME.
And because, they're right, I do have fucking beautiful eyes.

Don't you miss looking at them? Yeah, you should.


They better shine up their old brown shoes and put on a brand new shirt, eh jeremey?

I miss Jeremey...Jeremey, would you come see me sometime? PLEASE? Ya can even bring Nick and Ben, they like me. Fuck it, they love me! I'm great! Hell, pack Chad in the car can eat him if something happens and you get lost in the woods. Like in the play.

My name is Linda and I'm gonna go order some chinese food and then rent some movies with emily......on with it!

Thursday, August 23, 2001

Sorta sick that my boyfriend's reaction to that last post was that of a perverse oppurtunist and not a concerned or angry boyfriend. But I wouldn't like him half as much if he wasn't sorta sick.

I went for a walk today, at first it was supposed to be to the big apple then to the teen center where I would listen to Ani, who, amidst all this bullshit that's happening to me, still makes me feel better than anyone I've met......or at least than anyone I've met has so far. I ended up going from the big apple to the high school to check to see if Mrs. McKee was working the same long-ass hours she was yesterday, and then I hiked up route 9, where, upon seeing Andrew's mother drive by, I called him. I was about a half a mile away from his house and he started walking to meet me. I went to his house and got the grand tour which involved talking to *both* of his parents. *shudddddder*

I called home for a ride- my mom isn't allowed to eat today because she's having a camera shoved up her ass tomorrow looking for cancer or something, and she's feeling weak and sick, so my father had gone out to eat without it being a personal affront to her. So when I called she said she'd have him come get me upon his return...which apparently wasn't for a while, because when Jenn called, my mom had her pick me up. This lead to me and Jenn making movie plans tonight, and since I'm leaving in twenty minutes and I want to covertly eat something without my mom knowing about it first, I'd better be finishing the unclimaxal post.

My name is Linda, and, uh, I......fuuuuuuuuck, YOU try and come up with things to say about me over and over again, see how you do. On with it!
I am sick of the idea of "love". I don't choose to believe right now that people are really capable of "love".

Give me pure black LUST to make me feel better about myself. Men! Lesbians! Tell me how fucking much you want to defile me! What dirty things you want to do to every inch of me! Make me feel like the vibrant sexual being that I am instead of this weeping pile of emotional shit that CANNOT feel loved.

Lust is the key. Describe the ache you have for the drippings of my body, tell me how often you've awaken in sweat just thinking about the way my body writhed over you.

I am SICK of love. I do NOT believe in love. And I haven't been REALLY turned on in so long it's frightening. I want

And I want it BEFORE I go to bed. Fuck me if I lose another night's sleep to wondering if I can make anyone love me the way I want them to....I can make EVERYONE lust for me if I want them to, and that's what I'm going to use tonight.

Come on, lavish that impropiety onto me. Make me feel it. Right ---fucking--- now. Tongues, fingers, cocks, dildos, shove them all into my mind and wherever else. I want to break a fucking sweat. It doesn't matter who you are. I always was a whore.

Love does not exist.
Love does not exist.
Love does not exist.

But I can touch lust with my hand like a swollen vulva.

My name is Linda and I'm sick of Leaps of Faith. I don't have faith, I don't even believe in faith. Love does not exist.

On with it!

Wednesday, August 22, 2001

Sober now,
I'm cold
I'm just a person
On my own
Nothing means a thing to me
Oh, nothing means a thing to me.

Kay's Choice, I'm not an addict is the only MP3 on my playlist, and I have it on continuous play.

I'm just read an e-mail I wrote to jeff.....a really fucking long time ago. Beside the part where I talked about Derek, it pretty much all still applies. Except that still doesn't seem to imply- I was happy between then and now. I just no longer am.

I'm gonna include the whole thing cause emily says, and is right, that I'm too lazy to edit or re-explain. If Jeff, or the others mentioned in it, has a problem with me doing this, they can tell me....well, elorza can anyway. But elorza never SEEMS to have a problem with anything.

Subj: "Sober now/ I'm cold, alone/ I'm just a person/ On my own"
Date: 03/04/2001
To: Jeff

"Kay's choice. "I'm not an addict."
There is no bad time for this song.

It starts out talking about either pot or crack, I'm thinking it's pot though because it seems to be innocent enough, in a gateway drug sort of way. And people who don't believe that pot is a gateway drug need to blow me and FUCKING like it.
I ever told you that the reason Andrew, my ex-best friend, ever was my best friend was because he told me he was going to do ecstasy and I decided that I couldn't take caring about him when I knew he was going to do that himself: I couldn't stop him, and I could not have dealt with worrying about him. He took this as a sign that I cared about him more than most people who have never talked with the use of their voices care about each other, and took the fact that he didn't want me to stop talking to him as a sign that he cared about me as much.
He doesn't think ecstasy will be detrimental to him because all of his friends who do it say it's fine, not addictive, not dangerous, and he trusts them. They don't know what I've found out from research: Ecstasy destroys the part of your brain that lets you feel, gradually.
It's been about nine month since Andrew became everything to me through his plans to do X, and he is still planning to do it. He is no longer definitively my best friend, and I have lost the ability to let myself think about how much I love him- I will not feel the loss anymore.

Ecstasy destroys the part of your brain that lets you feel, gradually.

Someday I will understand the symbolism. I'll know the moral. I'll be able to explain it in a way that others will be affected by it, and comprehend it, and learn from it. For now, it just sorta makes me think.

I just punched a wall. It fucking hurts.

I hate drugs.

The funny thing is, before I put on this song, this e-mail wasn't meant to be bitching about what the availiability of mind-altering substances has done to innocent bystanders like me. "Innocent victims is an outmoded idea- if you live on this planet your guilty, that's it, fuck you, next fucking case." Yeah. The point is that I'm not looking to take away your little escape, or maybe I am, but that wasn't on my agenda. I just hate my life right now.

In between paragraphs I just started crying and I really couldn't tell you why. Scratch that, I started sobbing. I don't actually cry anymore, I no longer possess the physical ability. There are only three things that have made me cry in maybe the past 6 months- the thought of my and Andrew Elorza's relationship, the thought of my and Andrew Lunt's relationship, and the rememberance of my dog. Possibly my father, once. But I can't cry anymore, for the most part. Maybe once every two weeks or so, where it used to be several times a day. They say that's the last stage of moderate depression. Then you go onto that stage where you lay in bed all day and do nothing.........bring it on, I guess. I hate my family, I hate school, the only thing in life I'm living for is the fabulously fantastic five. Not even my dreams anymore, I've pretty much come to the conclusion that I'll never have the motivation. I don't think I really want the motivation. It's all about the fabulously fantastic five....and Derek.

Derek Gierhan. Drummer of Triangle Sleep, the band I believe I described to you as being spiritual for me last time I was at your house. I've been talking to him online lately....a lot. While I'm trying to persue....some romantic scenario with him, he's proved impossibly important to me as a friend, while I've only considered him one for maybe a week. Less, I think. The fabulously fantastic five is...fabulously fantastic, but I don't really talk to you guys about what I'm feeling. Emily's one of the happy people and could never understand, Jeremey's one of those friends who needs me when he needs me and has no clue how to help or listen, Andrew Elorza....I don't need to need him, to be vulnerable there, he's only good for me about a fourth of the time....less, much less, and I don't really trust Andrew Lunt yet, especically when he keeps giving me reasons not too. You're my best resort for bitching, but you're going through so much more than me right now. I don't mean for that to sound...well, I don't want it to obligate you, trust me, I'm better when I'm helping than needing help. Either way, I've sort of exhausted my bitching rights to the fab-fan-five.

Yesterday I smashed my sister's keyboard on the wall. That sentence creates the impression that the keyboard was, in fact, broken, when in truth I was probably more damaged by the incident by it, but I don't want to belittle the feeling I had by expressing it with a sentence like "I picked up her keyboard and sort of tapped the wall with it, which hurt my finger". It was a good hard hit, it's just a damned resilient keyboard. I had a mini-mental breakdown, anyway, that was the point. And when I was done smashing things, I wrote to Derek...because, who else? I never actually finished the e-mail because Emily called halfway through and came over and I dry-sobbed in her general direction for a while. I'm not really making sense anymore but my point probably has something to do with the fact that I've known him for a week and sometimes I feel like he's all I have left. That's probably something really awful to write in an e-mail to someone whose an obvious place for me to turn...but....hey, your a writer, you understand. I feel everything, very little of it is rational and less is permanent.

I'm just a person on my own.

Maybe I should be trying this drug shit, huh?

"It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive"

I don't feel dead, I just feel like life is a trap....I want out so badly.
...and my father is in the other room playing music by the Everly Brother's that is on the movie "Bye, Bye love", a movie about fathers and daughters that makes me cry every time because I do not have one, despite the fact that there is a guitar playing and a voice sining in the other room that should be the voice of the man I could call Daddy.....

I have a phone call.


yeah....that's pretty much accurate. Life is kinda shit.

My name is Linda and I'm not an addict, but that's probably the only thing right with me. On with it.
If I had stored up everything I was thinking about posting for the past couple of hours, I would have to sit here for hours typing it. But, such is the case on any given day- I'm a writer, things that I want to write down go through my mind as constantly as air comes into my lungs.

I just typed "Lunts". Am I used to it, or do I miss him? I don't think I miss him...I don't really miss anyone lately. Except whoever I mentioned that I do miss on here. I'm nothing if not honest!!!

{That should tell ya a little about what I think of myself as of late, if'n you know me well enough. If not...ha-ha!}

I gotta return Dirty Work (and pay late fees) and go to the big apple to pay Tracy, who recognized me, the sister of her sister's ex-best friend from the 8th grade, and let me get off without paying the refund for the coke I got with a "free coke" bottle cap in the purse that held my cell phone and cd player as I ran today.

That's what I need to do, get to the damn store and buy myself a tape player...for to play tapes. While I'm running. Yes, it occured to me today that a CD player just will not cut it in certain situations, so I have decided to buy myself a tape player.

Didja get a load of that? I figured I needed a tape player today so I decided to buy myself one. I could go get one right now if I wanted. God-dayum, does it feel good to have money! With any luck, my two injured coworkers won't come back for the rest of the summer, and I'll keep rolling in the dough in their absence. As much as 4 hour shifts do suck. (I'm the victim here!!!)

The cap of the coke that I bought with the cap of a coke past says "Please play game again." Please. It SHOULD say: "Haha, we're taking all your money, you caffeine-fiendin' loser! See ya tomorrow....actually, more likely later tonight, huh sweetcakes? MWAH HA HA HA!"

Okay, they probably couldn't fit all that. Hmmm...what's something amply taunting that they could manage? How about just a reflective surface, so that I would look down at it and see, once again, the very visage of dependence. Or a little stick figure falling down and breaking in half, as if to say "Guess what this carbination, along with your NEVER drinking anything healthy, is doing to your bones?"

Hehe, Linkin Park is on..."I'm about to break!" takes on new meaning when picturing the afforementioned.

45 minutes before movieland closes.....should I rent a movie when I go to return dirty work? In lieu of, oh, let's say, going over to someone's house, talking, hanging out, or all the other cool things I could have been doing if I hadn't blown off everyone else to sit home, again, and wait for someone to call. Again.

Yes, I know I said "again" twice- it was deliberate. I got a lot of bitterness right now, and I'm about 99% sure he doesn't check my site.

Let's test this:

Shall we wait for a reaction? Yes. Let's.

Don't get me wrong- I'm entirely unable to ever actually be angry with him to any degree. I'm just resentful right now. Of, yeah, everything and everyone. But let's through it all at Jeff, being that he'll never know about it!

Goddamn, I can't even think of insults right now, they don't come naturally with him. Something about the way the light shines off of his head and his thick, thick, thiiiiick glasses just warms the cockles of my heart. Bastard.

He'd almost be as perfect as Nick, except that Nick is CONSIDERATE.

My name is Linda and I'm going to Movieland...any suggestions on what to rent? On with it.

My thumb smells of barbecue sauce, and I am only posting to kill time between eating and going for a run. (I almost just called it a "runny-run".....the andrews are inluencing me far too much)

Did I mention I saw Max today? I did, briefly, at the bank. Credit union. Whatever.

"There is something amiss
I am being insincere
In fact I don't mean any of this
Still my confession draws you near."
~Blues Traveller

Ah, Hook. Theme de Linda. Not my favorite song, but certainly the me-est one out there.

This was sorta a pointless post, as I am now on my way out. To listen to ani and run along the road.....yeah, and walk most of the way. But what do you want? I'm just tsarting up.

My name is Linda, and yes, that's right, I'm just tsarting. On with it!
"You're sure
There's a cure
And you have finally found it
You think
One drink
Will shrink you to
Your underground
And living down,
But it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
Till you wise up."
-Aimee Mann

Admittedly, I have no idea if those lyrics are actually what she says or not, but I suppose I'd be willing to bet it is.

Linda's piece of advice the day- never start anticipating who will be calling when you hear the phone ring. If it's even for you, it's not him.

This, of course, isn't ALWAYS true, but it's true often enough where thinking it's always true will save lives. Nothing worse than expecting someone you really want to call to call and picking the phone up only to be greeted by the voice of telemarketers, aunts, and your sister's friends over and over again.

"Will you meet me in the middle?
Will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little?
Just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it
I don't mind saying
I just can't make it."

You may notice a trend unfold as I continue to give advice of the day: It's completely based on my life giving no thought whatsoever to whether or not it would help or even apply to anyone else. But if you think there's a chance it might be just universal enough to apply to you, follow it. And live a happy, fulfilling life the way that I do.

:) sweet, sweet irony. It is my one true love.

My name is Linda and I do so enjoy fucking with people's heads. On with it.

Tuesday, August 21, 2001

Chad helps me point out why men are quicker learners than women:

Chad: :-P
FieryGwenivere: :-) what's this?
Chad: Um, what's what?
FieryGwenivere: why am I getting tongued?
Chad: So many places I could go with that statement :-)
Chad: But I won't, for a very good reason...
FieryGwenivere: :-) which is?
Chad: I know I'll lose.
FieryGwenivere: :-) good boy.

My name is Linda and I am, forevermore, "the master of scary, sexual bullshit." (Thank you, Chad!) On with it!

I admit to being condescending. I, however, will not ever apologize for not being the least bit interested in girl talk.

Had George and Jenn been interested in anything at all besides Denny's waiters, I would have talked to them more than I did. And I enjoyed seeing them, truly, I love them. But I was staying for hours so that I could see Jenn's disinteresting, albeit extremely hot, obsession.

Yes, I was probably...definitely condescending- the way I always treat everybody, without exception- and yes, I would have found a way to justify whatever the hell I wanted to do. Such is my nature, and it's an awful one at that. None of Emily's complaints really bother me, actually. She's right, I'm a bitch, I know it. She has every right to be pissed, if she so desires.

What pisses me the fuck off is estrogen. She could not tell me she was pissed. She never tells me if she's mad at me, I read it on Diaryland.

If a guy thinks you've done something shitty, he lets you know. This, right here, is why I FUCKING LOVE MEN.

The only thing I resent is the implication that I was treating george and Jenn like shit- I treated George and Jenn the same way I always do. If they have complaints about it, they can let me know, but if they wanted to get pissed about the way I act they would have had a reason long before last night. And if they WERE pissed long before last night, then I'm pissed, once again, at estrogen, cause I sure as hell didn't know about it.

I don't believe, however, in blaming people for shit they post, or else I'd be a flaming hypocrite. Like I said, don't spare feelings when it comes to things like this. My anger comes from the lack of expression outside of these damn things, not the expression with it.

My name is Linda and I don't believe there is anything on the earth worse than estrogen...cept that it makes breats bigger. On with it!

Now Barry Manilow is depressing me. Yes, that's right. Barry Manilow. No, I am not ashamed. (Lie.)

"Cause somewhere down the road
Our roads are gonna cross again
It doesn't matter when
Cause somewhere down the road
I know that heart of yours will come to see
That you belong with me."

Okay, that was the WRONG part of the song to quote if I wanted to illustrate why it makes me depressed. That part just pisses me the fuck off. Maybe she doesn't want to belong with him. Maybe she wants to belong with herself.

Maybe he's still singing about his beagle.

Chris apparently thinks Jeff is a dickhead- Chris, you should know, has never met, talked to, or psychicly communed with, Jeff. But from the way I talk, all of my friends must hate each other. Because I'm so mistreated, so hurt, so bruised and beaten by all these bastards who constantly mistreat me! I'm the victim here! I'm the victim here!

This is a blatant lie. I'm the one who mistreats, hurts, beats and bruises....and speaking of bruises, Nick's wearing a Linda original. Yup, yet another guy friend has been inducted into the "Hall of Linda's Victims of Physical Abuse to the Point of Being Made Puffy And Blue". Well, I guess it's not all guys in there...Em's in there, too, if you count lips.

Jeremey is asking how I am, Chris is asking how work was, and I don't know how to answer either of them. I'm not really used to either of them.....anyone being overly concerned with how I'm feeling. (I'm the victim here! I'm the victim here!)

Listening to "Wise Up" by Aimee Mann.....the one thing of worth that came from my watching that god-awful magnolia movie. There's this scene in what is unfortunately the middle of the movie where all the characters are sitting, looking solemn, singing it. Some of the characters singing it are already dead during this time, but there corpses carry a tune surprisingly well.

Jeremey has just called me "Dayglow". At first I thought I misunderstood what he was talking about, like it was a word I didn't know, then I realized it was a Nickname he randomly gave me and I smiled. Maybe the first sincere time all day.

Jeremey: Just one of those moods, Dayglow?
FieryGwenivere: .....dayglow?
Jeremey: I was looking for a name (quickly) and realized that I already have a Sunshine and Moonshine...
Jeremey: ...and that's the best I could come up with. I know, it's bad.
FieryGwenivere: nah, it's nice.

I am Dayglow because he has a Sunshine and a Moonshine....I know I'm lucky for him to even think I deserve a nickname, but I wish I was dayglow for a real reason. I wish I was dayglow because....because I'm the reason he lived to watch the sunset after some long days I helped him through or because of the way the sunlight hits my complexion......I wish I was Dayglow, or whatever I am to him, because he's looked long and hard at what I am and realized that it was worth more than he had previously chose to acknowledge.

I am being needy again. I know that Jeremey loves me, when I do, I just....don't believe it. I don't think I really believe that anyone loves me, at all.......maybe that's my problem, lately. I've lost my ability to believe.

I am the victim here!

*sigh* 6:58 and if Jeff is going to call me tonight, like I asked him to, he will withint fifteen minutes or I might just have to do something desperate, like go for a run, finish listening to my new Ani CD's, or update this fucking page again. *sigh*

My name is Linda, and I am the victim here. On with it.
I think I'm pretty numb lately.

I've had some people telling me things that normally would affect me, and right now they just come off as.....either nothing at all or just kinda obnoxious. I have not been accepting complements or feeling love- I'm sort of stuck in between high and low right now. And to me, staying there is worse than being low.

Not that I haven't been having a decently good time. Denny's last night was pretty cool...well, walking through auburn at night with Nick, standing outside of Chris's house, getting scared of every freaking noise and having to pee, that was probably the highlight. Oh, oh, but the movie Dirty Work is fucking awesome. I have to return that today, don't I? Damn.

Ben has "noticed I'm away, however, sent me a message just to harass me". I miss Ben, his physical presence, that is. Along with the physical presence of most every male friend I have. Another reason why Denny's last night ruled- lounging on Nick, holding chris's hand- he has the softest skin- wearing Nick's hat and Chris's glasses. Chris's stare and Nick's squin- uh, I mean "glare". I am perfectly content to hang out with guys my whole life. To be the Kate O'Brian of every group.

I just put on "The World I Know" by Collective Soul...oh, THIS is good for me. But if I can get really really fucking depressed, then I'll be out of this damned middle ground. Next stop: Champagne High by Sister Hazel. Fucking....painful.

No one was home except for my dad to pick me up from work today. He came and we went to rite aid and then we bought ice cream. He asked me what was pina colada flavored and if it had ice cream in it. I special ordered it for him so that it would. This may sound like a bonding experience, but it was, in reality, silent and awkward. Cathy's always saying the reason he doesn't love us is that he sees us as ungrateful- he worked his way up from being very poor when he was young and we don't understand all the luxury his money brings us, so we don't think to thank him enough for it. I made a point to tell him thank you for the ice cream.

"Thank you."
"What'd *mumble mumble*?"
"What'd you say?"
"Thank you."

Perhaps he hasn't had enough practice saying "you're welcome.". Perhaps I wasn't welcome.

When we got in the house he started searching for money for something, and asked me if there was any in the house. I asked him how much, for what? He said a few bucks, for a haircut. I knew I had a few bucks left for the week from last night, so I went to find it for him, but I couldn't. I searched everywhere, but my miserable three dollars or whatever was missing. I found a dollar fifty or so in change, and I gave that to him, apologizing because I didn't know where the rest was. He didn't say anything.

"Wagon's been hitched to a star
Well, he'll be your thing that's new
What little I have you can borrow
'Cause I'm old, and I'm blue."

My mother came home a few minutes ago, and as I was halfway done with that paragraph, he came in here and returned my $1.52 in change. I said thank you. He said nothing and left. I wish I could cry.

Where will I be when I stop wondering why?

My name is Linda and I just don't know anymore. On with it.

Let's break this down:

I have the friends that expect FAR too much of me.
The friends who don't let me show them how much they can expect from me.
The friends that are so impressed by what I already showed them that they expect me to give out anytime. (And may very well be right)
And the friends that take me for what I give them, as I give it...fucking ay, I love you, Jeff.

Damn me and my inability to just go to bed. And the fact that I have to get up tomorrow morning...the fact that I can't just sleep until I'm so bored of it that I actually feel like facing that god awful world.

Yes, that's right, I fucking hate the world. Yet again. But I love my boys. Trick is getting them to love me.

My name is Linda and I'm out. On with it.

Monday, August 20, 2001

Not really cool right now.

Nick's father came and got him early, and while I'll probably see him in an hour, I apparently miss him. This would bother me, except that I don't mind being needy in the direction of Nick, as has always strived to see me, include me in his life, and be included in mine. He really should be a fab five....stupendous six. Whatever. I'll have to review that.

I love that he knows, and apparently likes, Angel Eyes by the Jeff Healy Band.

"So tonight, *mumbles*
Stars above
How did I ever win your love?
What did I do?
What did I say?
To turn your Angel Eyes my way."

I don't think I've felt as though anyone loves me that way since I left Mark- I remember it always made me happy while I was with him, whether or not he knew about it, because he made me feel as though he was astounded, and wordlessly amazed, that I could love him, that he was worthy. I think I loved that about him, perhaps more than anything else.

Don't get me wrong....I don't want to fab five to try to make me feel this way......I love them, and I understand that there isn't anything wrong with them realizing WHY I love them. It's almost sick that I want them to be astonished by my ability to see the beauty in them. But sometimes a girl wants to feel, you know, in a league of her own.

I couldn't even picture Mark loving anyone else. That was good. That's why I trusted him so damn much, I think.

Now, of course, Rich Kid is going to take this whole thing to heart and try to edit himself to make me feel that way, not understanding that some things have their place, and it's with other people. But this isn't even purely about's about love, in general. Not that I need to ward off the efforts of the rest of the fab five to give me this feeling again- they aren't proactive. (I edited this from the entirely unfair thought that I really have, which was: "They don't give enough of a shit about me." Yes, virginia, I am an irrational bitch.)

I'm resenting so much right now. I want to be held. Not by Rich Kid. Not by Emily. Someone...I don't know, protective somehow. Big brother figure. Something like that. I want my hair stroked, I want to be told that it will all be alright.

"You're the best- exclamation point."

Oh, god. I want Greg.

A lot.

My name is Linda and "I don't know why, but I'm feeling so sad. I long to try, something I never had. Got a moon above me, but there's no one to love me, lover man oh where can you be?" On with it.
hehehehehehehe, nick does not like coldness. He makes the following noise when one melts an ice cube against the back of his neck: "AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

I should point out, however, he does not do it in Nick's voice, he does it in the voice of a 60-year-old female cartoon character.

Hey...Nick....guess what? That's wet now. ;-)

Now I've put on Limp Bizkit just to bother him, and he's really regretting coming over.

He touched the end of my nose. *spazzes* He must die.

MY name is Linda, and I must kill Nick. On with it.

Short update- Nick's here, I can't be on for long.

I can't walk. My legs keep giving out beneath me from all that running yesterday. All that less than two miles.....ugh.

Listening to Anna Begins. I had a dream last night with Jenn and Andrew and Chris, and it ended with me just totally blowing up at Andrew about certain was tremendously realistic.

Anna Begins HURTS LIKE A BITCH right now.

"Then I start to think about the consequences
I don't get no sleep
In a quiet room."


I gotta bathe. Yes, I'm aware Nick's here. You think I give a fuck? Exhibitionist....or at least I like to think so.

My name is Linda and I'm dirty...on so many levels. On with it!

My head and my stomach are competing for the prestigious title of "Most in pain of Linda's body's parts.". I'm not sure who's winning. Perhaps if we take an in-depth look of WHY each of these body parts are in pain.

-My stomach- My stomach likes to be in pain. It's a hobby.

-My Head- My head is throbbing, in my opinion, for a much more overt reason, and I shalll slowly, painfully tell you why.

I survived Ice Storm '98
I survived THE MONSTER roller coaster at Busch Gardens, Alaska.

And the newest addition to the collection:

I survived the move "Magnolia"

AAAAAAH! *watches as all run away, screaming in terror.*

That was simply the most mind-melting cinematic experience ever. I don't want to give away all the delicious details, but let me make this perfectly clear- DO NOT watch this movie unless you're on some kinda of drug. While watching it, I wasn't entirely sure that I was NOT on some kind of drug. After the movie, I NEEDED some kind of drug.

While it's cinematography is, no doubt, excellent, and their is potential for deeper meaning, a sober person should not view this film unless it's an attempt to punish themselves for something.

"I can't believe it, I just hit a guy and kept driving! He could be hurt! He could be bleeding...or dead! Oh, what can I do? I would turn myself in, but I have a wife and family to support......little Timmy's operation! I can't go to prison! But how will I ever live with the guilt? What could be ample punishment. What's this? Magnolia is on pay-per-view tonight? Oh, thank you god! Thank you! *starts to sob*"

I don't know, though....unless that guy hit the man, got out of the car, stole his wallet, raped him, THEN kept driving, I still think he should stop about 45 minutes before the end. He's had it hard enough.

I kept myself entertained, at least. Towards the end of the movie, I just kept picturing a drunken group of female (sometimes gay) frogs in a karioke bar singing "It's raining men"---- that would have been a lot more amusing had I been able to say someone else thought it.

At any rate, should you decide to watch the movie, I'll give you a preview of what it's like: go to and sit there for a good hour. You'll see.

My name is Donnie Smith and I have love to give! (Not really) On with it!

Sunday, August 19, 2001

"You make me come
You make me complete
You make my completely miserable."

Started to write this, then realized I MUST do my newsletter sometime tonight, so I'll just say the boring emotional shit I wouldn't put in it:

And....uh....think that's it. Well, that works.

If y'ain't signed up for the newsletter, you are missing out. *Really. So send me a little somethin' somethin at and I'll sign ya right up. Ya.

*not really

My name is Linda and my teeth feel funny. On with it!
P.S.- Yes, emily, I'm satiated.

Read yesterday's 10:13 entry than click here to know what the fuck I'm talking about. That'll only work till she updates, though.

My name is Linda, and I'm REALLY going this time.

It's come to my attention that BOTH of the fab five members that I used to be desperately in love with are now with.....girls who used to be their best friends with relative ease as I was struggling to mean anything to them, on any degree they would give, platonically or romantically.

If I weren't so damned good at getting over people, this would bother me. -Please refer to last entry- (IE- the part where I talked about Jon and Steenson, two guys who treated me like shit and yet I still harbor some amount of emotions for simply because I NEVER completely get over people)

Let's complete the circle- I'll fall in love with Jeff and he'll get back together with Kristen, Emily will start dating.....ah, shit, I don't know, Nikki (sp.) or something, and then Rich Kid can dump me for Amber.

This, of course, is me being drama-queen-esque: I am as over as Jeremey and Elorza as I ever am over anyone, and I am exceedingly happy for both of them. Three cheers for the happy couples!

Hip hip hooray! (Jeff will get the hidden irony there, that is, if he ever reads this....and if elorza is reading this, jeff probably isn't, because this is a backwards world we live in, and I'm the backwards queen.....hmmm, I like that. Sounds like female pink floyd lyrics.)

I PROMISED myself I'd be in bed by 1:30. Note the time I posted this.

My name is Linda and I'm no good at keeping deals I make with myself. On with it!
So pissed at the internet. I just got an e-mail from Serena- a forward that probably THOUSANDS of people have seen by now, and at least 90% of it was stolen straight from George Carlin's acts without citing him at all. Bastards!

Derek's entire info is a quote by Einstein, but he didn't mention that either. Bastard!

hate Hate HATE HATE being needy, but I reeeeeeaaally am. And I stretch the same words that Emily generally would.... I wonder if she got that from me or I got that from her. Either way......I miss him in the weeping of the rain, I want him in the shrinking of the tide.

That was a quote by Edna St. Vincent Millay, by the way....I don't attempt to take credit for her genius the way some would plaguerize Carlin, single greatest comedic mind on earth. In the context of the sonnet, it wouldn't apply to this situation, as he's someone I haven't actually lost yet.

Oh, hold me now, I feel contagious!....
Don't fall away
And leave me to myself
Don't fall away
And leave love bleedin' in my hands
In my hands again.

I must be in a musical...../poetic mood tonight. UGH! HATE HATE HATE HATE being needy. I'm supposed to be independent....I've been forcing myself, for a long damned time now, to be independent. A whole shitload of sacrifice comes along with never ever wanting another person to the extent that you would cease to function without them, trust me, but I've pretty much done it.

And, hey, I'm still functioning now, just needily. Damn damn damn.

A second link has been added to Elorza's profile that suggests he's been here- another blogger site. Plastic Bollocks or something. Hold on, I'm checking this out.

Okay, I didn't get that at all. At all. Kinda had the reaction anyone reading this site who didn't know me would have...but, honestly, who the hell would check this site that didn't know me? (Now, to get onto what I was going to say yesterday, which fits NICELY right here.) It astounds me...wait, let me try that again: It ASTOUNDS me even just that Elorza has been here. I always presumed he really didn't give a fuck what I said/thought/felt/etc. That he took me as this altruistic force who was obviously a better person than him (his assumed opinion, not my own) but really not interesting enough to care about talking to/reading about/bothering with in general, beyond the obligatory.

Perhaps that's not true. It feels true. But I know I didn't ALWAYS feel that way. Things were great last summer.....amazing. Flawless. I was still convinced that I could be completely giving if I cared about someone enough. Then I fucked up with him......I guess it'd never even registered before that there is shit I actually WON'T put up with....had never know. Certainly didn't find out through Jeremey. Put up with soooo much from Jeremey.

J: "Linda, I'm completely incompetent as to how to act around anyone at all with breasts....except you....but that's because I could never think of you sexually, I knew you before you were pretty!"
L: "You think I'm pretty?"
J: "Uh....I can't answer that question. It might be complementary to you, I can't do that. It's in my contract. I can shrug if you like. Want me to shrug?"
L: *sigh* "Nevermind. What do you need help with?"
J: "Okay, how to I approach her?"
L: "Just think of something to sa-"
J: "No, I mean, approach her. Get close enough to her so that she can hear me speak. Be in her proximity."
L: "Uh...first, you have to look for her."
J: "SHIT! How?"
L: "....with your eyes."
J: "Eyes? BRILLIANT! Let me make a note of that. Okay, once I do that...."
L: *ahem* "Walk over to her."
J: "....w.....alk?"
L: "That thing you do with your feet."
J: "Holy shit, is that what it is?"

I could go on for a while. It comes as a much-needed relief that Jeremey has finally taken enough notes to work on his own and, yes, land himself a victi- *ahem* girlfriend. Let's all give props to Kacie, who must be exceedingly patient to be going through with this.

J: *taps her on her shoulder*
K: "What now, Jeremey?"
J: *whispers* "What am I supposed to say to you when I first see you?"
K: *siiiiigh* "Say "Hi", Jeremey."
J: "AH, of course!" *scribbles fervently at notepad. "You ready?"
K: "Yes, I'm ready. Go ahead."
K: *siiiiiigh*

Jeremey was complaining a few days ago that I do not bash him enough in my newsletter...which y'all should be subscribed to. I hope this makes up for it.

I gotta get around to doing that, too. It's been a while.

It's been a while for a lot of things...HATE HATE HATE being needy.

I just went through this whole big-ass thing about wanting Jon to check my page and songs that still remind me of jeremy steenson, and talking to myself, and all that bullshit, and I don't feel like writing it again, because Elorza has IMed me as he so rarely does- getting better though he is- and I want to devote some attention to him. So, yeah, let's overview:
I'm a pathetic loser.
And now you all know about it.

My name is Linda and I am not ashamed of......the fact that I really should be ashamed. On with it!