The weight war wages on, forcing me to tears a record four (five?) times today. As of midnight, I was ready to resign myself to anorexia, having- ironically- made myself nauseous by my own attempts at inducing bulemia, but in a long talk with Casey, I got the attention and recognition I duly needed, and followed up the conversation with a healthy 2 AM feeding of turkey bacon, pop tarts, chips and soda. I'm the much-abused and exploited middle weight class. Cry for me.
With everyone else at college, Casey has become the second most prominent person in my life. I wake up to Zack, spend the day with him, get two and a half to three hours to myself when he's at work, hang out with him more until 11, and then go online to talk to Casey. Weekdays. Weekends, from now on, are seemingly going to be divided between my current boyfriend, my ex boyfriends (mostly Jeff, intermittently Andrew and Mark), and my partner in crime, which is the unofficial title I've given him when asked by anyone else who he is- this comes from the way he is the person I most long to throw off the soul-killing restraints of soceity with an act like a young, irresponsible person, and, of course, the fact that he is my partner in our porn-and-writing webmastery. But aside from the imagined and reviewed debauchery, he's more than that. Casey and I get each other. The shit we have in common is just different than the types of things I have in common with other people, and- dare I say- more important. Whether we're talking anti-feministic shit or analyzing, over and over again, the depth of our relationship- which I think surprises us both- Casey is the one person I don't worry about running out of subject matter with. And if we ever do find a lasting awkward silence, that's nothing a spontaneous roadtrip into the sunset can't fix.
Another wonder of the world is Derek. Derek was some guy who randomly graced Elorza's buddy list after one or two conversations they'd had a while before. I first started seeking him after Elorza stole a line from his profile- "eroding the human soul is my anti-drug"- for his away message, and I just had to know who the genius behind the line was. Derek- a New Jersian, like Elorza- is incredible to talk to. He has the friendly, carefree disposition of a pot-smoking hippie without the...idiocy. He is, in fact, one of the smartest- if not the smartest person I've ever encountered online...or in the real world, I think. This partially makes me feel bad about myself and my ability to measure up, and partly just awes me- his articulation, wit and depth are fascinating, and his ability to appreciate everything in life- from typewriters to hand-to-hand combat to satisfying conversation will keep him on my buddy list for a long time to come. Hopefully, I'll learn a few things from him. Evidently, he writes. Like all of the world's best people.
In other news, I started "The Giver" yesterday. It's got me hooked so far- young adult books are the best as far as getting you hooked into what's going to happen next, thinking about the story even when you aren't reading it, and generally packing all the punch that I missed out on appreciating when I was younger and searching for a more literal meaning of the tagline "Reading will bring you to new worlds!" Always disappointed me that I didn't feel transformed onto the pages. And that's why I never got into reading. And that's why I'm the fat wreck you see before you today.
Hmmm...where the fuck did that come from?
Anyway, it's 3 am, and if I'm going to balance my schedule well enough to have my writing and webmastering done for our site's launch on saturday as well as having the book read by April 1st, mine and Michaela's chosen day, I should go do a chapter or two. Who knows? Maybe it will transport me into a new world....a world where Casey and I can take long, daring road trips and make stops in New Jersey to see Derek, and, hell, throw Elorza in there, and I will lose fifteen pounds in the exercise of just talking to the both of them about porn, and typewriters, and stupid, wonderful things we all have in common.
Forever and ever. On with it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
Linda and Casey, on our site, the artwork I designed for it, Kris' webcomic, and Chad
Casey: I like the picture of you. I wouldn't be too impressed with the message next to it (The girl your mother warned you about) if it weren't so true.
Linda: yeah, at first I thought the message was somewhat contrived, but I realized it fits too well to replace.
Casey: exactly. no one's going to be able to appreciate this site like we will.
Linda: and that's the beauty of it.
Casey: so why are you worried about traffic?
Linda: it'd be nice if somebody else appreciated it like we did.
Casey: but other people just aren't us.
Linda: exactly.
Linda: And until they become us, this is too good to give up. We got porn, we got writing, we got...well, each other, not to sound exactly the way that sounded.
Linda: Excuse me while I go wring out my maxi pad.
Casey: heh. I was about to say something to the effect.
Casey: but yeah, this is what I could never quite have with ben.
Linda: haha, wasn't he supposed to be forcibly involved at one point?
Linda: Reason why I'm over Chad, Number one: (In reference to Kris’s Unusual Comics, Number 21)
Chad: And, the Kool Aid man does burst through walls, btw
Linda: oh, man, was kris bitching about that to you?
Chad: Yes
Linda: I'll give him that, but at the same time- would anyone have gotten that without explanation?
Chad: I did.
Casey: my problem with it is that the comic is no funnier having known that.
Casey: if he laughed, bitchslap the little bitch.
Linda: oh...my...god
Linda: Chad: I said I got it, but it wasn't great.
Chad: Only one I've ever really laughed at was the baby shower one
Casey: I just bitchslapped my monitor.
On with it.
Casey: I like the picture of you. I wouldn't be too impressed with the message next to it (The girl your mother warned you about) if it weren't so true.
Linda: yeah, at first I thought the message was somewhat contrived, but I realized it fits too well to replace.
Casey: exactly. no one's going to be able to appreciate this site like we will.
Linda: and that's the beauty of it.
Casey: so why are you worried about traffic?
Linda: it'd be nice if somebody else appreciated it like we did.
Casey: but other people just aren't us.
Linda: exactly.
Linda: And until they become us, this is too good to give up. We got porn, we got writing, we got...well, each other, not to sound exactly the way that sounded.
Linda: Excuse me while I go wring out my maxi pad.
Casey: heh. I was about to say something to the effect.
Casey: but yeah, this is what I could never quite have with ben.
Linda: haha, wasn't he supposed to be forcibly involved at one point?
Linda: Reason why I'm over Chad, Number one: (In reference to Kris’s Unusual Comics, Number 21)
Chad: And, the Kool Aid man does burst through walls, btw
Linda: oh, man, was kris bitching about that to you?
Chad: Yes
Linda: I'll give him that, but at the same time- would anyone have gotten that without explanation?
Chad: I did.
Casey: my problem with it is that the comic is no funnier having known that.
Casey: if he laughed, bitchslap the little bitch.
Linda: oh...my...god
Linda: Chad: I said I got it, but it wasn't great.
Chad: Only one I've ever really laughed at was the baby shower one
Casey: I just bitchslapped my monitor.
On with it.
Friday, March 21, 2003
My throat hurts. Zack left me naked and in bed an hour ago, and I thought it a good excuse to go straight to sleep. But, as it turned out, I was too bored to do so- I don't know how that works- and when I'm bored, I think about eating. And when I think about eating, nowadays, I think about not eating. And I drive myself insane.
Here's the dilemna- I hate my body. Wait, no, I didn't phrase that right. I HATE my body. It used to be that I could put up with it, but suddenly I see it or feel it without a sense of failure and repulsion washing over me. Two possible reasons for this that I can think of, and, surprise surprise, they both have to do with my loving fiancé: A, I'm simply naked more than I used to be, therefore forced to think of my body more often or B, I finally have something I desperately don't want to lose.
When I explained it to him that way, his immediate reaction was the same misconception I bet I've just afforded all of you- I don't believe Zack would- nessecarily- leave me if I were to gain a substantial amount weight. But, to put it more bluntly than I did in my conversation with him, I do think it would put some undesirable strains on our relationship- as if there's any more room for undesirable strains- whether it be because of him genuinely finding me less attractive or my irrational assumptions that he did and the ensuing estrogenical madness. (If shakespeare can make up thousands of words, I figure I, the next great literary mind of this age, can claim the license for "estrogenical".) I would never get over the self-loathing, as well as the paranoia that he was looking at every other woman in the world-- something I seem to fear when anything goes wrong between he and I-- and, in my misery, I would definitely make his duties as my better half less amiable. (And why IS it that they bothered making "amiable" and "amicable" two different words?) Simply put, I never had someone that I wanted so badly to be beautiful for. I could put up with my body if I were confident that it would stay the way it is, but, mostly, in my mind it seems imminent that I will inherit my mother's body, and THAT scares me.
It started out that I blamed others for my insecurities- models, TV, the impossible standard of beauty. And part of my big plan still stems from that- I am officially boycotting any commercials with models in them (which is to say I look away when they're on TV. People tend to find my wording of that laughable....you know who you are, screw you!) Soon after, I looked within myself for the problem, and came up with two things- a horrible diet and utter inanimacy. I eat the wrong food, and, more importantly, I do so when I'm bored. I do nothing all day long so I don't really burn a lot of calories with my action, and- this is where it gets all tricky- I'm bored a lot. You see how that works? Then, add into the mix that my boredom with life has me feeling bad about myself anyway, and you've got a recipe for the teenage girl blues.
Dieting and exercise aren't so much my forté, so I'm taking a rather relaxed approach: be more active (including things like wrestling around with Zack on a daily basis, playing basketball with whoever's up for it, and dancing in the shower the way I used to- which also helps for prom preparation.) and not letting myself eat out of boredom instead of hunger. The second is harder by faaaaaaaaaaar.
Thus, we get a shitty entry like this- this is me attempting to amuse myself long enough so that I won't give in and eat. This time of the night is a danger zone- I'm alone, with no boyfriend to coach me, and my only real options for entertainment are the internet and TV, neither of which are generally exciting enough to distract me. There's two books I'm in the middle of that maybe I should start thinking about making a dent in, and Micheala- my 12-year-old cousin- and I are going to read "The Giver" at the same time and discuss it. I have to have that done by April 1st, and that just may become my saving grace. Also, maybe a new hula hoop. Or something.
So, while I'm writing this, I might as well ask for the help of all of you- there's some options here: I need people to be "active" with me. I need people to either keep me entertained, or not let me eat just because I'm bored. And I could probably use some people to argue with me about the fact that I'm gaining weight at all- even if they don't mean it.
This post is pathetic. I apologize for it. Seriously. You deserve better. I'm going to get a drink of some non-fattening water, probably pop some sleepings pills and stave off boredom with unconsciousness. What easier way to lose weight?
On with it.
Here's the dilemna- I hate my body. Wait, no, I didn't phrase that right. I HATE my body. It used to be that I could put up with it, but suddenly I see it or feel it without a sense of failure and repulsion washing over me. Two possible reasons for this that I can think of, and, surprise surprise, they both have to do with my loving fiancé: A, I'm simply naked more than I used to be, therefore forced to think of my body more often or B, I finally have something I desperately don't want to lose.
When I explained it to him that way, his immediate reaction was the same misconception I bet I've just afforded all of you- I don't believe Zack would- nessecarily- leave me if I were to gain a substantial amount weight. But, to put it more bluntly than I did in my conversation with him, I do think it would put some undesirable strains on our relationship- as if there's any more room for undesirable strains- whether it be because of him genuinely finding me less attractive or my irrational assumptions that he did and the ensuing estrogenical madness. (If shakespeare can make up thousands of words, I figure I, the next great literary mind of this age, can claim the license for "estrogenical".) I would never get over the self-loathing, as well as the paranoia that he was looking at every other woman in the world-- something I seem to fear when anything goes wrong between he and I-- and, in my misery, I would definitely make his duties as my better half less amiable. (And why IS it that they bothered making "amiable" and "amicable" two different words?) Simply put, I never had someone that I wanted so badly to be beautiful for. I could put up with my body if I were confident that it would stay the way it is, but, mostly, in my mind it seems imminent that I will inherit my mother's body, and THAT scares me.
It started out that I blamed others for my insecurities- models, TV, the impossible standard of beauty. And part of my big plan still stems from that- I am officially boycotting any commercials with models in them (which is to say I look away when they're on TV. People tend to find my wording of that laughable....you know who you are, screw you!) Soon after, I looked within myself for the problem, and came up with two things- a horrible diet and utter inanimacy. I eat the wrong food, and, more importantly, I do so when I'm bored. I do nothing all day long so I don't really burn a lot of calories with my action, and- this is where it gets all tricky- I'm bored a lot. You see how that works? Then, add into the mix that my boredom with life has me feeling bad about myself anyway, and you've got a recipe for the teenage girl blues.
Dieting and exercise aren't so much my forté, so I'm taking a rather relaxed approach: be more active (including things like wrestling around with Zack on a daily basis, playing basketball with whoever's up for it, and dancing in the shower the way I used to- which also helps for prom preparation.) and not letting myself eat out of boredom instead of hunger. The second is harder by faaaaaaaaaaar.
Thus, we get a shitty entry like this- this is me attempting to amuse myself long enough so that I won't give in and eat. This time of the night is a danger zone- I'm alone, with no boyfriend to coach me, and my only real options for entertainment are the internet and TV, neither of which are generally exciting enough to distract me. There's two books I'm in the middle of that maybe I should start thinking about making a dent in, and Micheala- my 12-year-old cousin- and I are going to read "The Giver" at the same time and discuss it. I have to have that done by April 1st, and that just may become my saving grace. Also, maybe a new hula hoop. Or something.
So, while I'm writing this, I might as well ask for the help of all of you- there's some options here: I need people to be "active" with me. I need people to either keep me entertained, or not let me eat just because I'm bored. And I could probably use some people to argue with me about the fact that I'm gaining weight at all- even if they don't mean it.
This post is pathetic. I apologize for it. Seriously. You deserve better. I'm going to get a drink of some non-fattening water, probably pop some sleepings pills and stave off boredom with unconsciousness. What easier way to lose weight?
On with it.
Monday, March 17, 2003
Sunday, March 16, 2003
Take the "What sexual dysfunction are you?" Quiz at Scarleteen.com!
And life makes sense again!
No, the above isn't actually a link. That banner- if you can actually see it, I'm having some trouble hosting the image- was actually attached to the article that link will lead you to that explains the little-known condition of Vaginismus. This condition is defined as an involuntary spasm of the vaginal muscles causing tightening during attempted intercourse causing it to be extremely uncomfortable, painful, or entirely impossible. And knowing this makes me really happy.
As relatively few of you know, on and off again over the past several months, Zack and I have been attempting to have sex, and, for reasons unbeknownst to us until tonight, failing miserably. This has been a source of extreme tension and frustration for me, causing me to have such doubts on a wide, wide variety of topics, from my own phyiscal competency to the validity of our relationship. After a particularly poignant series of failures tonight, I spent the better part of the day feeling really really fucking bad, and wondering if we would be able to weather it- in short, I thought I might lose him.
The site explains the symptoms of the condition- that fit me to a tee, and explains the tampon trauma incident before prom last year- and also the treatments, which are both psychological and physical and sound, well, downright fucking nasty. They include, to name a few, couples therapy, the use of "dilators" (say it with me now: eeeewwwww....), and hypnosis, to name a few, and I do NOT look forward to the gyno appointment whereby my doctor "simply inserts a finger into the vagina and watches for a tight, involuntary muscle contraction." Oooooh, is THAT all.
But, as absolutely horrid as all of this sounds...It's curable. It's fixable. I'm not the one and only person in the world to ever go through this and, most importantly: I'm not going to lose my Zack.
So congratulations to me! I have Vaginismus! :-)
On with it!
Thursday, March 13, 2003
"All I am is wanting you."
This song is Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack.
People just keep on posing challenges for us...and the sources just keep getting more credible. This is unfortunate for me, being that it's hard enough to keep those goddamned cynical voices at the back of my mind quiet when I'm the only bastard on duty. But with help, this just keeps getting harder for my bettter half...and for my better half, come to think of it. Freaky double-entendre sneaking in there, and it's not even sexual- where's the fun in that? This shit is messing with me, and it's getting harder...but it feels better when I write it, when I can read what I wrote. It feels more true to see it in words. Let's go over it all, shall we?
Recap:
We're young. I still believe it.
We're nuts. I still believe it.
We're inexperienced. I still believe it.
We're uneducated. I still believe it.
We're totally different. I still believe it.
We're too alike. I still believe it.
We haven't told our parents yet. I still believe it.
We're living in a soceity where this sort of thing is damn near impossible. I still believe it.
He's not a Matchbox Twenty fan. I still believe it.
He's not making up his own mind about things. I still believe it.
He doesn't love life the way that I do. I still believe it.
He doesn't love Christmas. I still believe it.
I really want to make him love christmas. I still believe it.
I'm trying to change him. I still believe it.
He's changing me. I still believe it.
The sky is falling. I still believe it.
The world is ending. I still believe it.
The Red Sox won the world series. I still believe it.
We're in love, I am losing the core of my cynicysm, and I am happy with it. Hell has just frozen over. I still believe it.
We'll try it, we'll make it, we'll love it, he'll love me. And I'll believe and believe until the day it's all diminished beneath me, and if it's a mistake, then I'll tell everyone- with their satisfied looks on their sad little faces- what I told him a few days ago: if this all blows over, if it all goes down, this was still the best time of my life.
"And I wanted you to know
If you reap what you would sew
I would take it blow by blow.
All I am is yours."
On with it.
This song is Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack.
People just keep on posing challenges for us...and the sources just keep getting more credible. This is unfortunate for me, being that it's hard enough to keep those goddamned cynical voices at the back of my mind quiet when I'm the only bastard on duty. But with help, this just keeps getting harder for my bettter half...and for my better half, come to think of it. Freaky double-entendre sneaking in there, and it's not even sexual- where's the fun in that? This shit is messing with me, and it's getting harder...but it feels better when I write it, when I can read what I wrote. It feels more true to see it in words. Let's go over it all, shall we?
Recap:
We're young. I still believe it.
We're nuts. I still believe it.
We're inexperienced. I still believe it.
We're uneducated. I still believe it.
We're totally different. I still believe it.
We're too alike. I still believe it.
We haven't told our parents yet. I still believe it.
We're living in a soceity where this sort of thing is damn near impossible. I still believe it.
He's not a Matchbox Twenty fan. I still believe it.
He's not making up his own mind about things. I still believe it.
He doesn't love life the way that I do. I still believe it.
He doesn't love Christmas. I still believe it.
I really want to make him love christmas. I still believe it.
I'm trying to change him. I still believe it.
He's changing me. I still believe it.
The sky is falling. I still believe it.
The world is ending. I still believe it.
The Red Sox won the world series. I still believe it.
We're in love, I am losing the core of my cynicysm, and I am happy with it. Hell has just frozen over. I still believe it.
We'll try it, we'll make it, we'll love it, he'll love me. And I'll believe and believe until the day it's all diminished beneath me, and if it's a mistake, then I'll tell everyone- with their satisfied looks on their sad little faces- what I told him a few days ago: if this all blows over, if it all goes down, this was still the best time of my life.
"And I wanted you to know
If you reap what you would sew
I would take it blow by blow.
All I am is yours."
On with it.
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
Talked to Emily and Elorza tonight, two people that I do not get anywhere near enough of anymore. It was nice to talk with Emily, to touch-base: what's new in my life, what's new in hers, all the trials and errors and all the victroies and celebrations. So much has changed, but so much stays the same. And life is good.
Me: oh god, it fucking messes with me to want him as much as I do.
Emily: why?
Me: not just sexually
Me: just, in general. Because I never realized how bad it can be to be truly, deeply cynical until I heard that voice in my head derriding every beautiful belief I try to have about him and I and forever
Emily: ha
Me: All I can think of is the same shit all my bullshit Ex's would remind me of if they had the chance.
Me: Not that I really think they're bullshit...at all, really, just the bullshit sides of them
Me: oh, and I'm not referring to you at all, sorry
Me: :-P
Me: I mean the testicled ones.
Emily: ha, yeah, no testicles here, thankfully
Me: them and everybody else, I guess. All the people who think the same stuff about being young and trying to make it that I used to think.
Me: I want kids now, that's the latest indignity.
Emily: wow
Emily: wow
Emily: that's crazy
Emily: where'd that come from????
Me: Being so in love with someone that I'm dying to see what some combination of him and I would turn out like, that's where.
Me: Looking into his eyes and seeing my unborn children, like that fucking song.
Me: except he's not a woman...
Emily: oh man... you're getting cheesey
Emily: whoa
Emily: ha
Emily: :-)
Me: I am, and I hate it. But, in the end, that's the shit that ends up being true.
Emily: is it?
Me: So far.
Emily: good
Emily: that's much happier stuff
Me: yeah, but I still can't get rid of the rest. And I still can't get over the thought that one day, I won't be enough for him all by myself.
Me: Or that he won't be enough for me...though, to a lesser extent.
Emily: :-\
Me: And, I don't know, I don't really like the new me, I'm not comfortable with it...I love him, I love the fact that he's forcing me to change, but- god almighty!- who am I and what happened to Linda H.?
Me: I hate having to admit that all those other people who thought their clichéd thoughts about love and life and motherhood and how I'd be when I grew up were right. I hate giving them the satisfaction
Emily: haha
Emily: that doesnt' surprise me
Me: :-) I wouldn't suppose it would.
And then, there was my conversation with Elorza. This was unbelievably wonderful. We talked about so much, as opposed to our normal delapitated conversation- his writing, I convinced him to let me edit some of it, and I hope so much I'll be able to help him with it, show him the potential of what he can do and get him excited about some facet of his life again, because he can do so much, and I love it so much when he's trying and living and not getting frustrated by everything the way he sometime is. We talked about seeing each other, exchanging massages- such a happy thought- and about...whether Zack had read some story about a cat or something, and about Willie Damon's profile. And I told him I loved him over and over again, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel, at all, the need or the desire for him to tell me back, I just relished in saying the words to him, letting him know how lucky I am to know him, and it felt fuzzy and amazing when I said it. There's only so many nights like this one to be had, and we can't always connect this way, but while I'm on this high, let me shout it from my own personal rooftop, right here, that he is spectacular, that he is in my thoughts, and that I love him.
Tonight, tomorrow, always. You are the greatest, Darling.
On with it!
Me: oh god, it fucking messes with me to want him as much as I do.
Emily: why?
Me: not just sexually
Me: just, in general. Because I never realized how bad it can be to be truly, deeply cynical until I heard that voice in my head derriding every beautiful belief I try to have about him and I and forever
Emily: ha
Me: All I can think of is the same shit all my bullshit Ex's would remind me of if they had the chance.
Me: Not that I really think they're bullshit...at all, really, just the bullshit sides of them
Me: oh, and I'm not referring to you at all, sorry
Me: :-P
Me: I mean the testicled ones.
Emily: ha, yeah, no testicles here, thankfully
Me: them and everybody else, I guess. All the people who think the same stuff about being young and trying to make it that I used to think.
Me: I want kids now, that's the latest indignity.
Emily: wow
Emily: wow
Emily: that's crazy
Emily: where'd that come from????
Me: Being so in love with someone that I'm dying to see what some combination of him and I would turn out like, that's where.
Me: Looking into his eyes and seeing my unborn children, like that fucking song.
Me: except he's not a woman...
Emily: oh man... you're getting cheesey
Emily: whoa
Emily: ha
Emily: :-)
Me: I am, and I hate it. But, in the end, that's the shit that ends up being true.
Emily: is it?
Me: So far.
Emily: good
Emily: that's much happier stuff
Me: yeah, but I still can't get rid of the rest. And I still can't get over the thought that one day, I won't be enough for him all by myself.
Me: Or that he won't be enough for me...though, to a lesser extent.
Emily: :-\
Me: And, I don't know, I don't really like the new me, I'm not comfortable with it...I love him, I love the fact that he's forcing me to change, but- god almighty!- who am I and what happened to Linda H.?
Me: I hate having to admit that all those other people who thought their clichéd thoughts about love and life and motherhood and how I'd be when I grew up were right. I hate giving them the satisfaction
Emily: haha
Emily: that doesnt' surprise me
Me: :-) I wouldn't suppose it would.
And then, there was my conversation with Elorza. This was unbelievably wonderful. We talked about so much, as opposed to our normal delapitated conversation- his writing, I convinced him to let me edit some of it, and I hope so much I'll be able to help him with it, show him the potential of what he can do and get him excited about some facet of his life again, because he can do so much, and I love it so much when he's trying and living and not getting frustrated by everything the way he sometime is. We talked about seeing each other, exchanging massages- such a happy thought- and about...whether Zack had read some story about a cat or something, and about Willie Damon's profile. And I told him I loved him over and over again, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel, at all, the need or the desire for him to tell me back, I just relished in saying the words to him, letting him know how lucky I am to know him, and it felt fuzzy and amazing when I said it. There's only so many nights like this one to be had, and we can't always connect this way, but while I'm on this high, let me shout it from my own personal rooftop, right here, that he is spectacular, that he is in my thoughts, and that I love him.
Tonight, tomorrow, always. You are the greatest, Darling.
On with it!
Monday, March 10, 2003
Saturday, March 08, 2003
It's 4:13 and I have just finished a post menstrual-cycle-induced mental breakdown regarding my inability to drive, and I am wishing, as the 10 McDonald's chicken nuggets settle heavily into my system, I am wishing very strongly to be back in last night, to be back, naked and handcuffed in Zack's bed again. It's in the moments just before he has to leave and I know I won't see him for the rest of the day, until tomorrow morning or- god forbid- tomorrow afternoon that I know why I'm marrying him, because I do love him so much more profoundly than I've ever loved anyway...I know that when I look at him and I'm suddenly shocked by the beauty of the way he's standing, the way he's looking at me, how good his hair looks short, how nice it was to pull on long, and all of the sudden he is my one-and-only all over again. If I had my wish, in those moments, he'd never be gone, but then I'd never get my little reminder of how incredible it is that I- Linda H.- am in love, and that every single day that changes me a little more, and lately it all seems to be good.
"You can doubt anything if you think about it long enough
What happens always adjusts to fit
What happened after that."
Reckoning, by Ani diFranco, is playing, and I love her slow stuff her hurt stuff her sad stuff as much as her fast her angry her vengeful stuff, more than her powerful her political her pro-active stuff, more than any of my stuff, my amateur my alien my unpublishable stuff- but at least you're reading right now- Hi. I put reckoning in an e-mail to Elorza once, a quote from it, and how I do love the way I write e-mails to people that I really love- I put so much damn attention into them, try to make them so meaningful and so often they fall on deaf, unresponsive ears, but as much as I'd like to think I'm doing it for them, I'm doing it at least equally for me.
"I don't care how fast you run
Just tell me, baby, when you're done
With your little marathon
You still got cab fare home.
'Cause the finish line's a shifty thing
And what is life but reckoning?
You are still the song I sing
To myself when I'm alone."
That part was Elorza the day I wrote him the e-mail, and the next day it was Jeremey- who had cab fare home, who I can talk to now, who I love so goddamned much, and who I am not just "accomplishing"- he is not someone I just can't stand to be rejected by, maybe that's part of it, but you'd all know differently if you saw how happy he makes me, when he does.
Fucking McDonald's. My doctor's visit the other day- for a physical- was hazardous to my mental health, what with making me stand on that auction block of a scale. Bleeding now, I can assure myself that I am just bloated, that must be where the ten merry-little-surprise pounds came from, but the fact remains- I hate my body, most of the time, when I'm not looking at myself in the mirror the way I was last night, with Zack next to me- do you know how GOOD we look together? Fucking AY we're perfect, fuck what traditional mental health institutions might have to say about that. I feel like going for a bike ride- ooo! A transportation-oriented machine I can actually operate!- and it was warm earlier, but I don't know if it will still be by the time I get out everything that's in me, all sticky and the like. My mother lost my straw and I am drinking my calorie-filled coke through a long, thin, orange straw that actually lead me somehow to the thought process, earlier, that if one always drank through a straw like that, the extra suckage required would burn off enough calories to offset the unhealthiness of the beverage. Linda H.: Fitness guru.
And Jesus, why doesn't everybody read this crap? I'm at least as interesting as the blaséd characters in "Four Blondes" and about fifty (thousand) times more than all the characters in "About Schmidt" put together- don't go see it. Under any circumstances. Zack, the miniature devil on my shoulder, keeps telling me to tell everyone to go see it so they have to suffer the way we did, and while my cynical side loves him for it, I just couldn't do that to another human being....I should suggest it to Tony. Nobody's away messages are interesting right now, and Mark is coming over in probably an hour in a half. I really should try to get some riding in.
I wonder if I can find the CD player. That would be nice. Especially if I hadn't left "More Than You Think You Are" in California- I bike rode in January in California. I do miss the weather....
"I learned how to laugh and I learned how to cry
Well, I learned how to love and learned how to lie
So you'd think I could learn how to tell you goodbye-
You don't say you need me
You don't sing me lovesongs
You don't bring me flowers
Anymore."
All hail Neil and Barbara for performing the single most depressing lost love song that I currently know. It's too good, too bad, too true to be true.
And on and on and on with it.
"You can doubt anything if you think about it long enough
What happens always adjusts to fit
What happened after that."
Reckoning, by Ani diFranco, is playing, and I love her slow stuff her hurt stuff her sad stuff as much as her fast her angry her vengeful stuff, more than her powerful her political her pro-active stuff, more than any of my stuff, my amateur my alien my unpublishable stuff- but at least you're reading right now- Hi. I put reckoning in an e-mail to Elorza once, a quote from it, and how I do love the way I write e-mails to people that I really love- I put so much damn attention into them, try to make them so meaningful and so often they fall on deaf, unresponsive ears, but as much as I'd like to think I'm doing it for them, I'm doing it at least equally for me.
"I don't care how fast you run
Just tell me, baby, when you're done
With your little marathon
You still got cab fare home.
'Cause the finish line's a shifty thing
And what is life but reckoning?
You are still the song I sing
To myself when I'm alone."
That part was Elorza the day I wrote him the e-mail, and the next day it was Jeremey- who had cab fare home, who I can talk to now, who I love so goddamned much, and who I am not just "accomplishing"- he is not someone I just can't stand to be rejected by, maybe that's part of it, but you'd all know differently if you saw how happy he makes me, when he does.
Fucking McDonald's. My doctor's visit the other day- for a physical- was hazardous to my mental health, what with making me stand on that auction block of a scale. Bleeding now, I can assure myself that I am just bloated, that must be where the ten merry-little-surprise pounds came from, but the fact remains- I hate my body, most of the time, when I'm not looking at myself in the mirror the way I was last night, with Zack next to me- do you know how GOOD we look together? Fucking AY we're perfect, fuck what traditional mental health institutions might have to say about that. I feel like going for a bike ride- ooo! A transportation-oriented machine I can actually operate!- and it was warm earlier, but I don't know if it will still be by the time I get out everything that's in me, all sticky and the like. My mother lost my straw and I am drinking my calorie-filled coke through a long, thin, orange straw that actually lead me somehow to the thought process, earlier, that if one always drank through a straw like that, the extra suckage required would burn off enough calories to offset the unhealthiness of the beverage. Linda H.: Fitness guru.
And Jesus, why doesn't everybody read this crap? I'm at least as interesting as the blaséd characters in "Four Blondes" and about fifty (thousand) times more than all the characters in "About Schmidt" put together- don't go see it. Under any circumstances. Zack, the miniature devil on my shoulder, keeps telling me to tell everyone to go see it so they have to suffer the way we did, and while my cynical side loves him for it, I just couldn't do that to another human being....I should suggest it to Tony. Nobody's away messages are interesting right now, and Mark is coming over in probably an hour in a half. I really should try to get some riding in.
I wonder if I can find the CD player. That would be nice. Especially if I hadn't left "More Than You Think You Are" in California- I bike rode in January in California. I do miss the weather....
"I learned how to laugh and I learned how to cry
Well, I learned how to love and learned how to lie
So you'd think I could learn how to tell you goodbye-
You don't say you need me
You don't sing me lovesongs
You don't bring me flowers
Anymore."
All hail Neil and Barbara for performing the single most depressing lost love song that I currently know. It's too good, too bad, too true to be true.
And on and on and on with it.
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