Dear Diary . . . day by day

Monday, August 7th - Vali-yum, yum, yum
A friend of mine took pity on me and my cramps and gave me a few valium on Saturday. I didn't take them until right before bed on Saturday, and I only took half of one. All day Sunday I was drowsy, wanting to nap, but I was also Melllll-ooooowwww. Seriously calm about everything. David and I had a conversation, and it ended with him saying, "Good, I managed to say all that without hurting your feelings or pissing you off." and I had to think for a minute what I missed. David's been pretty raw with me lately, it's true - saying things to me without filtering them through kindness or tact (sometimes he's better than others, but recently he's slammed me fairly hard to my face). I don't know that what he said yesterday was all that harshly said, but then again, he was trying and I was drugged, so it's not a fair test.
I spent a fair amount of time going through my files, trying to get stuff organized. I found some letters from my dad, and I cried when I saw his handwriting. I don't spend much time at all missing my dad, but suddenly I realized I'd never get another card or letter or phone call from him again. There were some things that Dad knew about and was good to talk to - and there's stuff like 401K and money market stuff which I'm finally learning about and would like to have been able to get Dad's take on . . . I should stop talking about this before I cry again. Weird, that I'm so sad about this . . .
I also found a copy of an email I sent to Mary Anne back in April of 1998. Whoo! I'd forgotten how different things were back then, what we were all doing (briefly: she and I were both dating David, and at that point, both working very hard to make it work). Again, I cried, mainly because of the language I was using; she and I were obviously much closer than we are now, and David and I were all caught up in NRE, and there was so much . . . promise . . . there. Sigh. The letter was warm and fuzzy, even when it was puzzling over the tricky bits. I cried because of the coldness of my life right now in comparison - even with David, who is one of my best friends. I don't want to get all fatalistic about this, as I do have hope that he and I (at least) will be able to have something resembling that affection for one another again (even if we never "date" again), but it makes me keenly aware that something went very, very wrong with that whole situation. Sure, it was a learning experience, but at what cost? And how long do the payments last?
Hmmm, this is sort of a personal entry today, folks. Hope you're all ok with this. I'm ok, I'm just kinda sad underneath it all. I am feeling very left out of things. I am feeling like something that happened two years ago is still affecting me, is still branding me a certain way, and I'm trying not to wallow. My father died at the end of 1998. That was a hard year for me - how long does it linger?
Exercise log:
Did shoulders with David's free weights on Saturday; gardened on Sunday.
Writing log:
Sat down and wrote about 1500 words of a new - story? scene? It's brilliant but I don't know that it'll ever become a finished product ;-) I need to revise Cat Enchanter, but I'm in a slump.
I'm currently reading:
Welcome, Chaos by Kate Wilhelm, which I'm enjoying quite a lot.
oh so slowly:
Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand by Samuel R. Delany

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