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| Before I forget: you can see Holly presenting acts at this festival
in
Edinburgh. Right now. Live. But only if you have Windows. I
don't.
I can see her in the other room, on a machine with no sound card. I cried
when I saw her for the first time. My sister is so cool. I don't know if I'm going to write one journal entry this week without bitching about the morning. Probably not. This is the purest evil, I tell you. This is too damn early. I keep thinking about when I substitute taught in Franklin and had to be at school around 7:20am, but that was a) an hour later than this shift and b) in Indiana, so technically it was three hours later there. Things are deteriorating. No, not just for me. Poor Pamie lost her dear friend and cat, Lillith. Today I get an email from Shmuel who was in a terrible car accident where he and most of his family were injured. He lost his grandfather in the crash as well, a shock which can not be easy to deal with while healing. My heart goes out to you, Shmuel, and, while I don't pray per se, I am sending healing and loving thoughts your way. I want to say more for him, but I keep crying. My heart is so soft this early in the morning. To contrast sadness I found myself outraged at what recently happened to Mary Anne: a (journal reader?) person sent a letter to the University where she's going to be teaching telling them she's got pornographic web sites (more or less). It's one of those things where it reminds me of how the rest of the country views things that are so accepted here. Being from the midwest, I remember that attitude: that it's ok for this person to search out and read Mary Anne's sites, but they don't want to hear about her having any sort of influence over the children (which I agree, is especially absurd considering they're all going to be at least 18). Oh, the glory of the double standards in the Bible Belt! I suppose Ms. "Concerned" wants to hear that Mary Anne is sitting in a room (preferably with no windows) writing erotica for her internet readers and does not interact with the rest of the world. Oooh, it really pisses me off, this attitude; you'd think Mary Anne was planning to teach "Porn 101" instead of a required class with a fixed syllabus! I had a lovely evening last night with Byron. His house is spacious and neat (well, his roommate's house, I suppose), which was such a nice feng shui space to be in after my hectic day. I can't get that at home. We had a great, fabulous, soul-searching conversation. And we wondered why we haven't done that more often. Maybe we can hear things from each other that others can not (no longer) tell us. Maybe it's the perspective we have on each other's life. Regardless. He gave me food for thought about my life, about what I want to do and how it's maybe not worth it to want to be accepted if people aren't accepting you. I listened to his relationship stories and gently questioned inconsistencies and where they were coming from. Even coming from each other (we were both very gentle and kind to one another, something I think we both appreciated very much), these are not easy things to come to terms with. I don't know what either one of us is going to do about any of it, but I'm sure we'll hang out more often. Well, I hope so. It just occured to me that we talked very little about writing. Oh well, next time. I *did* write after a big crying jag yesterday after work. I decided, ok, so you're having paranoid fantasies, let's write them down. It was nothing complete, more like a bunch of little vingettes that sorta piggy-backed on one another - parts of stories. Still, it was nice to write about my life but have it come out as fiction. No wonder I've been going crazy, I've been keeping these thoughts inside. They're caustic, and make great sarcastic (sometimes witty) writing, but they burn you up when left inside. | ||
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