| I just spent an hour futzing with this web page. If you hate or love anything let me know. Check out my new journal index. Ooooh, a new index. Ain't I good to you? | |
| Hey, remember that cool job I told you about at Xinet? Well, I got it! Yup, I had the second interview this afternoon at 2pm. It lasted about a half an hour or so, and they called me before 3! What a relief! My temp job looked like it was going to end sooner than I expected, and I was getting tired of looking for jobs. It seems I've picked a good space to settle down in, too. Not one, but twopeople I know work there (Ria and Ti-Fred), and both swear that it's the best job they've ever had. It's a receptionist position, but I'm also going to have other, office manager type duties, which will keep me busy. There's also a chance of eventually moving on up . . . maybe get that Tech Writing training I've been considering. At any rate, it's already cool and it's got even more potential. | | |
| In other news*, my new housemate, Aron, moved in tonight. I think he'll be fine. He makes me laugh, a lot, which is a good quality to have in someone who's sharing your common spaces. | *So much news! I got kind of disheartened after losing my Jan. 24th journal entry . . . it was one of mom's favorites. Sorry for the lag in entries. |
| I had a crying jag earlier this afternoon. I think it was the relief over the job that did it; I've felt like I've been holding a lot in lately . . . y'know, holding my breath, trying really hard not to do anything wrong, and hoping everything will work out. I've been doing that with my job, my boyfriend and my housemate situation, and all three are going well right now. And let me tell you: It's exhausting. | |
| Sweet dreams, dearies.
|
| Good morning, sunshine. | |
| You know, I walk around all day at
work, composing journals for this page in my head. But, when I get home,
I'm too busy or my system is too slow and I don't end up writing them down
for you. In a way, it's a good thing, because I'm sure you wouldn't wade
through novella-length journal entries. But there's always something I
wish I had more time to talk about here. Or the liberty to. | | |
| I've been reading a lot of online journals. Ok. Not a lot. A
few others. I don't know if this is a good idea or not. I mean, on one
hand, I'm trying to spiff up my page now, new tables etc. But I'm also
trying to go with a theme every journal entry. Maybe even add
titles to them, who knows?
| |
| So, influence can be good.* But it
makes me insecure in a couple of ways. 1. I started this journal more or
less so my mother could check it and find out how I was doing. Brian and
Kellie, too, since they both had web access at startup. It was like a
general letter to people I knew. But that means I can't say just anything
up here. There's stuff I'd tell Kellie that I wouldn't tell mom, so that
gets cut. Then I read other journals, journals where you have to get a
secret URL to visit them, so the author can make sure they don't know you
personally. And I get jealous, because if no one I knew was reading this,
I could really dish. (And, boy, would the hits go up then)! Which brings
me to 2. I worry that either other journalers (peers, if you will) either
don't read this page, or have read it once and found it wanting and have
never come back. And then I don't know which bothers me worse...that I'm losing readers or that I even care what everyone thinks.
| *Although I definitely don't want this to happen. Sunday, I had written a long rant on jealousy, with links to Mary Anne's page and everything. It was probably ok, but I'm a wimp and would most likely feel I had to get her ok before I posted it. Perhaps I should start an "evil twin" page where I can really dish . . . and ask those I know not to read it. Yeah. I know. I would read it too. |
| Because I think mom was just happy with this journal the way it was. Oh, sure, she'll be thrilled if I really do
manage to have daily journal entries. She might even like the themed
entries. But I'm no longer talking just to her. I want strangers to read this journal. And like it.
| |
| Later: I can never tell you everything. There are things I want to talk about and never do; sometimes I even think I've written about them, but when I check, the entries aren't there. It's like those dreams that are so vivid that you think they've happened, and it's not until you see your roommate and she actually talks to you that you realize you never lost it and dumped spaghetti sauce all over her bed. Either that or she hasn't found it yet.
| |
| David and I went shopping on Sunday. We were buying me a desk . . . ok, David was buying me a computer desk, because he hadn't gotten me a birthday present yet, and it was, "an easy out". While we were at Target*, I finally convinced him to pick up some more T-shirts and socks. David's style is very basic: jeans, t-shirt and flannel/cardigan. And his T-shirts are never printed with anything (he hates that). So we didn't even have to look through racks of clothing - Hanes Pocket T's come in packages. He let me pick out the colors. And, at the risk of annoying him by sounding too "couplely", I really got a kick out of helping him do this. I love shopping, it's something I'm good at. I felt very close to him, picking out his essentials like that. I felt very girlfriendy even reminding him that most of his wardrobe was getting holes in it. Oh, hell, I'll admit it: I was just thrilled to get him to do something that needed to be done. He's always so practical; it was nice to be the responsible one for a change. | *What, do you think we're made of money here? Bring on the pressboard!
|
| We went hottubbing Saturday night. Jodi and Carol had rented out Kiva for Jodi's birthday, so it was just people we knew. Well, people Carol and Jodi knew. The drive from San Jose to Santa Cruz was terrifying; it was raining alley cats and rabid wolves, and we were trying to negotiate the Santa Cruz mountains . . . ugh. So, we were nice and tense and ready to plunge our nekkid bodies into the steaming water.
| |
| I make it sound like something exciting happened next, don't I?
| |
| Have you ever hottubbed in the pouring rain? It was a freezing run from the house to the tubs*, but the immediate warmth as we sank into the bubbling water was amazing. It was as if we were in a bad sitcom, each nude body shivering and chattering until the moment the heat sank in and "AAHHhhhhhhhhh". Ok, I don't know any sitcoms like that either. Anyway, the tubs always get too hot after awhile, but that night, with the big, cold drops of rain dropping on us constantly, we found we could sit for longer before we had to prop ourselves half-out of the water to cool off.
| *Although David and I brought our flip-flops, so at least we weren't walking barefooted on those cold rocks. |
| The rain eased up after awhile. People came and went between the different tubs and the sauna, and at one point, I realized I was the only woman in a tub full of 7 men -- and I made the mistake of pointing this out (too proudly). Whoo boy, it may have just been me, but it suddenly got very quiet (after the initial burst of hey-hey kind of laughter). David left at that point, and Ian was grinning at me, and I was trying to figure out how to leave the tub gracefully without anyone noticing that I was fleeing. I wanted to back out, too. Anyhow, I took a deep breath and went out onto the grass, away from the tubs, where I let the cool sensation of the rain fall against my cooling body. And I danced.
| |
| Well, I told David earlier that there would be a journal entry tonight, and, god damn it, there's gonna be a journal entry tonight. | |
| I just finished watching the Simpsons with Aron, our new roommate. Sharon doesn't like animation, so this was the first time since Kellie that I've sat down with my roomie and giggled over the Simpsons. And it was one I hadn't seen, too: Halloween Special VIII. Before the Simpsons, the three of us hung out in the dining room*, chatting and talking about our day, our friends, etc. The house is so different - so nice and mellow! Earlier tonight, before anyone was home, I was bummed because I wanted to hang out! It's nice to have a Home again. | *(don't ask me why, we just ended up there) | |
| I got a rejection letter from Seventeen magazine today. There was the most encouraging handwritten note on it*. Sharon thinks he means it's too racy for Seventeen...I dunno, I'd rather think it was also too deep, too complex...Now I have to find another market for it. I was going to sit down tonight and figure it out, write a draft of the letter to print out at work tomorrow, etc., but I got caught up chatting. I'm trying to decide if I should go for something really big, like The New Yorker or Harpers, or if I should go for something like The Iowa Review. I think it's a solid story, but it's set in high school, so I really wonder about sending it to a "sophisticated rag" like The New Yorker. I also wonder if fiction writing is like theatre, where you don't audition on Broadway until you're ready -- otherwise, you get a bad reputation as a kid who's trying to go too far too fast. Somehow I keep thinking it's like that, and if I get rejected once, everything with my name on it will go into the circular file. Paranoia, paranoia...
| *"Dear Heather Shaw - Thanks for 'Feeding Time'. It's fine stuff but I think it covered too much ground in too little time for our young readers. Good luck placing it elsewhere. Best - Ben Schrank"
|
| I had a lovely time last night with David. We had a good talk tonight as well. I wish I could freeze time or whatever it would take to make things always so easy, so wonderful. Life's a roller coaster, though, huh? Sometimes, I swear I wake up nauseous from the ride. | |
| What else? Oh! I found Shmuel's journal finally. Not even a month old, and he's putting up entries every day! I was fascinated, reading about him. He and I have some things in common, such as wanting very badly to be a writer, but in other ways we seem very different. I'm very into love and sex, and there was very little of that on his page (that I could find). And he's all into primary colors and detests earth tones, which is just about my polar opposite there. Not that these are huge things (some might say I picked the most superficial details and some might be right), but they really caught my attention. What's wrong with green, I ask you? Green is the color of growing things.
| Hi Shmuel! Thanks for listing my site on your page. |
| I should probably do a "pages I read" section, huh? Oh, I mention them here, but there should be a nice, concise little list you can refer to. But then again, there's a lot about this page that needs revamping, and on a 14.4 modem*, I don't like to upload too much at once. | *Hell, if it were faster, I'd probably be much better at updating this journal everyday.
|
| So much for themed entries! I've said just about all I can think of, and it's past my bedtime. G'night, doves.
| |
| Today I'm going to do something I sorta told myself I'd never do. I'm going to comment directly on someone else's journal entry. The ever popular Columbine no less. I hope I'm not taking on too much. | |
| Columbine's entry is on his fingernails...the fact that he painted them blue and wants no one to notice. He wants to be "weird" just for himself. | | |
| Columbine should move to the Bay Area.
| |
| I moved out here from Franklin, Indiana, where I had gone to college. I moved because, although I knew that small town pretty well and made pretty good tips off my regular customers at the local pizza joint, I was too weird there. I didn't fit in, stood out like a brightly painted sore thumbnail. Now, I'm female by birth, so my oddly painted fingernails only carried the stigma that "acid green, peacock blue and violet are not natural nail colors".* In fact, at the place I worked, I looked almost completely normal next to the punk rock teenagers with facial piercings that would occasionally gather hysterical comments such as: "What is that thing in his nose? What am I supposed to tell my children!? It's not Halloween! You've got FREAKS making my pizza! That's DISGUSTING!!!" | *And red is? I'll never understand that. |
| But there were incidents. One time, I was walking to class, wearing a multi-colored tank top, green shorts, and one of those multi-colored "hippie" hats (the picture on my Photo Gallery page has me wearing it, if you're curious). A pick-up truck (ubiquitous in Indiana) full of good ol' boys (also ubiquitous) drove past, slowly. They leaned out, threateningly close, and screamed at me, "Jerry Garcia is DEAD, you fuckin' hippie! Jerry Garcia SUCKS!" and other such lovelies. They eventually drove off, after harassing me for a block or so, but it was scary. Rednecks get very upset when you don't look like everyone else, and will gang up and attack rather frequently if provoked too often with such visual offenses such as multi-colored clothing or facial piercings.*
| *Keep in mind that the grand dragon of the KKK lived just 20 minutes down the road. Or so I was informed. |
| But I didn't leave out of fear. Hell, Franklin, for me, was much safer than the questionable part of Oakland I live in now. I left because it was too easy to stick out. It was a breeze to be different, to get attention, to be noticed. I won poetry slams on a regular basis. I was well-known among my friends as someone who would frankly discuss the more intimate aspects of sex.* | *I would occasionally clear a room because a story I told was "too raunchy". It was a running gag with Kellie and Brian.
|
| What good is that, I ask you? Where's the challenge of being different in the conservative Midwest? My writing might have improved, living there. But, honestly, I had no influence, no real encouragement to write. Out here, there's tons of writers. There's also tonsof freaks. If I wear my cape in Berkeley, the comments (if any) are, "Great cape!". No one notices, really. And if I write a good story, I'm gonna have to revise the hell out of it before someone gushes all over it the way they might have* in Indiana. And no one blinks an eye when I talk about sex. It came up in my last interview that I wrote erotica; they didn't mind...in fact, the HR director already knew because she'd been to this page.
| *I only wrote one story, Golden Apples, while in Indiana. And that was for a Creative Writing course. |
| Of course, it doesn't hurt that my main group of friends came from Mary Anne. And, as jealous as I've gotten recently about her success, I have to remind myself that it was her casual comment, "I'm not sure my anthology is taking poetry. Why don't you write me an erotic story instead?" that spurred me on to write. Don't get me wrong, I've always written, and as a child I desperately wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I just needed some sparkling competition and a tougher environment to bring it out.
|
| This is not a deep journal entry. It's almost 2am (technically the 10th), and I just finished a long trivial pursuit game with Sharon, Meredith and Aron. I almost long for the days when I didn't like my housemates and would ignore social events to go to bed early. | |
| I'm sick, too. That's the kicker. | | |
| Last night, I woke up with severe stomach cramps at 5am. I dry heaved for awhile, finally drifting off to sleep around 7am. I got to work around noon, leaving at 4:45.
| |
| It's not been a good week. | |
| Tonight, instead of going belly dancing, I went shopping at K-mart. Bought myself a girdle. Why would I buy a girdle when I'm feeling nauseous? Good damn question. I had to buy a girdle tonight so I could tell whether or not I would fit in this lovely navy, straight-cut bridesmaid's dress by April 17th. See, Kellie and Brian found dresses they liked in a department store, so they just estimated each bridesmaid's size and bought her dress. Mine would have fit me when I lived with Kellie. Maybe. But now, it's a size too small.* | *I would fit if it had a flared skirt, but this baby is skin-tight all the way down. |
| I can zip it. I can sit, balancing on the edge of my seat, holding my breath. It's much too tight as it is; but looking at the seams, I think I can get another inch by ripping out the seam and relying on the overlock stitching to hold it. It's a lined dress, but luckily both seams are made the same way. It should work, but I'm going to have Melodi* look at it tomorrow and give me her opinion. But even if she's dubious, I'm going to rip the seams anyway. I'm desperate. | *Mel was a fashion design major.
|
| See, Kellie called the other day, wanting to know if I'm even coming to the wedding. And, if I'm coming (which I am), will I fit into the dress by April 17th? She has to order bouquets, and doesn't want to order me one if the dress won't fit. Because if it won't fit, I'm not in the wedding.
| |
| When I first got this dress, last October, I thought it would be great inspiration to lose weight. Hah. I should have known that it would only add stress to my already stressful life. But there wasn't a larger size - they looked - and by then it had already been shipped across the country, and the other two bridesmaids dresses fit, so I had no alternative.
| |
| But now, I'm getting pissed. At myself, for being too fat to be in this wedding. At my dear friends, for not thinking clearly when they were trying to cut corners. At department stores, who only carry what society considers a "normal" range of sizes. At the designers, who didn't think to give these larger sizes a little more room in the hips.
| |
| It doesn't help the other two bridesmaids look like pixies -small and dark- I'm already going to be the "tall redhead", which isn't always a bad thing. But it is when your dress bunches up over your stomach and hips because it won't quite fit where it's supposed to around your middle.
| |
| But you know what? Screw it. I'm wearing the damn dress anyway. I love these two people more than most people in this world, and the only other wedding which would mean more to me right now would be my sister's* I'm not going to miss it just because I'm going to look like a navy sausage. Hell, it's the week before my period this week (aren't you glad I told you that?) and I'm bloated. The 17th is my "thin" time of the month. I can let the dress out. I can eat less. I can exercise.
| *No, she's not getting married, although she did just shock the hell out of me and mom by quitting both her jobs and taking off on vacation in Florida until March! |
| I feel so adult, in a way. I'm putting vanity aside for...for... Ok. I want to say love. But, with how I feel right now, I'd say I'm putting vanity aside for stubbornness.
| |
| David, who says I haven't learned anything from you? | |
| David's leaving tonight. His sister, Beth, just had her second daughter last Saturday. She and her husband, Jay, named the girl Dana Pearl, after Beth's maternal grandmother (Pearl) who was also born on February 6th. I like that story; I find it touching. But what this means is that David is flying out for a week to see Beth and her new baby. | |
| And, as much as I'm gonna miss him, boy do we need this break from each other. | | |
| I've kinda hinted that I've been irrationally jealous lately. And David has just come through a major life funk. In fact, bad things are happening all around us -- Jenna lost her grandmother, a friend of David's just lost her cat, another friend lost his grandparent and his cat. And it seems everyone is in some mood or another. Why, the three journals I read, Xeney, Columbine and Mary Anne have recently or are currently undergoing major bad moods of some sort. And my sister's life was so overwhelming she just up and left for Florida on one day's notice! Anyhow, David says it's just winter ("it picks them off"), but I dunno. Perhaps some major bad karma is coming down the millennium pipe, and all this is just the flag corps.*
| *You know I'm just kidding about that last stuff, right? |
| It's not been a good week. | |
| This weekend is going to be full up. I think Saturday Karina, Mary Anne and I are going sightseeing in the City -- maybe the Japanese tea gardens and Asian Art Museum, then dinner, then we're off to MA's reading. MA has asked me to read part of a poem for two voices that she wrote last night.* So, we need to practice Friday night, I guess. I also wanted to try and see all sorts of people this weekend: Jenna, Byron, Ed, Ian... On Sunday, there's the St. Valentine's Day Massacre Party at the house. Jenna is going with me, and maybe Aron and Sharon, too. I haven't seen Jenna since October, and I think she'll have a lot of fun at the party. Friday and Monday, during the day, I suppose I'll be writing, since most everyone else will be working. That'll be nice: Prep time and Wrap up! | |
| *Heh. Of course, I jumped at the chance, jealousy be damned in the face of opportunity. Bless her for putting up with me! I've been talking to her off and on all week, telling her exactly what about her drives me nuts with envy (admitting, of course, that this is not rational at all). I secretly (well, no more, huh?) wonder if she's letting me read this with her because she knows how jealous I am that she's getting all these readings these days. When she asked me to read, she said that she knows how much I like to read in front of people. She's trying for me. Yeah, I know, isn't she sweet? Do you see my problem? | |
| What about the bridesmaid dress? Oh, well, the operation was a success. It took 20+ minutes a seam (with 8 seams, you can see what I did while I was home sick yesterday), but the dress is significantly roomier. Well, it still bunches a bit around the middle, but at least the hips fall where my hips *are*. And I can sit down AND breathe. Hell, by April 17th, I may actually be able to wear it for the reception as well as the wedding. But this style, while lovely, is not one I would ever buy for myself. Like I said, I'm the odd body size out in this wedding party --too curvy for the style Kellie chose. But, hell, aren't all bridesmaids dresses supposed to have something majorly wrong with them? At least she didn't put me in buttercream taffeta ruffles! | |
| I know this journal entry is all over the place. But at least I'm writing one, right?
| |
| So, I've been thinking about this page. I know I've been sporadic in the past about putting up regular entries. I'm trying to be better about it now, and since I've been reading other's journals more regularly, I can see the benefit in that. David suggested I try a "notify" thing, like Mary Anne has. But until I can figure out how to make the system do it on its own, that will just add one more step* (in Eudora, no less) to an already lengthy journaling process. And, honestly, now that I'm putting up "Day-by-day" entries as well as monthly and current...well, I'm talking about a half an hour time commitment, even without writing the journal. Maybe Ed or somebody can teach me how to use "pixies" like Columbine does. Maybe, if my ancient machine can handle all this!
| |
| Jasmine is at that point where she realizes that David is gone for more than just an evening. She was very glad to see me just now, when I walked in at 1am. She's mewing, sometimes insistently, but more often just quietly and forlornly, rubbing up under my legs before she searches the apartment again for David. | |
| Jasmine is, of course, David's cat. | | |
| He's had her since she was a kitten, some 10 years ago now, and there's no debating that kind of bond. Sure, she's nicer to me than she is to David -- I'm flattered when she swipes at me or bites me, but it's never as hard or as often as she bites David. And last night, she curled up on my lap (I put both legs outstretched on the coffee table, the way he does, and she curled right up), but she bit at me when I tried to pet her. Tonight, she'll probably not sleep under the bed, but on it, with me, for comfort. Who am I kidding? For warmth.* Still, it'll be nice not to sleep alone tonight.
| *David puts out an incredible amount of body heat. It's great in the winter; when we get in bed he'll either "warm up" my side by lying there, or cuddle up close to me to help me warm up the chilly sheets. |
| I miss David too. | |
| You can tell a lot about a person by the personality of their cat. I personally think cats like to emphasize your bad points, just to humiliate you in front of people who know this fact. For instance, Gryphon, my cat, can be very lovey and affectionate. He'll lie on his tummy for you, but will pull your hands away from his belly with his paws, wanting you to scritch his head instead. But, when David was visiting, he acted all jealous and put off. He will only let you pet him if he's the only cat demanding attention (no small feat in my mother's house with 8 cats). If another comes up, even if you ignore her, Gryphon will get put out and jump down. | |
| Jasmine is moody. She doesn't like change. Even though she gets all irate with the closest person in the world to her (David) and bites and swipes occasionally, boy does she feel it when he leaves. She's grateful that I'm here (she's known me over a year now), but she's making it clear that I'm not a fully sufficient replacement for fuzzy, warm David. | |
| I should go to bed. It's late, and I'm supposed to get up early to go into the city with Mary Anne and Karina. They want me to drive, which I'm considering, but I'm nervous. It doesn't help that I know that David would be very high-strung about me driving his car into the City (all those hills, you know). I also just hate driving in the East Bay and I know driving and parking is much much worse over there. Perhaps I should, though, just to say I've done it. | |
| Mary Anne and I practiced her poem for two voices, Carol Throws a Party. It's good. It's something you can't read on the page, but have to hear two people reading it. I made her practice it over and over -- we had to work at getting the simultaneous stuff down, and our rhythms are different. But when we're on, we're pretty damn hot together. I'm a little nervous about having an audience (especially with people with Big Names like Carol Queen in the audience) -- hopefully the repetitive practicing that Mary Anne whined about will pay off then.
| |
| You should come, if you're in the Bay Area. It's at the DNA lounge at 375 11th Street in San Francisco. Doors open at 7:00 and the reading starts at 7:30 sharp. It's a benefit for the San Francisco Sex Information Hotline, and there's lots of other writers featured too (like the afore-mentioned Carol Queen), and it should be a good time. | |
| Warning: In the following journal entry, I'm going to gush, gloat and do other self-gratifying things. But, hey, I'm happy. | |
| Well, the reading went fabulously. We read next to last, at Mary Anne's request, and it was a good thing. Most of the reading seemed rather violent or hard core urban, but we followed the one romantic poet of the evening. The applause after we were introduced was luke-warm (no one had heard of us -- this was a "hip" San Francisco crowd). I pulled up a bar chair to the mike (we had to share, which is not how we practiced) and we took a deep breath and began. | |
| We were hot.
| |
| The poem is about two women meeting at a party and having spontaneous sex. It's funny at parts, and it's graphic. Mary Anne had written my parts with my "voice" in mind, and I found the lines very easy to deliver. We had rehearsed it so we'd speed up at the end, our voices in unison as we moved to the climax of the piece. The applause and cheers were enthusiastic and copious. | |
| Oh, god! I love performing! We had people coming up to us left and right after the reading, telling us all sorts of good things. The first guy said that we were the best reading he'd heard in the three years that they'd been having My Sucky Valentine readings. (And the first duo, which I expected). Many people told us we were the best of the evening (and, considering that utterly charming, talented people like Carol Queen had read, too, I found that extremely flattering). We were told we were hot, inspirational etc. I was told more than once that I had a good voice and was an excellent performer. | |
| Before we had read, I was leaning over the balcony in the DNA lounge, thinking, "I'm about to read an erotic duo in front of this crowd. If they like me...if they like me, this ain't Indiana, where it's easy to rise above. These writers were picked because they're well-known, talented etc. This is a very hip, very current crowd, in one of the most amazing cities in the world. I'm going to perform here. And if they like me....well, that's really good."* Boy, was tonight good for my ego. | *Of course that's not it exactly...I was nervous and excited, do you think I was taking notes? |
| We'd started out the day (late, and that was my fault) driving into the City to go to the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate park. It was raining, but not too cold, and it made the garden that much more beautiful, all drizzly, drenched and cleanly beautiful. We took lots of pictures as we wandered around, enjoying the serenity of the Asian aesthetic despite the crowds. After awhile, we went to the Asian Art Museum, which was very interesting. However, we were there only 20 minutes before I realized I was terribly hungry (having only eaten a piece of cornbread and a coke for breakfast). We'd paid $7 to get in, though, so it was awhile before we got to leave. | |
| When we left, the temperature had dropped considerably. On our way out of the park, we stopped in the Botanical gardens to see the Fragrant Garden* (full of herbs and such that are really hard to smell when you're nose is cold). On our way there we passed the Prehistoric Garden (lots of ferns), and the Biblical garden (which reminded me of the book I'm reading now, Milroy the Magician by Paul Theroux, where the main character preaches eating only foods that are mentioned in the Bible). Someday, I'm going to have to make the rounds of that park the myriad of gardens there. Some sunny day. | * Karina really wanted to get that in on her visit, and said something about making David take her if we didn't get it in that day. I knew David really didn't want to go to the gardens, so I thought, what the hell...I'm cold and hungry, but it'll be pretty, right? Right?
|
| We ate at Axom (I think that's it), a groovy little Ethiopian restaurant on Haight Street. Sherman and Ingrid (a friend of Mary Anne's from college) met us there. It was empty when we got there, but it soon filled up. Not too long after we ordered Tej (Ethiopian Honey wine - much like mead), our waiter had the entire glass shelf collapse on him (near him, he was not hurt), causing a huge mess and a very loud crashing noise. I was so damn hungry at this point -- dehydrated too -- that it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and not start bitching at everyone.* Our food came well before we got either water or wine, and I ate embarrassingly fast. We had to nag the waiter for water. I downed my first glass of water, and finally (as we were ignored by our waiter, who never quite understood us) got up, picked up a water pitcher and filled all of our glasses. We asked several times for wine, explaining that we didn't need it to be served in wine glasses, but it was not until the other waitress returned from the store with new stemware that we got it. And that was at the end of our meal. | *At one point, someone commented that I looked so miserable they thought I was going to cry. I made some comment to placate them and kept glaring at nothing in particular. It's best to leave me alone when I'm hungry and there's nothing to do about it. Especially if you're lucky enough to have me being polite and not whining at you. |
| Driving in the rain in the City on a Saturday night after an annoying meal, when you're running late is NOT a pleasant experience. We had Yahoo directions, but I still missed the place where we crossed Market and turned on it instead, which, if you've ever tried to cross Market Street in San Francisco, you'll know is an ANNOYING thing to have happen. It was safest just to make a box and try again, as that street has secret passages and tesseracts, I swear, and you can get stuck for days if you don't know where you're going. Anyhow, we arrived a little late (luckily it was only 7:30 when we were trying to get a parking spot near the nightclubs in SOMA), and had plenty of time to recuperate before we had to read. And that, as you know, was fabulous. | |
| I always seem to have these exciting weekends involving Mary Anne whenever David leaves town. It's exhausting, but fun. This is also the second time I've started a new job while David was away. What do you suppose all this means? | |
| My first day at Xinet went well. It's a little tedious, as all jobs are at first, what with learning the ropes and being watched over all day long. I felt like I had to be "on" almost all day, which isn't how it'll feel once I'm working on my own. The company, the folk, it's all just so cool, though. I really fit in with this company (so far). There's even a dance company right downstairs that teaches flamenco, jazz, tap, swing, salsa, yoga... and more! Tomorrow I'm staying after work to either take a beginning jazz class (Babs, the owner, assured me it was just for placement purposes and a good workout) or to try flamenco. I want to learn flamenco, but I'm not sure it's a good idea with my knees and ankles. | |
| David, honey, I'm going to post the following without your permission. If you were here, I'd send it to you first, but since you're away... Well, call me if you hate it. You have my new # at work. | |
| I came home after work and David called me. We had a pretty good talk - two hours - and he even admitted he misses me! David's been fairly blue lately, and it's nice to know that a little space has helped. Of course, I had to go and ruin it by bringing up relationship issues that have been bothering me... My problem is that I'm trying to be very, very patient and very, very good and I just can't seem to keep it in long enough. I want security. Part of me wants to give an ultimatum, like in the end of "How Stella Got her Groove Back", but, see, David ain't the dramatic, emotional save type. And that's not even the problem. The problem is, if you want to instigate change by walking away, you have to be prepared to keep walking. And that, of course, is NOT what I want. | |
| I love him, see. And I think we can make this work.*
| *And it'll be very much worth it when it does. Oh, we can be so good together! |
| Still, I think we ended up on a good note. I really don't feel like the talk *ruined* anything, it just makes me nervous. Like I might step over the line at any minute, the straw that broke the camel's back, etc. But, then again, *everything* feels like that these days (I'm very paranoid). No, dammit, we were ok...and, hell, it was important for me to get that off my chest. If I had waited until he got back, it would have been hanging over me, pushing to get out and not letting me be excited at seeing him again. Fuck, I need to just be more secure in doing what *I* want to do. Yeah! It felt GOOD to talk, and it went ok. Being honest isn't going to hurt anything, and if it does, well, fuck it. You go girl!* | *I miss Melodi. We weren't terribly close, but she always gave me a boost. Made me feel strong. |
| I'm feeling the lack of close girlfriends in my life. Yesterday, I called Kellie, but she wasn't home yet. My only close female friend in California is Mary Anne, who, in this situation, isn't exactly what you'd call an objective observer. But, to her credit, she and I had a good talk last night anyway. Still, I wish there was somebody else who was a local phone call away. In Indiana, I had my sister, Holly, who always yells at me and gives me very harsh love/advice. On the other end of the spectrum is Shel, quintessential girl-pal who's ALWAYS on my side, even when I'm trying to tell her, "I'm so stupid, I totally fucked this up". (Shel's very good for the ego). And then, there's Kellie, my level-headed old roomie, who comes at my problems with compassion and her psych degree. Kellie always had me thinking the right way about my problems. They were a magnificent trio. And you know what? I miss them more than I miss David right now. And that's saying a lot. | |
|
| I woke up in a bad mood this morning. I hate it when that happens - it feels like someone out there just isn't giving you a chance to be happy. My sister would love to analyze that. She'd tell me I was REacting instead of ACTing. Yeah, fuck, whatever. When I walked into the bathroom this morning, I managed to knock the toilet seat off entirely. The toilet seat in David's apartment has been detached for I don't know how many months now (and it was loose for I don't know how many before that). If it was something *I* could fix for him, I think I would have, but I can't. Guys don't have to sit down as often, of course, so I'm the one person in the world that this annoys the most. And, this grey morning, it greeted me with a VERY loud crash, boom, clatter. No, I was not sitting when it fell, though that has happened (not to this degree). | |
| I'm a little testy these days.
| |
| I wrote you all a nice long entry yesterday on some vague details of my relationship with David, but, of course, I'm too chicken to post it without his ok. He's getting his hair cut tonight and will be hanging out with Masha in NYC until late, so I won't be able get his ok until much later. It's terribly ironic, since part of the entry talks about how I should just *DO* what I want to do and not keep worrying about everyone else's reaction. But I just don't want to piss anyone off. | |
| Did I mention I forgot to get more cokes from home, so this is all pre-caffienated? Hell, I don't think I can EAT without drinking a coke first. What a nasty habit I've gotten into. | |
| Ok, well, I'm just going to go now. Sorry, guys, I'll get up the back entries soon, but for now, I'm choosing no action at all. | |
|
| I am writing this while trying to ignore that Voyager/Borg movie that they're showing on UPN tonight. Oh, I'll just watch the first bit... | |
| I went to my jazz class earlier. I was not surprised to see my ankles shake as I tried to plie and releve (bend at the knees, raise up on my toes). There were only two of us in the class, which was nice, I suppose. However, when the teacher told me to take off my jazz shoes ("so we can work our feet better"), I managed to scrape off a scab (unbeknownst to me). I was stretching joyfully when I did a "flat back" (back parallel to the floor while standing) and noticed I was dripping bright red blood all over the nice wood floor. Yikes! I wanted to be mortified, I really did, but I'm no longer 11. I ran out to the receptionist, got a band-aid and paper towels, and was back in the class in a few minutes. Embarrassed, yes, but ok.
| |
| My problem is that there are just too many classes to choose from! I watched some of the flamenco classes. I don't know if I want to try flamenco because I like it or because Holly is all into it. There's Afro-Cuban dancing, which sounds like a whole lot of fun, what with drummers and all. And, while I enjoyed the jazz class, if she thinks I'm going to be satisfied taking a beginning class with all these other temptations to spend my money on, well... my momma spent far too much money on me as a child to have me end up in a BEGINNER class. David thinks I should be careful and build up my muscles in this class first, but, then again, David isn't paying for these dance classes, now, is he? Next week, I'll try either Afro-Cuban or Flamenco. | |
| So, that entry I was waffling about is up in its entirety. You can click on "Previous" at the end of this entry to go back day by day, or you can load all of February and scroll down. I'm working on the day by day index...ok, well, I intend to work on it. Soon. | |
| David had no problem with it, of course. I think I was just not sure if I wanted to get so personal in my web journal, and waiting for an ok means it never went up on my "current" page. I know, I'm chicken shit. Well, I've always been an odd mix of the dramatic and the self-conscious. So, um, ta-da! | |
| Of course, he's probably mortified that I wrote that so big. Oh, well. I can't wait to see the boy. (And I use boy as a term of affection, with full, full knowledge that he is, in fact, a man). Jasmine knows what I mean. Tonight, exactly week after he left, she's been pacing the apartment and meowing, loudly, looking all over for him. She's pissed, because she knows that these trips *never* last longer than a week. She's normally a very quiet cat, but tonight she's startled me several times by yeowling from the music room. | |
| I spent my entire evening tonight running errands and cooking. I wanted David to have something to eat when he gets in tomorrow night.* He's going to be exhausted (cross-country flight) and hungry. And, he's been sick, which worries me. Oh, I'm sure he'll be ok, but I know how miserable it is to be in the dry, closed air of an airplane when you've got the flu. Poor baby. And first thing when he gets off the plane he's going to see is me, smiling broadly and showing too much cleavage. Yes, I'm terrible. But maybe it'll cheer him up a bit.
| *I went overboard, of course. I made Ratatouille and I bought bread, and fruit (I'm being vague so he'll be surprised). There's chocolate and a choice of frozen deserts. And even more (something of a tradition I'm trying to keep - I'll tell you tomorrow). There's usually never this much ready-to-eat food in his house. |
|
Mary Anne's journal both amuses and irks me. She's lamenting that poor Kevin has to pick her up at 10am at the airport. Yeah, well, poor David stupidly volunteered to take her to the airport without finding out the time first, and will be getting out of bed at 5 AM the morning after he gets in. AND he has the flu. I'm a very light sleeper, too, so that means I'm going to be fighting to stay asleep Saturday morning (and I so wanted to sleep in with my honey!). Damn. And I'm used to getting up at 7 now, which means that 5 might just be close enough to wake me up entirely. I can get so grumpy...* | *No, David, that was not a threat, just me worrying. I fully intend to try and stay asleep. |
| Of course, when he told me about it, well, it didn't go over well. I was expecting to have him all to myself for a bit after he got back, and I'm still not dealing well with anything that involves Mary Anne. So, I started to over-react, then I got upset that here I was, blowing things out of proportion AGAIN, and I got mad at myself for acting like that, thus making me more and more upset.... * Yes. I'm ok now. David said he fully intends to go back to sleep afterwards (if I'm lucky, I'll never know he went), so I'll get to sleep in with him. Still, I just think that one of Mary Anne's roommates would be a better choice for an airport run, especially at that time of the morning. | *I know. You're all thinking, "Damn. Glad I'm not dating her." |
| Ok, got that off my chest. I, for one, don't think I'm telling you too much about my love life. In fact, I'll bet I'd get more hits if I wrote the scintillous bits up here. Well. Too bad. My mom still reads this, guys.
|
| Well, I've spent most of my weekend sleeping. David came home Friday night with a cold (as promised), and I think my body has spent the entire weekend's energies on not catching it. Good body. | |
| Of course, it may just be that I'm exhausted from my first week of work (not once this week did I get to bed early enough to get my full 8 hours). David got up entirely too early on Saturday morning (5am, to take Mary Anne to the airport), and only slept an hour or so more when he got back. He got up early (8am) again this morning, only to crash on me once I finally rolled out of bed around 11am. Sigh. Actually, talking about sleep like this really makes me want to go back in there and curl up next to him. Yawn!
| |
|
Of course, I could get my butt in gear and go see Shakespeare in Love, which I've been meaning to see for what seems like months now. But it's a beautiful day, which makes me reluctant to go sit in a dark movie theatre. I'd rather go back to bed, and sleeping the in little dust motes that make the air so visible and sleepy on sunny afternoons. It has the opposite effect of catnip on cats.* | *Am I making no sense? I feel like I'm not making any sense here. |
| Ok, so, to sum up, David's back. I'm happy. Things seems really good between us. I fell asleep on the futon couch several times yesterday. When I woke up after dinner, I won two out of three games of Rummy (really stomping him both times). I have to move a ton of clothes and stuff back to my house after the Simpsons tonight. | |
| That's it for now. Sorry guys, but I think I'm going back to bed for now. | |
|
Later (10:42pm): The move home seemed enormous, but it proved to be manageable. Jasmine seemed freaked, but I couldn't tell if it was because she'd miss me or because she was worried that it was David packing up to leave again. I'll believe the former. | |
| Did I mention that David got his hair cut? His friend, Masha, has been cutting his hair for two years now, and I must say, I trust her taste. This time, she took David's shaggy shoulder length hair (which, yes, I was fond of) and cut it up all the way to his cheekbones. She shaved up the back of his neck, so the curls make a cute ledge above the nape of his neck. Oh, he's so cute! It's a bit longer in the front, so wayward curls are always falling into his face. :-) | |
| David's got upstairs neighbors who just annoy the hell out of me. This morning, when David got out of bed at 8am, their three-year-old was running back and forth, thumping loudly, and sometimes bouncing on the bed, which is directly above David's bed. I sometimes rest there and makes little bets to myself as to whether or not he's going to run up to the bed and stop, or if this is a time he's going to hurl his pudgy little body onto the bed, making the springs groan in low tones. | |
| Why don't we complain? Because there's another sound that comes from the upstairs neighbor: child beating. Well, we have no real evidence, and we can both vouch the child is very naughty (I've been there both times the kid purposely plugged up the toilet, causing a flood and a steady stream through the ceiling and into David's bathroom). But sometimes it sounds like the punishments get out of control. The cops have even come and cuffed the father and taken him away, but he was back in a few days. And considering that there's more noise than just them (there's a family with very loud talking women and high volume R&B music across the alley and heavy metal/acid rock boy downstairs.*), it seems a shame to get the kid hit just because he's contributing to the noise pollution, even if he can run for 4 hours straight. . Then again, his entire situation makes it hard to deal with. | *Yes, that makes it nice to be home, where if it gets too noisy in the house, I can tell my roommates to shut the fuck up. |
| And on that cheery note, goodnight.
|
| Ok, that cold I was telling you about? Kicked me in the ass Monday night, leaving me bed-ridden all of Tuesday (ugh - it's nice to have sick days, but I didn't want to have to use one so soon!). Now, I woke up this morning feeling much, much better, which made me brag all morning about how I fully believe that sleep is so vitally important to healing that your body really can't get well without it. I mean, I slept all of Tuesday, and felt so well this morning I thought I was cured! Of course, 'round about 1pm I start feeling icky again (achey, snuffly etc). So, half my lunch hour I spend in the nap room at work*. I felt better, but I'm still a little ill. I hate being sick. Hate it. | *Yes! We have a nap room at work, complete with cushy futon, with matching pillows and blanket, a cool hanging chair/recliner thingie, stereo, books, mats, skylight...yes, my company is the coolest. |
| David picked me up from work today, so he can now verify how very cool Xinet is. I'm wary, though, 'cause he's in one of those moods where I wonder if he's got something he's not telling me. He's just sorta quiet, saying "nothing" when I pester him about "what's wrong?". Yes. I know, just shut up, Heather, and let him be. Otherwise he'll just get worse.
| |
|
Oooh, hey, Simpsons is almost on ("that magic, magic time" as David just said. But he's only talking about the condiments). I'm watching too much TV these days. I watch Simpsons almost religiously from 6-7, and I used to watch the 11pm show, too (still will, if I haven't seen it), but now I go to bed too early. I finally caught "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (yes, I know I didn't put the Simpsons in quotes. Sue me.) last night, and I loved it! Funny, intelligently written, self-referential (what we used to call "post-modern" when we were English majors) etc. And, cute chicas who kick ass, which is always a plus. And goofy. Ok, I now see what the fuss was about. | (I dunno. I think I like the asterisks better than all those parenthesis.) |
| Later (8:26pm): David was ok. He was just hungry. We just had a very personal discussion on our belly buttons. Well, his, and the amount of lint... | |
| A short time later (8:45pm): Oh. Nevermind. David *did* have something on his mind, which he has just presented to me after much cuteness and clowning around. Dammit. I *knew* there was something he wasn't telling me earlier. You are now saved from excruciatingly loving descriptions of how much I love this complicated, introverted, and vexingly adorable man. Whew. You're lucky. |
|
So, many of you (ok, my mom wrote me) were wondering what it was that
David had to tell me last night. Even David commented, this morning, that
I make it sound much worse than it was. I guess I do. But my point was
really that I *knew* there was something up, even though he tried to hide
it. I hate that. I guess, if I really can't tell, then yes, we didn't
have to deal with it right away. But it was sort of hanging there all
evening, with me wondering what it was that was secretly bothering
him...letting that sort of thing stress my evening with David really bites
my buttons. | |
|
It was just a scheduling thing. | |
|
Oh! I hope most of you out there read this with empathy and not with a
voyeurs smile. I know I'm terribly petty often, and I sure don't hide it
too well from you guys, but I don't think that it's abnormal. I try to
be, um, forthright and honest. Sure, I can get catty behind your back,
but I never pretend that I'm never catty. Do you see what I mean? I try
to be honest about my character. I'm not sweetness and light. Not all
the time at least :-) | |
|
Yeah, yeah, what scheduling thing? David wanted me to switch nights,
Thursday for Friday, so that he could see MA the one night she had off. | |
|
This has so many levels I don't know where to start. You know that, up
until 12/15/98, David was dating both me and Mary Anne (both of us fairly
seriously). We were doing the poly thang, and, to be honest, I sure
wasn't dealing with it too well there at the end. I don't know how to go
into my reasoning without telling you too much about the other lives
involved as well. But, that's one thing about poly--many people are
involved; many people know your business. Let's just say that I had a
hard time dealing with the fact that she was as important to him as I was.
Yes, even though she introduced us. See, I never thought I'd get so
involved with David -- I thought it'd be this light thing. But I fell in
love w/ him just one teensy month after our first kiss. That's what the
15th of every month is for me, the anniversary of that kiss. I'm pretty
mushy about him, if you couldn't tell, and I give him lots of credit he
earns only sporadically. But he was nuts about her. I still think he
loved/loves her more than me. They had talked about starting a family,
all sorts of commitment things that he and I weren't ready to talk about
(but did anyway). Oh! It drove me nuts when he would spend a night with
her. It got worse and worse until I was wondering if I wouldn't have to
break up with him after the holidays. | |
|
Then my dad died.
| |
|
Then MA came to some serious decisions. Then David and Mary Anne broke
up. | |
|
So, since that time you'd think I'd be happy, right? No. I'm still
jealous.
| |
|
Think about it. Wouldn't you be? It's classic to be jealous of the
ex-girlfriend, the more recent the breakup and the more intense the
relationship, often the fiercer the jealousy. Yes, I'm releived that
there is no longer a romantic/sexual aspect to their relationship, but
that doesn't mean I don't feel like something of a consolation prize. Add
to this David's recent "I'm not sure if I want to be in a relationship
right now" mood, and you've got one intensely worried, jealous Heather.
So, when he's so eager to change our plans so he can fit into *her*
extremely busy schedule... not only does it bring back bad memories (of
getting booted so he could see MA on her nights free), but it makes me
pace all night long with jealousy. What are they doing? Is he being
sweeter to her than he is to me? Is he kissing her on the forehead and
telling her he still loves her? Is he blaming me for their breakup? Is
he longing for her?? Are they CUDDLING RIGHT NOW??? | |
|
Luckily, I'm writing this at work. She's still at work too, so they can't
be doing these things right now. I think this journal would be a lot more
frantic and mean if I were actually wondering those things. No, I have
that to look forward to for tonight. | |
|
Oh, yeah. I said he could change the schedule. Why? Well, I didn't at
first, and he sent off an email to her last night telling her that he
couldn't see her. He said it was fine either way, but I know he really
wanted me to switch. There was far too much tense time last night, when
he was pressuring me for a decision (and earlier, when he told me, and
before that, when I was wondering what the hell was on his mind)*-- But, well, he was
so accomadating. So considerate of my feelings on the matter...well, you
know, that's what I've always wanted. Consideration. Not being told that
my feelings were wrong, invalid or even inconveinent. He was willing to
wait to see her, and he did a reasonably good job of pretending it didn't
matter if it took weeks for their schedules to coincide. He was, in
brief, *trying*, boys and girls. He was putting effort and emotional
control into our relationship. | *Believe it or not, we managed to have a mostly ok time last night. I guess you can tell because of my brief good mood in my journal last night. He was actually kinda sweet. Buttering me up? Who knows? |
|
So, my guilty conscience woke me up this morning. David's back was warm
and smooth against my arm, and he was sleeping with his mouth slightly
open, curls askew, snoring as lightly as a babe. It was so early the
light was a muddy silver. I ached for him. I wanted to make him happy.
I wanted to please him, make him smile. I wanted us to be together, in a
really functional, romantic, cohesive way. I wanted us.
| |
|
So, after much hemming and hawing (all the while he *still* didn't press
me to go back on my decision), I told him, "Look. I know you want to see
her. And I appreciate the way you've been so good about letting me decide
whether or not to change the schedule. So, we can see each other
tomorrow, and you two can hang out tonight". | |
|
I know. So valiant.
| |
|
I'm not going to tell you about the silly things I asked next. It's my
journal, dammit. But I will give some credit to Christa for having such a
good chat on relationships with me this morning. Our talk really calmed
me down, and helped me deal with my nervousness that would have plagued my
day. She's hella cool. | |