obfuscated girl

ain't no sex in my rolodex

har mar superstar is playing at onopa tonight. if anyone who is reading this has fantasized about having the sweaty genitals of a ron jeremy lookalike dangled unabashedly in your face, this is by all means the show for you. myself, i think i'm gonna knit or something.
i am still sleepy. matthew came back last night and i, of course, am going straight to hell because i slept in a bad with him and we kept waking up because, well, from my end he is a completely different person to sleep in a bed with from my sister. i'm quite content. in fact i am the equivalent of a cat with a well-rubbed stomach. i am still trying to process the fact that this is the year in which the most happened to me on record, with the possible exception of the year i hit puberty. i lost my job and fell in love. one is good in a roundabout way, the other is good in a blatant way. i kept my friends and kept my enemy list fairly short. i don't really believe in new year's resolutions, so ha-ha, you don't get to read any. but i have stopped being sad about the fact that this year went by Extremely Fucking Quickly and intend to stop bemoaning the fact that i'm going to be thirty (uh, in five years). as my father put it: "you have two alternatives, sarah: get older or die."
and i think i like my life just fine, thank you.
also i have started doing tae bo. i realize this makes me as far as exercise trends are concerned about ten years behind everyone else, but i am not trendy and i have to take what i can get, because being unemployed doesn't give me the budget to get a membership at bali's. i intend to continue some sort of daily exercise regimen at whatever lengths i have to go to, because i have realized that i don't exactly need it for my body per se, but for my mind. basically i had a breakdown over my body and confessed to my mother (not for the first time) that i hate the way i look. while this is not precisely true, there is still enough of my brain that keeps trying to fuck me up. i need it to go away. very, very much. this is the one place in my life that i need to start having a bloated ego. i'm not quite there. i'm not sure if i'll ever be.
to quote mr. har mar: "give it up for me. i'm the fucking best."
now i just need to fully believe that.
soundtrack: all girls' summer fun band, "dear mr & mrs troublemaker"
(out.)

tear off your own head

i am exhausted. i don't know if it's the exercise, the strain of holidays in general, or the fact that this morning was the second time i slept in a bed with my little sister and she woke me up by crawling over me to hit the snooze button, but i am fucking tired. and i don't really know why i sat down to write other than out of habit.
so i will keep this brief. i got all the cds i had asked for for christmas (that is NOT the only reason it was a better christmas than usual), plus i burned cursive, the streets and justin timberlake (mwah ha ha ha ha ha) from aforementioned sister. it is the most musically rich christmas i have ever had. i think...just the fact that i got a chance to do things with my family rather than run away after a weekend and have everyone be all tense because i'm leaving made it better. i am also recovering from an insane amount of mexican food consumed with my family earlier today. and my fish are not dead; i had feared they would be dead after leaving them without food since tuesday. the important thing is that i am home. and reflecting on the fact that everyone made it through another year. as fucked up as we are as a family, i had an unabashed good time. and i sort of miss them now.
i'm finna go pass out now.
soundtrack: elvis costello, when i was cruel
(out.)

our father who art in heaven, save me from the wreck i'm about to drown in

hello.
i am still at my parents' house. i have decided that my motto for the upcoming year is going to be "...whatever." so the thing i said about i'm not going to write while i'm here? total lie. if any member of my family actually reads this, which i doubt, they can sue me for defamation of character when i am famous.
christmas was good. after we were done with all the yelling. which i am not going to go into incredible amounts of detail on because as i have said before, every family everywhere has its own version of Weird Family Xmas Tension. i got all four cds that i asked for, which is the first time that ever happened, i think, and my dad liked his present, and i got to listen to my sister freaking out because her long lost hippy boyfriend who is not actually her boyfriend came back from his hippy finding-himself journey a day sooner than expected which means she has to decide some things, and i ate more spinach dip than i ever have in my life, which is perfectly fine with me, and quieted most but not all Fears Of Gaining Weight by becoming closely acquainted with my parents' exercise bike and think that i have convinced them to get one for my tiny apartment, but had a breakdown in front of my mother and sister about my Body Issues anyway, and i hung out with my high school friends twice, once at cafe montmartre and once at monty's blue plate diner, both of which locations bring up incredibly hard and strange memories, and my crazy artist friend offered to take "trashy beautiful" pictures of myself and matthew after seeing individual pictures of each of us...
and i am just generally having a good time, even though it all feels strange and alien and not like home anymore, and no one has killed anyone yet.
my next report will be from the safe confines of home.
soundtrack: pretty girls make graves, the new romance.
(out.)

next year all our troubles will be miles away

hello.
clem snide was fantastic, even though the audience was not. they played a song i don't remember hearing previously called "enrique iglesias's mole." which was actually the same subject matter as its title. i have not laughed so hard in a week. once again, if this page is not updated this week it is because i am going home to madison, land of fucking hippies--for the longest amount of time that i have been there since i lived there when i was seventeen--for christmas and i do not want my parents finding out about this. yes, i am 25 and am still concerned about my parents' opinion of me.
i was trying to explain last night to one of matthew's friends why i hate certain elements of christmas. i feel that i didn't do enough of a good job, so in the interest of appealing to both my likes and dislikes of it, i present a list of pros and cons of christmas.
good:
1. the feeling that i get when it snows and it's close to christmas and i am outside
2. presents
2a. honestly, more so giving than recieving
3. the charlie brown christmas special
4. "have yourself a merry little christmas" as performed by bert and ernie
5. tree decorating (as of late we have always waited until the last second and listened to the soundtrack to the nutcracker. on vinyl, because we are old school.)
6. the feeling that i will always have, i suspect, when i wake up on christmas morning, like i am seven and there actually is a santa claus
7. being with my family, even if our issues have back issues
8. midnight mass, even though i am not a christian
9. bruce springsteen's version of "santa claus is coming to town"

bad:
1. christmas being advertised before halloween
2. the assholes that line shopping malls (five years of retail experience, i fucking dare you to disagree with me)
3. the pressure that i think that most people feel to make everything absolutely perfect--running around and trying to get your holly table settings to look just exactly right destroys the feeling of it
4. and yes it's a moot point/losing battle to argue that christmas has become too commercial and tacky and whatnot -that doesn't mean that i'm going to shut up about it.
5. but the biggest thing of all that i don't like about christmas is the fact that it makes me feel poor. there is so much that i want to get for people that i just don't have the money for.
see? see? the good list is longer than the bad.
apparently we are on orange alert. call me jaded or a communist but not only do i not know what the fuck that means, until our nation's leaders start being more specific about where the threats are coming from i don't think i believe them. couldn't they just say "you're traveling, it's christmas, the world is not a safe place, be careful," rather than instill this mass hysteria?
and with that i begin to pack for the week at home.
merry holiday.
those of you who i will miss terribly this week, you know who you are.
and i will quote myself from my previous entry: "if i don't come back you know where to send the dogs. oh wait, you don't."
damn, i'm funny.
soundtrack: dismemberment plan, ice of boston + 3
fascinating website of the day: capturing the friedmans
(out.)

ugly or pretty, it's still my city, make up your mind to get in or get out

well, last night taught me a very important lesson, kids: just because it's FREE doesn't mean you HAVE to drink it. my alcoholism, while not actually existing, has a new chapter of drunkenness. the mantra was fun. we danced to booty music and were the slightly-less-well-dressed-and-slightly-skankier version of dorothy parker and the algonquin round table, such was the wit that flowed. and alcohol. there was the gentleman who fell down dramatically next to our table and as he asked me to help him up i informed him that i do not talk to strangers.
HA!
there was the incident when my friend kellie asked the bartender at the back bar what exactly you can smoke out of the four hookahs that are mysteriously there.
HA HA!
...you probably had to be there.
either it takes drink number three to knock my ass over, previously my self-imposed limit was two, but it was LADIES NIGHT. and i am a LADY. so. or my system cannot tolerate the combination of red bull and vodka. it got to be 1:30 in the morning and we found ourselves at vitucci's, one of my least favorite bars ever but it was across the street. and it got voted once by the shepherd express the best pickup bar in milwaukee (grrrrrrrrreat...) so we were there and i was like "what time is it, y'all?" and i realized that i had to be up in six hours and i was Very Drunk Indeed, so i walked home (talking to myself the whole way both because i needed moral support and hoped that if i appeared crazy no one would rape and dismember me and sell the body parts into white slavery. it worked, didn't it?)
woke up this morning and felt like someone had crushed my head between their Very Large Stompy Boots.
oh, and the other lesson that i learned is that girls wearing britney spears hats make me feel murderous.
had the appointment with the dvr today and things are very much looking up. i walked home from fourth and north with a feeling of intense calm (along with my head and the exhaustion), calmer than i've felt since this whole thing started. essentially i am going to a place called the milwaukee center for independence (i am not sure if this makes me feel like i am some sort of freedom fighter bursting from the chains of my disability or not) once a week until i either find a job or decide that i want to go back to school. which could happen. as my sister put it, "what's $3,000 more in loans?"
oh, and the cat is back. he finally showed up in the live trap after we initially caught the wrong cat. i am so relieved. i can't even tell you.
and i hereby resolve Never To Talk About Cats Again In This Forum.
tonight i am going to see wee clem snide play at the bbc, another bar that i hate. but my love for the clem snide overrides that. and then it is a weekend with Boy and apologizing to the cat for losing him in the first place and then home for xmas for about a week, the longest amount of time i will have spent with my family since i moved away at seventeen. gulp. happy kwanzaa, y'all. feelings, wishes, season, etc. etc. nutsack etc.
and if i don't come back you know where to send the dogs. oh, wait, you don't.
here is the Random Say Anything Quote of the day:
"YOU MUST CHILL!! YOU MUST CHILL!! I HAVE HIDDEN YOUR KEYS!! CHILL!!"

soundtrack: crooked fingers, bring on the snakes
absolute perfectest album to listen to while walking outside in winter: see above
(out.)

oh, es un muy grande cabeza

doop dee doo doot.
i done some writing today. first non-computer-gut-spilling writing that i've done in a while, so i'm rather proud of myself. i have been half-roped into going to Ladies Night at mantra lounge (woooooo) which is a dancey place that, despite its annoying tendency to name drinks after various chakras, is pretty okay. i say half because i am DYING to get out of the fucking HOUSE. i mean, i have been out of the house--today's excursions included spending my last five dollars on an entirely-not-worth-it breakfast at a burger king in west allis this morning. and about an hour ago i walked all the way to papa rosa's pizza to get a refund for the pizza that i decided i did not want five minutes after calling the order in. (it's not so much that i'm bipolar as i am too quick to give into my impulses and then thankfully have the ability to rein myself in. sometimes.)
but outings such as this do not count. it has been a while since i went someplace with the only intent being to make fun of other people while looking extremely skanky myself.
oh, and return of the king was pretty amazing.
and i have a new link. go look at it. apparently there is an entire Seedy Underbelly of literate-smut blogs. my favorite kind.

soundtrack: the new loud, "angelique, write a song for me" (a song written about my rockstar friend--i'm a celebrity by association! i'm a celebrity by association!)

(out.)

don't waste your time on me, you're already a voice inside my head'

okay, so in the depths of my despair i didn't acknowledge the fact that my blog has a Whole New Look and is Very Pretty. woohoo for terms like skins which i didn't know anything about. (woohoo for having way, way, way too much time on my hands.) also for blogskins.com. woohoo today has been much of the same. in fact i don't ecatly know why i am so hellbent on chronicling the same thing that i go through every day if it's just me bitching. this may take a non-daily-basis turn soon, i'm not sure yet. today was spent hypothesizing about the cat's whereabouts, watching bad television and becoming obsessed with downloading the new blink-182 album in its entirety, thanks to stupid cable and stupid mtv, which featured a behind the album on them or some fucking thing. (not to mention lack of moral values, as i did not say "i bought the blink-182 album.) shut up. i don't want to hear it. not that i need to justify everything to you, but the following is a list of things i am a sucker for:
1. a pretty melody
2. boys with tattoos and obviously dyed hair (matthew, do NOT get any ideas)
3. robert smith
4. critical accolade type things that speak of band x's Growth and Change that somehow make it okay to listen to a band that has been featured on trl
4a. many times
5. geetars
6. White Boys With Angst
in fact, i would say that bout 90% of my record collection is comprised of Songs By White Boys With Angst...it's just me. i'm sure that you could make a list of things that you are a sucker for and i would roll my eyes too.
now that the self-defense mechanism (it's like tourette's with me) is over with, what else do i have to report?
i did feel better today because while hunting for this album nonsense i had myself a wee full-on geek out barefoot dance party, something that i have not done in a while. sitting around the house like a fucking convalescent gives you a certain amount of pent-up energy, i guess. as does eating nothing but several handfuls of chips and some low fat triscuits because it is too cold to go find real food. and you are lazy. and joke too much about cultivating an eating disorder.
last night i had dinner at pieces of eight with matt and a bunch of his coworkers. as i knew none of them and they were all at least ten years older than me and i was kind of shellshocked and wanting to make a good impression, i was rather quiet. and scared. until i had three glasses of wine and two of champagne and one of his coworkers consumed a couple too many apple martinis and started conversing with the pieces of eight manager about the penis enlargement junk emails he gets. whereupon i decided that old people are funny and i was not scared anymore, but remained quiet. i guess that's a tendency that i inherited from my dad--inability to be social if i am scared. it was a good night, but i broke my vegetarianism of ten years, because oysters were served as an appetizer and they are the one food i wanted to try because i had heard they were Sexy. turns out they are not so very sexy when served with spinach, and are in fact gross and a big letdown and i broke my convictions for nothing. oysters are people too! but three glasses of wine certainly make you want to...eat everything.
tonight we are going to see the return of the king . i have learned from the telly-vision that elijah wood has cried upon each of his five viewings of it, so basically there is no hope for me.

soundtrack: ben folds, "the luckiest," a song which has joined the ranks of songs that make me break down in full-on sobbing upon the first time hearing them. a group which i wish i could say was small. but no. i am that emotionally unstable.
(out.)

nothing's gonna change my world

hello. i am going absolutely crazy. it's nasty and disgusting out and i have spent most of the day shuttling from one side of town to the other to pick up a change of clothes and feed my stupid homicidal fish. i have not completely discussed how much not having a job is fucking with my head. i feel like i have been hiding from my life by merit of the fact that i hung out with bishop the cat at matthew's house last week when he was out of town and that matthew is pretty much the only person i see on a daily basis. which i don't mind. i hope he doesn't mind me. but the point is that i feel this complete disconnection from a life that i pretty much followed for five years. i hardly see my friends anymore. my days are spent watching television and reading and i don't have any idea where to go from here. i feel like by merit of the fact that there is so little variation in what i do with my time i have become an incredibly boring person as a result. i want to be stimulated or challenged by something again, but i am waiting to have my third appointment with the department of voc rehab on friday and it would be stupid to go looking for a McJob in the meantime. so all i can do is wait, really. and walk. everywhere. and watch tv. and reread book for the five thousandth time. and shop for things that i can't afford. and be with matthew.
i don't know. loneliness has set in with a vehemence that i have never experienced before. my biggest fear right now is that i'm going to transfer all this neediness on to matthew because he is the obvious host, being always around and all, and that he's going to get sick of me. not just matthew. i am afraid that when i see all my friends they're going to have the same perception--that i'm grasping at threads and not making sense about the root of my discontent. i never wanted to be this needy.
i don't want my old life back. i just want to be able to somehow get a glimpse of what the new one, what the next phase, is going to be like and know for absolute certain that everything is going to be okay.


soundtrack: beatles, let it be

(out.)

fuck the formalities

spent this weekend seeing the very milky christmas vii show, an annual tradition. i wasn't sure what to expect this year (ohmigod, where's death cab?) but the show introduced me to the fact that yes, low can rock out, shattering all of my previous perceptions of them being extremely quiet lo-fi indie rock darlings. also i totally have a crush on the singer. he's married, in addition to being a rockstar so this will go nowhere. but after the show my friend nicole and i deconstructed his appeal and came to the conclusion that he's like the college professor who is brilliant and unattainable and scruffy and wears stripey sweaters but in a--well--hot sort of way. i was also introduced to a fine fine band called troubled hubble. i then proceeded to get Very Very Sick Indeed and spent the rest of the weekend going through boxes of tissues like they're going out of style. then about an hour after matthew and i had the folllowing conversation:
me: "why do i feel so nauseous?"
him: "well, you are swallowing a lot of snot..."
me: "SICK." [or something to that effect]
...i proceeded to empty my stomach of everything that was in it. y'all really needed to know that, didn't you? that's what i'm here for. if this is the Deadly Flu Of 2003 and i die or something i am totally blaming my mother. i am feeling better today, thanks for asking. still kind of shaky, but i can breathe again. breathing rules.
i can't help but think that perhaps if i didn't smoke i wouldn't have the same cold/throat thing or a version thereof every winter. i did not smoke at ALL yesterday and am rather proud of myself. i would be lying if i said i was completely confident that the same thing is going to happen today, but i'm...not...unconfident. feh. i am aware that quitting altogether would solve a lot of my problems. i am aware that i would make my mother the proudest mother alive. and boy probably the happiest boy alive. i just don't know. what would i do with my angst if i quit?
that is just about everything i have to report. now it is back to extreme dating (i am gorging on cable before m. gets rid of it tonight. i know, priorities, fucked, etc. quiet.)
soundtrack: silence (too weak to focus on anything musical)
(out.)

the way out is in

writing this in preparation for leaving for the airport, where i am going to Meet My Beloved (he was supposed to be here at 11 this morning, dammit) and generally be a cliche and geeky and girly and enact fantasy reunion scenes and whatnot.
my house is a mess. although unemployment gives me a good deal of freetime (understatement of the week, folks) i apparently have not learned how to Use It Appropriately yet. it's not so much that my house is dirty per se, it's that i have this annoying habit of throwing a book on the floor when i'm done with it, throwing a shirt on the floor when i'm undressing (or being undressed...mmmm...) (i'm sorry, sexual frustration is kind of all-encompassing) (am i actually typing any of this? am i going to leave it? yes, i am) and so on and so forth. oh well. ain't like i'm gonna have anything to do tomorrow. or the day after. or probably the day after that.
fuck, y'all.
the only other thing worth reporting is that i Officially Have No Idea what to get either the boy in my life or my father for christmas. spent a good deal of time browsing various shops on brady street for ideas and mentally enacting dismemberment rituals upon the girls who work at starship for pricing a puma shirt at $68 that would have looked fantastic on matthew....i got nothing. if i weren't afraid that it was going to somehow come back and bite me in the ass, i would just say "i don't believe in christ anyway and the fact that i celebrate any of this is silly." but the fact is, i want to show the people i love that i love them. i have always said that i find giving things better than receiving them myself. but on my budget, i can't do ANYTHING for ANYONE.
and that is the most frustrating feeling in the world.

soundtrack: yeah yeah yeahs, "tick"
(out.)

however far away, i will always love you

back at matthew's house. and this time the attempt is going to be openly futile because it is raining and sad and disgusting and any cat in its right mind will not be going out to do whatever cats do when they are out. but i worry. endless conversations have been had about my worrying. this is just who i am. and if he can actually eat tonight, even if he doesn't come home, i will feel slightly better.
and now, in the interest of talking about something other than the fucking cat, i just learned from mtv (and who says cable doesn't teach you anything?) that eminem almost got in trouble with the secret service over the following couplet, from a song that was leaked to the internet: "i don't rap for dead presidents/i'd rather see the president dead." apparently this constituted a physical threat to the president, but they have decided to drop the investigation. way to take music literally, guys. way to completely misread metaphors. of course, mr. mathers has been out of the public eye for a while, so at the very least people are going to start talking about him again. and besides. without a pistol or a posse could he really kick anyone's ass? he's tattooed and all, but he strikes me as little. maybe i just don't examine him shirtless enough. him without his shirt, i mean, not me.
the other thing i learned from the cable today is that i now have a new reaspect for ag. (to the uninformed, which may be you, buddy, ag=xtina=christina aguilera.) she of the dirrrrty, who most people i know have a love-hate relationship with, or to be more accurate, a hate-hate relationship.
also apparently my ass-poor eating habits and my tendency this week to walk 3000 miles a day has made me lose 2.5 pounds. yay for living below the poverty line!
the days are just bleeding into one another. there is a core group of people who i am keeping in touch with but that's mostly by phone or the yahoo instant messenger (tm). in my next life, i would like to be a cactus. they don't ever get lonely or randy or lose their jobs or worry about making rent or worry because they can't afford a good christmas present for their father. or anyone else, for that matter. they're..just...cacti. they just ARE. i think that would be great.
you may or may not interpret this as a sign of growing complacency. i wish to make it clear that it's not. i wanted to be a cactus before i entered the wonderful world of government cheese. it's just that when you aren't working, even if you hate your job you still have a sense of purpose. and i have lost that. i don't know what my purpose is. or rather i'm slowly beginning to have inklings of what it could be but no one can snap their fingers and make everything happen right now right this second posthaste please.
if anyone can make that happen, please tell me how.

soundtrack: kate bush, "running up that hill" (amazing what you can find when you hunt through your boyfriend's computer--this may or may not help me forgive him for the ace of base)
(smirk)
(out.)

cats are cunts

the war is not yet won by either side. the battle last night extended to 12:30 a.m. whereupon after the first time i saw sphinx--and i did see him, he's still here--he didn't show his stupid face again, and i was exhausted, and i WANTED to stay up until 2, i feel like a failure, but i also have to be at bluemound & 76th by 11:00 today for the Part II of Figuring Out What I Want To Do With My Life, and i figured it wouldn't do to be so tired as to appear hungover while figuring that shit out. the internet also failed me--i spent part of the time (which could have been spent more constructively, i do admit) searching for some sort of live animal rescue chat thingy so i could be told what to do. like i was gonna get some guy with a handlebar moustache and a butterfly net to magically appear. grr. argh.
and not to be maudlin or anything, but i have decided that i reeeeeally, if given the choice, would prefer from now on to wake up in matthew's bed with him in it. it's not that i'm walking around here like the human female equivalent of a cat (which i once told him that i was because both myself and bishop kind of have the same habit of throwing ourselves in front of his path and begging for attention) and crying and missing him, but i...had to smell one of his shirts and then put it on and then hug a pillow pretending it was him in order to fall asleep last night. and even then i still woke up at seven.
does that make me codependent?
the fact that i have had more than one dream about him (matthew) dying before and the fact that i didn't hear from him at all last night makes me worry, even though i know it shouldn't. and that things are fine and they will be fine and he'll be back soon. but damn, could someone please give me a new head? i really want out of this one right now.

soundtrack: triumph the insult comic dog, "cats are cunts" (naturally)

(out.)

and another thing:

I need to finish this up," he says, "because I'm now at my friend Shay's house and I haven't seen her in about a year-and-a-half and I'm gonna try and put my tongue in her mouth."

this is in the top ten best things i've found on the internet ever. it's slug from atmosphere speaking the quote; i came across it whilst doing research for my next potential review for glorious noise. wish i had the link to the article but i just knee-jerk copy-&-pasted-it. man, i love not having a job...
oh and it is 9:53 and still no sign of the fuckwit.
(out.)

i was next in line, which meant i was invisible

writing this from once again the bowels of exhaustion (i like it here), but at matthew's house, which means, um, the exhaustion shows up on the internet faster because he has a better computer. whilst matt is in maine for work i promised him that i would stake out the stupid fucking goddamn son of a bitch missing cat for at least one night. my weapons include the porch light, cat food, and tuna fish. so far the only things that have happened are the neighborhood stray who is not sphinx has eaten some of the tuna fish, i accidentally stabbed myself while trying to open the tuna, and bishop, matt's other, non-missing cat, won't leave me alone because i gave him some tuna so he wouldn't feel left out. possible Very Big Mistake--he throws up a lot anyway and tuna flavored/scented throw up is not going to by any means be a pleasant thing. we'll see.
i am finding it mildly strange to be in a house with no telephone. kind of uneasy. this is probably just because i was up unti 1:30 last night reading a rape memoir and when i read things like that i think everyone everywhere is out to kill me and/or rape me and sell me into white slavery for at least a day after i finish them.
i'm also just rather lonely, and the fact that i can't call anyone is not something i'm used to. matthew's house is nice and the cat is keeping me company but it isn't the same without him here. and i'm beginning to feel like a jackass because i am speaking in full paragraphs to the cat. and watching horrible, horrible programming on mtv. i used to feel less privileged because i didn't have cable...
also i applied at borders bookstore today. HA! take that, you starnes & chernobyl fucks!
(i do not intend to fully pursue employment at another bookstore. i just want to get out of the HOUSE, is all. and it's something that i know a great deal about as far as areas of employment go, the hours are not as fucktipated, i have to look for jobs one way or another, and i can still plan the rest of my life if i get part time.)
and now i am going to go watch out the window and think like a cat.
soundtrack: white stripes, de stijl
(out.)

i have seven faces, thought i knew which one to wear

hello.
i am writing this from the bowels of exhaustion--yesterday after my appointment (quote from career placement lady: "have you ever considered becoming a teacher?" FUCK me) i decided, in my fear of lethargy and/or weight gain, that it would be in my best interest to walk from 76th & wisconsin to 2nd & wisconsin. which is five and a half miles, something that i didn't realize until it was pointed out to me. i also decided that it would be fabulously intelligent to do this on an empty stomach. so i did. cultivating an eating disorder is becoming more and more attractive every day--hey, it would save money!
and then, icing on the cake, rather than get coffee whilst waiting to meet matthew at his house, which was my original plan, i thought that experimenting with blatant irony (is that an oxymoron?) would be an equally fabulous idea. so i went to scotty's, a west allis bar which is owned by scotty, who is, in fact, insane, and read "drinking: a love story" while drinking a bloody mary made with the Most Absolut I Have Ever Seen In My Life. and trying to decide whether i was being hit on by the boys playing pool or not. and so i was feeling pretty good, if by lightheaded and woozy and/but not hungry anymore i mean good, and so i drank a beer as well. and then it was time for the eight block or so walk to matthew's, which must have gotten some strange looks from west allians, to see this tiny girl in a huge winter overcoat drunkenly swaying down greenfield and singing at the top of her lungs to death cab for cutie. at matthew's, upon informing him that i was drunk, i eventually broke down crying. after i had explained everything. which i still can't exactly explain to myself.
no matter how happy i am, there is still this little monster of sadness that lives somewhere in my body, slightly behind my lungs. i have had to fight with it more lately because of the shitty circumstances that i find myself in. but because this thing lives within me i flirt way too much with self-destructive impulses. i see it hurt the people that i love and it kills me. i would say that i just don't know what to do about it but that seems like way too much of a copout, like it's too passive. but at the same time, i really DON'T know why i pull this shit, why i'm so attracted to not eating and chainsmoking and drinking too heavily and cutting myself with razors and scarring myself with cigarettes and basically bringing my physical state to the point where my mind is at times. there is probably a rational explanation but i would have to have years of psychology training to begin to tell myself anything other than speculation and theories. romanticizing the darkness. maybe there is no one answer. so: at this point i have to leave it at i don't know.
cut to about an hour ago, when my mother called me
and woke me up, and i wasn't really sleeping but i was trying to. you would have to have five more pages of backstory for me to begin to describe what the conversation was about, but it appears that i hurt my sister very deeply while i was in town for thanksgiving and am further hurting her by giving her the (false) impression
that i'm seeing her concert because i feel obligated to and am going to Run Back To Milwaukee the second it is over. and everything was resolved, she came in the door while i was on the phone with my mom and everything was worked out, but i ended up in tears. again.
i just want to get through ONE day where i don't cry over something.
i don't want to feel like i am constantly at odds with myself. i don't want to fight myself anymore.
have a good weekend, everyone.

soundtrack: preston school of industry, "get your crayons out!"

(out.)

i wasn't made for secrets like these

today was good. with the exception of the fact that i had a peanut butter sandwich and three cups of coffee all day (i am going to a friend's house for dinner--a positive thing about unemployment is you have an awful lot of freetime) and am feeling kind of dizzy. perhaps i am subconsciously trying to feel what it's like to actually go hungry or preparing for when i do.
got the almost-last paycheck--it was mailed out THREE DAYS after it arrived at darn & cobalt--i am tempted to say it's pure aggression. but whatever. the problem is that i haven't deposited it because the ghetto-ass ghetto atm in my neighborhood is out of deposit envelopes. it's just one thing after another.
got the aforementioned three cups of coffee with my friend on an outing that turned into five hours--after coffee we ran around and looked at used vinyl and i found a copy of the lovin' spoonful's greatest hits, which i listened to when i was, like, six. my parents had a copy as a holdover from their hippie days. and i got sad because i am not six anymore.
i feel like such a vagrant. half the time i just don't know what to do with myself (de-ne-neh) other than walk a lot and watch "all my children," which makes me feel even more pathetic. tomorrow i am going to haul my bus-taking ass all the way across town to take a series of tests recommended by the dvr which will help me, apparently, figure out What I Want To Do And Would Be Successful At. which is nice and all, and we were trying to schedule it before black tuesday happened, but, you know, could you just place me at a factory or some shit and i'll figure out a Career later? papa needs a brand new bag. also my phone not to be shut off.
i don't know anymore. i feel like even my writing is getting boring. this may change soon as matthew is going to meet my parents on saturday. we are driving to madison to see my little sister's orchestra concert. and while i expect no drama in that, it will be interesting nonetheless because we will be seeing white people with dreadlocks in their natural habitat. either that or my dad will crash matthew's car.
(i'm totally nervous...)
and if anyone wants to buy me "the people's history of the dismemberment plan" for christmas or at least steal one of the posters advertising it from atomic records, i promise you my firstborn and/or will write you into my will.
because i'm rich, you know. i was just working at barnes & fucktards because i felt guilty about my trust fund.

soundtrack: the rapture, "house of the jealous lovers."
("one. ONE! two. TWO! three. THREE! four. FOUR! five. FIVE! six. SIX! seven. SEVEN! eight. EIGHT!!!")

(out.)

there's lightning in your teeth

there is a small child somewhere in this building. i can smell it. more precisely, i could hear it this morning when i woke up at 7:20 and it took me an hour to get back to sleep. i would like to point out that these apartments are the size of small closets and that if you stick a small child in one, with or without a parent, it is going to scream. a lot. as it did this morning. and nowhere in the parent handbook, i think, does it say that the best way to calm a screaming child is by telling it to shut up. motherfuckers!
agh.
so things are looking up, in a way. yesterday was spent with my fellow unemployment friend/style guru and setting up a concrete appointment with a woman in career counseling after playing phone tag with her for, like, three weeks. something i have noticed when i talk to Professional Adults: i use phrases like "touch base."
and friday the unemployment people are going to call for a phone interview. scary!
yesterday's tools for getting through the day included apple pie ice cream (it was only three dollars), toilet paper (i needed to buy it) and chocolate soy milk, which i bought in a bout of insanity. it does not quite taste like chocolate or milk. but it's good. i know you don't believe me.
and the only other thing that i have to add is if my last check from harm & odle doesn't come today i am going to, in fact, break some heads.

soundtrack: tv on the radio, "staring at the sun"
(out.)

everybody will be let down

so this is Day Six officially of unemployment, but it really feels like day one. this is the first day of it that i have to spend largely on my own rather than (crying) at my parents' house or (crying) at matthew's house. i feel extremely fragile. while i can be laughing and having a really good time one minute, what miss golightly would call the "mean reds" can sneak up on me more quickly than my moods have ever shifted.
and i'm really not sure what i'm afraid of.
in other news, i am no longer an alien or a communist in the eyes of matthew's friends, for we watched the first indiana jones last night. it was pretty good. i am so relieved. also matthew's grandfather has died of complications from alzheimer's. matt said that it was for the best as he's been very sick and not himself. he's more worried about his father at this point.
so yeah, this is a cheerful fucking entry.
*here is a list of things that are good right now:
*i have enough food to last a week, maybe more
*i have vices and money for vices (way to prioritize, jackass)
*none of my utilities have been shut off, nor will they be
*i will have just enough, i think, to pay my rent
*i have my friends and my family and my matthew
*and i am the best writer ever.

soundtrack: the strokes, "automatic stop"; box car racer, "tiny voices"
(out.)