Long Time Gone

I wish I had her hair. I used to have really thick, wavy hair, and it made me feel beautiful. Not anymore. I feel robbed. I feel I've been locked in a tower for years. Less so, today, but it's an apt metaphor for much of the past 10-12 years. Would that there had been someone to rescue me, even just to hear or to see me!

I spoke at Brian's funeral. Janet Marie sat on the floor by his coffin with a stuffed animal (I think), because he was that kind of guy. SO many beautiful flower arrangements crowded the front of the funeral home and stood around his coffin. I got him tulips one year for Valentine's Day, together with Elizabeth and Mary. He LOVED them, and when the receptionist at work called him when they arrived, he was like, "I don't know, do you think it's a bomb?" just to gently rattle her. The funeral was sort of in the format of a 12-step meeting. Tim opened the meeting with raw raw unadulterated pain in his trembling voice like i've never heard from anyone. it drove daggers of ice into my heart and mind and rained down on me like a cold, brutal, biting day in belgium. he has so much public speaking experience and training. i cannot believe his strength as he got through those early days, and as the loss of Brian spreads out from us to the ends of the earth. I

i feel transparent when others look at me. vulnerable, open, exposed. i mean, sheesh, i know i have light skin, but this is ridiculous.

Unidentified Founders Object. what was up with the curried chicken parts at lunch?

World Wide Cell Phone Wrestling, Pointing and Scratching Contest 2006.

Please correct any grammatical errors by leaving comments. thank you.

What to major in? Why don't I know? Why don't I have access to this knowlege? Whence the stress and pressure?

Rumor has it that when Einstein was at the Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton, he would absent-mindedly wander through classrooms and write mathematical equations on chalkboards. Apparently, a graduate student had the job to follow him and record said equations. The Church of Shakespeare is actually a coercive cult, in which members are methodically trained to wander through life, inscribing Shakespeare quotes on bulletin boards, as public graffiti, on abandoned warehouses, and across classroom chalkboards.

i think that part of my block around school and not doing homework is that i feel that it needs to be on my terms. i need to feel in control of my schedule, not the other way around, and skipping class and turning in assignments when i want to is my way of doing that--or else one big justification. i still don't regret any of it, though, because what i have encompasses all.

with our silly signs and comings and goings...it's entirely too much fun, plus we get to orchestrate our own soap opera. if they only knew, they would be so disappointed.

worrying if i'll ever be loved enough; if the doubt will ever not split me in two, if the jealousy will ever not eat me alive. whence protection from jealousy?

happiest when not performing are worry and happiness mutually exclusive? most lovable when silly and not self-conscious.

Nope. A little bird on the palm of his hand, until I can fly.

in the midst of pain and suffering and fear and judgment.

I took a quantum leap tonight in the "baring my emotional soul, getting psychologically naked" department. uncertain results. pleased with myself for being honest, surprisingly relieved at getting it off my chest. not thrilled with how it was received, but i knew the price would be high. it's a burden i carry around until i share it with someone. lesson? sometimes concealing opinions is prudent; it does mean compromising honesty in the relationship, however. it was a risk i had to take, and the only way i would learn. a risk i had to take, as are many. the courage to fall flat on my face in order to pick myself up again and move on, often as a new person.

the courage to believe in myself is, too, as is the courage to be honest with myself and with others.

one of his lyrics: "i'll never let your head hit the pillow without my hand behind it." did he even write that song? i totally don't pay attention to the names of singers like him.

Emotional Proliferation: love from the inside out, a ripple effect. there is no overestimating the power of love to heal, to resurrect, and to rejuvenate. it is salvation itself. And So It Is!

my techtonic plates are shifting. it's one of those rare moments when I appreciate being here, and appreciate all that I have.

Do I feel loved only then? Does being loved require feeling needed? I do not want to be that way. Help me heal completely, as I have always known I can be. I am afraid that if others do not need me, they will leave me.

filled with travel, school, neighbors, dance recitals, girl scouts, ice skating, piano, flute, swim parties, block parties, holiday celebrations, friends, and a bright, unlimited future that never came. adding all these personal photos to my blog has been a walk through the past. the good news is that i'm well enough to be able to look at them. for years i could not. the bad news is the profound loss and suffering they reveal. i fell so far, so fast, for so long, with so little knowledge or salvation at all. whatsoever. over and over again. until the end, which never came. cruelty in excelsis.

I liked the movie "Saved" because it pokes fun at ultra, über-Christian fanatacism in a way that probably won't offend most people.

this isn't quite the same, in fact, it's probably more like the opposite, but Teddy Roosevelt used to say "Speak softly and carry a big stick."

he had some creepy informercial on (on a saturday morning) about converting people to christianity. can't stand that sh*t. he has the audacity to assume that he has the answers to everyone else's problems. actually, it's the way he responded to fame, which i can sort of understand, since being a child star must mess with your head more than i'll ever know. it must be so damaging to have the pieces and parts of your personality formed in such a way that you feel your only value is the one assigned to you by studio execs, pushy parents, competitive co-stars, your paycheck, movie critics, etc., that the only way to survive is by becoming other than who you really are. no wonder so many kids have it so hard who started as child stars. i think michael jackson is guilty of child molestation, and i think it's a result of the abuse he suffered on so many levels as a kid. none of it is ok. i think he's fundamentally incapable of taking responsibility for his behavi

I hate using that word with regard to people, but it applies to me and what I want.

Dear Editor, We have no right to criticize the homeless and at the same time deny them the social services they need to get on their feet. Mental illness, which is possibly the primary cause of homelessnes (drug addiction a close second?), needs much more attention and funding. Other relevant needs that are not being appropriately addressed include affordable housing, a living wage, and universal access to healthcare. Take away the lens of privilege through which many of us view the world and reconsider your criticisms. Diana

The following are inspired by letters to the editor I have written over the years about mental illness. I have added a lot to them since their submission. Dear Editor, I have had it with Tom Cruise's ignorant, one-sided, and misinformed attack on psychiatry, and I am worried that some people may take him at his word. I have bipolar disorder, and it is nothing to be ashamed of. No one, least of all someone who is rumored not to have finished high school or read newspapers, let alone scientific journals, such as Tom Cruise, is in any position to tell me that my disorder does not exist, and that further, some fake "religion," such as Scientology, has the answers to a condition he does not understand. Mr. Cruise seems to be on a crusade to convince people like me that our disorders do not exist, that "there is no such thing as a chemical imbalance" (Matt Lauer interview). If I go off my medication, I will be dead in a week, entirely because I have a chemical imb

It was so nice to talk to my relatives today. My mom's been having a great time with them in Florida. They had an enormous rainstorm, dropping two inches of rain in a very short period of time. I call it "Noah's Ark Weather" because there's so much water it seems Noah might come by in his ark at any moment. I'm feeling much more alive and expressive today. I really think Abilify is not working (I did not take it last night and feel better this morning--more clear, cheerful, and alive).

Apparently, according to various "experts" and news media, we're overdue for both an influenza pandemic and major earthquake. Which will come first? Or will it be something like the Trade Center--something we never saw coming? How bad could it be?

or is is just my life; and everyone else is surfing through just fine?

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

"Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?" Langston Hughes, 1951.

His lawyer is filing a lawsuit against the book that reveals his alleged drug use. What could be a more clear indication of guilt? Sheesh.

probably Leed's Castle, England.

yeah, right. me at 5 months.

Left to Right: Aunt Carole, Uncle Al, Dad, me, Scott, Mom Christmas, 1991. Messancy, Belgium.

Cousins, not brothers, but they might as well be. My dad and his cousin Clark Smith. Two of the most wonderful men I know.

my dad and two cousins, Scott and Craig, in Messancy, Belgium, 1998.

We somehow also managed to be in New York City when George Harrison died. Here are flowers in his memory on John Lennon's memorial in Central Park.

Perhaps the most poignant picture I've ever taken. These are the people standing next to us, observing the spot where the Twin Towers had stood. This is only three months after 9/11.

Walnut Creek, September, 2003. Left to Right: me, Sandi, Jen, Amy, Danielle

Muffy and parakeet.

Deerfield Beach, FL, April 1998. Left to Right: Scott, Grandma, Craig, me, Eric

Monterey, California, 2005.

A skeptical Muffy, Christmas 1993. Here is a link to more semi-humiliated cats at the website "Stuff on My Cat."

Left to right: my dad, our cat Muffin (who was so important he got his very own seat at the table), me, and Tim, in our McCarty Ranch Drive house.

On the left are three of Ginna's friends from her semester in Rome. On the right are three of our Bedouin guides. We're in a tiny corner of the Sahara desert in Tunisia, and I'm not sure if I've ever been more miserable. We experienced a sand storm, which made it nearly impossible not to inhale sand, eat it in our food, get it in our eyes and ears and noses.

Images of the pond in the backyard of my aunt and uncle's home in Messancy, Belgium. They lived here for almost 13 years when my uncle's job was transferred to Luxembourg. Note that this is the Ardennes forest, where the Battle of the Bulge was fought during World War II. You can still see shell holes in the forest (they look like skiing mogules), and every now and then someone is killed by an unexploded shell. There are signs warning people to stay out of the forest. My mom tried to pay for some stamps at the local post office once, but the man wouldn't take her money. He said that he remembered when the Americans rescued them from German occupation, and that she didn't owe him anything!

Me at three months (note that my shirt says "I am woman").

Jaguar XKE, 1967

A photo from the wedding of my best childhood friend, Jennifer, to her dear husband, Alan. It was a freezing but beautiful day in La Jolla! I cried the whole way down the aisle. I was so embarrassed. But there was/is so much to cry about; it was impossible to hold back.

in order to tell my story in my words, as i perceive it-- in order to heal, and to make myself willing to be disliked by others, in order to remain true to myself, because that is more important than anything. love is not love which makes me feel kind of like i do now--i'm not going anywhere, though; i'm really sensitive to abusive signals, given where i come from. we'll see what the future brings. i'm so tired; i don't feel like driving all the way home, paying $3.00 for the bridge toll, and getting my dad's supper. would that i could lay my burdens down. enough already with holding the globe up by myself; i'm not atlas, though it feels like it sometimes.

this is getting ridiculous. he could not miss the mark any further more if he tried. i wasn't even alive during the Vietnam conflict, but I do think about it with regard to Iraq, lately. and, please see my post on my problems with anti-war demonstrators. more to follow.

what is up with the atrociously bad service these days? flight attendants are so rude, and brusque. when i was a kid, the stewardesses would let me hand out mints to the passengers on hawaii flights. we have a picture of me doing that. i was never sure if i should wake up sleeping passengers or not, to ask if they wanted a mint. they would give us playing cards, too, and give me my own "wings" pin because my mom had been a stewardess. the lavatories are just creepy. i will never get used to the way the toilets flush; it's so traumatizing and i'm never prepared for the loud noise and violence. and what's up with the blue water? when i look at myself in the mirror i usually look tired, with dark circles under my eyes and dehydrated skin from the dry, recycled air. i remember being really impressed by lufthansa airlines, but i don't remember why. tunis air was scary, but novel. the mediterranean sea looked so blue. aloha airlines is fun because it already

I will live in Southern California this summer. I am excited, and a little bit nervous. There is so much to do down there, even though it is very different from Northern California and I probably would not want to live there forever. I want to see a play at the Pasadena Playhouse, I already know where the yoga studios in Pasadena are. My friend Halie is nearby, my friend Dana is too, and probably other Pomona people. I know the freeways a little and remember Santa Monica and the Kodak theater, where I went to the opening of "Eyes Wide Shut." It was entirely too much fun. We got interviewed by the French media, and I almost missed my flight down there. I've never come that close to missing a flight in my life. I was almost ready to get out of the car on the freeway (we were stopped in traffic) and run to the terminal. I want to go to the Simon Wiesenthal Center (Holocaust museum? can't remember), and the Museum of Tolerance. all the stuff i wanted to do when

I have a funny story about traveling from Italy through Switzerland and Austria to Germany on my Eurail pass, which is entirely too much fun. You have to know a little bit about the stereotypes of these countries before you hear the story, though. There's the old joke that goes something like this, "Heaven is a place where the French are the cooks, the Italians are the lovers, the Germans organize everything, and the English are the police. Hell is a place where the Germans are the lovers, the Italians organize everything, the English are the cooks and the French are the police." So Italians are often seen as disorganized and unconcerned with order and the Germans are overly concerned with order and organization. I also exaggerate the story to make it funnier but the premise is the same.

Outside of Munich is the very first concentration camp built by Hitler. Its first prisoners were political opponents, and then expanded to include Jews, Communists, Catholics, Jehovah's Witnesses, gay people, the mentally ill and the physically deformed. Many nationalities were there, probably about 40, if memory serves. The museum had large signs with the names of each country who had prisoners there that you could walk through. The crematoria, or at least some of them, still stand, as do the gas chambers. The barracks have been razed, but the concrete foundations remain. One or two replicas have been built for the sake of the visitors. We were shown how the "beds" were essentially like shelves, with increasing numbers of prisoners practically stacked on top of each other as the war went on and the camp's population grew larger. The former kitchen and administrative buildings have been made into a museum, where the shoes of the victims are on display, along wit

staring at the backs of the heads of white-haired gentlemen, wondering how many had been Nazis. The opera was in Italian, and the program was in German, so I called my dad at intermission to figure out what the heck it was about. Don't remember the opera now, but the theater was gorgeous and ornate and elaborate like nothing I've seen here. Lots of gold.

I love that. It's from my doctor, from his father. I would love to feel that way someday. But there's so much I want to learn that it's impossible.

Paranoia is setting in (no, not THAT kind). Sometimes I feel like I'm being mocked but I can't always tell. Being in relationships warps me somehow and brings out my worst insecurities. It's like I'm transformed into someone else, and I don't mean in a good way. A month ago I was sitting in my room, blogging happily away, chatting at Founders and touching up my makeup in case I saw hfg in the dining hall, telling jokes with my friends and writing funny stuff on my blog. Now I worry about what others think of me and question my every move and statement and feel a little immobilized and paranoid. I constantly worry about losing others' affections, and I mean this is true even for people I don't know very well. I feel inferior to people whose lives have the appearance of being much more together than mine. Heck, to anyone who has a life. I don't like feeling indebted and hope to avoid feeling obliged somehow this summer. It's time to reconcile w

"It is nobler to declare oneself wrong than to insist on being right--especially when one is right." Friedrich Nietzsche, "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" [Also sprach Zarathustra]

things are changing so rapidly, i don't feel the earth beneath my feet. i am out of breath and a little behind, yet on the crest of a wave.

my need to feel superior my feelings of inferiority my tendency to dominate the conversation, or else be dominated, with nothing to say, not even good listening skills my tendency to interrupt and talk too fast the way i sometimes put others down even though i don't like myself for doing so. i'm afraid to share space with others; afraid to be on the same plane (geometry, folks, not aviation). well, there certainly are people i would not wish to share a plane with, but that's another story. the guy who's always coming up the aisle with the big garment bag, for example, while i'm trying to find my seat, and everybody else is putting their stuff in the overhead compartments so their elbows are sticking every which way. my need to feel in control and in charge jealousy shame self-doubt my need to impress others and put on a show my self-aggrandizement and intellectual arrogance and intolerance my inability or refusal to see others' points of view my hostility tow

sometimes i am a factory of insecurities, mass-producing them on long assembly lines. or maybe my insecurities are cancer cells that never stop dividing. they're kind of like "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," in that they never stop. I keep hoping I'll run out, but that hasn't happened yet. they expand exponentially, not geometrically, like a chain reaction.

much too much and way too soon. i've been had, and i saw it coming, too--refer to above post about telling the truth.

Wow. I can't believe how things may actually be coming full circle. It's things like this that help me to begin to believe again. Sometimes the cold grip of fear around my heart loosens a little; today is one of those days.

but that's not a way out, or a way through.

it's funny how they still call these things wars, when they are not, in the traditional sense. I guess World War II was the last time Congress officially declared war on another country, and the Department of Defense became the Department of War. I don't know; maybe it started with Korea, where we were not at war against Korea, I don't think; but we were trying to "help" a segment of the population or government against a threat? With Vietnam, that was the case. We were no longer fighting countries, we were facing non-state entities, in this case, the North Vietnamese Army. We saw them as a Communist threat, and I guess Kissinger or someone felt it must be contained. Johnson I think said something about that. Then we had little conflicts like Nicaragua and Panama that I don't know much about, that certainly were not official wars because much of the action was conducted secretly, I believe. More like a "military operation" than a war. I wonder if

i'm sick of this sh*t. i'm going to put some pictures up here of me healthy with the hair i used to have. my stupid medications have made my hair fall out for years. it's getting thinner and thinner and still coming out in handfuls. what the f*ck am i supposed to do about this? f*ck everything.

yeah, i just forgot what i meant to put here. oh-- watching other people grow and make mistakes and learn from them and realize stuff for themselves and letting them stay or leave as they choose, even knowing people are about to trip and fall but allowing them to do so so they can learn. that's the name of the game for me. in al-anon, i watched as other people allowed me to do this. i knew i was making mistakes or barking up the wrong tree sometimes, and i knew that they knew. nevertheless, i simply had to bark up those trees and go down those dark roads to learn what i needed to learn to be here. and i'm grateful they allowed me the dignity and the space to do so. they were always there when i went back for more healing and guidance and answers. i carry that with me and i know that i must allow others the dignity to make their own mistakes, fall flat on their faces, if need be, and get up again. funny thing is, sometimes i can see where they're headed and sometimes i

books by Iyanla Vanzant helped, as well as one about verbal abuse. it was hard to find books that were not about physical abuse, but i found one, and it helped me so much. it shed light on what i was going through and i realized that i wasn't crazy, that it was an actual syndrome, and that it happens to other people. i learned about controlling behaviors, and the insidious nature of emotional and psychological abuse, and how it creeps up on you until it's too late. i learned about the dr. jekyl and mr. hyde syndrome, which i've experienced since i was born. sometimes it's so embedded in my relationships that i know something is wrong but i can't see it for what it is--kind of like when you try to read a book when it's too close to your eyes. people always wonder why battered spouses don't simply leave. it's never that simple. quite often they've been brainwashed into believing it's all their fault, and if they would just try harder next ti

They do not know what they are talking about and they influence policy way too much, based on ignorance. It's one thing to oppose foreign policy, and to show that, but the truth is that the folks in the government really do know more about the threat than any of us ever could. It's fine to want to leave Iraq immediately, but that simply is not practical and could make things worse (though that's difficult to imagine). It's like there's a blur between what people want and what is pragmatically a good idea and prudent judgment. Why does this interest me?

I feel challenged in ways I've never felt before, and will need all of the resources I can find to prepare. What's so exciting to me is that other people's healing is also about my own. I just want to be present, and show all the humanity I possibly can, and provide a space for healing and hope and safety.

tonight's topic is "trusting my instincts." when i was with tim, and i had a thought or feeling and i checked it out with him, somehow, i was always wrong. i stopped trusting my instincts. in hindsight, i was right about just about everything. doubting myself and my instincts drives me crazy, and, when i read about verbal abuse, i learned that that is one of the hallmark symptoms of an abusive relationship. it is slow and insidious, but once you've stopped trusting yourself and begun trusting your abuser instead, things can go downhill quickly. that confused feeling always tells me that something is wrong; if i ask for clarification and don't get any, it usually means the other person is deliberately manipulative or honestly unclear about what's going on either. i've often been right about a lot of stuff. but also, i bring my damage to the table and it can cloud my lens. for example, i have this need to be right that comes from emotional damage of

this is actually the title of a book, but I like it, too, because it feels relevant. not sure what to write here yet. i think so much more clearly at night, but i don't trust it entirely because i'm on less seroquel. let's see what the abilify does, if anything, on monday night. I am illuminated. Being on less seroquel helps me cry. My doctor explained the biochemical process behind that, so i'm not just imagining it. I hate that goddamned medication. good night, good night, a thousand times good night!

my dad gets one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of vanilla, and i get mint chocolate chip. he can never find his wallet, and i can never find my car keys. neither of us ever knows what day it is. we both leave cabinet doors open, and my mom says we put our pants on the same way. our shoes wear thin in the same areas. we have the same ridiculously long legs and short torsos. getting out of small cars feels more like unfolding than standing up, and our knees crack and our hips turn out the same way. sitting at booths in restaurants makes us look like we're sitting in holes. our heels are too narrow for our shoes, and we have long toes and fingers, and the same weird crook in our right eyebrows. we rest our hands on our faces the same way, put our hands on our hips for pictures, and walk with our hands in our pockets, too. we both clear our throats and dislike pickles. we make the same spelling errors. we have the same sense of humor. we both love history, and to talk about

sometimes i try to make others feel badly about themselves even though i don't want to. i love the philosophy at RTS, where they believe that whatever trauma we haven't processed we pass along to others. so if i make someone feel badly, it means that i was made to feel that way at some point in my life and i'm passing it on. that's exactly right for me, and i hate it. so however my mom makes me feel, she was made to feel at some point in her life and she's passing it on to me because she hasn't processed it. my doctor thinks he can just tell me to stop doing it, but i know that i have to figure out where it's coming from and unplug it from its source. my theory is that he's a really sensitive guy, so he has a tough exterior, and when i show vulnerability, sometimes his defenses pounce on it because he feels threatened. i love him, but it's hard to do tough emotional work sometimes. more memories--when i was a kid, my dad and i would go driving

i really wish i was at school.at christmas was happy to be back home, but now i realize that my life is at school. it's hard at home; my dad isn't doing too well, my parents' marriage is as bad as ever, my mom tries to put me in the middle and saddle me with burdens that are not mine. but i love my dad and we got to spend some rare quality time together. will i ever get to be a kid? of course, i already am. i love this kitty so much, i wishcould take her home with me. she's jumping all around and sitting on me and my dad and sniffing him and trying to sit on my shoulder. i really need a cat in my life. i feel off balance not being at school. housesitting is hard, too, though i appreciate the money, because i'm in two or three places at once and taking care of my dad and the animals and house. i guess i'm not used to responsibility; my mom took care of so much while i was sick and now i'm learning how to do it on my own. i'm breathing a bit easier

i want to go to creative writing on tuesday, but i'm having lunch with a friend, at my favorite sushi place, which i'm really looking forward to. there's time to do both. the kitty just jumped on to the keyboard but he didn't type anything4444444444e. nevermind. he just did. our old cat made a phone call once. he stepped on my cell phone and it dialed an automatic number. it was really cool. he used to stand on my head and purr in my ear when i was sleeping. it sounded like a bumble bee, and then his little wet nose and whiskers, and a furry little face on my nose would follow.

it's so nice. and it's just me and the animals. i love it. i thrive on time to myself. i just love this little kitty with blue eyes who loves to be picked up. she's so trusting; she just flops around however i hold her; i can nuzzle her and snuffle (special diana cat thing) her. i'm feeling a little off, actually; sad about the fact that everybody else seems to be married but me. i don't intend to feel sorry for myself but i do have to get through all of this hurt and pain, and very often it feels like that's not possible; or it'll kill me if the illness doesn't first. no one really knows what it's been like. Dr* kind of does, but there was always a limit to how much he could help me. there's always been a limit to how much i can be helped. i no longer believe that god threw me to the wolves; well, i almost never believe that anymore, but that's a far cry from what i used to believe about the world. i don't think i'm ang

Evidence for Universe Expansion Found By MATT CRENSON, AP National Writer Physicists announced Thursday that they now have the smoking gun that shows the universe went through extremely rapid expansion in the moments after the big bang, growing from the size of a marble to a volume larger than all of observable space in less than a trillion-trillionth of a second. The discovery — which involves an analysis of variations in the brightness of microwave radiation — is the first direct evidence to support the two-decade-old theory that the universe went through what is called inflation. It also helps explain how matter eventually clumped together into planets, stars and galaxies in a universe that began as a remarkably smooth, superhot soup. "It's giving us our first clues about how inflation took place," said Michael Turner, assistant director for mathematics and physical sciences at the National Science Foundation. "This is absolutely amazing." Brian Greene, a Col

I can't believe that Bush has the nerve to continue to insist that all is going well in Iraq and, at the same time, to launch this major offensive against insurgent strongholds. Things are obviously not going well if we're launching the biggest incentive since 2003. If things were going well, we'd be leaving. I also can't stand to listen to Scott McClellan lie through his teeth to the press corps about what's going on. Congress just approved--what is it, $90 billion?--for the war. Unbelievable. Public schools are falling apart, street crime is rampant (in Oakland, we hear sirens and gunfire around the clock), people can't afford health insurance, Medicare is on the edge, and Bush is pouring money into another country that seems to be headed into civil war regardless of what we do or don't do. What a legacy. Bush trumpeted democracy and freedom from the beginning with his stupid Iraq propaganda and our legacy will be creating a civil war and leaving. I

complicit in my own sadness. i wish to embed myself inside someone else and take shelter there for awhile, to allow myself to be taken care of, to hibernate and to drift and to dream until i am well. to feel loved and to be loved with no caveats, for once. i am ever and always incomplete. unrequited love is one thing, but never having loved is quite another. i feel like i disappoint people a lot, like i build up expectations in them that i cannot maintain; a false self, as if my current one weren't good enough. i am already drunk; my heart won't stop pounding. i am alice in wonderland; i recognize nothing, everything is new. i believe in making mistakes and learning from them, and I believe that we have to allow others do the same. it is so precious to me to live in the community of women I do and I'm so sad that it will end in May. we will probably have a similar living arrangement next semester, though it all seems so temporary and fragmented.

and i feel like an idiot. it's never enough, and i am always unseen. i wanted a night to myself tonight, to listen to music, get comfortable, and work on my blog; i need to get centered. i feel easily de-centered and i do not like it. i feel vulnerable today. bouleversed. i do not like myself. "the songbirds keep singing like they know the score." i have been bouleversed. I wish to be found, and carried. Lifted. Won over. Held. Cared for. Entitled, entangled; entanglement. Inseparable. Oblivious to day or night, or to any universe but mine, and ours. an opiate cloud of bliss. i am always and ever alone. i am ready not to be. words are my divinity, or is that too corny? Brian taught me that (well, what I said at his funeral) I am findable, and I am being found. I loved him so much and fed off his love. I am freezing cold without it. The world felt different the day he died, like the sun had been extinguished and the earth would grow infinitely cold. his l

Time may be relative, but in my world (when I have one) it is linear and irreversible. Did you know that Einstein understood the principle of relativity before he had the math (or physical evidence) to prove it? Pretty smart bloke, mensch, that one. ego is a problem for me. mine, not other people's.

I'm having a very existential day. It began with Simone de Beauvoir's memoirs in class this morning, and ended with watching "Love Actually." I've been in an introspective funk ever since. I miss dancing so much that I cannot articulate it. Some music makes me want to dance so much that I have to practically restrain myself. This happens often, and it's always been like this. I recall ballroom dancing in my head, and imagine I'm performing ballet on stage, too. I miss it all terribly. I guess I could go dancing next week when I'm home; I just feel like I've outgrown Starlite Ballroom. I don't ever want to dance with another clueless, sweaty beginner, unless it's a friend I'm teaching. I'd rather spend time in San Francisco, but there aren't tons of places for ballroom dancing there. I've never found anyone with whom to fall headlong in love--into whom to fall headlong in love. Ever. I see characters in movies or on

Je cherche mais je ne trouve pas; pas encore. A quoi est-ce que je cherche? Pour quoi cherche-je? S'il vous plaît, corrigez-moi si (quand) je fais une faute.

I'm not talking about sitting next to the brownies in Bridget's room, though that is problematic. I lack the ability to be myself around men I find attractive and I don't know why. It can't just be nervousness; it impedes my getting to know people. It feels deeper than nervousness. There's a quote from "The Libertine" about searching ourselves and removing our weaknesses. It wasn't said in those terms, but it fascinated me. The libertine's mom was worried about how depraved and debaucherous he was, and insisted that "good Christians" seek out their evils and tear them out. The libertine's response was to tell his mother that she should look deeper within herself to find her flaws; rather than referring to his own. There was a Hamlet-esque moment in which Depp's character pretended to begin to kiss his mother on the lips, but instead said something cruel.

hi everyone, i hate brutal honesty, but without it i won't move forward. i'm glad people are reading my blog, but not at moments like these. i tend to make my life smaller when i'm interested in someone; perhaps because i need so desperately to fill that (w)hole inside. i have this makeup lesson in palo alto i can't decide to cancel or not. i feel like a lump; i just want to stay in my room and space out; which disturbs me, since i can't tell if i'm depressed or not, and if i am, whether it's the medication or real life. i really hate the seroquel and am trying to get away with 175mg, but maybe i'll experiment with taking 200mg tonight. i'm seeing the doctor on friday, which is good. meanwhile, i'm not applying for internships, even though i feel like i should be. the truth is, that without an income, i can't afford to live on my own, and most internships don't pay very much. i chose to get some sleep last night, rather than finish

i found the courage to introduce myself to hfg at lunch today, except he's not french, he's italian. i don't understand how to pronounce his name--i'd never heard it before and don't recognize it. he was very cool and reserved. i talked too fast and was kind of flustered. oh well. now the ball is in his court. he does have those eyes that look as if he knows what i look like undressed, though; like he's massaging me with his eyes. how can those italian girls stand to have men walking around like that all the time? so charismatic. love it. hot stuff. "He looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy." (Scarlett O'Hara, in reference to meeting Rhett Butler)

no, this isn't about wisdom teeth at all. it's about something even more painful--writing a french paper. i plan to document this difficult process in the hopes it will help me get through the process without staying up all night, which i really don't want to do--in fact, i'd almost consider turning it in late to avoid that. hfg drama continues, but the tension seems to have been deflated. not sure what to do next. i'm listening to npr, which is interesting, but i SHOULD turn it off so i can write. i want to hear the news for today, though, so for now, it's staying on. i've written most of the paper in english, but i still need to translate and my thesis isn't solidified yet. i'll also mention some of the random thoughts i have going through my mind in the hopes they will cease and desist once expressed here in cyberspace. i want to see my friends, tonight, too, since i get lonely all alone in my room. we study together a lot and it usually wor