Fun!
08-20-06 | 17:49
Uhh, an update:
I think I was molested by my massage therapist at a swanky day resort in midtown on Saturday and I broke up with PB today.
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Tear
08-17-06 | 22:49
I am so tired, but I can't sleep. I have ghosts running through my head. I keep thinking about Alumni, my small dorm first year of college. I shared a suite with a senior who kept me up nights with her constant get -together's in the kitchen. We each had a separate bedroom and shared a kitchen and a bathroom. My mind keeps flashing to those times and it is excruciating. I think about the purple FredFlare polka dots I hung over my window and the side table I bought from KMart and the liquid blush stain on the carpet when I split my blush everywhere because I was high or something, I remember the ramen noodles and the nachos from the 24 hour restaurant across the street, I remember the vodka and my sippy cup with the bear on it. I remember the ashtrays I bought for my dorm, one by my desk and one by the bedside table. I remember the round cigarette butt removers that I loved and use to make sure my smoke was put out completely lest I start a fire. I remember typing papers on my laptop. I remember the joy and freedom of finally having my own computer and email address and ashtrays, the joy in the ability to smoke cigarettes in my living space and not hanging out the window with a can of lysol at my side. I remember walking west on Ninth Street with Rae to Bladucci's and eating McIntosh apples in October. I remember the sweet freedom of walking to class every day and then being home and eating from Second Avenue Deli and watching Passions when it first came out. I remember discovering the Magnetic Fields and falling utterly in love with them. I remember writing the lryics of "It's A Crime" on my wall (It's a crime to fall in love) and I remember playing Alice on my computer when it first came out and reading Dangerous Angels for the first time and being enchanted. I remember the feeling of freedom, and the fucking funniest thing is that now - at nearly twenty-five in my 1929 one bedroom corner West Village apartment - I do not feel free, I feel anything but, I felt freer in my studio on Christopher milling about and buying flowers and going shopping.
I've called out of work almost every day this week - and why? Because I am punishing myself? I thought I would be happy when my new desk arrived, or when my credenza arrived, and my mother and I bought our fall shoes at Manolo last week and I just feel burdened. And I'll state the obvious and say - oh poor little rich girl but I've never felt this way, is this what true responsibility feels like? Heavy and scary and unforgettable?
I keep thinking back to easier times, but I also remember being truly lonely in Alumni and one night in particular, it was January and school was out for the winter but the dorms remained open so I stayed in the city and it was snowing all night and I couldn't sleep at all. I perched on the windowsill smoking cigarette after cigarette listening to this group of people ten stories below me hang out in the snow for what seemed like hours. I don't remember what I was feeling but I remember not being able to sleep. There were times when I sat on the floor in the dark and rocking myself back and forth because I was so upset, but now? I feel like I have no more chances, I have to continue to work at this place for two more years, and then maybe go back to school full time? You know why I went back to school in 2004? I think mainly to catch whatever fantasy I was chasing about leaving in the first place.
Now I have my own computer, and desk, and bed and hangers and closet, and nightgowns and robes and pillows and towels and detergent and I feel heavy and lonely. I had all these things in Christopher Street, but I didn't feel this way, I almost feel like because I never truly got to know myself living alone I am starting all over again. Is that why it is so scary? Or is it so scary because of my position? Because I work in the same place as she? Because she is the Queen and I am the Princess and I am expected to be just as good as she?
I think I am punishing myself, making it harder on myself for I don't yet know.
When I lived on Christopher Street it was a joy to walk down the windy streets alone and now it scares me.
Sometimes I dream about living in a different city. Like Boston or San francisco. Like I could do it better there, or like I'd make friends there where I know no one and nothing, stupid I know but when I was little I used to fantasize about doing that, about being this woman who moves to a different city because it suits her or something, I've not given this thought other than the visuals of me slightly conservative and older in my mind so it is hard to describe this dream of mine. PB is coming over because it is so hard for me to be alone. I am breaking out due to stress and it totally sucks.
I can'[t get the thoughts out of my head, I feel like I am not making any new memories. Every street I walk down has a memory waiting for me and makes me miss the past all the more, but what am I doing now? But times goes on, which is so weird., but it does. At the start of the summer I was given this seasons tickets to a sports event from May to August and I remember looking at the tickets and thinking 'August, how will I ever get to that?" But August came, or I go to it whichever way I care to view it.
The smell of cigarettes wafting in from the street through my open window reminds me of the past, walking down my street to go inside my building makes me think of the past when I wasn't sure of my way around these streets and I walked in front of my apartment without ever noticing it, and that takes me back to when I was just a teenager and we all hung around this village diner unbeknownst to me that in my first year of college I would be mugged right down the street from my first apartment and in two years time from that halloween mugging be living there.
I don't want to remember this August as missing my past. I spent last August recovering from surgery, and I missed the past then too.
My frequent longing for my ex-boyfriend is really just a longing for the simpler times of my life. But it really wasn't simple then, it was easier in a way - again - is this what growing up is? Because it is fucking heartbreaking.
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title
08-14-06 | 22:38
I want to write, but nothing is coming up. No feeling, no need or true desire to write an entry but I am making myself write just to keep my hand in so to speak, to make it easier to write next time I guess.
sighI've lived here for almost two years and have just started
really living here two weeks ago. A few months after PB and I moved in I noticed many boxes, piled to the ceiling filling the whole room in the window across the street. As the months went along I noticed that living right across the street from me was a woman, presumably single living alone. I have a perfect view of her living room from my expansive kitchen window. Over time I noticed her flat screen television being delivered, the disgusting orange she chose to paint one wall in her living room and the fake tulips she has in a vase on the side table in front of said orange wall. Through dinner in the kitchen with PB and washing dishes after I noticed her mini parties, or the people she would bring over to have cocktails with, and lately I assumed her family came to visit because of the presence of an elderly woman and a little girl. And of course throughout all of this I was envious of her, because of her solicitude. What I noticed most was when she would have food delivered and eat it at her table whilst reading the paper, or maybe work or something. I don't spend more then a minute, just a glance if I happen to be throwing something in the trash, or washing the dishes but over a year and a half I've began to assume things about the woman across the street as shown in my ramblings above. And now I have what she has, or what I think she has - we are both woman living alone. But I feel like I've missed a step, gotten something wrong because while she hosts seemingly fun cocktail parties here I am taking long steamy baths and reading Edith Wharton, and that would be perfect if it wasn't for the fact that sometimes I wish I had fun cocktail parties to host. I've a very small number of friends, and in that number they are not friends who interact with each other, nor are they friends whose schedules would allow for a group get-together. My close friend is so flakey it drives me up the wall most of them time. She is only in town a month and she has called me once. OK, OK - I'm going to stop this before it becomes a pity party, it is just that I don't quite know why I don't have more friends, why I don't have a solid social circle with people in my peer group? And because of this I am lonely, and maybe that is why I starting doing dope in the first place. I started after living alone for only a month and a half. Moved in August first - started September thirteenth. And when I stopped I was entwined with PB and we just got closer from there and then he moved in and now I am here. I only ever lived alone sober for six months and not all at once, but in bits and pieces. I did dope at a time when I was able to, I didn't have the responsibility and expectations that I deal with now on a daily basis. It has no place in my life right now, but sometimes I wish it did. I still don't know why I used it. Honestly at first it was purely because I could and it was fun. But then it became every day and before work and before I went out and I felt so strong and so sure about myself, and so much fun - I felt that I was a blast to be around, and the sick part is that I was a blast to be around. I've never been more social in my life than during that nine month period. I also became
really close with people here on Diaryland, people that I am not even in touch with anymore, and that makes me sad in a way.
Now I am just me, plain old me.
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Always Been Like This
08-12-06 | 14:05
Writing entries in Word again, feels more formal that way I suppose. So yes, life without a roommate is blissful, truly it is. My DWR Credenza arrived this week and with it I expelled all of my old furniture, funny how furniture I was so gaga over four years ago is now sitting in the apartment PB is living. I also bought a new desk from Pottery B@rn; I am too lazy to link. I am getting my period and with that come feelings of lethargy, grossness and general indifference. It would be blissful to watch television right now and zone out, but no this morning Esther came over and did my nails, and after some tidying up I met PB before he had to go to work and then went over to my favorite juice place and got a new mixed green juice (kale, collard greens, swiss chard) small bunch of cilantro, pineapple and lime, kick-start myself into being slightly less lethargic. It is actually quite good, and I feel good that I didn�t just go to the grocery and buy junk food and go home and eat. I have yoga later, and I was going to do cardio work before, but I haven�t the energy, I don�t even want to go shopping. It is lethargy tinted with loneliness.
I am taking PB to San Francisco on vacation with me this November. Five days should be nice. I've never traveled much. I went to Venice, Rome and Athens with my family when I was sixteen, and lived with my brother in Amsterdam for three months when I was seventeen, went to the Bahamas and of course various states throughout my childhood existence, but only ever been on an adult vacation before and that was to New Orleans when I was twenty. So this feels like my first vacation. I wanted to go to Nice, or Cannes but I just cannot afford it. Whoo hoo! San Francisco.
Loneliness � nope, I don�t feel like approaching the topic this blissfully sunny and perfect Saturday afternoon. I wish I had more friends. Isn�t that just so pathetic?
One hour before yoga, I�ll finish my juice and watch television.
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08-06-06 | 22:16
"I really hate when I do this - when I just sit in a stupor smoking cigarette after cigarette staring off into space, living in the past. I do this far too often, I'll read my old entries; I'll listen to songs that marked a certain passage in my life. I'll miss something I can never get back. And for why? My life is pretty good right now. The thing I miss is the innocence. We were all so fresh faced and young, well that doesn't make sense, we weren't innocent by a long shot - but we were young, we were not as roughed up as we are now, and the main reason is - we didn't have as much responsibility on us. I just sit and dream. And would you like to know the fucking funniest thing of it? When I was an eight year old little girl I used to dream of living on my own in the city, and going out and having a fab time and being OK by myself, and the other day I realized - I am doing just that. "
That was from October of 2002, and you know what? I am doing just that again, crying because of something I feel I never really had and will never get back, and wanting dope more than I have in years. The feeling is so strong, this is so hard.
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