Boring
01-20-10 | 20:52

After yet another fitful night of sleep that ended with me moving to the sofa I managed to wake up on time and rebound. After that I went to a medi-spa and had a massage, then I came home and had a yoga session, then I drank some green juice (all green with pineapple, hold the cucumber), had a zucchini and ricotta sandwich with sliced red onion, then I had one of the most relaxing baths ever. Pure rose otto oil, and I luxuriated in the steam and just breathed deeply, then I put on my Chantecaille detox mask with rosemary and honey. Chantecaille products are so amazing and pure. I actually tasted the honey as a bit of the mask ended up on my lower lip.
I have a money meeting with my pimp tomorrow.
PB has a job interview! I am so thrilled, the hours and the salary seem right for him, even though he is thoroughly over qualified for the position.
I have some reading to do for my class.
I haven't shopped!

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Till The Bitter End
01-12-10 | 21:33

PB went off to play with his friends for the evening. I have the apartment to myself for the night and I love it. I lit some candles, put on some Luciano Pavarotti, some music from Carmen and trotted about the apartment watching shows in iTunes. I took a bubble bath and now I'm sitting here at my desk drinking a cu-tini, frothy ice cold cucumber juice with some agave, sake, and grapefruit juice, enjoyed in a martini glass with a cucumber slice for garnish. I love the frothy sweetness of the cucumber and the grapefruit juice falls to the bottom because it is heavier so as I drink the taste changes to a bright tartness. Not to mention the wonderful sake, I hardly drink anymore, so one drink in and I am feeling fine.
Today was slightly less rough. I escaped my honesty for artifice and feel a little better, hence the ability to trot round the apartment whilst drinking cocktails.
I escape the brutal honesty maybe because it was too much for one day? But am I truly satisfied? I mean would I be satisfied if I got a job, gave up my free time, moved to a small apartment with PB? Have I gotten so use to my pimp (see entry below)? That I rather comfort over autonomy?
I just finished reading The Forbidden Apple by Kat Long. The book is about the culture of sex in Manhattan, from right after the civil war to the present. It was illuminating. I never knew the specific details of the revolutionary stonewall riots, even though I lived down the block from 53 Christopher Street for many years. I also never knew that the AIDS crisis in the early 1908s was handled so poorly here in New York. A blind eye was turned while people died. Now I know that "when all else fails, sex prevails." Sex always sells no matter what.
Why do I get my sense of self-worth from purchasing? Buying perfume, or jeans, or bath oil? Why is it always black and white with me?

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If You Don't Cry
01-10-10 | 23:27

My sense of security has been taken away from me by my pimp, aka my mother. I am the saddest creature. So pitiful. Living in an apartment with "deadbeat" boyfriend spending my time doing yoga and shopping and totally and utterly dependent on my mother.
It's no use to dredge up the hows and whys of the past. What will be of use is to change the relationship with my parents, specifically my mother. PB suggested this and even though I don't want to, I must agree with him.
I got the urge to write an entry while I was in the bath this evening. Sitting in the lukewarm mildly soapy water, going over my day in my head, recalling the crying, the yelling, the hurt, I started to scratch at my skin. I glibly smiled at the recollection of the last time I sat in the bath and hurt myself: Soaking in a bath after a dope fueled day, trying to soak out the stress and numbness I ended up making scars on my feet and legs.
That was so many years ago.
But back to my sense of security - my unlimited charge card. Every charge I make whittles down the remaining funds available for this month. I am fearful to go buy groceries, I am scared to take a taxi because if my charge card is declined then I have nothing.
And the worst of it is that I am most upset about this restriction and not the fact that I am financially dependent on my mother after almost thirty years.
I am such a spoiled child.
Before I started writing I looked up a random entry of mine and came across the most fitting of them all. From December 1, 2006. I describe how I am the worst version of myself and how I predicted it all along. four years later and I am still living the same standard. The standard being one of indulgence, apathy, selfishness.
Today was a terrible day.
I fear I'm beginning my descent back into depression. It's good to be home.

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05-05-12 - Smooches!
11-09-11 - On a lighter note...
10-01-11 - You, you, you, you, you
09-29-11 - Candy Apples
01-09-11 - Echo fell in love with Narcissus