we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

20 October 2001

Okay.

So I get a phone call from Dad this morning. "What time are you leaving?" he says. (Meaning L.A.)

"What do you mean! You're in the hospital! I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh good, then go to Barry's wedding, they'll want you there. You've known Barry forever."

"Dammit, Sean is never being put in charge. Ever. He made it sound horrible last night. I knew all it was was that you needed was some food in you."

"I wouldn't've made it through the weekend, but I would be here either way."

"I know. Sean just makes it sound like the end of the world."

"Go to Barry's wedding."

"All right."

.the girl who is not very 11:23 AM [+].

Dad's back in the hospital. No L.A. for me. The pause button's pushed again.

Maybe a show tomorrow night, barring anything major going down. It starts later in the evening, so I'll be able to make it. Plus I was hyped a little surprise, so I'm almost obligated.

Goddammit. I find a cool person to date, and my father's health declines. I fucking hate this.

.the girl who is not very 3:22 AM [+].

19 October 2001

I don't have it on my mp3 player (yet), but I have this Ani DiFranco lyric running though my head: "You know my thighs have been involved in many accidents/And now I can't get insured and I don't need to be lured by you/My cunt is built like a wound that won't heal/And now you don't have to ask 'cause you know how I feel."

I'm not sure why. I don't mean to be thinking of in in a degrading way towards the... er. Sort of accident I had last night. No. It was a good accident. On a car even. Not mine, though.

There was something else I wanted to write about. I can't remember now. L.A. this weekend, though I'm not going to stay the extra day I'd planned since Dad's carouselling through different doctor's offices lately.

Plus I feel bad. I mean, the other half of my happy accident has a show Saturday night. I mean, unless the wedding goes really fast (for example, it starts at 4:30 in the afternoon and it's over by, say, oh, 6, which is highly unlikely) I could be back home by 10 and could catch the tail end of things...

Like I said, highly unlikely. And then David Gray comes in. "Let go your heart/Let go your head/And feel it now."

That sounds about right. As I was telling Chaz earlier this evening, I'm just letting things happen. And things are good.

.the girl who is not very 12:19 AM [+].

17 October 2001

Six hours of sleep is good.

I'm still sort of recovering from the karmic Tag Team of talking to two of my exes at the same time last night. I'm actually starting to wrap my head around them as people, finally. Somewhere, deep in my obvlivious head, she likes to think that I could be the only one. But I'm starting to realize that I'm harder to hang on to than anybody. I guess that makes me a true Gemini. What's good is that I'm still learning from these people, which means a lot more than some whispered fuck you under the breath in the bathroom after a good cry. Not that I haven't been there before, either. Being dumped just fucking sucks. It sucks even worse when it's twice by the same person, especially after awhile when you were wondering what you were doing with that person in the first place.

They all just turn out like that Bjšrk song, Possibly Maybe: "Maybe who knows what's going to happen? Lottery or car crash, or you'll join a cult."

This new one. Paranoia is falling by the wayside. This is good. It feels different. It's got Rival Schools playing the background.

.the girl who is not very 12:38 PM [+].

Morgan: sorry about that. I'm downloading DMV records, and I got booted off. (You just can't win with the DMV)
Me: ouch

(gets booted off)

Morgan: Note to self: Urinate on DMV building. ANY building.
Me: Yeah! Get some!

.the girl who is not very 1:56 AM [+].

This is my fate: If I'm dating someone, (or if someone dies), that means all the exes come out of the woodwork and start to confess stuff.

My most recent ex IM'ed me a few days ago, and we actually had a decent conversation about what exactly happened between us. I felt good after it, as if there was some kind of closure on the whole thing. We both admitted our faults with the breakup, why things just sort of fell away rather than just plain broke, what we both were feeling. And, honestly, I think the both of us want to have some kind of friendship, even if it's just occasional chatting online and the random lunch date.

I didn't have the heart to tell him, three months later, that I'm dating someone else. If we go out to lunch Thursday, I might. But it's like he has this whole self-deprecating way about him-- no, seriously, it's constant-- and he likes to bag on himself. Out loud. A lot. And not even in a joking way. I thought I was bad.

So right now I'm talking to another ex. He's in California. "I would even go as far as to tell you that I love you," he says, "but women seem to get scared when I say it, so I try not to." That pretty much highlights the other gadjillion reasons why I came back here. I fall in unrequited love at the beginning of my college experience, someone else falls in unrequited love with me at the end of it. Go team.

We all share our stories into open ears. We all try and make sense of the threads we've knotted together. Falling in and out of arms.

I've never been in a relationship where I've been able to say "I love you" and actually mean it. Mine have never lasted that long. I've never felt like that for someone. Ever. Cue David Gray tune here.

Actually, Matthew Good Band just came on the "chill" playlist. 51. Born to Kill. That is the driving album of the year. I'm taking it with me to L.A. Saturday.

The past couple of weeks've just been really reflective. Been thinking about these men in my life, and it's like invoking them, I suppose. I don't have to do spells anymore. Next thing you know the one I really fell for is going to drop some kind of bomb on me. No, don't jinx that. That would be bad. He's actually happy and all figured out. I'm not. Not that I can't give myself props for trying, however.

Got to see Cornerstone tonight, who I haven't seen since their DJ and drummer left early in the summer. That's the thing I'm noticing here-- as it gets cooler around here, shows start to pick up. I really don't understand that.

And berry PowerAde kisses are nice.

.the girl who is not very 1:34 AM [+].

16 October 2001

Okay, so one of my favorite songs of all time has to be Bob Marley's "No Woman No Cry"-- just because it just seems to apply to, well, bloody fucking everything.

Everything's gonna be all right, everything's gonna be all right...

My car is a good girl. Five years old, over 80,000 miles on it. Sometimes I call her the Green Machine. Today I pampered her with a nice washing and oil change. And she got a new air filter too. Then I made her smell pretty inside with a stick of sandalwood incense. She runs lovely now. Inside that car is a lot of memories-- moving memories, making out memories, road trip memories, dumb memories, music conversion memories, fun memories, a couple of dinged-up memories, crying memories. I'm gonna be so sad to see that car go. Even when everyone else seemed so far away, she offered me sanctuary. Now I'm all sad.

I'm going to be driving her from one side of town to the other, so I had to get her all (somewhat) fixed up today.

Still feeling. What's the word. Blah. I'm barely aware that I'm supposed to be going to L.A. Saturday morning. I have a show on Friday night. I don't even know if I'll be coming back Sunday or Monday. It would depend on what Matt wants to do. If we're going to go out or anything. I doubt it. I just want to see the beach again.

I haven't eaten a whole lot the past few weeks. Ever since Dad was in the hospital, I just haven't had an appetite. I think it's an associative thing because he hasn't been eating a whole lot either. And ever since he's been sick I've been fighing sinus infections and phlegm like mad. I'm trying to convince him to go to Sean's best friend Barry's wedding on Saturday since I'm not going. Sean unconsiously tried to make me feel bad for not going today, but he understands, I think. He wants to get out of town so badly himself.

All these people getting married lately. Better them than me, I suppose.

.the girl who is not very 6:00 PM [+].

Um. So I've always said that boys are poo-poo heads. Well, they are. It just depends on what you mean by poo-poo: either poo-poo as in you act like an asshole; or there's poo-poo as in you're a cute little poo-poo head, aren't you.

I know, that's way too academic for one in the morning. But when you get hugs and they're like being totally enveloped in warm fluffy pillows, it puts things in a different perspective.

Tomorrow I need to take care of my car: wash the poor thing, get the oil changed. And take my camera with me when I go see Kim doing a Madonna thing for Sam's Town at their talent show tomorrow night.

Then it's down to the Cooler Lounge for some warm and fluffies.

Ohgawd, I almost typed warm and falafel. I haven't had falafel in ages.

That's more than enough signage to tell me to go to bed.

.the girl who is not very 1:04 AM [+].

15 October 2001

Oh goodie. It actually looks more like it was supposed to now. Yay for me.

Jesus, it's already 4 o'clock.

.the girl who is not very 4:06 PM [+].

All right. So I'm trying this out on newly downloaded Netscape 6.1. I'm crossing my fingers.

.the girl who is not very 4:02 PM [+].

I totally had forgotten what I was going to write. Shnarf.

Started writing earlier this evening with some coffee, but ended up getting distracted. No, no, that's a good thing. That means things are starting to feel somewhat okay for once.

Been a long time since that's happened.

So. I have to admit this silly little thing. The title of this blog actually comes from the Pink Floyd song. You know, we're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fish bowl, year after year? Love that song. But right now I also like the song of the same title by Incubus. And I've got floor tickets for them next month, going with Mikey. We have a little deal going on: If I can get him to touch Tori on the 20th, he'll try and get me to touch Brandon Boyd on the 23rd.

Basically, if you came here looking for Incubus, sorry. Though if you're in the band, I'll gladly interview you when you come to town next month.

There's hoping for ya.

I plan on getting to Tori real early, so we can go to the Meet & Greet. Nootch.

Here we go.

Why get a dog and then do all your own barking? Why, indeed, do anything yourself when you can easily get someone else to do it for you? There are, of course, viable answers to both those questions. Maybe you can't get anyone else to do it as well as you can. Maybe you take such deep satisfaction in doing it that you'd miss out on a pleasure if you were to abdicate the responsibility. But er, not here! A certain person now seems keen to end something that you too, feel disenchanted with. Leave them to it and let them take the strain.

Beautiful night out tonight. Even got some CDs, recommended. Likin' 'em so far. I like it better when people recommend stuff to me and lend me CDs rather than spending ten hours in the WOW store or Virgin at the listening stations-- though that's nice on a random afternoon too. I actually like going to Virgin because it's at the Forum Shops in Caesar's, in the part of the building with all the Atlantean show-stuff. They've got this huge fishtank in there that makes me feel all relaxed when I walk in. One day I'll just go down there and take pictures. Lots of them. Actually I've always wanted to take band photos there-- no worries about anything but the hourly animatronic extravaganza, which might be cool to take pictures with too, I suppose. I find it quite pretty in there, even if it is a corporate whore's paradise.

One thing I always do is sort of bow to the huge statue of Athene they have in the casino entrance. It's a Goddess figure. Gotta respect that shit. I wouldn't be a good Pagan if I didn't.

Don't want to watch the TV news anymore. Anthrax is not that bad. If it really was, I think we'd all be pretty much quarrantined(?) in our respective cities by National Guards-men and -women by now. Probably.

Then again the FBI has been really fucking things up the past few weeks I wouldn't be surprised if I end up getting a powdery letter in the CityLife mail for doing a bad review or something. And I'd be sick. Again. After finally getting over a bad monthly hay fever. Dammit.

I'm not even in my pj's yet. This is sad.

But I got a very nice goodnight kiss this evening, so that makes up for everything.

Whoops.

.the girl who is not very 12:55 AM [+].

14 October 2001

I've noticed that AOL has horoscopes by Kelli Fox. I've also noticed that she's writing pertinent things, too. I think. I used to get emails from that site, but then when I read them they didn't apply to me at all. Lately, though, they've been closer to the mark than I'd like.

Different people have different needs. It's important for you to keep in mind who you're dealing with at all times, Gemini. Brisk, impersonal transactions are useless when there is a loved one involved. You may be eager to move forward, but the Universe demands a heavy toll these days. Understanding your limitations makes it a lot easier. Use the skills you have to do whatever you can, and leave the rest to fate. The Virgo Moon won't let you down.

.the girl who is not very 4:23 PM [+].

Robin Williams is on Inside the Actor's Studio. If I had just a smidgen more retention, I could've been as fast as he. I'm just not that random enough.

Or maybe I just not drawing connections like I should. I'm looking deeper into the symbols or something. That sounds completely silly in my head, reading that. And if it sounds silly in my head, I sure as hell ain't gonna say it out loud to myself. Fuck that.

I want to leave the house and get some coffee right now. But I shouldn't. It's barely 4 o'clock. But I feel like my bedroom, as homey as I've tried to make it, just is a vortex for creative persuits. I'm way too distracted here.

I should just. Go. Get outta here. Work. Good.

.the girl who is not very 4:08 PM [+].

I'm supposed to meeting some of the gang down at the Roadrunner, but I just couldn't go.

This whole week's been like that: I just don't want to hang out with anybody. I've got too much on my mind. And despite the fact that I wanted to get schnockered tonight, I just couldn't tonight. I'm tired enough as it is already.

The worst of it was today when I was making Dad pizzabread for dinner. Crakhed Girlfriend decided it would be nice bonding time since she didn't know how to make the stuff. I learned some more about her past drug use, which I really didn't want to hear considering how literally fucking clean I am: even second-hand pot smoke gives me migraines.

(Okay, I have to take this little aside to say something here. I surf around on different blogs while I type this. There are some people, and you can tell by the way they write, just need to be locked in a room with an English teacher and beaten with a Dictionary.)

I've been thinking about my exes a lot lately. In a way it's good because I'm starting to re-evaluate where I've been, and what I've learned. Like, for example, recognizing what makes me attracted to someone, and how I am with regards to really sharing myself with someone-- not just time.

But it's also very, very bad because that means I've brought up a lot of memories that I thought I'd shaken hands with. Memories of falling in love, seeing mistakes, being in relationships and wondering what that word love really meant. Paying attention to the fact that I tended to listen to suicidal love songs while I was in these relationships because they all reminded me of some part of the whole thing. It's terrible.

So I write. And so it goes. And so I'll post, and go to bed, and maybe have a cuddly dream again.

.the girl who is not very 12:05 AM [+].