Shangri-La

2004-11-11T14:00:00.000-08:00

I am addicted...
I watched Super Size Me the other night, I had to go rent it after all the buzz floating around at the health food store where I do my part-time gig. Unsuspecting me had to visit the movie website afterwards- where I found a fully playable and addictive Pac-Man style game where a little stylized Morgan Spurlock (director of the movie) runs around grabbing hamburgers and chasing after four fat, wobbling Ronald McDonalds.
As far as the movie is concerned: it was disgusting. And the Ugly Truth. Not that anyone ever has to worry about me gorging at McDonalds ever again, especially after watching the feature called "The Smoking Fry" in which McDonalds' fries (one of the only things I could eat there, anyhoo- since I have sworn off the tortured diseased nasty cow meat) NEVER decompose! But above all, one thing stood out to me above the rest.
Upon finding out that his liver is nearing failure, with only one week of the experiment remaining, Morgan calls his faithful girlfriend, a vegan chef (YAY for her!!). What a winner of a girl, she even put the time into planning a detox diet for his recovery. Nearing breakdown, she exclaims, "Morgan, I love you SO much! I don't want you to get hurt." "I know," he mutters. "Me either.... me either."
Grrrrr. What ever happened to "I love you, too."- ?? How typical- and there it is, another selfish display of self-concerned masculinity for the whole world to see.

2004-11-05T01:30:00.000-08:00

Uhggggg.
The horrors! I feel like I am innundated with things, big and small, beyond my control. I just want a little vacation, some yoga, some fresh air and no worries for a while. True, I could be doing yoga right now. But then I wouldn't be writing. Writing is the numero uno way I unwind.
Witness: Exhibit A. From the idyll of my long, hot shower I emerge, to discover boy kitty, Angus, chewing away at my toothpaste tube. Now, keep in mind, it is impossible for me to find a toothpaste that has not been force-fed to rats in some laboratory at the 24-hour grocery store around the corner. Cringe.

I leave the shattered peace of my bathroom and encounter the stack of books that composes Exhibit B. Ack! I have a humongous term paper to write, and I have no idea when I am going to get to it. It is due in about a month and I still have no idea what direction to take. I never procrastinate this long! OK, maybe sometimes.... but never without at least a main idea gelatinizing somewhere in my brain.

That brings us to Exhibit C. My worst habit, they leave me achy, drained, wheezy, but oddly relaxed and satisfied. They pile up in front of my computer, they smell up my apartment, my car, and my clothes, but I don't care enough. Sometimes I think. "What the hell am I doing?" Yet, I do it and do it again, costing me nearly $100 bucks a month and who knows how much suffering later. Eeegads! I need a spanking.

2004-11-03T13:04:00.000-08:00

The electoral map on the news reminds me of the term "Red Scare"- damn conservatives. Will I have four more years of insomnia? What about my rights as a woman, American, working class?
Definately working class, because that's all I ever do. Work. My parents may be middle class, but that has not secured my own future, for which I am deathly frightened.

My right to abortion saved my ass. Chance is my angel now, I know he would've been wonderful, but I have no home for him or money to take care of him. I feel like he knows that and his spirit stays here with me. He revealed himself so clearly to me in the three months I had him inside me, and I think about him every day. But I know he understands, all my love and my time and my nerves are spread so thin.
His father? Another X on the list. Stupid crushes, all they ever do is disappoint me. I hate crushing on someone. I have a crush right now, a smart guy, beautiful to behold. Every time I see him my heart falls rather than leaping, because I feel like him and every other guy like him is so far above what I deserve. I told Dain this, exclaming: "I don't want to make an ass of myself again!" Dain smiled: "You're not making an ass of yourself. He knows."
I don't fantasize about sex much. I fantasize about being held. Mundane things like grocery shopping and folding laundry together. Holding hands in the movie theater.
I had all that with the cheater. Until he started cheating.
I got a letter from Crate & Barrel today: "The stemware on your wedding registry is being discontinued, so you better get it soon!" HA. I was so distraught that my fiance was running off with some other girl, I forgot all about the damn stemware. It's so pretty, with little silver ribbons twirling around the base of the glass....
Why get married anyway? The only thing a ring is good for is to legitamize sex so a couple can have a family.
Utne magazine has an article this month about intimacy in relationships: it claims American couples these days are searching for "superrelationships": marriage based on intimacy and romanticized friendship, which is so highly elevated above the kind of relationships our grandparents and parents sought, which were based on the desire to create a family alone. So what does this mean: love did not exist until recently? The definition of love has changed? If the definition is able to change, does that make the concept itself a joke?
In some societies, men and women marry and have families, but both partners are allowed to have extra-marital relationships with other people. The institution of marriage is there to create an ordered sytem within which to give children a family, but love exists almost exclusively outside the family unit. How very strange. I remember reading that in an Anthropolgy class I took a couple of years ago.
Does this mean my desire to wear a princess dress and prance around in a rose garden while my friends and family watch myself and Prince Charming exchange baubles and smear cake all over each other's faces like clowns is a little overrated? Maybe even altogether asinine.

2004-11-02T01:13:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed work tonight because I didn't allow myself to worry about all the things I had to get done. Christina and I even took a photo op with the Starbucks sweetheart, Spike. We stayed an hour late to get the store sparkling for Dave, the DM, who is spending the day in the store tommorrow. I didn't think about the fact I had been working since 8:30 in the morning. It was forgivingly slow and we Saran-wrapped everything to keep it spotless through the night. I laugh so much when I am working with Christina. I am so tired though, and the tips of my fingers are cracked. I'm going to rub them down with some Burt's Bees hand salve and go to bed, praying that I wake up for the alarm in the morning. I have to go to class and find out how bad I failed my Sociology test. I hope for a day when I don't have to do this two job bullshit anymore. If only I hadn't let a boy get me in trouble... I know everything has a reason, but this one is beyond me. Isn't Spike just so cute? Don't you just want to poke him? Too bad he's just another evil womanizing boy.

2004-11-01T15:44:00.000-08:00

I wish I could spend some time connecting with the outside world, find peace with the faeries and elementals all around me. I am so hectic... I have cried every day this week. Just from fatigue, downright utter exhaustion. I have to content myself with the little pieces of nature I find in the middle of my concrete jungle. Like fall wild berries climbing up a power line and a window planter outside someone's apartment. My own apartment is nature-barren and I have no place or time for a garden (sadness).

I've been at work since 8:30 this morning. Now I am off to work at the coffee shop for the rest of the night.

2004-11-01T00:26:00.000-08:00

Samhain is gone.
It came and went rather uneventfully, but my emotions are still on a rollercoaster.
I rather regret not truly using the day to the fullest of its potential, which is becoming a rather nasty habit.
There are so many things from the previous year I need to cleanse and release. The cheater, the obsession, the pregnancy, the wasted time.
In my waking hours, I stay so occupied I am only tortured fleetingly, but when I lay down to sleep I feel like a thousand mad dogs are attempting to eat my heart out. Why, if my dreams hurt so much do I long for sleep?
This is me: a witch, a fortune teller, an artist, a student, a bleeding heart, a misunderstood soul, a born leader, a shy wallflower, a wicked woman, a healing touch, a sweet spirit.
Please someone, try to understand me, because I really am like all of you. I am different but I feel just the same. When was the last time someone really tried to visit the inside of my multi-faceted soul and love me for the beauty that I am?