4:41 p.m.||||2001-10-25
We shall see...this is bound to be terrible. As in an angry argument ,the need to throw a plate? I DID pay for the gold membership, so I got all these huge fucking photos.
I am not unhappy at the moment...I'm not even uneasy, or bored, not really, and I'm not sad.
J. turned 5 months old on the 19th, he rolled over several days later...he cannot turn back over and so that is a source of such frustration to him that he's spreading the wealth. If frustration were money I'd be fucking buyin myself a yacht right about now.
ya know what bothers me about myself, except that I used to be adorable and freshcheeked, and skinny as fuck, and unwrinkled (once a guy who had a crush on me told me with stars in his eyes that I had the most uncreased forehead he'd ever seen. I was 21 or 22 at the time. I remembered this to him 10 years later at the bookstore where I then worked, and where I ran into him, and he said "it's still smooth" and I replied "o.k., thanks" - make that sound like Lisa Kudrow's snappy delivery: close) and now I'm not so sure about any o that? - I am SOOOOO FLIPPANT. Why? What the hell is the matter with me, anyway?
I'm really a sap...spend hours reading ALL your updates, quietly marveling at the wonder if it all - the honor - I weep when I go into Hipmama frequently -when shit gets tense and our babies are at the heart of everything expressed there....but when I write - an entry, a short story, a prose-poem (esp. then!), I am ascerbic and short and I wonder if I come off as some kind of arrogant prickess.
I am so fucking randomly kind in my real life that you might say I have trouble with confrontation. Cannot say no, hide in my house for days instead...don't return phonecalls unless I know I am LOVED. Journaling has always been my way to don many hats....it's just weird tryin' to represent to the fucking public. (hey, I found a porn site on diaryland earlier, so I'm a lot less concerned about my language - and no I'm not passin that along, although, I DID save it - then I was, dig?)
So anyway, I am kind and tolerant and not so very vain in real life...I'm never able to give back what reading your journals gives to me. I swear, though, I hope to forge some real, honest to God friendships out of this whole thing or it will have not solved my original problem...isolation, lack of resources for finding cool, sexy, creative, wicked smart mamas like myself ANYWHERE IN MY LIFE!!!! Or wicked smart, creative people in general....it's not as if I want to limit myself - just more that if you're 18, you gotta be cool with the 30ish, baby raising set to like someone like me. And I'm tired of trying to brag about how great I used to be, how many lives I've lived so far, the aspirations I used to have, etc. This is it now. But my tendency for flippancy in the midst of this new reality makes me think I am possibly immature. It;s hard for someone who used to say "punk as fuck" on a regular basis to enjoy her more thoughtful side.
What in hell am I trying to say?
Nothin' really....it's so much a test as usual...just to go back later and see...