10:23 p.m.||||2003-03-11
Mp3 If you like, this is an mp3 by Bathhousebetty; a song which, although I like it, is not representative of their sound, i.e., far more punk rock influenced than this one. It is decent, though, so I reccommend it. I'm on their asses about putting up some better ones, and their site will be hosting them soon also.
4:02 p.m.||||2003-03-11
Actually, nearly every perpetrator of abuse in my life was female, except for my dad (verbal) and one babysitter.
Harry got his drivers license renewed after six years of not having one and fearing getting arrested for a prior in as long a time, but it is all on the up and up and he's driving and so hurrah! And his boss sold him some funny computer, offbrand, that has Windows 95, almost all of its orignal memory and wroks fine. For twenty bucks.
Dave came in holding the phone while I was waking up this am, telling A, "I don't know if she's sick or depressed or what...." and then he asked me if he could go out.
I am sort of beneath the surface in some ways lately.
Yesterday was the day after I recieved birthday money early - my actual turning 35 occurs on Wedensday - so I had that little anticipation and rush of buying. It seriously fucked with my head all day, and I am lucky I started to analzye my feelings as I drove across town because I felt dangerous and able to do anything.
When I exchanged some pants I'd bought last weekend, turns out they should have been on sale in the first place, so I got twenty dollars back. That was my reward for not giving into a different demon.
That excited me, but I was still feeling under-water, so I decided to trek all the hell back across town to see The Life of David Gale - for which my own jury is still out. I enjoyed, but am capable of finding flaws. Yet, I am still thinking about it today. I had hope for another Usual Suspects, but knew in advance from its criticism that I should be happy if it held together at all. And it did. I really adore Kevin Spacey, but don't find him as sexy as I once did. I wish he were my "big brother".
Then I followed my movie up with a trip to MC Sporting Goods, where I bought a mini-trampoline.
From there to the thrift store where I bought two new cardigan sweaters, both a little too short but still fine.
I plan on cleaning my bedroom and jumping up and down on the trampoline in a while. I might have to put Josh in highchair when I do it. I bought jumping up and down pants in honor.
I meant to buy a journal when I was out also, but was already steepe in the buying of potentially uses things with which to make myself feel worse later, so I postponed it.
After over 17 years of paper journal keeping, I have one thing to say. It might be a better tool for those who aren't considerably predestined for intense bouts of self hatred; and for those whho didn't spend every page in every one of those journals trying to outrun the same demon, and to answer just one stupid, unanswerable question.
Rereading thme does makes me like myself more, but in an objective and sort of pitying way. I like the humor. I hate the fact that I'm still the same gerbil in the habitrail.
And by the way, I used Sysphus as my own lively in joke for years before that fucking car commercial started to. I'm mad.
Madder than when they stole The Smiths, whose own dear Robert I now resemble. Thanks to the only conditioner that works on my hair, but is inspiring great revolt in my skin...down my back and behind my ear. What the hell.
I've gained a bit of weight recently; to take a pregnancy test or not?
I think it's just that I finish my meal along with Josh's and this house usually holds nothing but cheese. Thus, the trampoline. If my weight decides to start changing I fear that'll be trouble, because while I normally don't think too much of it, when it starts to feel like something I need to do something about, other, trickier, triggers get set in my head.
OK, well. It's almost 5:00. I need to go DO something.
9:54 a.m.||||2003-03-09
Apparently I am not supposed to enjoy BHB shows anymore, I am supposed to hate them, and I probably should hate everyone in it. Or, I am supposed to go to shows, enjoy them, and spend the rest of my fucking life paying for it.
Let's just say that while Friday was one for their greatest sets ever, the atmosphere was a fucking nightmare, like a trip straight back to high school, and I simply cannot believe this is how it will play out. I'm 35 years old, happy in my relationship, and completely baffled as to how, once you've "forgiven" someone, you can then live to relive the past over and over again. I am sick of people.
I didn't pick sides a week or ago and now, I'm being treated amongst other things, as if I'm retarded, a pain in the ass, the enemy, selfish, too stupid to know that I'm being talked about, too stupid to know that everyone's getting taken out in this one...basically like I'm a bitch and this is somehow my problem. Really, she hates eveything he touches and every single thing he does.
I said to Dave last week, it's so obvious that she hates his guts - she says so all the time - why are they together? Why doesn't she do the honest umane thing, and just tell him it's over. Does she really need to torture him first?
I'd love to tell you what sparked this but it's not even of the essence, really.
Thanks for listening, I'm tired and stressed. my feelings bent, and I'm pissed because, oops there goes another one. Some women will tell you they hate women, they never can have female friends and then turn around and do every stereotypical nasty thing that women traditionally do, and act comepletely unaware.
Oh, and it was the other bandmates girlfriend who made sure to tell her so she had to freak out. I'm in trouble for wishing I could mind my own business while she gets accolades for minding everyone elses.
Oh my fucking God!! This isn't high school and yet it is part of my scenery now. This is uncomfortable enough to make me stop attending Dave's shows...I mean, now that I have been ostracized, who will I hang out with? See, I'm smart enough to think, I don't want to be here, therefore I will not come. I will not come anyway and then have complaints about every single thing, from last weeks news, to how stupidly loud they play.
This reminds me of my relationship when I was eighteen.
I feel sick.
Oh yeah, and I'm mad at Linda too.
Just as an aside....I've been realy battling with my self confidence this past several months, but especially in the wake of several social things lately.
A few weekends ago I saw a bunch of old friends at a party - seven children belonginng to a throng of the old gang. We're all in our thirties so the playing field is a little more level than usual for me.
It was good to see everyone - especially an old girlfriend of mine with whom I have a sort of love/hate relationship (It's possible I have always liked her while she has made her best effort to like me back, or at least put up with me. It's hard to tell. She has been known to be vicious in the past.) I still feel like I'm the one who...
how do I put this?? I mean, typically I'm pretty well liked, although I do find it easier to talk to men. I have decent social skills, I'm chatty, smart and I can hold a conversation. Perhaps I'm selfish. I try not to be. I think I'm a good listener. I can't put my finger on it. My it's my personality when I drink. Am I too loud?
Here's the crux. I try not to feel paranoid, and I try not to over anaylze, but I find myself sometimes catching attitude from people, usually women. Sideways glances, a sort of exhausted concession, Why? I am someone who strong female personalities will, in person, actually condescend to. I have been treated as if I'm impaired by a woman playing alpha female more than once, and I play to it. I nevern confront, but usually I am hurt and fucking furious and sort of self destructive feeling for a while afterward.
Why do women feel they can or want or should treat me this way? Is it me? No. It isn't. I tend to not trust my own feelings in certain scenarios becausemy instinct is to block it out. Put on my most benign expression and just refuse to acknowledge it.
I saw and hread every thing at the bar the other night and frankly, the entire thing is so self-serving and and useless. What the fuck.
Anyway.
Sometimes I don't get the rules and codes that women use...and sometimes I do and I refuse to. Usually when I start feeling chilly attitude it's because I have broken a rule of conduct.
I hate fake empathy, you know? And being expected to really back someone up in their hatred of their significant other whom they are supposed to love, otherwise why in hell would they stick it out, knowing hate em today love em tomorrow, it's all a drama, and if you get involved you're fucked, but if you don't get involved twice so.
Men don't act like that, do they?
Oh, the sewer backed up yesterday and while I thought it might have been a dirty diaper upstairs, that what I looked for and found and then stopped wondering.
Because there are six cats and one old, decaying, partly cripppled dog with incontinence, in the basement, there is sometimes a faint smell of animal. The heater picks up scent and blows them striaght upstairs. Linda spends a sad amount of time cleaning up the uotput of this farm, and usually there is no smell, or only a tiny one.
There was one yesterday, as I said.
She came home, blazed a trail downstairs, was donw there for a long time and when she cam up her eyes were all flashing and dark and dnagerous, and she hissed at us, no shit, hissed "didn't you guys know the sewer backed up downstairs?????"
Then she stomped around and slammed stuff and was even more mad because we didn't jump up in fake empathy and start frantically running downstairs looking for some shit to clean.
I was holding Josh, curled up, Dave was holding both of us and sort of massaging my sore sore side when she stormed in. You know what, world? Fuck all of your drama, and your empathic episodes of females bonding dishonestly; and fuck how everyone feels they can take a dump on my head because I don't find the exact things important and just whatever.
I feel kicked and stepped upon. You know, I was chronically picked on, bullied and abused throughout my entire childhood. I'm sure much of how I cope when I'm aware I'm becoming the fodder for gossip, is automatic and perhaps not something even I notice. But I'm good at covering it up. I'm good at hiding all my feelings most of the time. I decide who gets what. I dole out the pleasant side of myself pretty goddamn generously, I feel. And I do it for other fucking people, so they will like me and keep me, etc. And so often I find out, not a very good friend, actually I'm quite expendible, often the first to go.
It's my fucking birthday party today, dammit. Yay me.
Sigh
3:28 p.m.||||2003-03-07
I do find it incredible that I've been reading some of the same people for far over a year now. I used to struggle trying to determine if friendships struck through an online discovery were as legitimate as the real life ones - and of course. In an odd way, yearning for my online friends to breathing and laughing in the same room, city, car, has set me free in willingness to make new goals and take new risks. Thanks to all of you for existing, for writing and for taking an interest in me.
Josh will be two in May. I began this journal when he was four months old, not very long before 911, and at a time in my life where I had never felt so isolated. So much has changed, I have changed....it's sort of bizarre that I began my online dallying at a time when motherhood was absolutely redefining every thing I have ever known, thought, been, wanted, needed...it's nuts.
Did you know that parenting steals some of your words? And a lot of your terminal uniqueness? That the payoff for these losses is unspeakably intense, complicated and wonderful? Umhmmmm. I have never ever loved another person as much as I love my boy. As weirdly low as my self confidence is as I continue to grow up and realize that so much of what I used to take for granted as true, liberating and intellectual is mostly bullshit; I transcend so much of my own stupidity, arrogance and self congratulation through the simple grace of my toddler. I am having to reconstruct my sense of self worth constantly to create a better schema for him and for the better self I am through having known him.
Later I an gonna do a retrospective in photos of my darling beautiful boy.
By the way - he's off the hook now into the toddler boy major master destructo phase. I rarely pee alone much less have time to update. Ah, the permanent and abrupt loss of one's privacy. You think you know but you have no idea....
I want my....
Anyhoo.
11:27 a.m.||||2003-03-01
wow - Mr Rogers never was exported to Europe, Disco? I'm surpised, frankly. He's so far superior to Barney it's funny. He was definitely one of a kind. That was the fellow my grandfather knew and befriended in his puppeteering career.
I had the longest most emotional dream about Kevin Spacey. I was pretending not to know him, then I admitted I did and began asking him deep questions about his new tv show (the one I made up in the dream, also featuring Harry Connick Junior and repeated references to a single knife blade that always popped up the scene of murders with a clue written in paper and taped to its shaft)
Through the dream I wanted to bond deeply with him but was afraid of his celebrity, so I was being cold and analytical which sort of made him friendlier. By the end he liked me.
agh.
11:57 p.m.||||2003-02-25
haha - "red wovles" (Google) (fucking loves me, but the meta tags I put actual thought into yield nothing) - just say it. Any relation to a weeble or a wobble?
10% of Musicmatch, basic, FREE, to try and see if it's able to encode...unCLEAR from the website. Trying to get Mp3's together for Dave's band, because they really are phenominal, in my humblest of opinions. But, eghkh!, the never-ending download that is my life.
I was just about to try to get a secretarial job, although my typing is still slow as hell, and then Dave went and got a decent assignment.
Dye, bleach, plucking and tweaking, you know the drill.
I'll return.
So, I forgot that Musicmatch'll do - I made myself an Mp3 and it's on.
It is now apparently bound to take til tomorrow for that song to see the light of happily uploaded day.
Here I sit. Sitting still. Some more sitting being done on the part of yours truly, who gained ten pounds out of nowhere suddenly.
You know, it's a lot harder to disseminate a page when it's constructed entirely in Flash. Disseminate?? No, no, I meant Deconstruct. But seriously. Sort of aggravating. I like some of the stuff I've seen done with it - but whole freaking pages? When some users really balk at that? It implies that the users of such sites are true techie snobs.
As I snidely pointed out last week, the people who went on to constitute what happened to my last band - their website has fallen under the seductive spell of too much Flash. They're just the sort of art phags I seek to avoid, really.
3:00 p.m.||||2003-02-25
All right, as you can see, it had to go...this was a lot of fun, all javascript hijinx - but the really cool layout had a slideshow and it wouldn't work in dland. More later. Later. Mostly I am bored. Dave is working - I made this and mostly out of inspiration to change the title so that everyone and their brother doesn't hit this through "run, rabbit, run". Poor Updike. Dave called me last night from A's after they finished flyering for this week's shows (holy crap, forgot to updatte the site...oops) to ask if I wanted hair dye. Hear Cartman saying "hell yeah I want hair dye!" I feel like shit. Back to the eggs and macaroni diet. Yuk.
8:39 p.m.||||2003-02-21
How Republican Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
8:20 p.m.||||2003-02-21
Just for shit and giggles, as soon as I fill out this "how Republican am I" quiz (and my predictive guess has to be "not fucking very"), I need to ask all of you that have two seconds and some amoebic affection for me, to go to my other site, see what you think, and then come back and tell me. Please?
Consider yourslef my testing audience.
Blues Design
(uh, the quizilla thing failed, the answer was "SAINT")
How Republican Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Told ya.
By the way I type-touched this whole stupid thing.
Now, I mean it, it would mean a lot to me if you guys would tell me, good or bad, whether you think my design site is decent and working or retarded and stupid, I can take it, I need it, I'd be adding templates right now if I thought they stood a chance. Please keep in mind that this site is to share my efforts and to try to get a job, but is IS for Diaryland, etc. (Therefore, have a sense of humor, please. And, sign the guestbook there if you would. Any and all suggestions for the improvement of this site will be appreciated and considered!)
8:06 p.m.||||2003-02-21
Wow, whatta weird week. Do you ever have the sensation that your moods are like a little, bent, and somewhat waterlogged buoy boucing along the stream of indecision?
Yeeessss. I have had trouble giving a care about this here online journal, because, although I'm well, comparatively, I'm treading water trying to get a proverbial life.
I didn't get that job so now I'm learning to touch type in the hopes of finding a job.
I'm tired of all the online job promises turning out to be total crap. Why is this world so full of scams?
And how about that encroaching war?
Oh fer cryin out loud - Dave has Josh downstairs listening to my most hated Christian album ever - Watermark? They must be fucking desparate.
I have a tremendous fear of Big Brother - I wish I could vent here about politics, but I can't.
so.
I'm alive (I think) and as soon as I can come up with a mood appropriate template, I'll try harder.
9:47 p.m.||||2003-02-15
I'm doing that sniffing around the text entry box thing I do when there has been too much to report to myself even, more so you.
I am tired of being flippant in the absence of courage.
I had a real weird, low-down but sort of good to be me week.
Regret, followed by active replacement of negative with postitive followed by a ton of STUDYING of NETWORKING.
I didn't get the job.
And you know what? Their loss. And it would have been too punk rock ethos (???) for my sad, tired, but still perky ass, and too cliquish maybe, really, so what the fuck. I'd rather wear dimly veiled vintage office tweeds with weird scarves than greasy t-shirts anyday. Aside. I mean. I'm not even remotely interested in the msuic they peddle, really, more just in an industry which appalls and inspires simultaneously.
I've said too much.
I will burst forth into prolific song soon. Or not.
6:47 p.m.||||2003-02-08
shes always out making out pictures shes always out making scenes
shes always out the window
when it comes to making dream
its all mixed up its all mixed up its all mixed up its all mixed up.
REDHOUSEPAINTERS - bouyyyyy.
So, I'm sitting here at Gene's, hunting down the most maudlin music on his hard drive I can find, to fit my mood, what mood, the mood of an aging wanted to be rock star.
Actually, I never did. But I kept being in these bands partly for the notariety, but mostly because I just compulsively cant help it. But I hated it. I had a bad attitude from the get-go/have always needed lots of approval to not feel terrified. But at the same time, some things come naturally. i especially always liked making my own mixes on my four track - and mixing several vocal tracks form rough cuts from practise.
I wonder if that part of my llife is over.
I doubt it. And other then wishing previous things I did could have wound up on vinyl, I really feel no pressure. It irks me that I squandered certain opportunities....but at the same time, they weren't ones that were healthy or right.
6:29 p.m.||||2003-02-08
new