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Colorlessgreen.net

I probably shouldn't have done it. Can I afford it? Not really. But it was pretty cheap...

(sigh)

go here.

Three months now since I had my hair trimmed. Damn curls.

I ditched my last post because it was rambling.

I'm angry and sad right now. I live in a world where a tiny cluster of cells has more rights than a human woman. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I keep forgetting that a woman's worth is measured by her status as fetus incubator and/or potential fuck.

I'm working on a real post, but I need to take a break from the screen for awhile. I've been fixing bad WYSIWYG-generated html (messy!) for several hours now.

Happy Birthday Pisces Poet!

I'm nearing the end of a house/cat-sitting stint in Woodinville.

Goodbye Octavia.

oh yes - I'm ditching the icq account as well.
I'll still be on AIM (linguikat) though.

Sometimes bridges can't be repaired and most decisions are final. I don't know why I have to keep relearning that. I guess I think that if I pretend long enough or hard enough... I don't know. I know I need to stop because it just hurts more each time reality emerges.

I'm taking a break (of undetermined length) from writing online. People have my phone and e-mail. (My snail mail address is good for at least a little while and then there's possible forwarding.)

Feeling: indescribable

I feel so dark. I logged on to AIM today and couldn't talk to anyone. I don't know why I bothered. I couldn't seem to find a thing to say to denim or linguistmage and they're always easy to chat with. I should be driving to Ballard, but I just spent three hours under my blankets and my head hurts. I don't want to talk to my housemates, much less anyone else.

Feeling: gloomy

This world is big and so-awake
I stayed up late to hear your voice
This light is here to keep you warm
This song is here to keep you strong

I made a list of things to say
But all I really want to say
All I really want to say is
Hold her and keep him strong
While I'm away from here
Hold her and keep her strong
While I'm away from here

I've seen the world and so-awake
And stay up late to hear me sing
Just hold her
I've seen the world and so-awake
And stay up late to hear me sing
Just hold him
Hold her and keep her strong
While I'm away from here
Hold him and keep him strong
While I'm away from here

The ex lost his latest tech job in Pittsburgh. He was fired for stealing info and breaking some confidentiality rule. He is now working at a coal mine with one of his step brothers. Some days, I’d drive back there just to smack him.

I loved him once. I thought he just needed a champion, someone to support him, get him through college. Whether that meant just being his cheering section or financial support, I was there. I would have waved that flag forever if only it’d been mutual.

I used to think that I’d done all this changing, and he’d just stayed the same. Not so. We just continued a process of becoming more and more ourselves. And eventually, the differences were too great to ignore. None of what we wanted for each other, nothing we believed, matched. Two years now and it still feels like my failure. (that I couldn't be what he needed, that he couldn't be satisfied with who I was, that we were parents at 20, that I ever wanted to be married...)

Feeling: sleepy

I woke up at 3:30 this morning feeling rested. I had more lucid dreams about Baguazhang (due to E and his demonstration, I guess) and also managed to dream my way through the entire short form.

Feeling: contemplative

like drums in the night
like sweet soul music
like sunlight

( click here for my post )

Feeling: melancholy

Well, I did ask didn’t I?

And I was prepared for people to see me as incompetent, inflexible, timid, aloof, glum, insecure, irresponsible, vulgar, lethargic, withdrawn, hostile, selfish, unhappy, unhelpful, cynical, needy, unimaginative, brash, irrational, distant, childish, boastful etc., etc., etc….

I can be all of those things, though some more than others. I'd like to think that a lot of those words are the ninth or tenth thing someone would think of when they think of describing me - sort of like a "well, if I absolutely have to pick one more" kind of thing.

BUT
cowardly?

I've never considered myself cowardly. Not ever. It wouldn't even be in my top twenty. Confused, somewhat crazy, indecisive, great starter, lousy finisher, sure.

Cowardly took me by surprise. I suppose it shouldn’t have.
Still, no worries.
Just well, "Oh, okay..."

Feeling: okay

I'm going to keep bumping this to the top until you guys fill BOTH out.

Please contribute to my Johari Window. :)
And my Nohari Window. :(

Under my bowels, yellow with smoke,
it waits.
Under my eyes, those milk bunnies,
it waits.
It is waiting.
It is waiting.
Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse.
Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover.
When truth comes spilling out like peas
it hangs up the phone.
When the child is soothed and resting on the breast
it is my other who swallows Lysol.
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet
it is my other who sits in a ball and cries.
My other beats a tin drum in my heart.
My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep.
My other cries and cries and cries
when I put on a cocktail dress.
It cries when I prick a potato.
It cries when I kiss someone hello.
It cries and cries and cries
until I put on a painted mask
and leer at Jesus in His passion.
Then it giggles.
It is a thumbscrew.
Its hatred makes it clairvoyant.
I can only sign over everything,
the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels,
the soul, the family tree, the mailbox.

Then I can sleep.

Maybe.

My housemates are driving me loco. Muy, muy loco! The bobos! Cayate bobos! (sigh) All these little things keep adding up – today residentartist left me a note telling me to clean the bathroom, but it’s not my turn, in fact, I JUST DID IT, but the person who is supposed to be doing it, needlegirl, is in Vermont. Why should I be the one to pick up the chore if she is away? He didn’t even ask me, so much as tell me it needed to be done, as if because the only other person with ovaries is out of town, it is suddenly my job to scrub the toilet? If he’d said, “Gee, I know it’s not your turn – but” I might feel better about it. But he didn’t even acknowledge it, and that sucks. And I refuse to play along. I am not the mother or the wife.

The only way to win this game is not to play.

Anyway – I left a rather terse note on the community board that doesn’t exactly foster communication. In the end, I can see this all being my fault because I got angry instead of just sitting everyone down and discussing it.

And that irritates me too.