Happy Yuletide!

on other notes..

she left this morning.

we passed the evening with few words.

frantic sex and exhausted sleep.

she left her mittens on my painting table-

lost amongst the myriad of colors-

a reminder.

*does a little happy dance of joy*

for those of you who've been following, i've been having troubles of late. I was on academic probation from last semester because i had insomnia and barely went to class for two months, i was so ill. Nearly literally had a nervous breakdown. Actaully i probably did, i was just too incoherent to realize it. Failed all my classes, save one 'd'.

This semester, life is going fine and dandy. Mcc's joined me at college, no more long distance relationship, it's all good. We're terribly happy, school's good, i have friends again, it's all warm and fuzzy.

Then health issues strike again. i've developed fairly severe hypoglycemia. I'm still learning to deal with it, regulate my diet, still learning to deal with the mood swings that occour when i don't eat enough, or the right things. Still trying to cope with the sickness i feel when i have too little, or too much, sugar in my system. It's fairly hellish, there's a remote possibility it could become, in years, diabetes. my biggest fear because i am deathly afraid of needles. I have a series of severe attacks, and i miss classwork in two of my four classes. At this point, if nothing is done, i am failing out of college. I'm on probation and failing 6 credit hours, due to missed work--one class had only 3 tests and i'd missed one.

I talk to the ADA chapter. i talk to my professors. i go see a counselor. I talk to damn near everyone i know to talk to. No dice. ada says 'we need your bloodwork first'--it's still lost in the mail to this day. they say 'have your dr call us'. the dr said 'im two months backlogged in calls, its flu season. have them call me and i'll talk.' they wont call her. My spanish teacher insists there's nothing wrong with my health, even with two doctor's notes. I'm just a "slacker who's skipping class for no reason". She won't help me. Finally i talk to my theatre teacher instead of crossing wires with her time and again, and she's wonderful. I'd been afraid of her because she'd been gruff but she was wonderful and sweet and helpful and let me make up everything with no penalty. It's all good. Except for spanish, which never will be.

Until i see my academic advisor. We calculate my grades. I know one final grade--a solid B. The other three are borderlines: a/b b/c, and d/f (spanish, suprised?) If i get the lower of the two in all three classes... my graduation gpa will be a 1.49 i need a 1.5 to stay in school. they do not round. If i get the higher in any of the three, i'm all kinds of ok. I find this out four days before finals. I'm petrified.

I take my finals, one by one, panicking the entire time. What will i do if i fail out? My parents will try to make me stay in houston, where i am utterly miserable. I'm tired of the city, living with them would kill me, my friends are at school and i just spent a year apart from my love i can take no more of that. But the only way to return to west lafayette is to get an apartment here, pay my own rent, get a job, buy a car, and be on my own. I don't know how ot do this. i don't know how to handle money. I don't know how to be grown up. At all. I've had money, enough to buy my trinkets, but never enough to matter, or to leanr how to use it. I know one day and maybe soon i'll walk away and pay myself. But i'm not ready now.

and i take my tests. and i return to houston. and i worry. i worry nonstop, completely and utterly. i wake up each morning, fearing grades have been posted. i can barely function. .01 of a point may have just cost me college. and i wait, and i worry. i eat sushi, wednesday, with my love. and he lets slip, grades are in fact up. i panic... but then decide to let it go for three hours. i go see Lord of the Rings and am utterly blown away. utterly and completely, it surpasses any expectations i had. then i go back to my house--not home, purdue is home. and i wait till he signs online. then after some coaxing, and preparing for the rest ofmy life to be shaped in that moment, i look.

I got not one, but two, of the borderline grades i needed. I'm in, i'm still here, and i'm damn well staying put. not QUITE good enough to get off probation, but pretty fucking close. and a far shot from failing out, now, too.

thank you to all who listened to me, tried to comfort and advise me, prayed for me, and offered any kind of help i could need. it meant the world to me, to know people cared. you guys are amazing, truly amazing. i love this place. it is a community. i love you all. thank you so much...

I watch my dearest friend now sleeping on my bed.

She rests softly on the very same pillow I am tormented on.
The pillow that absorbs my fear that I might love her.

poor thing.

There are so many things I long to share with her. It might bring us closer but it wouldn't change the fact.
I am not the one.

"she's dreaming of Valentino's eyes
far away
in someone else's night
isn't wrong, but still it isn't right"

-- TtWS
My mother sent a letter to me that began with truth, things we both likely believe:

You are almost 30 and you need to get your act together. You've been living in a tourist place and you don't want to settle there. You don't want to be there for the rest of your life.

She continued with her only suggestion:

Move back home. There are lots of good jobs here.

And then she followed it with lies:

Your brother's going to move here after he retires next year.

My mother will never never stop thinking that coming home will solve all my problems. Like all the things that have happened to me will just go away. I don't really think she'd thinking of my happiness. She's always tried to get me do what she wants. I didn't run home when things fell to shit here 6 years ago, and I'm not moving back now.

I'm not coming home, mom. I'm sorry, but there's a big world out there, much bigger than you can provide me in your comfort. I don't know if you will understand this, mom, but I have a life here, one I'm pretty proud of. Your generation taught me that I can't rely on a career to provide me much of anything, that what really matters, what gets me through, is friends and community, two things I aggressively and actively seek to establish and maintain. Things that bring me joy, that complete me. Because mom, I may never have children, and I may likely never end up like you. Not that what you ended up in is bad, but it's not me. So what if I'm almost 30?

I owe you nothing. Stop pushing. I'm almost 30, and if was going to work, it would have worked by now.

I saw Lauren at Deuce again. Lauren is the girl I got with a few weeks ago. She asked me for my phone number, so I gave it to her.

How the night ended up: me meditating, sometimes pausing to talk to her, or to dance, hand or otherwise.

During the conversation, I learnt she thought I talked as if I was much older than I was. I wondered to myself if this was because I appeared to be talking down to her, or if I was actually acting mature. She also seemed to think that I was no more than a dancer, that my body was little more than a house for this dancing spirit I hold.

Later, somehow, in her conclusion jumping mind, she created the idea that I hated her. To be honest, I felt indifferent. She seemed, to me, to be little more than a collection of stereotypes. Naturally, I probably appear the same way to other people.

I dispelled her delusional myth.

She asked me if I would get with her. I said "Nah." She asked me if I would call her if I gave her my number. I honestly said, "I don't know." I wouldn't attempt to predict my own actions over the span of a few weeks.

I think it was at this point that her eyes appeared to be tearing up. I leaned over it get a closer look, and it was then that she appeared to hold back the tears.

Oh dear, that poor foolish girl. It appeared she had fallen in lust for the dancing spirit within me.

I know it must be a bad move to fall in lust instead of falling in love. Lust is desire, and when a great amount goes unfulfilled, it results in a broken heart where there was no love to begin with. When one falls in love, one will often accept the nature of the beloved, even if it involves rejection: "I couldn't disrespect him for his nature."

I remember two times when I made women fall in lust with me by my mindcraft. Even with this power, I didn't have the confidence to make moves on them, and it resulted in their broken hearts. Luckily, I gained the knowledge fast with my empathy, and, with my soulcraft I restored them to a state of happiness before their souls were badly injured.

It's a terrible feeling, a tightening pain in the heart chakra, but I have never experienced it directly, only through the empathy.

Of course, Sean, my psychologist, refuses to accept these goings-on, as any good skeptic should, I guess.

One time I doubted them myself. I thought that maybe I had been psychotic, delusional. So I went around to Liquid's and asked him if he remembered the times when we had both been stoned and I accidentally thought in his head. He said enthusiastically "Yeah!" with a tone as if I should know it was real. We'd never spoken of it until that day.

I had told Sean a quote from the works of Chuang-Tzu, that Chou had once dreamt he was a butterfly, and so he could not tell if he was a butterfly dreaming he was Chou, or before he was Chou dreaming he was a butterfly.

I talked to the psychiatrist because I was curious was medication he would prescribe. He said to me, "Oh, so it says here you thought you were a butterfly," in a strange, sometimes hard to decipher, Middle Eastern accent. I think he even made little wing gestures with his hands.

So that was the guy who gives out powerful drugs capable of altering people's brain chemistry.

Anyway, when the DJ stopped at eleven, I said to Lauren that "I don't often call my friends." She didn't seem any more satisfied.

I didn't ask for this kind of control over other people. I'm just trying to live my life.

december 21, 2001 7:46pm

Let's take a walk...
To the other side
where the sly thoughts hide
Lets go behind the scenes
Unravel those mysteries
Locked up so tight
Lets jump a few fences and dirty our boots
Find a few treasures and collect some loot
Yes, what a good thing to do
Get crazy and wild on a Wednesday night
Find some friends and a few to fight
Always fun in every plight
Lets explore the hidden world
The underground heaven
Taint the air with tales of our after hour prowls
Back in time so nobody knows
Our smiles that hold something more
Baffle those who thought they had us behind locked doors
Our lives flow on and so do we
But we never forget
What others have forgotten.

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