Some days I'm almost able to pretend that I am normal... Then others, my whole world comes crashing down around me. Today has only existed for an hour, and I'm already struggling to hold on to the hope that life can be good again.

Today I managed to hurt a dear friend. One irrational outburst from me, and I am scared that I may have caused irreparable damage. You'd think that I'd be used to it by now. I've been this way six years... Six years of manic depression, and I still rarely notice my mood slipping, until it's way to late and I've already said something I regret. Words just slide out of my mouth… There is no way a rational thought process could be connected to those words.

It's come to the stage where a simple 'I'm sorry' isn't enough. Nothing can take back the hurt. And so I just hold onto that faint glimmer of hope... That things will get better... That it won't happen another time... That the depression will fade out of existence, never to be seen again.

T I R E D.

Last night was great, but I stayed up way too late despite having work to get up for. We were planning on going rollerskating in Eltham, but when we called up it turned out they had private hockey practise on... along with about 3 other places. We finally decided to go to the Fun Factory on Chapel St.

We got strange looks as we walked in, presumably from the various pieces of decorative headwear we were wearing (ie. devil horns, Wonka hats, Scream masks; Halloween isn't widely celebrated in Australia). After getting our skates/blades, Nat pointed out the prevalance of males in the place, and that they were playing YMCA over the sound system; it seemed we'd unwittingly come on 'Gay Skate' night at the Fun Factory. That may have attributed to some of the strange looks as we walked in.

No matter, we wanted to skate, so we skated. It was a friendly atmosphere and, as the announcer said, it is the only place in the gay community that is drug and alcohol free, so we were happy. Nobody minded that Anna and I were skating around holding hands, and even if they did, so what? I don't think Jay was particularly comfortable, although he did eventually get some skates on, hehe.

Just another example of how comfortable I am with Anna... before I met her, there's no way I would have been walking down Chapel Street with a purple Wonka hat on my head, then proceeding to skate with it on in a gay skate rink. But hey, she's changed who I am, for the better, and I'm not complaining.

Ooh, and I got 1st place on the Point Blank machine there too, which I was proud of. *grins*

We ended up at the Pancake Parlour, as we usually do on our nights out, since they're open late. It's always a good place to just socialise with people I don't necessarily see that often too, so yeh, it's all good.

Anna isn't allowed to drive her Dad's car at night, so unfortunately we couldn't go back to my place, but we slept together on her couch, which was extremely uncomfortable; I think we were both a bit restless and frustrated. But I got to hold her, so that was all I needed, and worth the tiredness today.

back to October 31, 2001 | on to November 7, 2001

It still feels like Halloween. It doesn't matter though. My halloween wasn't worth anything. I'm so tired of being alone. I miss the boy I love. I miss everything. I hate being here. Its just not worth my time. I have class too early tommorrow/today. Its in less than 8 hours now. I'm waiting for that boy to call me back. I'm glad he's having a good time. Maybe I'm just jealous. Some boy told me I'm breaking hearts. I don't think so. No one says a word to me. No one cares. I'm too drunk to care I suppose. But not drunk enough in my opinion. Go ahead, delete this. It doesn't matter any more. I'm so tired of being alone. I miss being loved. If you've found someone to love, don't let them go. Don't let them move across the country as you move in the opposite direction. I'll never meet any one I love more. It'll just never happen.

the crappy batteries i bought at ... 11:00 yesterday morning have ceased to power my cd player, and so finally i have had to slink home past the two-block radius frat party on the lawn of my apartments. i'm damn glad i could get through at all this time. jesus, it was frightening. i have never seen so many people standing in front of my apartment. even the time billy threw the party with the live band and free beer.

so, here i am, home at last, listening to the same mix i've had on all day.
MindWired IV : The Lizard Dreaming
1. ghost in the shell theme
2. coil :: windowpane
3. front line assembly :: silent ceremony
4. Loreena McKennitt :: mummer's dance
5. vnv nation :: standing
6. machines of loving grace :: butterfly wings
7. tear garden :: in search of my rose
8.darling violetta :: suffered angel
9. einsturzende neubauten :: the garden
10. kmfdm :: mysterious ways
11. fur elise, the trance remix
12. sisters of mercy :: lost boys theme
13. covenant :: final man
14. dada :: sf bar 63
15. wumpscut :: soylent green

so, i suppose i should talk about dinner last night. not much to say, really. as with all such things, many words were left unsaid, and a few revelations were made. much talk about the past and future of film and of science fiction. much good chinese food was consumed.

Starrynight walked me to class after dinner. didn't carry my books or hold my hand, or any of that stuff that guys tend to do in that situation...but, just to have him walk with me and to continue speaking of whatever the subject had come to at that point was enough to break my heart and numb my fingers. with everyone else who had ever tried, it had seemed like a tiresome obligation was being attended to, no matter how solicitous they might have been. i don't claim to know what goes on in his head, half the time we are nearly different species, but having starrynight walk me to class felt like a gesture of kindness. sometimes i think he's just trying to confuse me. *half-hearted curmudgeonly scowl*

fighting time / so hard i pray that this moment lasts forever / and will the world stay standing still at least for me?

he held the door for me, gave me a hug, made his farewells...i looked up and met his eyes for just a moment as some new flash of protective humour slithered across his scruffy face. i totally forgot the pomegranate in my pocket. i'd meant it for a gift. i totally forgot the world for a moment...i laughed, i cried, i drop kicked my own heart....i did none of these things. on the outside, i suppose i simply froze. i wanted to (chastely!) press my lips to his, and impart the inexplicable inspiration and enlightenment that had begun to seize me. (obviously i didn't do this either, i'd been eating garlic, for one, and i really don't think he'd have let me that close to his face, garlic or no.) instead i muttered something unintelligible, and he slipped away as i slipped into the building in an ecstatic creative haze.

class went quickly, and somehow, i managed not to wind up at a small party. instead, karen and i wandered to the library for a bit, and she tried to take me home. tried. the party literally stretched two blocks in at least three directions. she dropped me back at the library and went home.

i wandered about in a daze for some hours, cold, alone, and without pencil or paper. i walked through the streets, drawing every eye to what was apparently my +10 bubble of instant presence. i smirked. i wore sunglasses. i loathed myself and most of the idiots around me. finally, i wound up outside the church where my brother and i used to talk late at night. i sat on a railing and smoked, staring up at the full moon. the creative urge had become painful. i had to get something out of my hands before they turned against me. i could feel the gnawing ache in my chest and in my extremities. i braced myself, and walked up to the frontier...if nothing else i could doodle on a napkin. the pain let up a bit after i got some orange juice into me.

not nearly enough. i began to walk across campus toward home. i passed the mother tree where my brother and i used to stop and play in the dead of winter. i stood by it a while, until the world suddenly moved without asking me. balance gone, vision questionable at best, i went slamming into the ground, landing one foot in the (*shudder*) duck pond. i'm still assessing the swelling on the finger that got bashed on the way down. i think it's just sprained, possibly compressed. world still whirling, i hauled myself out of the water, and staggered toward home. somehow, i made it to the alley that ends right in front of my apartment. there were frat boys in my deck chairs, throwing empty bottles on my porch.

too much. way the fuck too much. i walked through them, moving them by sheer force of will where necessary, and vanished into my apartment. home. home at last, three hours later than i intended, maybe more, i can't be sure anymore. i went upstairs to my room to get out of the leather and the greasepaint and into something ... well, it isn't like anyone would be seeing me before noon... i realised that my curtains were open just the tiniest slit when the flashbulb went off. resigned, i tossed on a housedress and came in here to write. they'll realise their mistake when they see the pictures sober. what a waste of film.

there was once a pope who said, "kill them all, god will know his own." and sometimes i am sorely tempted, but i just can't find it in my heart to give enough of a fuck to get up off my arse if it were on fire.

so, it's several hours later now, and i'm at work, eating the pomegranate that somehow persisted in being in my pocket. at this time, this daylog is at -1. i have to admit, i never understood voting on daylogs at all, nevermind downvoting. it's my life dammit. if you don't like it, be glad you're not living it.

yeah, i'm an opinionated bastard, but hey, so are all you downvoting morons.

i really don't want to go to my next class. i just want to go to the pub and have a pint of guinness. and i...holy shit, getting pomegranate juice in your eye really stings! uh, right...and i really don't cherish the prospect of sitting in a stuffy classroom listening to discussions on pauline christology. christology is great, my professor is great, it's just the stuffy and pauline parts that inspire such reluctance. saint paul, im(ns)ho, was a loser who jumped on the bandwagon to keep from getting his arse kicked. his christology is an occasionally self contradictory conglomeration of popular religious thought and philosophy at the time. frankly, it's crap, and i wonder how the epistles of paul made it into the bible when the gospel of thomas didn't. it's sick.


Finally, some signs of the non-lethal and non-intoxicating kind of white powder can be seen even here in HML. Too bad it will all melt before the week is over.

So, it's the start of November 2001.
If things had gone the way they should've had, I'd be in Japan right around now.
I guess there's no use to dwell in it.. But I still have to say - pardon my french - that it's a huge fucking disappointment. And the funny part is that the whole thing went down because I am a pussy, incapable of operating under even a fake sense of independence. If there was someone else to blame, I probably wouldn't feel so crappy about the whole deal.

Other than that, the week has been super, thanks for asking. I was a complete wreck for monday and tuesday, thanks to last weekend's let's-head-off-to-a-summer-cottage-with-a-truckload-of-booze-and-weed -fest. It was fun, but I still wonder how I could feel so damn beat after not doing much else than having strange discussions with friends while being stoned off my feet. Fortunately, after a few nights of decent sleep I'm back among the living again.
Work has been bearable too, although the constant phone conversations with advertising and marketing people aren't exactly my idea of fun. Today is kinda slow, allowing me to sit here and node a little while munching on some delicious Satsuma mandarins.

Speaking of which.. We already talked about this with Simonc, but now I'll publicly state my points on why Satsumas are the perfect fruit:

  1. They taste great. (duh)
  2. They have a protective skin, but it can be peeled off quickly and easily with one's fingers.
  3. There are virtually no seeds.
  4. Inside the skin, the fruit is already chopped into perfect slices!
I'm no sneff but I know what I like. :)
If there is a downside I'm not aware of, like satsumas causing cancer or something... don't let me know.


The entire neighborhood is experiencing a power outage, apart from our house and two others. Further up north in Finland, over 10000 households are without electricity. The storm isn't so bad, really. There will be no lives lost from this, hardly even large monetary damage. But we rarely witness nature's wrath like this, as we're located safely away from tornados, floods, earthquake areas and such. Because of that, such a relatively small "disaster" feels quite big to us. Oh well, serves us Finns right to get at least some annoyance from the forces, right?

Now let me submit this update quickly before this house gets cut off...

Professional Baseball Sucks

Today I waited in a doctor's office, and, of course, the T.V. drolled out yet another baseball game. I detest professional baseball, and I don't hide that fact. Watching someone else play baseball is like watching paint dry. I'd rather see 24-hour bowling coverage than a single minute of professional baseball.

What really struck me, though, was how much patriotism was being displayed before, during, and after the game. Now, I serve my country every day, and I am all for promoting patriotism in the U.S., but what I see going on in professional baseball makes me sick to my stomach. They are using what happened for publicity!

First, it's "Oh, we just can't play ball so soon after the WTC tragedy, it would be unpatriotic." Next thing you know, they are making a huge production about how patriotic baseball is. Before they played, they had Lee Greenwood(!) come out just to introduce his song, which they played in the stadium. Here is why it angers me: this is the same league that went on strike for 234 days in 1994 because they thought they weren't being paid enough! Risking the foundation of "The Great American Pastime" simply for greed. They made Americans look like chumps. The other example that comes to mind: Rosanne Barr went out and butchered the The Star-Spangled Banner, grabbing her crotch in the process, and yet she made it out of that stadium alive. The baseball players at that game should've been passing out the bats to the audience as they charged down from the stands to lynch her right where she stood, if there were a patriot one among them.

So I think that if Osama bin Laden and a professional baseball player were standing side by side, I'd spit on the baseball player first.

Major League Baseball member
n. see hypocrite.
This daily agonizing is draining the life out of me.

I know I need to stop - but I can't. I suppose I'll have to go through all the phases and then live a normal life afterwards. Well, I'm in the phase where all I want is pr0n. Strips clubs would be a good idea, but none of my friends want to go there, for fear of being too horny and having many lapdances. They don't want to spend any money.

However, I am on the verge of wanting another relationship. Perhaps something a little less serious. I found myself logging onto one of those personals websites. I still have to complete a short description about myself and what I am looking for, but I cannot bring myself to write anything. I realize that still, I am not over her.

I am and I am not.

I also wonder if my wanting a relationship is only for the motivation of sex. I'm not that kind of person, so I'll lead myself to believe all I need is someone to talk to.

In other, more interesting developments, I've finally discovered what road lust is about. It's basically flirting with drivers, in my case, good-looking female drivers, by accelerating and decelerating as well as changing lanes all in a manner like that of a ballroom dance. All of this is done in your car. Of course, It's most effective if the car has some cosmetic enhancements like a body kit. So far, I've flirted with the driver of a Hyundai Tiburon and a driver of a VW Golf.

Here we go again...

Superficial discord in favour over having to be with someone whom you're in love with and to spend the rest of life with? In my world, this is unheard of. This decision lacks all the moral, and spiritual principles that I hold so dearly to my heart and soul. I am still quite astounded as to the outcome of this. Mice are more intelligent than this.

I still have a reason to believe that there could be an outside influence to this situation, one where it has been kept secret all this time. I need to know the truth!

It has been a couple months since we broke up and I am happy to say I have not seen her since. She used to work at the Movie theater near the mall, but she doesn't anymore. A friend of mine saw her last night-out for Halloween:

"Do you want to know what she was dressed as?" he asked- No, of course I didn't.

I don't know why people think I need that sort of information. My imagination provides plenty of reminders without specific reports from observers. Here is one I was reminded of this week:

How did I know she was leaving me for him? One day, about 4 pm-after school. She was standing next to a door talking to him. But as she talked she leaned forward and started playing with the buttons on his shirt. Not really looking at him-but looking at his chest (about eye level for her) and adjusting the buttons as if they were old friends and the habit was familiar to both of them. It was too intimate to be a mistake. That's when I knew.

When I see couples doing the little hands on/fingers searching things like this I am always reminded of her. It wasn't that she was that much into PDA, it was just that she liked to keep in contact that way-a hand on my sleeve, a foot against my leg-that sort of thing. I miss that.

Do I want to know what she was wearing?? Yeah, right

Things that have made me smile in the last few days:
  • My baby's smile. She knows how cute she is, damnit. She is making no effort to disguise the fact that she is manipulating me. When she smiles and grabs my finger with those strong little digits, casting sparkly grey eyes my way, i will kill to defend her. This is what mother bears feel like.
  • Orange and brown and yellow leaves drifting across the path through the park on my way to work. I think i would not be able to endure my job if i did not take the path through this park every morning.
  • The kids walking past my house on their way home from the party last night: "fuck you, Richard Nixon." "No, fuck you, Ronald Reagan." Sounds like a good party.
  • Corny anachronistic one-liners spouted by great leaders of history, in Civilization III. Talk about breaking the tension. What a great game.

Things that have made me want to hide away like Boo Radley, in the last few days:

  • Being blamed in a staff meeting for the inability of our dispatchers to multitask. This kind of thing makes my fur stand up. I start hissing and spitting. The day is ruined.
  • Once again, the crew of the Enterprise are acting like day-trippers, or to be more blunt about it, acting like the worst kind of tourists in the Middle East. "Oh, here's an ancient holy site, a monastery devoted to contemplative meditation in an atmosphere of solitude. Great, let's drop in and take some pictures." I can't believe how bad this show is. That's it, no more "Enterprise." There just aren't enough hours in my day.
  • Yet another round of stupid hoax e-mail warnings about terrorist attacks. As if we didn't have enough things to worry about, somebody had to go scaring the sheep. I'm glad the Internet was invented, for now every idiot on Earth can start his or her own nationwide bomb scare.
  • And of course, the ongoing situations in Afghanistan and Israel, and everybody who analyzes them to me. Hiss, spit. Repeat. Yes, i have to mention this - just because it's been going on for a while, doesn't mean we shouldn't think about it anymore.

You would think that teaching children would be fun...but it's not. Today was my first day substituting for a class of 6th graders...and it was only half a day! The kids were disruptive and there was even a fight that I had to break up. I was very stressed and it turns out I'm scheduled to take care of that class again tomorrow, for the whole day!

To make matters worse, it turns out that my sister opened up a letter that spread this white powder all over herself and in the car. She is at the hospital now and they have to run tests, no one is allowed to see her yet...I'm really scared.

Today I watched my boyfriend "Fred" pack up and get ready to leave the country for a week...maybe more. Underwear, socks, countless plaid and zaney shirts, jeans, and other various and assorted packing things.

As I watched him shave, a familiar "warm-fuzzy" feeling came over me. "I used to watch my father do this", I said out loud, then added "when I actually liked him". Its just something about watching a man you admire, shaving. Something so simple, yet so comforting.

I feel somewhat selfish in the sense I did not want him to leave. I hadn't even left his driveway, and already I missed him and longed to be in his arms again, if only for those few minutes. I also do worry, since I am female, and its just in my blood. "Will he make it there ok?" "Will he make it back ok?" "Will he BE OK????"

Love is making me lose my mind. I am scatterbrained, unorganized, even somewhat giddy. High school crushes all over again, little cute folded notes passed back and forth about the latest gossip, and talking on the phone untill 3am to your best friend about nothing but the "latest and greatest".

"Fred", just know, I am thinking about you, and have a great trip. I love you.

I had a good Halloween. I went trick-or-treating, and one of my friends had a costume that scared a couple little kids. (He was Superman, but with no head--the head was carried in his hand, and the "S" was taped on his shirt. I sewed the child-sized cape on his back.) I wore my anime convention costume, dressed as Sae Sawanoguchi from Maho Tsukai TAI, which is a bit like a modified witch costume. (My friend Ammy was dressed in a matching costume, as Sae's friend Nanaka, and my friend Brendon was an X-man who kept getting mistaken for Spider-Man.)

I've been trick-or-treating every year to date, possibly with the exception of my first Halloween, since I was only about nine months old at that point--I don't remember. I'll be twenty-four in January, so yes, I'm a bit old for this. But if you want a rant on that you'll have to find it elsewhere.

I was too tired after the trick-or-treating to do my Samhain ritual, so I took a nap and did it early this morning. I was very reluctant to clean up the mess I made afterwards, so I went to my apartment complex's renting office and talked to Leanna, the manager, about how to get my fifty-dollar credit on my rent. (I won the apartment complex's costume contest last week.) We ended up talking for a long time. I asked her if I was interrupting her work, and she was like "No, not at all, I don't really wanna work anyway," and I was like "I know what you mean, I don't feel like going home and cleaning up my apartment," and mentioned that I had a big mess from my ritual. She knew I was Pagan but she didn't know what that entailed, so she asked me, and I found out she was on a "spiritual quest" and wanted to know more.

She asked if I had any "literature," and I told her I'd go get a couple books to lend her from my apartment and would also, as a bonus, bring her a couple of the sweets I'd baked for the celebration. (One of those was my All Hallow's Eve cakes, which turned out great!) When I came back, someone else was in the office talking to her. He turned out to be George (well, I guess it was George, he was from Miami and had an accent so it might have been the Spanish spelling, but since he said "George" and not "Hore-hay" I suppose I am allowed to spell it "George"), and he happens to live one apartment away from me. He is also Pagan. That is odd, people are just turning out to be Pagan all over the place. We all talked for a while and went out to lunch together. Random invitations are fun. Incidentally, the two books I lent to Leanna were Scott Cunningham's Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner and The Truth about Witchcraft Today, because Cunningham's got a very straightforward way of answering questions.

George told me two Pagan jokes:

Q: How many Gardnerians does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: SHH! It's a secret!

Q: How many Alexandrians does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Ask the Gardnerians!


I have been getting a lot of random invitations lately. Today, random lunch with Leanna and George. Yesterday, tiny Halloween get-together with one of the girls I trick-or-treated with. (We didn't stay long, but we went.) The day before, random visitation from a friend bearing donuts. The day before THAT, an acquaintance of mine, a strange Christian-tattooed punk kid that I don't know well but see all the time, he offered me a ride to the grocery store when we met on the street, and he ended up at my house afterwards. And the day before THAT, I randomly invited an online friend over to bake with me, where we met for the first time. Before that, I had a visit from my friend Mike, but that was planned in advance. I am not an extraordinarily social person, but lately, my calendar has totally been full. It is weird.

I am also pleased that several of my seasonal-based nodes have received cool points and attention. To my fellow noders: A big thank-you to all the folks who cooled and read my nodes. :) I hope some of you tried my recipes for the season, everything I baked this time was yummy! (I made pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, All Hallow's Eve cakes, and molasses-ginger animal cookies, except I cut them in fall shapes since I had no animal cookie cutters!)

Today, which is still November first, is lo dia de los muertos or the day of the dead. I was talking with a friend of mine from Mejico and she was telling me that her family has a tradition: On All evening of Hallow'een they place a candle on the headstone of a loved one recently lost to show the departed that they are still thinking of. They then come back on the eve of dia de los muertos. If the candle is still burning it means the departed are still thinking about their living loved ones.

So, last evening after the Hallow'eening was done, I bought a candle at the corner store, orchid scented, lit it and placed it upon my sisters' headstone. After a short prayer, I left for the evening. Tonight, I went back.

It was still burning.

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