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fredericksAll bets are off. I'm getting over a cold/flu thing and don't particularly feel like writing anything at the moment but I'm hoping to get something from this so here goes. Most incoherent entry ever.
I suppose I should start with my birthday. I didn't expect anything at all (which is how I basically live my life, not expecting anything in order not to be disappointed), and that's why I ended up cooking the night before: to give myself something to look forward to. Gatherings/celebrations in my house always centered around food. I thought, hey, short of throwing a party why not just feed my roommates spicy curry and indian sweets? So I did. I enjoyed the food immensely and they took seconds, so I suppose they didn't mind it. I forced most of the remainder off on Ozzie because I'd made way too much.
The next day I woke up and headed to Tealuxe to get some preliminary reading done before meeting with Wincze. I gave that up after maybe an hour and headed back to my room. No card from my folks, no word from home (because Mom was pulling overtime and my brothers, like typical males of the household, don't know how to operate a phone). Hmm. This entry is making no sense. The day actually wasn't bad. My folks did call later on, I picked up The Animatrix and The Truth About Cats and Dogs (good movie *and* on sale for only $6), two of my aunts called, and I opened up the grandparents cards which I'd received two days before (they're nothing if not punctual).
What I started thinking about, 2 Sam Adams and a quarter bottle of Zinfandel later, was what birthdays mean to me. I always felt like they were a celebration of one's humanity and (more importantly) life, and wrapped up in that was my subconscious belief that what makes you real and alive, or rather, what validates all of that, is the reaction one gets from others. Interaction perhaps, or maybe just an acknowledgment of one's existence. No, I swear I'm not inebriated now, I'm just being obtuse (not deliberately). Long, rambling, drunken conversation with myself in a nutshell - I napalm the bridges I've crossed, I don't just burn them. And it's days like those, like my b-day, that it hits home. 9 out of 10 days I'm alone and it's fine. It's days like my birthday, when I'm stuck in Providence working on something that makes me feel like an idiot with hardly anyone to turn to that I feel lonely AND alone. And, alcohol or no, that's not a good mix.
Saturday evening I joined one of my aunt's, my uncle, and my cousin up at that bastion of morality, Foxwoods Casino. They'd reserved a room and invited me to join them. I dolled myself up and moseyed, taking Greyhound down there (I remember now why I stopped taking the bus between school and home and started with the train; the thing smelled like dirty armpits). I didn't spend much time on the casino floor - I'd brought $80 but knew how fast that slipped between your fingers when you're on a slot machine, and the stench of cigarette smoke and desperation that permeates the place is nauseating - but instead wandered around with my jailbait cousin, avoiding sketchy old men (C-, if you're reading this, I kid, I kid; you're a sweet girl). The entire excursion was rather enjoyable, if only as a change of pace from the monotony of my days in Providence. And, right before we left, I won $100 (just don't ask how much I lost).
So we left from there on Sunday and met up with my folks and grandfolks at Glutton Central, aka The Nordic Lodge. It's a buffet, what can I say? These places always turn me off. There's only so much food you can take in at one time, no matter how much you pay. But I have to hand it to these people, their food is always really really good. I'll have to walk from here to San Francisco to burn off that meal, I swear. I suppose it was a celebration of my birthday, my brother's birthday, my two other brother's graduations, and Father's Day. Got all of them out of the way in one fell swoop. Darwent felt it his mission to eat his bill's worth of food, to my amusement. His battle cry was "it's not over yet!" and he'd push his plate to the side while rising to revisit the food area. All of us at the kid's table (ha, yes, I was at the Kid's Table) had tapped out and he still continued to shovel food into his mouth. Oh, he was hurting by the end of the night. Don't get me wrong, all of us ate too much, but him...think of Homer during The Simpsons episode when they were at the steakhouse and Homer took on the trucker in attempting to eat the massive steak - that glassy-eyed stare and unhinged jaw Homer had at the end of the night? It was all Darwent, man. He was so uncomfortable that when my folks dropped me off at the apartment and everyone else came up to see the place he asked to stay in the car and sleep. I forgot to call him the next day and see how he was feeling. Hee hee.
The last couple days have sort of passed by in a blur of fever and phlegm (TMI, I'm sure, but I don't care). I was feeling a bit better yesterday so went to Staples and picked up a CD rewritable drive and after cussing up a storm managed to install it. I've somehow managed to restrain myself and have only burned 3 CDs but I'm sensing the itch to do more. It's like crack. Must...make...more...compliations.
I'm still feenin' for Queer as Folk. No cable, to access to the newest episodes, and the bulletin board up at TWoP (thanks for showing me the way, D.) is now closed up/kaput. I had lots of fun posting there, discussing the show seriously or just shooting the breeze. I've been watching the boxed set but it's not the same. I suppose I should scour the web but some of the fans of the show are really nuts (not just sort of nuts like myself). Luckily I managed to touch base with a fan that's cool and will be my light during this time of QaF darkness (hopefully, maybe).
See, this time I wasn't lying. Most incoherent post ever.
I suppose I should start with my birthday. I didn't expect anything at all (which is how I basically live my life, not expecting anything in order not to be disappointed), and that's why I ended up cooking the night before: to give myself something to look forward to. Gatherings/celebrations in my house always centered around food. I thought, hey, short of throwing a party why not just feed my roommates spicy curry and indian sweets? So I did. I enjoyed the food immensely and they took seconds, so I suppose they didn't mind it. I forced most of the remainder off on Ozzie because I'd made way too much.
The next day I woke up and headed to Tealuxe to get some preliminary reading done before meeting with Wincze. I gave that up after maybe an hour and headed back to my room. No card from my folks, no word from home (because Mom was pulling overtime and my brothers, like typical males of the household, don't know how to operate a phone). Hmm. This entry is making no sense. The day actually wasn't bad. My folks did call later on, I picked up The Animatrix and The Truth About Cats and Dogs (good movie *and* on sale for only $6), two of my aunts called, and I opened up the grandparents cards which I'd received two days before (they're nothing if not punctual).
What I started thinking about, 2 Sam Adams and a quarter bottle of Zinfandel later, was what birthdays mean to me. I always felt like they were a celebration of one's humanity and (more importantly) life, and wrapped up in that was my subconscious belief that what makes you real and alive, or rather, what validates all of that, is the reaction one gets from others. Interaction perhaps, or maybe just an acknowledgment of one's existence. No, I swear I'm not inebriated now, I'm just being obtuse (not deliberately). Long, rambling, drunken conversation with myself in a nutshell - I napalm the bridges I've crossed, I don't just burn them. And it's days like those, like my b-day, that it hits home. 9 out of 10 days I'm alone and it's fine. It's days like my birthday, when I'm stuck in Providence working on something that makes me feel like an idiot with hardly anyone to turn to that I feel lonely AND alone. And, alcohol or no, that's not a good mix.
Saturday evening I joined one of my aunt's, my uncle, and my cousin up at that bastion of morality, Foxwoods Casino. They'd reserved a room and invited me to join them. I dolled myself up and moseyed, taking Greyhound down there (I remember now why I stopped taking the bus between school and home and started with the train; the thing smelled like dirty armpits). I didn't spend much time on the casino floor - I'd brought $80 but knew how fast that slipped between your fingers when you're on a slot machine, and the stench of cigarette smoke and desperation that permeates the place is nauseating - but instead wandered around with my jailbait cousin, avoiding sketchy old men (C-, if you're reading this, I kid, I kid; you're a sweet girl). The entire excursion was rather enjoyable, if only as a change of pace from the monotony of my days in Providence. And, right before we left, I won $100 (just don't ask how much I lost).
So we left from there on Sunday and met up with my folks and grandfolks at Glutton Central, aka The Nordic Lodge. It's a buffet, what can I say? These places always turn me off. There's only so much food you can take in at one time, no matter how much you pay. But I have to hand it to these people, their food is always really really good. I'll have to walk from here to San Francisco to burn off that meal, I swear. I suppose it was a celebration of my birthday, my brother's birthday, my two other brother's graduations, and Father's Day. Got all of them out of the way in one fell swoop. Darwent felt it his mission to eat his bill's worth of food, to my amusement. His battle cry was "it's not over yet!" and he'd push his plate to the side while rising to revisit the food area. All of us at the kid's table (ha, yes, I was at the Kid's Table) had tapped out and he still continued to shovel food into his mouth. Oh, he was hurting by the end of the night. Don't get me wrong, all of us ate too much, but him...think of Homer during The Simpsons episode when they were at the steakhouse and Homer took on the trucker in attempting to eat the massive steak - that glassy-eyed stare and unhinged jaw Homer had at the end of the night? It was all Darwent, man. He was so uncomfortable that when my folks dropped me off at the apartment and everyone else came up to see the place he asked to stay in the car and sleep. I forgot to call him the next day and see how he was feeling. Hee hee.
The last couple days have sort of passed by in a blur of fever and phlegm (TMI, I'm sure, but I don't care). I was feeling a bit better yesterday so went to Staples and picked up a CD rewritable drive and after cussing up a storm managed to install it. I've somehow managed to restrain myself and have only burned 3 CDs but I'm sensing the itch to do more. It's like crack. Must...make...more...compliations.
I'm still feenin' for Queer as Folk. No cable, to access to the newest episodes, and the bulletin board up at TWoP (thanks for showing me the way, D.) is now closed up/kaput. I had lots of fun posting there, discussing the show seriously or just shooting the breeze. I've been watching the boxed set but it's not the same. I suppose I should scour the web but some of the fans of the show are really nuts (not just sort of nuts like myself). Luckily I managed to touch base with a fan that's cool and will be my light during this time of QaF darkness (hopefully, maybe).
See, this time I wasn't lying. Most incoherent post ever.
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-18 12:03 pm (UTC)Heh. Yes.
The last couple days have sort of passed by in a blur of fever and phlegm
Stop following me.
Hope your grip on sanity is not as far gone as mine... yet. You've classified yourself as a sort-of nut. That's clever, I like it.
my subconscious belief that what makes you real and alive, or rather, what validates all of that, is the reaction one gets from others
How can you be so honest...
Didn't it hurt to post that?
Hmm
Date: 2003-06-19 07:20 am (UTC)Well, no. I'm a faceless being on an internet medium. It was actually fairly easy to post that. Was I hurting *when* I posted it? Yeah, cramps and aching joints, and I suppose that might have led to the rambling bit of LJ-ness that my entry morphed into.
I joined this thing in order to be honest in a public manner, in a way that I find difficult to do outside of a PC. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'm too sick to care. Heh. :-)