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I am...a New Yorker
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[Previous entry: "Busted"]

Friday, February 22, 2002
Too Proud to Beg
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Photographng...
Not who thnks I photographed them.

Watchng...
Harold and Maude, because it centers me. This movie IS my religion.

Sngng...
Along with Cat Stevens, probably because I'm a Hard-Headed Woman.

"I hope you make a lot of nice friends out there...Just remember there's a lot of bad and beware...ware."

"Lord, my body...has been a good friend. But I won't need it...when I reach the end."

"But sometimes you have to moan...or nothng seems to suit ya...but nevertheless you know...you're locked toward the future."

Cat Stevens, I honestly believe was touched by the hand of the creator. He knows.

Satisfyng...
A long talk with an old friend. Rosalnda, eras ora.

Seeng...
Through layers of bullshit tonight.

Disappontng...
Human nsecurity and needless ntrigue. I am naive and seek to connect, where others, actng n fear, can only feel good by brngng someone else down.

Make no mistake, I have survived more than you could ever dish out. I'm not the one to fuck with.

Realizng...
How sad, simple and small some people are. Yet I always have faith.

Talkng...
And scntillatng small mnds on what they thnk is personal, but which is but the tip of the iceberg that is me.

I am...givng up on a lot of people n my life of late, both old and new.

There's a funny thng about me. I hate most people. They bore the brans out of me, or else I fnd them stupid or petty. I would rather be alone -- readng, writng, creatng or even sleepng -- than spend time with most people. I've come to accept this and revel n my solitude, for the most part.

However, when I meet someone who is ntelligent, spiritual, deep -- I am so thankful and humbled. I want to get to know them, I thank heaven for sendng a like mnd my way, I feel blessed.

I am very bright, but on some level I am very naive. I expect such a person to feel equally happy to fnd someone they can talk with, create with, who can understand and encourage them.

What would never occur to me, not n a million years, is that someone like that would be jealous of me. Or have contempt for me. Or show contempt for me because, deep down, they are jealous. Or play games designed to hurt me, or to make me look foolish.

And this, too, shall pass.

. . .

I had a conversation with a very old friend tonight that, while perhaps a tad paranoid (on her part, for my behalf) -- illumnated a lot of thngs I've been tryng to figure out of late. There were a couple of people recently with whom I felt this sort of connection and so I expressed an nterest n gettng to know them better. I've been rebuffed and dismissed n this, but I honestly thought it was just a matter of bad timng and not beng able to coordnate schedules.

After a few months of effort, 99% on my part, it has fnally dawned on me that it's either not mutual or that there is lots of subtext gong on. Me no understand subtext.

. . .

I write about a lot of thngs here. I reread it constantly -- both to search for gems n my prose and to figure out if I've gone too far. My friend tonight told me that just sayng I am bisexual is ntensely personal. I don't fnd it so. Fuckng is so small a part of my life (now that is personal!), the fact that I refuse to elimnate 52% of the population is a pretty mnor consideration n my daily life or even n my grand plan. It's like tellng people I'm biracial and havng them react like I just told them some deep, dark secret. I have never, ever, ever understood that response. It is what is, it is not earth-shatterng.

Personal would be statng who my one, true love is that I've only ever admitted to one person. Personal would be revealng an embarrassng physical problem.

Personal isn't revealng thngs others have done to me. I don't mention that I've been beaten to a pulp to elicit sympathy or to feel depressed. It is what was and forms who I am now. As difficult as certan situations n my life are at the moment, I remnd myself what it was like to have a man twice my size beatng me to the ground and kickng me once I was down there. No matter what happens, no matter what mistakes I make -- no one will ever have me on the floor agan, prayng for the sweet relief of death. I know pan and frustration, but I remember Fang's words -- never despair, never surrender.

Those behaviors reflect on them and their fear, not on me and my outlook -- which is that we are here to connect with one another and grow. It's terribly sad to me that, n this lonely world, others have more convoluted and snister agendas, but life is about takng the good with the bad and dong your best.

I've no ntention of becomng Machiavellian and playng along. It may not seem the best route n the short run. I would rather be a flawed me on the road to fnd out, than a seemngly perfect facade, hidng a decayed frame and foundation. I know my slate is clean.

[Next entry: "Censorng, Doubtng, but Hopng"]
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