Mne's been pretty borng lately, but check out Blanepear's:
You overflow with imagnation, passion and all the other attributes of a Water Sign at high tide. Wnnng is nevitable when the Moon is n Cancer. Be gentle with the feelngs of those who fall hopelessly n love with you.
Are you acceptng this offer or not? Somebody wants you, but he or she is tired of waitng. People afraid of commitment fnd excuses for not takng the plunge. Remember this moment if you end up alone or with the wrong partner.
I don't know the Greek Geek's sign, so I couldn't check.
At home, both meals. I feel like I've been grounded. Let this be a lesson to me.
Not much of anythng -- it's been friggn' hot.
The entire theme to Square Pegs. "Always, never, quite right." I am a geek among geeks and the loneliest of lonely hearts. The crazy part is expectng it to change somehow.
Why it is that every one I've encountered loves this fake, panful, time-consumng, impractical hair so fuckng much? Someone even told me it's "more you than that short hair." It's so very not me!
Remember that photo, gentle readers, because it's not long for my head.
hittng a great wall of sadness the last few days. I didn't expect to hit fnancial hurdles so soon, but I've been sleepwalkng through the last 6 months of my life and not really payng attention to whether or not I ever mailed that check. I was makng more money than I ever had before, but somehow I fell more behnd than ever.
I don't know where it all went. Except for that trip to New Orleans, which I did n the most bargan basement way I could, I don't go anywhere or do anythng, don't eat at expensive restaurants, wear expensive clothes ($30 is a lot for me to spend on any one piece, $10-15 is my average), have a taste for jewelry or really get nto any big ticket items. Much to my surprise, my mom decided not to have me pay her back for the laptop.
I've always been stupid with money, but shit! I've joked recently that this whole workng, beng ndependent and takng pride n my bran was an utterly bankrupt ideology. I fnd myself wishng I'd been born prettier, so I could've traded it for a life of material comfort. It's ironic, snce Blanepear asked me a few weeks ago, "Don't all women consider that at some pont?" and I scoffed at the notion and was nsulted.
The truth is, I had the opportunity twice. There was just somethng so degradng and seedy about it, that it turned my stomach. Also, it pissed me off that I should be strugglng so when I had so much to offer the world, while some schmuck n the right place at the right time has so much money he can support not just himself, but a wife, family and a mistress. It makes you wonder where the justice is n the universe.
The Blanepears n my past, and there are plenty because they've always been my type, have always complaned to me that no one wanted them because they were poor or couldn't attract anyone. Fang says they were put on this earth specifically to torment me!
Meanwhile, the dumb, macho types pursue me relentlessly. It got to a pont when I lived n San Francisco, that I felt like some celebrity who could not leave the house without beng followed. Except, you know, without the personal stylist, beautiful home and obscenely fat bank account. . . .
The title of this entry refers to how I've been feelng the last day or two. I have been unemployed for a week and a half, but it feels like much longer. The man reason for this is that I miss a few of the people I worked closely with. I thought I'd see them outside of work. I thought this particularly of Blanepear, once he realized that I wasn't a narc and particularly snce I'm no longer n a position to be anyway. I haven't had anyone to talk with on that level snce college; I just don't meet people who can have such conversations everyday and so I'm really missng it.
But he's not the only one. There was a mutual friend who always had a knd word for me. A few weeks ago, I told him it bothered me that Blanepear never asked me to do anythng, even though he was usually game to go out for lunch. He'd see Bp talkng with me so often that he didn't thnk that was the case at all. It's that way for most of my friendships, I feel like a plate-spnner and if I don't do the contactng, a lot of people I thnk of as my friends would just let the plates crash to the floor. He said if I always did the callng, then the other person would never do so, because they knew I would always do all the work. I've been meanng to thank him for that moment of clarity, but he doesn't return my calls or emails.
I don't need a truckload of friends, but I do get sick of gong to the movies alone. Everytime I go on a trip, I dread beng asked who I went with or who I went to see, because there is rarely anyone on the other end.
I can accept that I am meant to be a spnster, but goddamn it -- where is the Shirley to my Laverne? Fang is the closest I have, but she's n love at the moment. When she's not, we talk of our long life together as spnsters, and I forget that she's had 4 boyfriends n the 7 years I've known her. She may not be Suzy Homemaker, like other people I used to know, but she hasn't spent her entire adult life truly alone. I'm not tryng to dismiss anyone's pan, but it's not the same thng when it's at least broken up with some ntervals of togetherness. I've thought recently that it must be devastatng to love someone, only to lose them or their love. But it's not exactly a laugh riot to have never been loved at all.
When I look ahead nto this endless abyss of alone, I cannot see the pont n workng just to pay bills to get through the day. I don't even see much pont n writng these endless words out nto this one-way void. What does it accomplish n the end? Is it takng me anywhere?
Sure, some time hence, I'll write of the beauty of a flower, the awesome sights I pass n this grand city, the magic of a child, and even a (mistaken) sense of connection with some new Blanepear. But n the end, there is just me and swell though I thnk I am, I'm not sure if that is enough.
Why have I been given so many words, but no one to share them with?
[Next entry: "Communng With my Species"]
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