To Cry or Not To Cry, That is how pathetic
01/23/2005 05:48 a.m.
"It's ok to cry..."

My immediate thought, *What? Why? I'm the strong one. I'm the rock, the big sister, I can't cry. I'm the mother. I can't let criers down by crying. I can't admit weakness. I can't. And you're saying I can?.....

I can?

(Q:)But why would you want to hold a girl who is crying?*




Sometimes what I feel makes no sense, which has no bearing on me feeling it.


(Answer:) *For the same reason I hold them...*
I am listening to the voice in my head telling me to study.

Comments (0)

Nonsense
01/18/2005 05:22 a.m.
God I'm so sick from all the stress!! I feel like All I ever want to do ever again is be held. So many provincials... such a feeling of inadequacy... I hate this. I hate this! I feel like I can't keep doing this... I feel like crying for no reason. I wanna sing it all away. I wanna cry it all away. I have no time for the people I miss, like Becca of Barbara or Jen. I hate that. I just wanna breathe...
I am currently Overwhelmed

Comments (1)

"Hanging out comfortably on first", etc.
12/16/2004 12:19 a.m.
Don't worry about my opinions anymore. I'm not your umpire, your teacher, your score keeper, your diary, your counsellor or your mother. I'm not any of those things, to you or for you, and if I ever was, you obviously don't need any of it. I'm "fine," and thats all that has to count.
I am currently Stunned

Comments (0)

...
12/15/2004 01:56 a.m.
I want to wretch out my insides everytime we misunderstand eachother and don't know what to say or whether there's anything to be said. I need to be held in the sense that I feel as if right now I need arms to support me emotionally. Right now, I can't support myself under the crush. I feel like I'm 12 and gawky and graceless and ugly and wrong. I don't know who's fault anything is, and I don't wanna blame so I blame the seasons and the cold outside.

More than anything else, I'm deathly afraid of being forgotten again. Talking to Geordie, he let me know how many things I used to do that bothered him so much he couldn't stand me sometimes, and I cried when I hung up the phone. I loved him, and I had no idea he ever felt that. and I loved him.... oh god. He told me he's forgotten how or why he ever loved me. He's not trying to be mean. It was never his intent either. But not only how he ever loved me, but why. He can't see why he ever loved me and oh god, if theres anything that's terrified me it's the thought that "what is he forgets why he loves me? What if he starts to love me out of habit? Like Geordie?" Oh God, to be forgotten again... How can someone forget when they're in love?
I am currently Depressed

Comments (0)

SoftCore
12/12/2004 05:22 a.m.
What a weird night at work, lol. I'm a busgirl at a local 24 hr restaurant for those who don't know, and last night was so odd. There was a 16 year old guy server on shift with me, which was so strange because guys don't usually work the graveyard shift with me and my supervisor. He was a dinner shift guy and all together too uptight for graveyard. Then this very snobby chick, about 19, wouldn't even look at Katrina when she went to take her order. She was finicky about her food, and when her chicken caesar came she said (loud enough for people in other sections to hear), "This chicken caeser is absolutely disgusting! The parmasean is fake, the chicken takes raw and the dressing tastes like the cooks used cum instead of caesar. I won't eat this." I was like "!!!!" Also, there was softcore porn on one of our tvs all night long. I didn't chnage the channel because some of the customers were actually watching it, and I didn't wanna get heckled for it, so I pretended not to notice, and so did everyone else, lol. Everytime I looked up, there was some lame plot line or a topless chick riding a guy on tv. The other tvs were playing football. I worked until 6 am, so a 7 hour shift. Tonight barbara and tim are coming in, dressed up as their characters "Delilha" and "Humphry." The story goes, Delilha is a devout christian on her first blind date with Humphry, a German horndog. And they'll be in costume. lol, hurray.

So I had this discussion with Jordan the other night about whether I take peoples promises to themselves more strongly than they do. I felt kind of attacked at first, because his tone was so suddenly accusing, and irritated at me, as if he'd noticed it for so long and it's pissed him off for sometime. I think it affected me the same way little, poking-fun insults affect him. It was just sorta stinging coming from the person whos supposed to take care of you. I ended up giving him the cold shoulder without even realizing it. I'm writing this because the episode is kinda stuck in my mind. When I think about it though, I think he's right. He said "maybe you're a better person than me for caring so much, but..." and that made me think. I told him what I think pisses me off is that people get into trouble, tell me, promise themselves things, then break their promises, get introuble again, and tell me again. The whole thing kinda made me realize how much we still don't know. There are still little things we need to learn in order to really take care of eachother. I realized later that he wasn't trying to jab me with it. It's like when I tell him things again that I've told him before, I feel so stupid, because I have so many things going on at school and so many stresses from so many angles that I forget who I tell what, and I can tell it bugs him, and I'm not quite how to make him see that it's just the time of year, just the schoolwork, the courseload, the family stuff. I wish people would just laugh when I do stupid things, you know? Just be friendly about it. It's like hey, I already feel dumb for being an idiot, lol, no need for backup. All in all, I like funny awkward moments in retrospect. You can tell alot more about people by the places where there's friction than you can about places where it's smooth sailing. Thats why me and geordie died. There was no friction, hence, we knew nothing about what eachother was really like. I'd much rather get into tiffs here and there, get and recieve apologies, and move on than never have a hitch.

Speaking of apologies, I realized again that if all guys knew the wonders of a sincere apology, divorce rates and resentment would plummet. For example, I was pissed off last night because one of my regulars was holding on to the vacuum on purpose while I was trying to clean (not THAT regular, different one). When I came back and saw him I was so irritated (he knew that that bothered me), so I just grabbed the hose, told him harshly to sit down and kept doing my job, mad. When him and his pal were leaving, he came up to me and said, very casually "Hey, I'm sorry to make you mad, I was playing around. I won't do it next time." BANG, resentment gone. All things forgiven, that easy. That was it. Honestly, that was all he had to do to get out of the doghouse with me. As dorky as that kid is, he's gonna make some girl happy, lol.

So a word for all you guys out there, single or not, looking or not, when dealing with most females (moms, aunts, sisters, grandmas, wives, girlfriends), memorize these words:

[With sincerity]
"I'm Sorry."
I am currently Cute

Comments (1)

Where are my Words
12/10/2004 04:30 a.m.
Where has it all gone? The words surface themselves in the fragments, the stanzas are bent out of shape. All those broken syllables just boil in my head. Inide the fourwalls of my skull it sounds like the television turned to the french channel... I get the gist, but not quite coherently.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What have a proved this year? to anyone? I feel like such a wreck. I feel like all these years I've been an impostor. I feel like someone has ratted me out.

Where are the shiny gold As on the report card? Where's my reply from the big scholarship HQ? Where's my lead role, my chance to prove that I can act too? Where's my music gone? Where are all the things that this year was supposed to be? Why can't I pull it all together?

And she's there, behind it all, it seems. What a miserable failure I am here, dying in so many shadows. Drowning.

"And how are you guys doing?"
"Good."
"Good... Trish, your [dark, half asian] hair's getting so long..."

Comments (0)

Filleted
11/26/2004 05:54 a.m.
The arts are pissing me off this year. Musical theatre was shithole. Pardon me. It was rather irritating. One should not voice one's anger towards musical theatre in musical theatre. To do so would be counter productive. People were jerks. People did nothing. People complained like they do every year and then broke into jokes or games with themselves or screamed, seemingly just to hear their own shrill little voices. I felt like 100 000 people were yelling in my ear "Trish you look tired, Trish you look tired."

"I am."

"Oh... ok!"

Jordan came and saved me. Barbara was a definate accomplice. I love you guys. I wanted to crawl under a rock. I reminded myself of the little sea crabs I held in my hand at Bamfield Marine Biology Centre. All of a sudden this little crab found itself in a situation were there was no big rocks, and all the little guy had was this "hard exoskeleton" that was supposed to keep him safe. I think he knew that his circumstances, me, could crush that stupid false sense of security. That was me. That fragment of time swooped down and swept me up and there I was, looking for a rock, seeing no rock, and trying to be invisible with my status like an exoskeleton. I'm a cancer. Maybe this is why I identify.

Adams back in the combo. That story is long and makes me angry in a way, and I've told enough anger stories for a bit. Anyway, he's back, and being "Adam." Being "Adam" basically means wanting everything around him to "Be Adam" too. But not so "Adam" that you steal his light. He's a drummer. I miss Mike in the combo. Mike existed without quotation marks, and that made us all smile.

Being with Jordan doesn't cease to make my day better. Do you believe that? One year later, seeing his face, expectedly or not, elates me. I hate my glasses. He "caught" me without them today. I mean, he caught me feeling stupid and tired and crab-like and feeling ugly because of my glasses. And it was odd, because I felt like he thought I was ugly. And then I realized that was in MY mind and not his. I have this thing where I forget that love goes two ways. Jordan could wear whatever he wanted, dress how ever he pleased, wear any kind of glasses in the world and not a single thing would change for me, except I'd probably make some wise ass comment about his new digs. Then I'd drop it and ask him where he wanted to eat, haha. But yeah, I have this thing where I think "oh no, he 'caught' me. What now??" Which is preposterous. Maybe that just stems from before, when EVERY little thing mattered, because all of our moods were on hypersensitivity and everything MEANT something. It was like "ooh what does that mean? What does that mmeeeaaaannn...???"

He tells me that I'm beautiful. He also tells me that I'm strange. He seems to like both of those.

Today in bio there was a book on the desk of human anatomy with real pictures of real people filleted for scientific research. They were pulled apart layer by layer like onions to show skin, muscle goups, internal organs, eyes... So many cross sections of necks and shoulders and legs and even cocks. The eyes were glazed over. I had never seen what a dead persons eyes really look like before. They were couldy, and very black underneath the cloud. There was a picture of live or maybe just "fresh" female genitalia, splayed for scientific reseach and such, and all I thought was "What a thing to endure, live or dead. Spread yourself out on some table for science, or worse, have someone else spread those dead legs." The preface noted that these "specimens" were "carefully chosen for their normalness." Kinda made me think "hey, when I die, is someone from a lab honna look at my body and go 'You know Pete, I just don't think this one's quite NORMAL enough for the book...'"

Today was strange. I'd like to explore tomorrow.


I am currently Better

Comments (0)

Yo
11/11/2004 07:48 a.m.
Man.... I like hip hop. And R&B. I'm listening to little collabo of Alicia Keys (*drool*, she is AWESOME) and Usher (*drool*... in all senses). And I love the "down" feeling of it. Perfect.
For this mood anyways.

Comments (0)

Raisin Boy and Stress
11/03/2004 06:38 a.m.
That boy, Carson. What an example of what money can do to a person. I think he may just be the most pretentious person I have ever met, and with the people I meet, that's saying alot. Kathleen, Becca, for putting up with him and not becoming that yourselves, I'm thoroughly impressed. He's the perfect example of an ignorant child and a compassionless narcissist fused into one socially fashionable package, complete with social circle and GQ pose to boot. I wonder how many cuts at family income he could make at me in a minute. I wonder what he considers me as. Ha. And the sad thing is that underneath there's this tiny shrivelled raisin of a man that should be occupying the space between his ears and instead has been shifted on the priority list and now takes up residence in his appendix or tailbone or something. And you can tell that that little atrophied man could have grown up into less of a mongrel than the resultant wise cracking shell. Except Carson put that man in his ass-bone. Great for you buddy. Your human capacity to feel for individuals other than yourself is now the equivalent of a single dehydrated grape, and the best you can do to remedy the situation is laugh at the mentally handicapped kids.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

---------------------------------------------------------

Life and this void has sucked me down into a mass churning with engery waiting to rush outside into the cold air and scream and beg for a christmas that offers 2 weeks of nothingness to remedy this ache. I am writing for the soul purpose of allowing my thoughts to breathe, or more liklely, wedging space between them like nails into blocks of concrete, making roon where really, there is none. All I want is to relax and not have to be anywhere. All I want is to not have to stare at a pile of books in the evening, to not have to actually physically carry the weigh of it all on my shoulders like a metaphor gone wrong. I want to be close to him, because it makes me feel easy and safe, like he can scare away the days stresses. All I want is to have Jen here again. All I want is to do well... to not be a failure... to not be a waste.

ha, like Carson's raisin.


I am currently Overwhelmed

Comments (0)

Dear Elina
11/02/2004 02:38 a.m.
Before, I used to look at you and hate you. I hated all you stood for. Everything you embodied made me want to kill you, or hurt you in some way. I wanted you to trust me so that I could violate it the way you did. I wanted you to hurt. I wanted to wreck that pretty face of yours so that you had no more crutch to lean against when the world was against you. I wanted to take the vibrato out of your voice. I wanted you to hear everything anyone had ever said about you that wasn't commenting on your pretty pretty face. I wanted you to realize that aside from your face and your voice, people had nothing good to say. I wanted to make you cry. I've never wanted to hurt anyone like I've wanted to hurt you. Your life looks like an act, a scene, a play. You are the character you wish to be in every play. The heroine. The star. I wanted you to fall of your pedastal and realize that your wings are no better fit than mine. I dont want your fame. I never really did.

Now I look at you and I feel nothing. It's like there was such a sweep of rage through me that now a breeze, a single breeze has blown the ashes and char away. Now there is nothing left. Hate has burned a hole in me and there is nothing there but void and loss. I've lost even the image of what I thought you were. I burned it all away and now theres this permanent gaping wound thats been cauterized and you're shape is traced in relief. In negative space. That negative space is just there, inside me, with the wind whistling through it like the moans of a cave. I realize now that all I ever wanted you to be is real. All I ever wanted was for you to come to school with no make up. For you to wear sweats. For you to sing a note wrong and laugh about it. All I ever really really wanted was to be a child with you and run around and do handstands and cartwheels and laugh and joke and not be proper. Not be anything but girls together.

I miss what I remember of you. That fake with glimpses of authentic pieces fleeting like shadows between the trees at nightfall. Those authentic little pieces of the person I thought I knew... they ran like water between my fingers and out of my hands.

I look at you and I see nothing now. We catch eachothers eye and scream and cry for just an instant before i turn away, unable to bear more tears in your name. Why should I cry for nothing but a hole in me? I look at you and ache for a real live person to put there, whos shaped the way you are so that I can feel real again.

Hate has burned me away and left you sobbing. How can I fix it? How can I fix you? How can I show you that all we want you to be is not this plastic doll with a perfect laugh? That we want to see you scrawl your name in pen for once and not in neon lights? This hate has almost ebbed away and the bitterness will soon follow.

Then I wont even have ashes to fill the air with.



Comments (0)

Next 10 Entries - Previous 10 Entries