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