January 23rd, 2003


(no subject)

Yesterday morning when my alarm clock went off, I didn't know what it meant. I couldn't understand what it was, why it was making so much noise, and how to stop it. Somehow I thought it was just some weird obtrusive clock that somehow got left in my room. And how weird it was that it would just pop on with that horrible noise all on its own.
5 days of not having to answer to it spoiled me a little, I think. It's funny to keep an eye on the 'changes in friends' stuff.
Watching the people you've recently deleted (for any number of reasons. Most of them having to do with a simple lack of things of personal interest to be read in their journal) realize you've deleted them and reciprocate is just bizarre.
You've been on my friends list. You know I very very rarely make friends only posts and haven't done so in quite a few months. If you actually wanted to read this crap in the first place, you'd have just kept me on the list, it wouldn't have mattered that it wasn't reciprocated.

I dunno. I understand it intellectually, but not immediately. I get why a person would do that. But I don't get why it actually matters to them, or rather... why it SHOULD.
Same old shit on the LJ front, just a different day.

Though I have to say, I was pretty sure that I expressed myself in text more effectively than it *seems* I have recently.
Meaning I know that I've expressed myself just fine.
It's just gone over or under or around or been avoided on purpose.

(no subject)

A few notes on trying to talk to my father about taxes
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But I should be getting back a really decent return, which is good and much needed as I'm still pretty wiped out financially.

It snowed most of the day today. Temperatures are supposed to be in the very low teens tonight and early tomorrow morning. I'm thinking of getting some of those flannel footie pajamas and wearing them over my work clothes, as there's just no such thing as a pair of warm khakis.

And besides... hey... footie pajamas.

Not nearly as melancholy as I sound. Just thinking.

Nell Carter died today. That leaves me very sad.

Then I actually watched an entire episode of Good Morning Miami. And that left me pretty horrified.
Everything about love and romance and those deeper levels of actual meaningful interaction boiled down into 20 minutes of bad acting, horrible writing, and piles and piles of the most offensively vile glop.
I am disgustingly jaded when it comes to love.
I've pretty much decided that I'm incapable of it.
Not of giving it, of course. But of entering into that sort of pact with someone.
I love my friends. I love some of my friends more than I thought it was possible to love people at all. Ever.
I love parts of my family in such a familiar way that it doesn't even register as such most of the time.
I can love things and places. I become passionately attached to all manner of things and people.

But when it comes to actual romantic love... I dunno. I used to say that I just wasn't built for it. That's not true. I'm custom fucking made.
The thing is, most people aren't worth it. They aren't worth my time, my effort. They certainly aren't worth my heart on a platter. It's rare enough to find people I enjoy having CONVERSATIONS with, let alone someone with whom I could ever connect with in a way that leaves me without question and without reservation about every inch of who and what they are and I am and we are.
Even thinking about all that sort of makes my shoulders scrunch up.

I've gotten sort of close. Heh. I've fooled myself alot. I've decided to accept less than I need for chunks of time and it's done nothing but leave me worse for the wear.
So I'm bitter, jaded, untrusting, cynical, and either far too quick to judge or absolutely the last to realize that I really should have been judging.
And sometimes I really dislike that about myself. There are times when I get into huge berating modes where all I can think is how fucking horrible I am and can be to people. And I resolve to be better, be nicer, just fucking love more. But there are reasons for every little nick and scratch on my rose colored glasses.
I earned them all.
Which is nothing at all like *deserving* them all.
Sort of like the difference between acknowledging how jaded and bitter and curled in I am and actually enjoying it or trying to further it.

And that's why I should never watch things like Good Morning Miami. Becuase it takes one of those incredibly big things that I know I want, feel I won't ever have, and makes it into a punchline.
a poorly written punchline.

(no subject)

OE (and not the kind that comes in a forty) won't let me download an attachment. And I can't figure out how to let it allow me to decide what I fucking want to download and what I don't.
And my chest hurts.

going to bed.