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And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing |
Here's to wanting to post more frequently, if anything just for the outlet. Like written trepanation. It's nice to be in touch with my feelings a little bit, to force it into black and white if only to see the glaring lack of dimension and appreciate my craziness. We just got home recently from weight training at the gym, Suzy, Sierra and I. I went in to the bedroom to take off my shoes and Sierra was in there in her underwear so I asked her what one of her dreams was. She said to be happy with herself. When she returned the question, I answered that I wanted to get to a point where I didn't think I was crazy. Or to not be crazy. She suggested getting used to being crazy, and I argued that there are good crazies and bad crazies and if I could just get rid of my bad ones, it'd be so much better. But I think in fact, I'm a little attached to them even if they make me feel awful sometimes. They are kind of unique. Like me. Sometimes. On the way back from the gym, S and S struck up a conversation about lesbians and how some are really sexy and how they wished sometimes they were gay or bi and I felt really weird. I wasn't offended or anything, but it's kind of hard hearing a lot of "You = other" talk. I guess that's what I get for being middle class, white, educated... it has to be my turn eventually. I'm pretty sure they know by now that I'm bi or at least uncategorized, just by my jargon. I guess it's not that important. Would they have had that conversation if I'd been dating a girl? Or just not dating Theo? Hm who knows. Guess it's not so important. I have yet to talk about this stuff with the parents. Don't know that it's such a hot issue with me for now, especially since they're so okay with everything. Except maybe my dream not to have an important job. That might be hard for them to accept outside of theory. I'm thinking of putting more photos up on fotki. Maybe I'll link 'em up here. I don't think enough people read this to fear another stalker period in my life, and then maybe it will be entertaining for people who stumble along. Stumbling along is such a perfect way of describing my path in life. Emotionally, Mentally, and Physically clumsy. At least some people find it endearing more than I see it as obnoxious. Guess it's worse when it's happening to you, no matter how awful empathetic embarrassment can be.
Crazies and Lesbians at 9:55 a.m.
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