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My heart is never fuller than when I drink or when I'm off my meds. Only when I'm off the juice I don't feel so strongly and when I'm off my meds I keep trying to kill myself. I'm a bit drunk right now, but it makes me feel so good. I absolutely love everybody in this moment. Why isn't reality this sweet? Perhaps reality was this sweet once but we all got used to it and needed another step up?

I haven't drawn in so long...

I drew this yesterday in basically one sitting. I found it crazy shocking it came out this well. I am utterly pleased with myself. (Now the problem is coloring...I'm so bad at color and light.)

Black SwanCollapse )

Hopefully my drawings will continue to improve in this vein.

Later.

Just When You've Waited Too Long

He would later tell me that he noticed me the second I walked through the door. Watched me circle the bar, again, again, searching. Saw my hands shuffle through my purse as I paid for a beer, saw me slide a hand under my skirt as I balanced a chilled bottle in the other, as I took an empty booth. He would explain how he had debated whether to approach me, half-fearing that I was waiting for a boyfriend, a date.

I have no boyfriend. I have no date.

How he waited for so long, and when the time was right, when it was apparent that nobody was going to come for me, when perhaps he had drunk enough to calm down, he approached my table.

I can't remember the exact words now, but I think he said something like, 'It looks like you're waiting for something. Do you mind if I sit with you to pass the time while I wait as well?' Or something like that. I was surprised, I'll admit that. I had just been laughing on the phone with Felice about how depressing and lonely it is, sitting by oneself in a bar. The only saving grace of the situation was the fact that I was actually waiting for other people, and I was not wasting a desperate night of angry solitude drowning in a bar. The fact that someone, many people, in fact, were coming for me, made it tolerable.

But I was still bored.

He said his name was Zach and a little light went off in my brain. I never thought I'd be interested in another person whose name began with that letter. (His initials are ZZ, by the way, which is absolutely delightful.)

He looked like Elijah Wood, except not as scrawny. We talked and laughed and he thought I was 23 (that was as generous a guess as he thought was necessary. He was shocked when he found out I was 25. They always are.) I was thrilled that he was 22 and not younger. No more of the children, I swear. (Although I didn't know the last one was a child. I'm serious. Thankfully he was legal, nevertheless.) I complained that I hate 20-year-olds hitting on me because they can never buy me drinks and he asked point blank if that was a weak attempt to weasel a drink out of him and I was embarrassed. It wasn't, but it sure looked suspicious. He moved to get me a drink and I asked if that was okay. He teased me. "You're the only girl I've ever known who asked if it was alright if I bought them a drink." He smiled, and I knew he was happy.

I told him who was coming to meet me and he asked if all my friends were as cute as I was. I knew it was a line, but I let it work. Why fight it? I said, no, they were cuter. He seemed suspicious.

I was almost sad when my friends arrived. I had been having fun. But once my friends got there, I continued to have a good time. I was happy that Zach seemed able to hold his own conversationally and socially....if nothing else, it was a relief. I didn't have to hold his hand during the conversation. (I hate having to do that.)

He likes scary movies. So do I. Now I have somebody to watch scary movies with.

I accepted his offer for a date long before I realized I had been asked on a date. We were talking about the new X-Men movie and he said he wouldn't mind seeing it again and I said I hadn't seen it and he asked if I would like to see it with him and I said yes.

And then I blushed furiously.

I am a dumb girl.

He really does look like Elijah Wood...just hotter.

After my friends left and he and I stayed on at Larry's to catch another beer, he told me that my friends were all pretty and had nice bodies, but he didn't think they were as cute as I was.

Oooooooh, boy, you're dangerous. You know all the right happy buttons to push, don't you?

I've never had anything happen like this before and I really like it. I'm so giddy and nervous and it's wonderful. Before the end of the night, we'd planned two dates for the next week.

We went out today for the first time.

It's different when you're 100% sober. (Although he still looks like a hotter, better-formed version of Elijah Wood. He has the bestest nose ever.) I met him at Betty's (I'd never been there before but I loved it--it was full of pictures of Betty Page and had Varga pictures EVERYWHERE!) He had already ordered a beer and was working on some spinach-cheese dip and pitas. It was 4:30. We ate and talked for over an hour and a half. His lesbian friend came by (I know, I know, I shouldn't point out that she's a lesbian because it doesn't matter but, what, would you rather I say 'his black friend'?) to pick up stuff he was carrying for her. Some sweaters and magazines and whatnot. She seemed nice.

I had Fin Du Monde and sping rolls and was a happy camper. Things were awkward at first...lots of pauses and not knowing what to talk about....but we started doing better the more we drank and suddenly we were having a really nice time.

I drove him to work at around 6pm. When he gets off work, he'll call me--if it's not too late--and we may watch a movie at my place. *^_^* Tee hee. We'll see what happens.

However, I don't want things to move too quickly. Things go downhill fast if you do.

Goodness, he is a cutie....

Ice Cream

Dunno if anybody knew, but today was National Ice Cream Day.

I celebrated it.

Been a long time...

I haven't done art in so long, I'd forgotten how to do it. Having had surgery and being bed-ridden for 2 weeks (no alcohol for 2 whole weeks!!!), popping pain pills that didn't do the trick and being generally miserable, I turned to art (you can only watch so many wild police video shows before you get bored). Drew this in my ample spare time:

MERMAID ARTCollapse )

It's not finished yet--in fact, I might just can it and color it all over again from scratch--but it's not bad, considering that coloring is DEFINITELY my weak point. Any pointers for how to improve it? It's the first purely digital background I've ever done, so I'm sure it looks pathetic ('sides the fact it isn't done--I'm going to add highlights to the rocks and probably fade the water color more and add faint rays of light). Also, I think the watery sunlight on the mermaid's body is a little much (I was too lazy to sit and actually calculate the lines). (Mega thanks to NeonDragon for her fabulous tutorials. This looks so much better than it would have, had I not studied her explanations.)

Here's the original (which I'm MUCH happier with):

ORIGINALCollapse )

This is probably the prettiest ink job I've done (well, can't really call it an ink job because I "inked" it on my computer...) although I know as well as anybody that there isn't as much variation in line thickness as there should be.

Definitely nice to be doing art again...not that I have time now that I'm in an intensive Japanese teacher training summer course. Sigh. Oh, well, I get free food.
I'm in a depression upswing (finally, after months of misery), and I finally paid my bills from last month and cleaned my apartment and did my laundry and started doing homework again. I even washed my car. It became such a bright red after washing that Mari wasn't sure she was tailing the right car.

I've been able, finally, to reach out to my friends again--no more sitting home, feeling sorry for myself. (Well, there were--and still are--some things that hurt, no matter what, but I'm trying to get myself back into the circle. It's not automatic like it was with my friends in high school or college. You have to be present to gain presence. People don't reach out unless you reach out first.)

Behind in my schoolwork, but part of that can be attributed to being in and out of doctors' offices nearly every day for the past several weeks. They don't know what's wrong with me, either. Hemorrhaging and swollen lymph nodes and pain. They checked me for every easily testable virus. I have neither HIV nor any STDs nor anything else. I had mono at one point in my life (that was sort of a surprise), but it was so many years ago that it's completely out of my system.

Two students came to my office hours, which ended up lasting until about 30 minutes longer than normal. There were lots of good questions, and I think everybody had a good time. Students are actually coming to my office hours. I feel so special! ^_^

After office hours, walking home in the pre-storm, I saw a small cluster of black men standing outside the new Eddie George's. One of them had an oversized packet of prints. Two other men appeared to be discussing prices with him, and, as I walked past, a third man tried to block my view of the prints with his body. He smiled grimly at me as my gaze bent around him to the strange pictures the other man was holding. On that wide white surface, I saw what appeared to be an image of two bodies wrapped around each other. I couldn't tell if they were male or female, what their race was, or what body parts I was seeing. I could only tell that there were two bodies by the slight difference in the color of their light skin. Nothing but a seamless crush of lovely muscles. It was beautiful and strange. I still don't understand what I saw or why it was so hidden.

I'd write more, but it's time to go to bed. ('Sides, The Ultimate Fighter 3 is over and I have to get up early to teach tomorrow morning.) 'Night.
Watched two hawks dive for squirrels outside the grad room window this afternoon. The sun was setting and the hawks were so big and beautiful they looked like white owls. The squirrel they were hunting made it, after fifteen minutes of incredible flips and turns and sprints. Those poor, beautiful birds are going to die of starvation. Although, I can't really blame them for being unable to catch an OSU squirrel--those fluffy-tailed monsters are demons here. They'll attack you if you get close to a trashcan. And they hiss and stuff, too. Some of them are huge. So having lovely predatory birds pick off a few is certainly no loss.

Did feel sorta sorry for the squirrel, though. 'Cept that he got away....

Several people stopped on the campus below me, watching the battle. It was funny: watching animals (humans) watching animals (hawks) watching animals (squirrelies). Until I realized that I was an animal watching animals watching animals watching animals. Then it wasn't quite so amusing anymore.

I read an article--the one I'm sure I've talked about before--that really bothered me. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me. My shrink told me to stop thinking about it, but that's like telling somebody to stop eating--it isn't possible. And the more I study pedagogy and psychology, the more it bothers me. We are all programmed to do the same things. We are ultimately all the same. We have survived because we are a social species, and everything we do feeds that trait. Why am I writing this? To get my ideas out. Why do we read? To gain ideas. It's through communication that we ensure the survival of the pack. But that bothers me. It also bothers me that everything is also connected to sex. Sex and communication. Is my sole purpose in life only to procreate? To keep the species alive? If so, for whatever reason, that bothers the hell out of me. It could be because that would mean that this is all meaningless. That we have no higher purpose. Or it could just be that I hate the foundation for having no greater meaning, when really it's supporting an entire building of great importance. Maybe these "tendencies" are simply a support structure that keeps us going, enables us to *have* higher purpose. And maybe I just solved my dilemma.

But I'm going to keep thinking about it, nonetheless.

Got honked at the other day. Walking to Bento's on Saturday, dressed in jeans, black leather boots, a black oversized jacket, with my hair slicked back in a braid, I had two guys who had just gotten out of the Taproot concert down the street comment on me.

"Extreme."

"That's what I'm talking about."

Hmm....I smiled inside, but it still sounded odd to me.

Well, time to go do more homework. No more thinking for today. Is everybody in the grad program here taking it easy this quarter except me?

The way to a woman's heart

Forget the diamonds.

BRING ME FINE WINE
Ah, one of those days when I want to shatter into a million pieces and fly out across the universe and hopefully evolve into something more useful and clean. One of those days when I feel like a pretty piece of oblivion could be my finest lover ever. Shouldn't I follow the genes glowing along the rails of that yellow brick runway and crashdive through the blue until I touch black? Wouldn't it be better to go out with a bang or a wild ride? It almost seems better to drive until I seize than to wade the dark waters until I tire and sink.

Our lives are like bank accounts that keep losing interest. Death gets less shocking the older you get. I want my death to mean something, but I don't




That quote I found the other day....

Goodbye

It was below freezing outside when I crawled out of bed this morning, which may be why the tears wouldn't form when I got the phone call. It wasn't an actual conversation, just a message on my cellphone. I could tell by the way Mom spoke so slowly and carefully, by the slight quiver in her voice, that something bad had happened to somebody good. Before she could even say the name, I had figured out who it was.

My grandmother died in her sleep this morning.

I find it eerie that last night, after I took a shower at 1am, I thought of her. I thought how it would be 2 years since I'd see her last, if I made it to East Tennessee this summer. How frail she had looked the last time I saw her. How it was all I could do not to cry as she squeezed my hand in the ICU. The way her eyes had brightened when she saw me. And I imagined what I would say when they told me she had died. How I would wish I could have seen her one last time. How I should have come back to America early and visited her last summer. Should have, would have, could have, nothing.

The news of her death was nothing more than words, strange patterned sounds, that kept echoing in my head all day. I didn't have enough time to stop and let those sounds convert to knowledge and on to feeling. As I walked back from the hospital this late afternoon, the temperature rose to 34 degrees and the ice floes began to melt. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing on the sidewalk. Figures I'd run into people I knew. I've walked that path a million times and this is the first time I've seen people I know. My friends, my students. I wiped furiously at my eyes and slid my lips off my teeth in what may have passed for a smile.

I've been pretty composed today, surprisingly. Something about her death being peaceful, about it not being sudden or shocking, was nice. I didn't quite realize that she was so near death, so it did seem a little surprising, but it had been a long time in coming.

I wish I could write more about this, but the temperature is falling again, as it goes in the path of grief.