Dear Friends ( Read more... )

why is it that functionality is always three inches beyond my grasp?

so last night we went to michelle's party, the occasion of which was her entry into vet school (apparently that's really hard). I hadn't seen her in six years, and the last i could remember of our relationship was some nasty fight over which i have no clue. we were volatile friends for years, and i was nervous about seeing her again. but another ( Read more... )

i finally took that country drive i always knew would restore me, or did it? i crave the untouched, unpaved, winding roads of west chester. i look out on farmhouses and rolling fields of farmland, and my heart burns for a place in the country--a covered porch, wooden floorboards, tall grass. i wonder if in this day and age--with land ever ( Read more... )

I have elliott smith tickets! and he's playing at the troc no less--a converted brothel house! i can not belive my luck; just when I thought this rut I'm in was without end, elliott comes to pick me up and make me float (at least for a while). i guess troubles go on, but to the best music imaginable . . . . i know i will cry at the show.

I swear the therapist's office is one of the most unhealthy places I've found. I smoke, shake, read flaky magazines. I look with paranoia at the other patients, wondering if I can leave my bag while I go to the bathroom or if there isn't a cleptomaniac among them. Some people waiting are so friendly it disturbs me. They talk about the magazines, or ( Read more... )

So the Clonopin must have kicked in because I finally stopped scratching at the walls two days ago. Still, is this better? I don't usually have that existential conversation because I think it's ridiculous to deny medication simply because it's alien to the body/causes addiction. if it's suicide or addiction, I'll pick the latter. but my mom ( Read more... )

went to a psychiatrist today, who says she wants to see me more, and that i should go to a neurologist and get some personality tests. still no one can tell me what the hell's wrong, but things are looking a little bleak because the doctor asked me if i hear voices and i couldn't honestly say no anymore. ah, for an hour i could see my words hang in ( Read more... )

It's been a long day, and I find myself now trembling in ways I remember from a year ago when I sunk so low. Maybe it's the sexism at work to which I am more sensitive than I realized; the men call me "babe" and "girl" and 40 year old guys hit on me with an ease and forwardness that staggers me. No room to be queer, and no room to accomplish any of ( Read more... )

No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
-Samuel Beckett