30 December 2006

Simple.

In The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, His Holiness talks about Saddam Hussein directly. Allow me to paraphrase because the book is not with me at the moment. He says that it is not fair to blame an entire country's woes on one person. Saddam may be the leader, but a leader takes followers, a commander takes an army. And so that empty, creepy feeling is the knowledge that his death will not bring an end to violence in Iraq or improve the world opinion of the United States. In the Mercury News, Mohammed Latif, a 35-year-old from Baghdad is quoted as saying, "Executing Saddam will not change anything because we have many Saddam still."

And the execution of Saddam certainly didn't seem to change Saddam himself. From The New York Times:

The national security adviser in Iraq, Mowaffak al-Rubaie, asked him if he had any remorse or fear.

"No," he said bluntly. "I am a militant and I have no fear for myself. I have spent my life in jihad and fighting aggression. Anyone who takes this route should not be afraid."

Mr. Rubaie, who was standing shoulder to shoulder with Mr. Hussein, asked him about the murder of the elder Mr. Sadr.

They were standing so close to each other that others could not hear the exchange.

One of the guards, though, became angry. "You have destroyed us," the masked man yelled. "You have killed us. You have made us live in destitution."

Mr. Hussein was scornful. "I have saved you from destitution and misery and destroyed your enemies, the Persian and Americans."

The guard cursed him. "God damn you."

Mr. Hussein replied, "God damn you."

And his last words: "Down with the traitors, the Americans, the spies and the Persians."

A spokesman for Hamas, Fawzi Barhum, seems to agree.

"Saddam Hussein was a prisoner of war," Mr. Barhum said, calling his execution "a political assassination that violates all international laws that are supposed to protect prisoners of war." He called the trial "unjust" and said the timing of the execution, a half-day before the start of the Muslim feast of Eid al-Adha, was insulting. "The hanging took place on the day of the Eid and this is a message to the Arab street. The Americans have launched threats to all the Arabs," he said.

I am not a terrorist and i don't condone violence. I'm pretty much a pacifist. But the attempts the the United States have made to bring peace to the Middle East have failed terribly. If peace is ever to be a viable option on this lovely little planet of ours, the United States is going to have to accept that there are ways of thinking that seem absurd to us. Upon acceptance of that fact, we will understand that our ways of thinking seem absurd to others. With that understanding, perhaps we will realize that we don't have to bomb yet another country into agreement.

As Dr. King said, "Only love can conquer hate." We (sorry if "we" is unspecific) choose hate because it's usually the path of least resistance. Yeah, it takes us to some pretty shitty places and we end up not feeling so good about ourselves, but if we choose hate, we don't really have to work that hard. It's not difficult to feel hatred for a dictator like Hussein. Is it possible to feel love for him? And i'm not talking about that hippy-drippy-ultra-granola-i-love-everybody kind of love. I'm talking about towing the hard line. In order to find love for someone we perceive as being so different from us, we have to look deeply both at the other and at ourselves to find a common denominator.

If that seems impossible, maybe start just by being kinder to the people who aren't so different from you. Like your neighbor you've never talked to in the three years you've lived in that 6-unit apartment. Or the deli guy that knows your coffee order so you don't have to say anything at 8am when you're only capable of grunting anyway. I truly think this is the way to peace. Not through a centralized government that is paralyzingly difficult to communicate with, but through the infinite number of connections you make each day. Perhaps this seems simple, but don't mistake simplicity for worthlessness. For a month, just try being the person who says hello first, who smiles first. I don't think you'll need a whole month to begin to see that the barriers you feel between you and the rest of the world are an illusion. As i cultivate this practice, more and more i'm convinced that we're all just the same person.

Don't know if i'll be posting tomorrow or not, so Happy New Year. Love to all.

SG

p.s. happy birthday, mom!



29 December 2006

Saddam Hussein Is, Like, Dead.

The idea of Saddam Hussein has been around in my mind for over a decade. The thought of his death brings to mind that he was an actual person. Clearly, he could have used a reminder as well.
I don't condone torture in anyway. I don't condone torture in anyway. I don't condone torture in anyway. But my teachers are always telling me that yoga is union of opposites. Thus it comes to me that at this moment, while millions of people take his execution as justice, at this moment, there are those who are grieving his death. Sometimes i wonder how we haven't blown oursleves up yet with all the diametrical opposition.

I'm thinking about Tod Folds, my first boyfriend. We were in the sixth grade when the First Gulf War happened. He didn't believe that we would go to war. He thought the media were being sensationalists. I think he said something to the effect of, "It's just, so, like, commercials, and like sponsors, will like, i don't know, my dad said they, like, get more money, if people watch. And people will watch the news if there's, like a war." Something like that. We were precocious.

Since i was 11 when Saddam Hussein first came into my view, i think i maintained my 11-year-old POV of him: a terrorist action movie supervillain who would outrun a James Bond like superspy again and again. But no, he was a real human being who did things i don't want to think about to other real human beings and still insists that he will be martyrized in heaven. I saw a talk with Robert Thurman recently. Have i mentioned this before? I think it's worth mentioning again because it's a very challenging concept. He said (i'm paraphrasing.) that once we reached Buddhahood that we would be able to see all suffering and pain and despair as mothing but misunderstanding. That is, we will not deem events in history or our lives as good or bad, but see them as a series of actions, one leading to the next and to the next and to the next. I imagine that it will be like watching video of one of those magnificently-complicated tiles of dominoes designed to fall one after the other, running backwards and forwards at the same time.

Sound and Noise.

My ipod is broken. There's no left-channel sound anymore. I've tried a few different sets of headphones. I'm so sad about it that i'm tempted to use an emoticon.

My ipod is the main reason i'm able to leave my house ever. There are few things i look forward to more than putting on my headphones and stepping out of my home for a destination-less walk. Without my sense of hearing, i look at things more closely. My eyes draw the cityscape around me into me. As i walk i gather trees, leaves, dogshit, buildings, the Statue of Liberty, airplanes into my arms and put them in my pocket to examine and write about later. You all belong to me, i say as i walk past garbage cans and stray cats. And so do you, i tell all the people who look me in the eye and all the people that look down at the ground, as if they had done something naughty, as if looking at another human being were a sin, an invasion.

I am thankful that this is the saddest news in my world right now. Perhaps it's not sad. I'll hear the city more. And understand what makes a city and why i want this one to be mine.

The BQE goes by my apartment. My first night, The Ex rolled a joint for me and my old roommate, Carla. I was still trying to make The Ex mine again back then. As i was falling asleep that night, i tried to send my thoughts to The Ex's apartment, a block and a half away. Come over. Come over. I miss you. I love you. Why won't you take me back?

Every time i drifted off, a truck would roll its as-tall-as-i-am tires over the Expressway and return me to awakening. It was as if i were a witch performing a very complicated spell. As soon as i awoke, i aimed my focused thoughts right to him. It was not a very good night's sleep.

The next morning, i told him that the traffic on the BQE kept me up all night. Yeah, he said, you get used to it. It's like that at my place,too. You remember.

I said yes, but i was lying.

:(

28 December 2006

Could somebody please pack me a bowl?

God help you if we cross paths today. I'm irritated to no end and looking for a fight. Good thing our government provides me with an entity at which i can direct my anger.

  • I don't care what the government says, this is more dangerous than smoking weed will ever be.
  • Also, get your hammers out to break your post-2006 RFID chip-implanted passport. In a few years, they're gonna try to implant them under our skin.
  • And since three is the magic number, here's something else that pisses me off about the people who are supposed to be representing us in the world.

27 December 2006

A Warning for Al Green and the First President Bush.

Revolutionary soul singers and former U.S. presidents seem to be taking their final bow and vetoing their last bill in tandem the last couple of years. I know that two cases don't equal a pattern, but perhaps Al Green (God forbid!) and George Bush, Sr. (Well, we all have to go some time.) ought to be keeping tabs on one another.

Any New Year's resolution, y'all? I wanna know 'em. As usual, post a comment or e-mail me. By the way, whatever your resolutions are, i already think you're perfect.

xo.

26 December 2006

Soul Is Suffering Already.

If Soul is undying, how can its Godfather pass away?

Now that Soul is no longer protected by the firm hand and strong, yet flexible legs of Mr. James Brown, we need to be careful we don't accidentally sell it. Soul Brother No. 1 won't be around to keep sleazy boys from hitting on your sexy, but too-trusting soul. Mr. Dynamite can't blow the back of your soul open with the forceful demand to, "Hit me!" The hardest working man in show business has retired and left you with the keys to the store.

James Brown was born in a one-room shack in South Carolina and brought up in his aunt's brothel. At one point, his clothes were so tattered and old that his school told him not to come back. It was when he first went to prison that he started singing in a gospel group and from then on, he helped to raise soul music, all of our souls and Soul with encouragement, precision, freedom, discipline and love. If we're gonna get out of our own one-room shacks, away from the brothels and the prisons of our own experience, we have to treat our soul with as much attention and care our Godfather did. As one reader wished for Chistmas, we have to "stop being scared, stop making excuses, and stop taking the easy way out." (thanks, jf.)



25 December 2006

Here's What I hope You Do Get!

May the Lord of day grant us peace.
May the Lord of night grant us peace.
May the Lord of sight grant us peace.
May the Lord of might grant us peace.
May the Lord of speech grant us peace.
May the Lord of space grant of peace.
I bow down to Brahman*, source of all power.
I will speak the truth and follow the law.
Guard me and my teacher against all harm.
Guard me and my teacher against all harm.

- The Taittiriya Upanishad, Part I,i

I love you. I mean it. So be nice; it's Christmas.

*You can fill this in with whatever or whomever it is you bow down to, with whatever provides you with your source of power.

24 December 2006

Merry Christmas

We want things because we're sure those things will make us happy and then, those things end up making us more miserable than when we started. I hope you don't get anything you want.

23 December 2006

It's Hard Out Here for a SquarePants.

Are you at your parents' house for the holidays? Are you going insane? Can you smoke there? I hope you're all okay. Maybe you'll get lucky and UPS/Santa will drop someone else's stuffed animals down your chimney:

PANAMA CITY BEACH

The stuffed frog, duck and SpongeBob SquarePants all were holding, but the bear was clean.

The Bay County Sheriff’s Office confiscated three stuffed animals filled with about $20,000 worth of marijuana and hashish Sunday at a summer home in Panama City Beach.

The duck was loaded with about 2 pounds of highgrade marijuana worth up to $8,000, said Lt. Faith Bell of the Sheriff’s Office. Crammed into SpongeBob was about 13 ounces of pressed hashish blocks, and nearly 10 pounds of lowgrade marijuana was found in the frog and duck (from The News Herald, Panama City, Fl.).

I had no idea SpongeBob had fallen so low.

22 December 2006

Quiet

The city is gonna get quiet soon. My apartment already is. Before i opened the door, i had to remind myself that my roommate's dog wouldn't be running out to greet me like a rock star. My roommate took her with her on the 30-hour drive to Texas. I think i miss them.

My friends seemed to have all slipped out of town. Somehow, December 22nd came more quickly than we expected and all of a sudden it's back home, even though by now, most of my friends consider NYC to be home. Back to old home.

There are still 8 million people in the city, but on this night, made shiny and wet and dark and cinematic by an easy-no-need-for-an-umbrella rain, there is space and silence all around me. I'm not getting a vacation, yet i have a sense that i'm on retreat. What am i retreating from? I have this idea that while my roommate is gone, the apartment will be dimly light and warm. Soft music will whisper from my I-tunes. I'll shuffle around in my white socks, sit in my rocking chair and scribble in my various notebooks. Monks will make a procession, humming and carrying candles. They look me in the eye. The moon will always hang low and big and white. Time won't count; somehow, my apartment will have slipped out of temporality. There's plenty of time for all of it. Time for staying in bed and smoking pot. Time for paying rent. Time for cleaning the apartment. Time for pissing off strangers on the internet. For not knowing what to say. For victims and Buddhism. For knowing what to say and not saying it. And for much more than this.

If i ever stop smoking weed, i hope i manage to continue believing in magic. Not like David Blaine or Copperfield magic. I'm on the brink of something and that is the best kind of magic, like before a kiss or before you come. Magic that feels like that.

Christmas List

What do you want for Christmas? Email me or post a comment.

21 December 2006

Mexican Food.

I sat in my favorite Mexican restaurant in Brooklyn tonight sipping a poorly blended piƱa colada, waiting for my take-out and wondering if i looked like a loser for getting take-out alone on a Thursday night. "I'm going out later tonight," i kinda wanted to reassure the couple that were seated in the dining area, minding their own business, not giving a damn whether i was solo or maybe being jealous of people who had the option of a guiltless dinner-for-one without leaving behind boyfriendgirlfriendspousepartnerbabykids. I used to take myself out to brunch every weekend in the months after i graduated from college. Once, my friend Jael and a friend of hers passed the restaurant where i was brunching alfrescro. Spontaneously running into her was fantastic, but when she asked if they could join me, i politely, yet resolutely said no. Is it appropriate to use "resolutely" here? A little fancy, no? Anyway. She, her friend, and the waitress all stopped, pausing to play back the words i had just said. "Oh. She said no and yet my body is moving as though she'd said yes. Pause. Back up."

My alone time is still important to me, but i'm beginning to wonder if i'm using my comfort with aloneness as a way to cover up the fact that i'm kinda chicken when it comes to going out. I got comfortable with being alone because i was alone more often than not as a kid. And as a kid, when i was alone in my house, it meant that i was not with my parents. It was so much less stressful to be away from them.

That's one of the things i look forward to when i'm in a relationship again: comfort with another person as if i were with myself. It was like that with The Ex, but look where that got us.

I gotta grow some balls when it comes to the whole getting of a boyfriend. But the fantasizing is so easy and hot. Continuous video of our imagined first real conversation, our first drink, our first dinner, our first night together, our first kiss, &c. Re-editing and re-shooting and re-editing till the moment is exactly the way that i think that i want it to be in order to make sure the Universe gives me exactly the opposite of what i want. The Universe is like that with me; it plays dirty tricks. So do i. I believe we have an understanding.

Just a few more hours to go in the longest night. Just a few more days in a pretty long year. Whatever you call your celebrations around this time of year, i think at heart, we're all just saying, "I shoulda beennicer to you, but at least we made it through. Here's to not being an asshole in '07!"

We're all gonna get it right eventually.

SG

20 December 2006

The Coming of the Light

Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year. With sunrise coming in at 7:16am and a sunset at 4:31pm, the day in New York City will be 9 hours and 15 minutes long. So, make sure you get up early, New Yorkers. You still have plenty of holiday shopping left. There's your Christmas office party and you haven't yet figure out what to get your well-intentioned, but-completely--nlike yourself boss, who will most likely get you a gift certificate to Pier 1, or as i like to call it "Wicker Chairs R Us." You've still got time to make gifts for your cousins; scarves aren't that hard. Just don't get too ambitious - with only four days left, sweaters are out of the question. And then there's The Bodies Exhibit you've been trying to get to for over a year. That might be a nice thing to do on the shortest day of the year. You need a new coat, though, and would be better off using your money for that. Well, maybe. While you're downtown, you could call K:. You haven't seen her in a while and she's always more receptive to spontaneous hanging out than to pre-planned kickin' it. But maybe you don't want to bother her because she's most likely busy with something cool or out of the country doing something amazing and making a difference in the lives of thousands. Taking yourself out to brunch seems like the perfect thing to do on the shortest day of the year, but you're working during prime brunch time and you can't go back to the office after a liquid lunch...anymore. And brunch isn't brunch if it's not on Sunday in your book. Bev is always available for a dog run date. But you're seeing her and the dog on Christmas. You could reaquaint yourself with New York City, for fuck's sake. When was the last time you took the train north of Union Square? You'll get on the subway, choose a person at random or maybe make up a rule beforehand - the first guy i see wearing a Yankee's hat - and whenever that person gets off, that's where you get off. Remember, you used to say to yourself, "Look at all the places you can go for a buck-fifty. I can go anywhere in New York City." Why don't you? But, perhaps something more familiar for the solstice. Perhaps instead of branching out, you return to what feels like home, knowing that resolutions for newness and derring-do and adventure are right around the corner. A walk in Prospect Park might be perfect. You could spend your time looking at how the tree branches make arms and legs and remark at the orgiastic nature of barenaked branches. Which would, of course, lead you to thinking about the uniqueness of every blade of grass. And you'll start to think, Isn't that a Walt Whitman poem? No, wait, Leaves of Grass. And you'll think, This is a good day, the shortest day of the year, to celebrate myself and sing. And you'll believe that you could

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of
all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in
books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
Now that you've got your day planned, here are a few suggestions for the longest night of the year:

Valley of the Dolls at Clearview's Chelsea
I have to admit that when an old roommate had a copy of this, i could not get through it. I think it would be significantly more fun to see it on the big screen and scream "Neely O'Hara!" with Patty Duke and a bunch of gay boys. And stoned.

A Benefit Concert for SaveDarfur.org down at The Living Room on Ludlow Street. This will be the most i've ever done for Darfur.

Literary Girl-on-Girl Action at KGB.

The Dreidel Slam at Makor. It's an all-night Hanukkah party. Something about latkes and ninjas is involved. $25 at the door.


Whatever you do with your shortest day, your longest night, remember that the light is returning. Here's hoping we'll all be seeing more clearly soon.

SG

16 December 2006

Online Now.

The Crush has a myspace page. He's online right now. I don't have a myspace page yet so i am unfamiliar with what happens when you play there. What are you doing, The Crush? Are you browsing through your hundreds of friends? Why do all the girls' pictures look so sexified? The interweb is such a weird place.

There have been big busts lately: below the border, above the border, and within it. I'm wondering how, if at all, this is affecting those of us who buy and those of us who sell. Is a drought nearby?

14 December 2006

Pretty

Emily asks, "What is it about pot that's just so good?" I talk about why i smoke here, but you know what? It's the holiday season. Things can be uber-stressful. Let's just be thankful that it is so good and that we're able to get our hands on it most of the time and we can make our resolutions in a couple of weeks. What are you guys doing for New Year's? I might see Patti Smith play at the Bowery. And my friends always throw a party at Tillary Street. It's a reliable shindig, but i wish there were more dancing.

I spent about 90 minutes throwing a personal dance party today. I am an excellent dancer. If you go to the Bowery, that's how you'll recognize me - as the best dancer there.

I found out today that The Maybe Crush is single and that we have friends in common that i didn't know about. How do i do this, you guys? How do you get to know someone you see for 15 minutes a week? I swear to you tha i am a pretty girl and not a middle-aged, balding man posing as a pretty girl, but i get filled with self-doubt and junior high shyness when i see him. When he sees me, he whispers hello as if we were in a library and i do my best to keep eye contact. I must be obvious. Being an actor, i'm trained to use my entire body to express what i'm feeling. It's habitual by now and i'm usually forced into honesty even when i'm doing my best to lie because i have too many tells. Don't ask what they are.

He must know or assume that i have a crush on because if i were him, i'd assume that every woman under 40 and most above had crushes in him. That's what i assume. That's why i'm sorta like, "Why bother?" How can i possibly stand out with the crowd we run with? Oh, just look at all this self-doubt. It's remarkable how much 7th grade deja-vu i'm having.

13 December 2006

I Miss You.

OK. I know that things have been tough and that for a while there it seemed as if i was never coming back to you. But i did come back, so won't you forgive me and let me know that you're still out there? I know that you're reading my blog; i have a hit counter and everything. Why so quiet? Am i not the StonedGrrrl you once thought i was? Have i gotten boring? Tell me what i can do to make things right between us again. If i could, i'd invite all of you over to smoke the biggest joint i've ever rolled. We'd laugh and watch "The Simpsons" and make nachos and talk about quantum physics and Paris Hilton. And we'd watch this over and over again.

SG

12 December 2006

Nothin'

I got nothin' tonight. Some guy who wanted to decriminalize marijuana during the Nixon administration died. A big weed dealer in Detroit is getting put away for 18 years. Sick Finnish people can get pot for their pain, kinda, but don't let that make you think Finland's government is goin' all pussy on smokers. The American Journal of Psychiatry has figured out that weed isn't a gateway to anything and that teenagers are gonna get high with whatever substance they can get their hands on.

I am fine. Probably a little too fine to write an interesting post. Things went well today. I was worried that having weed again would make it easy for me to stay in bed and sleep all day. Then i would have a post about my self-disappointment to which i'm sure you could all relate. Instead, i went to another Yoga class that wrung me out and made me happy. Out of nowhere, i got turned on by my sweet, mild-mannered, but not-at-all-hot-to-me teacher when he was adjusting my hips in a pose. He's light, like a cat, and i didn't hear him as he approached me, but saw him out of the corner of my eye as he laid his hands around the top and back of my pelvis. "Why is this so hot?" i asked myself.

Pretty sure it's because i've been fantasizing about my potential crush as often as i don't have to focus on anything else. My friskiness is lurking just under the surface of my cotton Yoga pants. Still frozen with oh-my-god-it's-a-cute-smart-boy shyness when i see the potential crush, though. The Pre-Crush, if you will. This is the first time in years that a crush has made me feel like i'm in high school again, averting my eyes when he tries to smile at me and my heart swelling as i await the perfect moment to show him how wonderful i am.

11 December 2006

Don't Judge.

None of us makes the best decisions when we're stoned. We could learn a lesson from this guy in Kansas.

WICHITA, Kan. - A Wichita man called 911 to report he was the victim of an armed robbery.

The theft? A pound of marijuana worth about $1,100 that he had been trying to sell at his home.

The victim told police Thursday that a buyer had pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and stole the drugs.

Police brought a drug-sniffing dog to the house and located more marijuana and drug paraphernalia.

The victim was booked into Sedgwick County jail on several charges, including possession with the intent to sell drugs.

The thief has not been found.


Let's be smart potheads and maybe really, really old ones.

SG

Better

I feel better. I took a Yoga class that made me feel weak. It took me a while to realize that my lack of strength was directly related to my lack of sleep. Despite feeling wimpy and tired and overly sensitive in class, now i'm experiencing the Yoga setting in. It's like my whole body just had a good cry.

The first thing i write in the morning usually is pretty depressing and self-loathing and despairing because, in general, i wake up with a vague sense of dread, an overall feeling of confusion and a healthy dose of pissed-offedness because i'm no longer asleep. And as such, I save that stuff for my real journal which no one ever ever looks at and no one ever ever will i don't care if Cosmo says it's a great way to become more intimate with your partner. (I don't know if it was Cosmo, but it was one of those horrible beauty magazines that lie about what women look like and what men want from women.) This morning, though, the blog was the first thing i wrote. But i'm better now and for better or for worse, The Man is steps from my doorway bringing his sweet, sweet plant.

SG

Regrets Only

At the end of each of my classes, i say, "And in gratitude to everything and everyone that have led us to this perfect moment, we bow." I've been feeling like that hasn't rung true for me lately. The words come out, but i wonder if my students can hear the doubt in my voice.

I feel more regret about The Ex than i ever thought i would. Until the whole babymamadrama went down, i was certain that the lessons that i learned from being with The Ex would sustain me for at least this lifetime. I thought that being with him was a way for me to learn that somebody was capable of loving me (a revelation, i assure you!) and to learn that love doesn't mean emotional strangulation. But i look back on our time together and i see where i am now and i see how many of the choices i made when i was with The Ex (and i don't mean because of The Ex) have led me to be living a life that i don't think i feel very proud of.

It was when The Ex and i started dating that i began to smoke on a daily basis. I'm not ashamed that i smoke pot, but i am ashamed of what i've done to get weed sometimes and of some of the things i've done while stoned. Or more truly, what i've not done: written the novel, learned to play guitar, run the marathon. I know that these are the kinds of things that everyone says they're gonna do, but never do, even if they're not a pothead. It's part of the human condition to have high hopes and lofty aspirations that get dashed by the daily grind of just trying to stay alive. And i know that there are plenty of potheads who have achieved massive amounts of success. But i'm talking about my personal experience and at the moment, my personal experience is that of me, broke with no weed, wishing that i'd never started. And at the same time, of course, wishing that somehow i had enough money to get some weed today. The sad part? I can't afford it and rent's due on the 20th and i'll probably find a way to talk myself into thinking it's ok to buy it and then spend next week avoiding my landlord, making excuses to my landlord, running around looking for extra work, lying to my mother about why i need an extra $100, giving my landlord a check that will probably bounce, checking my bank's website every half-hour to see if it did bounce. I'll probably do all this without breathing. Right now, i'm about to add up my paychecks to see if there's any conceivable way i could make it work to get my stone on.

Well, i can afford it, but barely. I just called The Man. He'll be here around 6pm. And the cycle begins again. I'm a fucking idiot. I regret calling. Yesterday's StonedGrrrl told Today's StonedGrrrl not to do this, but Last Night's StonedGrrrl didn't get to sleep till 5:30am and Right Now's StonedGrrrl knows that Tonight's StonedGrrrl will go batshit if she doesn't sleep better tonight.

Already, the fear is creeping in. It's ok so far because it's not the 20th quite yet, but in a matter of days, when i'm buried under my covers, not stoned, just numb, i will wonder why the fuck i thought making that phonecall was a good idea. I will wonder if i've made any good decisions in the last half-decade. Falling for The Ex? Depression. Confusion. Memories i try to forget. Leaving my secure day job in pursuit of higher seeking? Unpaid bills. Bad credit. Bounced checks. I will wonder if setting foot in this dirty city in the first place a good idea. Too many people. Lost friends. Dog shit.

In happier news, it's my dad's birthday. He's awesome.

08 December 2006

A Crush.

I'm trying to have a crush on someone. I see him about 15 minutes a week. I think he's cute, but not intimidatingly so.. I have a lot of context for him, though. I know lots of people who know him so i'm making the assumption that he is a good and kind person. I need some firsthand experience, though. Stupid shyness.
 

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