It's been five days now. Five days since I decided I couldn't continue to kill myself...slowly...one cigarette at a time. I'm doing okay. So far I haven't bent - I still have my last packet, seven cigarettes remaining - untouched. I've thought about throwing the remainder away, about giving them away. I don't think I will...I think I want to keep them, to remind me. That in the face of temptation, I was strong enough to say no. I'm not doing this because my last packet has run out. I'm doing this because I've had enough...and fuck it, it makes no difference whether the means are there or not - I've said enough, and I mean it.
I have learnt at least one thing, that I feel the need to share though. It's something I haven't really heard connected to giving up, something no-one really mentions.
In my bag right now, i have Bronchitis mixture, Nurofen, Sudafed, Strepsils anaesthetic throat lozenges, kava relaxation formula, and dry cough mixture!
It's the ultimate irony, that taking a step that should add years to my life expectancy, has caused me to feel totally awful. i guess I shouldn't be surprised though, after all this time pumping smoke into my throat, my lungs...toxic smoke that would destroy everything, including germs that normally cause sickness, and infection. But now the smoke's stopped...and I guess my immune system's a little under prepared for the sudden free-for-all my body's become. So now I suffer - punishment, I suppose, for the stress I've put my body through up until now. I'll endure the coughing attacks, the headaches, the pain in my chest. Because I know that after this passes, things will be better.
I'm not the only one facing a change in life though... I can't help but feel the total insignificance of events going on in my life, when Paul, a friend of mine, walks into my work office today, to tell me and my flatmate that he's just proposed to his girlfriend, and she's said yes. Wow. It's finally happening...my friends are starting to get engaged. That's the second one now. I can just imagine, a couple of years down the track, when they're starting to have families. It seems so strange to even consider now - but I know it'll happen. It really feels strange to think about going along to their wedding - up until now, I've only ever really been to weddings for family - cousins and the like. Seeing someone I've been drunk with, laughed with, given a whole heap of shit to (in a friendly way of course!), walking down the isle... Committing his life to another. Focusing his life on being with her...
She could not give. I don't mean gifts necessarily, although she hasn't had the chance to for the past six months either. I am referring to times when it would be nice of her to be accomodating without sacrificing a whole lot. Going to my graduation would have been a bonus if she had found a way to not make it seem boring. It's too bad she only thought about herself. I went to her own graduation and it was never boring for me, and I stood crouched on the grass prepared to take her pictures for nearly two hours. She had even thought of not attending. I finally convinced her that she would regret if she didn't go. It made her day.
She boiled my water. Me, being a water ox and her being a fire dragon in the Chinese Astrologic Signs, my water gets easily boiled whenever there is a conflict. And when this happens, we both get too stubborn.
We come from different backgrounds. And this is not to be meant to be a racial commentary. It has nothing to do with that. The fact is, that her family isn't much of one, whereas my own family is rather tight. We always think of each other whereas her family is almost always separate. Heck, her family is now spread across Canada - her brother lives in Halifax and her mother lives in Victoria. My family all live in Toronto. So tell me, who's going to have the most personal contact? (Out of sight, out of mind.)
I suppose I didn't realize it sooner, as she didn't either, that these two paradigms conflict each other to a detriment.
The sex was too good. And this over-compensated for the problems in our relationship. Sometimes, it would mask parts of what we were too afraid to discuss. We would essentially say: "I don't care - I love you anyways..." and we would do it. Other times, it would be all that we'd concentrate on without fixing the bad.
I loved her too much. I threw myself at her. - at the beginning. And it took her a while to catch-up to my degree of lovingness towards her. I did everything and much more for her. It was wrong of me to do this. I treated her too much like a princess, even though she loved it.
We had forgotten what was important. But I remembered at the last minute. But by then, it was too late. She had already gone. Many-a-times, we were too enraptured by the most miniscule of details in our relationship. There was little time to enjoy our life because of the more practical things that needed our attention. Living together was such a different feeling. I was ready to adapt to the life more, even though it took me more effort. She just could not deal with the pressures no longer, and left.
I could write about more of this, but it's tiring. No, it's exhausting.
The strange thing is that my brain and perhaps, my heart, misses her dearly as she keeps appearing in my dreams.
But my brain also tells me, "It was a good move."
Unless, of course, my head is really that hard.
You say "you know me", but I don't think you really do. Remember, I'm the one who cares about "things"? And now that you do, it hasn't been right.
Another daylog in the life of a substitute teacher. This morning as I was laying in bed, dreading the phone call that would awaken me and force me to get moving, I actually hoped that I would not get the phone call. However, when I got the phone call, I seriously thought about telling her no. I should have because today I have become the Wandering Substitute. Thats right I am a sub without a room, without a place to hang my hat, coat and bag of tricks for the day and call my own, shared around the school at the whim of the school office.
It would be one thing if the classes were somewhat alike but no they are all totally diffrent. First hour is being a paraproffesional in an EI classroom, Second Hour is a thing called Advisory and right now I don't knwo what the rest of the day will be.
On another note I bought my new computer almost 3 months off an auction on Ebay. Well everything was going great until my motherboard blew and I could not use it, but no fears I have a year long warrenty all I have to do is contact the company and get in all sent in. Well... to make a long story short, its been two weeks at the company and I'm still waiting on it. Note to self, never buy from them again.
At church last saturday the priest said that they were going to start incorporating more silence into the service -- that if it was quiet for a bit after the gospel reading we shouldn't fidget and wonder if anyone lost their place because there was supposed to be a reflective pause after the gospel reading so that its meaning could sort of sink in to the congregation. The priest said this pause was sort of lost in our speeded-up world, but that we needed it to put the meaning of the words in perspective. I thought that that was really the whole purpose of fall, at least where I am. Its the meaningful pause right before death to let the full meaning of the passing year sink in. And I feel like I'm surrounded by silence, even if I am blasting the dropkick murphys or a mixed CD made by an awesome young man, no matter how loud the environment gets, its still quiet inside me while I listen to everything die, and find out what the year was about.
It makes me happy when something I do can make others happy, even if it's as simple as giving them all a place to crash for a weekend out of town. I think we all just really need that now and then, and I think we need it more frequently, like once a month. I didn't get to talk to many people that came one on one, but I think it's safe to say that we need these times because we don't always know what we want, how to get it and where we're going in life.
This weekend I spent talking to other people, making sure they were having a good time, that no one got lost or left behind. It felt good to have people around me, but as always after they're all gone I feel empty and sad for a few days. I want these people to be around more, but then there's that worry that if it weren't for obstacles we undertake to see one another, we may not have anything to talk about. We are so spread out and far apart, yet linked with an irony of closeness here.
One question has been running through my mind, one that I don't like asking: Is this all there is? I've been asking myself that for years, it seems, and I long so badly to have something happen that makes me not ask this question any more. If I were a camera capturing the world through my eyes, it would be zooming in and out on what's in front of it that people in the theater would get motion sickness and stomp out, demanding a refund. I don't know what it is, if it's because of something done to me by my environment, or something I did to myself that I didn't expect, or if it's something far simpler than it seems. I feel like I need to step out into lonleiness, out into real isolation, something.
I do not know where any of this is going.
I swear I'm going to get myself a portable MP3 CD player.
I went to the gym this morning, as I have been for the last few weeks. Normally the radio is playing a decent mix of pop, classic rock and DJ interludes (with things like "the song of the day", having kids call in with their best jokes, etc). It's quite good to work out to as there are high energy moments and low energy moments. This morning however, some genius decided to turn it to some talk radio station! Myself and the guys I work out with listened for an hour to a discussion with the following topic:
"Should my four year old be allowed to get platform shoes?"
This annoyed me not only because there was no music, but because a topic that was potentially interesting and a cadidate for good discussion was completely wasted. All you had were soccer moms calling in and rehashing the same points over and over. "Is it sexual?" "If she wants to wear something let her." "You're her mom, you can tell her what she can and can't wear."
If the discussion had branched out into other topics such as why the child wanted to wear them, was it to try to be a sexual being or was it just because her friends (or her mom) wore platform shoes? If the child wants to learn how to earn money and buy the shoes (or whatever else she wants), should you let her? There was so much potential there for something interesting to be talked about that wasn't it was crushing. Well, not really, cause I just wanted to listen to some U2 and Stones.
Just in case this new radio station is going to be a permenant change, I'm going to get myself a nice MP3-CD player that can be strapped to me somehow so I can listen to whatever I want while pumping iron.
About a month ago, I began dating this really great guy. For privacy sake, we will call him Fred. Fred is an amazing individual. He has this unique sense of humor, good looks, all a chick could ask for in a boyfriend. All except the psycho bitch from hell ex-girlfriend. Yep ladies, all the "keepers" have this problem.
Since the beginning of our relationship, she (we will call her Jennifer) has caused us problems. First she says she is happy we have found each other. Ten minutes later, she is calling me a whore, a bitch, and I am sure she has used a few other choice words. God KNOWS I have used some for her.
Today, the problems all exploded in my face. She has gotten others involved, and everything was a mess. Basically, she is acting like a two-year-old, I have taken her "toy" ("toy" being "Fred"), and she will throw a pissy-fit untill she gets it back. Well, I've got news for you "Jennifer"......OVER MY DEAD BODY.
The great thing about still being in school is that I can really look forward to short, meaningless holidays, such as our mid-term break that's just past. Because I'm a boarder (yes, so pity me) I get ten days. Yes, ten, with which to do what I please. And it just so happened that my parents were going off to Hong Kong for a few days. Strictly business though. I managed to persuade them to get me a ticket too. I stayed on a while longer than they did. Strictly pleasure.
The reason I wanted to go back to Hong Kong is because I used to live there. And about a week before we moved back to Britain, I finally went out with this amazing girl on whom I had been crushing heavily for quite a while. It didn't really go anywhere, but we have spent the past three years sending letters every single week. This is quite an amount of communication. Then in January I stopped in HK for three days on the way back from Bali. (Yes, I get great holidays. So sue me.) Guess who I decided to meet?
It got better and better. She was coming to England for a while in summer. But it was during term time, and so we were reduced to phone calls, and then, when she carried on to Belgium, text messaging. We steadily got more and more intense over the summer, just as another almost-relationship of mine fizzled out. Then this. This was another step above. This week was some of the most amazing time I have ever spent with anyone.
It wasn't all mad passion. Some was. But not all. There was enough just taking moonlit walks and holding hands. We spent so much time together that her family got jealous. We did all the things that I had always wanted to do with her: we went out for a really nice dinner together, we took a boat out and rowed into a little beach, and we even waterskied. We took dinner at her house and I was very polite to her parents. And we also spent a ridiculous amount of time just entwined in each others arms.
It was bad enough going back to work on a monday, let alone after 5 days off, and wondering what Anthrax horror awaits. I was not enjoying Scanlon Freeman the UFO expert on Art Bell's, and Stair's preaching harshly against Christians like Schuller and Graham.
When I went to the time clock, I notice the note taped under it: for when Cipro was available. It was Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday...the days I was off with my son. It said it was a three day window only. Well, I know I didn't want to take it, anyway. I notice not everyone working on the floor is wearing the masks, some are the more efficient kind with dual filters on the side, while the others are the simple fiber kind.
I am depressed all day long. Hearing stories of Hazmat people supposedly coming to our box section Saturday and spraying. More than a dozen vacuums are lined up in the hallway (to be checked out.) I hear there are hot spots on the letter sorting machines, but they're not telling which ones. We are behind in the mail because we have Washington's mail, too. We hear that some of these Brentwood station employees walked out when talk of possible contamination was with us, too. Talk is all about what they are not telling us.
Put this one with the Scary Short Quest, and this one's real. I am mostly upset because I feel I'm not acting brave enough with my faith. I am but a mere mortal.
but only for a moment...i had some 25 writeups nuked while i was gone. among them, some very touching commentary about my brothers. doesn't matter, really. no one wants to know.
niall is leaving for las cruces on wednesday. again, nothing i can say, nothing i can do. i sit, i watch... "From here, you'll watch the world go by, and doesn't it look sad..."
yes. it looks very sad. too bad i can't feel it. i almost wish i could take part in the seeping grey sadness that has infected this part of reality lately. but i can't...i can't care. i try, and nothing happens. i've been told i'm brave, been told i'm cold...it's really neither. i'm just...no, numb implies some sort of shock to the system...empty implies some sense of loss. i guess it's not what i am, it's what i'm not, and right now, even that is hard to hold on to.
i remember being sick. i remember being angry. i don't remember why. i'm certain it's quite irrelevant...or maybe it isn't. maybe if i could understand it, i could feel something. i suppose i am feeling something, though, to be honest. it's a wild sense of wonder...everything is so random, so unconnected to anything else, and yet it's all related if i take the time to look...but why look too long? the world is spinning in some last dance of manic glee before it collapses into the usual heap. i can see it, and i can know it, but i can't join it.
i wish i were on drugs so i could stop taking them.
i'm very sick, and i don't understand what's wrong. if i could make the body well, perhaps i could think properly again.
i'm tired. very tired. i'm tired of the terrorists, too. i think i would like to talk to them, to make them understand how good it is to be alive and to feel...having lost it, i can speak well of the presence of uncontrollable mental and physical response to external stimulus. i burned myself today. an accident, bt one it took a few moments to register. yes, i would like to teach them what it is like here, inside this sensory-deprivation flesh. praise allah, indeed, sir. you can feel pain. you can fervently desire. i could kill an enemy and take no joy in it, feel no remorse, or even a sense of job well done. be glad you can still enjoy what you do.
yes. i have become something else. i have become apathetic. i remember reading about the grey waste in the planescape books...i suddenly understand.
i am in no position to have an opinion at this time.
Lisa was finishing a draft of her midterm paper, and I helped her correct and rephrase a few sentences. She wasn't very good with typing, so I asked to switch seats so I can type while she thinks up of corrections. We had a bit of a time breaking down the idea of intellectual and moral virtues from Aristotle, but I had enough of a mind to make things read better.
After wrapping up the typing work, we went off to the city through the subway. . . We had to transfer a couple of stations to go to midtown Manhattan, but I didn't mind. We talked a little about the shows we watched as much as talking about ourselves. Mixed with a cupful of silence, and we were cool. Lisa took a nap next to me, and I had to give her a wake-up call when the train stopped in 14th Street (Union Square), and we took another train up to 33rd St. - Arci's Place territory.
We parted ways, and I took the train upwards to the Grand Central Terminal, where I was walking and contemplating going to The (Probably) First-Ever Double Noder Birthday Bash Supreme with Cherries. I don't have a very good first impression of the birthday girls because they found each other extremely easier than me trying to find Ms. Right, but I can relent.
"It does not matter. It hardly matters."
I am listening to Mates of State trying to make myself feel better. Here I am, in my college years, the best years of my life. And I don't know what to do to make myself feel better.
I tried going to the gym. I just felt weak and out of shape. It used to make me feel so much better. Food used to make me feel better. Reading used to make me feel better. And taking showers, and writing stories, and listening to music. A lot of things used to pull me right out of these moods.
I guess I am just your typical whiney Liberal Arts college student. Now I just wait for my boyfriend to call me. So I can talk to him. Poor kid is off taking a physics final right now though. All my friends are refusing to let me drink because I have the flu. So I guess I'll have to find something else.
On another note, long distance relationships are harder than you think they will be. I thought it would be ok. But its much harder than I thought. How can you be on the other side of the world (or atleast the country) while the person you care most about is stressed out and there is nothing you can say. Its much harder to miss someone when you know how long you have to miss them for. Its easy to miss them, I mean, its just hard on you.
If these are the best years of my life I give up.
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