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kleenexwomanHave thought of a beginning line and scenario for my RPS. So that's one good thing.
Have also dug out my P.J. O'Rourke books from the basement and have found, with the help of a dear friend whom I can only talk to over IM, an archive of "Family Ties" scripts. I'd rather see a few episodes of the show, but I don't think any local channels carry it. Possible title: "Youth, Innocence, and a Bad Haircut." Yeah, I know it's a silly idea, but as long as I can write again, I'm going to resurrect as many simple, plotless, silly, smutty ideas as possible and see what happens.
Have also randomly caught a generic sitcom with a cameo by Kevin Smith in which he played himself. And he's really, really balding in this one little spot at the back of his head, which I didn't expect. And he also did a minute over the credits as Silent Bob, smoking uncomfortably at the camera. I am taking this as a Sign. I don't know what as a sign of, but it did cheer me up immensely.
I'm actually feeling very contradictory at the moment. I finally managed to find a drugstore that sold St. John's Wort, although in capsule form. Took a couple of them at lunch (instructions say 2 pills 3 times a day), and I feel better and worse than I have for a while. Before, it was a very dull feeling, like everything was probably going to be OK but I was depressed anyway. Now it's as though I'm right on the edge of something horrible that's going to happen, and I know that something horrible is going to happen and I really don't want it to, but I could care less for no particular reason at all. Does this happen often with St. John's Wort? I do get fucked up on aspirin, remember. I obviously don't have much of a tolerance for, um, anything. Of course, it's possible that it's not the St. John's Wort and it's...something else entirely, don't know what.
I have to go back to college on Sunday and I don't really want to go. I hate my dorm room.
I'm not sure who I've been this past week. I've had one person tell me that I'm not behaving like myself, one person tell me that I'm behaving too much like my old self (I didn't know I had old and new selves), and one person tell me that she didn't know who I was. Anymore.
Is honesty truth? The person I've been the most painfully honest with this past week is the person who knows the least about me anymore. I suppose it's like reading binary--the heart of the machine language won't show you the colors on the screen. Or maybe I'm just inventing intense emotions for myself that I don't really have, and I really am made up of a hollow cloud of opinions.
I was also trying to work things out over IM with Tammy and stay friends or something. I'm not sure why that is, and I know it's a dumb thing for me to do. I just want to return her books and get my jewelry and stuff back, but every time I IM her to arrange time and place, I end up whingeing at her to give me another chance. She gave me some kind of emotional fulfillment that I miss, but I can't figure out exactly what it is and I suppose I'll have to make myself go without it for a while.
It's clear that it's never going to happen. There are too many tangled emotions and motivations and interpretations to pick through, too many what-ifs and should-haves and loose ends to set straight. It's her territory, and I'm completely lost in it. I tell myself that I'm not going to get tangled up in it again and I'll let loose ends be, but I end up pulling on strings and getting myself tangled up in the emotional equivalent of piano wire covered with Elmer's glue.
This didn't happen with Ben or Dan when I broke up with them. Then again, those breakups weren't nearly as nasty. With Ben, it was simply that I didn't have romantic feelings for him--we agreed to stay friends with no hard feelings, and it's worked quite well. We looked at the situation from an objective point of view. With Dan, it was a matter of mutual forgive/forgetfulness. The incident which caused us to break up simply ceased to mean anything to our friendship, and we're closer than ever.
This time, it was too complicated. I keep seesawing between being absolutely certain that I'm far better off without her and missing her desperately. When I'm certain that I'm better off without her, I'm afraid I'm rather self-righteous and insulting. When I'm missing her, I grovel and whine. I'm not behaving like a rational human being either way.
Maybe I should give myself a mini-program to follow. Whack myself in the head with a rubber balloon while repeating, "It's over, it's over, it's over" out loud. I'm stretching it out, it's getting tiresome and pathetic, and she clearly hates me anyway. I'm only making things worse on both myself and her.
ETA: I think I've figured out what I missed about her, and I said part of it in my last post. We were, after all, mainly writing partners. She was right about that, anyway. Our whole relationship was based on us writing together--we had nothing else in common. That's how we became friends and it's how I fell in love with her and that's what I always wanted to talk about with her. And when we decided to stop writing with each other and concentrate on The Relationship instead, that's when I started to want to get out of it. For me, it never moved beyond that stage. Writing--it's like sex, in a way. This explains a hell of a lot about my own psyche.
ETA again: I typed this all up at 3 AM on Notepad last night. It's now noon, and I'm reading it back to myself. From the distance of 9 hours sleep, it sounds like I'm being incredibly weak-willed and pathetic. Which, granted, I am. Was. Am.
But it's a new day! There's snow on the ground! I'm going out to buy school supplies later if my dad's back doesn't give out! Filters are off, warp drive is engaged, volume is turned up to eleven and I am fully prepared to plow unsteadily ahead until I collapse in someone's arms. In any case, I shall remember what Bill Murray said to the Asian angel who baked the dwarf bread muffins: "Remember, angels, the heart is a muscle, and eventually you'll be able to bench-press Joey from "Friends"." Or something like that. It didn't make sense when I watched it, either.
Maybe the St. John's Wort is just finally kicking in.
Have also dug out my P.J. O'Rourke books from the basement and have found, with the help of a dear friend whom I can only talk to over IM, an archive of "Family Ties" scripts. I'd rather see a few episodes of the show, but I don't think any local channels carry it. Possible title: "Youth, Innocence, and a Bad Haircut." Yeah, I know it's a silly idea, but as long as I can write again, I'm going to resurrect as many simple, plotless, silly, smutty ideas as possible and see what happens.
Have also randomly caught a generic sitcom with a cameo by Kevin Smith in which he played himself. And he's really, really balding in this one little spot at the back of his head, which I didn't expect. And he also did a minute over the credits as Silent Bob, smoking uncomfortably at the camera. I am taking this as a Sign. I don't know what as a sign of, but it did cheer me up immensely.
I'm actually feeling very contradictory at the moment. I finally managed to find a drugstore that sold St. John's Wort, although in capsule form. Took a couple of them at lunch (instructions say 2 pills 3 times a day), and I feel better and worse than I have for a while. Before, it was a very dull feeling, like everything was probably going to be OK but I was depressed anyway. Now it's as though I'm right on the edge of something horrible that's going to happen, and I know that something horrible is going to happen and I really don't want it to, but I could care less for no particular reason at all. Does this happen often with St. John's Wort? I do get fucked up on aspirin, remember. I obviously don't have much of a tolerance for, um, anything. Of course, it's possible that it's not the St. John's Wort and it's...something else entirely, don't know what.
I have to go back to college on Sunday and I don't really want to go. I hate my dorm room.
I'm not sure who I've been this past week. I've had one person tell me that I'm not behaving like myself, one person tell me that I'm behaving too much like my old self (I didn't know I had old and new selves), and one person tell me that she didn't know who I was. Anymore.
Is honesty truth? The person I've been the most painfully honest with this past week is the person who knows the least about me anymore. I suppose it's like reading binary--the heart of the machine language won't show you the colors on the screen. Or maybe I'm just inventing intense emotions for myself that I don't really have, and I really am made up of a hollow cloud of opinions.
I was also trying to work things out over IM with Tammy and stay friends or something. I'm not sure why that is, and I know it's a dumb thing for me to do. I just want to return her books and get my jewelry and stuff back, but every time I IM her to arrange time and place, I end up whingeing at her to give me another chance. She gave me some kind of emotional fulfillment that I miss, but I can't figure out exactly what it is and I suppose I'll have to make myself go without it for a while.
It's clear that it's never going to happen. There are too many tangled emotions and motivations and interpretations to pick through, too many what-ifs and should-haves and loose ends to set straight. It's her territory, and I'm completely lost in it. I tell myself that I'm not going to get tangled up in it again and I'll let loose ends be, but I end up pulling on strings and getting myself tangled up in the emotional equivalent of piano wire covered with Elmer's glue.
This didn't happen with Ben or Dan when I broke up with them. Then again, those breakups weren't nearly as nasty. With Ben, it was simply that I didn't have romantic feelings for him--we agreed to stay friends with no hard feelings, and it's worked quite well. We looked at the situation from an objective point of view. With Dan, it was a matter of mutual forgive/forgetfulness. The incident which caused us to break up simply ceased to mean anything to our friendship, and we're closer than ever.
This time, it was too complicated. I keep seesawing between being absolutely certain that I'm far better off without her and missing her desperately. When I'm certain that I'm better off without her, I'm afraid I'm rather self-righteous and insulting. When I'm missing her, I grovel and whine. I'm not behaving like a rational human being either way.
Maybe I should give myself a mini-program to follow. Whack myself in the head with a rubber balloon while repeating, "It's over, it's over, it's over" out loud. I'm stretching it out, it's getting tiresome and pathetic, and she clearly hates me anyway. I'm only making things worse on both myself and her.
ETA: I think I've figured out what I missed about her, and I said part of it in my last post. We were, after all, mainly writing partners. She was right about that, anyway. Our whole relationship was based on us writing together--we had nothing else in common. That's how we became friends and it's how I fell in love with her and that's what I always wanted to talk about with her. And when we decided to stop writing with each other and concentrate on The Relationship instead, that's when I started to want to get out of it. For me, it never moved beyond that stage. Writing--it's like sex, in a way. This explains a hell of a lot about my own psyche.
ETA again: I typed this all up at 3 AM on Notepad last night. It's now noon, and I'm reading it back to myself. From the distance of 9 hours sleep, it sounds like I'm being incredibly weak-willed and pathetic. Which, granted, I am. Was. Am.
But it's a new day! There's snow on the ground! I'm going out to buy school supplies later if my dad's back doesn't give out! Filters are off, warp drive is engaged, volume is turned up to eleven and I am fully prepared to plow unsteadily ahead until I collapse in someone's arms. In any case, I shall remember what Bill Murray said to the Asian angel who baked the dwarf bread muffins: "Remember, angels, the heart is a muscle, and eventually you'll be able to bench-press Joey from "Friends"." Or something like that. It didn't make sense when I watched it, either.
Maybe the St. John's Wort is just finally kicking in.
