attributing meaning when there doesn’t seem to be any around

It’s 4:36 am right now and most of you are sleeping, resting in your slumber. I, on the other hand, am not sleeping, nor do I think I care much at this moment. My mind has been a terribly abusive thing to me lately, not letting me just enjoy the moments, savor the experience for more than a second or two. Then the inevitable nagging of life choices and getting things done becomes the loudest voice in the room.

Or rather, the screaming has become a little too loud for me to ignore.

I have very little time to hone this opening chapter to my memoir before my class starts. What is it about having no time that is the ultimate motivation, while absolute freedom breeds a lax and lazy float by, sailing gently down the river of time? When I was living in NY there was no time for anything. I was at school in the mornings most days, and then I worked in the afternoons Tues-Saturday as a call center manager. I had no time to do even think, let alone feel like I was living my life. I wasn’t exactly living, I was merely surviving, and though most who saw me couldn’t recognize the sweat of underlying panic almost always sitting as an invisible weight on my shoulders, I felt it and it sucked. I didn’t mind being a student, not there, but I did resent pretty much every person I ran into who was a student there who wasn’t suffering through an impossible school study and work schedule. Which really wasn’t anyone that I met, given nobody was as insane as I was to take on 4 classes and 40 hours of work a week. You won’t hear me say much about Columbia, but I can say this. It was very rich. Rich in many things which I enjoy, from the culture and high gloss that seemed to permeate even from the ground, but also rich in a “I can’t afford to buy a $10 sandwich but nobody else seems to sweat anything they pony up for on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I wanted to live there, for sure, but I think I would wait a few years before even considering any of that right now.

But now, with all of this time, my discipline has largely suffered and right now I do freebird things are imagine my life is moving towards something bigger, though there are many things I could do and say and write about to make it all a moneyed operation, which I think I might do. Nothing you would pay for, but just wait, you’ll see.

So…ehhhh…sigh. The past few days have been a little strange, I guess you could say. Thursday some fucker who jacked my debit card number charged his internet porn onto it. All hundred bucks of it, right before rent was due (how cute). Then the terror of that seemed to be compounded by the fact that I then had to get my period (tmi? get over it, this is real life here) not even two weeks after I had it the last time–which, coincidentally was still five days early and lasted the whole time I was at the writer’s workshops. It seems my body does seem to be affected by that little stress thing. Which I guess I let blow up into big stress things sometimes. I think that I probably tend to internalize my issues more than I can ever blow up on anyone else. It’s just not in my nature to be mean, especially in instances (which are most admittedly) where the person hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve it. There are exceptions to every rule though, and sometimes it’s not about being mean, but making a point that for whatever reason seems to be ignored.

Well so that whole thing was awesome. So I literally lost my mind that day and was convinced something was very very wrong with me, and that my iud needed to be removed asap. It had been in just over 5 years to it was time, but my mind basically had me murdered and committed to ash in about ten minutes and basically for the rest of the day. I thought it had stabbed me or had gotten hooked, that it was growing into a tumor or something (because admittedly sometimes I am paranoid, and really, having gone through my shit, you would be too). With the amount of times my ass has been radiated, that’s what you might assume, which is why I have changed my diet largely to be almost vegan, and why I do things like tai chi and qi gong. I also am trying to interject lots of yoga into my schedule as well so I can really get the good energy flowing.

So anyways, after I had suffered another seemingly terminal illness for the entire rest of the weekend (yes, my mind tends to fixate heavily sometimes on my death, given it’s something I am not altogether unfamiliar with understanding). I finally got that bitch out today. And oh, wow, that is not fun. At all. It is not unlike the sensation you might feel of someone pulling your belly button out of your crotch. And ouch I lost my train of thought here it hurt that bad, but it was also not unlike that weird internal tickling feeling you get when someone pulls a chest tube or breathing tube out from inside you. Freaky to consider, and even more astonishing how quickly your body tends to hold onto foreign objects and grow around them. I have a tube on the side of my body, corrugated almost, curling down from underneath my right arm pit lumping and curving like a small snake down to my right groin. It never comes out, as it was used to divert blood from my arms to my legs during my second surgery so I would not be paralyzed, as they were repairing those iliac arteries.

www.hemodinamiadelsur.com.ar/journals/journal_108.asp Apparently I have the insides of an older person and the outsides of something else. The average age for those with my aneurysm repair was 72 in this study. 95% were male. I was 19 the first time, literally turning 19 in the middle of the days during my first hospitalization for this factor. I survived shit some men do not, I’d venture to say.

10:36 am, now. This is where you stop reading if: you’re christian, or say, out of touch with yourself almost literally.

So I’ve decided sex and I need to get reacquainted a little more regularly than has been the case over the past few years. I enjoy it, maybe a little too much, but I also tend to get obsessed with the bullshit details that don’t matter, to the point where I will actually guilt trip myself for having it if enough time has not passed for the other party to develop respect for me, and not make me feel like a whore for wanting it. Yeah, we are talking no one night stands…well, that was kind of my motto anyways. Yes, it’s a healthy human thing, I get it, but for some odd reason I hold onto my chastity for years at a time, only to then sloppily break my own rules when it gets a little hot and heavy. I totally get the friends with benefits thing in theory, though I hate having that idea trump all other possibility for a true connection. But you know what, sometimes sex is just sex and is just fun. Granted we all hope for that mind blowing eye-to-eye connection, but sometimes you have to give those ideas up for reality–to fuck is to bring it all down to a primal level, to remove all reason and just follow your animal instinct. I have had this body boxed up and badly hidden, stretching for more for far too long. It’s not to say I have suddenly turned easy, no way. But I can also admit that there is something really funny about the fact that too many men I have gone out with end up paying for most of the entertainment and food, only to then demand to return home to have the expectation of payback fulfilled. One thing I do know: I don’t need you, I want you when I decide that’s what I want to do. You boys have been very replaced (well your function anyways) by technology. Battery powered technology. And you know what, I am a total guy when I am done. Just my thoughts and where my imagination goes are enough for me to make up for the missing heartbeat in the room. And when I am there, I pass out in a heap, forgetting all about the object of my imagination, more satisfied that I don’t have to even bother kicking a guy out for annoying the shit out of me. And then I nap for a while, happy I don’t have to worry about waking anyone up, or developing resentment if they slide to the other side of the bed or don’t touch me the way I need them to touch.

It is a very NYC male thing to do, demand to cash in that payment, so some of you guys are in the high ranks of some of the most emotionally underdeveloped men in the country. Not cool. If I want to fuck you, there will be no doubt that is what I want from you. If I don’t, well, you might be left questioning, wondering, given my hints are usually that heavy. And if I do have sex with you, well, you are in a very small minority.

Speaking of NY. I am headed back there, well, NJ, actually, to take care of my beautiful pit bull Sophie at the end of August. E is going to Paris with his girlfriend and I miss my dog. A ton. I miss my friends too, so they will have to be photographically immortalized on film while I am out there. I have to do a better job of that than I have been lately for sure. I take so many photos every day with the intention of using them as illustration points, and then usually forget to put them up or miss my self imposed deadlines.

I have also realized I have turned into a psycho networking person, obsessed with checking the news, my email, my facebook, my blog, to see if any of you fuckers are reading it. And there always seems to be something, some numbers of you guys online, but I can’t see you and you are all ridiculously quiet. I miss my livejournal days when everyone commented on your stuff–I have roughly 500 entries and close to 1800 comments. But those all happened before this sucker migrated. I know you have stuff to say, sometimes at least?!? It drives me crazy. You don’t even have to use your real name, just don’t be a douche. And yeah…I do have it so that copying my stuff is kind of a pain in the ass. So you should try and compose your note on notepad if you want to say something. Sorry, that’s just my own wish to be a complete pain in the ass…

How about this. Send me song recommendations. I have to say I make it a point never to google stalk anyone, as you clearly cannot believe everything you read on the internet. I have google stalked people I have dated in the past, to see if they were still up to the same old stuff. But I talk to most of them anyways, and there is nobody who was really close and important I don’t talk to with some frequency, even if just once a year. I was asked that recently, not to use it for evil I think the request was? I don’t care enough about negativity and try to eliminate it as much as I can from my immediate circles. I need to record dear www and read it here on the internet so you guys can hear it. I can youtube it. Yup, that’s today’s goal that will get fulfilled. And then the other thing I have been promising for a while. The years 2000-2003 from a blog where I was a little pierced up dreded out little thing. I was cute as hell for sure. But I still think me now is not a far cry from this girl in terms of cuteness. I seem to be aging pretty gracefully for a once pretty stressed out little thing. I came to the mountains, to the desert and and found my peace again. No more dreams of what if and why not, more of what is. I made one of my biggest dreams come true by moving here, something I would literally dream about doing at least once every few months and more in the beginning from 1988 on. Then I came only what, 22 years later–oh wow, that is the truth.

I need to be working on my first chapter for the memoir, checking in with the people there, to expand upon my memories of what happened back then. The way I am tying the memoir together is revealing some stuff I never ever ever would talk about here, and also tying it all together by showing how the defining thing in my life came around almost full circle and is close to being sealed off as more time passes while I am here. I need to just turn my damn internet tethering from the phone off and get ‘er done.

I finished this an hour ago, and it is now 12:14 pm.

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