Monday Monday

Perhaps I should have called this blog something more like "anxiety dump" or something, because as far as I can tell, I'm not writing this because of grief, but because I finally caught myself anxiously spiraling and breathed in the rain and now am trying to see if there's anything in my brain that needs to be let out.

I'm rather tired, and want to go to bed, now that I've wrenched myself away from endless youtube trailers that make me want a significant other more desperately than usual. But I just went outside and felt so...peaceful. It's kinda annoying that that peacefulness can flip flop so easily on me. I just came off of a great weekend, where I reconnected with Becky, and feel super great about my friendship with her, a source of mild anxiety for a few months now, and bam, two days later, I'm barely --wait. ONE day later! (gah!) --I'm barely keeping an even keel! Although I did eat my supper-salad at the table, even though I was alone, like a real human being.

Anyway, still anxious about car buying, frustrated at any help my mom tries to give me, etc, etc, and totally annoyed at myself for not getting rid of the blue volvo sooner! What a headache! I wish I felt more joy at the excitement of a new car, but mostly, I feel concerned that I will overpay for a bad car. Well, going to bed now.

Post written Aug 5--when without internet

I hold entirely too dear the imagined disconnect between my keenings and a potential listener. I suppose that is why simple listening is powerful: it surprises, everytime.

I muse sometimes, that my self-centered language is more elaborate and affected than my otherwise-centered  language. Am I trying to impress myself and others with my capacity for deep thought? I thoroughly despise language too figurative to be grasped in one reading. I suppose I am capable, or contain the capacity, at least, for decoding others’ frufru language, but when it comes to my own feelings, I can’t record anything simply. I am reminded of a famous quote (google for citation/author/correct quotation thankyouverymuch): “Forgive me for the long letter; I had no time for a short one.”

Perhaps that is it. Feelings must be found, excavated, decoded, categorized and filed, so skimping on demystifying and translating is a small relief.  After all, who can blame me for self-indulgence in a journal that happens to be available online, should someone choose to visit it.

I miss Omar. But I fear I miss our potential together. It might, of course, still exist, should one of us choose to move near the other. But I have thus far consciously rejected as much as possible the idea of loving missing him for who he is because I worry I haven’t known him long enough. I wasn’t able to show my whole self that fast. It must be that I know I haven’t shown all of myself, so I suspect he has far far more in him, so the uncertainty of missing him feels unsafe—what if I miss someone I’ve completed in my head to be someone else? And all that worry is only possible because while he was here, I found a fast friend in him. He just left before I had time to find anything else.

Addendum

It's just that respect is so conditional with him! I don't think I'll ever respect him, but if I said that, he would say, "Just wait until you're older and more mature."
FUCK. I don't think I know anyone that makes more mature decisions. I'm so goddamn law-abiding, that as a student I did not once sneak alcohol on campus, unlike numerous HPs. I don't think I, wait, ONCE, I drank someone else's alcohol on campus as a student. once.

It's like I'm allergic to rule-breaking, I'm so scared of authority. And he thinks I'm an idiot young person? When the hell do I start getting modicums of respect? When I've got a stable job? Oh, wait, my job is stable. When I get one in my field? No one graduates and works in the same field. When I wear a suit to work. Great, better dust off the suit and wear it to the coffeeshop. This is idiotic. If you don't respect me a little bit now, where is the rest of the respect going to come from?

And it's not like I started out hating him. I have a pretty goddamn healthy fear of disobeying authority figures.

Bout-to-Cry Build Up

I'm not sure what direction to go in, and feel too satisfied with my job and my apartment to want to move. I can't imagine going through the irritation of moving, just because I "needed a change." I don't think I'll ever really crave change for change's sake.

I'm really looking forward to teaching at art camp next week, but I wonder, is teaching self-absorbed? I can't help feeling that I'll enjoy it, but partially just because I get to be in charge, and I'll feel like I'll be important to other people. And for some reason, I keep rejecting that as a selfish reaction. I will want a job that

• lets me feel important, 
• where I can make decisions 
• and be in charge of something, preferably people. Working with people who give me things to do, but let me do the same to them would be fine, too.

And that's it, I think. The hell am I supposed to do with that? I feel like an idiot, now that I've done like ten minutes research into an internship with the Iowa House of Representatives. It's basically volunteering. And it sounds like volunteering to be a very unimportant gopher. I would be a good executive assistant, I think. But how would I get into that? And I'd like to be a part of something, not a glorified valet. I don't know, I think the more important issue is that I'm too scared and too satisfied to look. Like getting my car fixed...and buying a new one. I feel like I'm still too scared to really do much of anything important. I kinda started doing some workouts to do triathalons a few months ago, and just let it peter out.

And on top of that, I've had this feeling for hours now that I should be crying, but I feel too numb to. As if I'm on a brink of an emotional precipice. And I can't quite convince myself that it'd be ok to fall in. Even though I've done it plenty of times before.

Omg, I almost cried today acknowledging something dumb...what was it? Maybe it was talking about getting a new muffler for the car, I don't remember. It was just so disproportional. I mean, it's natural, because I've had this about-to-cry-feeling for about half a day. I almost wanted to watch tear-inducing movies to get it out!

This might be the most even-keeled state I've ever written a post in...but it feels so fake. Arg! I write that, but know that I yawned when I arged, too, so... But I can tell this mundane record is helping me access more resolved and more peaceful feelings. I feel a bit less emotionally plugged. I just wish I could let it out a bit more easily...but then again, I've never really identified with hippified "inner-goddess" nonsense! I realized today...I don't remember the last time I hugged Elena. We are so...do chill? So i don't know. Most of the emotions I associate with E involve solidarity against Bob's domineering personality and resignation to Mom's helplessness. He is such an ass. At what point does me saying that stop being a teenagery rebellion? I really wish I could sever more ties with him. It's just...he's inhabited my childhood home, my father's workbench, the ass. I can't get rid of him. And Alice even thought he might be emotionally abusive. uh.


I should journal more regularly. I think I let this build up too much.

Staying

What am I doing?
I graduated today.
And I'm crying so hard that I can't swallow because the snot in my nose is so thick and abundant that my ears will feel the pressure of a swallow.
Why did I do that? I could have just stayed and gotten a normal degree and I could have fixed my fucked up grades. (Cum Laude is so kind of embarassing.)
And what if I never see my best friend from this year again? We got so close this year, and watched so many movies and I'm going to miss him. Dammnit I miss him now! And he's just left town sometime... probably. I don't know. This year, he developed deeper friendships, and I, I just lonlied. Why did I do that? But I did this before! This feels like graduating from high school. Nothing like big celebratory events to make me feel lonely. But I had such a great year. I mean, it sucked, but I had the best spring I've had in three years. And now? Now I'm going to write out what I'll say to my mom when she tries to comfort me about a poem I wrote. She snuck a peek into the poetry compilation when I couldn't stop her.

And I miss dating. Not that I ever did much, but I miss feeling physically close, side pressed to side. And I want so desperately to cry in front of someone. Someone who I can be held by.

Everyone is so happy for me, so surprised, so congratulatory. And I just want someone to mourn my previous life with me. Even though I'm staying here.

Staying in the same place after I graduate is leaving and staying all at once. And it feels like it's mostly staying behind.

Lingering here after I graduate is leaving and staying all at once. And it feels like it's mostly staying behind. 

There are photos everywhere already, of everyone else. I have a few pictures others took, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for pictures of me on my phone.

• Was I celebrating? Or just mourning my success here?
• They were better friends with each other.
• Why should I draw attention to myself. I'm not really even proud of what I did--because I just rearranged my old accomplishments to get here. I had no finals, no senior presentation.

So now, I'm just, being here. No pictures on facebook to say the words for me: Surprise! I graduated with a less difficult degree because I didn't want to spend more time and money here after a mental health year! Yay!

A Museum Tour

I wish you could meet my Dad.

I would take you on a tour of Dad, like in a museum. “This is my Dad. Everyone says he could get along with anybody,” I’d say.

“Not always,” he’d say, and then he’d charm you and surprise me with a new story about that one time.

Moving along, in the next exhibit, you can observe his beer growler collection. You can tell he had taste because liked such a variety. And next to this perfectly preserved collection, there is an audio recording of him raving about the German beers he imported, in case you doubted his enthusiasm.

That collage right there shows him entertaining various children, mostly the kids of his sisters and my Mom’s friends. Note that dangling upside down by one foot technique: astute scholars of my father’s life will draw connections with my ability to entertain one- and two-year-olds by tipping them upside down while held in a tight embrace. It turns out, children find it difficult to cry when upside down.

Now we come to the sailboat wing. This one is the first one he owned. I actually saw it once, when Dad recognized it on our favorite lake. But this one is the one he brought everyone out to the lake to sail on during my childhood. I’ve preserved the feeling of the tarp on my fingertips, but luckily he’s the curator here, so he can answer questions about ropes and how to fly a hull.

As the tour guide, I would also be sure to take you on a detailed examination of his physical characteristics, in order to point out where I inherited things like height, teeth, my nose, and slight freckling as a kid.

And as always in a museum, I’ll probably learn something, too. People don’t like to tell stories about dead people being dicks. So how would I know about his prejudices?

If you met him, maybe I wouldn’t have to explain so much. My mere description would not have to stand in for a whole person. And my memories of Elementary school wouldn’t need prefaces. And you would just understand.

10th Birthday Cupcakes

My other memory of staying with my aunt is celebrating my birthday. She made cupcakes and had this really cool frosting idea she read about somewhere. We covered the top of the cupcake in vanilla frosting and then drew concentric circles in different colors of gel icing. Then we dragged toothpicks out from the center to create a web shape. I had such a good time making those. I used that technique later, at other birthday parties, I think. I don't think I celebrated with anyone other than my three cousins, my aunt, my uncle and my sister.