in between

Danny and i once got into a playful argument in the middle of Blockbuster a few years back over the color of my eyes. It went along the lines that I said my eyes were brown and he called me out and said they were not, they were hazel. A quick pull to a mirrored post showed that yes, compared to his eyes which were deep chocolate brown, mine
were looking pretty hazel.
But for all sense and purposes, my eyes are brown to me and when I cry, the ring around the irises turn a dark blue and get rather thick, almost as if someone drew a magic marker around the iris itself. there are tiny flecks of green/gold but they are minute and can only be seen when nose to nose. My eyes are not a beautiful hazel like shelly’s but they are, for all sense and purposes closer to a hazel then a brown if you want to get pedantic.
My eyes are like my hair, my life: my hair is neither straight nor curly. Because of it’s texture I have to use ethnic products occasionally to keep it in check. It is apparently soft as people keep wanting to touch it. My hair is also neither brown nor black, it’s closer to auburn if by judging by younger pictures of me were so (and the roots coming in). My eyebrows are black, but I’m the retarded redhead- pale skin, smattering of freckles but not enough OOMPH to make it follow through.
Christmas was weird.
I bought my brother a bottle of Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier and he was driving my car. Paul was bathed in Obsession and sitting in the back. I was stuck in the passenger seat, head hanging out of the window like a dog panting for fresh air because I was being overwhelmed by the sickly sweetness of the scents. I couldn’t even smell myself (Chance by Chanel). Both of them threatened to cut farts, if that would make me feel better. This is what it has been like for a week. I feel like I’ve been stuck in some sort of retarded boys club between the two of them — they are like night and day. We took Jeff to an Indian restaurant and Jeff decided that the food “got a check at the no box” for while he ate his lamb vindaloo, he didn’t quite care for it. We drove into DC and saw the tree at the White House. I scanned the skies for bombs and missiles.
Merry Christmas.
While I will have a kickass entertainment system I will most likely not have a couch. I have flashes of insight of me sitting in front of the patio doors in my Ikea Poang chair watching the snow fall. The living room, will of course, be empty save for my computers and the occasional animal toy. The entertainment center will be in the bedroom. Guests will be resigned to automatically sleep with me to have a place to sit. Just kidding.
I have laughed so loud today, that Paul threatened to walk out of the restaurant, and so deeply my ribs ached and I started to hyperventilate. I sat on the toilet not even two hours earlier crying so hard my chest hurt. My brother pulled me up and told me to get sweats on. We took a walk around the complex and I had put on my UUNet hoodie, which I had bought for Paul many moons ago and it had shrunk in the washer and now i coveted. I had put a jaunty scarf around my neck as we walked around the complex freezing out asses off, talking about the future. It had snowed a few inches during the night and we were having a real White Christmas, but the wind was killer and cut
through to our skin. We double timed back to the apartment, all the while my brother reassuring me that I had to just play it out and shut the fuck up.
Some things happened that I don’t think Jeff expected to see, namely Paul’s anger. Paul smashed his fists down so hard on the desk my cold cup of coffee went flying all around the desk itself and seeped into everything. A few weeks back, we went out to dinner with Rob and Paul asked me if i was taking the vacuum (or not) and before I could answer, Paul said “doesn’t matter, I’m getting a bagless one” wherein Rob looked Paul and said “why are you being a dick?” A few nights ago, my brother and I sat on the floor sorting cables. cat5 in one box, miscellany cables in a third, spare parts in the second. I took a few unopened packages of cat5 and two power strips. I begged Paul to come and look at the computer closet because I was NOT going to receive a call from him in the future begging for XYZ back. He came in after we had packed that room and we were working on the bathroom and bedroom. “Why do you need two power strips?” “Did you check the other box.” “No.” “If you checked the other box, you would have seen
that I left you two power strips along with the strips for all the other equipment that is currently plugged in.” “Why do you need cat5?” And so it began. He started nickle and diming everything. He who would take no notice of what was being packed (“You are the one whose moving!”), now wants a piece of everything.
I read in someone’s journal recently they do not remember having been loved so selflessly before by someone or at least in recent memory, as in someone who was being attentive to them rather than the other way around. Alisha also said something to me in that same effect when we were hanging out before she left for her holidays about the difference between her current beau and her past beau’s was that she had pursued them and here he had pursued her. It was such a pleasant switch, it knocked her on her ass for a second. I know I need to pull back and regroup, which is fine, but there hasn’t been a single straight thought in my head in the last 6 months and I don’t expect I’ll find it now. Just so that you know.
But I will tell you I’m terrified.
It’s a quandary I debate with myself on as I have hope for the future that one day I will be happy and hopefully that will include a partner of some kind. I’m not so much bitter as much as feeling like the dog whose been kicked around a lot and will now bite at any attempts to befriend it.
My brother remarked last night, as we were watching “Powerpuff Girls: the Movie”, that we were both wearing grey tshirts and red sweat shorts. The other interesting thing is that after many years of proclaiming a few designers worthy to be on my backside, he’s now decided they are cool and has been giving me links to their websites.
There was more important stuff but I need to sleep.
x0x0x0

predictions and journals

at the end of every relationship, it’s the same thing: the predictions. the ending of who is going to be doing what when how and whom and when this is all going to happen.
I predict that Paul will be dating again in a few months, and probably getting close to someone shortly after that. He cannot be alone, period.  He will not mourn the end of our relationship or mourn me, and hence why I’ve been doubly amused to find out that the vultures were already tap dancing around my grave thanks to Paul telling me.
Paul perdicts I’ll end up w/ either Ben or Danny. Ben because he’s new, european, tall etc ad nasuam and Danny because he’s history and apparently my eyes get big as saucers when I talk abotu either one of them.  I apparently can make no choices of my own .

single solidarity

i just removed a few paragraphs because what it was saying was not what i had wanted to say. i hate it when is start writing and it sounds like it’s convoluted between my fingers and the keyboard. i know that is the reason why i had purchased the practice books to start making my writing more stronger (is that even a proper sentence?) and i hate it when i start stumbling over things. It irritates me.
my mood changed almost 180 degrees sitting here listening to ‘stellar’ by incubus and ‘it’s been awhile’ by staind. in a sense, I’m getting home sick for grand rapids. and maybe it’s the memories. i have barely spoken two words to Danny in weeks now that he’s moved in with Karen and they are sharing a phone line. he hasn’t finished some of his projects in the house and the other night he IM’d me when i was at work and I couldn’t even really properly respond because there were other people in my cube.
i know it’s the weather. i definitely know it’s the weather. this up coming weekend tool is coming to the MCI center and it looks like an 80% chance that I’m going AND the tickets will be free AND i will be sitting my chubby little butt in boxed seats (hence why i haven’t talked to Danny because the last time i saw tool was with him in ’96 and he’s a much larger tool fan than i and i guess other than Paul, anyone I’d want to go with me is him — even though Paul isn’t going). tool’s song ‘schism’ is playing right now on spinner and I’m really excited as I’m also seeing tori next Sunday night (yeah when i do concerts, i really do them). my friend heather needs a concert buddy and i volunteered to make myself that buddy. we get along pretty well, so why not? it’s either that or sit glued in front of my computer screen all night and personally, i would rather sit there and drool over both maynard and tori — but that is just me.
i got an intense feeling of melancholy this afternoon being with rob, as we were wandering around his new area of ballston/arlington and had shuffled off to Ikea together to buy crap. I’ve been altering lately between being really content and not wanting to rock the boat and wanting to stand up and just shake the living fuck out of it.
right now my life is pretty content. I’ve got a roof over my head, a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out if i choose. I’ve got a job, money in my pocket and materialistically everything I’ve wanted (to an extent, but hey i don’t think I’ll be wearing the hope diamond anytime soon) but I’m not really happy. I’m not unhappy, I’m in this middle of the lane change and i have no idea what’s driving me crazy. things could be worse but then again, a lot of my stresses that would drive other people insane (like the whole situation with my mom) just kind of rolls of my back. There are definitely things i want to do but I’m afraid to move. I don’t feel like I’m suffocating just yet, just that I’m happily treading in water.
You do need to learn how to doggy paddle before you learn how to swim.
x0x0x
Lisa

mom’s birthday

Today is my mom’s 57th birthday.
I got a few emails from friends of the family asking if I was gonna call her and I haven’t made up my mind yet. Last time I spoke to her, which was a week ago, I started crying after the short 10 minute call. I’m sure my brother will call her. Hell, she’s found Jesus™ now, so what does she need me for?
Ufie dotted — again
Several weeks ago, my cohort Thyla and I put together a page simply called Carbonated Borscht for the Evil Geek’s Soul that parodied some funny stuff. It got mentioned on the news feature of UserFriendly and actually got /.’d. This week, Godmoma put together a page called Illiads Harem.
I have no idea what’s going through Godmoma’s head. 🙂
So, any rate, I’ve been Ufie Dotted — again. Got over 500 unique hits yesterday. Woo. That surprised me 🙂 So I felt I must update. heh.
Blatant Promotion
My buddy and yours, Mike Norton recently finished work on his new comic The Waiting Place. I got to see the um, rough draft of it when I was in Mayumphis in July. The story is really cool and the drawing is incredible. Mike is obviously, ultra excited about this.
Since I’ve met Mike back in May, he’s helped influenced my non-comic reading butt into reading comics. Now i’m addicted to Strangers in Paradise and have been looking at other comics as well — namely ones that Mike and other people have recommended.
It goes without saying I was completely detached from the fact of just how many people read comics these days. It’s almost as bad as the damn Trekkies. 🙂
Regardless, Mike came to me and asked me to promote his work since I have gotten a ton of people to read SIP and they all adore it. So PLEASE PLEASE go support a young starving artist before Mike makes me buy 15000 copies!
Speaking of comics though, I’ve been neglecting my own habits. I’m only up to early Vol 3 in SIP and haven’t had a chance to catch up. People have been offering new comics left and right and I’m going insane with the divulge of offers. Calm down people, after i move and get settled in, i’ll start my addiction back up again.
Lisa-Cross-America ’99
Well it’s been official for awhile, but you all know I’m leaving the greater Bay Area in early October.
My numwitted ex-fiancee Danny has recently informed me that he cannot drive with me and thusly I’m doing it alone. I had a brief panic attack (like ohmygodwhatifigetcaughtwithaflattireinbfetexas) — but after a minute or 100, I calmed down and realized that spending four days alone, in my car, could be a good thing (you know they say if you keep repeating something, it just might come true).
I’ve been mapping out my itinerary and it looks like i’m driving south to SoCal and then straight across crossing through NM, AZ, TX, OK, etc on my way to Atlanta. What’s in Atlanta? Why Atlanta Linux Showcase my dears. There will be the BIGGEST party that side of the Mississippi for geeks. I hit LWE, now it’s on to ALS.
I think it’ll be cool though. I will have my laptop, cell phone and all my credit cards. I will be updating on the road as I plan on spending about four days driving — maybe less depending on my speed. heh. I might end up in Atlanta on Monday night. Who knows? Anyway, I’ve been attempting to coordinate with friends about crashing at their place on the way across. So, I’ll be okay. Just look for the black Saturn with LNX and LinuxGurven stickers plastered all over it doing 80 and you’ll find me.
I realize that driving cross country is something that I’ve been dreaming about for years. I wanted the opportunity to see this great land we call home before I flee this white trashy country and go to Europe. What I can’t understand, is that with so much time available for me to do it, why I’m planning on taking a more direct route and not seeing the country. My friend James, who drove solo from SF -> Gainesville FL was telling me about the pit stops he made when he drove across — which he did twice. Not many people get the chance to see this wonderful country of ours and I’m worrying about all the extra time I’ll have.
My favorite catch phrase recently has been “But I worry”. It’s driving me insane.
I’m gonna end up in Virginia, where Shelly already has our apartment that she’s cohabitating with her bf. Everything is set into place. On one hand, I’m ultra excited about doing the move. On the other hand, I’m afraid of falling on my face.
This should be very interesting.
x0x0x0x
moi

girls who wear glasses

when i was 8 years and in the third grade, i was friends with Audrey and Valerie Ricebeck, who were fraternal twins. Val, Aud and I were like the three stooges: we were never somewhere without the others. While, like most twins, they were as different as night and day, it was strictly because of this that we three got along so well.
as best friends generally go, when one of them got something, the other two of us wanted it.
so when Val got glasses (or maybe it was Audrey — this was nearly 20 years ago — so i don’t quite remember), I had to have them to.
i faked not being able to see the blackboard, forcing my mom to take me to the eye doctors. turned out that i really did need glasses and was given a dorky pair from there on in.
later that year, Aud and Val moved to Ohio and i never heard from them again.
since that time, i’ve always grown up with an absolute hatred for glasses. my aunts tried to make me feel better about it by having gold lettered initials put in the corners (it was all the rage in the late ’70s), getting glasses that auto-darkened to the sun and basically anything that would make my life “easier”.
i never saw this to be so, though, really. you see, i was always convinced that NO ONE would touch me with glasses on. my lack of popularity or what have you was because i wore glasses. so when i started 8th grade, i begged and pleaded for contacts and eventually got them. then Nick Hill thought i was cute and we started dating as far as being in 8th grade goes and dating goes. he was the first boy i had ever kissed. later he dumped me before our “senior” trip to Cedar Point because i wouldn’t have sex with him while my best friend would. He also moved to Ohio later on that year — but that is another story.
it’s been over 14 years since that time — and granted the girl of 1985 is not the same girl in 1999 (though recently, i’ve been wondering if she and i were not the same now). and for a good chunk of that period, a very select few has ever seen me in my glasses.
i’ve worked really hard to live without them.
oh yesh, i’m blind as a bat, but i will not or would not out of sheer vanity wear my glasses. i hated them. i absolutely hated them. the frames were too big, it was this or it was that. while i made sure i went to the doctors every year or so to check my prescription, i would never get new glasses. i’ve always associated glasses with being fat and unattractive and thusly i just couldn’t see myself wearing them on a daily basis. i had brain washed myself to thinking that no one would EVER EVER want me in my glasses.
then justin came into my life and things started to change.
if i wore glasses around the house, Justin could not keep his hands off of me.
I always joked that since he loved me, he would take me regardless of what i was wearing. his argument was no, that something about how i looked in glasses (even the piece o crap ones that i owned) did “something” to him.
the pair that i had were over 10 years old, the frames were beaten, the ovals were WAY too big for my face. i only wore them when i ABSOLUTELY had to. i used to joke that you knew when i really liked you when i felt comfortable enough showing you my glasses. some people would say their insecurities would be about getting naked — with me it as about wearing glasses.
then earlier this year, i finally had enough money to spend on getting glasses AND contacts. i checked around found a place having a 2 for 1 frame sale. scheduled the appointment and viola! I walked out with 6 months worth of disposable contacts, one pair of funky frames and one pair of wireless frames.
I fell in love with my new glasses.
i would put them on when i was at home and just stare at myself. i couldn’t get or understand why glasses made me feel so, good, but these pairs did. both pairs both fit my personality and my facial features. i didn’t look fat or unattractive or trashy as i had brain washed myself to be: i looked CUTE.
but as they say, old habits die hard.
yesterday morning bean and i were playing around with my quickcam when she just adored me in my glasses. pawly saw the pictures and wrote to me nearly poetic verses about me and glasses — he intoned that i could go from “hot lil vixenous sloot to intelligent looking strong woman” in a matter of seconds with glasses on — and the irony was that every male i spoke to that day echoed the same thing!
something about girls in glassess…
i don’t get it — really.
mike said it best: he implied that a woman who would wear her glasses had moxy and self-confidence — which was really quite attractive. well duh — i mean, that is what every says about me as it is in the first place. i got to thinking. I went into the bathroom, put on the black funky pair, slapped some lipstick on and threw a funky barrette in my hair. I looked and looked.
This wasn’t the lisa i knew and adored usually — this was someone different. this was someone, in a way, i always wanted to be.
you see, for many years, people have always assumed that because i was tattooed and pierced that i would want to meet and date tattooed and pierced freaks as well. this is NOT always the case — i’ve always felt like my tastes were eclectic. while i had some common “lisa-isms” about men (tall, cute, goatee), i found that i was attracted to geeky guys. the quiet ones in the corner. the misunderstood guys who had all this passion and verve. the quiet smoldering type. with a hint of ego on the side.
the only person i’ve ever dated that was a ‘freak’ in piecing and tattooing was danny and he didn’t start his road to freak behavior till AFTER we broke up the first time around. Now he makes me look all dainty and pure with as much ink and metal he has in his body. but see, that ink and metal he has in his body makes him look really beautiful to me.
and it would ALWAYS piss me the fuck off when I would be with friends and if they knew or see some guy who had a zillion pieces of metal hanging out of his body, blue hair and wore leather like there is no tomorrow: they would ALWAYS assume that i would want to date this person. it just irritated the hell out of me.
my own reasoning for piercing and tattooing is pretty simple: i find it attractive on me. lisa without pierced nipples just don’t make sense. the tongue thing i keep waffling on (it’s in for now) — but the nipples are so me.
see, people always assume a lot of things about me: and a lot of it has to do with the impressions they get from my website or if they’ve met me in a face to face encounter. some just assume that i am this big outgoing freak and others assume that i’m this big emotional gangbusters or some even think that i can’t have any old fashioned ideas.
but see, that’s all true and not true.
growing up i was /really really/ shy. and in a lot of ways i combated that with being obnoxious and loud: just like my grandfather. i always had a smart mouth on me — and a lot of what my friends saw was that! but this didn’t mean that i never got scared or lonely or felt alone in any manner. nor did this mean that i have a hard time talking to people or feel awkward. but i make the best of it. i have a lot of gumption for a lot of things and in other areas i’m still socially retarded. like i’ve NEVER gone to a bar by myself. Ever. And up until a few weeks ago, I’ve never gone to a party or a movie alone. Those were two huge steps for me. I started hyperventilating — but I did it.
Me and glasses represent a lot of things in my head: and I can still see the very insecure, tall, too smart lisa (uh, i was always the only girl in my AP classes for a long time) who would have killed to be a dingbat if it meant that she would get a freaking date.
it’s funny.
in a lot of ways, sitting here writing this, i’ve realized that while a lot of what i’ve written may seem convoluted, there is a story here and an important one at that. i’m 27 now and i’ve realized that for the first time in a very long time, i really and i mean REALLY like who i am. while things like quitting smoking, working on my book or wearing glasses aren’t really true answers, they are paths that lead to idea of what i wanted. the problem has always been that my own representation of myself has never been as well clarified as i had always hoped it was. i always got so angry when people would just ASSUME that i was one thing when i always saw myself as being another and the wonder why there was always so many misconceptions of me.
i know it goes back to some of the original ideas i had when i was younger, that if someone really liked me (in any sense) that they would get the time to know me on a more intimate level. if they didn’t take that time or energy to invest in me — is this someone i really want in my life?
i’ve spent nearly 14 years shadowboxing the world. and i know it is because of this that people find me “amusing” because f the paradox i seemingly create. all sides are equal but they don’t match up.
i don’t think i’ll ever stop protecting myself from being hurt. likewise i don’t think i’ll stop putting people through tests but i know it’s that wearing glasses and getting pierced are really saying: if you like me, like me for my mind NOT because of what i look like or how many holes i have in my body (this is not discounting physical attractiveness — because i can be fairly shallow — but you know what i mean).
i know this is why i’ll always luv my pawly, because he gets me in a lot of root base desires that others don’t. and my danny for seeing a lot of the sides that i have and still caring about me regardless. and justin for initially setting me on the path. for shelly whose known me longer than anyone else. for bean for making me laugh and being geeky with me. and cartoon boy, who always asked the right questions and got me thinking about stuff and thinking that maybe someone would like me for being real.
a lot of who i am has everything to do with who you guys are.
i seemingly reflect the best that you all are.
i love you guys.


on that note, i’m taking off for Fresno for the day. I have to go do some “work” or something. I don’t know when i’ll be back. i have a lot of stuff to catch up on and then i take off for Memphis on Wednesday. 🙂 i may or may not update the chronicle until i get there — so be forewarned.
my favorite holiday is Halloween.
because everyday is like Halloween.
x0x0x0x0x,
moi a la mode

home is where the heart is

My birthday is in four days.
Gifts of luv, money, new life, geeky men can be sent here.
home is where the heart is
My friend Jenni from back home, sent me an email with this in it:

you need to come home before it goes…….
for old time sake, we could have a sleep over and I can snap your bra into the ceiling fan.

My mother, it seems is going through the toughest parts of her life. My step-father Robert is finally filing for divorce after being married for nearly 8 years (they have only lived together for aproximently 2 of those 8 years) and my mother has decided to file for bankruptcy. Along the lines of bankruptcy, she’s giving up the house on Paris Ave in Grand Rapids along with all the furniture inside of it.
Danny is making arrangements to have my mothers four poster cherrywood bed, cherry wood desk, my grandmothers rocking chair and the living room couch put in storage for me.
my brother Jeff got accepted to Bradley University, my mother is moving into a mansion outside of Grand Rapids with friends and I’m in SF. Any resemblance of family is now gone.
I remember back in early days, when I was a child growing up in Port Huron, MI, the big family get togethers held for every holiday. My mother is the oldest of seven children, I’m the third oldest grandchild. Now, everything is gone. My older cousins are married with kids of their own. My younger cousins Kevin, Shelly, Chris, and Paul are god knows where. My aunts are all retreated into some sort of weird lifestyle that makes them forever unmarriageable (three of my mothers sisters never did get married and all hang out together in some sort of weird lesbianism way. but they aren’t lesbians. maybe just crotchety old aunts?). My grandmother died in 1972, my grandfather passed away in 1996. My fathers side I have never had any contact with to begin with – and my father is now 72 and holed up in a nursing home in Toronto.
I am, completely alone.
And it’s been coming for years. When my mother in 1985 got the killer job offer in Grand Rapids and moved our little family of three there, all the family get togethers died. Even living just 2.25 hours away from them, I never saw them for months if not years at a time. The last time I made any effort to see my family was back in 1996 when my grandfather passed away, and I stood like an outsider at my grandfathers funeral. I knew nothing of these people anymore. My older cousins Doug and Denise who used to torture me when i was a kid had nothing to say to me. My younger cousins Kevin and Shelly were grown up — and I stood there feeling lonely than ever because I never had what I have always dreamed about: family. And I remember crying on my way back to my apartment that I shared with Danny then, because I had nothing. My relationship with my mother had been lukewarm at best, my father I never lived with save one year when I went to school in toronto, and my cousins never made an effort to contact me.
I remember sitting at my computer the day after I got back from his funeral, drinking down a fifth of absolute and paging my brother to get a bag of pot so that I didn’t have to think. No one could quite understand what was wrong with me. I never drank at home and Lisa buy pot? Oh yeah right — hell must have frozen over. I drove to the funeral on Christmas Eve, came back the day after Christmas and drunk myself into a stupor between the 26th and New Years Day.
Many people don’t understand why I feel so damn down about this — primarily because I’ve always regarded myself as an orphan in all aspects. My mother even said it herself that when I moved to SF that I had cut off all ties to family and never called, wrote or even came home. I tried going back home and making things right last Christmas, but things between me and my mom never changed and while I was happy to be back at my old stomping grounds I found that nothing was the same — and that any life for me in GR was over. I tried telling myself that I wanted to go back — and I still do — but it’s not the same. Everything has changed and I am no longer that scared little girl any more that used to sit in her bedroom crying anymore.
it’s several hours since i wrote the above, and I’m at work now. i hate when i break up a chronicle like this: writing half at home and the other half somewhere else. i lose my train of thought — and the somberness i had earlier this morning isn’t as prevalent as it is now. A good shower, shaving my legs, lots of cawfee, talking to cartoon boy, I can’t feel depressed right now.
But then again, maybe i don’t want to think about it.
it always ends up this way.

under construction

i apologize if you have been attempting to access this page within the last few days and unable to do so.
bryan, the head cheese who owns this server, has been upgrading the kernel and what not. i completely forgot he was doing so and emailed him a letter bitching. aww well.
things should be back to normal by now. i think.
check out bryan’s page. when he’s not being an obnoxious idiot grin, he is kinda handsome don’tcha think.
bryan and i were an item a few years back. i was in my “need to be controlling because my life is careening out of control” stage and he was in his “slowly getting over being burned by a psycho path” stage. it probably would have lasted if both of us didn’t freak out at our brains always thinking so much.
bryan and I don’t chit-chat much, but last i heard he was going to a shrink to stop analyzing his life so damn much.
i remember the first time had met bryan, back in ’96. I was finished with classes for the summer and was working full time at a video store. i decided i was going to take a week off and careen around Michigan and Ontario. i drove from grand rapids to port huron and then took off to detroit to see my friend patrick. patrick, unix systems guru that he is, was currently in between jobs, so at 1am, he and i took off from Toronto.
gads, we had so much fun. we drove in the middle of the night talking and smoking all the way. it was so poetic. as we drove up the Michigan coastline, we stopped at his fathers grave and at my grandmothers grave before heading across the bridge to Toronto.
wired, laden down with smoke and fueled by diet coke, we drove to bryan’s house in central Toronto.
when i first saw bryan, i thought “damn, what a hunka hunka burning love.” turned out he liked me too. god it was hard. patrick had a crush on me and so did bryan. i didn’t know what the hell to do. patrick was getting over patty his gf and i didn’t think he and i would even be remotely good together and bryan i barely knew.
but the point is, those days were fucking fun as hell. not knowing what i would be doing or where i was going. driving to toronto at a moments notice. calling bryan on the phone because i forgot something. laughing with patrick in the car on the way back. teasing both of them.
friday night, i got an icq message from my friend adam. adam and i go way back for a few years, when i started listening to his radio show on wyce. wyce is a public radio station and everyone there volunteers their time for the programming->disk jockying->whatever needs to be done. adam and sloth have a show every friday night from 12am-6am, which a better part of it was called the razor blade hour. i would stumble in at around 2am drunk as a skunk and sit up with adam for the better part of the night talking and giggling on air.
so adam icq’s me, and I haven’t heard from him in a long time. he tells me he’s doing another rendition of the razor blade hour and that it’s in memory of me. i have nothing else better to do on a friday night but get movies and order pizza, so i pop open real audio and listen for a bit to see if/when adam is on. adam starts yacking and i call the station. adam answers and he sounds happy to hear from me and i tell him i’m coming home for Christmas from December 24th – 30th. We make plans, I icq him my mom’s number and i get off the phone. when adam gets back on the air, he dedicates a song i picked (Everybody Knows by Leonard Cohen) to Miss Lisa, his number one groupie, in San Francisco.
And when I hear that, I realize how badly I miss home.
Things have changed since I’ve left, and I realize that. And I know I’ve changed a lot since then as well.
Within the last week, I received an email from my friend Dan in Texas. Now Dan rocks my world (Dan’s comments are either the single > or the non > spaces). See I did his website for him and helped him when things were getting tough between his ex-partner Chris. I told Danny that I would never charge him for what I did nor would I expect payment. But this past Friday, he sent me a check (which I feel is way too much) and he wouldn’t take it back. So Danny, I haven’t emailed you this yet, but, if you feel you need to make a donation to me cos I did your pages, please give it to a charity in my name. :)) Thanks!
So I read the letter and I almost start to cry.
Dan’s right in a way: I have a lot of things NOW that i didn’t have then. namely: brand new spankin’ 98 black Saturn, a job i’ve been with for almost a year, a place where my name is on the lease, and justin.
and maybe to some people, they would say “hey, that’s a lot! you’re doing pretty good” (especially if i can flash my IS title around), but to me, it’s settling. and it hurts.
there is a distance i have wondered
(reaching out, reaching in. holding out, holding in)
fuck, another sarah induced depression.
HELLALUHIA!
You know, for nearly a year, I have fretted, stressed and worried that everything that has gone wrong with my life resolved around the fact that it was because of  jeff.
And the startling realization I made was that it wasn’t about the fucker at all but about me!! I don’t miss what we had, I miss the person I was! I miss that sparky personality i used to have. where i didn’t care and where i lived life as fully as i knew how. it may not have been the best way or the right way, but it was my way.
i’m being slight unfair because i can’t blame him, but i can blame things have changed significantly in me since i’ve moved to California, and the person I was and the person i’ve become don’t mesh. and when someone takes your heart and smashes it to a trillion pieces and then tells you to get over it, you get fucking angry. and i learned, somewhere along the line, it wasn’t okay to get angry. holding in all this crap for nearly a year.
(but um, lisa, your constantly analyzing the situation)
sneeze
True. But read what I say and read that goddamn email. Can you NOT detect the difference between how I speak here and in that stupid fucking letter?
(insert about an hour later)
So i’ve spent some time reading my old letters i’ve written to people in the last few years. And i cried and I smiled and I laughed out loud when I read this:
“And food for thought, king bee, I would have never have emailed you unless you provoked it. If you want no comment from me, then you should have done, what I warned you to do oh so long ago, stay the fuck away. 🙂 Have a nice day!” (This little tidbit came from one of the most articulate emails i feel i’ve written in eons.)
“King Bee.” That just slays me. I started laughing so hard, I couldn’t sniffle from my damn cold.
And suddenly, I feel okay again. Sure, I was getting depressed reading all those old emails, and I miss the old Lisa, but I realized that with that much passion and fire, she was never really gone. She was just hibernating somewhere.
And my arguments with Justin early this evening seemed benign and trite. I went from a complete 180 degree course from wanting to break up with him to wanting to hold him tight and loving him forever.
And I think I will go do that.

nothing

I am not sure how to begin this, but I guess anything goes.
Yesterday was Michael’s birthday, and he turned the ripe old age of 22. He’s still on my mind quite a bit, considering that we have been broken up for over 2 weeks.
My dad is on the phone with me now, discussing his will with me. He is 69 years old, and is in ill health. He is telling me that no one can know who the executor of his will is because its locked up safe and sound. I am not even going to go there.
I am talking to one of my oldest friends on the net, nobody-. He and I used to write this really lengthy letters to each other, and then it stopped.
I miss Michael. The name “Michael” itself seems to be a recurring name in my life. nobody- s name is Michael and so is mierlyn’s. My publisher’s name is Michael, and so is my long lost cousin from Australia. Plus there is the handful of Michaels that i have dated in rl, and so on and so on.
So I think I am going to stay away from Michael’s for a while. Well, actually, stay away from men in general.
It’s pretty hard. My roommate and I have been messing around, but after throwing up on him the other day, that was pretty much over with. It’s funny though how i can take myself away from that so easily, just detach myself, and think of nothing while I am going through the motions of “making love.
I care not who I am with, I care not whose body I am stroking, I care not who I am being intimate with. It does not matter to me.