Lucid – A Most Unreliable Narrator

55 Minuts Til X-Files (2015 version)

Dear Internet,
In 1997 I was living with a dominatrix in a dump of a house in El Cerrito, California; a ‘burb of San Francisco. With barely any income, I survived by the generous help of others, my wits, and eating one meal a day.
Every Sunday night my roommates and I, plus circular friends, would get together for pizza and X-Files. This was our ritual, without fail, every Sunday for nearly a year. Even when I moved out with one of my roommates to a house in Oakland, we kept the ritual going. But after awhile, as all things seem to wont to do, X-Files and I parted ways. I was still somewhat of a rabid fan but the magic, and the lure of pizza, were almost gone. Pizza was now saved for video game binges and other special occasions.
I’m excited about the upcoming reboot but also a bit sad as I remember the supposed very last X-Files movie in 2008 where they made it pretty fucking clear that they have tied up all the loose ends, thus no more X-Files. The last shot was of Mulder and Scully in a raft, waving good-bye to the camera.
I was reminded by TheExHusband recently, when the news broke the X-Files were not only coming back but most of the original case (including The Lone Gunmen) would also in attendance, about a piece I wrote one evening before that week’s episode was on.
Here is that piece I wrote 18 years ago (!) about that one particular benign Sunday night, starring a rotating cast of characters in my life, before the night’s episode appeared. I’ve cleaned up the piece for grammar and spell checking but for the most part, it’s as it was when it was published all those years ago.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

55 Minuts Til X-Files
The pizza has been ordered.
The seats have been staked out.
Simpsons are on and I am killing time.
My stomach still is grumbling from all the coffee I have had today. Maybe it is still regurgitating from the Taco Hell from last night. I have no idea why in the hell I am going to eat pizza. I should eat I suppose, but, for some reason food hasn’t seemed appealing in the last few weeks. Everyone is telling me how good I look. My mens pajama bottoms keep falling down, showing off my cute little underwear from Victoria’s Secret.
I laugh.

****************************************

Every Sunday, at my house, is brunch day. My housemates and their friends all come over and my job, being miz coffee person, is to make coffee. I can cook, but I tell them I can’t. I just make coffee and swap stories with everyone.
Today I attempted to make bacon.
I burned it to a crisp.
I resolved just setting the table and making coffee.
Rob looks over at me and says “Lisa, I didn’t know you were so domestic.”
“Rob,” I say, “Tell anyone and you will die slowly.”
He laughed.
Brunch has become a tradition here. Every Sunday my two roommates and I prepare from having anywhere from 5-10 people show up. We all crowd around our tiny kitchen table and actually eat a home cooked meal. Eggs, bacon, steak, toast, fresh brewed coffee from yours truly. It sure beats all the frozen and fast food we eat on a daily basis.
A few hours later, we all grab movies and watch the afternoon away. Sleaze tests, teasing, arguments, and scalp massages are all part of the routine. Today, due to one of the guests having their kids with them, the movie selection was trimmed down. We all wanted to see Toy Story which I had on tape. Problem was, so were two other movies. Also on one of my tapes was a video declaration from Danny. Only problem was, I couldn’t remember which tape it was on. I called Danny and left a message. He called me back and told me what tape it was on. Grateful it wasn’t on the one we were planning to watch, I told him I would talk to him later and hung up. He called a few minutes later and said “When you have a few minutes, tape after The Lion King. I don’t want you to see what I said.” Slightly amused, I said okay and hung up.
We ended up watching Trainspotting instead.

****************************************

This is what has been most amusing to me. Danny and I dated on and off for nearly year and a half. We lived together. We were together when my grandfather died and when everything else came tumbling down around me. But for some reason, I can’t conjure up anything but memories of him, and even those, are blanking out. I can’t say I even loved him. I used to think so, but, I can see I never really did. And my “coldness” for him, so apparent, when, not so long ago, when I had resolved that I would never treat him like I had, is something I can’t help.
The person Danny is, is no way related to who I am. It never was. My assertiveness, my aggressiveness, my lust for life, never matched his. He would have been happy living in Grand Rapids for the rest of his life, while I wanted to see the world. If my plans of marrying him, would have been carried out, I would have either cheated on him OR committed suicide within a year. How stifling that was. How limiting. He said, “You’re so special. You have no idea how special you are.” I laughed. I knew how special I was. I did’t need anyone to validate it. I have no remorse for being cold to him, then and now. I used to, but guilt, for being who you are, trying to fix something that isn’t really there, is not me. I no longer think about it. He asked me once, a few weeks ago, how would I feel if he moved and didn’t tell me.
I didn’t answer. I simply didn’t care.

****************************************

35 minutes till X-Files

****************************************

Yesterday, my friend Michael took his wife Beth and I down to the Lick Observatory in San Jose and to the Rosicrucian Temple as well. For over 20 miles we traveled up Mt. Hamilton, talking about various and sundry things, while I looked out the back window and dreamed. How beautiful the area was. How so, un-plastic it seemed from everywhere else I have been in California. It looked so New Englandish, with the leaves changing colors and the air crisp and strong. I wandered around the observatory and wished it wasn’t so foggy.
But I could still see into forever.

****************************************

At the Rosicrucian Temple, I felt so at home. My love for the Templars gave me appreciation for this. Michael and I sat in a little area that had a fountain spilling water into a pool. We talked about various and sundry things. The changes in my life. My flying out to Pennsylvania to see Jeff. Michael’s marriage with Beth. My writing. Michael’s music. I opened up my backpack and took out my wallet. I dug out a penny and pitched it in, and made a wish. Not to be outdone, Michael pitched in a quarter. Not to be outdone, I dumped all my change out (about $5 dollars worth) and pitched it in with glee. I laughed out loud and spun around.
Michael and I walked around the Temple, wishing we could get into the Egyptian Museum, but sadly it was closed. As we stroked the papyrus (Direct from Egypt!) plant (“Looks phallic,” I said) we walked past the fountain again. I stopped short, and ripped off both rings given to me by two different lovers, Michael (a different Michael) and Danny. I tossed them into the water with nary a thought and kept on walking. I suddenly felt more free than ever before. I didn’t feel binded to anything. I didn’t feel as though I was making the past complete. I did not have to apologize to anyone. I didn’t have to make excuses for what I did. I could rid of it all.
I had told Jeff that, today, I was going to do the symbolic thing and burn EVERYTHING ever given to me by an ex-lover. Letters, clothing, stuffed animals, books, video tapes. Thinking of the hug bonfire this could produced, I have resolved just to do letters and stuffed animals. Now it grows late in the day.
X-files will be on in 17 minutes.
After that, I will be watching Leaving Las Vegas.
Hopefully tonight, under the moon, I will dance my ass off and burn it all baby. Just burn it all. What I wanted to do last New Year’s Eve…
Someone just knocked on the door.
Pizza Hut is here.
Time to go.
Till next time.

****************************************

xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2012, 2012, 2003, 2000

Howard Roarke Laughed. Again.

Laughing Fool. Netherlandish (possibly Jacob Cornelisz. van Oostsanen), circa 1500.
Via Wikipedia Commons.

Netherlandish (possibly Jacob Cornelisz. van Oostsanen), circa 1500. Via Wikipedia Commons. — Laughing Fool. Netherlandish (possibly Jacob Cornelisz. van Oostsanen), circa 1500.
Via Wikipedia Commons.

Dear Internet,
The one major hiccup while working on getting my archives back online is I read almost all of what I put up to check for errors, broken links, broken images and the like which makes the process longer. In the beginning of this project, I was also checking for grammar, but I decided to leave the earlier work alone in its pure form. (AKA, I’m lazy.)
Some years are terrible to read, like 2003, in which I was an emotional wreck of doom and other years are just nostalgic of, “Oh. I did/read/eat/fucked that?” Sometimes I’m not so bright, and others, I am goddamn fucking brilliant.
What always trips me up the most when working on this project is the relationships that died either in a fiery passion of destruction or the ones that could have been, but never kicked off for whatever reason. I get to relive each train wreck, line by line, in slow, agonizing detail.
A few weeks ago while doing some public clean up on various social sites, I came across messages for me from an ex, TheBassist, which were left on his blogs over the course of several years. One was from 2011 and the other from earlier this year. Finding his messages was happenstance and at first, I could not place who they were from, but then once I saw the message itself I knew exactly who it was. I checked his main blog and saw the 2011 post in which he had apparently stalked me on Facebook but didn’t attempt to contact me.
Not quite sure what I’m supposed to do with this information for:

He splintered my heart the first time that when he came sniffing around the second time, about six months after our first tussle, I showed him my partially fixed heart which he took a sledgehammer to. Again.
While the connection between us when we were together was insane, he routinely lied to me on just about everything
I could never trust him again, even in a platonic manner

So if he’s wondering if I read them, yes. Yes, I did.
As I skip through most of the naughts, some exes keep coming up over and over. Miguel, who in 2011 decided to Facebook me to find out where I was so we could get married. And if you all recall, I already am married. Happily. What transpired out of that conversation of nearly 20 years of missed connections and opportunities, was finding out he was ALREADY living with a woman who happened to be nearly half his age. So yes, he was attempting to marry his high school sweetheart (who is married to someone else) while still living with his sweetheart who just out of high school as this is how this man rolls.
A bullet dodged.
I’ve started dipping into some time periods when Patrick and I were together, which if I had not married TheHusband, and the stars were aligned and unicorn blood had not been spilt, he and I might have ended up Mr. and Mrs. Patrick related to me a few years ago the thought process of if he had gotten his emotional shit together, at the time my emotional shit was together, I would be Mrs. Patrick on this day. Instead, he’s now married in Texas and has a step-daughter whom he adores. No animosity between us, we were never one of those couples, but the best recourse for our sanity is to just remain distant friends instead of the half dreaming of what could have beens. Our over protection of the other, truthfully him more so than me, coupled with our long, long interwoven past makes it difficult not to be forever linked.
TheEx occupied most of my thoughts from 2006 – 08, and makes appearances in my brain every six months or so now, basically in the realm of, “Am I still angry enough to want to rip his nuts out and shove them down his throat? Y/N?”. Just as working through the time in 2003 when Miguel and I were plotting to save the world is painful to read, so is the content I’m recovering about TheEx is painful. What’s up right now is just glimpses of what I have, and that pain is as fresh as if you have poured salt on an open wound.
Recently I was hanging out in 1999, where TheHusband and Jeff (known as Lucid) are prominently figured. I mention that,

Of course as I started writing this, I had to google stalk him. Well, let’s not be surprised he has a Twitter account and I made frowny faces as I read back his timeline because – this is not someone I would have ever dated in a million years. But it should be noted his first wife had emailed me oh five or six years ago because apparently he spent most of his first marriage comparing her to me and wife #2 looks suspiciously like me circa when we were dating.

After the entry that quote came from had been published, I started thinking about what Jeff would have thought of if he did the same (and let us presume at some point he had Google stalked me) – would he have thought he dodged a bullet with me? Would have have thought I had grown and evolved, or was I just peddling the same shit, just a different decade?
Tough, but much needed, questions to ask as I often wonder the same of myself. I think most who know me, and know me well, would have argued that I have moved and expanded my worldview in the last 20 years. That was one of the first things TheHusband remarked on as we started dating again – I maintained all the good things about my youth and seemingly smoothed out all the trouble spots. As I was saying to someone recently, this public naval gazing of the soul is becoming antiquated. I espouse so much, and at the same time so little, I am not entirely sure how to answer my own question.
Here is what I do know: Being here in this space, either alone or with you, has filled me with great joy this last month. There was a long time when I never thought I would write even privately again, and to know that I can do this still gives me so much.
Today is December 2, which means I’ve written AND posted an entry every day for the entire month of November. Crazy. I seriously can’t believe I have pulled that off! Will I continue doing it? Yes. I’m in a groove now and it seems as unusual now to not write something and post it to the world.
Let’s talk stats!

November total posts: 31 (Two posts on November 27)
November total word count: 28,036
November longest entry: I have a vagina, watch me use a computer (1987)
November shortest entry: scary house with the wild front yard (175)
Site total posts: 611 (including this one)
Site total word count: 412,066 (not including this one)

Taking into consideration how much isn’t up yet, whole years missing, there is a very real chance I’ll hit a million words once the archive project is completed.
Astonishing.
x0x0,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2010, 1998

Happy Birthday To Me

Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.
Strangers in Paradise
I can either write a really happy “OH GOD IT’S LISA-MAS DAY” type of chronicle or I can be utterly depressing.
Let’s do both.
I haven’t been feeling too hot as of late. Other than the usual melee of crap running around in my head, there really isn’t nothing that is driving me nuts but maybe the onslaught of my birthday. Everything is coming up Lisa recently but, the problem is that I cannot stop obsessing about the fact that I am getting older. It’s a part of life and i have accepted it as such. as i told Chuck last night on AIM, I’ll always feel 17 in my head. He said he felt 22. It works out perfect.
Anyway, last night I got home and there was a package from my mother in the mail. I was surprised actually that she sent me something because lately I’ve been thinking that I wouldn’t receive even a phone call from her or my dad. So Cat, Justin and I were talking when I opened up the package. Inside I found the following items:

The deed to the house on Paris St that my mother bought for 70k in 1990. The house is being sold as part of her bankruptcy.
Original marriage license dated July 2, 1971 for Marietta K. Preiss and Edison K. Rabey
Immigration and naturalization papers for one Lisa M. Rabey dated February 14, 1973.
Photocopy for a “Complaint of Divorce” between one Marietta K. Rabey and Edison K. Rabey dated January 22, 1974.
Original copy of above.
Certificate of baptism for one Lisa M. Rabey dated July 7th, 1973.
Birth Certificate for one Edison K. Rabey, born May 22, 1927 in Gaspe Bay North, Quebec Canada to Thomas M. Rabey and Sarah McFee.
Certificate of my first communion dated May 4th, 1980.
Certificate of my confirmation dated April 13th, 1986.
One “child identification card” for Lisa M. Rabey, dated 4.12.86. I stood 5’10 and 160lbs.
Copy of baptismal certificate.
“Deans List” honor award, dated May 1, 1988 while i was in high school.Mixed along that list was a cartoon my mom sent me (any cartoon she finds that seemingly is high tech or applicable to me, she sends to me) and a letter. Her beautiful handwriting on pink paper.

i read the letter to cat and justin. parts that i couldn’t read, i handed to cat to decipher for us. i joked that in high school her handwriting made it damn hard to copy for “excused absences” when i was off skipping. her letter pretty much said the same thing her letters have been saying as of late. she’s broke. she needs money. an itinerary of her complaints. cat almost cried when i put the letter down. we couldn’t figure out as a collective why she would send me the above stuff and that letter. dated June 2, 1999. arrived June 11, 1999. she didn’t even acknowledge or wished me a happy birthday.
there are about three people in the world that i’m in contact with who know of me from when I was living in Michigan: Sherry, Shelly, Jenni and Danny. Since I communicate with Jenni, Danny and Shelly on-line now, they know (or rather verify) that my mother is nucking futs. or fucking nuts. I emailed Shelly last night right before I watched Swingers with cat and justin.

We’re gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for one party and then leaving ’cause it sucks, then we’re gonna look for this other party you heard about. But, Trent, all the parties and bars, they all suck. I spend half the night trying to talk to some girl who’s eyes are darting around to see if there’s someone more important she should be talking to. And it’s like I’m supposed to be happy ’cause she’s wearing a backpack? Half of them are nasty skanks who wouldn’t be shit if they weren’t surrounded by a bunch of drunken horny assholes. I’m not gonna be one of those assholes. I want to throw up. Some fuckin’ skank who is half the woman my girlfriend is is gonna front me? It makes me want to fuckin’ puke!

vinegette
yesterday was d-day at work. i had to have Y2K crap ready to go for FirstWorld and since all the idiots didn’t get it on time, I didn’t have it finished. And my own stuff wasn’t finished. I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off pulling systems apart. one of the jacks was dead and i couldn’t repatch it via the hub. two computers died on me. otto ripped apart four machines and dumped them in my cubicle to get finished. i said fuck it and left at 8pm. i’ll deal with the shit on Sunday.

Mike has been pushing me to write my book. i started getting all defensive about it and said something really nasty about his cartoons. i couldn’t believe i said it. after i said it, i opened mouth and inserted foot. i kept apologizing up and down to him and i still felt aghast at what i had said. and he said, “yeah i understand, it’s only my lifes work.” all i kept thinking about last night when i got home from work was how awful i felt for saying it. so in conversation last night, he asks me if i had purchased Strangers in Paradise yet. I said no. So I hurried off to amazon.com and bought it. i think it’s important to him that i ‘get’ why he loves cartoons (yeah he’s a kick ass artist. i got two Mikey comix for my birthday signed. i suddenly became cool in my office for his rendition of me looking at flowers).
I’ve never gotten into comix because, well, i dunno. just never thought about it before. in turn, he asked me to recommend a book to him for him to read. we went through a few possibilities and i hit the nail on the head with Heinlein. Since my turn on to Heinlein was by Jeff who thought I would dig it, I suggested Time Enough For Love as a good intro to his work. Mike agreed it seemed good, so as a surprise I ordered it for him. Hey, i’ve been feeling down the last few days and shop when i’m depressed. Thus explains the two new CDs, darth maul poster and other crap I’ve bought on-line. I didn’t think anything about it. So when I told him what I had done, he said he felt uncomfortable with it. I understood that and cancelled the order. Mike even mentioned it in his journal.
even though I understood it, i felt worse. I had insulted him twice. i wasn’t doing anything right, it felt like. it wasn’t me talking, it was the depression i was feeling.
mike kept turning the conversation around and we started talking about my book.
i sent him the two possible starter chapters i had worked on a year ago and he liked them.
now all i have to do is write it, he says. he wants me to send chapter by chapter as i go along. giving objective opinion.
jaffo said to be prepared to say “fuck you” to anyone who says anything to me about writing.
he’s on page 200 and something into his novel.
he’s my hero.

internet luv
From a TLC reader:

“you know, it’s weird you should write about ICQ random searches… Nov. of 97,
Crystal did a random search, found me… I lived in FL, she in MO, to make a
long story short (as I figured that’s the kind you’d like, if you like them at
all 🙂 ) I came up to MO to visit my grandfather the day after Christmas of
97, met Crystal on the 28th, we were engaged on Jan 1st 98, I moved here Jan.
12, 98, and we’re getting married two weeks from today…
BTW… happy birthday :)”

it’s 5:11pm and it’s my birthday. it seemed the more i sat here writing the more depressed i got. i went and did a few shots of liquid courage (ie: Skyy Vodka) and i feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I need to shake myself out of this.
Sonya just called and said that i had to bring girls over for the party tonight as only a few females are confirmed for showing up. All my female friends that I have invited couldn’t make it. I said “who cares” — let me make an ass out of myself tonight. It’s my fscking birthday!
I want to thank everyone for the flowers, books, cd’s, chocolates, cards and other goodies that I have gotten for my birthday. Every present was as unique as the person who sent them. You guys rock. I love you all.
x0x0x0x0x0x0x,
Lisa

the pill vs the springhill mining disaster

My birthday is in five days.
Gifts of luv, money, new life, geeky men can be sent here.
the pill vs the springhill mining disaster
every day my roommate and i have a fight.
i get up, rinse my mouth with plax, plop my contacts in. once my vision is crystal, the first thing i always notice is the case that she keeps her diaphragm in and her damn spermicide. it sits there, so innocent on top of the shelf above the sink. and every day i get this revolting feeling in my stomach. i try not to let it get to me — i mean it’s not like her diaphragm is staring me in the face, winking at me, reminding me that I’m alone. but it’s just the class of the whole idea. i mean, it’s tacky for godsakes. i mean it’s bad enough that no one will go and fix the cracked toilet seat. Cathleens idea was to use duct tape around it the crack. my my my, aren’t we high falutin.
so.
i move the diaphragm and jelly into her bedroom. and that next morning it was back in full force. laying there in its pretty pink case – defying me. taunting me.
it’s annoying the piss out of me.
what jails is like
“I’ll warn you, if cornered
I’ll scartch my way out of the pen
wired, an animal, the claustrophobia begins.”
it’s approximently 3:57am and insomnia is taking over.
again.
it’s a never ending battle it seems. today i was so proud of myself. all of the stuff i had planned on doing i got done (oh yeah, fighting with justin was on the list of priorities, don’t lemme forget that): i updated the site. i did laundry. i biored. i cleaned the house. put the clean laundry away. called the car pool people. it was going swell. so at 11:something, when i laid down to read before i went to sleep, and i check the clock an it’s 12:16, and then 1:26 and then it’s 2:27am. Justin is back to working days now at PBI, so he’s up at the crack of dawn. He decided, at 11pm, to watch Party Girl. I rented it for him, on the basis that there was nothing else at the vid store. And Danny always said i reminded him of Parker Posey. She’s got MOXY! I luv her.
An anonymous email I just sent out:

“It’s 4:16am and I’m still awake.
It’s freezing here.
And i’ve decided that I’m unbearably lonely.
Lisa”

you know, I’m tired of being strong.
Mike and i had this killer conversation yesterday (being Sunday — lets not fuck up my sleeping habits enough).
And I like him.
I like the fact that that I can be something of myself around him. I thought he was being pretty spacey sometimes — you know always good for a few laughs — he’s a funny guy. every time we are on the phone, I’m laughing so hard my stomach aches. but today was different.
and i think it was because when the fun and games were done, we got down to some serious talking. he always pesters me to ask him questions (i hate when people do that btw) about himself. and it’s hard, when i’ve lived in my head for so damn long. almost 27 years worth.
and we talked.
and it felt good — it didn’t feel contrived or that i was using one of my sparkingly personalities to do something. I’m grasping for the words to describe it — but I’m afraid I’ll sully it with some trite description. and this wasn’t really about you know, a rehash of our life — but it was more a telling of stories. about ourselves. and i felt utterly comfortable discussing things with him. it was strange — it was like something had changed. i just felt — me. and talking about my moxy vs insecurities. it was just normal.
i’ve been striving for normalcy for the last few years. a few days ago, i went to Jeff’s website and found that i was a tad green with jealousy. newly married, new loft in downtown Pittsburgh. i don’t know — i just felt sick that i didn’t have that. it’s like a part of me won’t allow that to happen. and i don’t know why. well, yesh i do know why. I know precisely why.
i can trace it all back to specific events in my life of why i am the way i am. i can explain it so clear. maybe you should work on it — i keep hearing that. but damnit. it’s like, mike is so totally the guy that i would love dating on a daily basis (well you know what i mean). not textual. just — you know beers somewhere. a movie. hiking somewhere. where i can give him a kiss on the cheek good night, shut the door and go sit on my bed for hours whispering to my teddy bear, telling him how great mike is.
real.
in your face.
i need that as bad as i need to be whipped sometimes. don’t get me wrong, i love my mind f00ks as much as the next sadist/masochist, but there is something about reality. smelling and breathing. and touching that is just so appealing. it just seems in the last five years i’ve meet guys i’ve liked on-line, we meet and it ends up somewhere has to move somewhere to date. and it’s not even that anymore. it’s like assumed we will automatically start living together. i wouldn’t give up that for anything — it’s experience, i want to be able to say i’ve done it, but the last time i was on an actual “date” was with danny back in 96.
and that makes me sad.
i get so disgusted with the pick of men in SF — hell — i know totally part of it is my attitude since i’ve gotten here — how i feel like it’s tainted and sullied with bad memories. that things shouldn’t be the way they are — that my dreams got dashed by things that i couldn’t control.
now, don’t get me wrong, geeking out is great. it’s fun. i love being online, but there is so much more to me than just what you see here, in this medium. it’s like the whole email disaster — people email me, but i don’t think they really want to know “me” — cos i might say or do something that will totally disrupt them and any illusion they have of me. and that annoys me. or they think I’m so fscking cool. cool about what? I’m just me damnit! That’s all I have ever wanted to be — was me.
Jaffo once told me I was the most complicated woman he ever met. he’s a net.legend, this must be true. he has this thing for grapefruit — Lisa get back on track!
yesh ma’am!
i just think that maybe, I’m growing up. things defiently don’t seem like they used to be when i was younger. things seem more clear — or — just more focused. and that feels like a lie, partly because well, I’m feeling vulnerable right now. and it seemed like a good thing to say.
it’s 5:31 am. Justin is up and told me i was beautiful. i keep staring at the picture to your left — and i can’t believe that’s me. that’s just one of me’s. so it’s been said.
I’ll leave you from a few words from my boy Greg Dulli:
When We Two Parted
baby, i see you’ve made yourself all sick again
didn’t i do a good job of pretending?
You’re saying that the victim doesn’t want it to end
Good. I get to dress up and play the assassin again.
It’s my favorite.
It’s got personality.
I should have seen this shit coming down the hall.
Every night I spent in that bed
with you facing the wall
If I could have only once heard you scream
To feel you were alive instead of watching you abandoning yourself
baby, you can open your eyes now
And please allow me to present you with a clue,br>
If i inflict the pain then baby only I can comfort you
Out of the night we come into the night we go
If it starts to hurt you then you have to say so.

finis
x0x0x0x0x0x,
moi

eyes like coins

my rant the other did help one thing: the serious writers block I have had as late. Those long term in the Lisa Chronicles should know the pattern by now: days of entries, big gap in time, one seriously angsty entry, and back to days of entries again.
In the last few days, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head. I was telling James (from England) about how I would, at times, spend hours staring at myself in the mirror. Maybe looking for the piece that is missing? maybe looking for the “spark” to light up my life. who knows. but, it’s something I’ve always tried /not/ to do (but did anyway) because it seemed to be fairly vain.
When I’m walking by a window/mirror or something that basically is going to reflect, I always want to look at my eyes and facial features. I want to see what the world sees. Justin often chides me on this as we are driving home because I will glance into the rear-view mirror and just /look/ at my eyes. I want to notice something that other people claim to see or want to see.
The one thing that struck me odd was that my eyes are actually /light/ brown. I remember a few years ago when Danny and I were at BlockBuster one night renting a movie. We had been joyfully arguing about whose eyes were darker. The BlockBuster we patronized at the time had square poles that were covered in mirrors. He grabs me by the hair and shoves my face (lightly!) near the mirror with his next to mine. Yep, he was right. My eyes were a lot lighter than I had /thought/ I had seen while his were nearly black as night.
all too often I don’t think we really /see/ who we are. One of the big conceptions I think (as someone pointed out to me last night) was that web-Lisa is different from irc-Lisa, which to be sure, is different from real-life-Lisa. Some times it’s hard to reconcile one from the other and where those boundaries lay.
I’m not really good with boundaries. I tend to think “mine mine mine” and keep it that way until I’m bored or have been kicked to the curb.
so the other day, was sitting on the sink applying mascara when i /really/ looked at myself. eyes, lips, cheekbones, the curve of my face into my neck. i spent more time staring into my eyes than anything, still looking for that piece of information that i feel keeps lacking in my life. going back to the color, i noticed my eyes were light brown with a wide ring of dark blue around the cornea. it was a strange combination, but that is what i saw. someone else, as i recall, had noticed it too when staring into my heavenly orbs. others have claimed to have seen green and yellow specks or that one eye was hazel and the other dark brown. me? well, i always said my eyes were dark as night and after 26 years of living with them, you would think that i would know what i was talking about.
well i was wrong.
i keep thinking of late what Andrew said about perceptual reality and global reality. we can all agree, for instance, that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night. what we can’t agree on is whether or not when it rises or when it sets because our perception of this even is going to be different. i like akining this to people and how people perceive different things and what we want from that perception itself. maybe, sometimes, we try to hard to think one thing and what we really have is another.
i dunno, it just seems that lately the more angst i give myself the more i bury myself into myself. sometimes change is good — and sometimes finding certain aspects of different relationships with people on either irc/real life or what have you, gives you a whole new view on things.
tonight for instance, i interviewed a guy here for a position that is going to be created. basically, this position would be my boss. at first, i knew who the person was (he was doing tech support for us) but i had never spent more than five minutes speaking to him in any sort of conversation. but once we started the interview, the roles changed. he was a fresh perspective and i found i could really and truly communicate with him. while we came from different ethnic and racial backgrounds, our own lives were very similar in a lot of aspects.
Joseph said it on irc one night that clicked a bell inside of me: I like the attention people give me. And i had laughed that off because I didn’t that was true, but it’s not the attention from others in any context that i crave, it’s the energy from those people i crave.
someone with charisma who can keep up their end of the conversation is more apt to have my attention then someone who doesn’t. i think this explains some of the aspects of why i flirt so much. some people you can spend hours and hours talking to, even in a platonic matter, while others are like fucking dead people. I think that is what bothers me the most about some of my “admirers” that were stalking me at one time or another: the spark wasn’t there to carry on the conversation longer than any sort of subject other than what was superficial at the moment. and it wasn’t that i needed something like that all the time, but think of me as a battery: i need to keep going and going and going.
i think this works well with the exhibitionist streak that i have or the fact that it seems i have no morals. I do, however the point i want to make is that i want people to /think/ for themselves and think completely independent of what they see/hear. This doesn’t fall into any sort of intelligence or common sense issue, it falls into the issue that some people have “spark” and others don’t.
Jeff once said to me that I zipped up my whole life into a F.U.C.K. file and gave it to the world. Pawl said that I never told him anything other than in email. I think that I say a lot of things, I just think that many of those I’m speaking to just don’t listen. Yeah, yeah, I know: they are not clairvoyant or even telepathic. I just think that for the lack of attention paid to that aspect (look what I do for godsakes), is one of the reasons why i had finally broken down and did LisaLandCam, because I have absolutely no problem baring my soul to the world and have you notice the consistencies (or inconsistencies) of who I am. This is me. This is not all of me, but it’s enough for now. Even in day to day activities, I still find that many of what I said/do is still under heavy watching because it may not make sense with what I have said/done in the past.
I’m really into “real” things. like things that can be touched/felt/seen/heard. I’m into staring into eyes and seeing what images i can come up with. I’m into baring the soul and not letting go. mystery is fine, that’s part of the mindfuck, keep it changing, but i need to make it real, in no matter what context. so that’s why, it’s a paradox: i say a lot in these herein journals but when it comes to those I’m talking to: i want to see results! i want to see actions! don’t tell me x,y,z just do it! I get easily frustrated with how people will, instead of take charge of the situation, lax on it. either you do or you don’t.
as for me, well, no one ever said i was perfect nor did anyone say that i easy to get along with. but i can tell you one thing: go sit in your bathroom, flip the lights on and stare into your own eyes for an hour or so. things will become a lot clearer when you do.
love,
x0x0x0x0x

Make yourself at home! Clean my kitchen.

intense copper red
the weekend is almost over, but unlike every other weekend this time it’s different. I wish I could give a better description (as justin is sitting here kneading my shoulders) but I can’t. I just feel completely and totally in love with the world at the moment.
interlude

Jeff S. or Jeff Z.?
Shit. I’m going to go with Jeff S. Justin and I were sitting here debating about it. I had no interest in looking at Jeff Z’s kitty cam, I just need a pic to compare the two to see who was who. Goddamnit! 😉
I’m really hoping that Jeff S. isn’t going to be too pissed for me swiping this picture. Strange, the last picture I have of Jeff S. shows him in this 80’s haircut from when he graduated from college (in 96). he’s cute, but not the hottie you see before you. If it is Jeff Z? Big deal. I would much prefer it to be Jeff S.
What is also strange is this dream I had last night. In fact I had several dreams. One of them was me getting with two girls (not at the same time mind you). must have been a wet dream 😉
the other dream was I was with this man and it wasn’t someone that i had ever been with before in any context. and he was my true love. either i’m wishful thinking or watching too many movies. but i felt so goddamn happy when I woke up. Jesus, someone smack me. I’m not perky polly!
Anyway, this picture looks remarkably like that guy. What if it is Jeff Z? Well like I said, it looks remarkably like that guy. If it is Jeff S.?
Well, unfortunately, I ruled out all men in the state of Pennsylvania, so either he would have to move or it isn’t him.
but it’s a nice thought.
murder
now for the depressive part of the list, my friend shelly called me the other night to tell me that Larry had been murdered. Larry is her sons Marcus father. Seems that Larry has been working these last few years at this club in G-Rap called 54th Street. I used to go there on occasion. He bounces the door and one night (that night) a few patrons were attempting to get inside the club when they knew the bar was closing. Larry kept attempting to keep them out. One of the guys pulled a gun on him and shot him in the face. The bullet went right up his nose and through his brain. He was pronounced dead at 5:30am in the morning.
I knew Larry as well, and I felt horribly guilty about his death. I know, I know, it was not my fault. But it always kills me when someone who is attempting to get their life together ends up dying violently. Shelly is faring pretty well. She and Marcus are going to be driving up to Michigan (from Virginia) for the funeral later on this week. I was tempted to go as well but I couldn’t take the time off and I would be there more for Shelly then for Larry’s family. Shelly said that was quite okay with her, as she had already was fine and was more concerned about Marcus then anything else.
cute boyz
There are two cute boys in my poly sci class. None in my cultural anth class, none in my physics class and 1 cute boy in my tragic drama’s in Greek history class. I’m set.
old friends
I popped my email today to find that I had gotten a letter from an old school friend of mine, Jenni Lusk. Jenni and I go -way- back (to 10th grade even). I haven’t spoken to her (or really anyone) since I moved to cali. I immediately emailed her back and gave her all my phone numbers. She called a bit later.
It was wonderful speaking to her. I hadn’t spoken to her in ages. We caught up on her and her son Dalton’s life as well as people we both knew. Seemed that everyone had the same thing going on and nothing had really changed. It was strange that I was just thinking of her and Julie a few days ago and wondering how they were. I didn’t get a chance to speak to either one of them when I went back home to G-Rap for Christmas. I had mostly figured that they had all moved away, which is obviously common in people in my age group.
We talked for about an hour or so, catching up on things.
Sometimes I really, really miss home.

beautiful dreamer

so you are all probably wondering if I died or not. Nope. However, the amusing thing is that I literally brought the new year in with a bang with leaving the anal sex story up on my site for nearly a month. 🙂 Well it was funny to an extent. It didn’t dawn on me (like it never does) that i would literally hang out with people after they have read my diaries. Meaning, when having dinner with Esther and friends over the past few days, didn’t dawn on me that her reading my entires would have her think of me any differently. truth is, i would be giggling up a storm if i sat with people that were having problems having anal sex. 🙂 But that is just me.
Hope that everyone had a kicking new years and Christmas. I made out like a bandit this year. Perfume and a sweater from Justin (along with a love note), new handbags from Cathleen. Flowers and money from Dad. Money from mom. Danny took the cake by getting me my belly button repierced, a gift certificate to Barnes and noble, a chocolate orange, and hot tubbing! We had the BEST time in GR. Gads, I want to move back so bad. But everyone thinks I’m on crack. My brother, mother, Sherry and Danny all said that I had to stop smoking the pipe. I would hate it, I was romanticizing it, glamorizing it. The whole nine yards.
Truth is, I probably was. But see, I feel loved in GR. I felt like things had taken a stance. The irony was, that i kept looking around for people I knew, except I didn’t see them anymore. And then I realized, I didn’t care. I had the important people in my life already, so finding some slobs wasn’t really worth it.
But I felt more “me” when i was in GR then when I’m in the bay area. Okay, true, the bay area ain’t got nothing (entertainment wise) on GR. nothing probably does, however, this area does suck unless you are making the fat cash.
plans plans plans.
gotta make the plans 🙂
olive juice
say it really slow.
trust me on this.
Lisa’s old skool sex shop
i’m bored.
today i sat down with danny on icq discussing things. nothing majorly earth shaking, but it was hard having a conversation with him, with Karen at his house and justin flopped on the couch. both were watching the same thing while danny and i talked about everything else. he said “maybe we should hook them up?” jokeningly. i laughed and agreed. justin has been trying to get rid of me for a couple of bucks and a pack of twizzlers, but, so far not even james could come up with the offer.
so we laid down on our bed (justin and i) and attempted to have a long talk. nothing came out of it. since i’ve been back, my sexual drive has dropped to a near zero. i don’t feel enlightened or excited by anything anymore. i’m haunted by the words that sherry said on her trip last year with her then bf bruce. they were having a great time in Florida when it seemed that all bruce wanted to do was have sex. sherry just wanted to go have fun.
but the thing that irked me, was the conversation that danny and i had on the way to the airport. he said something to the tune of “if you were even 1/10th responsive sexually like Karen is, you would NOT be a sexually frustrated woman.” I took that as a major insult and turned my head away. danny didn’t mean anything by it, i’m sure. justin echoed the same thing this evening during our talk. i asked him to spank me, to prove how responsive i am but that didn’t do anything. i felt flabbergasted. me? sexually cold? justin says i need to be more vulnerable around him. he also thinks that the belly button piercing was a bad idea because now i won’t let him touch my tummy. that’s fine. i’m paranoid as it is about having anyone touch my stomach. it’s not rock hard flat, so therefore in my eyes it’s disgusting. i want to be a supermodel. cept i’m too old now. sherry got miffed when i said she was a size 6. she’s actually a size 4.
so to add insult to injury, i now feel like this cold hearted being with no sex drive. lord knows i’ve probably had enough of the stuff to last anyone a lifetime, but i can’t stop thinking about passion or love and mainly with certain people in my life. so when to be told that i’m not sexually responsive or worse yet, that i’m cold and unfeeling, it throws things off the kilter and makes me feel even worse.
>maybe i should just become a lesbian or something.
or maybe just dump justin and live a sexual free life for awhile.
decisions decisions decisions.
basically i’m just mad.
here it is that two people who one hand rate me as being their top lover and then turn around and tell me i suck?
god, why is it always me? not them?
jeff would testify that i was most sexually responsive, but then he would also say i wasn’t vulnerable. so what the fuck?
ARE NOT I THIS PETITE LITTLE FLOWER?
I’m just angry at something. Maybe I should stop worrying and see a shrink and get my head straightened out. i will be the first to admit that i am having issues with sex right now, but i’m NOT COLD and UNRESPONSIVE.
fuck’em.

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.

definitions

i got several emails to what a quasi-fivesome meant, so basically here is the story:
several months ago, we had a party/bbq at our house. as the night wore on, i ended up kissing several women, several men. justin was there and he kissed a girl or two, and we were all drunk, so it was basically in all good fun.
the fivesome (me, justin, one other guy and two girls) proceed to cathleen’s room, from where we move into my bedroom. justin and i started fucking on the floor, the other three started fucking on the bed. one of the girls came to where we were at, and i started messing with her (while still fucking justin). after that, i climbed off of justin, hopped on the bed. i started making out with the other girl while be fingered by the other boy. and then justin got uncomfortable, so we left.
and that was it.
men in black
last night (10.28.98), justin and i get home from work. it’s roughly about our usual time. i pull up and park in the driveway, wade through the dogs, turn all the lights on. For the first time in ages, i go and pick up our newspaper from our front sidewalk. as i walk back up the steps, i keep hearing “lisa. lisa. lisa!” i stop and go ‘yeah?’ and then i hear “lisa rabey?” i kinda freak out, and walk back slowly into the house and lock the door. justin was in the bathroom, and i wait till he’s done doing what he’s doing, i tell him what is going on. he walks back the sun room and opens the front door to go outside.
the truck that the person was sitting in, was no longer there. as i look up the street, i see that he’s made a left onto an adjacent street. i continue looking and he just turns around and drives back down my street, albeit slowly. i jump up and down and point out to justin that it’s him. we watch the truck drive slowly down the street, and i start getting freaked out all over again.
I started thinking about it over and over in my head, wondering what had happened? Did I mistakenly think that someone said my name? no, my name is fairly unique, and you can’t really fuck up saying it. cathleen thought it may have be da’ chronicles, but honestly, there is nothing here that really tells me about where or what i am. sure you may think you know me, but, other than my pager number (big woop) and notating where i live (bay area California), there is no way you are going to figure out who i am. and considering i’m not as stupid to leave my home address on the web, i don’t know how this person could have found me.
there is no utilities in my name. the phone lines belong to my roommates. my car payment and everything else get sent to a different address. the car i drive is under someone else’s name (i got a co-signer). and there is no way, even with all the information available -here- on the web, that you could figure out what i really look like anyway. especially in the dark.
we are bringing the dogs in at night now. i feel much safer that way.
tomorrow, i’m calling the police. i had spoken to cathleen and christine about it as well, and we’ve decided to be ultra careful about this.
dead letter office
lately, i’ve been getting a rush of fan letters. as stated previously, i’ve gotten fan mail over the years, but now that my site is growing in readership, that will logically induce more mail.
in the beginning, i used to answer all the fan mail that i received coming in. i was always generously touched by what people thought of my website. i always took the criticism well (i thought) and just wanted to be personable enough to respond back to the people who took the time to email me in the first place.
but the trend i’m noticing, is that when i respond to a person’s email, they don’t always write me back. i’ve pounded my head sometimes thinking of what i’ve done that could have made them upset or not want to email me back, but i’ve come across several reasons why:

it’s pretty obvious that keeping an on-line journal means (at least to me) that i’m opening up myself much more to the world, and that while someone may know all about me, i will obviously not know all about them. this could be just disturbing (i would think).
they just don’t care. i don’t know, i could be pretty pompous and liken myself to a celeb, but in a sense it’s true. as long as they are watching from the sidelines, personal dope (meaning email) from me isn’t all that fantastic. it’s like if i got a letter from michael stipe or something, i would probably be in shock and not know how to answer it.

maybe those excuses sounded lame, and i definitely don’t want to come off being snotty. it’s just that, i really think it’s great people like what i do, so, i think considering the above with this probably being the second attempt that i’m being stalked, that i’m holding off answering ‘fan mail’. so if you don’t hear from me, please don’t assume i’m ignoring you. i’m not, i’m just paranoid :)but i do want to thank victoria and shelia. thanks to those two, my site has nearly tripled the hits in one day. i checked it this morning, and nearly spit out my iced mocha when i saw the numbers. i was like “what the hell?” and i checked the email account i log all my mail from this site to see a number of fan mail. ‘woah’. i’m famous, and i didn’t have to take off any of my clothes! :)Check out Victoria’s page. She’s got me listed and even quote’s my poetry 🙂 woah. i think my poetry is all crap anyway, but we will NOT get into a long discussion of my self-worth at the moment.
Basically, you guys just rock :))
never there
so, a few issues ago, i stated that i got into contact with my friend Jeff after a fight we had some time ago. Jeff has been a fan of my site, and since i know him pretty well (duct tape, ohh yeah!) that i’ve been attempting to keep in touch with him now that i’ve found him again. i’ve gotten in touch with him a few days ago, and he sends me mail about how the other white jeff is now engaged.
this threw me for a loop last night. i was all set to do da’ chronicles, but, i found i was more depressed than anything. i went to bed early, snuggling up with a book.
this afternoon, i got a letter from jeff responding to my previous email, and he wanted me to clarify something for him. i ended up writing this long diatribe about how i felt (about jeff’s engagement) and then i started getting really angry.
i’ve been trying to pinpoint why i’ve been angry, and it’s not the fact that the other white jeff and i broke up. that’s no big deal, i’ve been dumped before. but what i was upset about is how callous and how careless he was towards me, and how i basically put up with it for so damn long. if i had stopped thinking with my pussy, and started thinking with my head, i would have fared much better. but i didn’t and here i am, nearly a year after the breakup, ready to kill people again.
i apologized profusely to jeff about this. it’s not his fault, and i know he knew i wanted to know, regardless of how i felt. i like jeff, personally, and i don’t want to him to think that i’m only speaking to him because we have a common ‘friend’ (snort). that’s not true at all. jeff and i have had many conversations, long before i met his ‘friend’, and i didn’t need to spend my time bringing all this crap up again.
(but you are now lisa, hello!)
yeah, i am. but it’s just that, it bothers the hell out of me how he broke it off with me and how, later i found, he broke it off with other people in rather immature and lame moves (like over group email).
people just get on my left nerves, and dammit, it irks me.
my consolation is that, what comes around, goes around. i take faith in karma and believe that he will someday get his. either he will tire of this new fling (which has happened before) and or she will break his heart. basically, it’s he that has to deal with his fucked up bullshit, not me. and i won’t keep adding more pressure to my relationship with justin (which, is actually fine) about this crap. it’s not worth it. i won’t intentionally sabotage my relationship with him for some dumb prick who looks icky in shorts. heh. that alone is my personal salvation. i keep thinking about the other white jeff, leaning back in his chair, with his fat hairy belly hanging over his shorts. i chuckle and realize all is good with the world again.
Side note: I’ve just went and grabbed my aol mail. If one more nit wit sends me a piece of spam entitled “Virtual Boy/GirlFriend”, I will scream!!
ARGH!!!
I do IM sometimes. You can find me as either LinuxGurl or MISGawdess 😉

this one goes out to the one i love

First off, i wanted to say hi to jeff.
jeff and i found each other on #philosophy over two years ago. i thought he was a 40 year old so’n’so, and turns out he’s younger than me. 😉 he can be quite pissy at times, so thread gently as you enter. 😉
jeff and i talked about the other white jeff tonight, and in a sense questions that i wanted answers for were given. some of it was buried between the lines, and others were pretty much laid out plainly to see.
I couldn’t help flirting with Jeff, he brings that out in me.
i started thinking about all these wonderful things i was going to talk about right now. mainly about how i was happy for white jeff to have found someone, and then i realized, why kid myself? i mean, i keep obsessing over things that were never going to happen and things that should have happened and didn’t.
I obsess about a lot of things, and that i just one of my many quirks.
What I was actually surprised about was that Jeff read my webpage. He and I haven’t spoken in probably over a year, and mainly we stopped speaking over stupid shit. i always had a hunch that the tracks he was leaving behind on my logs were his, but, i didn’t want to start speculating again about being obsessive with fucking web logs.
jeff thought the entry i wrote on october 2nd was about him, and in a sense he’s right. because i have been thinking about him, and at one time i did have a crush on him. (HI Stebe!)
IRC is fucked like that.
I concluded the total irony of the whole situation, because after the whole debacle with the other white jeff, jeff and I are back where we were two years ago. it’s pretty obvious things some things never change.
I think i grew more angry at that, because i wanted to be able to say that all things have changed and i’m not the same person i was two years ago. but on the other hand, there are these dynamic things that we do that we can’t simply change.
no matter where you are, you are where you were in the first place.
there are a lot of things in my mind right now, but, it’s so damn late, and jeff and I as par usual stayed up for a few hours talking. i’ve smoked more than i care to remember, and my eyes are going heavy from being tired.
will report more from the bunker tomorrow.