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Jessica M.

"You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm." Colette
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Rerun. [15 Dec 2005|01:45pm]
Jeez. I hadn't been that hungover at work since summer. Gah. I hate being hungover. I just planned on stopping by for a beer and a chat with Logan last night after Kong but I think it's maybe impossible to have one beer with Logan. I almost slept on the couch but then realized I lived like five blocks away. Like seriously? What am I doing with my life? Here's what I do pretty much all the time: sit around with old dudes and smoke in apartments and eat bad food and watch movies and scrounge around the office and realize I don't have anyone to call and fidget in therapy. It's like living a different Belle & Sebastian song every day. And Belle & Sebastian songs are all kind of the same. I mean it's okay, I don't hate it. Which is probably the problem--I don't change, I don't grow, I don't improve or learn. I just get better at failure, which is, in fact, worse in the long run. But if I knew anything about the long run I'd probably be different. I can't hold my attention long enough to hold anything in focus or long enough to hold a grudge. Feelings, actions, situations, people--reruns. Even this livejournal entry is a rerun. You have read this before. "I'm a being ruled by sentiment." Remind me to continue wearing long sleeves. Remind me to go into work early tomorrow. Remind me to cut my nails. I have no responsibilities until January ninth (as though I've ever had any) so you're going to need to remind me of everything because I can feel myself forgetting--that unravelling, grab-a-pen-now-while-you've-still-got-it, escape velocity feeling. I feel like sushi. I feel like laughing. Which is probably the problem. I'm going back to bed.
+1

All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues [05 Dec 2005|05:23pm]
[ mood | frustrated ]

I have never really enjoyed my dad. But I used to not feel so angry towards him.

Ever since I started therapy he calls me every day, emails me more than once a week. He always says the same things and asks all the same questions and it just pushes me farther and farther away. I am in therapy because I do not want to talk to you or anyone else about this.

I have always hated how he deals with me. He's told me I was smarter than him since as long as I can remember and my decisions about what to do were always more important than his. You don't raise children that way, they'll hate you for your weakness. And now it's like I'm some stone faced statue woman who's got some secret horrible turmoil that will kill me if left unattended and he's some simpering genius doctor with every cure to every disease ever at his disposal and his life is dependant on mine and I just plain refuse to open up and tell him the name of my ailment. I have no idea what he wants from me but he's not getting it and I doubt I'd give it to him even if I understood.

I consider myself to be a sensitive and emotional person. I consider myself open and honest and I talk about myself easily. But being around my dad turns me into a rock. I hate talking to him, I hate how emotional he is, I hate how much he wants from me, I hate how he can't show me that he loves me any other way that saying it over and over and over and over doing nothing else. That's not how you get close to anyone. He's just like raw vulnerability completely untempered by ego or boundaries and it just grosses me out.

Though I see my dad as Good, I don't see him as Strong and I have envied every book and movie and show about fathers and daughters because the fathers are always masculine. My mom and I have always been more hardass than my dad, and it's not like we're not girls. I've been tougher than my dad since as long as I can remember.

If my dad were some dude or a friend of mine I would start ignoring his phone calls and emails until we didn't speak anymore. I don't know why I feel so cruelly to his sensitivity, but I think it has something to do with feeling cheated out of something. Sometimes I feel like I didn't speak to anyone of the opposite sex until the eigth grade.

+1

Disclaimer [05 Dec 2005|03:52am]


I've never liked Sundays because behind you is every dumb thing you did in the weekend and ahead is boredom and avoidance (I know it doesn't make sense to be bored when you've got so much to do but it's the feeling I've always associated with being in school).

This week has been either the acceptance of people telling me I'm not in touch with reality and responsibility, or the flattered disappointment of having to dispell compliments on how I've got it together or know what I want. I know I've never lived up to my potential in anything and it just gets more and more obvious with time. All over people are getting their shit together, making good decisions, and changing for the better. Growing up. But I don't feel like I've grown an inch since the tantrums and obsessions of preschool. It's always just been the same oscillation of thoughts and emotions, the same ways of dealing with people, the same behavior problems. I don't think I've ever changed. And what if I never do?

{I haven't showered in three days and my room is disgustingly messy (literally about fourteen inches of clothes and books covering the entire floor save where I roll my chair to and from the computer)--I haven't worn clean clothes in five days or done anything not in the dark for weeks because to do laundry (take dirty clothes to my mom for her to wash) or fix my overhead light (file a repair claim so housing would fix it) would mean I would have to clean my room. I have two dollars and nineteen cents in my checking account and exactly enough gross instant meals to last me to payday because I choose to only spend four hours a week at a job I should have been fired from months ago and because I spend all of my money on everything that's bad for every kind of my health. And I'm thinking I probably won't bother to move away this summer and who knows if I'll even bother to get another job to try to make a go of living alone (but I'm sure you knew that).} :Complaining about anything could be ended by my own action if I ever stopped complaining long enough to understand how to do anything but make problems to complain about and this understanding could be swiftly attained by doing absolutely ANYTHING but complain. And by complaining I am generalizing every sort of self-indulgent Let's Talk About Me, Now behavior.

You get trapped in a cycle of failure when you don't commit to seeing yourself as a failure and I recognize the tautology of that statement totally and that awareness makes it even more hypocritical. And I know enough about people to know that if I stopped being so self-indulgently in my own head in exactly this way--be it out loud, on the internet, or to myself--that a lot of it would take care of itself. All this accomplishes is either first, making people who already disliked these things about me dislike them more strongly and precisely, or second, handing a loaded gun to people who don't know me well enough yet to dislike the things I already knew I'd do well to hide about myself. So why do I keep shitting where I eat? Why don't I just stop avoiding, cutting corners, neglecting, and being lazy? Or at the very least, why don't I just stop being so open about my shortcomings?

At least I'm clever about it. At least I can keep you laughing with me when we're all face to face. At least I'm bright. At least I'm honest. Keep telling yourself that because everyone knows by now that honesty doesn't get anyone anywhere if you have nothing to be honest about and intelligence without application is worse than stupidity.

Set your iTunes to shuffle and repeat; there's no way off a perpetual motion machine.



Style Note:
The fact that this entry could have been summed up in one or two sentences is exactly my point. That's the beauty of it.
3 = x +1

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