REPORT A PROBLEM
To be elsewhere
Most people, when they arrive back at their home airport say “God its good to be home”. Me, I experience an intense feeling of dread and say, “God it really sucks to be back here”
Everytime I go away and come back, I look at this place that is my home and feel somewhat disgusted. I want to escape its shackles even more.
Whenever in Europe I find myself appreciating European culture more, and become more put off by American culture.
Returning, I feel depressed and long for some other life.
Why can I not accept the life I have?
I spent the last week in Paris. Before, much to most people’s amazement, I was not impressed by Paris. It seemed very overrated to me. Too many Gaps and McDonalds. For people that supposedly hate Americans, I felt oddly catered to.
This time though, the city sunk its fashionable claws into me. I fell in love with it. Maybe it was Paris in autumn. Maybe it was that I could see Paris a little more for what it really is. Beyond the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.
Maybe it was the wine.
It must have been the wine.
Its been one of those nights. Not a good night. Not a bad night. But a night where I wish I could have been somewhere else at times.
Something I wrote on a bar napkin:
“I live in a place where fashion is dictated by sports jerseys and baseball hats. The identity of the city lies not with it’s architecture or the art that it houses but rather with its sports teams.”
I quote Mogwai
“and i drive alone sometimes
to see the roadsigns as they glow
old songs stay till the end
sad songs remind me of friends”
I love music, more than just about anything. Music provides me with a comfort that I can find in very few places, if anywhere.
So I decided that each set of words this week, or perhaps month, will include song lyrics. Maybe it will be because I can’e get it out of my head or because it means something to me at that time. Perhaps it will be because on that particular day I think I figured out what the lyricist was thinking when they wrote it. Maybe I’ll need filler. Either way…
“all my lies are always wishes” -wilco
For the past few years I have done what I suppose a lot of 20-somethings do. Try to figure out exactly who I am, my place in the world. I haven’t been very successful.
I try to find a certain level of peace within myself, realizing that I can’t really be happy without finding this peace. Tried it all…meditation, yoga, drugs, alcohol, travel.
Then I realize that you can’t find peace in your life when you aren’t very happy with your life in the first place.
“People meditate hey that’s just great trying to find the inner you” Rufus Wainwright
“hold on” he said as he walked away
(glancing back at me ever so slightly)
i stood there watching him fade into a small speck
(maybe he didn’t glance back)
at some point I realized that I would be holding on for a long time.
(that I should stop waiting)
maybe he didn’t mean to do it.
maybe it was something he never intended to happen.
maybe I was just too fucking stupid and naïve to realize that “hold on” meant nothing .
he would never be back.
“the only true freedom is freedom from the hearts desires” The The
Favorite TV show? Buffy the Vampire Slayer. An obsession affecting me the way the Simpson affects some of my friends. One of my closest friends calls me from across the country to discuss that weeks episode. People that don’t watch it really don’t understand. Its not real, not a reflection of real life, although I suppose a lot of it is symbolic of the things that happen in real life. It’s campy as hell. One of the smartest shows on TV…though all people see are vampires, demons and lesbian witches.
“Life’s a song
You don’t get to rehearse”
So how did I spend my Friday evening? Networking.
What a complete and utter load of bullshit. I mean I sat there and talk to people about things I really couldn’t care less about once I leave work (that’s probably a bad sign…). Schmoozing is crap. So I sit there and I play nice to the people that are deciding whether I deserve a PhD. I kiss the asses of people that will write me my recommendations. Tonight was about most things I despise and yet I had to do it.
“there is a light that never goes out”-the smiths
I am, quite honestly, aunt to the coolest little kid ever. Sure, everyone says that theirs neice/nephew is the best. But how many really mean it AND have the evidence to back it up? At three and a half years old, he was already extolling the virtues of Jimi Hendrix, knew what “chick music” was , and could pick out a Stevie Ray Vaughn song by the opening chords. Not to mention the fact that at three he also had a full drum kit, and personal bias aside, I swear the kids a natural drummer.
“Oh, foxy lady” Jimi Hendrix
SO how does tonight differ from last weekend, or any weekend for that matter? Really I can’t give you an honest answer. Both were spent in a semi-alcoholic haze listening to bar bands belt out cover songs. “Hooters” girls were in attendence. There were worse dancers than myself (if possible). I come to realize that I am that much closer to my own personal hell than I thought. Just add a few mullets, and I’m pretty much in hell long before I am scheduled to be there.
“ask me I won’t sat no how could I?” the smiths
Today was what I would call a good day. We went to Gobble’s old haunts : saw her old school, drank in her old pubs, and hiked the trails she was always to busy drinking to hike. The only drawback? Hiking with convicts. Well not with them, but they were there, doing work. Creepy. It freaked me out. And I really have no idea why. I mean I have this thing where I am overwhelmingly attracted to ex-cons. So why did the presence of now-cons freak me out? I don’t get this easily freaked out.
I don’t get it.
Today was a crappy day. I spent 45 minutes writing a single sentence. That just about sums up my day. On the plus side, Buffy’s on tonight and kim’s stalker ignored her at lunch. I saw a number of men that are on my “work list”. Although I didn’t see HIM, number one on the list. The one that after 2 years still makes my heart beat faster and ties my stomach in knots. Its probably for the best though, he just frustrates me with the way he is, all good looking and elusive and flirty (but not
Why do I feel like I am running out of things to write? That’s just ridiculous.
This 100 words thing, this process, it’s much more difficult than I thought it would be.
Maybe I am just feeling uninspired, brought on by the rain today and the gloom that has surrounded me since coming home. The post trip depression that just seems to get worse and worse with every adventure. Is it wanderlust or is it frustration with my life? I think that it is both but I have always had a hard time discerning between the two of them.
in the throes of passion she once said “I would die for you”
(but would she really?)
head on her breast he whispered, “will you take my place and die tonight?”
suddenly her own words came back to her
could she do it?
He said he loved her, yet he was willing to sacrifice her to save himself?
how could he ask her that?
(but she herself had offered it in the first place)
she loved him, and wore that love like a blindfold
detatched from herself she heard herself say “yes”
Feeling the need to vent.
I would NEVER not be a woman. But really, being a woman can suck in a major way. Today for example, there is this VH1 countdown about the top 100 love songs. What happens? Me getting all fucking teary eyed upon hearing a Journey song. All because of the big cosmic joke of menstruation.
Why in the world do woman have to bleed monthly for 40 years of our life? Not to mention the mood swings. And the cramps that make you feel like someone is wringing out your insides like a towel.
E crosses my mind today. My first love. Its true you never forget it. Such a dysfunctional relationship sometimes. I had some of my best fights with him. We had a lot of fun together too. He could always make me laugh. He knew me well enough to buy me shoes on our first anniversary.
A few months ago he called me…hes going through a divorce and is really down, more than likely I would be the ear and shoulder that he needed. ALL me friends said “here’s your chance”. I’ll never forget him, but I can never go back.
The first snow of the season came this weekend. Driving home on Friday, flakes landing on the windshield, I wanted to be a little kid again. Back then, snow meant snowmen, snow angels, snowball fights, hot cocoa and best of all snow days. Waking up on a snowy morning and listening intently to the radio to hear the word that our school was closed. then bundling up and heading out into the cold. Now snow means shoveling, treacherous driving, possibly being stuck sleeping at work. But it also means snowboarding and that’s something good. Maybe its not so bad afterall.
My building has very thin walls. There’s a man that lives upstairs from me. I wonder about him. I think he works a desk job. He’s 45 and lives alone. I never hear his phone ring. As I get ready to go out on a Saturday nights, I always hear his television. Every night of every week I hear it. Its like he never does anything but watch it. Sometimes I see him in the stairwell. I say hello. He just nods. Its like he has no connection to anyone. I want to reach out, but don’t. I feel sad.
Usually my “winter funk” comes in February. But it seems this winter the funk has begun even before winter has officially begun. Maybe it’s the fact that after a summer with a record number of sunny days, I have only seen the sun twice in the past week.
This summer, my entire 2 week vacation was spent in sunshine, on the beach and in cities, and I came back more relaxed than I can ever remember being. And luckily this feeling stretched most of the summer. Now with so little sun, I feel tense and sad and stressed.
Bored. Bored. Bored.
I’ve been busy recently too, so its not that “nothing to do” bored. More of a general boredom. The monotony of everyday life is getting to me. Same depressing news. Same drive to work. Same overcast sky. Same bars every weekend. Cliché of the day : “Same old shit different day” I feel the need to do something. Though not quite sure what. The last couple of times I fell like this, I wound up with a tattoo and a piercing.
Maybe I’ll get another tattoo.
(Only problem…I just can’t think of what or where.)
weird day already. My friends mother just passed away. So what do we do? Go out. Drink. Strange.
Shots, beer. great people. Without the sadness it would have been a good night. But the sadness was there, permeating, lying underneath.
One of my friend’s thought it strange, going to a bar. This happens. Its natural. When my grandmother died two years ago, we drank in at my brothers. Coping mechanism?
Death has a way of grounding people, even if momentarily. Everyone’s the same, social classes don’t exist. Everyone hurts and everyone must learn how to deal with the pain.
Before I tell you any more about my neighbors, I’ll tell you a little bit about where I live. As you may have gathered from previous entries, I live in a boring miserable decaying city in the Northeastern US. Where once the city was booming, it is now shrinking at a disturbing rate. It has great potential to thrive, but the corrupt city government has managed to destroy it. I live in a huge old house that has been converted into 5 apartments (mine: one bedroom, tiny bath) Which means I have 4 neighbors. And an eclectic bunch at that.
A day of questions.
How can it be almost the end of November?
Where the hell has the time gone?
Why am I still living here?
Will my talk on Monday be successful?
When will I finish my PhD?
Do I even want my PhD?
Will I ever come close to getting what I want?
Do I even know what I want?
Why is my hair so crazy today?
Why do so few people appreciate my taste in footwear?
Is each snowflake really unlike every other?
Is there a God?
What is my destiny?
What should I have for dinner?
Let me tell you what I am sick of.
I’m sick of crappy service at retail stores and at restaurants.
I’m sick of working seven days and getting paid for five.
I’m sick of not seeing the sun.
I’m sick of cold weather.
I’m sicking of living some place where I can’t go to the beach all year long.
I’m sick of being broke.
I’m sick of not being able to buy any pair of shoes that strikes my fancy.
I’m sick of pop music.
I’m sick of going with the flow.
As a vegatarian, I’m sick of “tofurkey” comments.
Wine. Vino. Vin
Drink of the gods.
Shedder of inhibitions.
(And a cheap bottle : instigator of hangovers)
Nothing better than a good bottle of Bordeaux, or albarino, or cote de rhone, or chardonnay... Basically nothing better than a good bottle of wine. And I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the homemade variety. A galss of wine can be the fitting ending to a great dinner or a horrible day. Perfect for all occasions.
They say a glass a day is good for the heart. I say a glass (or three) is good for the soul.
Why is it that some people insist upon telling you about their life, and others won’t tell you a damn thing about themselves? The ones that let it all out, without a doubt, you don’t want to know. The ones that won’t let you in, always the ones you want to know better.
Where do I fall? No clue. Sometimes I feel that I let people know too much about me. Other times, I feel as if no one will ever really know me. Different people see different sides of me. Rarely do I let all of me be seen.
Our world is falling apart.
A year and a half ago, we lived in a world where terrorism never happened here, but other countries lived with as part of everyday life. We were woken up in the worst possible way.
And now, in the interest of national security, our civil liberites are being thrown out the window. the very things were are going to fight to protect in this “war” and that our country is founded upon; tolerance, religious freedom, personal freedoms, right to privacy, are slowly slipping away. and we let it happen. does this make sense to anyone?
I slept till 2 today, and still woke up with a hangover. A whiskey and beer hangover… at 28 I should know better than that.
Then was confronted with non-stop tofurkey comments.
I had the time-honored tradition of eating cheese tortellini and mashed potatoes for thanksgiving dinner. The tortellini was courtesy of my niece Boo. At three she’s not the biggest fan of meat.
This holiday is a vegetarian’s worst nightmare. Not only is meat the main course, but hunting season also started this week. SO soon, in homes across the country, Bambi will be served as dinner.
The other night, it crossed my mind that what I really wanted to do was take off. Not only leave the concert I was at, or the bar afterward, but leave here. Just pack a bag, buy a plane ticket and go. I seriously contemplated buying a $350 ticket to London I saw that day. All I want to do is leave all this crap. For once I want to live life like I want to live it, not how others want me to.
This place is not only boring me, its controlling me, its suffocating me. I can’t breathe.
I dreamt last night that I was in the Algarve, the south of Portugal. (I was there this summer and it quickly became my favorite place on earth thus far.) Usually when I dream people and places don’t look like they do in real life. But here everything was just as my mind remembers it. The same people were there, and we were all surprised to see each other there again. It was sunny and warm with beautiful stretches of sand and clear blue ocean waters. Everything felt right with the world. Too bad it was only a dream.
The Tip Jar