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People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don't realize how hard it is to put up with all the idiots in the world. - Calvin


Catharsis:
1 : PURGATION
2 a : purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art b : a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension
3 : elimination of a complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression

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Tuesday, Dec. 04, 2001 - 10:27 A.M.
I lost a perfectly good entry that would have gotten you all up to date with the going ons that are my life, but then something happened and just like that it was gone. i think I was downloading the update for windows media player and you have to restart after you update and I forgot and now its gone. Human error. My mistake. don't shoot me.

But now I can add all the stuff that I did yesterday to the entry and try and post it and hope to the powers that be that you'll get to read it.

let's see where to start. This is the last week of the fall semester, not counting finals week. It was a terribly easy semester. But taking one class, one might think it should be easy. And one would be right. Especailly a creative writing class that you have taken three times previously. Hey! I don't have to explain myself to you. I love that class. It gets in touch with my creative muse who of late has been in hiding and really making herself scarce. Its really irritating when she does that.

Suffice to say I enjoyed the class again. And apparently it is helping cuz I won FIrst place in the Tarrant County College writing competition. that's a hundred extra dollars in my pocket plus they'll publish it in Under the ClockTower the college literary journal that is published annually. You remember paige, (she's the one who discontinued writing in bansporks a rather humourous little spot on the web. Well she won 4th place. Today we have to get our pictures taken for the Collegian teh college newspaper. Interviews and pictures....needless to say I can't wait. If anyone's sarcasm detector isn't going off the scale, then you might want to get that looked into.

For those of you who didn't get to read the final version of my poem, this is your lucky day. Sned money not gratitude! here it is:

On The Edge

The kettle whistled every morning
right before the rooster's crow
and fresh bottled milk perched itself upon the third step
of the front porch, cream rising to the top
and my mother wrestled with the bread dough
beating it down, kneading it not so gently

And quickly the sun would crack
the horizon where it had rested
somewhere beyond the fields
far beyond the growing green hay
where I nestled with the dogs
and avoided chores and adulthood

Father had answered the call
the posters in red white and blue
pointing at him, "wanting you" and beckoning
and the radio crackled every night
its news, my mother's only conversation consolation
she sat upright, her self perched

Edward R Murrow gave hour-by-hour reports
London under the Blitz and This is London...
and Trafalgar Square lit with search lights
and raid sirens accompanied him
but on Saturdays it was the Grand Ole Opry
and she would let me sit with her and she would
sing, her arms over my chest as I sat
on the floor in front of her chair, she perched forward
on the edge of her seat, leaning towards the radio

When the army came to visit Ms Rita
this man in green, medals gleaming
Miss Rita, next door, turned off her radio
and sent Johnny to fetch my mother
and after, Johnny and I played army in the field
Marching all day, then Johnny went marching home again

And from the dark hallway, the amber doorframe
cold against my cheek
I watched that night, my mother cry with coffee
And she gripped a pillow, kneading it not so gently
listening, rocking back and forth
her cheeks gleaming in the night glow of the radio

Anyway. I don't know why I love that poem so much. But now I like it even more since other people liked it too.

You know sometimes you have to wonder why people do the things they do. Yesterday Wade and I went to visit Jenni at her work. Well we get there and she rushes us out of there like we had the plague or something. And then on the way out she wouldn't go back in there with us. Okay I realize sometimes I might make a spectacle of myself, but there certainly is no harm in that. But to act like we weren't good enough to associate with her, that's just a bit silly. No introductions no this is the assistant over at .....nothing....sigh...... I guess she wants to keep her new friends away from our nefariousness. That's fine. (this is one of those things I got to add) You go out of your way to visit someone and this is the thanks you get) Oh I can't go back in there with you. You'll embarass me. Paraphrasing of course but you get the idea.

Now someone might look at that last paagraph as a juvenile diatribe, that that is the only reason some of us keep these online diaries. Such is not the truth at all. It is an added benefit though. see jenni's journal Its now defunct But in her last entry she refers to me well here you go lets copy and paste:

I cant write my true feelings for fear of straining friendships, upseting people who really dont give a damn anyway and who go on at length about what friendship is but yet are blind to their on indescretions.

Okay, you want truth and honest...here it is....

For some reason she is under the impression that I am under the impression that I am infallible. That I see myself as this stalwart friend. Apparently I don't give a damn and go on and on about friendship but am not a very good friend. The truth of the matter is and I know it and she knows it and everybody else knows it, is that she liked me more than in the friendship sort of way and the feelings weren't mutual, but instead of accepting it and moving on, she would take everything that I did as either validation for her feelings for me or that I was being a jerk (because the feelings weren't reciprocated) Then lets not go into all the different scenarios that must explain why I don't reciprocate those same feelings for her. She gets upset that I am being a jerk when more than likely she is frustrated with knocking her head against the proverbial wall. Don't talk to me about friendship and not giving a damn about the friendship when all along that is not your aim. There. there's your honesty.

I'd go on and dissect the rest of that last entry of hers but I have fears of carpal tunnel.

Diaries are forums of discussion with your inner self about everything that is your life. Guess what, it being my forum I can say and do anything that I want within reason. you don't want to strain friendships, then so be it, write a private online diary.

Well that was just delightful, wasn't it. And will probably strain things a bit too.

Like this part.

My friend Derek just got his new apartment on the first. In case you are wondering, he is just a friend, nothing more, not a love interest, not one of the scenarios as to why I am not enamoured with anyone else, just my friend derek. He is so broke now. I am pretty sure he is going to have to find another job. Waldens certainly isn't paying him enough. He tried to work at Abercrombie, but he didn't like it. But he looks like an ambercrombie type person. He really does. Its his birthday this weekend. I think I am going to get him something for his apartment. I don't know what yet. He is bound and determined to buy everything himself I think and get himself into more debt. But its not anything more different than what I did. its one of those things you have to go through for yourself I guess.

Anyway...I want to write more but I have to go do that interview thing now. Talk to you in a bit, afterwards. Maybe I'll think of other gruesome details and piss more people off.

neurosis ~ catharsis