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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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Friday, Apr. 05, 2002 - 9:31 A.M.
Today I have a bookfair. Actually today and tomorrow. We're over in Dallas, actually RIchardson, having a bookfair for the North Texas ROmance Authors and teh Dallas Are ROmance authors. Give or take tehre will be 150 published and unpublished authors, talking writing and books and romance. It'll be great, no really. I have to keep telling myself this. But it is fun. THey all love me there. I'm just so loveable. No I am. But anyway. They got us a hotel room so we don't have to drive back after teh authors benefit tonight and the main bookfair tomorrow. Which means I'll bestuck with Ms Baker for the next 36 hours or more. She's really a very nice person. I shall perservere. At least I don't have to be in the store. That's the best thing.

Friends was on last night. It wasn't avery good episode. It was one of those look back type episodes. They're alright, but there's only a few more episodes left this season, and they wasted one with this. Alas. Beggars can't be choosers. Or at least thy shouldn't be. That's pretty much my update. teh rest is just mental babbling on my part, but I guess you can read it if you want.

I want to put an entry in here and have started one several times in the last day and a half, but the entries sounded stupid and repetitive and mundane and so I click that little x in the top right hand corner and stare at the computer frustrated at my inability to express what I am thinking and feeling.

In English yesterday, we discussed Hedda Gabler, the play and the character. Hedda Gabler, as you might recall was teh topic of my subject sentence from Tuesday. SHe as you might recall was described as a bitch by me and the truth of the matter is that I still believe she was a bitch, but after a careful dissection of the story I can understand just why she was a bitch. Its that damned ennui. She was fed up with the mundane world in which she, a woman from the middle class in the 1880's was allowed to do, how she had to live and comform to what was expected of her and how this life bored her to death. Ennui, compacency boredom with one's existence. And she lacked teh courage to live. TO live life vibrantly and lively, to experience everything and everyone with a passion because she was afraid of what people would think. In the end, she killed herself, perhaps as a way out, but perhaps as way of saying, look, see whatI can do. SOmething that people say they would do, but never do., She killed herself because she was a "large soul, living in a small soul "world"

Its strange how we see ourselves in the world and what we make of it because of how we see it.

I read some where Anais Nin wrote

We don't see the world how it is
We see the world how we are
and at first I thought to myself that this isn't true. I mean the world is the way it is. But our perception of it, each of us perceive it different. We see it as a challenge or as an adventure. We see it bleakly or filled with hope. We see it through eyes and hearts scarred emotionally, physically and psychologically, or we see it with a reverence for the possibility that each day may bring. We each of us take to the world ourselves and in so doing peer through colored glass stained with the images that are our lives. From the smallest thing to the most monumental, life is interpreted differently for each of us.

Life love hate fear cowardice envy jealousy anger pity, we each of us have our own personal connotations to each of these words and what tehy represent in us and in our lives.

Its amazing how very different eac hof us are and so very much alike we are too. I hold onto that. It helps me to understand and at least try to answer those questions that seem to nag at the back of my mind.

I can ask the question, what is love? what are its tenants and teh answers iwould get back would be voiced over in over in so many different ways with so many different words. Which would be wrong. Which would be right. Are they all right or all wrong. My ideas of love can't be forced upon anyone else. If I love you and you love me, are they same.

Once upon a time I used to pray to God that someone would love me. Love me and cherish me as much as I felt in my heart. Once upon a time it happened and I realized that I needed to be able to love them back. Just feeling it but not being able to say it or express it is so much worse than not being loved.

I've always cut myself off from relationships. I've written much about my walls. When I was growing up, they protected me agreat deal from a lot of hurt and heartache. I became very attached to them and have used them to keep people at a distance. I have used them to keep the chance of being hurt away. Course that in turn keeps the chance of being happy from coming to. I don't know if there is anyone who will bestrong enough to help me tear down the walls. I have been pecking away at the base this last year, pecking here, pecking there, and the occasional brick will crumble away. But its a task.

Right now I feel like I am at arms length with everybody I know. You know that point where a relative you haven't seen in years takes you in their arms and doesn't embrace you but holds you back and says "let me look at you." I don't feel like I am in any embrace. I feel like everyone is just looking at me. There isn't much warmth inthe look eiher. It feels very tentative. its a lonely feeling. And I think maybe its me. Maybe because I have been so tentative that its just comingback at me. I have tried recently, the last couple of weeks to reach out, I've tried to reach out as I have reached in, to say what's going on on the inside. I've never done that before. I've always tried to keep that part of me to me and since I have expressed it, it seems to me that everyone is taking a step back. Course this could be just neurotic crazy talk, but its there, in my gut. My gut has really been talking to me the last couple of weeks.

neurosis ~ catharsis