Five a.m., exactly five hours after bedtime, and after two tabs of Klonopin, I am wide awake. So Little Miss Donna Reed here decides now is a great time to put away the clean laundry and empty garbage cans and dust and shit. Chad is still growling at the alarm clock and I’m bustling about like a good little wifey. A good little geek wifey, anyway; I had time to check ICQ and say happy birthday to Tony, which was good. Always good to talk to him, I can’t say exactly why, but I can feel his presence more clearly than a lot of the people I talk to online, even ones I’ve known for years.

And I wanted to call him for his birthday, just to say hi and that, and so instead he called me on my PCS phone and I spent a terrific two minutes on the phone with him, during which neither of us said much but Chad grunted hello and I laughed a lot, just laughing because I was so happy to hear that Tony was really real. And that he likes me.


I was completely ridiculously goofy in my session with Dr. Doctor today, and it ended up in some sort of metashrinking session, which entertained me to no end, and seemed to entertain him, but I didn’t really get anything Done, which made me feel lame afterwards. I started driving home and then everything was just immense and confusing and I broke into tears. The little kind, the little non-nose-clogging kind, just tears and tears, making the undersides of my sunglasses slick and my neck slippery.

Wonder if anyone in the passing cars noticed, and if they did, what they thought happened to me. Did something awful happen to her? Or if they just thought I was singing along to a song or talking to myself.

Mostly I was crying about Tony, and how far away he lives, and how I seem to have found one of those people who will be important to my existence for a very long time, and, like most of those people who have been in my life, are currently in my life, is not only past driving-distance away but thousands of miles away. And I felt very small and stupid just then, because I wondered why I was bothering at all; I will let him down eventually, just like I do everyone.

So I thought about Moses. Yes, Moses and his sea-parting gig. What happened to the fish, to the reefs and creatures that live on the seafloor? Did they part too, or were they just inadvertently dried out and then when the seas closed up again they just washed ashore eventually, little shells and dried starfish and pieces of coral.

I want to go back and ask Moses to teach me how. Teach me how to part the seas, except teach me how to do it without hurting anyone, and teach me how to form walls of water on either side of me, so I can watch all the creatures, miles and miles high. And I’ll fucking walk to Finland, I’ll do it.

Somehow I’m in the Office Depot parking lot and throttling my PCS phone because it won’t let me make an international call and instead I’ve got the most condescending female-voiced message on the line that tells me I must wait for a customer service representative to answer my query, and I don’t have a bloody query woman I just want to call Finland. Is that bad? I don’t care how much it costs, and you’d better hurry up because it’s going on midnight there and I don’t want to wake people up or anything.

No help. I called Kite, left a voicemail message. I don’t know how I sounded but it was a forty-second message so it must have been interesting. Called Chad too, left voicemail. If anything had happened to me, I would have left a voicemail trail so the forensic team could track down the exact time I went missing.

Office Depot was a labyrinth. I must have walked through the aisles a hundred times. Nothing pleased me. I wanted fine point black Papermate Gel-Writers and they didn’t have any. Not even one. I was lost. Those are the ones I want, the only ones I want. But a sales associate (that PC enough?) searched and searched and was so nice and eventually sold me these Uni-ball Gel Impact things that make me feel like I’ve just bought a pair of aerobic sneakers. Gel Impact. What the hell. I feel like some impacted gel right about now. Let’s do it.

The sales associate was a pale, very pale woman about my age, with long straight black hair and black eyes and no makeup. I liked her immediately. I wanted to ask her to hang out with me. But I froze instead, and she wished me a nice day and I did follow her for just a little bit but then realized that put me in Stalking status and quit.

And then I went a little wild with the rest of it. Impulse shopping is why I stay away from credit cards. After taxes, both Chad and I are broke but that didn’t stop me from just going nuts all over the store. Bubble mailers, construction paper, metallic-inked pens, cassette tapes, headset thing for the computer, a glue pen, these cool photo-magnet things that you can paste your photos on and then cut out, and stick on metal surfaces. I’m entranced.


Home again and cleaning the kitchen while talking to Karawynn about her current difficulties with living and dealing with Shae. Unlike my normal, diplomatic operating mode, I was just laying it all out, as blunt as could be, and it felt pretty good to be so un-self-censored, but I was worried – even though I meant all I said – how Shae feels about me, since I haven’t heard from him directly in a long time.

How much I miss him in my life, in Birmingham. How easy it is for me to hide for weeks at a time if he’s not around to drop by or meet for dinner or show up at Boardgamers.


My dad and I managed to get NetMeeting in semi-operating mode this evening (thanks to earlier help from Ryan), and it was good to hear Dad’s voice, even if the two-second delay was a bit annoying at times. Chad got home and his presence always rejuvenates me somewhat, especially the way he hugs me and kisses my forehead as I stand on tiptoe. We ate pizza, ham and pineapple on the best crust ever, and vaguely watched TV and that’s about when I got tired, and fed up, and realized I had nothing at all to say for today’s entry.


Kite encouraged me to just write, and I’m just here right now, eyeing the Tony-watch hanging next to my monitor that says it’s 6:18 on a Saturday morning in Finland, the day after his birthday no less, and I’ll doubtfully catch up with him this weekend at all. I feel much better today than I did yesterday but I still feel small. Small and still significant; if I were small and insignificant then there really wouldn’t be a lot to worry about, would there? That would be that. But being small and significant Γ³ well, you’ve got to do something with that. Either get bigger or make your smallness known. And that’s what I’m staring at right now.


I’m just attracted to people who pay attention to me, who talk to me, who praise me when I do something right, and who listen to me, and ask me questions. I love it when people ask me questions. Because I’ve got a lot to say, I really do, but I just can’t pick a direction in which to throw it out there. Instead, it just sits there, and I’m dying for people to delve. I can’t delve for them; that’d be cheating. So I wait, and sometimes along comes a person who reaches beneath the seaweed and driftwood and finds the stuff that’s still alive, wriggling, waiting for someone to hold it as it squirms and then settles.


Part of me wants to be apologetic for, embarassed of this entry, and part of me is proud of writing this way for a change. Sometimes there are too many ends to tie up neatly, and I want to leave things open and malleable and prickled just once here and there. I’m thick with frustration like this, inarticulate, splintered, but it’s not a bad thing on days like today. There are so many transcribable events, but when it comes to emotions, I’m all … thumbs. Hah.

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