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resentment

Hey Guys,

I have not posted an entry in a whipping 16 weeks! That's a long time and so many wonderful things have happened to me, and so many challenges have come my way as well. It's an amazing feeling waking up everyday in a place that I have always wanted to be and that I love so much. New York(despite its changes), brings me so much inspiration. I see so much around me that I want to explore and experience. Sometimes it feels like I just don't have enough time to do it all. It' makes me feel a lot younger and inexperienced than I am--but that's a good thing.

I wanted to write today about resentment and its evolution in my life and how it fits in. I view relationships as organic entities. It starts small and grows and blossoms in all of those romanticist ways that love happens. But what happens when you say "yes" one too many times? What about when you say "yes", when you really feel differently? It was this very scenario that gave birth to the resentment in my relationship. I said "yes", when I didn't mean it and now the relationship is blanketed in resentment and I am hating this experience. I would love to say that all is well, but the honest truth--for me--is that it's not okay, and in fact I can taste the resentment and the anger that is its spawn. It's the kind of disdain and dissatisfaction that clouds ones vision and makes it seem that leaving the situation altogether is the only way to reach a satisfying conclusion for all parties involved. In my heart, I want resolution to cure this--to purge the both of us from this poisonous, innocuous place of discord, and what breaks my heart the most is that I don't know if I have the tools to reach a better place.

Sometimes I wonder if being an only child in a single parent home will always make it a challenge for me to have a long-lasting happy relationship--but then I remember how many fucked up straight people there are in dysfunctional sexless marriages and how they bring children into the world and contribute to overpopulation and the food shortage. When I remember that, I know that my childhood can only be used as a crutch for my own unwillingness to push myself just a little bit higher on the Jacobs Ladder of self-improvement.

That's all I can get into for now.

Writer's Block: Who Pays the Deducitble?

You crash your friend's car because you're driving too fast in bad weather. Everyone's okay, but the car has to go into the shop. Do you pay the deductible?


HA! What a funny question. First, considering that it's snowing like crazy here in NY, I would feel ashamed. I have not driven ONCE since I've been here, and I don't plan on doing it anytime soon either. The streets are too complicated for me, unless you stay on a main street like Broadway and drive from downtown to Washington Heights--which again, I won't be doing anytime soon. I guess I'm a little scared to drive here. I don't know why. I guess I just don't want to mess up-or crash a friends car! Moreover, I don't even have a NY drivers license. Whenever I consider going to the DMV, I imagine it being like Ellis Island during the immigration era of NY with tenements. I imagine mean people speaking a different language will strip me and delouse me and separate me from my people and give me a different last name because my original last name sounds too ethnic. Can you imagine--a name change(hehe). But don't you get arrested or something really bad for driving without being insured?

So, what if? Short answer--I would pay.

Oct. 4th, 2007

After reading Proust's Sodom and Gomorrah, I have lingered on the taste of my own memories. I savor them and I meditate on them and....and I also want a dog. I don't know what it, but I have been looking at dogs that are up for adoption everyday online. I don't really know if now is the best time, but....dear god I feel like......like.....like I just want to take care of SOMETHING. It is bizzare I admit, but I find myself attracted to the most miserable meek dogs with the saddest stories. There was the most cutest Chihuahua I spotted online and it was tossed from a moving vehicle on a highway! How could any human being do something like that? I mean, I could argue that we do even worse things to cows and chickens and we eat them with our friends and we smile about it--but a puppy dog is something different. I look at a dog as if it where a child. You do not throw a child out of the window of a moving vehicle while driving on the highway.

Very tired now. Going to sleep.

Sep. 21st, 2007

Last night was amazing....the mornings are even better. It's nice knowing that someone is there and that my independence is not being compromised. Yay for growing up!
My current beau has me questioning my confidence. I find myself asking questions like, "do you still like me", or "do you still think I'm sexy?" I wonder what it's all about. I mean, he has done nothing to convey any message besides his appreciation for me. I really enjoy the time that we spend together and I find moments of being comfortable and drama-free more nerve racking than moments of sheer and absolute chaos. I should just enjoy this.

Writer's Block: Random Acts of Kindness

What is one of the nicest things you've ever done for another person?

God, I'm glad we have this feature now. It's been some time since I've posted. I think it would have to be changing a babies diaper. I actually enjoyed it. It made me feel like I was doing something that was completly outside of myself and amazing. Although I am not a very affectionate person(hugging, kissing, etc.) I do like babysitting and hope to have kids of my own someday.

I went to Sawgatuk for the weekend. A much needed vacation. I tried to read "The Power of One" at the beach while two men engaged in multilple sex acts. The water was nice, but slightly green, the drinks where good the bar had an insane cover charge. Very, very cruisy, lots opf men, and overall a good time.

Today I have been running errands, doing work online and getting laundry done(four loads in fact). I realized I have a lot of black clothing, and a lot of stuff that I hardly wear. thanks American Apparel.

I'm not planning another trip for myself next month.

xoxo,
M

Sunday sundries

I'm taking a break from studying. I don't want to do it anymore, so I stopped.

At about 9:50pm, my nose dripped it first drop of mucus. It was the left nostril. I felt it coming all day, and now, in this warm and musty computer lab in the basement of Pray Harrold, I can feel it boiling over and rising to the surface. Really, I earned this cold. I worked very hard for it and I felt it coming and nipping at me and I stayed up late and I slept very little and I smoked another pack of Camels and drank too much vodka.

I'm very much over school right about now. I would rather be in bed, with Proust and Foucault. They are my newest loves at the moment...and Klaxons. I also like bold colored skinny jeans, which, I imagine, can only be taken seriously if worn with a black shirt of some kind. I mean, can I really wear red skinny jeans and a yellow something on top? No, I would look like a McDonald's advertisement. So this is the choice that I will make for myself: any color skinny jean must be paired with a black and/or neutral top.

Chardonaaaaay!

I'm back from Baltimore. Everything went fine. It's when I leave and come back to Ann Arbor, that I realize how much this town disgusts me. There is a story about my last visit to Aut Bar, that I really don't have the time for, but I will reserve it for another time.

The flight back was an omen. I had my best "don't talk to me because I'm prettier than you and or I might shank a bitch" face on. My hopes for isolation and peace where shattered when I sat down in my assigned seat--the middle seat in a row of three. I smelled something putred...like a sour mouth...and there she was. That type of woman who views flying as a way to get wasted. "Hey! Got any chardonnaaaaaaay", she growled. I could tell that she was the source of the sour aroma I had noticed before I even sat down next to her. She was from Baltimore she told me, and that she felt "safe" in her town. She told me that she had never beed to good ol' Deroit and that she wanted to know where she should go for fun. At first, when she mentioned her desire to stay away from "bad neighborhoods", in Baltimore, I was a little aprehensive about continuing the conversation. It was most certainly an exercize of my patience. She continued to blab, and laugh at her own jokes. I hated her drunk smell, especially because I spent most of Easter Sunday with a full glass in my hand. It continued and she kept refrencing "bad neighborhoods". Finally, I was pissed. The assumtion was that I was from Detroit because everyone knows that if you are from Michigan and you're black, you MUST be from Detroit. When I told her that I was from Ann Arbor, she wasn't satisfied. It turned into an argument of intimidation. "What do you mean when you say bad neighborhood", I asked her. "Well you know. There are just places I won't even step foot in back home", she tried to play dumb "and I neeeevvvar been to Detroit, honey, it's my feeerst time!" She was the type of woman that would tweek her tone and inflection at a whim, but surley pronounce "penny" with an "i" in place of the "e". Her desire to maintain her view of the world, (which must be logical, because she shares the same morals as all of altruist society)outweiged reason and logic. Finally I was pissed. Keep in mind that the S.O.B. in the window seat, a white male, was left alone the entire time. She asked again where "bad neighbrhoods" where. My first instict was to really fuck this ignorant bitch over. I thought about telling her the BEST place to be in Detroit was Highland Park, and that as soon as she landed, she should have a taxi take her to the center of it. Instead I voiced my opinion, as I have every right to do, "I think that you love bad neighborhoods. You're obsessed with them and you can't wait to find one. Why else would you keep talking about it?" I watched as her puffy late thirties face began to deflate. The look in her eyes told me that she had been cought. If she had continued to ask me again, I would have been at liberty to call her an outright racist.

The fact that she assumed, based on my physical apperance, that I was connected to a "bad neighborhood" is not only racist, but ingnorant. Her argumant was one of intimidation. She assumed that I would know what her definition of "bad" was, and that based on her subjective understanding of the word, I would comply and keep her away from the "bad" places that I am presumably so accustomed to. What is "bad", and by whose standards? Moreover, is it the right of anyone to change the way that a group of people live, or to devalue them in any way? Her choice in not responding to my observation of her actions, shows that in the face of a challenge, she had no argument. Her noise and aggresiveness served as a means to hide her intellectual stagnation. Racist arguments and arguments of intimidation are nothing more than confessions of ignorance.

I imagined her feeling empty, old, drinking cheap wine and wondering what happened to the party. Party's over, bitch.

argh!

So much homework. Should NOT have gone out this weekend. Should have stayed in and I would have avoided hangover, last nights clothes/makeup and a huge assignment due like, NOW!!!

ARGH!!!
The best ideas come from sleep deprevation, and sometimes from a lack of sexual activity.


I will do my homework now.