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Feb. 3rd, 2004
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Feb. 3rd, 2004 07:45 ami know it's a forlorn hope - but anyone want to come to the dresden dolls show tonight at the iheg?
"context is never the same"
Feb. 3rd, 2004 02:59 pmi'm sure i should be working, but i can't quite summon the caring.
i know i'm losing my grasp on something, but i can't be quite sure what it was. where i would have loved to go to dresden dolls if it had been just me and someone else, the realization that a giant crowd of people i sort of know would be there made it unsafe and uncomfortable. and i realize that history would have my back, but he's got his gaggle, and that makes it different. and it's not that i dislike any of these people, i'm quite fond of some of them, i just don't want to risk feeling the same way haven used to make me feel, and well, the iron horse is damn near sacred space for me, i don't want to risk the vibe.
i bought tickets to the full band Nields show, and the upcoming EFO show. that should satisfy my craving.
junkyard was teaching me bits of html last night and i had no idea how much i missed learning. it felt like water.
maybe part of the crying is mourning autonomy. which sounds weird and desperate, but doesn't feel that way. it's just fact. i'm no longer planning things just for me. i've been shown what i could be, but i don't get enough of it to be able to find the next step. i'm still my own person, if he tires of me, i'll still exist. but he makes me stronger, and conversely, when he's gone, i feel weaker.
at least with what junkyard's showing me, i always have something to play with in my head. which at first was bad, because it was like the time i couldn't convince my brain to stop playing tetris behind my eyelids All The Time, but now gives me the ability to drift off in meetings, trying to remember the translator for the Klytaemnestra's speech translation i like, or the text to Ruskeyer's bit about Oedipus.
protagonist (named as such because she seems the main character of her own novel in a wonderful sort of way) posted a comment to me, and i wasn't quite sure how i felt about it. her life and her posts make me feel tawdry, she's living the sort of life i consider to be inaccessible, not because of money or circumstance, but because of self. and since i have that feeling, all of my own, when she comments something positive, it seems like pity. but since she doesn't know where i think she's coming from, obviously it's not. but it's odd to have someone my friends used to call "dream date skipper" end up being too cool to talk to, with her flapper haircut and her pursuit of her masters. we all age, i guess, and sometimes in different directions. i still love her, i still desperately hope she finds a path that include enough challenge for growth and enough peace for pleasure, i just feel inferior to her through no fault of her own.
i know i'm losing my grasp on something, but i can't be quite sure what it was. where i would have loved to go to dresden dolls if it had been just me and someone else, the realization that a giant crowd of people i sort of know would be there made it unsafe and uncomfortable. and i realize that history would have my back, but he's got his gaggle, and that makes it different. and it's not that i dislike any of these people, i'm quite fond of some of them, i just don't want to risk feeling the same way haven used to make me feel, and well, the iron horse is damn near sacred space for me, i don't want to risk the vibe.
i bought tickets to the full band Nields show, and the upcoming EFO show. that should satisfy my craving.
junkyard was teaching me bits of html last night and i had no idea how much i missed learning. it felt like water.
maybe part of the crying is mourning autonomy. which sounds weird and desperate, but doesn't feel that way. it's just fact. i'm no longer planning things just for me. i've been shown what i could be, but i don't get enough of it to be able to find the next step. i'm still my own person, if he tires of me, i'll still exist. but he makes me stronger, and conversely, when he's gone, i feel weaker.
at least with what junkyard's showing me, i always have something to play with in my head. which at first was bad, because it was like the time i couldn't convince my brain to stop playing tetris behind my eyelids All The Time, but now gives me the ability to drift off in meetings, trying to remember the translator for the Klytaemnestra's speech translation i like, or the text to Ruskeyer's bit about Oedipus.
protagonist (named as such because she seems the main character of her own novel in a wonderful sort of way) posted a comment to me, and i wasn't quite sure how i felt about it. her life and her posts make me feel tawdry, she's living the sort of life i consider to be inaccessible, not because of money or circumstance, but because of self. and since i have that feeling, all of my own, when she comments something positive, it seems like pity. but since she doesn't know where i think she's coming from, obviously it's not. but it's odd to have someone my friends used to call "dream date skipper" end up being too cool to talk to, with her flapper haircut and her pursuit of her masters. we all age, i guess, and sometimes in different directions. i still love her, i still desperately hope she finds a path that include enough challenge for growth and enough peace for pleasure, i just feel inferior to her through no fault of her own.
"context is never the same"
Feb. 3rd, 2004 02:59 pmi'm sure i should be working, but i can't quite summon the caring.
i know i'm losing my grasp on something, but i can't be quite sure what it was. where i would have loved to go to dresden dolls if it had been just me and someone else, the realization that a giant crowd of people i sort of know would be there made it unsafe and uncomfortable. and i realize that history would have my back, but he's got his gaggle, and that makes it different. and it's not that i dislike any of these people, i'm quite fond of some of them, i just don't want to risk feeling the same way haven used to make me feel, and well, the iron horse is damn near sacred space for me, i don't want to risk the vibe.
i bought tickets to the full band Nields show, and the upcoming EFO show. that should satisfy my craving.
junkyard was teaching me bits of html last night and i had no idea how much i missed learning. it felt like water.
maybe part of the crying is mourning autonomy. which sounds weird and desperate, but doesn't feel that way. it's just fact. i'm no longer planning things just for me. i've been shown what i could be, but i don't get enough of it to be able to find the next step. i'm still my own person, if he tires of me, i'll still exist. but he makes me stronger, and conversely, when he's gone, i feel weaker.
at least with what junkyard's showing me, i always have something to play with in my head. which at first was bad, because it was like the time i couldn't convince my brain to stop playing tetris behind my eyelids All The Time, but now gives me the ability to drift off in meetings, trying to remember the translator for the Klytaemnestra's speech translation i like, or the text to Ruskeyer's bit about Oedipus.
protagonist (named as such because she seems the main character of her own novel in a wonderful sort of way) posted a comment to me, and i wasn't quite sure how i felt about it. her life and her posts make me feel tawdry, she's living the sort of life i consider to be inaccessible, not because of money or circumstance, but because of self. and since i have that feeling, all of my own, when she comments something positive, it seems like pity. but since she doesn't know where i think she's coming from, obviously it's not. but it's odd to have someone my friends used to call "dream date skipper" end up being too cool to talk to, with her flapper haircut and her pursuit of her masters. we all age, i guess, and sometimes in different directions. i still love her, i still desperately hope she finds a path that include enough challenge for growth and enough peace for pleasure, i just feel inferior to her through no fault of her own.
i know i'm losing my grasp on something, but i can't be quite sure what it was. where i would have loved to go to dresden dolls if it had been just me and someone else, the realization that a giant crowd of people i sort of know would be there made it unsafe and uncomfortable. and i realize that history would have my back, but he's got his gaggle, and that makes it different. and it's not that i dislike any of these people, i'm quite fond of some of them, i just don't want to risk feeling the same way haven used to make me feel, and well, the iron horse is damn near sacred space for me, i don't want to risk the vibe.
i bought tickets to the full band Nields show, and the upcoming EFO show. that should satisfy my craving.
junkyard was teaching me bits of html last night and i had no idea how much i missed learning. it felt like water.
maybe part of the crying is mourning autonomy. which sounds weird and desperate, but doesn't feel that way. it's just fact. i'm no longer planning things just for me. i've been shown what i could be, but i don't get enough of it to be able to find the next step. i'm still my own person, if he tires of me, i'll still exist. but he makes me stronger, and conversely, when he's gone, i feel weaker.
at least with what junkyard's showing me, i always have something to play with in my head. which at first was bad, because it was like the time i couldn't convince my brain to stop playing tetris behind my eyelids All The Time, but now gives me the ability to drift off in meetings, trying to remember the translator for the Klytaemnestra's speech translation i like, or the text to Ruskeyer's bit about Oedipus.
protagonist (named as such because she seems the main character of her own novel in a wonderful sort of way) posted a comment to me, and i wasn't quite sure how i felt about it. her life and her posts make me feel tawdry, she's living the sort of life i consider to be inaccessible, not because of money or circumstance, but because of self. and since i have that feeling, all of my own, when she comments something positive, it seems like pity. but since she doesn't know where i think she's coming from, obviously it's not. but it's odd to have someone my friends used to call "dream date skipper" end up being too cool to talk to, with her flapper haircut and her pursuit of her masters. we all age, i guess, and sometimes in different directions. i still love her, i still desperately hope she finds a path that include enough challenge for growth and enough peace for pleasure, i just feel inferior to her through no fault of her own.