introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K

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a response

strange days - 18 november 2003

"you were the last high."~the dandy warhols

you sent me this little note a week ago and i've only just found the moment to respond. i feel like there are a million stories to tell and at the same time, that there isn't one single thing that is any different than any other story i've already told. this is shiftlessness.

i'm thinking of ditching my wicca 101 class in new brighton. i have done a bit of soul searching and some of the reasons were not so un-obvious. i can't get warmed up to the group at all but that isn't because i haven't tried. they are extremely non-inclusive and cold to me, whispering and giggling and i feel like i'm on the outside of the circle. that wasn't what i was looking for when i sent out shoots looking for a nice place to set some roots down in the pagan community. i was looking for a teacher who would teach me how to relearn religion...one to teach me the hands on that i haven't gotten from my stacks of books. a teacher who would help me ease into this...to make it more of a reality than it feels right now. its not that the faith isn't there, mind you...its just that i can't help doubting that i'm doing things right. its a lot of learning to suspend judgement with myself and to just learn to feel my way through it. and it would be nice to have some guidance. i don't feel like i'm getting what i want here and i think its best for me to move on. its silly to say, but i think i crave a more urban group than that which i attend....they seem sort of backwoods and concerned about different issues. and i'm not criticizing that, either. its just not where i am or where i want to be.

so its back to the books for me.

there is this prospect of moving to new york. upstate. in the spring. toby has to fill out the school application. culinary school. so he's got this dream that we're gonna make come true. and i think that makes him feel like i've got to have a dream to fufill, too. and the trouble here is: i don't. i don't want to go back to school (except in september...and then, i think it only has something to do with the smells and buying books and the buying of pens and pencils and all of those blank notebooks that hold so much promise until you actually write in them for the first time...and the general excitement of promising yourself that you'll actually go to every single class and that you'll do every reading...and that always passes around the third month for me...sometimes sooner...and i become this apathetic thing th at skips class and sleeps late. its got something do do with winter, maybe. i hibernate through hundreds of dollars worth of classes and the apathy kills me. so no school. at least not for awhile. til i really want it again.). i don't want a hugely successful job, exactly. i mean, i wouldn't mind a desk job or maybe data entry, perhaps. something where there isn't too much demand and where the pay is enough to get by on and maybe save a little...or a lot. something like a nest egg. something to invest in a cd or a roth ira or something that someone my age is supposed to invest in. but i don't want to buy a house. i don't want to write a book because i don't think i can write a book that i haven't already read. and i don't want to open my own coffee shop or vegetarian resteraunt or curio shop or any of that. these things are a dime a dozen. i don't want anything. except maybe a diamond. or a baby. but then. i get all full of rage and throw kittens sometimes. so i think i might not be a good mother. but these are things that i don't want tomorrow. or even next year. these are things that come in their own time. and honestly, i don't even know if these are true wants...more like...thoughtful thoughts. so i don't want anything. i just want to get by and live life slowly and watch days turn to weeks turn to months right now. and to think about what it is that i'm supposed to be doing. and in the meantime, i don't mind working my ass off to get us on top again...to get him through school. what else have i got to do anyway, really? is that selfish of me? or selfless? lazy? wise? whatever it is, its all i want....to not have to want for awhile. to not have to have an answer. the woman inside me though...sometimes, she screams. she says its not enough to want what i want for him. but the lover inside me knows that the woman had better shut up for a bit...because...i feel like this is the right thing.

the book club has been on a sort of hiatus since the first meeting. we read Don Delillo's White Noise then. it was michael's turn to pick the book and he went with The Invisable Man, which we all sort of concede is a horrible read. so we've switched it to Many Lives, Many Masters. and will meet soon. its good that we will, too...because i miss my friends. i miss the people in my life whom i most trust and love.

brian has moved in downstairs from me. its nice to have him close by. its nice to be able to do something for him after years and years of his getting me through my heartaches...its all i can offer. i hate to see him this way. and i hate that boy for being so heartless with my closest friend's heart. i want to smash him into a million little parts and throw him away.

i learned a new crochet (stitch? knot? thing?) from the lady who is living with my parents. and so my friends can expect crochet'd items for christmas, probably. at least...until my fingers clench up in an eternal fist and the tips bleed from the dryness of spun yarn. the soft kind thats fuzzy.

other than that, my stories are the same. we laugh. we cry. we drink glasses of wine and listen to the news jazz npr station on the old magnavox stereo that my aunt sent while we play rummy. we go out into the cold. we watch our breath freeze in the moonlight. we tell each other about the stars and the eclipses and the planets. we sleep. we live life.

and thats what this is all about, i think. this is the excuse. i've been living life and disconnecting from the things that keep me motionless. i am one of autumn's last leaves clinging to that maple across the street this season, not ready to be locked in for winter, when the words seem to flow most easily. i am speechless here but living loudly and freely otherwise. so don't you worry too much. i haven't forgotten you. and i read every word you scribe. and i take your lessons and they mingle with mine. and i want you to know that our paths...will always cross again.

until, cats.

be well.

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.what came before. - .what happened next.

a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017
baseball season to football season, abbreviated - 25 september 2017
the doodles - 11 july 2017
at arm's length - 4 july 2017
like a sea-mammal needs a bicycle - 30 may 2017

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