metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sink or swim It's raining again. I like the rain. It has been a very rainy summer this year, so one might think I am so very happy. But it is not so. This summer has been eventful and stressful and I have retreated into myself. I need time. I need space. So I take it, and it does not fulfill me. I need a change of scene or habit - or both - but I do not allow myself that luxury. I want to pay off some bills, and lovely Elizabeth in her last act of generosity left me a little money. So I will use that to ease my debt burden. So why does this not make me happy? It really will make a difference and still I avoid paying the bills. I am not allowing myself the good feeling of completeness. Why? Why do I punish myself - for that is what this is - and deny myself good feeling and rest from the stress? I must push through this barrier I have erected and motivate and enjoy. Today is all I have. I have to shake this - this - depression. The rain today ruined these shoes. I am sad to see that, although they are very old shoes - 10 years old. I remember when I bought them. They were such a sweet deal. A going out of business sale that really was a sale. And they had something in my size. huzzah! But, now, I must get rid of them because the water stain is slowing sliding its way up the leather and it is leaving a little wavy stain that does nothing for these shoes. I guess it's time to say goodbye to them. I never liked you anyway, you old biscuit eaters! Go on, get out! I think I can trace my depression back to my shit hair cut. It all went downhill when the lunatic who had been cutting my hair the same way for a year (and I showed him the same picture I always bring so he will remember how to cut my hair) cut it much shorter and in a weird non-style and then I went back and he tried to "fix" it but made it worse and then I went back one more time (I know. That's what everybody said. But he had been doing it perfectly for a year! I thought this may have just been a bad stretch of the road, or something like that) and he cut it for free because he knew I hated it and he really fucked it up this time. I am so pathetic. I take the picture like they say in the magazines and I show them what I want and it is not a difficult style to cut - long layers - and I am clutching my fucking picture and I leave with my fucking hair looking NOTHING like the picture. NOTHING LIKE IT. So then I bleached it. So it is orange and choppy looking. If I were 20 I could brazen it out and wear it and start and trend for fuck sake. But a 51 year old woman is another story and I look like a burned out old bar maid (no offense to bar maids around the world) who doesn't give a shit. And, really, now, I don't give a shit. So it has all gone downhill since April. So now K wants me to go to Atlanta and get a "good" haircut. He means one that costs 75+ bucks. He thinks because you spend that much money they don't fuck you up. But I know he's wrong. Because I have clutched a sweaty picture of my desired hair style in my little unmanicured sweaty hand while standing in the reception area of a la-ti-dah salon, and walked out with a fucked up hair cut and 80 bucks poorer. So. I am just at an impasse. I need/want a hair cut, but I am just inclined to never, ever have it cut again. And my hair will reach to the stars... I just don't know. Ring finger to them all. I bought a $4.99 watch at a large local discount retailer (rhymes with hay fart). I like it alot. I bought it because I thought maybe I was always late because I did not know what time it was. But, I have been later since wearing it, so maybe I should just take it off... K dropped me off this morning because we are going grocery shopping after work tonight. So we car-pooled. Really I should have dropped him off because the store is closer to where he works, but I was too out of it this morning to work on logistics of grocery shopping. Like I give a rats ass anyway. But I kinda do. I wish I could go to journal con, like Sundry and Weetabix. I partly don't consider myself worthy. (I'm not worthy!) Really. I don't feel like what I do here is as good as what they do here. Why do I do that to myself? Low self esteem more than likely. So anyway, I wish I could go to Journal Con. Austin is so cool. Maybe someday I might feel as though I am a diarist. Maybe someday I might feel like I have something substantial, worthwhile to share. I aspire to that moment. It shall be one of my goals. Maybe next year . . . *sigh* When people begin their lives as wondering and wondrous beings, when is it that it changes? I like to say my life was great until I hit 10 and it has been downhill ever since. And I kinda mean it. I just don't know why it changed for me. Puberty hit me early - 11. I think that was part of it. After that, I did not feel so carefree. And I think I was treated differently with different, vague expectations that I knew nothing of. Everyone seemed to know what to expect of me but me. Nobody told me what they expected. I just knew it was different. It was disconcerting for me. The old ways did not work and no one was showing me the ropes. I was treading water. Sink or swim. I used to think I somehow learned to swim. But, deep down I wonder if, instead of learning to swim, I just sank... 2:37 p.m. - 2003-08-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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