5/17/00
"There is no damn reason I should have to be so alone...I'm smothered with this emptiness, Lord, I wish I was made of stone..."
I've been in a real Maria McKee mood this week. Stevie is still my first love, but Maria--the bitch just lays it on the damn line. No symbolism here, thank you. Just plain and simple and without room for interpretation. Take it or leave it. She's my kind of girl.
I was reading one of the other journals I read (you know who you are--but don't be alarmed, I only stalk people who are in closer physical proximity!) and she was relaying this really wild conversation she had with her mother...it kind of made me laugh at first because I was trying to picture bitchy, crazy me and my little round Southern-Baptist maw having the same conversation and man, that was really funny. Then she said something about being asked about (or being told about) doing Godspell, and even though I've done the damn show twice and really prefer Jesus Christ Superstar, I nearly cried...it was all I could do to not dig up her phone number (God Bless Directory Assistance) and ask her who I would have to sleep with to do that show in her stead. God, to have the opportunity...I want so badly to sing again. It seems like my actual pursuit of a good use for that talent was really short-lived. The yearning is so strong, I've actually considered totally selling my soul and singing -- ack -- country music. That, my friends, is true desperation. I hate country, I hate it I hate it I hate it (with only a few exceptions--Patsy Cline [of course], Hank Williams SENIOR, hell, even Mary Chapin Carpenter if I'm having a really bad day). But alternatively, it's a relatively easy arena in which to get a start. If you don't believe me, just look at what it did for Jimmy Buffett and k.d. lang--no, Nashville wasn't kind to them by any means, but it gave them recognition (bad press is better than no press, right?) and it gave them the gumption to get off their asses and really do something.
I think I need that. Big time.
I actually ran about half of my 2-mile jaunt this morning. What's up with this? Am I trying to be healthy? It doesn't seem complicated unless you're aware of just how little I have moved throughout my 27 years. Always last picked for the kickball team, always last in the race, always first to drop from the chin-up bar. I have hated sports with my entirety for most of my life (baseball being the only exception, but I don't play, I was never good enough). Even when I danced, I was never one of the "stars." The other girls were always better, or cuter, or more coordinated, or whatever (I was good, just not perfect). Even Megan makes me feel horribly inadequate in that arena. When she tried to teach me how to play tennis, she made me cry. (Picture her in her best cheerleader stance--hands on hips, one knee bent, foot tapping--saying "are you gonna SERVE that ball or not?") I refuse to do any kind of exercising with her because she's a damn gym snob. (Why is it that so many people who do something well are such snobs about it?)
So here I am...pushing 30...I've just given up my vision of myself that I've carried with me throughout my life, and I have no sweet clue where to go from here. Damn. This is almost scarier than therapy.
"A heart that's worn and weathered would know better than to fight, but I wore mine like a weapon...and it wrung me and strung me out, hung years on my face...my sense of humor needs a break...I see a shadow in the mirror and she's laughing through her tears...one more smile's all I can fake..."
I am deeply afraid that I will end up one of those sad, pathetic little people who sits at home on weekend nights eating Haagen Daas from the carton and watching videotapes of all the shows she did "back in the day" and listening to Springsteen wail about his own "glory days" and say stupid ass things like, "man, he sure hit the nail on the head with this song..." I think I would rather sever a limb. With my own teeth.
"Where are you going, where have you been?" Good fucking questions. But I don't have time to answer them right now, I have to go spend the next 8 hours of my day being someone's underpaid personal slave. I really need a change of scenery...
(Later) I have ceased working. Actually, I have e-mailed my resume to a local hospital who recently ran an ad for a transcriptionist, Sunday thru Thursday, evenings, "flexible." If they offer me at least $13 an hour and the hours truly are "flexible," I'm all over it. I think I could dig working nights for a change. Hey, then I'd be able to watch Montelevision...rock on.
I called the vet school this morning and they won't even CONSIDER an application until you've spent several hundred hours "shadowing" vets in the three practice areas (domestic, livestock, critters), plus I am almost positive that I don't have the proper science background to cover an application. Fuckin' A. Oh, well, there's always that chance that I would have gotten into it, then realized my absolute inability to tolerate organs. (I'm not talkin' the church kind, neither.) And then I'd be that much deeper into my time deficit. Oh, that I could blissfully assume that I will live forever, like Peter Pan, and never get old, and never ever die, and have all the time in the world to fulfill my desires... YEAH, well, that ain't happening, so I guess I'll just have to deal with the knowledge of my own mortality and the fear it strikes in my soul.
SO for the time being, I am still settling for law school. Because I went through every single degree that UMKC offers and not one of them really "pumped my nads." (Watch The Breakfast Club recently?) So I'm thinking, shit, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. "Independently wealthy" is really the only thing that comes to mind...
"What I wanted wasn't really what I wanted...How can you claim to know me when you have other things to occupy your time?...tied my tongue off with a wire, now my head is full of liars...I'm not listening anymore..."
More and more it seems I'm incorporating song lyrics into these entries. Maybe because it seems like someone else has already said what I want to say a lot of the time, and they've said it well enough that I don't feel the need to embellish.
Or maybe I'm just lazy.
Going tanning tonight (funny considering I used to be one of the proud, the pale, the "UV rays will kill you" girls), then dropping off my damn phone at the store for repair, then to WalMart (God, just kill me now, I hate hate HATE that place)...is tomorrow Friday? I can't even keep my days straight anymore.
I need divine inspiration. Any ideas?
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