5/19/00
"Nothing fits and everything feels wrong...I know where you're going, I know where you've been...though I never been in love, I know now how it feels to miss someone..."
I hate the whole damned world today. My job sucks, my girlfriend is self-centered, I have no friends, I've gained 15 pounds since my 27th birthday, I'm getting old, I'm fucking nuts (and yet remarkably more sane than I ever realized), and I'm HUNGRY. I'm fucking tired of starving myself just so I can make it through dinner without having to unbutton my fucking pants.
And today I'm really pissed that it seems as if all of the people in my life that have meant the absolute most to me have, at some point, deserted me. But I wonder--should I be pissed at them for leaving, or pissed at myself for driving them all away? Or both? Or should I just be pissed in general at the wicked hand of fate?
I have really begun to wonder lately if I'm just not a likeable person. Part of the reason I started this on-line diary thing is because I needed a forum--some place to spout and spout and spout all of the shit that I can't tell Megan and truthfully, I type faster than I write and actually "writing" gives me awful hand cramps. (I'm so MODERN!) Plus there was that pathetic hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would read the shit that comes out of my head and say, "hey, she really inspires me/pisses me off/makes me think/ thinks like me on some twisted level" and would actually fill me in on that. Sluttin' the Internet for buddies. God, I have truly sunk to an all-time unequivocal disgusting LOW. Somebody please e-mail me so I can give you my address and directions to my house and you can SHOOT ME and put me out of all of our miseries... I am ashamed of myself. I need a bag of chips. This Milky Way Lite I'm noshing on just isn't cutting it.
I didn't run this morning because when the alarm went off it was still dark out. I think it may have been raining. And I was too tired to move, anyway. I'm so, so glad it's Friday.
One of Megan's social work co-workers is quitting as of today, so we're all meeting up at the Brooksider (a little bar in the hip-trendy-liberal-ritzy-artsy-subdivision known as...Brookside, how DO these bars come up with such clever monikers?) after work. Good. I need to drink, I think, and the Brooksider has the best damn hot wings I've tasted in a long time. Plus in the basement (which is where we always sit) they have all manner of 80's tunes on the jukebox--INXS, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, the B-52's, REM, all the best. Then tomorrow is my sister and her dipshit's annual family cue and brew, which should be good for comic value, if nothing else. Especially since dipshit's Navy sister and her Navy fiancee will also be there. Hmmm...big burly navy guy meets big-mouthed dykes. Oh, this oughtta be real good... I am looking forward to seeing the sister, though. We talked on the phone last night and it just absolutely floors me how such different people can come from the same family. I have nothing in common with any of my siblings. It's like we live on different planets. I guess in a way, we do. But it's kind of lonely to not have a family you can actually get on the same wavelength with.
It's like I was talking about yesterday, when I read that other diary-er's conversation with her mom? (And if you're reading this, dear, PLEASE don't get offended, I mean no offense and truthfully, I'm jealous.) They were talking about all this spiritual stuff and about living life to its fullest extent and inner peace and stuff and I was thinking...hmm...how would a similar conversation ring between me and MY old lady?
Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hold on, I'm on the other line. (My mother isn't internet savvy, so this takes place via phone.) (Long pause while she wraps up other conversation...) Hi, what'd you need?
Me: Oh, nothing, mom, just calling to see how things are going with y'all.
Mom: Oh, we're all right. (Unspoken: your sister had to go back to the hospital, your grandma's been sick, we're about to throw your other sister out of the house, your brother nearly got arrested again the other night.)
Me: You know, mom, I think I'm really starting to get in touch with myself.
Mom: What do you mean? Is this about you being in therapy?
Me: No, mom, I mean, I'm starting to have a deeper understanding of what I'm about, what I want, what I need in life. It's all starting to make sense. I think.
Mom: Are you smoking dope?
Me: No, why?
Mom: Angie, you sound like you're smoking dope.
Me: (growing agitated) No, mom, I'm not smoking dope. Stop asking me.
Mom: Well, I was just asking... (pause) Are you still going to school?
Me: Yes, mom, I'm graduating this year--remember?
Mom: Oh, yeah, you're still graduating in December?
Me: Yes, mom.
Mom: Well, I hope the weather doesn't get bad that day, because you know we don't like to get out when the weather's bad.
Me: (gritting teeth) Yes, mom, I know. (heavy sigh) I'm really wondering if law school is the right choice for me. I mean, I just don't know.
Mom: (silence)
Me: Mom?
Mom: Oh, sorry, hold on...(talking to someone else in background) Okay, honey, what?
Me: I said--
Mom: Well, Angie, your problem is that you just get bored too easy. You always have.
Me: I don't think that's quite--
Mom: I remember how you always got bored in school and never could finish anything. But, I guess you kids will all figure it out on your own...can't tell you anything.
Me: Mom, what the fuck are you talking about?
Mom: Oh, that's nice. That's a real nice way to talk to your mother.
Me: Uh, I gotta go, mom...someone's at the door...the Census people, I think...
(Now I really hope my family never sees this because that whole exchange, based on previous conversations, would REALLY piss the old lady off.) I don't think my mother and I could communicate any more poorly if one of us were from the Planet of the Apes. I don't think we've ever been on the same plane. Once in a blue moon, maybe. I envy that about other people. Megan and her mom may have a tenuous relationship, at best, but they can at least relate on some level (generally on that level on which they enjoy being obnoxious and irritating).
I'd love to relate to somebody. I think Maria and I should get together. All of her songs have to do with drinking and hard living and generally being an idiot. Together, there'd be no stopping us...
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