Garbage 09.24.98 UC Davis, Freeborn Hall
09.25.98
11:35PM
So by this time Beth's read what she will of this journal. Good/bad/ineffectual, I wonder what effect it had. Haven't heard from her since wednesday eve so I dunno...
Last night's show was great. Uni policy was no backpacks apparently, so I had to crotch my deck and figger places for other things to get through doors...actually had no problems getting everything in, wahoo! I thought it was kind of odd in that circular path of life to be crotching again. Last show as a civilian, last show period for who knows how long, and I'm back crotching for only the second time, the first being the first time I taped a show...way back in 1996, Seven Mary Three at the Fillmore...I went to that show with Chris. Life is funny strange more than funny ha ha I suppose...
Checking levels It seemed I was brickwalling and getting distortion since peaks were'nt jumping around much...switched the decibal pad on the SBM1 which seemed to solve the problem...a problem I've never had since except for last night when I forgot to check, the pad has always been used...ho hum, whatever.
Got to work a few minutes early today and walked around as normally do. Sudden instinct caused me to plop down $10 on Lotto scratchers...good call wound up winning $32. Work was kind of boring...getting really edgy to leave. Delivery is starting to wear super super thin. It's hard for me to picture myself two weeks from now, in "reception" getting paperwork and shots and my uniform and all that such stuff that has to happen before basic training proper. Two weeks from now I'll be in South Carolina during hurricane season. that should certainly make for exciting times...Even this close I'm having trouble picturing it. It's just too new an experience, too foreign to try to imagine it.
Looking upon the time I've spent with Beth has forced
issues to the forefront of my attention...my dysfunctional views and experiences
with love/emotion. Too a large extent I have myself to blame...always afraid
to stay in one place for long, afraid to make a short term commitment,
afraid at this point to lose my virginity for something that becomes a
meaningless fling--when I held it so long hoping for something good, something
pure, something beautifull. In some ways, virginity's a stone to hide myself
behind as well. I am a little afraid of sex, maybe terrified but i can't
admit it even to myself yet, so it's easy to just say "I'm holding out
for true love"...in hopes that true love will soothe my fears and understand
my inexperience. Now, at this point, how am I to know that true love will
baulk due to my inexperience? Will love wait for me to learn the ways of
good sex? Superficial love it would be to beg off because of that, but
I've started to lose my faith in the whole idea of love...What is love
afterall but some human function that exists to ensure the proliferation
of the species. I don't know how many times I've called infatuation love,
simply because I was caught up in emotions that both elevated me and frightened
me...thoughts that made my heart race and my stomach churn. Gleeming eyes
staring back from the mirror, etc. etc. etc. How many times have I realized
my folly to my own chagrine and to the object of my affection? How many
times have I thought I had something special only to discover it as the
hornet's nest it really was. I've over Becca now, and it took years for
me to see what I thought could be love wasn't what I wanted it to be.
When you spend years hoping for the right girl to come
along, for love, you'd think after a while the truth of the matters would
come, the knowledge of what love is would spark a fire in consciousness...but
the fact is that I am no closer to knowing, really knowing, what love is
now, then I was at the high school prom with April. Some people look past
on their relationships with fond memories I guess. So far I haven't had
that privelage because I've never been anything but hurt by relationships...possibly
a contributing cause to my reluctance to begin a relationship with anyone,
finding reasons to put it off, avoid it, run away, refuse to settle down
in the name of adventure, of seeing the world, of living as full a life
as possible.
If I could choose, right now, tonight, between that true
love I dream about with an average slave to the grind life , and that "full
as possible life" lived berefit of such love...I just can't say. Such a
neurotic mess of thoughts and emotions, of tears and laughter. Maybe I
have serious mental health problems that cause me to be the way I am. Perhaps
the synapses in my brain are all fucked over--resulting in this great joining
of the creative and analytical halves of the brain...but also resulting
in fucked over concepts of truth and beauty and love...
Such an easy word to toss around , "love" so easy to ponder, discuss, worry over, when the entire meaning of it is still beyond me. All I know is who I am myself, before anything else, and even that confuses me most of the time. How is it possible to learn anything meaningfull about world around me when my very self is only now becoming clear to me...I'm an escape artist and I'm always running away from what I know, in pretense of this "only live once and death is the final end" mindset. Everyone is an escapist to some extent, avoiding daily life for pursuit of some goal, lofty or otherwise, some activity or whatever. Perhaps I still take it too far sometimes...
My mind is spinning itself donuts and I can't seem to get where I'm trying to go. Doesn't help that I don't know where I'm going. Too much of my life is opening up before me. Too much is still open for interpretation and exploration to find answers for any of my questions...23 years old already though--it's true the old addage that as you get older you only learn how little you know. All I gain every year are more questions, about myself now for the most part. 23 and I'm a long way from piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of myself.
But before I finish off, maybe I should step back a bit and pull together some of my hopes for this true love that may or may not exist:
Of course it just occured to me that, where this used to be a long list of things, like "like's rock music", or "well read", or "philosophical", or "traveling", or "funny as fuck" or or or or....now the list boils down: "someone that makes me happy when I'm sad, and excited to be alive when I'm happy, someone I can live me life with and be just as intrigued with on my deathbed as the day we met...and someone I do the same for". Even that is an explosion of the simple thing: "makes me happy and is made happy by me".
Not too high an ambition is it? I just can't help but
be afraid that I'll just "end up" with someone, that I'll "settle" for
someone just because the search drags on, and not be happy. Is it better
to be sort of in love and with someone than alone and miserable? What will
this cycle of lonliness/contentness stretch itself to...a year of peacefull
solitude, then a year of intense depressive solitude and intenseive searching
for her?
One year from now, will I still be stumbling over myself
about this. Will I give up this useless squabbling?
12:28AM