The next night we camped at the Andrew Malera State Park campsite, an old college stomping ground. It’s great cause it’s got flush toilets and all that, but you have to go about a quarter mile from the parking lot. This means no RVs and not a lot of people bringing in too much junk. It’s right on the coast.
I came back for the Choices graduation which turned out to be awesome. A few students I had had were graduating and it was great to see. Then off to the Choices dinner at El Torito. It was a set price, of course, and we each had little placemats which contained our orders. Kippie, the office manager, was organizing all the little logistical intricacies, Marie hobnobbed with the district brass, and the sportsloving men got loaded and raucous. Everything seemed in its place, like a little world where everyone has their own role. Friendships, hierarchies and alliances changed and shifted, like a little ecosystem. It’s reassuring, reminds me of my visit last fall.
i just ate a small piece of typhoid. or at least i think it was a small piece of typhoid. last couple days i got all my shots out of the way. all i have left are these pills which i can only assume are made from live typhoid. all they told me was that i have to take one every two days so as not to overdose. and the box says that there are living things in it. the whole concept of innoculations is weird. it’s like you get one of the enemy soldiers all tied up and blindfolded and give him over to the defense forces and they just beat the shit out of him. then apparently you’re immune.
i’m on this crazy sleep cycle. i have to get a handle on my schedule. i’m either tired or i can’t sleep; i’m doing nothing at all and then all of a sudden i’m rushing to keep up. it’s all a symptom of not having a home base or structure. no calendar, no regular meals, no place to store my clothes. my parents have essentially converted their childrens’ rooms into storage rooms, piling up the things they never use but won’t throw away. because no one uses the stuff in the rooms everything is overstocked, things falling off the shelves. it becomes a game of my moving stuff from shelf to shelf or out of one room and putting it in another. My clothes litter the floor because the dresser is filled with sheets, blankets and nicknacks and the clothes rack overflows with suits my dad hasn’t worn in 10 years. books are piled two deep in the bookshelves. it’s too much for me. i lost my phone today and had to search for over an hour to find it disguised on a shelf with a million objects that made no sense together. i swear i will clean this room out. make it safe for civilization.
i can’t wait till the end of the month. i was thinking of ways to keep occupied. since spending all the money on the plane ticket i feel crunched for cash. so then i figured i might do some kind of job for a week or two. but what kind of job could i get for that amount of time? sharon tells me that i should get excited about something. i think i may get excited about making a travel website. that’ll keep me occupied for a few days…
I’m sitting at the Fuel coffeeshop. Victrola, my usual coffeeshop has banned laptops on the weekends. They want to encourage conversations and save tablespace. It was getting to the point that you’d have the whole coffeeshop full of people staring at screens. I’m typing onto this little Dell laptop I bought because I was so freaked out that I didn’t know what else to do but buy a laptop and I kept it because I was too lazy to return it within the deadline. It’s plasticy and heavier than I would like but it gets the job done and the wireless is pretty on top of it. It came installed with Encarta Encyclopedia and a lot of other useless software which I immediately uninstalled. They’re almost dinosaurs compared to the speed and reliablity of Wikipedia and other opensource solutions that come with a broadband connection to the internet.
I’m in a coffeeshop right now because my ex girlfriend is at my apartment rooting through my old stuff and deciding what to take for her new place. It’s strange. I want her to have the stuff but contact with her, even distantly, still rubs at the old wounds. Happily Dan took care of organizing everything.
Protecting yourself becomes a top secret mission.
Dan calls me: “we’ll be gone in five minutes.”
Then I can return. It’s like I have a disease. I can’t be exposed or I will relapse into indecision and low self-esteem. It’s weird admitting your own limitations, your own failures. We wish we were stronger and we value our weaknesses but admitting the problem is the first step to recovery.
But now it’s time to go back and take a nap, pack some stuff up, and relax before watching motorcycle diaries with a beautiful girl later tonight. Life is easier when you’re about to move away.
a few weeks ago i freaked out and called everyone to tell them i was freaking out, that i didn’t know where my life was going, that i was a bit depressed. everyone was very supportive, very nice. main point of advice: stop talking to aviva and either start travelling or get a job.
i went back to sacramento and made an appointment to see a career counselor. it was cool. i met with the nice lady and today i took her career aptitude test. it turned out to be a glorified personality test, dividing people into four catagories. it nailed me pretty well and then went on to describe careers from photojournalist to art therapist. it felt pretty good to be done with the test and it made me think a bit about where i want to go in the future.
so i’m sitting here waiting for aviva’s call and it’s like 1am and she’s clearly not going to call. it’s sad. i figure she probably just has more important things. i break down and call. i go straight to voicemail: her phone is off. probably dead. she was complaining that she had no batteries.
yknow… it makes sense. sure. her cellphone is out of batteries and a bit dysfunctional. i wonder if one day i could take her cellphone out to coffee. we’d probably have a lot to talk about.
bitter, i remind myself that she has many other friends who can provide support. i surf over to friendster and it turns out that she has 147 friends and glowing testimonials that say things like:
This girl is like no one else in the
world. I fell in love instantly. She
can make the darkest days into
colorful, messy, silly, hazy costume
parties. She has the softest upper
arms of anyone. It’s quite obvious
that I miss her terribly.
This girl is gold!!! If you meet her,
don’t let go.
with that kind of fanclub she doesn’t need me waiting up at 1am for a phonecall that doesn’t come.
then i notice that friendster has given aviva and i a joint horoscope:
You and Aviva can overcome any bumps on the road.
It’s time to share the love — affection abounds right now, in a myriad of forms and a multitude of ways. The time is right to let someone (or someones) know just how much their presence has really brightened up your life. It doesn’t have to be mushy and sentimental, nor does it have to be perfectly expressed. What matters most is sharing your sincere appreciation of your relationship. So go ahead — express yourself.
screw you, friendster.
It’s funny how you can get caught between two diametrically opposed points of view. Both are equally valid but to the exclusion of the other. I’m caught between travelling and putting down roots, between hoping that Aviva and I will get back together and getting over it. I’m sitting in Victrola listening to Ira Glass wax on about the screwball comedy notion of “just” friends in Get Over It.
In the episode he and his exgirlfriend go to Saks Fifth Avenue. They have been broken up for six months but still talking on the phone a few times a week. No sex but relying on eachother for emotional needs. In the small moments of her emotional distance, his trying to make the connection, whether he comes into the dressing room to see her try on clothes or not, her getting a black miniskirt for a date with a new guy. It all makes him wonder: what am I doing here?
It’s so interesting the difference between making a decision and following through. It’s so easy to talk about the green grass over there but making the journey “over there”
How much information do you want about the new guy/girl?
You want them to be happy BUT it’s sad that they’re happy without you.
I am happy. I enjoy my days. Yesterday I had a great time working with Teruki on the computer and eating dinner over at Devon’s. I’m learning a lot on Flash. Ira talks about willing yourself to get over someone or something. I want it to be NOW. I want it to be OVER. I want to have MOVED ON.
Life here in Seattle is kind of tough because I’m purposeless. Before when I asked myself why I was here I would answer: so I can be near Aviva. This was a terrible answer and, for the most part, I blame it for breaking us up. But now that we are broken up, why am I here? And I guess I am here cause I signed a lease and I’m stuck here. Otherwise I’d be… travelling. I think it’s hard to travel unless you’re running from something or going to somewhere and now I guess I will be doing both soon.
A lot of my problem is that I have nothing to “show” for being here. No big ol stamp on the resume. I remember the first time I ever hung out with Aviva she was upset because she had learned so much abroad but it wasn’t quantifiable. We drew with pastels and I was telling her that the stuff she had learned would be with her all her life. That she didn’t need a piece of paper just to say she had learned something.
Maybe I’ll draw myself a diploma.
I need one.
I wonder if I should give myself a minor…
so i guess i’m single now.
uhhhmmm…. yeah. single.
i guess it’s a cliche but i’m discovering all that extra time that i
always felt i never had. it’s amazing the stuff you can get
accomplished when you’re single.
the breakup was good. respectful. probably as good as it gets. both
of us were upset. both of us love eachother. neither of us is huge on
dating other people immediately. i really couldn’t have expected
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