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2002:May:3
Good evening gentle reader.
I trust that you are all well tonight. I have missed you immensely. Much ado about nothing at work, as of late, and I have been weary, so weary, gentle reader. I could cry you a river of aches and pains, mostly physical, and, lately, mental. The unending repetition of Aunt C's tumor or sister E's surgery, etc, etc.. and then the details, the tremendous sea of unnecessary words that only stop when one is with a customer. So, this is selfish of me, I know, once again, but I just want to get my work done and go home.
I laughed like a madman the other night. I think I was three beers into a post work shakeoff. I just want to stop thinking about all that stuff. I think never having two days off in a row is really starting to make me crack. I never go anywhere or do anything as of late. I sometimes feel like I just cannot turn off the cranky, disappointed me, as I continue to beat myself up when I come home to a dirty house. I feel like I am getting behind, though. I have to try harder. My nighttime eating is out of hand. I avoid paying my bills, because I know I need to make plans, etc. etc. Pay this bill, this paycheck, etc. Sorry about all this dull stuff, I am trying to figure out why I avoid the easiest most mundane things that seem to control my free time.
Well, ok, I allow them to do this, that is true, gentle reader. Cigarettes, beer, candles, bjork, you, sigh, I think I just need a little time off or something. I will not be getting a new job tomorrow or the next day. I have to try harder though, again. Paint houses, maybe? Hmmm, am I too vain about my skin and too intolerant of the heat to handle that? Perhaps. No, well, more that I am so out of shape. It was 91 degrees today. Jeez! I just loathe hot weather. It makes me, again, feel very crazy and cranky. So, I have been taking walks on the beach, lately, in a desperate effort to get more attractive faster.
I feel like time is running out for me.
Once summer arrives, this feeling magnifies when I am surrounded by a sea of boys who I could not possibly look like with my shirt off for at least two years. "You do it to yourself/ you do/ and that's why it really hurts/ You do it to yourself/ its true" Funny, several times, when on these day off walks, I am interrupted by a couple who wants me to take a picture. Beautiful, young couples, so wonderful, so fleeting. They will compare all to this first love. They are always so happy, so unafraid of me, the effeminate stranger. I cannot replace the past. I cannot deny that I feel a sharp pang when I see this young love that I missed. Love, before all this work stuff, bills, and such. That secret, overwhelming desires to spend every free moment, at first, anyway, together. Or so I have been told and that is what I feel like I see in these couples.
But that is what I chose to see, because I am forever reliving the lost past through strangers. I could say that about cruising too. Making up for lost time? Doing something? Even if it is bad? Oh vey! Oh, and bless that couple, and all couples, good for you.
Honestly, no wonder I do not, or rather, have not had a significant other, because, well, yes, I am a freak. I am afraid of falling fast for someone before I can really glean the very best from myself. I should be running, writing to you, cleaning my house, faster, all the time, gratefully. Perhaps, I am a romantic too, in that I believe that I will run into the "one" or whatever, and then quickly become a hopeless mess in love. Maybe, maybe not. We shall see. First, I must be comfortable in my own skin.
Thanks.
Night.
Love.
Me.




›post #16
›bio: michael
›perma-link
›5/3/2002
›22:09

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