Archive for February, 2002

Had a pretty decent day.

Slept too long and woke up in a good, give-em-hell mood. Did the dishes, swept the kitchen floor and vacuumed the living room, all by ten am. Went to work and was friendly to all (Happy Chinese New Year), got a lot done and called the phone company, who were saints about the overly-overdue bills.

So I got home and my mom called.

Her voice was very soft and she said “We had to take Krissy up to the vet today. We put her down.” Isn’t it funny how these things broadside you? Krissy had been sick since last August and it seemed for a while there she was getting better. She was old. Fifteen to be precise. We got her for Christmas the year I was in second grade (I was eight, my sister was six and my brother was four) and named her Christmas (actually it was Christmas Socks)…Chrissy for short (turned into Krissy a long, long time ago). She was a complete surprise for us kids. We had wanted a puppy, since we already had my parents’ dog, Penny, a huge German Shepherd. She was so tiny and so fat she dragged her little puppy rolls around the floor when she chased us.

Somehow I think that I thought she would be around forever. I mean she was KRISSY, my family dog. I don’t think I remember a time we didn’t have her and it’s hard to think of my family’s house without her. My parents didn’t sit with her when they put her down…and I think that’s what hurts the most. That she had to die alone. But my mom swears she wasn’t scared.

And I want to believe her. I really do. But I would’ve sat right there with her. To make sure she wasn’t.

So pet your doggies tonight, lovies.

I know I will.


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I think I’ve made my departure from being a rockin’ chick. From raging guitars and mosh pits and head banging and rockin’ out.

I have found my love…and that is trance. Techno. Dance.

I love it all.

I think that I came to this realization last night while sitting in my living room with Neil and Mikey after our weekly Saturday Dinner (consisting of cheese stuffed tomatoes, cucumber, green bean and olive salad courtesy of Martha Stewart, green peppers stuffed with tomatoes, red wine, garlic and topped with gorgonzola cheese, chicory and potato hash (an original SAVE THE POTATO PANCAKES recipe) and sunken chocolate tarts with vanilla Tofutti) HIGHLY under the influence of a certain mood altering substance listening to eqx‘s Heavy Mental. I love it all. How can someone say that dance music is the product of untalented thiefs who let computers do the work? Someone who has not taken off on a cold Sunday afternoon and driven towards the ice-topped peak of Mount Monadnock as sun jutted through gray clouds and the thumping of your friend’s subwoofer made you feel real and whole and know that everything in the world is right and that it’s all a movie anyway. I can feel it in every fiber of my being.


So I just dropped a couple of bucks at (a now nearly monthly purchase) for some new CDs as ima is getting boring and my best bud is the dance channel on DMX.

And Neil won the new deep sky CD last night on Heavy Mental. It was like 11:30 and he wanted to win something. He was caller number one…three…five…six…and seven. It was kind of funny. Someone else out there must of got discouraged…but not Neil. He wanted it.

And he has a job.

And life is good.

And I am happy.

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It’s like Nicole went inside my head and blurted out everything I’ve been thinking and feeling over the last couple of days…hell, the last couple of weeks…months even.

I’ve suspected it from the start. That he’s like that Garbage song…only happy when it rains. Only content when things are complicated and smiling when life sucks the very most, thriving off his own pain…only truly feeling alive when he can rage out about the newest bane on his existance. He’ll apply for jobs, but won’t call them back until a week later, at 6pm on a Friday night and get all mad when the managers are all gone.

And I feel like I’m drowning in it.

I told my parents when he quit his job I would give him until February to find a job and get his life back on track or I would move home. But I don’t want to move home. I know that’s it’s there and it always will be, but I know it’s someplace that I can’t and won’t go back to. I promised him I would stick by him and be his friend until the end, that I wouldn’t give up on him, that I wouldn’t lose faith in him.

But you can’t have faith in someone who has no faith in themselves. Who hates themself more than anyone ever could. Who sees themselves as unloved and unliked, as a sub-human being, not worth the second glance of some guy on the street, much less a potential employer. It’s emotionally draining, to sit through one of his now famous temper tantrums, to see him fling inanimate objects about the living room like an overly-tall two year old who’s been told to put his toys away and go to bed. To listen to his own self-loathing incantations until my own heart hurts. It’s so hard to even try to give him a hand up when it seems all he wants is hand out.

And to be perfectly honest, I can’t afford this anymore. I’m completely broke. I’m emotionally broke. I’m tired of listening to him complain about his life and not do anything to change it. To see him only half-try because he’s sure he’s going to fail…that it’s not worth it. That nothing is worth it. That he should just give up.

And I want to tell him to give up. To just throw in the towel and get it over with already. But I can’t because I can’t stand to see him suffering the way he does.

And I can’t afford $600.00 a month by myself.

So how much longer can I do this?

And why did I write all this?

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