Archive for August, 2002

I’m tired.

I don’t know what else to say besides that. It’s been a long weekend. I’m not relaxed.

I think half the reason I’m so pissed off is because my brother went to college today. He’s in Vermont, my sister’s in Florida.

And I’m still here.

I’m starting to feel stuck. Like, really stuck. Trapped in Keene, which has just been inundated with 18 year old freshmen, the rest of the young and the restless due in today and tomorrow. I remember, four years ago, I was getting ready to move to Boston. The place I had convinced myself was where I needed to be. And now, I’m back in Southern New Hampshire, where I swore I’d never be.

I saw four people I went to high school with this weekend. Blech. It’s weird. You see them, they see you, you both pretend you didn’t see the other. I told Nick I need a change. A new location, a new job. Anything to get me out of this funk.

I think I’m pissed off because of what happened yesterday. Nick and I were supposed to go to Boston, but it poured all day and we never made it down, instead driving into Vermont, then down into Mass. Wasting gas, listening to music, talking about stuff that we can’t change. We got home and everything just seemed to fall apart. The day started good and took a giant, flailing bellyflop nosedive towards sucky at about 6 o’clock. We were supposed to go to this party that these people Neil and Mikey know where throwing. Supposed to be this huge bash with a band and mass amounts of alcohol. Sounded cool enough, I wanted to go.

Yes, don’t all gasp at once. I wanted to go. Screw you.

Neil had to work until 1130pm and by 8 o’clock, Nick, Mikey and I were at each other’s throat.

All over a silly cigarette.

Call it a power trip. Call it teasing. Call it fooling around. Call it screwing with the stoned boy.

It was all in good fun.

It wouldn’t be Saturday night unless someone stormed out in a fit of rage. Like clockwork. Could’ve been me, could’ve been Mikey, is usually Neil. Last night, it was Nick.

All over a silly cigarette.

Mikey drove him home and came back and told me to hurry up and get ready. I hadn’t counted on not waiting for Neil and told him that. He proposed we go grocery shopping. I proposed I take a nap-ola on the couch. Mikey got mad and went in his room. I watched “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”, waiting for Neil and Nick to get home. Mikey fell asleep. I cracked open a beer at eleven because I was losing my buzz and drank it in five minutes. I laid down on the couch because I was dizzy. Nick and Neil came home and Nick jumped down my throat because I looked up at him blearily. Accused me of being tired and not wanting to go.

I did want to go. I know no one believes me.

I started putting my shoes on. Nick made some comment about the movie. I snapped at him. I hate when he does that, walks in and instantly expects the TV to go off, because he obviously has something important to say. He snapped back. I told him to get over it. He told me I was power tripping. I told them Mikey was asleep. Neil got pissed off. Nick got more pissed off.

Supposedly, this party is pretty up there in the Keene/Swanzey social calendar. You have to be invited, blah blah blah.

So, Mikey is asleep. Mikey is the one who was invited. We’re obviously not going to show up without Mikey. HE is the invitation. It’s rude and weird to just show up, without Mikey. We were his guests.

Nick didn’t understand why we couldn’t just show up. He yelled at me. I yelled back. Neil got more pissed off.

I suggested they wake Mikey up. No one would. Neil was too busy huffing about the apartment and they both stormed downstairs and had a cigarette. I went into Mikey’s room and woke him up, explained the situation. He fell asleep as I was talking to him. Neil and Nick came back in and told me they were going to do a drive by and if there were something going on, they’d stop. I was now more than tipsy and wished them well. Mikey snored.

They returned a half an hour later. There didn’t appear to be a party. The house had been dark. No cars. Nothing. Nick left. Neil was pissed off and had a few beers. By the time I finished my shower, he was high as a kite. We sat and watched OZ on HBO and ate Altoid Tangerine sours. Great show.

All that over a party that never really happened. All that for a party we wouldn’t have been able to go to even if we were all happy shiny people, singing and hugging our way to Swanzey.

That, folks, is the joy of our friendships. We never all agree on anything. Movies, food, music, TV, clothes, boys, furniture, drugs, abortion, religion, politics, friends, enemies, cats. That’s the beauty of it. We thrive on our differences. It’s why we’re such good friends. We learn to love everything about each other, even though all of us like our own way. Even though each of us is our own best friends. Through power trips and catty laughter, Sunday night QAF is what we live for. Not because of the TV show, but because we get together on Sundays. Because we do it together. Because we all need each other. We’re a family. Because we’re all best friends.

And one silly little cigarette isn’t going to change that.

Because you are all the reason I’m glad I came back.


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Yes, I said feck.

It’s feckin’ hot.

So hot I’m thinking about getting back in the pool all over again.

Nothing much to report from the home front. Been too hot to do much of anything these days. Working too much (which is surprising for me during the summer because we’re really not that busy. I think I go in early because of the AC.) Mikey and I hung out all yesterday afternoon after I got out of work and met up with Brandon and Amy and their cutie-patootie little munchkin, Katie. Hung at their house from like 6pm until 230am-ish in the morning. Smoked too much and laid on my back in the middle of their backyard, looking up at the stars, remembering about the supposed meteoroid that we should be able to see.

We’re having problems with the house. Not with Neil, Mikey and I because, usually, we get along famously. I mean, they ARE my best friends and all and I love both of them like my family. It’s the people under the stairs, as I usually refer to Lora and Pete when they’re not around. I know, I know, that’s mean and I’ve trying to be really, really good lately. You know, think good things, say good things. But, to tell you the truth, it’s a little trying. Lora is constantly upstairs, even though she does have an eight month old child, whom she leaves downstairs, alone, in his crib for hours on end without a baby monitor. It make me nervous. Lora is extremely bored and doesn’t have much to do during the day, which she isn’t used to because she used to be full-time student and is really, really intelligent. Then, whoops, baby, marriage. I do feel for her. It’s just that…well, she’s super hypercritical of Mikey, Neil…whomever happens to be in the room and incredibly competitive…about silly stuff. Like whether or not she has the better TV, or more Xbox games…you get the point. Stuff that shouldn’t and doesn’t matter. Drive me nuts. And she’s been driving Mikey and Neil to the point that they want to kill her or at least maim her. And I feel bad because I invited Lora to go to Costa Rica with me in December because my sister has finals and can’t come and I need someone to go with me and Neil and Mikey and Nick can’t pay. She totally rubbed it in their faces, said that they were “too gay” and that I needed a “positive straight female influence”.


No offense, but I have plenty of “positive straight female influence” at work. And I love my little gaggle of boys. They’re my heart and, frankly, they’re the best friends I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t give them up for anything the world. They’re not “too gay”. They’re Neil, Mikey and Nick and that’s that. If they were too gay, I would have left a long, long time ago. She blamed their gayness (their Guatamalaness, Mikey…yay, BIRDCAGE!) for the fact I don’t like going out to bars and clubs, like I’m ashamed of them which is simply bullshit. That they’re the reason I don’t have a boyfriend. Neil and Mikey know this and it makes me feel better that they do. But still. She should never ever have said something that nasty to them…they’re her friends too! She’s known Mikey longer than she’s known me. All of sudden, it’s a big competition over me. And I’m not flattered. Not in the least.

So, besides badmouthing my friends and starting shit, she also is in our apartment ALL THE TIME. From the time I get home at work until I go to bed. And I don’t mind her being there because our apartment is a little spooky at night but there are some nights when I do just want to be alone and watch Family Double Dare and eat frozen blueberries out of the bag. I’m a weirdo, I know. I’m sorry. Mikey and Neil would like to have a little privacy too. We never go down to their apartment and we always knock, which they do not do. It was cute for Pete to come all the way into the apartment and knock on the living room wall to announce his presence for about two seconds. Now, it’s annoying. And intrusive. I know his parents own the house, but we pay rent just the same.

So, exactly how do you say (tactfully) “Love you guys, but we really need our own time, could you please stop coming upstairs all the time and by the way…stop ragging on my friends!?” I think I came up with something (I was hella stoned so bear with me). Mikey works at the Best Western in Keene, so I asked him to steal two “DO NOT DISTURB” signs that go on the doorknob. I’ll give one to them and keep one for us and say “Love you guys, but we really need our own time. I’m going to put the sign on the doorknob and if it says “DO NOT DISTURB”, just turn around and go back downstairs. If it says “MAID PLEASE MAKE UP ROOM”, feel free to knock and wait for an answer before you enter. We’ll extend the same courtesy to you.” Sound ok? Fair enough? Let’s hope so.

‘Cuz I’m kind of scared of Lora.

My brother’s off to college next weekend, and I bought him a Playstation controller as a present since he only has two and one is gimpy (yet he doesn’t tell you this until you’re getting your ass royally kicked in middle of Goldeneye. Nice kid.). I talked to my best girlfriend from high school (coincidentally also named Jen, like myself and, coincidentally also named Jennifer Lynn (I only have one ‘n’ in Lyn, but work with me. The used to call us Jen2(squared) in high school.) and she’s home for the day so I invited her over. Haven’t seen her since January, so I’m pretty excited and hope she shows. Thank God we cleaned the apartment this morning. Hopefully, Mikey Day at the apartment (I’m at my ‘rent’s and Neil’s working) didn’t get too out of hand.

Anyway…at least Adult Swim is on tonight…

I *heart* the Brak Show.

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I like swim at about six o’clock in the evening on Sundays. The sun is finally dipping below the stone wall that edges my parents property, making the land on the other side look like it’s on fire…then just glows below the surface, making everything yellow and gold. The heat finally breaks about this time. I think it’s silly to swim in the heat of the afternoon, because by this time of the day, you’re still sweaty. I’m the only one who swims at this time. My mom sits in the pool from dawn until dusk on her inflatable chair, reading the latest book that’s replaced whatever Oprah used to decree. My father is quickly falling asleep in his chair and my brother and sister are off with their significant others.

Leaving me to the pool.

The water cools off a lot when there’s no sun hitting it, so it’s cold and silky, soft to the touch. You have to get in quick to get used to the chill but once you dive under, your whole body sings. I swim over to the side and hold on, looking over the edge at Mount Monadnock sitting majestically in the distance, or out at the old barn, or just into space, listening to the crickets sing in the grass as the sun dips even lower.

My life is changing.

I can feel it as well as I can feel the keys on the keyboard in front of me. I can hear the whispers of change as well as I can hear the lyrics of Pete Yorn’s “Lose You”, a rolling, rumbling, beautiful, husky piece of music that makes me want to lay in the grass of a field and stare into the sun. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel sad. It makes me feel real. Music has validated my emotions over the past couple of days. It clears my head.

Work has been hard but it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just a job and that’s that. Home situation has skyrocketed and plummeted and I just strap myself in and enjoy the rollercoaster ride. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror and see this little smile that has rested on my lips. I’m not completely happy. But today I feel like I could very well be close. Honesty has been my savior, words come rolling out of my mouth before I can stop them and go tripping about the room with relief of finally being said. I can just close my eyes and say “I think that…”, “I feel like…”, “I am…”

No thanks to a rather strange weekend.

I don’t know what I want to say about it, other than I thought, for a split second, that I should go back to the doctor. Go back on meds. Panic attack Friday night, sitting in my car outside the restaurant that I was meeting my family at for my sister’s Going Away Dinner. Couldn’t breath, felt like I was going to be sick. Scared for my life. Couldn’t get out of the car.

I don’t know what it is. I know what doctors say it is. I know what the commercials on TV say. I can’t take those pills again. I can’t drop back into it again. Feeling numb. I feel like I’ve finally woken up. But have I really? Is this my reality? Not being able to enjoy a dinner out because I can’t move? Is the reality Zoloft again? Or whatever else they can shove down my throat? Is it necessary? Is it all in my head?

“Just float…”

Floating is hard. I can’t hold my breath for that long anymore.

But happiness is just an inch away, hiding behind the screen, waiting for me to find it, pick it up and eat it all up. I feel like I could be happy. Feel like life suddenly makes blinding sense.

My sister left for college today. I’m going to miss her. A lot.

“I’m taking a ride off to one side, it’s a personal thing…Where? When I can’t stand up in this cage I’m not regretting.

I don’t need a better thing, I’d settle for less, it’s another thing for me, I just have to wander through this world alone.

Stop before you fall into the hold that I have dug here, and rest even though you are starting to feel the way I used to, I don’t need a better thing (just to sound confused). Don’t talk about everyone, I am not amused by you.

I’m gonna lose you.

Yeah, I’m gonna lose you, if I’m gonna lose you, I’m gonna lose you.

Yeah I’m gonna lose you, if I’m gonna lose you, I’m gonna lose you.

I’ll lose you now for good.”

-Pete Yorn, “Lose You”, musicforthemorningafter

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I just wanted to share this with everyone, as I work with these little girls’ cousin. It’s very sad.

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So I’ve updated. A lot.

And maybe next Sunday I’ll have something to say.

(Hey, Dae, I’m glad you’re okay.)

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