my_window_seat: (Yuskavage's Girl)
Before calling, I am armed with important facts
Necessary information
Scripted humor

As soon as the ringing is interrupted with your voice
All my careful constructions flatline
Extemporaneous ideas jostle for attention

You take me as I am
Impromptu
Uncensored

Our every conversation is performance art
without the spectators

You are the ladder angled up against
my fourth wall
my_window_seat: (Default)
Those that we love
we must also hate a little
don't lie and tell me that it isn't so

To allow you to love me
is to let you take pieces
of me home with you

I must trust you, to let you love me

I have to hate you for this
because I have to let go of myself in pieces

You may hate me too, then
for demanding of you
a slice, a souvenir

These fragments of you I stitch about myself
the ant-thin lines of cross-hatched seams
are what binds the missing
parts of me to the stolen
bits of you

We make a cobbled tapestry
defined by scars

If this were true
I'd never look in mirrors
afraid that what we'd made would
shamble into view

But I'm lying
I must tell you that this isn't so

I've learned very little and this
is little, too

The best parts of me are borrowed
from you
my_window_seat: (Default)
The upside of last week's descent into hell?

I do believe I may have lost nearly five pounds.

Of course, not having a scale, this is purely speculative - but still. :: eyes an apparently slightly receeded waistline ::

NOTE TO THE DIETIES: This is NOT a suggestion to motivate me to further weight loss in this manner. Please cease and desist from hurling unwelcome distractions in my path kthnxbuhbye.
my_window_seat: (Average Day)
Just finished first of two take-home midterms. What was supposed to be a series of short essay questions and one complete essay turned into a tome weighing in at 15 pages. When I called ~R~ for some last-minute help filling in a nine-month gap in the French Revolution between 1790 and 1791 with the change-over from the National Assembly to - er, whaever damn part that came next - he told me I was nuts, and to wrap the damn thing up and call it good. The two hour conversation that followed was the closest thing to a social life I've had all semester.

Took another hour of fine tuning, but Mid-term the First is printed and by god, it is finished.

Now, one more take-home mid-term to crank out, a math mid-term day after tomorrow, and a Spanish presentation tomorrow night.
my_window_seat: (Submit to the Cute)
I did homework until 11pm, and then figured it was TIME FOR MY COOKIE.

~R~ called me back and I introduced him to the comic sideshow that is Nikolaus A. Pacione*. Hey, he said he was bored and needed amusement. This is what happens when you take two braindead students and add phones and the internets. Discussion of abnormal psychology and the eventual theory that Nicky Teh Goth is really 3 people with a finely-tuned sense of humor and a text-generating program ensued.

And I have another PICTURE to add to the bulletin board.

Oh, my ears and whiskers.

MEEP!

* For the oh, one or two people who have not yet experienced Nicky Teh Goth, you have only to enter his full name in Google to find page upon page upon PAGE of closeted homoerotic profanity and THE WORST OMIGOTH WRITING EVAR for hours of fun. Do not send me your subsequent therapy bills, I have enough of my own.
my_window_seat: (Yuskavage's Girl)
Reading Socrates [and resisting the urge to call ~R~ back per his request until I'm DONE WITH MY HOMEWORK....!] is driving me nuts.

However, I will forgive the over-hyped apologist for absolutism windbag that is Socrates purely on the merits of this phrase:

How singular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be thought to be the opposite of it; for they never come to a man together, and yet he who pursues either of them is generally compelled to take the other. They are two, and yet they grow together out of one head or stem; and I can not help but thinking that if Aesop had noticed them, he would have made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and when he could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the reason why when one comes the other follows...

::sighs::

Yeah. I get that.
my_window_seat: (Yuskavage's Girl)
Very much potential catastrophic badness looming on my horizon - but I'm just going to try to take one step at a time and start the process of exploring the options available to me. No sense in going into detail at this juncture. It may all be smoke in the wind. But - no. Smoke, fire. The two always come together. But right now, just preparing for potentials and seeing what there is to see.

No, this has nothing to do with my little paranoid apocalypse fantasies. Would that it did.

But - just got off the phone with ~R~.

Comparitively, one of our shorter conversations - only 3 or 4 hours. And this time, I was the one who closed it because I'm getting tired.

He helped me sort some of my options out - but more importantly, just talking to him was the air I needed to breathe. Just being able to tear the world apart and examine it like a puzzle. Being able to talk about who we are and who we've been and who we might be - and to remember who we once were to each other - and most importantly, who we are now.

Not that I know what that is. Other than, the fact that we still know each other - it's one of the solid proofs of miracles that I have to know exists.

And it does.

And I got to tell him, in the kind of way I wanted to - in an honest and completely unweird way - that there very literally isn't a day that goes by - okay, so maybe there's the odd day occassionaly, but it's pretty rare - that I don't think of him in one way or another. Not because he's perfect or because I have him on some kind of pedestal - but just because.

It was nice to be able to say that, and know that it was heard in the way that it's intended. And to have the conversation continue to flow normally after that.

Because there it is - why he'll always be in my mind and in my heart. Because there's something about him in every part of my mind and my heart - and because he accepts that for what it is.

And he can always make me laugh. At myself, at everything around me - and because I know that he understands what it's like to look down as far as you can and see nothing - and to keep on going anyway.

I got to tell him quite a bit of stuff tonight, and it was good - it just felt like conversation rather than some kind of heavily-weighted declaration type stuff. And even though it doesn't change anything - I'm glad I got to say it. And that again - that it was just a part of everything else. Talk of politics and world events, the appalling lack of creativity in the music industrial complex, school, family and friends - it was all just - things to talk about.

I can't hang onto him. He's a breeze that passes through every now and then.

I was going to say that he's like a season, and that every revolution of the earth brings part of him back to me.

I don't know that that's true. The day he settles down and gets married, there's another bridge that he goes across that I can't follow him on.

Right now, that doesn't matter, and thinking about that day isn't something that I want or need to process right now.

Right now, I know that he is, and that's enough.

It'll never be enough. But it beats a sharp stick in the eye.

I don't know what my mood is right now. Probably equal parts denial and satisfaction. A real internal dissonance.

I still have his voice in my ears, and for now, that's enough.
my_window_seat: (Default)
Just got an e-mail from ~R~.

Nothing fancy; just a few sentences - but yes, it has officially turned me into a 14-year-old for the next few hours.

In other news:

Grog must do homework.

Grog want SMASH homework.

Grog do homework anyway.

Bah.
my_window_seat: (Yuskavage's Girl)
I miss you.
my_window_seat: (Default)
Because I'm sick of being (still...) weepy and stupid, I figure I'm just gonna write a letter and maybe that will help get this out of my system sooner.

And because I figure it's better to have a record of the stupid things that I do for future reference - you know, so I actually know why people are avoiding me instead of constantly wondering due to an early-alzheimer's-like memory -

Herein lies the idiocy which shall be given to the care of the post office tonight. )

Meep.

[EDIT: I take it back. I think I'll just file this bit of unsolicited if fairly harmless bit of stupidity away in a drawer. Sanity SHALL prevail!]
my_window_seat: (Default)
Following is the kind of thought that will doubtless leave you wanting to smack me upside the head with the stop-whinging-stick - but this is my whinging space, after all.

If there comes a time that I actually do end up making something worthwhile out of my life, as daft as it sounds, at least a significant portion of my motivation to do so will have been because of ~R~, whether he is in my life at that point or not.

For a couple of reasons.

One, because I've always wanted to feel like I was worthy compared to him somehow. Intellectually, goal-wise, dream-wise, talent-wise. I don't even bother to compete on the cosmetic-correctness scale, but I've always figured the other stuff lasts longer, anyway. Never quite have met those standards in my own eyes, but that's my low-self-esteem problem, not anyone else's.

And two, because it's the only way I can get out of my head long enough to not go completely barking mad. To be fully engaged and involved in working with people and doing something that isn't about me. Something creative, that is. Mindless vapid work doesn't work.

See, for the few hours that I was at ABHS today, either working with the kids or just observing someone else working with them; taking them on myself or taking mental notes on what I did and didn't like in another person's teaching style -

During those few hours, I didn't think about ~R~ at all.

See - so it really has very little to do with altruism and wanting to make the world a better place.

It's really just about me wanting to stop the voices in my head.

Some people drink, some take drugs - I read, or do art or teach, or all of the above at the same time when I can. Wait - I didn't mean I drink, drug and teach and do art and - oh nevermind....
my_window_seat: (Default)
Well that was pretty lame and the reward was commensurate.

Bright idea: Excuse to call ~R~ - hey, he's the only other 3-D artist I know, so I'll hit him up for any tips he might have for my demo tomorrow.

Finally get through (busy line), and I get his mom. Who is a whole lot nicer to me than she ever was before. Go figure.

She says ~R~ says he'll call me back.

Not.

It's was a stupid thing to do, but maybe it's what I needed to do to make this whole bouncing-back thing go a little faster.

I just needed the reminder: I'm an occasional distraction in his otherwise busy world.

So, yeah. Stupid thing to do. But stupid is my medium.

Anyway, now I can skip the prolonged pining period and go straight to miserable, followed by intermittent twinges and eventually settling into nonchalance.

'Ray, me.

Maybe next time - there won't be a next time. As in, I won't even have to go through the brief but incredibly painful reemergence of stuff that is better left in the realm of get-over-it-already.

Shit.

The phone is ringing...
my_window_seat: (Default)
I'm pretty sure I'm going to leave work early today and head home. I can't get out of my head. Being at work where there's nothing to occupy my brain really isn't where I need to be right now.

And I know the world can't come to a crashing halt just because I have the emotional maturity of a teenager.

I fucking well get that.

Justifiable excuse: I need to get ready for the class I'm teaching tomorrow; sculpture demo thing for one of Vashti's classes. I've got a rough idea of what I want to do; short-short lecture on art history concerning sculpture, i.e., additive vs. subtractive mediums, materials, methods, tools, how to make armatures, yadda-yadda - then just go through the steps for the stuff I mainly work with, which is some scary homemade stuff, let me tell you. And just give them the idea that, while technique is important, the whole getting out there and just making shit up is really what it's all about.

Anyway, since I'm getting tired of just sitting at work leaking out of my eyeholes, I'd rather be somewhere doing something that means something to me. I'll give it a couple more hours, then I'm going to blow this popsicle stand, crank up the stereo at home, fuck with art supplies - bleach my brain the only way I know how.

I can do this. I really can do this. I've done it before. It'll be over again soon.
my_window_seat: (Default)
Date: Fri, 22 Apr 2005 04:09:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: "~D~" <*****@yahoo.com>
Subject: Testing...testing...Is this thing on? ::tap tap::
To: ****@yahoo.com


Heh-heh.

Just wanted to say thanks for calling; it was like
getting the ultimate Scooby Snack for finishing this
horror show of a semester. Good timing, that.

And don't be a stranger - our conversations will
always be my favorite 'crack'. :)

~D~


Sent on Friday; no word back, no even to say 'yeah, that was cool, talk to you again sometime.'

See, I know better than to put him on a pedestal or try to make anything into anything else. Out of sight, out of mind.

It will be over again soon.

It will be over again soon.

I'll get past this again and it will be over again soon.
my_window_seat: (Default)
It hurts.

Oh Jesus God it hurts.

You know what it's like sometimes when you feel a certain way, but you're doing your best not to give in to it, you're doing your best to keep all the pieces in place and this is not so bad, I can do this, it's going to be okay again eventually, it's really okay I can do this -

And then something completely unconnected finds its way into your carefully erected facade.

Someone gets how you feel, and says it. Not to you, because they're not talking to you, they're talking to themselves, and there's something in their story somewhere that matches a page in yours. Different words, same tune.

Because they're not saying it in words.

Because it's music. The one thing that speaks all languages.

A friend of mine wrote a piece of music that I heard this week. I loved it the first time I heard it, but right at this particular moment, I think maybe I really finally got it.

This time I can actually feel it.

Or I'm really just imagining things, and it's just me playing my own heart out, and right now, this piece of music is just resonating with me because it's just how I need to feel.

But it's a beautiful piece of music.

So beautiful that I feel like someone just stuck their fingers in my ribcage and pulled it apart and showed me my own heart.

My chest is a red and screaming hole right now.

That's a beautiful fucking image, isn't it.

I don't mean to do a disservice to the artist.

It's just my way of saying, damn you.

Damn you for knowing exactly how I feel right now.

[livejournal.com profile] feralnerd wrote this. And hopefully he'll understand that all this blathering is just my way of saying, you have a real gift.

A gift for playing the secrets of the human heart.
my_window_seat: (Default)
See, what you're never going to get, is that you are the one person who's ever, really completed me. The one person that, no matter what, always accpted me for who I was. With everything that was wrong with me, you never turned away.

But that's wrong, isn't it?

We're thousands of miles and years apart, and we didn't make it, did we, you and I.

How is it then that I still feel like you complete me?

How is it, and why, and why is it that no matter how much it hurts, why, even though it means I'll have nothing more than shreds left of my heart in my hands to knead back into the shape of a beating organ again every time I talk to you, why is it that it's the only time I ever feel truly whole?

You always end up telling me that you think that Stewart was my one true love, but what do you know?

You always forget, you were the one who really knew me.

Stewart loved something he made up in his own mind. He loved the plaything he created, and for a while, I lived in his world.

What you always forget is that you came later, and when I was with you, it was our world we lived in.

It was too small to survive in, but oh, what a beautiful world it was.

And now that I've seen how much bigger the rest of the world is, now that I understand how much there is to see, and how much of it I want to see through your eyes -

God, it feels so big.

And I feel so lost, knowing that I'll never get from where I am to where you are in it.
my_window_seat: (Default)
Of course now, the hard part is -

Now come the withdrawls.

5 hours of bliss, to be followed by several weeks to several months worth of intermittent, um, not-bliss. The constant desire to call again, call again, just saw/heard/thought of this thing I wanted to tell you about, yadda-yadda - no, musn't call twice a week, even every other week - let it go, let it ride, let it die back down again. Don't make it into what it won't ever be again. Just be glad for what you have, and don't try to make it into what it isn't. And don't lose sight of what it still is.

This too shall pass.

It always does.

There was a time I didn't think I could get through it.

I know better now.

Now at least, I know what to expect.

And now at least, I can honestly say -

I still know that it was worth it.

No matter what it always costs me, it's always worth it.

...

Of course, I may need to be reminded of that from time to time over the next month or so....
my_window_seat: (Default)
Okay, so this funny little squidgy dance that I'm doing that you can't see, and that you should be thanking the GODS you can't see because it's probably pretty grotesque to see a grown woman transformed into a 14 year old like this -

Is because ~R~ just called me.

Squuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Yup.

And after, oooohhhh.......::looks at clock:: five hours, we just got off the phone.

::sigh::

I don't know, but I think he's probably the one person in the world who can make my entire body smile.

I don't know what it is, but for as long as I live, I'm going to be so grateful that there's something about me that really isn't irretrievably fucked up - because through it all, we've managed to stay friends.

Friends at a distance. Friends who don't talk to each other very often.

But the kind of friends that haven't forgotten how much we just genuinely like each other as people.

The old jokes are still as funny. But what's even better, better by far, is that now, we have the entire world to talk about.

Not that there won't always be something strangely magical as the tiny little universe that we managed, too briefly, to create together. Because every time we talk, we always seem to get around to taking it out, dusting it off, and shaking it up again just to see all the pretty glittery bits float around in it again. Auld Lang Syne. And from this distance - it's still hasn't lost it's sparkle.

But now we can include the rest of the world in our conversations. We can talk about politics and current events and social trends and what we're both doing in school - and because we're no longer trying so hard to make sure that we're pleasing each other, maintaining a specific persona or balancing one mood against each other and trying to make them fit -

Without that pressure, it seems to just naturally happen all by itself.

The realistic mind points out - well, duh - you don't talk all the time, so it's not like it's that hard to stay 'fresh' when there are so many gaps in between.

Yeah, well - shaddup. Being happy here.

And ::squidgy happy thing again:: just as we were finally dragging ourselves off the phone, he rminded me to "call, won't you? Damn it!" When I told him I actually had tried on several occasions but had always gotten a busy signal, he seemed really pleased. Turns out the DSL at his house has been FUBAR'ed for over six months, and since his tech-fu brother moved out, no one's bothered to get it worked out, so his dial-up has kept the line busy all the time. But anyway, he seemed really pleased to know that I'd tried; he said something like he thought I just had lost interest in talking to him or something.

Yeah. As if.

So, anyway.

Me is the happiest of happy peoples right now.

All is well with the world.

G'night. :)
my_window_seat: (Default)
Oooooooookay.

Too tired to adequately express the bizarreness of this phenomenon, but -

Just got off the phone with ~R~.

And he's the one who called me.

Whuh?

I think this must be a sign of the Apocalypse.

Talked about politics and the state of the species Homo Sapiens Sapiens - he's a major champion of genetic engineering. Career goal - to become God. Or at the very least, immortal.

Anyway - go fucking figure. He called me.

And I think I forgot to mention - yeah, he's the one I stayed up literally all night talking to on Election Night. A 5 or 6 hour conversation.

Anyway.

Looks like, at long last, at least for the time being, for as long as it lasts -

We're friends.

For reals.

Assuming of course that I didn't bore him so much that it never happens again. I am tired and cranky tonight. Don't think I held up my end of the conversation as well as I would have liked.

There's me rating my performance. Bah.

How funny, though.

Wacky.

Life occasionally throws you a curve ball that doesn't bounce out of the mitt and break your nose. Life, in fact, sometimes lobs you a nice pop-up fly, and even gives you enough time to run up under and catch it.

Neat.

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