Friday, June 18, 2004

You my have noticed my tendency to describe attractive women as "ghostlike." Well, there you go. I have ghost-philia. I can't get over the idea that I could pass through this girl if she so decided to disperse her ethereal particles. I could bottle her up and never let her go. Oh yeah.

No, no, that's just nonsense. I have decided: I _do_ want a boy, but not some big, though man with a chainsaw and a gruff voice who says, "hey? Where's my woman!" ... Actually, on second thought, maybe I do, but as long as he promises to find new and interesting ways to use his chainsaw.

The reason I decided to go on my blog and write nonsense is because I am not feeling well. On the way home on the bus I kept falling in and out of sleep. I feel like I am halfway existing. Maybe this explains the ghost thing; I am a ghost myself, floating throughout the universe in search of an earthbound vessel.

One new thing I learned is not to say I'm okay when I'm not. About a year ago I started saying, "no, I'm not okay" when somebody asked me how I am (somebody who is a friend of mine) and I am not actually okay. The problem is, most of the time I'm not okay, there's always something mmissing and I can never quite find it, but I suppose that's just how life is, dammit.

I dream of settling down someday, and I love to imagine living in a cottage somewhere and writing novels and playing with my lovely children at the church picnic inbetween writing trashy romance novels, but the truth is I'm just a teenager, and maybe I ought to make do with what I have instead of keep imagining what things would be like if I had more. After all, I have myself, and that's what everybody starts with.

You know what the problem is? I canot get along with myself. True. I used to go to yoga but I HATED it (as I explained to my mentor today) because my inner dialogue (not monologue, fucking dialogue) constantly rambles no matter how hard I try to focus on my pose or breath away the worries (are your worries adequately whisked, The Sneak?). So now, I just hate being alone with myself, because there is no way to reconcile myself and myself on key points such as what we will do tomorrow or why it is that we are so freaking lonely even though we perpetually drive each other nuts. Myself and myself need some serious relationship counseling, people.

I think I'll just go on a nice beach trip with myself, and sit on the dock and stare at the setting sun, with my arm around myself, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as I drift off to sleep in my arms...

Perfect. That'll work. I will call you back when myself and I are on speaking terms again.


(Myself and Myself Incorporated: Reconciling Your Two Halves since 1837)
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