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Aug. 23rd, 2001 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raybearToday I spent 20 minutes in the bathroom to make me look unrecognizable to myself.
And it worked. I just caught my reflection, and I was a foreign body.
It's been 48 hours and no word. Hrmph.
My boss said I was looking pale. Maybe I can go back home.
Last night I spend an hour talking to Melanie's friend Karen. Which was unexpected. But we had a nice chat, and I think made each other feel better and helped pass the time. I spent all of yesterday either sleeping or watching tv. Except for the one outing to the grocery store where I got scoped by LOTS of 30ish and 40ish women. There weren't many guys shopping at 11:30am on a Wednesday -- in fact I only saw one other guy under the age of 50 there. And he was blatantly gay. I'm only mildly gay. So yes, that was fun and flattering.
Last night I slept for 8 hours. Yet I'm still yawning.
I'm wicked nervous and anxious about this weekend. Not hearing from her is causing my imagination to spiral out of control. Wait. Stop. Rewind. I am causing myself to spiral out of control, though my motivation is not hearing from her and not having a way to reach her easily. Such a worrier, that Raymond. But on a scale of overreacting, I'm on the low-end.
I hope she'll call me from the road soon. I hope she's doing okay. I don't like to think about her being unhappy, though I know she's having a hard time. I hope I can calm the fuck down and not make this the emotional apocalpyse. It doesn't take much. Sometimes just seeing a fcked up movie does it for me.
On Tuesday night my friend Co___ said "you're so positive and calm. you're the sanest of all my friends." Damn, I'm a good actor. Though the positive and calm thing is a deliberate method of acting a certain way to bring about the emotional state. And it works sometimes. I shape my own mental health as best I can. No one else will. Or they will, but in a horribly fcked up way I prefer to avoid. I'd like to keep my agency, thanks.
So I'm just going to pretend that she hasn't left Vermont yet and won't until tomorrow or possibly Saturday, that way when she calls from a motel tonight, I'll be pleasantly surprised and relieved. And this evening I will spend time with two great guys, then go to a bar to bid farewell to dear, wonderful, longtime friends who are moving to Seattle, and I'll possibly flirt shamelessly with an attractive woman, and all these distractions will make me feel real and whole and recognizable. Right now I don't know who I am at all.
And I'm still stuck on the Kathy Buckley special from PBS last night.
And it worked. I just caught my reflection, and I was a foreign body.
It's been 48 hours and no word. Hrmph.
My boss said I was looking pale. Maybe I can go back home.
Last night I spend an hour talking to Melanie's friend Karen. Which was unexpected. But we had a nice chat, and I think made each other feel better and helped pass the time. I spent all of yesterday either sleeping or watching tv. Except for the one outing to the grocery store where I got scoped by LOTS of 30ish and 40ish women. There weren't many guys shopping at 11:30am on a Wednesday -- in fact I only saw one other guy under the age of 50 there. And he was blatantly gay. I'm only mildly gay. So yes, that was fun and flattering.
Last night I slept for 8 hours. Yet I'm still yawning.
I'm wicked nervous and anxious about this weekend. Not hearing from her is causing my imagination to spiral out of control. Wait. Stop. Rewind. I am causing myself to spiral out of control, though my motivation is not hearing from her and not having a way to reach her easily. Such a worrier, that Raymond. But on a scale of overreacting, I'm on the low-end.
I hope she'll call me from the road soon. I hope she's doing okay. I don't like to think about her being unhappy, though I know she's having a hard time. I hope I can calm the fuck down and not make this the emotional apocalpyse. It doesn't take much. Sometimes just seeing a fcked up movie does it for me.
On Tuesday night my friend Co___ said "you're so positive and calm. you're the sanest of all my friends." Damn, I'm a good actor. Though the positive and calm thing is a deliberate method of acting a certain way to bring about the emotional state. And it works sometimes. I shape my own mental health as best I can. No one else will. Or they will, but in a horribly fcked up way I prefer to avoid. I'd like to keep my agency, thanks.
So I'm just going to pretend that she hasn't left Vermont yet and won't until tomorrow or possibly Saturday, that way when she calls from a motel tonight, I'll be pleasantly surprised and relieved. And this evening I will spend time with two great guys, then go to a bar to bid farewell to dear, wonderful, longtime friends who are moving to Seattle, and I'll possibly flirt shamelessly with an attractive woman, and all these distractions will make me feel real and whole and recognizable. Right now I don't know who I am at all.
And I'm still stuck on the Kathy Buckley special from PBS last night.
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!
Date: 2001-08-23 01:44 pm (UTC)rids
Re: !
Date: 2001-08-23 01:51 pm (UTC)