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| The Divine Ms Emo, circa 1996 |
Paul's was hilarious; I'm sure mine won't be, but humor me. Here goes nothing... literally...
1 January, 1996
It is now a new year. For the first year since I can't even remember when, I spent new year's alone. Darn. Why not bring in 96 with the one I love best?
That Darn was dripping with sarcasm. I've always been a loner and seen people as generally expendable, but at this point the realization was new to me. I decided to pretend I liked it, even though I didn't.
So at midnight I kept my tradition of a "first song" which was Lenny's "Heaven Help." Good song, if nothing else.
I have no recollection of this song at all. Or of this supposed tradition. Apparently both were very meaningful to me at age 19.
Then I did my first tarot reading of 96,
Dude, seriously? Tarot? I guess this was during the ridiculous new age phase we all went through at some point in the 90s.
and watched "Harold and Maude." First flick should be the best, right?
I believed that having Harold and Maude as my favorite movie meant that I was very dark and mysterious. I was neither.
Before that, I finished my painting and stuff so I started with a complete room.
Oh, so maybe all of this is just the paint fumes talking...
I can't help wishing I wasn't living in it, though. I've been so on edge, and it's probably because I totally regret not going back to Seattle.
I was living with my parents, going to junior college after dropping out of Cornish, and had been planning to transfer to UW in January. Then when I got my acceptance letter, I arbitrarily decided not to go. If I recall, there was a boy involved in this sudden change of heart... although I don't remember who it was or how long we dated. Probably a matter of seconds.
I'm not happy here anymore. Maybe I'll just never let myself be happy for more than 5 minutes no matter where I am. Whatever. Nothing much I can do about it now.
Aside from that, I've been in a pretty damn good mood since midnight, though.
Bipolar much?
I started the year off right, and I can't help feeling like this year might be better than the last few. I don't know, it's just this feeling, sort of like hopeless optimism. Weird. I'm almost looking forward to my 20th year on this planet.
Yeah. Well. Nothing good came out of 1996. Especially since that's when I met my ex-husband.
7 March, 1996
I hate sports. You like them? Fine, go play, and leave me alone. I don't want to hear about it, and I especially don't want to watch.
I loved watching football as a kid, and playing it as a young teen. I bet I can still throw a nice spiral pass from all that practice with my friend Stacy back then. At some point in high school I had to be alternative and hate the jocks, so I suppressed my love of sports. This writing was for me alone, so who was I trying to fool? It's clearly just latent sports-lover sportsaphobia.
The worst is sports on TV. Guys too fat and lazy to play themselves, sitting at home watching other people have fun. Hurrah.
Now that I'm 35? Yep. Guilty.
The only sport I can watch on TV is golf, because it's the most utterly pointless. Ooh... let's go watch oddly dressed men walk on a perfect lawn in the backyard of a place that costs more money than I'll ever have, for one month's membership!
Class warfare from the working class girl whose parents made sure she never wanted for anything. Tres, TRES deep.
No! Let's stay home and watch it on TV instead! Yeah!
Turn on any sport in the world, take me to the game, whatever -- I'll be bored within 5 minutes.
Lies. I avoided watching sports for more than 5 minutes because I knew it would suck me in if I did.
Put golf on TV and I can watch it for an hour.
Only because I fell asleep immediately from the serene setting and soft voices. I've since named this the Golf Nap.
I can't even watch The Simpsons for an hour, usually.
More lies. I may have a short attention span, but I'm the biggest TV addict in the state. Have been since shortly after birth.
Long live Chi Chi Rodriguez!
Eye roll.
1 September, 1996
Am I happy or not? I'm not sure. I don't think I am.
I wasn't.
I don't like him, I like what he does for me. What he does to me? Sort of. What a stupid situation. This sucks.
In hindsight, I never really liked him very much, I did only like what he did for/to me, it was a stupid situation, and it did indeed suck.
I can walk away at any time. Can he? No. I win.
Or I would have won, if I'd had the guts to actually walk away. But hell, I was 20.
[He] is so completely whipped I can't even stand it. It's pathetic. It just makes it harder for me, feeling as little as I do about him. I know I'm evil, not caring about people, but he is just such a LOSER.
He was then, and remains now, sort of a loser. I could really pick 'em.
My god, how will I ever get rid of him now? I never should've slept with him, it just made everything worse, I'm sure.
Evidently sleeping with a virgin is the WORST way to get them out of your life.
This SUCKS.
So I finally decided to just wait it out for another 7 years, and see how it went. Oh, yeah, and get married along the way. Totes. Brillz.
28 December, 1996
"Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude, but I was dependent on it." - Charles Bukowski (from Factotum)
This is the last entry of the year, and the quote is all it consists of. Despite its obvious I'm so cool because I read Bukowski vibe, it's strikingly fitting. I remember feeling so trapped by being in a relationship, which is why I still do everything I can to be single to this day.
I may have been a pretentious, immature, emo brat at this age, but I guess I did get some things right.
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