mostly notes to myself
2004-05-24 ~ 4:14 a.m.

i was looking for... pictures of something... don't even remember what now.

funny...wrote a whole paragraph and deleted it. fucking verbage. won't let you hold me down.

i came across an old love letter and then a conversation from a few years later. ...and a wellness? journal. how funny.

i laughed, i almost cried.

no you's needed...this is the little duck, wouldn't be anyone else.

i loved that. just so you know.

i love that you wrote letters to me. and that i wrote you bad poetry.

those were great ...and sometimes awful... great times.

in other news, i have given much thought to my impending date of birth festivities. it is on a thursday.

i want something a little different this year. as far as festivities are concerned. and i want terri there, dammitt.

...and i want toad the wet sprocket to sing "before you were born" to us in the backyard.

there is more on that list of "i want..." maybe some things that are more do-able.

like smokes from everyone. free smokes for life from marlboro actually, and that fry's gift certificate i want from karen. and photo albums. and the...oh yeah, see? making fine progress

i have the pictures all ordered and stacked and bagged...waiting to go. either in a book...or far, far away to a cellar with a well in it.

the pictures are ordered:

misc. family and/or scenery

little brother (who is in actuality, the bigger brother)

big brother

mother

me - as a baby or toddler (my dad is grouped here too)

me - in all the awkward stages

me - pre-lesbian FUN pictures

me - post-lesbian FUN pictures

now - now, or lately (technically, within the last 2 years)

side notes to self...

will remember the see-saw of emotion.

whatever you can see is not where you really are.

will hang the damn piece of paper up...in the garage, maybe

will keep up the real journal, as it is going along nicely. i really do write better when there is not a backspace key. when it is not so automatic and easy to undo what i said, when i meant to say that very thing in the first place.

things to remember to do:

-write mrs. hudson a letter

-post office, post office...should have put that first

-relist like a motherfucker, and find that damn phone

-call the irs. not the actual irs, but the tax place you saved the link to

-evaluate the autographed books and think about it

everything i really owned is more or less gone or going, and what is left is only because i can't sell it. i will fit everything i own into one room or less, not counting bathroom or kitchen before this is done.

makes me leaner. more fast like a turtle.

buys me another month. june. not my favorite month, but it'll do.

which makes me rethink my birthday a bit...because buying july is kind of a reach right now.

but anyways...

the dreams are coming back. have no idea how. might start upping the meds a bit and see what happens. know the seraquel was useless. they are too fragmented for me to remember. it very well might be that this is exactly what therapy does to me. i have thought this before. unlocking the subconscious and letting it roam the halls and play in your shadows at night is not always a good thing. no unusual escalation in dissociation, *i hear elizabeth in my head right now*

how funny.

so the dreams are back. they have the power to drive me truly mad. as experinced. so help me, if i wake up to myself barricaded in a room and chanting in a foreign tongue...i am going to do something about it.

this road...these roads, many of them...

i know their curves like a lover, i know the way they smell and i know how the dirt feels. they are the roads of my life so far. i know every inch, almost. i can tell you exactly some of what happened in my childhood that sent me off into the woods somewhere...but the roads of adolescent and adulthood are many, and all are spotted with blood and fragments of me juxtaposed over images i can never quite make out. i dream of the past, present and the future all as one, and i think most people do. but damn, it leaves me staggering and confused. but mostly...i dream of something terrible, still. i dream of running and fighting and there is never a lack of crimson. i prefer lucid dreaming. i'll leave it at that.

emer is awake, can't sleep. hope she makes it.

hope i do too.

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