Getting my soul in order

I've started to locate a lot of areas in my life that cause me very specific anxiety, and ways that I can start fixing them. Paying my bills on time. I always avoid opening bills because I find the whole act of doing that, and paying them, horribly depressing, so I just don't. But then they become late, and I wrack up fees, and creditors call me, and this causes me untold amounts of stress and depression, and it's all my fault, and if I would just pay my fucking bills on time, when I get them, this would never happen. And I wouldn't have to spend nearly as much money. duh.

So yesterday I bit the bullet and paid off everything I owe, including this super lame-o $103 fee to Time Warner Cable that I was just going to ignore since I no longer have Time Warner Cable, but I wanted to get them off my back. So now my bank account is significantly less (I had several issues pending), but I felt much better about it all, and I'm totally caught up on everything now. It feels nice.

I've also discovered that while I used to find television comforting (as some kind of "companionship," or portal to the outside world to fend off loneliness), that now I realize it depresses the hell out of me. Which I'm taking as a sign of maturity. I can sit in my living room and listen to music and do absolutely nothing, and feel less lonely than if I'm watching TV. And frankly, I find it very comforting that I feel this way. The passivity of it, I think, is what I find so bothersome. And the constant yammering of commercials and stupid people and laugh tracks.

I started reading The Art of Loving, by Erich Fromme yesterday, who was a very prominent psychologist in the 50's and 60's (very Christian-based and homophobic, too, but he was otherwise very intelligent, and everybody was homophobic in the 50's), and he talks a lot about love being an "activity, in the modern usage of the word...usually meant to bring about a change in an existing situation by means of an expenditure of energy." But then he goes on to talk about a man "driven to incessant work by a sense of deep insecurity and loneliness" actually being quite "passive," because he is a slave of his passion, and "his activity is in reality a 'passivity' because he is driven; he is the sufferer, not the 'actor.'" But then he goes on to say that a man sitting, doing nothing but meditating quietly and contemplating "with no purpose or aim except that of experiencing himself and his oneness with the world, is considered to be 'passive'...in reality, this attitude of concentrated meditation is the highest activity there is, an activity of the soul, which is possible only under the condition of inner freedom and independence." and on and on.

I thought this passage was particularly interesting because one thing my therapist and I dealt with quite a bit was my inability to be "in the moment," most of the time, and feeling like I always had to be looking to the future, or some pie-in-the-sky goal or whatever. I could never (and still can't, really, but I'm working on it) just take things day by day, or even moment by moment. Like, it's hard for me to sit still in a relationship and just enjoy it, or the moment, because I always want to know what's coming next, what everything "means," or why something is, or isn't, happening. I love it when I can read something like Fromme and immediately apply it to my life, and understand their wisdom and where they're coming from and what they're talking about. My constant restlessness: a sign of inner turmoil and insecurity (in a nutshell). Powerful stuff.

I'm also loving Mahler's Symphony No. 6: Tragic these days. It's on pretty much constantly. It doesn't sound tragic. It sounds like sunshine. Maybe that's the tragedy.

Val

Today was beautiful.

Somebody give me a job immediately

I've become addicted to watching Oprah lately. Well, the last 2 days. Today she has the cast of Brokeback Mountain on, and talk about taking a great film and turning it into meaningless drivel. And Anne Hathaway is about 16 brain cells short of a pear.

Somebody should give Courtney Love her own talk show. Now that would be worth watching. Imagine the possibilities.... Especially if she only had people on that she hated.

Also, I really love all these new Ebay commercials that have "Daydream Believer" playing. I heart that song.

Scabs

So, um, is it like, a prerequisite that to work at Thundercloud Subs you have to look like a homeless person? Or maybe they only hire homeless people? Like a McJobs program or something, but for worn-out hipster junkies instead of retarded kids? Just wondering.

However, I think I discovered my new favorite coffee shop. Or, well, at least my new favorite barista. At Clementine, on the east side, that I didn't even know existed until yesterday. Anyway, the barista, yeah. Delicious.

To borrow a phrase from Kris, Pretend Boyfriends everywhere.

Seems I'm not the only one who felt the way I did....

Salon's take on the James Frey episode of Oprah today. Interesting.

Oprah Winfrey is a schmuck

Does anyone really care about all of this James Frey debacle? I mean, really? I've read the book (I read it last summer during my "memoir phase"), and it seems to me that people should be more upset about the fact that the writing in it is just really bad.

I'm currently watching the Oprah episode referenced in the above article, and it's really painful. Honestly, how many "memoirs" or biographies (that are interesting at all) aren't a little embellished? To me, the point of a memoir is still to tell a compelling story, and does it really fucking matter whether his girlfriend committed suicide by hanging or by wrist-slitting? The point still comes across, and ultimately the book is about drug and alcohol recovery, not about the tiny details. There is still much to be learned and gained from it.

Oprah is being a total hard-ass on this guy, and she's as much as admitted that she's really embarrassed about promoting and defending the book last week, but it seems to me that she's slightly scapegoating this guy. If she's going to go on Larry King Live and vehemently defend him and basically say the exact same thing I just said in the above paragraph, then when she's attacked by her audience, she should stand her ground, and not suddenly reverse position and invite him onto the show to more or less put him in shackles and let the whole audience throw rocks at him for an hour. It's cowardly and malicious, and, at least in my opinion, makes her look just as bad and fake as it makes him look. What a fucking bitch. And a fake.

I don't care if James Frey spent 3 years in jail, or 3 hours. That's not what I took away from the book, and maybe I'm being too lenient, but that's just how I see it. The bigger truth of the book is still the the Truth of his recovery. God, and she has all these journalists on the show like Joel Stein (nice career there!) and Maureen Dowd talking about how awful James Frey is and how Oprah should "kick his butt" and when Oprah admits she was wrong, she gets applauded. But when Frey says he wrote things as he "remembered them" (including with some documentation), he gets roundly booed and Oprah sits there smirking, taking it all in.

Big fucking deal. I think Frey is a pompous ass, and his book isn't even that good, but still, I feel a little sorry for him.

The Unnatural State

God bless Arkansas. Literally. John Brown University in Siloam Springs has dismissed a student whose parents are employed there because he's gay, and in order for him to stay, his "lifestyle" was too restrictive.

Money quote:
"According to Guinn, he was told to not dress in women's clothing, not slap others on the buttocks if he was a member of a sports team, not hug or shake hands with other men for too long, not "broadcast" his lifestyle, and not tell other students he was gay until he knew them well."

I love he can't shake hands with other men for too long.

PS

Seriously, I never wanna drink again. At least not until tomorrow.

After "writing" that last nonsensical blog entry, I passed back out for like, another hour. Now it's 2, I'm vaguely sick to my stomach and totally not tired. Shit.

Mark says I should blog more when I'm drunk because it's funny.

The capsule bore precious cargo

Whew! I just woke up from a 2-hour nap, if you wanna call it that. I went to a Tribeza happy hour earlier today at Santa Rita, right around the corner from my house. Unfortunately, they had free tequila shots, of which I had 7. Or maybe 8, I'm not sure (the kind I liked the most was created in barrels that had been used to make Maker's Mark, since they're made by the same people; delicious!). And that was after having a very strong margarita right when I got there. I came home and kind of collapsed, but not before drunk-dialing a couple of people (luckily, I no longer have a certain person's phone number in my phone). I was supposed to go to the first meeting of the gay and lesbian whatever at St. Edwards, but since I got home around 7:40, and could barely stand up, and their meeting started at 8, I didn't make it. I feel really bad; the leader of the group is in my Theories of Personality class and made a point of introducing himself to me this afternoon, and welcoming me to the club. Oops. Oh well, I'm sure it's just a bunch of 20-year-old undergrads anyway.

I should stop being so snobby. I guess I'm going to be awake all night, now. Great.

My teen-angst bullshit has a body count

The past can be very dangerous if you let it; or very funny. I'm at home tonight, bored, lonely, a little drunk on too much wine, now moving on to whisky, hoping to become much more drunk. Listening to Slowdive way too loud (am I in a Gregg Araki movie right now?). So, I started going through the junk drawer in my dresser and came across an old journal I started keeping, I would say, probably right before I moved to Austin when I was 21. None of the entries are dated, but I vaguely recall actually writing some of them. Anyway, it's been quite the trip down Memory Lane. I was so emotional (was....) and totally hung up on a friend of mine from college, and, as I note in the journal, apparently had been for the entire 3 years prior and thought my world was ending because he just had so many girlfriends. Even though I also had a boyfriend at the time, this guy ruled my world. It's so hard to think back on that now. I've been in very sporadic and superficial contact with said boy over the past few years, and it's hilarious to think back on how obsessed over him I was! Kind of puts things in perspective, I guess.

The journal is also full of lots of wonderful poems I wrote back then (Jesus, I was angry!) about being heartbroken, detesting "punk rock boys" and their $80 pants and their stupid music and their girlfriends and how fake they all are, and how in love with all of them I am (among various other topics). I would never in a million years share those poems with anyone, but I picked out the least embarrasing one, and decided that in the interest of repaying my loyal readers, I would post it here for you all to get a good chuckle. But brace yourself, because it's hilarious (and keep in mind that this is the only one I would even consider sharing. Enjoy!

Coins in my hand
ultimately mean nothing,
but flesh against flesh
Sudden shock and
disgusted stares.
Take it again and just hold it there forever.
Who cares what these people think?
Tonight it's just us
and this metal machine.
Songs on the radio,
and we're lost in the moment.
Was there a moment?
I think I just lost it.
A piercing thought,
a brief grope,
a slamming of doors,
and I'm back where I started.
Hunks of metal,
houses on stilts,
one more cigarette for the night.
Decaying lungs mean nothing to me
I can't breathe as it is.
The breeze blows
voices drift
and I wonder
who's really happier.
I need to sleep,
but I don't care.
Wandering beats,
more alcohol,
more consumption
and you'll be happier
more creative
and more...
in the moment.
Here and now.
The future is long
and the past
is meaningless.

Isn't that the best?!?? I think my favorite part is where I say, "we're lost in the moment, was there a moment?" I love it.

"He's like a cat that falls off the table and then starts licking its butt."

Last night was a night of firsts for me:

1. I brazenly gave a boy my phone number right in front of one of his co-workers, and several party guests. It was at a birthday party for this guy in his house far up in the hills west of Austin, seemingly miles above the city. The boy was a caterer at the party, and we had been making eyes at each other all evening (well, okay, I was only there for an hour), and he was hot hot hot. I also think he's about 20. Anyway, we'll see what comes of it. Probably nothing, I'm sure, but it sure was nice to be so obviously checked out by somebody, and then to act on that. Especially on a stunning multi-level deck built on the side of a sloping hill, covered with what seemed like hundreds of tiny candles and clear christmas lights and a dimmer light in the swimming pool, which is on the lower deck. The bar was set up on the upper deck, overlooking the city. Appropriately.

2. I sang karaoke at a crowded bar. Collier had rented part of the patio at Mother Egan's, and some other birthday party had rented the other part. They had the karaoke, but they let us play. After Kurt sang, and Dylan sang, I finally pulled up my nerve (along with several beers) and sang "Like a Friend," by Pulp. It was fun and kind of addictive, it seems. I was going to sing another one but we ran out of time.

All in all, a nice and interesting weekend so far. This afternoon, soccer lives again.

Happy Birthday, "Shorty!"

Today is Collier's birthday. We celebrated at midnight last night by leaving Laura's toasty house (after watching My Summer of Love and drinking copious amounts of wine) and driving down to Mozart's to get not just one, but two, different kinds of chocolate cheesecake and splitting them. Laura's friend Ruth was with us too. I don't know her well, but we all decided she's totally "Charlotte" from Sex and the City for myriad reasons too convoluted and silly to get into in this particular forum. Which naturally makes her extremely endearing to me. We also listened to that awful "It's your Birthday" song by 50 Cent in the car, like, 80 times. But it was wonderful. I love those girls. It makes me wish I was a lesbian.

So, Collier, happy 29. See ya in da club. I love you.

A few observations from my second day of school

1. I was urinating in the library between classes and noticed that to my left, built into the wall, was an ashtray. One of those cool, old-fashioned kinds that have the 2 pieces that open in the middle when you push the little lever, and then your cigarette butt falls down inside it. Obviously you can't smoke in the library now, but I found that so curious that at one point smoking was so ubiquitous that you could even stand at the urninal in the bathroom of the library and puff away. Jesus, no wonder our whole society is riddled with cancer.

2. I will never, ever work out at the gym there. It's in the gymnasium building, where the basketball court is, and it's totally open-air. There are always basketball players and stuff in there working out, and there are actually classrooms in the building too (I have a class in there; it's actually sort of depressing and feels like high school), and everyone has to walk by the gym to get to the classrooms and can see everybody in there working out. No thanks. I'm much too shy for that.

3. I was totally dreading taking Spanish, but i think I'm going to love that class. My teacher has a really fun, creative way of teaching that encourages lots of participation and she's really funny. Which is good, I need to know Spanish.

4. Drum circles are still alive and well among undergraduates on America's campuses.

5. Giant sunglasses that take up most of your face are totally in. Not that we didn't all already know that, but I'm just confirming it.

And last, but not least, I think I have my first Campus-Crush. It's this dude that I saw 3 different times yesterday. He's really tall and skinny, and has dark hair, and black-rimmed glasses and looks like a total geek. I'm sure these details are shocking. He actually looks like he could be old enough to be a grad student, too. I must try to learn more.

1 day of school down, a whole bunch more to go

So, I can now officially lay to rest my "first day of school jitters." It was great, and while it's hard to get too much of a feel for how the classes are going to be (except my American Experience class, which, I have a feeling, is going to require lots and lots of homework), I had a good time today.

The best story, I suppose, is my Gender Studies class. It was first, at 8 am, and when I walked in, there was this bald, quite old (like, 70's old) man wearing a fancy tie, totally geeking out with some girl in the class about opera: talking about their favorite ones, have they seen this or that. And yes, the flamboyant, old, gay man is the professor. Turns out, the entire semester is dedicated to "American, gay male writers," including my favorite author, James Baldwin. So naturally I go to his office after class to tell him how much I love James Baldwin and how thrilled I am that we're going to be studying him. So we end up getting into, like, a half hour conversation about writers and movies. He's awesome and slightly deaf, so he's pretty funny. He kind of makes a joke out of it.

Anyway, he was totally intrigued that I made films, and wants to see black-eyed, for a possible screening in class, in our James Baldwin discussion!!! It's a match made in Heaven, but I'm pretty reticent about showing that in class, for obvious reasons that anyone that's ever seen it would understand. So on Wednesday I'm taking him that, and my DVD copies of Burnt Money and Far From Heaven, both of which he's heard of, but never seen. (Hopefully I'll get them back.) He's bringing me a movie too, that he loves, which I saw in college and hated, but I'd already shot down several movies he mentioned, and hadn't seen most of the others. The guy wanted to share something, so I let him.

And aside from all that, I actually really enjoyed my Spanish class, and I think I'll like the other 2, but the jury is still out on my Theories of Personality teacher too. She seems a little dull, but I'm withholding judgement until further notice. The first day is always sort of boring.

But it was fun, and I'm really looking forward to getting in-depth on all of this. Right now I'm tired and slightly overwhelmed, but I'll get into the swing of things soon. Lots of possibilities....

Top 10

So, I struggled quite a bit this year with my Top 10 Movie List. On the one hand, I had very visceral, emotional reactions to several films that I didn't really feel like putting on the list for one reason or another, yet didn't get too emotionally involved in other films that I nonetheless thought were remarkable for other reasons. Maybe it's my inner critic trying to be too objective, and I'm afraid that if I pay too much lip service to my subjective voice, films that maybe I saw but few other people saw, might be ignored. There are several on my list this year that I feel were grossly overlooked by a lot of you that I think you should see, and I maybe included them for that reason, or just because I thought they were overlooked gems in general. I'm sure that makes no sense whatsoever to you, but it makes sense to me.

I also decided, through a lot of deliberation, not to actually "rank" them by number, but to just put up the 10 I thought were best and let my little capsule reviews speak for themselves. I know that's kind of "against the rules," but whatever. I make my own rules, bitch. So, without further adieu, here are the 10 movies I thought were the best this year (in alphabetical order). Feel free to comment, criticize, question or praise. Thanks for reading.

Brokeback Mountain – dir. Ang Lee
I hate to applaud this film for many of the same reasons everyone else does: for its bravery, it boldness, its hubris, almost, people seem to think. It’s only “brave” because people make it so, and frankly, I find all of that a bit insulting. (Does no one remember River Pheonix and Keanu Reeves “playing gay” in My Own Private Idaho, like, a million years ago?) What I wish to applaud this movie for is its intelligence, its innate understanding of human nature, and the power of shame and repression to ruin lives, and its humanity. This is a film, indeed, that can change America, as many critics have claimed, and I hope it does. It is profoundly important (sadly, but that’s the way it is), but again, only because of the current nature of politics, but that’s not why I think it’s a great film. It is a tragic love story in its truest and most fundamental sense, and it’s heartbreaking. Pure and simple. Heath Ledger steals the show as a man ripped apart by grief and longing, but not all at once: slowly and agonizingly over a period of years, and who only too late faces his own demons and fears.

Capote – dir. Bennett Miller
An absolute tour-de-force. This film has everything a great film should have: a flawless script, a spiritual dilemma of Biblical proportions, a gut-wrenching climax, and the performance of the decade by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. This film boldly shows that what drives a man can also destroy a man; that art can not only be redemptive, but also a force for destruction. I didn’t know going in that Capote never completed another book after In Cold Blood, but the film makes it clear that this is so, and why. Without question. The closing scene left me feeling as if my guts had been ripped out and dumped onto the floor. It took sitting through the credits, and then several minutes afterward, the theater long since emptied and now silent, for me to even collect myself enough to stand and walk, and exit the building. I felt weak and used up, like my own life had been visited by devastation. A truly unforgettable and life-changing film.

Just Friends – dir. Roger Kumble
Yeah, I know it’s retarded, but any movie that makes me laugh as much as Just Friends did deserves a place on this list. Possibly the funniest movie I’ve seen in years. Predictable, cookie-cutter and dumb, yes, but I wanted to marry Ryan Reynolds after I saw it. I watched it alone and was still in hysterics on my couch. I could probably watch this movie over and over and cry laughing every time.

Millions – dir. Danny Boyle
Simply put, one of the smartest, sweetest, and most charming kid’s films ever made. Its innocence made me weep, and I wanted everyone I knew to go see it. I think it was grossly underrated, and has the ability to make you see all the possibilities in the world. I hope lead 5-year-old actor Alexander Nathan Etel has a long future ahead of him. His wide-eyed mysticism and confusion could make all of us rethink our priorities.

My Summer of Love – dir. Pawel Pawlikowski
Like Heavenly Creatures before it, My Summer of Love tells the story of 2 girls from vastly different backgrounds (working class tomboy Mona, and the upper-class, prep school Tasmin) sharing an intense summer together, drawn together by their mutual disillusionment and abandonment by their families. Naturally, their relationship turns sexual, obsessive and bordering on the pathological, both girls getting in slightly over their heads and getting their first real tastes of love. It’s a “coming of age” film where very little actually happens, but it’s rich in character and atmosphere, and a sense of foreboding that’s both mesmerizing and almost unbearable. Both actresses are phenomenal, and the heartbreaking ending somehow manages to be both shocking and completely predictable. You don’t think they’ll go there, but they do, and it’s gut-wrenching.

Mysterious Skin – Dir. Gregg Araki
Araki (thankfully) abandons his redundant and progressively empty in-your-face, punk rock ethos, but not his style, in this sensitive, shattering portrayal of the devastating effects of childhood sexual abuse. The performances by Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbett as the teenage victims coming to terms in ways that couldn’t be more opposite of one another (one violently and recklessly acting out, the other retreating inward into a solitary world of loneliness and delusion), were 2 of my favorite performances of the year.

9 Songs – dir. Michael Winterbottom
For anyone who’s ever loved and lost, or simply wondered what the hell happened when it was over and quietly faded away. A starkly simple film based on 2 people who seem to care deeply about one another, but eventually, in the simplest terms possible, just run out of things to talk about. Quietly devastating, and filled with an aching loneliness that will be familiar to anyone who’s ever missed a lover’s touch so much they wore their sadness like a heavy coat.

Pride and Prejudice – dir. Joe Wright
This movie made me feel like I was in love again. A perfect love story of 2 people destined to be together but fighting it desperately. Contains all the elements of the perfect romance, with one of the most fulfilling payoffs in modern cinema history. I could even forgive Mr. Darcy emerging through a post-dawn fog, his coat billowing behind him, to retrieve his woman in the shuddering climax.

Rize – dir. David LaChappelle
I have to admit to a lot of skepticism, seeing as how this was a documentary directed by LaChappelle, in my opinion, one of the most overrated photographers working today. However, I was entirely unprepared for what I saw. What I saw moved me, made me cry, absolutely broke my heart, and made me believe in the salvation of art (well, confirmed by belief in the salvation of art). This film could rouse even the most cynical of hearts and broken of souls.

The Squid and the Whale – dir. Noah Baumbach
A hilarious but ultimately heartbreaking film about a family falling apart, and the confused children left in the wake. Jeff Daniels is spectacular as the pretentious, emotionally impenetrable, liberal elitist father a breath’s whisper away from falling apart but doing everything in his power to deny it. Jesse Eisenberg, as the son, Walt, who mindlessly mimics his father, but eventually learns better, displays a wisdom and disillusionment few actors his age could convincingly pull off. Laura Linney, as always, is lovely.

Runners-up:
5x2
Batman Begins
Gunner Palace
Jarhead
King Kong
March of the Penguins
Roll Bounce
War of the Worlds

The Absolute Worst of the Worst:
Happy Endings
You, Me and Everyone We Know
Palindromes
Cursed
House of Wax

Best Director: Bennett Miller (Capote)
Best Actor: Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Capote)

Biggest Disappointment: Bad Education - dir. Pedro Almodovar

I have too been playing with 52 cards.

So, as anyone who knows me well knows, I'm a very nervous person. I'm prone to nail-biting, knuckle-cracking, constant fidgeting, twitchy eyes, insomnia, getting completely stressed out over entirely inconsequential events, thinking everything is the end of the world and that my life is ruined, and so on and so forth.

My most acute anxiety typically occurs at night after I decide to go to bed, usually because I can no longer even keep my eyes open or stop yawning. But then, like clockwork, as soon as my head hits the pillow and I turn out the light, I'm wide awake (often for hours). I've resorted to a variety of measures to try to counteract this in the last few months, the most effective being a Xanax with a glass of wine. But I'm out of Xanax, and doing that makes it almost impossible to get out of bed the next day unless I sleep, like, 11 hours. (In which case I get up feeling as if I've been sleeping for days, i.e., wonderful.)

So last night was one of those nights. I was already a little wound-up from a long day of dealing with financial aid options for school, picking out books, working, obsessing about the new boy I've met once, but nevertheless want to marry, even though I'm sure he has no interest in me, worrying about getting a job and how I'm going to pay my bills in school, and one small bout of spontaneous crying while I was sitting in traffic, because I'm just feeling really emotional right now for a lot of reasons.

About an hour before bed I took a Clonopin (mild anti-anxiety drug prescribed by my doctor; it's not as strong as Xanax) and drank a glass of wine. I read for awhile on the couch, and not in bed, as my doctor also instructed me to do (because I need to start associating the bed with sleeping only), and when I could literally no longer hold my eyes open, I went to bed and turned out the light. Open go the eyes. For 2 hours. After about an hour and 15 minutes, I finally got up, drank 2 pretty healthy shots of whisky, and laid on the couch to watch some TV to distract me from whatever it was bothering me. I couldn't really figure it out. Everything was rationalized: school was taken care of through my loans (tuition, books, insurance, and even about $1,300.00 left over just for me), I didn't really care that much about the boy, as I'm not even remotely interested in actually having a relationship with anyone at this point (he's just a fun distraction), I could survive at least a month or more (if I'm frugal) on the amount of money I'm going to receive in the next couple of weeks. I had no idea what was troubling me so much, but the whisky finally eventually kicked in, and around 2 I passed out, but not before resetting my alarm clock from 6:15 to 7:15.

Then this morning it hit me: I'm having the "first day of school jitters!" I thought that at the age of 28, I would be secure enough to be past all that, and not so worried about being judged by my peers (who, in all likelihood, will mostly be about 20), but apparently not. All those terrifying first days of junior high and high school are surging back on me, creating in me an anxiety I had totally forgotten about and put out of my mind for years. I was never popular in school. I always had a small group of friends, but there were certain classes (or entire years) all through grade school that were just unbearable, and sometimes downright terrifying (I got my life threatened by jocks on an almost daily basis). I know everyone suffered through this to some extent, and I'm not saying mine was any worse than anyone else's, but just maybe that I internalized it all a little more than I should have. So now that I've realized that's what it is, I feel terrified. I started freaking out earlier, questioning this whole decision to go back to school, wondering what the hell I was doing, and what in God's name made me think I could actually be a good therapist to someone? Am I just totally wasting thousands of dollars and years of my life on some other pipe-dream I'm going to be bored with as soon as I'm done?

But what it really all comes down to is that I'm terrified that some football meathead jock from fucking Lubbock or some shit is gonna decide he doesn't like the way I walk and start calling me a faggot every day in Spanish class. Or knock my books out of my hands in the halls. Or everyone's just going to think I'm a loser, and none of the graduate students will want to hang out with me (and I'm counting on hanging out with them). I'm afraid there won't be any free tables in the coffee shop on campus when I need to sit and do homework between classes and it's gonna be like in the cafeteria in junior high when all of your other friends had different lunches than you did, and you stood there like an idiot, tray in hand, scanning the sea of assholes for a place to sit and finding none, and just knowing that everybody was making fun of you for not having any friends.

There is pretty much nothing more terrifying to me in life than being judged by my peers, and until I was about 23 or so, it didn't usually go all that well. Even now I still get incredibly insecure and self-conscious about it, and more of my life than I'd like to admit is fairly well calculated to have what I consider to be the most prime "appearance" or outcome. I suppose that ultimately I'm inordinately afraid of rejection and humiliation, and going back to school just exacerbates those already rather flared-up fears. Just thinking about walking into that first class this coming Monday morning makes my fingers shake. I know I'll get used to it and I'm sure everything will be fine, and if nothing else, I'll totally win over my professors (one hopes), but me being me, I can't help but to constantly imagine the worst-case scenario.

Does that shit actually work?!??

I don't want to jinx anything, but last night at Little City there sat a man who literally took my breath away. he was the most devastatingly handsome man i've ever seen and i would have married him on the spot. i couldn't take my eyes off of him all night.

so, i go home and send him a Missed Connection on Craigslist and he actually responded, knew who i was (remembered me from the coffee shop), is actually a mo, is on MySpace and sent me his link. so i asked him on a date.

i'm literally trembling right now.

I'm sure it will amount to nothing, and he's 26, and I've sworn off anyone under at least 28, but if you could see this guy, you wouldn't blame me.

Fuhget about it

Mandy, Victor and I just went to see King Kong. If up until now, Brokeback Mountain was the movie where I'd actually cried the most, King Kong just surpassed it. I was a wreck. But it was beautiful.