temperance14: (Default)
Little marshmallow bits, trying to spill forth from the head and its not happening. (Started at 10am)

**********************

Not getting focused. Don't want to get focused.
Focused means facing what life is bringing, and I really don't want to deal with it.

I've had some lovely days in the midst of stress/worry/fear. I am focusing on *that*.

I'm selfish and childish. I am not only worried about what the future may bring for others, as well as difficulties for myself---and I'm worried about losing fun and pleasure.

No, correction. I'm worried about losing happiness.

This period of my life as been the most alive I've been in a long time. This doesn't mean always happy. I have been hurt and angry---but it has included the most happy joyous pleasurable times.

I don't want to lose that.

Maybe that ain't selfish. Maybe that's human survival. Not just animal survival (although I've learned how to be a good healthy animal in the last 10 years---I just have to remember to allow myself that basic instinct.)

No, I am learning what I am allowed to desire, aspire, as a cognizant, learning, human.

***************Good Lord. Good LJord.
I'm either 14 year old drama squeen, 17 year old emo, or mid-life I am woman, hear me worship psuedo pagan feely goodness.

Bleagh. Bad mis post, no miso soup.
Only tofu.

OK, done at 12am.
temperance14: (Default)
No go Friday Night Waltz.
No can find capezios, split soles.
Which means, no have shoes that can be danced in for 2 hours.

Poop. That was going to be the pick me up after going south to San Jose and back north on a Friday afternoon.

All pray to shoe gods that I find those teeny bits of fabric and leather.

Update 5 minutes later: silly me. Where else would one put the only dancing shoes one has? Where else would you put those tiny bits, so that you don't lose them.

In the duffle bag with the spare bits of your camping and kayak gear.
sweet.
temperance14: (Default)
Retreat, retrench, reflect, rest. Should have been on picket line, but feeling sick and headachey. Need to rest for father’s doc appoint. tomorrow.

Everyday I want to write---and every time I get the time/privacy opportunity, I procrastinate—it’s after 4pm!. How can you hate to do something that you love to do? How can you make yourself escape something that is ordinarily addictive?

Because it’s public? Because you know it will never be the full truth? Because you know you will censor your expression?

On with it—LJ posts must be done today; parental )

Love to all. Heard from three pryanksters today. Two needed help and I couldn’t assist them much, I’m afraid. One I called because her LJ post sounded needful—she’s ok and has an army to back her up (love our Teddy [livejournal.com profile] barelyproper). And the LJ of one of our prodigals sounded lonely, but he has back up from Sailor Pryank/ [livejournal.com profile] psychababble, she who doth rock.
I wish we had helped him feel more at home---would he mind visiting us and singing for us again? Perhaps he might cheer us instead.
temperance14: (Default)
Caution: lanes of logical thought merging into babbling )

*******

Buggers

May. 9th, 2005 11:20 pm
temperance14: (Default)
Buggers. I am so fucking tired of losing time and life. Just simple pleasures. I just want to go back to when I had time to fucking READ. That's all I ever used to want to do with my spare time was read books. Now I feel guilty if I actually sit down with physical cardboard, binding and paper. Most of the books I read have to be audio, download from the computer.

I used to be well read. I used to be considered well read. Educated. Semi-smart. Informed. Now I appear ignorant.
I would LOVE to read, people. I'm sorry if I cannot pick up every recommended book! I wish I could. It took me two years after it was published to get around to Reading Lolita in Tehran--again, as audio. (I do appreciate, however, hearing the author read their own work.) I did not have the time. I did not have the money (my audio collection id downloaded). And I was not sure I was ready.

(How do you explain to people--damn it all, I cannot even explain it to myself--that I cannot always accept books at the time they are presented to me, or pressed upon me.

Oh hell. Never mind. It's late and going off topic. Resistance to stories is...another story for another time.)

Point is...I want to read. Not just current stuff....but books I've missed, books I've always wanted to read. Biggest joy about working on campus is spending my life on the 4th floor of shields library. Thought I would be willing to live in the east wing of English Lit classics. Then I discovered the poetry of the south wing. I need a parking space up there. C'mon people, just sell me the fucking copy of Ravishing Disunities, no one else borrows it. I swear I was the first person who checked it out.

Tired of writing names of songs and bands down, when I can't afford to buy the CD's, and have to wait until someone turns in a used one at Armadillo. Yeah, I know, I'm going to set up an account with Real Player to download songs. But I love the art on a CD. I love liner notes. Hell, I have replaced most of my old albums with CD's---but kept the albums for the liner art and notes. I like going to shows, buying a CD from a working local musician...someone new to the business of touring, or someone old, who knows that I know they are still making music. I miss having the Palms in my budget. I miss just going down the road to the old Palms, sitting in the gravel driveway. Filling in my diary during the break, and David Brown from the Knockouts coming over to ask what I'm doing, and we talked about favorite old movies.
I miss Uppity Blues Women.

I miss going to movies. For long time, I went through a period of being too shy to go to theatres. (OK, we were going through a period of too many gang fights in our local theatre when I lived in Vacaville.) I was tired of the expense of sitting, surrounded by chatting idiots, trying to immerse myself in a movie.

But there have been films I've wanted to see....in the last few years...and there never seems to be time. Just recently I have heard of films that I really wanted to see, to escape in. Silly things, like Bride and Prejudice. Jane meets Bollywood? Love it. (I can sit through just about any version of Darcy, as long as you give me a great interpretation of Mr. Collins.) Never saw it, and its ready to go to DVD. What's the point of Bollywood, or mock Bollywood, if you can't see it on big screen.

Steam Boy? Don't think it ever made it out here, and I never made it into the city. (Shit, my friends are still trying to coax me into Sacramento on Friday and Saturday nights for open mics and slams. I'm going to attempt Sac commute traffic for a movie at the Tower?)

Damn it all. Seriously tempted to tell all to go bugger themselves and go to their own fests, festivals, fairs and family crap.....I want to go downtown this weekend and see Kung Fu Hustle. Then go crash in a motel downtown for the night, after some pastry at Little Prague.

Fuck it. Bed time. Still haven't written what I want.
See Ruthie? I did it again. My brains and typing finger don't work any better than brains and tongue.

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, into the future

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