Silly announcement of the day:I'm not feeling very silly today. Sorry. |
October 26, 1998."Shoot myself to love you, - "fundamentally loathsome" I'm feeling sorry for myself today. Damn, I'm depressed. Trevor & I had a big fight last night, and its intensity was pretty much my exclusive fault. This is maybe the 3rd time we've ever fought: the first was about David Foster Wallace's book The Broom of the System (don't even ask), the second was the night of Christina the Shameless, and the third was last night. It serves me right, though...I'd just been thinking smugly how good I am at going steady, how it was a pretty nice skill to have, and boy, did I have it in spades. Hah. So we fought for an hour & a half last night, then kind of came to a plateau. He went home & I fell right into a very disturbing series of dreams. One of the last featured the pervading sense that I was late for an appointment...which became an interview...and then I was 11 hours (!) late, but I finally made it to the hotel. As I stepped into the busy suite, I realized that I was supposed to interview Sting. He then walked by (dressed in his Dune costume), and I explained my lateness in the pouting-est, little girl way possible, and he said he'd see if he had time left. He exited & my mother came in. We chatted, and I told her that I'd screwed up a chance to interview Sting. She didn't seem too upset until one of the other people present tried to sit on my head. I was embarrassed a great deal by this, like this guy's head-sitting behavior was my fault (perhaps a reflection of my constant worry that I'll innocently offend my mother's bizarre & inconstant sense of morality). Then I woke up, late for class, and as I dressed in 30 seconds flat, all I could think was, "you screwed up your Sting interview, you stupid cunt." When reality set in, I was no less depressed remembering the ugly things I'd said last night. I fought tears all morning, positive that I'd torched my relationship. All day long I abused the courtesy phones, trying to get a hold of him...and when I did he sounded remarkably chipper, like nothing had happened. I don't know if my tears then were relief or not.
Well, I should go & write my Spider Robinson article now. The first one isn't up on the Varsity's website yet, but if you want a sassy review of Callahan's Legacy, I'll keep you posted, 'coz your search is over, brothers & sisters.
one year ago today: weird relationship with god |
