[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 14 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Saturday, February 3rd, 2001|
i moved my diary to:
i got tired of the long url!
come on over and see what excitement lies in my life! haha.
|Tuesday, January 30th, 2001|
Today was weird.
It started off with me struggling to get out of bed, which for me, is an odd thing since my alarm clock is just incase I sleep in. Then, I get to work, going through the regular routine of turning on my computer, refilling my water bottle at the water cooler, popping in a cd while I get organized. Then, the bad news came:
"Anne, I'm going to have to train you for the receptionist stuff."
Uhhh. What? I have a phobia phones. Well, not of the phones themselves, but of what it entails. I HATE talking to people I don't know on the phone. I don't know what it is, but it literally gives me a nervous breakdown.
I held my composure.
I felt the tears rising to my eyes, but I fought them because I knew, I knew, I knew that I could indeed answer phones calls if I really needed to. Besides, the world doesn't change to accomadate my feelings/needs.
So, I learned how to transfer calls, put calls on hold, how to work voice mail. I did it. sure, I hung up on a couple of people on accident, but what can you expect? Yet, passes another milestone in Anne's life. I still loathe answering phones with a PASSION, but i sucked it up and did the job. It may not seem like much, but it meant a lot of me. I'm not going to lie and say the thought of just walking out of work didn't cross my mind--I thought about it good and hard. I thought about crying as to get out of the situation. But, that's not me. It's not my nature to back down from situations that are self-challenging.
As weak as I am, I'm also as strong.
How I wish I could've slept in this morning. It was oh so cold outside from under my covers. Womb like. Comforting.
I've had some ephiphanies lately. Some major ones. I guess this is one of the perks of constantly thinking and analyzing myself. I'm constantly thinking about why I do things, the issues I have, why I have these issues, how can I resolve these issues, why people do things, all the sadness in this world, how I can make things better... It's all one big process. One big fucking process.
I can't seem to let things go until I figure them out. I refuse to push things into the back of my mind, letting it latently rest there until one day it rears its ugly head. I like to battle out things right here and now. Unfortunatlely, being so self-aware leads to lots of discoveries, but also a lot of anguish and sadness. But, every so often, something will happen that makes me feel lighter, letting me exhale that breath of air, to stand up a little straighter.
Thank goodness for that.
|Monday, January 29th, 2001|
God damn. I really don't want to work today. I don't ever want to leave the safe haven of my room.
I was supposed to have a gynecologist appt. today, but it got rescheduled for tomorrow, which is actually a let down. I was looking forward to leaving work early. You know how it is, once you get something stuck in your head, then all the sudden it's gone, you get all disheveled. I am disheveled.
I'm so exhausted today. I had a case of insomnia last night, just tossing and turning until 2:30am until I took matters into my hands and chugged a glass of wine. That did the trick.
|Sunday, January 28th, 2001|
Oh, dear. I feel really large and in charge today.
I wish I wasn't in constant conflict with my appearance. I know better, but it's hard to put it into practice.
|Saturday, January 27th, 2001|
Rhett Miller has to be the sexiest man alive.
Have you ever loved a band so much that it hurt? I went through this experience about 4 years ago when I was 18/19. I feel lucky that I could feel this way about band, or should I say, their music. From the first time I heard their album, this wonderful feeling flooded my heart and all I wanted to do was lie on my bed listening to it over and over again. I can't explain why, it's just something inexplicable.
The songs comforted on every emotional occasion--happy, sad, mad, hurt. However I was feeling, their music made me forget about everything else, leading me into a bubble that inevitably floated away to a safe place. I wouldn't even say that their music always makes me happy. It's just, something about their music feels like they understand whatever I'm going through. I guess the best word to give a description is "comforting."
Then, as I learned more about the band, I fell totally in love with the singer. He's not stereotypically "hot," but I fell for him because he's like... the male version of me. I guess you could say I liked him because of his personality, even though I only knew him through print and his lyrics. He grew more and more beautiful in my eyes as I found out more about him, realizing we shared so many of the same insecurites and issues. We were both shy, both jerks, both afraid. He understood. He wasn't a musician to me, he was a friend.
Now, a good four years later, I've sort of outgrown that phase, or whatever it was. I still love them to death and they'll always hold an undeniable place in my stingy heart, but I guess I've... _outgrown_ that kind of devotion. I still get that comforting feeling when I hear them play, but I guess that's a part of being 18--that you _need_ something to latch onto. When I was 18, I was going through a lot of issues, a freshman in college, not making a lot of friends, etc. Really, all you want when you're in that kind of situation is for someone to undersatnd, and that was them for me.
(What's funny is, as I write this, I know I'm leaving out vital information to this story. It's on purpose. All I'll dispell is, as much joy as this band gave me, they also gave me great pain.)
Not to sound all snobby, but I'm glad I'm not one of those hopelessly devoted fans, because if I was, I would still be that 18-year-old trying to find myself.
Man, this convenience of this non web-browser journal is amazing. It really does make me write a lot more.
I just got home from my friend's house. We were going to see a local band I like play, but stupid me forgot my id in my pants pocket, when I gave blood today. I thought: 'Gee, instead of bringing my whole wallet with me, I'm just going to take my I.D. out. That will be so much more convinient!' Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Instead, we saw "Thirteen Days" which is about the Cuban Missle Crisis of the JFK presidency. I wouldn't normally see that movie, but it was good. Sadly, that is the most I've learned about the Crisis. Now, I have media generated historical information, which is no doubt faulty in places. Guess it's time to read up.
I'm starved for affection. While most people get horny and want to get laid, all I want is a hand to hold in mine.
|Friday, January 26th, 2001|
Someone out there is reading my journal! Wow. This really pleases me.. :) Thank you.
During the night, some punk broke into our car and stole the car stereo. This is no major thing. That stereo sucked anyway. Hopefully insurance will pay for a more improved version.
I just realized that if people are reading this, all they know about me is that I'm a little mental. Sadly, this is true, but there's so much more to me! I swear.
I'll start with the basic: things I like.
One of my main driving forces in life is music. I absolutely adore music because, simply put, it makes me feel good. Even more than I love listening to music, I love to play my piano and guitar. My skills leave much to be desired, but nonetheless, it's an outlet for me, much like writing is. Excuse me while I get totally cliche and corny, but that feeling I get when I hear a song that, for no particular reason, makes my insides turn and lift... I just love that. I thinkit's the closet I get to feeling whole.
Oops, it's time for work!
|Thursday, January 25th, 2001|
Oh yes. Really, I'm actually a decent writer. I'm not good, but I was an English major and I know how to properly construct sentences and such. So, I totally apoligize for this dreck I'm posting here. I know there are a lot of typos; I know the syntax is horrible; and I know it's not very eloquent. I'm just typing really fast and not giving a crap. : )
My mind is so manic these days! help! I'm thinking about things constantly, but not necessarily different things. It's usually me being obessesive about some foible of mine.
This is one of those days when there's just too much going on in my head to write it all down coherently. Let me try to recap:
Went to work. That was pretty boring, except I wrote a poem about Sea Monkey Poo. Chris liked it and put it up on the wall. Got complimented on my glasses, which kept me going throughout the day so I was somewhat stable.
Then, I get home, eat dinner with my parents, then the nightly ritual of shutting myself in my room and being on the Internet ensued. However, this night I ventured outside my room to watch basketball with my mom. From there, I started to get very anxious.
She doesn't seem to understand all the hints I'm throwing at her. Like, I always say how I 'think I'm ugly' and 'to take down the pictures of me.' How I 'hate my life.' I know I can get dramatic sometimes, but does she not get it? sigh. So, I just sort of blurted it out in a non-chalant manner that I was, indeed, depressed. I guess ever since I realized I can't remember a time when I've been happy, I've gotten pretty sad about myself. I don't want to sad all the time. Life is too good for that. I don't want to be "that person" who goes through life feeling sorry for themself and never accomplishes anything. I don't want to be "that person" who's so self-involved that they forget what's going on around them. But, the thing is, I know I'm not "that person" but I know I could turn into her.
I want to be happy, but it's such a foreign and scary concept. It's different. It's hard to change.
|Wednesday, January 24th, 2001|
I'm almost at the conclusion that I'm not normal.
I mean, yes, I'm normal in many senses of the word, but it's not normal to be sad all the time. I'm really scared because I can't honestly think of a time in my life when I was really happy. I've always had some form of menacing weather following me around. I don't want to feel like this anymore, but I don't know what to do. The normal responce to this is "to get help." I know this, but I don't feel like I'm ready to take that step--not yet. It would make it too real.
The only time I had a semblance of enlongated happiness was when I was with my ex-boyfriend (we'll call him "Skip"). I felt like I wanted to be a better person because of him. I had someone to be strong for, someone I could take of. But even then, I was so wracked with insecurity and self-doubt that it hurt the relationship. Now, a year later, I realize why he couldn't love me, because I don't even love myself. And that hurts. And I want to turn back time and make it different, but I can't and the only thing that will make it better is if love myself.
Why must it be so hard. I'm a person built on the principles of insecurity and low self-esteem; these are the things that are familiar to me, that make me who I am. How do I change who I am?
|Tuesday, January 23rd, 2001|
I don't want to go to work. I, in fact, would like to quit. However, this is one of the downers of being a twentysomething. I'm stuck in this job, which isn't the worst case scenario, but it still isn't the best. Should I be satisfied with what I have, or is satisfaction succumbing to mediocrity?
Also, I'm still sad.
|Monday, January 22nd, 2001|
Here's goes another attempt at a online journal. I have a notebook that I try to write in everyday, but I want the odd satisfaction that someone out there is reading what I write. Odd because I'm such a private person, who isn't very open with their emotions, but I suppose everyone wants to be heard sometimes.
This weekend was tough. I went to a friend's party reluctantly. I've been such a hermit these days, just staying in my room playing my guitar, when not working. I have a tendency to become extrememly anti-social. People start to frighten me. But, this was my best friend's party and I have to force myself to venture into the socially active world to stay sane. Part of my reluctancy had to do with the knowledge that my ex-boyfriend would be there, nonetheless with his new girlfriend. I don't handle encounters with him along very well, and I certainly knew seeing him with his new love would hurt like hell.
But, I went. And, yes, it hurt--bad.
I wasn't expecting it to hurt so much, but when I saw him all those old feeling came back--how much I liked him, how willing I was to love him, how I thought we were something real. Then, his new girlfriend came into view, with her hand where my hand used to fit and my heart sank like a brick. I was completely devestated, so devestated that I did something I never do, drink. And drank I did. I drank until I got sick. Drink after drink, I felt myself drift away into another world. I just couldn't handle being there. So, I did what addicts do, medicate myself from what's real. I felt removed, but the worse part was, the pain wouldn't go away because my heart was too wounded.
Now, I'm back to my sober-self, but the pain of seeing him with her still reels in my gut. I think I hurt so much because he looked so happy, something I don't think he was with me. He kissed her all night, where he was opposed to PDA with me. They looked in love which is what I wanted so badly for us. I wanted him to love me so horribly, terribly bad that I would've done anything. Those feelings have been gone for some time now, but seeing him brought back all those painful and hopeful memories. I don't know if I'm stinging from the past or the present.