Monday, April 30, 2007

Agitation

Barry just called me. Barry is my good for nothing landlord, and he's calling because he just received my rent minus cost and receipt for a small repair that I found someone to do for me because he would or could not find anyone. Basically, I needed a doorknob put on a door, and I needed this since I moved in over a year ago. This repair should have cost less than seventy five dollars. It could have been a simple thing, if Barry was willing to get it done. Instead, I found a card on the street for a locksmith, they came right over, and when all was said and done charged me over four hundred dollars. That's funny, right? The doorknob itself cost two hundred and ten dollars. Of course I knew this was not quite right, but I was nervous about having a stranger in the apartment and the locksmith assured me several times that the cost was standard. I didn't realize he was installing a top of the line doorknob. Plus I knew that if I sent him away the work would never get done.

I took the apartment with the understanding that it would be fixed up for me. That's what they told me. Basically I have been a dumb girl in many ways, and I was very trusting and naive. I really expected them to work on the apartment before I moved in. Instead it was the same fucking shit hole as when I looked at it! Duh I should have known! The floor was torn up with holes, electrical sockets were broken, it wasn't painted, it was dirty. I should have negged on the lease and left right then. But I was tired, and nobody was helping me, certainly not my roommate but she did complain and bitch constantly, which made me feel that it was my fault and my responsibility.

Also, Barry told me I would have backyard access. I should realized that since the door to the backyard wasn't in our apartment, this was an obvious lie. But my desperation and Midwestern niceness again were obstacles to common sense. I learned very quickly that only my trashy, loud neighbors had backyard access (see pictures below) and that no one ever mops or sweeps the hallways. There is no lock on the first of the front doors to the building, the light always goes out, basically it's unsafe and vile in every way.

For the first few months of the lease I tried to get things done, constantly nagging Barry and asking him to send people to fix things. He sent people that were drunk and high, who botched things and didn't have the right supplies and didn't finish anything. So I gave up. Barry's "super" is named Kika and he lives down the street and runs this fake store. I get very, very bad vibes from him. He's creepy and hostile. I think that "store" is some kind of drug den, because of the people that hang out there and the empty bags littered around the area.

When I first asked Barry to fix the doorknob, he sent me to Kika. When I went to Kika, he sent me to Barry. Then I tried to reach Barry for three days. Then we played phone tag while he pretended to try to find someone. Then he told me to find someone on my own if I could. Then I found the locksmith card, called the number, and they came over. So can you blame me for accepting the bill?? I admit that it is a form of revenge. I knew Barry would shit his pants and cry when he saw what I did. But doesn't he deserve it!? Isn't that what he gets?

But I actually hate having conflict with anyone, so now I'm all anxious and nervous about it. He's calling me, texting me, he's going to try to make me pay for it. Now I wish it never happened and am scared to stick up for myself. I have been playing dumb, I sent a text telling him to contact the locksmith because I know nothing about costs. I'm just a girl. And I don't think he can make me pay for it, because I plan to use my security as last month's rent! But I don't want to talk to him on the phone!! But then again, I want to tell him how wrong he is for not taking care of the building. Well, I know I've sent him a pretty clear message, but maybe I would enjoy being direct also, and remind him how he lied to me (just a dumb girl) when he rented the apartment to me in the first place. But I think I should avoid his calls for awhile, just let him sweat it out. I kind of enjoy that thought, but more so want it resolved. This is why I've been nice to him all along, and even lied at times saying the apartment was fine and yes, the neighbors have been taking out their open garbage bags in the hallway "most of the time now." They never take that shit out. It rots in the summer. So I have to be strong here, I have to tolerate the tension of knowing he is upset with me and will try to make me pay the bill. I just hate people being mad at me! I want everyone to like me and agree with me. But at the same time, I hate that motherfucker and am glad he lost money in this stupid situation, it didn't have to be like this.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

the waiting room

The girl I mentioned reading about in the newspaper yesterday apparently died of an accident rather than having been raped and murdered, and her name was Monet, not Monique. They should not have been able to report those fake details! They should say if they have no idea what actually happened. Now they're saying she probably died trying to swing from her closet to her bed, using her jump rope, and that there were no signs of sexual assault. I feel like a sucker for crying in the bathroom over this one, and for questioning prayer and God, even though I know things so sad actually do happen and have happened, it is some relief to me that the pretty, smiling little brown girl pictured was not violated.

I woke up today feeling extremely cozy with Tatiana purring next to me and the sunlight glowing over the orange curtain. The apartment has a whole new, sweet energy since my old roommate moved out, and now that all her things are gone. My feline companion is changed also, she cuddles and mews and follows me from room to room, comes when I call her, and sleeps with me all night. I am so happy that L is gone from my life. I have analyzed the ways that I "cared" for her quite a lot, and only feel so much relief that I'll never nurture that kind of monster ever again. So I enjoy getting out of bed and making coffee, and I don't have to wait until the monster has already left, and I don't have to worry about when she might come home. She's never coming home again!

And even before I read about Monet, all the way to work on the train I was praying over and over until I arrived, "please God help me to be brave and strong and to accept myself and accept your will." One reason I chose this prayer is that I have band practice tonight and a show on Sunday. I really do not want to do the show. There is only one other band playing with us for it that we do not even like or know. I asked one friend who couldn't do it or didn't want to. And even though I have five hundred myspace "friends", I didn't find anyone because I don't even have the internet at home right now, and according to Mark, all the bands he asked including a couple who have played with us before, it sounds like some didn't even write back. Did we suck that much? I don't understand why Eskimobot wouldn't write back. Anyway Mark said he just couldn't find anyone. So really the show is not promoted at all either, I have barely invited anyone to come, and I kind of don't want to invite people, I feel very neggy about it all. Then I think, I just really want to quit. Even though there technically are no requirements and no judges and this is supposed to be just for fun, singing and writing in a band feels like so much pressure to me. I even get stressed on practice days because I know that either I'll have to be singing through the set list, which includes songs that I am tired of or never liked, or we'll be working on halfway developed songs, which is the most difficult part, or we'll just be jamming, which is the most fun, before my parts are written in stone. I wish I or we could keep that energy on stage, instead of trying to get things right and worrying about my appearance. Today I keep thinking about quitting, but if I quit, not only will I affect the band members who have put time, energy, and money into this project, but it will be a great source of ennui to me (quoting MK). Of course, it would be more fun if I sang with girls and they were my real friends, like my a Capella group in college. We definitely had some good times together and worked hard too. God I really don't want to do the show on Sunday!! I want a new life (with MK in it)! I'm so fucking sick of being here at work with my brain rotting doing nothing being a waste of space and time, just hating this stupid job and stupid asshole band that didn't even call me to cancel yesterday so I walked around Time Square for nothing for an hour and a half! I need to get my period, I wish I had some Vicodin for that! I wish MK could fly to me right now, but she's at school! My baby is going to graduate oh so soon, and is turning 26 in three days. God I wish I didn't have to work here or do any of the mindless things I do, my back is killing me.

Monday, April 23, 2007

G-d

What I would give for it to still be Saturday, to be back on Coney Island beach with Michelle, not really a care in the world, exchanging massages (causing the teenage boys walking by to "want one too"), eating cheesy fries, commenting on people we observe, and just laying there, holding hands.


It's hard to transition into the weekday. Immediately upon entering the office, a totally different mood settles in. It doesn't make a difference that it's nice outside, because I don't go outside. Plus, it's hot, and I only like warm. Also, I have the pms this week. I will try not to talk about that too much, because I think in general I'm more interested in my bodily functions and emotional states than anyone else could or should possibly be.

Last night at a friend's house we watched a documentary on gay Hasids. I was very moved by it because the culture and beliefs are so similar to the Christianity in which I was raised, and there was this part where a girl was telling about her sister (who was gay) had said goodbye to her, and then she left and committed suicide. And obviously I didn't commit suicide, but I did say goodbye to my two younger sisters, one who was closest to my age and who really loved me, we were close, I think it hurt her when I left. Actually I think I hurt my whole family when I left, because I'm kind of still gone. Well, my older sister (who's also gay now) left before me, so I don't feel as sad about her. But that part of the film made me have the cry/choke feeling. Then there was this part where these female girly partners are in their apartment going about doing domestic bliss type chores like cooking (special Jewish bread), making the bed, cuddling, and for some reason it was like an vision for me of what I'm going to have but a whole other side that never believed it was possible, like my mind couldn't make the vision on it's own. I think that I probably have had all this deep internalized homophobia (although that word is not quite right or what it is). Like, watching the two girls being domestic, I can't explain why it makes me feel like crying, maybe because I just have assumed I'll be alone, and not only because I fear engulfment but because my parents taught me that being gay is a sin and all gay people should be celibate. I can be very good at hiding things from myself, and often that happens with regards to any vulnerability, I just won't admit it. Being rejected for who I am, well I didn't really wait for that to happen, I left home and only once safely far away did I start to admit things. Well, actually to admit those things I had to become a whole new person and even change my name. That's why I like when Mishy calls me by my first name, it feels very close, like home really, where they still call me that. Sometimes when people call me Faith I despise and hate them. As if it's their fault that I told them a "fake" name, haha, but I hate that they like it. But usually I'm okay with it, I don't really want to be seen to closely by anybody who won't understand me at all, which is almost everyone, or maybe that's grandiose, I don't know.

Anyway, in another part of the video, the gay girl was advising her closeted girl-friend (not her partner) to bring it all to G-d. She said if you talk to G-d about it and ask for his guidance and communicate with him, you will feel better. And I agreed, because I was raised to believe that you should talk to God and Jesus like a friend and he loves you like the best friend imaginable. And I still pray and I talk to God. And also in the film one speaker pointed out that in the bible the prophets often negotiated and argued with G-d, and they sometimes influenced him and changed his mind, which is true. And all this made me happy because I want to be Godly and I pray to God about Mishy asking him to bless our relationship and keep her safe. But then today I was reading the paper and I came across this tiny articule on 5 year old Monica, who was raped and strangled with her jumprope in the Bronx last night, and left hanging in the closet, and I felt my faith drop into the ground. Why should I pray for anything good to happen to me, for me to be good, for my life to be good? This isn't a new existential question, duh why do bad things happen to good people (and children), that question makes most people atheist. And why shouldn't it? Obviously there is not a good and fair God in control of things. Obviously right? I know it isn't the first or last or even especially horrible thing to happen, why should it strike me today? Well I was just wanting to pray about my new roomate moving in, that it will be a good situation for both of us, etc, but why should I pray that?

Maybe praying is really just a psychological function, but really I believe that it is real and true. Why do I still believe that? I'm sure that one answer to this question is in one of the books my parents gave me by CS Lewis or some other Christian philosopher, but really, when is it going to be enough? I can't stand the idea of this world, so evil and violent and painful to some people, difficult for all, people just living and dying and nothing being avenged and no end in sight? Why should I have a good life full of love if somebody else doesn't? Isn't every person worth the same, and G-d love them equally? That's a Jesus concept, I know, so I don't need to block out the o. god God GOD. I feel mad at God, and that's a very Christian thing to say.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Helly jelly

I feel I should say something about the talk of the town, Cho's vengeance. I don't know what to say about it though. Earlier this week, Brian was showing me a photography book of corpses, all different kinds in various stages of decay, mostly from crime scenes and other types of non-natural, and annotated with comments from police officers or whomever was investigating the death or deaths. Also there were pictures of hermaphrodite genitalia, which were very interesting. The pictures that made me the most sad were the dead prostitutes. They were slashed and beaten and left in embarrassing poses, I wish I could rescue all the prostitutes in the world. These photos bothered me more than the pictures of dead babies, "dumpster babies" it said on the side in marker. They looked plastic and shrivelled. I was amazed by how they can really fix a fucked up dead body for the funeral. I saw a lady who had been cut into chunks, torso in the suitcase, head somewhere else, well they sowed her back together and they can put your face back together too. There were many pictures of suicides, including people hanging themselves, sometimes in pairs, elderly romeos and juliets. What surprised me was how disgusting it looks when someone shoots their own head or face off. In movies and media there is a lot of shooting, but the scene always changes right after the shot. The person falls, that's all you know. But it goes everywhere, and the head might be sitting there for days like a bowl holding brains, the teeth rearranged, and everything all over the walls. Then they find you. The body doesn't just evaporate into thin air after the trigger is pulled, which is kind of how it seemed to me before studying this book. I thought a bullet wound was just a hole that leaked blood and your shirt turned red.

I should mention that all these pictures were from the earlier half of the century, so I also felt the strange effect of inanimate objects - their old dresses, brooches, hairstyles, hats. Things like this and photos of people wearing them affect me strongly because they show how a whole reality has come and gone, the culture of those people, the feeling that it would last forever, everything that was important and beautiful or ugly to them - it's like it never existed, except for the leftover things. And everything that is "now" and "real" will meet the same fate.

I don't know why but I ignored the story about Virginia Tech as it was breaking, and for a day or two afterward. In some ways, I wasn't interested, because it was just guns and guns are boring weapons. But then the photos came back to me and I remembered that it isn't just the leaking hole and a scene change.

MK says Cho was a paranoid schizophrenic, and she feels somewhat badly for him. The right medication could have prevented the whole thing.

I've read everything in the newspapers now, and I just found out that Cho was repeatedly watching Oldboy, one of my favorite movies, up until the big day. An article in the newspaper pointed out that the pictures he sent to NBC were poses from Oldboy, and it's true, the hammer pose and the gun-to-head pose. I also keep a hammer under my mattress. That's for self-defense though.

War and Peace is also very violent right now. There were no good old days.

I wonder where all the spirits go!! I want to know what happens, I don't believe this many people (since the beginning of time!) could live and care so much about themselves and their little existences, and then just be gone forever??

War and Peace is also being very Buddhist right now. I can't really explain it though. The progress of the war is not controlled by Napoleon or Kutuzov but has an independent course and identity, and Tolstoy keeps showing how the wiser approach, Kutuzov's, is to listen to that force and accept all events and flow with it, guiding by doing nothing. Also, history is shown to be the culmination of wills and actions of all the individuals alive at any point, never shaped by one supposedly powerful person, although it often appears that way in retrospect because historians want a clear, reasonable story.

I was very much interested in Cho's morale tirade, his preaching. Obviously, this trait in certain killers is one I identify with although I'm not violent, but it's why I like the movie Seven and Oldboy and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, and even Saw, although thought that wasn't as good, and all other violent movies about revenge and vengeance (which the Asian filmakers do best). Why is it that psycho people care about morals the most? I liked hearing how Cho said (to his roommate) that he had gone to see a girl "to see if she was as cool as she seemed," but "when he looked in her eyes, he saw promiscuity." Oh shit! I wonder if he really saw that, or rather whether it was really there. Dr. Karam will say no, he was mentally illin'. But I wonder ... it always seems to me the psychotics have a few good points. I also dislike debauchery and rich kids, like Cho. It seems like mentally ill people often get into very religious things, and why is that? I wonder if they are open to something, the part of God that is vengeance. Of course the actions are horrible, I'm not saying anyone who was killed by him deserved it, that's crazy. I'm just asking what makes that kind of disorder, and why do I feel sympathy for it? My mom would say because the world is sinful and we need Jesus to forgive and God to judge, and without Jesus and God, we all deserve death and hell. Well, she wouldn't emphasize the death and hell, but the justice of God's judgement and depth of Jesus love.

This weekend I interview at least five more potential roommates. Everyone I meet is okay, but I dread sharing the space. Michelle Hell is helly jelly over the hypothetical new roommate, that means jealous. Isn't that cute? Jealous of the poor sucker who moves in with me and gets to watch me be boring and bored and doing nothing but writing in my journal or sitting on the couch listening to NPR and eating leftover takeout.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

freestyle therapy

Remember when I was debating what I should do about my living situation in 2008, and whether I should continue living with my "current" roomate? Well, since that point in time she has totally betrayed me and is moving out. I have composed many things in my mind that I have to say about it. I wrote a couple on myspace, but I deleted them because she is not completely out of my life yet. This weekend, she's coming with her black slave boyfriend to pick up the rest of her things. Last night I came home and her computer and TV were gone, of course she took the cable router I needed and that she got for me a month or so ago when we were still "friends." MK suggested I vent my feelings into this blog, but I'm uninspired since what I really want is to hurt and humiliate her and she would never read this. Plus, as the week goes on and I tell everyone who will listen about what she did to me, I'm losing momentum.

So you know what? I'm not even going to talk about the ex roomate. Actually this morning I felt the anger pass enough to feel a tinge of my old feeling for her, sympathy and pity. I really don't hope her relationship with her boyfrriend ends in a bad way. When they got together I thought he would be good for her, and I still hope she learns a thing or two, like how to take at least a TINY BIT of responsibility for her actions and words, but her bf would have to stand up to her, which seems unlikely, since his submissiveness is precisely why their friendship works right now. But I'm sure if I got another deranged, phony email from her I would stop feeling sorry again. I'm starting to think she may have severed our relationship because I refused to defer to her and baby her for the first time. Technically, it happened in an email exchange regarding a bounced check, or the possibility thereof because I didn't deposit her rent check right away (by the next day), "like she told me to". Maybe in the past I would have ignored the tone and implications of such a message, agreeing for sake of household peace that she could not be expected to balance her own checkbook.

Angry people, I'm so done with them. I no longer want to tip toe and placate and gently teach and help them. It was such a waste, she was determined to make me hate her. I used to think it was my special talent to please a difficult person, so I have to ask, what was in it for me? Probably the length and relative strength or our living partnership was due to the fact that I was hating myself and depressed, so it seemed like I deserved to live with someone who blamed me and others for all her problems. And hmmm, to be used and dropped by someone with an inferior character who is not even intelligent or mature enough to communicate other than swear words, silent treatment, and leaving without saying goodbye?

Meeting MK was the best thing that ever happened to my heart. I'm supposed to tell her how much she loves me, she said that's my homework. I might get an incomplete though, because I feel somewhat uncomfy with the assignment. But if I hadn't met her I might not even have realized that I deserve a better roomate. Who deserves what? Who owes who? Those are always tricky questions, but I realize now from the bottom of the pit that you can't save everyone, and I'm an (imperfect but) lovable girl.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

dream


MK left for her New Orleans vacation very early this morning. I do not leave the city till tomorrow evening, and will be en route to Atlanta. So although we are not taking a trip together, we are going on mutual, separate trips to the south. I wish I could leave now too. I'm feeling nasty toward co-workers and people who call here, this isn't unusual for me but sometimes the feeling is stronger than others. I think I hide it pretty well though. A few people here, I hate for no reason. One is a mild-faced young man with a short beard and pleasant demeanor. I hated him since the first day he started here, I have no idea why. I'm still nice, of course. I said a travel prayer when Michelle left my apartment this morning, out loud, with her sitting on me in the turtle position. My family used to do travel prayers in the car before we left on a trip, pray for safety and such. If anything happened to Mich though, I really would go insane. I would be like the leftover cowboy in Brokeback Mountain but my life would not go on and I wouldn't have had another wife because I don't need anyone else. I know you have to be prepared, that someone can be taken from you at any point, freak accidents, it's all in the newspaper, but I just really hope God would not do that to me.
Last night I had a dream that I was sleeping with ear plugs in (which I do when sleeping alone) and my roomate came home in a rage. She smashed a wine glass on the wall above my bed and I woke up and could see her yelling but not hear it really. She kept slamming things and went in her room. Instead of telling her that her behavior was inappropriate, which in the dream I realized was the right thing, I was sweet talking her and offering support, I remember saying "so obviously life is hard, but you just have to try." Then Mishy was there and some other people and my roomate was saying she needed to score drugs. And again, in the dream I made a joke about marijuana, but realized I should have told my roomate on no uncertain terms to never talk that way in front of Mich. I felt bad about it. Then I saw Mishy down a hallway or in a doorway, and I motioned for her to come to me, and she did. Then we were kissing, and walking. Then we were going down these steps in a stairwell and it was dark. I was holding her arm. There were a couple shady characters and I thought one might be a dealer so I held her arm tighter and pulled her along a little bit. Then we saw more of those people, so I picked Mishy up like a baby, so she was straddling me in the front, like a front-piggy back. Then we went past one large woman in a bag-like coat who was standing but slumping over and a couple others around her, and I heard Mishy whimper and felt her lightly paw and scratch me with her nails. And I was taking the stairs as fast as I could and then we got to the bottom and I was apologizing for not telling my roomate to never say things like that in front of her, and I was watching her closely to see if she was okay and she was quiet and I was concerned about her. Then later in the dream it seems I had used some kind of drug and I was looking at my eyes in the mirror trying to see about the pupils and worried that Michelle would notice something. There was a lot else going on but I can't remember.
My tummy hurts today. It started hurting during the night, the ulcer feeling, which is not an ulcer I guess but just acid reflux. I know I'm going to Atlanta tomorrow but the weather has kind of bummed me out also. I guess I won't get to go in the swimming pool with my friends. God I feel really angry for no reason. I just don't want to be here, at work. But I don't want to work somewhere else either. I miss Michelle but that's silly, and I'm happy we are doing our own thing and am objectively excited about her trip and my trip. Someday we can stay in a hotel together and I can observe the germ / dirty stranger phobia in person and tease her and roll around in the (magically, inwardly, uncleanably disgusting) hotel bed. Gross I feel depressed.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Pretty brown eyes, curls, clothes, foliage


My future wife (and life?)

First of all, it's a miracle that I'm even writing this. The firewall on this company's computer system makes everything move at a snail's pace and obviously won't open many pages. For some reason it will let me go to craigslist, but I only peruse personals these days if I am extremely, unusually bored and not up to reading War and Peace or any of my usual pastimes. Yes, I have to have pastimes at my job. This is because it's not a real job, I am still majorly stalling on getting a job that requires inspiration and hard work. I should note, this blog entry will has nothing at all to do with this picture of Michelle dressed as a prostitute.


There are other pictures of her this way that I declined to post, and some of them are scorching hot. There are also pictures of me, since I contributed to her friend's video project on prostitution, among other things including drug addiction, street kids, and other glamorous or glamorized problems. I originally titled the above picture "Pretty Woman" but that was just too obvious. I used to love that movie though. I've always been into the idea of saving someone and being saved. Not everyone wants to save and be saved, and this idea of romance can really fuck you over, or it can feel good to enact in small ways.

Anyways, I don't know what this blog entry will be about. Let's see. I'm on page nine hundred and ten of War and Peace. It's at the part where Pierre is poking around near the battlefield and is (I'm guessing) about to see some nasty shit go down. Well, twenty thousand or so men are supposed to die in the upcoming battle. War was very different then than it is now. You really had to be "brave" in a way, rushing at the enemy on foot. So many soldiers were required, and they really killed a lot of them at once, one both sides. It seems like many modern soldiers are in denial about it, like "oh I enlisted but didn't really plan to go to Iraq, and don't want to kill anyone (or be killed)." Maybe that's just what they say until they go there. One similarity I've noticed though is how the soldiers and other contributors to war, both then (early 1800's) and now, are primarily motivated by desire for personal gain in some way. Right now the the government promises help with college tuition, but career advancement is one of the main motivators in War and Peace also. That is pathetic to me and disgusting, which is very judgemental of me and probably ignorant too. But maybe not. Another difference I noticed is how they would march over the whole country to take it over, at least, that's what Napoleon's army did to Russia and other countries. I'm not sure when is the last time that happened, the soldiers really just show up and if they keep marching the country is handed over. I think now you can own a country without being there, by just financially controlling it. Well supposedly that is what America does or has done, and other countries too, the rich ones. England. I don't know who else.

I have decided that I definitely want to be a teacher and so when I am laid off from this office job I will start substitute teaching. As a substitute teacher, I can just watch the kids, I don't have to plan lessons or grade papers. I don't have to teach anything really, I can just help them with their homework, and answer any questions they might have for me.

Also, Mishy and I have been discussing adopting children. Obviously this would happen like ten years from now, maybe eight. She wants black children and I've always been close with the African American people, so am into the idea. We will definitely be adopting American ones, because there are plenty kids here that have no one to love them. Hopefully they won't stop us because we're two mommies. There has to be some way to get a Jaquila and Jamila into our happy home. Of course before we adopt children we have to set up the domestic bliss cohabitation situation, and this subject is somewhat stressful to us both, I think. It's stressful for her because she has other worries on top of it, such as graduating school and finding a job. Also, she's never done it before and neither have I really. I did co-habitate for a couple months with my first girlfriend but I had no backbone during that period and ended up having the small resentments turn into disgust and panic and anxiety attacks so it isn't a good reference for me. I have done much soul searching in my "real" journal, and have realized that there are basically only pros to living with Mishy and no cons. The only con is my sense of fear about it, which on the one hand, I think is a sign that I'm simply not ready, but on the other hand, I wonder if I should challenge the fear? I really don't know. I am talking now about a co-habitation in February 2008, which is when my current lease expires. Well, Michelle and I have stopped discussing the possibility and I believe she is going ahead with the mindset that it will not happen and she'll be finding a different roommate. That's fine, I'm okay not discussing it because I do not feel solid on my position at all. Mostly, I wish the fearful feeling would go away, and I could confidently promise that domestic joy will be mine, and ours, in less than a year. But something holds me back. I feel I should honor that thing, but I don't know what it is? When should you trust an instinct, when question it? I have no doubts that I would be very happy living with Michelle, and no doubts whatsoever that I want to marry her. Even though marriage is not legal, so I will union with her then. My other option (in addition to staying with current roomate or moving in with MK) is finding a totally new roomate, which is scary and which sucks, the more and more I think about it. There are just so many problems with it. One being, if I am away at Michelle's hypothetical apartment, who will take care of Tatiana? And if MK is at my place, will my "new roommate" be annoyed, to have us both there, using the kitchen and living room. Will we have to hide out in my room?? Will Tatiana be confined to the room? IF there are other cats, will she fight with them? But if I stay with my current roommate, I won't be happy either, although it seems the better choice, compared with a stranger. But although I care for my roommate, she is a very angry person, her moods are toxic, and why should I always have to feel on edge and defensive in my own apartment? I know these questions have no answers, and really I don't need to make any decisions until next December or so, eight months away, but I don't like being up in the air on things are important as living situations. Plus I've moved over six times in the past six years and although I don't have a lot of stuff (mostly boxes of books) it's such a hassle. I would like to settle down. I would like to be stable, in one apartment, for at least three or four years! And since I know I want to marry Mish, why shouldn't I start this stable life with her as soon as possible, which is next February? This is not just a casual dating relationship but an engagement (in my mind, and I think in hers too). Oh, how I wish it was all clear to me. So now every couple days I pray about it, and try to relinquish control, and accept all, which is the key, and wait for things to unfold and show me what I should do.

God is the answer

So in love with a very serious social worker



Jimmy Morbid




Leibovitz and Sontag