no such thing as security

The other night I dreamed that I had HIV. I was thinking about how it wasn't that big of a deal, but comparing my life perspective from what it had been formerly, when I didn't have it. Also, there was a part in the dream where humans had to be recharged, like batteries, via blood donation. I needed someone's blood, so while this lady was sleeping I put an IV in her hand and connected myself to it. When she awoke, I felt afraid of her anger, and I assured her that my blood was clean. I don't remember anything else from the dream, unfortunately. The truth is, I probably have Hep B because Mich has it and we got sick with all the symptoms around the same time last spring, and then she was diagnosed. Maybe I don't have it though. I am going to get blood work done in a couple weeks. I have an appointment. I guess I'll find out and I suppose it's good to know one way or the other. There's not much you can do though, if you do have it.

I got acupuncture today. Slept for over an hour there. They are so nice at the Brooklyn Acupuncture Clinic and I'm so glad it's only a couple blocks away.

I have been wanting to write about the economic crisis, but don't have the energy right now. My opinions and feelings on the matter are different than those of most people, I think. My whole thing is, I think external circumstances are entirely separate from true happiness. Most people seem to think the whole point of life is to get enough stuff so that they can feel secure and happy. I don't think that point ever comes. Sure, it's nice to have stuff. The happiness never lasts though, people want more. They compare themselves to everyone who has more. I think it's just important to have a roof over your head, running water, sanitation, health care, and affordable, healthy food. Most of the things people are having to give up right now, they don't need. I compare what I have to people in third world countries or people in concentration camps. And I figure if some of those people can find inner happiness, then I certainly can. It's a spiritual answer that we need. I think security is an illusion, and that good things could come out of all this. After all, it's only during periods of palpable insecurity that we finally turn to god. I feel bad for people who are living in poverty and who stand to lose even more... their jobs and homes. I do. But I think true freedom and happiness can come out of losing everything, if we turn to god. You know, if you have read other parts of this blog, that I do not mean god like the god of any particular religion.

Right now, Mishy is sleeping and I am half watching C.R.A.Z.Y, a French Canadian film. It's pretty good, but I'm kind of bored. There is a gay character in this film. Of course, the character's dad hates "fags" and "faries." You know, most people get old and they are just unable or unwilling to change or open their minds to new ideas. I hope that no matter how much the world changes in my lifetime, I remain open to it and allow my old ideas to die off like the leaves in autumn. We are so committed to the idea of "I." But "I" encompasses so much more than who we think we are. We are connected to the great unconscious which encompasses all the "I's." This is what I believe anyway. Who knows what's really true?

Married to Hellish, still me

Hellish is one of Michelle's nicknames. Michelle Hell. Today I am feeling sad and anxious, but I am trying to clear a small globe of space within myself where there are no thoughts and there is no time. However, it is snowing inside the globe, so I don't know. I was wrong about having therapy yesterday, and thank god I checked my calender before going to her office. I'm definitely not good with dates, appointments, and details of that type. Anyways, this morning I started crying while I was waiting outside Pathmark for Michelle to come out of the clinic. It felt good. It feels good to let it out. Reading this book, "the perks of being a wallflower" is strange because in many ways I can relate to the character and in other ways no. Like Charlie, I know I need to participate more. It would make me happier. Watching tv is not participation. But unlike Charlie, I do not love everyone. I really struggle with love. I mean, at my darkest moments I think I don't love anyone. But I want to. I want to feel connected with others. I'm finishing the book, and Charlie is talking about his friends being so excited for prom and graduation. I was so incredibly detached during that period of time, I can't even remember it. Everything inside me that should be reaching out to others, empathizing, feeling connected, is damaged. So, I feel very alone, even sometimes when I'm with Michelle. I hate that. It was way worse with other people, you know I would have actual panic attacks in their presence, just from knowing they felt something toward me that I couldn't reciprocate or even access. There is more I'd like to say about this topic especially with reference to recent issues and events, but I cannot. So this is it. Just a little check in, hello, I'm out here, are you? I'm trying to tell myself that it's okay if I feel alone because I'm really not. Sometimes being on the subway can snap me out of this because I feel connected to the other passengers. Today, I decided not to put on headphones, for this reason... but it didn't really work. Like, I knew all of us were feeling the same thing, annoyance about delays and the mugginess and wetness of snowy coats and boots... but I doubted that these other people felt how I feel in general. They might. The manifestation of depression as boredom? There is this girl on myspace who has a quote: "I'm never bored" or something. How is that possible? It bothers me. I wish I could just go home to bed.

the perks of being a wallflower

Hello everyone. I am currently reading this book for my Young Adult Lit course at Hunter, which started last night, and this book has inspired me to write something here. I even feel temped to write like "Charlie," especially since I tend to unconsciously imitate voices that I like. It seems like Charlie is a girl but supposedly it's a boy.

My classes are okay. Besides YAL, I am taking a class on literacy. The literacy class has some very interesting, smart people in it, including a Jamaican man who is studying to be a math teacher, who is also a Christian, and he explained that learning math is learning to think, and it should not be taught in a hierarchy, and that he is just as happy teaching from the Bible as from a math book. There was also a girl named Monica who said she had wanted to be a professional dancer and dance teacher, but she had a bad accident, so she ended up working in the "entertainment business" for ten years. She described the industry as very shallow, which is why she is going into teaching. There were other stories... we told our stories. I felt very shy and probably came across as crazy when I spoke, but at least I made sure to look at my peers rather than exclusively at the teacher, and nobody else managed that. In my other class, YAL, there are some dummies- folks who don't listen and who ask the question that the professor just finished explaining the answer to.

Well, this is all probably boring to you. But maybe this will not be boring: lately I have been having explicitly heterosexual dreams. In the first one that I remember, an older black man was going to pay me for my services. As it was my first time selling it, I was pretty nervous. He gave me 75 dollars upfront. I thought that I should ask for a solid 100. Rather than demand it, I voiced several disclaimers to my request, "Well I haven't actually ever done this before so I don't know what I'm doing..." I said, "And I'm not sure what exactly you want..." The next thing I know, I was straddling him in a room full of people, including family members, but he was below me and out of sight. It actually felt really good and I was trying to be discreet, but all of sudden he started making me bounce, so I said stop, others could see! I was laughing though. That was the end of it, I climbed off. My other heterosexual dream has lingered with me all day today, from last night. I don't know what this dream was about. It was full of action, driving around in a jeep, fights, driving through these tunnels (supposedly underground nyc) that had been cleaned up by the government, and all these kids were crying because the graffiti was washed off. There was some special significance to that. In another part of the dream, I was performing on stage in an outdoor stadium, in a very slutty outfit (featuring my thong), kind of like Britney Spears. I knew I wasn't singing the best, but I was so stage-frightened that I was happy to even remember the words. The point of all this came down to some guy that showed up repeatedly in the dream. He was white and somewhat bald, perhaps, and maybe named Bill. He was a tough guy and he was getting revenge on people and stuff. I realized that I was in love with him. It was a very happy, exciting feeling, and like I said, I can still feel it now. Oh! I just remember a fragment of one other similar dream of love, except in this dream, the object was a thirteen year old boy. He was holding me in a swimming pool and he was a psychologist.

Well, I have therapy tonight so perhaps I should share my dreams with Val!? Unfortunately, I have other, more serious issues to cover. I did something that nobody would approve of, including Val... and I have to admit it. Why do I care if she judges me? That's it, I don't. She will probably just laugh anyway. I like when I make people laugh.

I also like that my work has given me a brand new printer of my very own... right here at the reception desk. It's nice. It prints in color and it is also a scanner, but not a fax. Hopefully by them giving this to me it means that I won't get laid off anytime too soon. You never know though. If I do get laid off, I'm going to try to get work as a tutor. I think teenagers would be happy to have a tutor like me, or a teacher like me, especially when so many adults in the education field are disgusting in terms of aesthetics and hygiene. One of my peers in the literacy class (who was sitting next to me) is the perfect example.. "David" the dwarf has ear wax, bad breath, dandruff, black heads, greasy hair... just disgusting overall. OF COURSE he's an English teacher.

Heart of Darkness

http://sites.google.com/site/sfwk444/Home/heartofdarkness_rough.mp3?attredirects=0

rough, not final. pretty though, huh.

two goth gals have a blast

Sunday morning, Michelle and I planned to go watch the sunrise from Greenwood Cemetary, scheduled for 7:16am. We went on bicycles. When we got outside, it was snowing. I remained determined although Mich could not ride her bike very well. We switched bikes and that helped. Also, I took the backpack, which had both Kryptonite locks in it, even though I told her not to bring them. We missed sunrise because it was light out by the time we got to 7th avenue. The snow was beautiful. We decided to turn back after getting some croissants. When we were two blocks from home, Mich said she was excited to get back into our cozy bed, and she started biking faster. We were going down a slight hill, and she couldn't stop when she got to the bottom. I was behind her. She tried to turn and the bike flipped onto its side. I didn't think she was really hurt until I saw the blood on the snow. It was also on her clothes, coming out of a gash in her chin. I was afraid it would need stitches because she doesn't have health insurance yet. She pressed her sweatshit hood against it while I walked the bikes home. She was crying like a little girl. I felt like it was my fault she got hurt.
This picture was taken on Saturday night at the Bell Room. It was our first time in there, despite living only a couple blocks away. We went to hear The Mugs play. They draw quite the crowd these days! I wasn't really feeling any of it though, and we left early.

Paula

http://sites.google.com/site/sfwk444/Home/paula_mix1.mp3?attredirects=0

This is the song I wrote yesterday. I wrote it for Michelle, and for Paula.

End of Game

I have been depressed since last Friday and I was starting to think it would never pass. It came for no reason and in spite of a productive recording/jamming session (last Thursday night). By Saturday afternoon I broke my sobriety because I suddenly "realized" that I would never feel better (naturally). Last night in therapy I started crying when I said it would help a lot if I could think back to a time of being happy before I had ever tried or used any alcohol or drugs. The truth is, I have been intermittently depressed since I was 12 years old, and dammit I'm sick of feeling that way! I so so so so am sick of it. Michelle is sick of being depressed too. She says that achieving great happiness takes hard work, positive self talk, mantras and such. Mantras have been very helpful to me in the past. But really, my depression just lifted, and why? Because I just finished writing a song that I think is good and I'm gonna record it on Thursday. But that's not a secure happiness. For one thing, it's vaguely tied to the notion that other people will hear it and appreciate it. But when Michelle praised the last song I wrote with Mark, I only thought, "Yeah but that's over and done with, therefore it means nothing. What's next?" Happiness can only ever be the anticipation of a glory that will not be had. And by happiness, I mean mania. Well, not always... not always mania. If I could feel manic all the time I would be in heaven! There is no way I'm going to avoid feeling depressed, naturally. It's in my brain, and I don't think antidepressant medications help very much. I really don't think the so-called hard work will pay off either. A real, true spiritual awakening is also unlikely (for instance, if I should be like Siddhartha and let go of the idea of happiness) since I'm generally ungrateful and miserable despite many comforts and blessings that the lord has bestowed upon me. You know, it's a good thing that even if I can't solve this problem (via enlightenment, nirvana, letting go of the self, etc.) it will resolve itself when I die. But will I then just be reborn with the same problems? I don't want to come back here and be just as miserable as before! I want to let go in this life! It seems impossible though, and I can tell that I'm on the total wrong track most of the time. Everything that matters to me is the wrong thing! I can't meditate! I can't concentrate! I'm bored! Everything sucks! I hate my fucking landlord! I hate my job (meanwhile I'm lucky to have one)! What's the point.

The Big Dreamers get back to dreaming

Hello! I am only writing to inform you that my recording / jam session last night was great! We recorded three songs- one is finished and one will be scrapped, most likely. We also recorded three jams, with Mark playing bass and me on the keyboard. It was so fun! I like that Mark is such a hard worker and we don't waste any time. He doesn't want to just hangout and bullshit, and we don't take breaks. Perhaps my ten years of piano lessons were not for nothing! I can no longer play anything classical, but I know my way around the keyboard. I like it because, unlike singing, I can immediately translate melodic and rhythmic ideas into sound- rather than needing to figure out the words to fit the sounds (which I usually do on my own time). This is what jazz singers do when they scat, but I can't or won't do that in front of people. Bee bop a do bop. My voice has improved so much since I started using the neti pot, cut down to three cigs per day, and quit smoking weed. I can breathe! Singing doesn't feel like such hard work anymore. What's more, yesterday I ran two blocks and I barely got winded! I'm totally getting into better shape. I left Mark's apartment feeling quite optimistic about everything. Of course, when winter break is over and I go back to school, I will have a hard time balancing everything, but I have to make it work. I'm not going to try to figure it all out right now. Everything that's meant to be will be.

perfect

i am nervous about recording tonight even though it's no big deal. we are just going to lay down some ideas. i have some good ideas. but i get sick of things so fast. i might like it tonight and be humiliated tomorrow.

the process

When I'm listening to a track and trying to write lyrics, I feel like a girl who is watching double dutch jump ropes spinning and waiting for the right moment to hop inside. It's more complicated than that because there is the melody, which cannot by represented by the rhythm of jump ropes, but this is the best analogy I can come up with. I'm still writing with Mark, afterall. He is willing to work without having to meet for "band practice" and the pace is largely up to me. He's creative and flexible, and he has equipment in his apartment. So, we have a date for this Thursday evening. I wonder why I don't/can't write about political situations or anything other than weird, dark, obsession type lyrics? On facebook I listed some rules that I adhere to when writing (and that I wish other people would follow), so I'm not going to re-list them here. I'm really just avoiding working on a track that is difficult... it's hot, but for some reason I can't jump into it. I keep starting it from the beginning and listening for the open space that works with the other melodies. Nothing seems to work. I'm going to keep trying though.

Regarding my personal life and family, it seems I have cut off contact with my parents as of this morning. I resort to this strategy when the person/people I'm dealing with make me feel crazy. You make someone feel crazy by being crazy- by invalidating and denying their feelings and experiences. I must be really angry because I'm feeling like I don't ever want to talk to them again. What's the point? It's always strained (for me), it takes so much effort... it requires the ability to act real without being real (fake). I'm sick of it. One of the things I like best about Michelle is that she has never made me feel crazy. Even when I know I'm acting crazy, she says that my behavior or words are understandable with respect to the circumstances, my issues or my personality.