Everything new is old (everything old is new)

I'm feeling pleasant in the present. I'm not even miserable being at work. I'm just floating along, doing what the other workers do. It helps to leave the building, and I just spent an hour at Duane Reade. Yesterday I went shopping for Michelle and also just stared at stuff in Borders. There is a lot of shopping to be had around these parts, although I don't like crowds or lines. I like to do the zombie-window-shop-shuffle. That means picking up and examining things you're not even interested in, just killing time and preoccupied with something else. But I really feel happy today, haha. In less than an hour I'm going up to Harlem to meet my baby at her work, then we take Metro North to her parents' house for a holiday weekend, including Christmas tree decoration and everything.

simplify it

I really feel like I'm losing touch with reality here. Writing two posts in one day is reserved for when I'm feeling especially agitated or inspired, so I'm trying to work something out here. Although I closed my last entry stating that I have no friends, the truth is I have four friends total in NYC although they are not people I see often. One of them is my ex girlfriend and although I have enjoyed our rekindled friendship, she just pissed me the fuck off!! The Judger. Fuck her! What does she know? She knows nothing. She's more dysfunctional than I am so how dare she judge me and tell me what to do! Ironically, she was criticizing my public writing, i.e my blogs! She doesn't know about this particular blog and I don't write on myspace or friendster anymore, but I could tell she would have liked to know my exact blogger address, so she could criticize me some more! Obviously I hurt my friend's feelings awhile ago with some of my blogs on myspace! I already knew that she never liked my blogs and that she thinks they're "defensive," and she may have also said arrogant! She had a totally warped view of me and my blogs at the time we dated. She was offended by things that weren't malicious at ALL but simple stories or statements. Anything she can find wrong in someone she dates, she's appalled by it, as if she's Jesus, like in her dreams. She's so focused on the other person's flaws because she can't stand her own. That was the breaking point in our relationship too, when she was judging me over my desires to be famous, which she never understood or had compassion for. I know what she thinks of me, and how she judges me, projecting this fucking bullshit onto me! I don't even care that it seems true, her opinion, from this blog alone. I am allowed to write whatever I want, aren't I?! I'm not hiding anything! I might change my mind later or come to a higher understanding of something, but at least my blogs aren't sugar coated crap like hers! Duh I have too much time on my hands. But to tell me I shouldn't let Michelle read certain things? I don't need to protect Michelle from my feelings! But God, maybe I do. If she's right on this, I'm going to be even more upset. Is it true that I should keep certain things to myself? My friend says certain feelings and ideas pass, so it's better to not upset the other. I don't like that philosophy! I have a very strong desire, or perhaps a compulsion, to share and confess everything. I feel like I can't move past a mysterious feeling until I have confessed it. I have always confessed everything. I can't keep a secret. I want to share, I need to. I need somebody to know me and not just have me going through motions and playing a part that is appropriate. Then again recently Michelle told me to work on my impulsivity with sending angry emails. I so rarely do that anymore though! And it isn't the same as a blog. True, why don't I just write it in my private journal? Because I really want her to read it. If I'm in the wrong on any issue, I want to see how, I want her to tell me. But I don't want to suffer alone, that's all. Damn I bet Michelle wishes I would come home in a good mood. Maybe I'll take my friend's type of advice and pretend that I'm fine with the fact of today's misery.

fucking shit up

Well, you can see for yourself Mishy’s reaction to my thoughts and feelings of yesterday. Today I feel sick about it. It makes me not even want to write. I hate the bullshit that comes out of me and doesn’t even make any sense. I want to punish myself but it seems unfair. I’m not a normal person. Today at work everyone is chatting and laughing about the office party and I just feel depressed. It’s funny how different the same things look from a happy or depressed perspective. Everything on the train is sad. The whole city is gray. I have these two options: stay at this job forever or until I commit suicide, or try to become something better and fail. That’s a lose/lose, trapping me. I feel I’m holding Michelle back. She’s not even comfortable and confident on the ship now that I’ve criticized her in certain ways, even if I’ve tried to say all along, these are just my problems. They truly are. I don’t even know where it comes from, or why I feel like a tyrannical child. My old joke goes, fuck the baby. And my mind raises some old feelings of panic in the face of all this, and the feeling of panic makes me fucking panic. I don’t want to feel anxious like Michelle does. I have managed to stabilize myself, partly by holding this non-challenging job. Now the safety is providing me with hatred for myself and this fucking place and I feel the need to escape, as if one more day might be too much to stand. So, now I’ve pushed Michelle away too, when I needed something I couldn’t say or even put my finger on. Am I codependent? I feel I have no sense of self right now, so I hate being apart. Well I did some research and codependency isn’t quite my problem. What is my fucking problem? Then a voice in my head says, “nothing,” and just like that the whole thing could poof into the smoke of my imagination. Everyone knows I have too much time on my hands. But will I be able to handle grad school and teaching? I bet Michelle will want to go to her parents’ house tonight. Fine, let her go. Even though I feel panic and have no friends.

lonely on the internet and worried about death

This morning my friend called me sobbing because her cat was hit by a car this morning and died. This was at her country home in Woodstock, where Wayne, the cat, lived a very full, hunter-cat's life. My friend loved Wayne so much, and Wayne was such a good boy. Once a couple years ago or so I was sleeping out at the country home and Wayne brought me three mice over the course of one night, to kill for me on my pillow. This was horrific but it is a sign of love. I can't believe Wayne died today! It happens all the time, cats dying, but it's too sad for me to really accept. I can't imagine losing my Tatiana, ever. Contemplating death is much scarier when your heart is really feeling the love. In some ways, this is completely new to me. I know I have always had the capability to love, but used to deny and control feelings of dependence. Last night I received a Christmas card from my grandma who wrote about my cousin Keith who died of a brain tumor recently and how she anticipates seeing him in heaven. She also looks forward to seeing Grandpa, and wrote that she hopes the whole Wiens family is there someday. I am scared of anyone in my family dying because that's never happened to me before, but I don't NEED anyone in my family on a daily basis like I need Mishy. And Tati is mine. I'm a good mommy and I am responsible for her wellbeing and happiness, so that is a very deep love. But the one important thing is, now that I'm not alone, I feel I cannot be alone again. I won't be able to stand it again. I don't want it. I can grow like this, I couldn't move like that and just kept repeating myself. The main thing we do is protect ourselves. I didn't start to love because I was ready to, but because somebody I could relate to was showing me how. But every day Mishy sees potentially dangerous clients in bad neighborhoods, and she drives. I think about Wayne getting hit by a car in the country, and I say five thousand prayers per second to please, God, keep Mishy safe.

On another note, I just came from a gynocology appointment. I had to go since it has been around four years and they say it's important albeit highly unpleasant. I went to an Asian lady doctor. She suprised me with a rectal exam as well, and was really pushing in there and telling me to relax, as if. She said she felt something. NOW I have to go BACK, after taking an enema!!? WTF! I've never taken one before. I like the idea of being cleaned out. The doctor said maybe it's poo that she felt and asked if I'm constipated, which I'm not because I never am, but maybe it's my ovaries? I wonder if it could be related to my difficult cramps. I doubt it though. She seemed to have a slight smile when giving me the instructions, like laughing at me? I wonder if I'm being taken advantage of or humiliated in some way? Should I do the follow up?

I also called Hunter College today and asked when they would send the fucking letter telling me if my life is moving forward in the one direction or whether I'm as stagnant and pathetic as I feel. They said I could expect an answer in a week or so. I just want to be doing something useful. But I don't like the idea of being away from Mishy more often when the evening classes commence. Fuck it, chronic discontent.... etc....perfectionism is something I'm shitting out until I'm clean of it because it's waste, for sure.

Hell House

Last night MK and I watched the movie Hell House, a documentary about these losers in Texas who create a haunted house of “sins.” It was quite upsetting, as these “Christians” have the most infantile, shallow, petty conceptions of God possible, and are judgmental and self righteous in every way. They have taken a complex, mysterious, ancient text or collection of texts – the bible – and simplified it to fit their culture and their own (pathetic) ideas of right and wrong. I know most “Christians” do this, but the Hell House crew take it to an infuriating extreme. They trivialize pain and indulge their fantasies of painful situations so that their haunted house is a grotesque manifestation of hypocrisy. The create the following theatrical scenes: rape, abortion, a gay man dying of AIDS, incest, and more – with the point of each being the moment where the character either chooses Jesus/God or rejects him. The characters all reject God, that is, they express anger at God for allowing them to suffer, and are immediate banished to Hell, where the devil taunts and torments them “for eternity.” At the end of the haunted house, the visitors have the chance to pray and accept God. Unfortunately, they scared thousands of ignorant Texas kids into “accepting” God in this way. These types of evangelical “Christians” often talk about there being a war in this world between god and Satan, and how they want to “win souls for Christ.” These are also the same people who usually support real wars. They really don’t know anything about God, or Jesus.

The only thing I know about God, and I’ve said this before, is that God is indefinable and incomprehensible. It is impossible for the human mind to wrap itself around God. The western, scientific mind doesn’t want a mystery like this, but eastern religions have the right approach. All religions have some truth, and it’s good to search, to try to understand. But in the end, there are no answers, because we are too small, and the big picture is too big.

They are laying people off at my job again. I may or may not be laid off. If I am, I will try to take it as an opportunity. One door closes, another door opens. I will try to work as a substitute teacher, which I didn’t plan to start until next fall. In a way, I hope this happens. But money is a big worry. Everyone is worried about money. I have a hard time accepting that part of life – in tarot cards it is the pentacle. I resent that each person has to find a way to create financial and material security for herself and her family, especially when that security depends so much on outside factors, like the economy. But I’ve become stronger over the years, so maybe the struggle is good. This job I have now, it’s not a problem if I’m depressed, so I feel less anxious also. But then again, I have no real challenges or goals here, so that in itself is depressing. I still didn’t get the letter telling me whether or not I am accepted to graduate school. Everything feels frozen until I know about that. I don’t care if I’m poor, but I need to be able to pay my rent and buy food. That’s it! I love my home with Mishy. I look forward to going home every night. I hope I don’t become overwhelmed with anxiety and unable to be good company when my comfortable routine (this job) ends. I would hate to have her stressed over my finances. I want to be a support and great wife, not a burden or someone on the edge of despair and panic.

Where I am, right now

It is official. I’m not in a band anymore. Everyone says I did the right thing, and I can come back to music later. But can I? Is that really realistic? I feel so fucking sick about this. On the way to work I listened to a jam from practice and one song off the demo. I feel like the quitter part of me has triumphed, the lazy part that never wanted to go to practice or hang around in bars waiting to play, and wanted to go home as soon as possible afterwards. And I worry that I’m fooling myself by thinking that I’m capable of doing any other job besides the pointless one I have now. Could I really be a teacher? Could I work that hard? I feel I have betrayed a part of myself, by quitting the band. It seems like a real tragedy. There I had a talented group of musicians who liked me and we worked well together, and a member besides myself, who did everything: networking and setting up shows, managing the myspace profile, everything I was too lazy or anxious to do. I miss jamming. Last night I would have been at practice, and of course I was happy to go home, instead, to my wife. But a part of me was angry at myself, and still is upset. Why couldn’t I do it all? Of course I have to try graduate school, and to get my career going in that direction. I CAN’T work here forever. My salary is capped out, and I get bored and depressed doing nothing with my brain. The last show we did, in Albany, was one of the best! I received so many positive comments, and one person telling me how special our sound and dynamic was, and he said “never let them go. Never break up.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him or even fully admit to myself it was my last show. In some ways, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to go. But knowing the musical quality was appreciated made everything feel worth it. And at the point I decided to quit the band, we weren’t getting any positive feedback! But aren’t I weak for needing that? It seems I’m too weak for everything. Why did I quit before I even started classes? Obviously I wanted to quit. I didn't even try to do both. Why? And will the same thing that made me quit the band make me quit graduate school or teaching when it gets hard? Ugh, what the fuck.

I’m sorry this issue has to cast a shadow on the fact that Michelle moved in, and truly I’m happy to have her with me in a daily, permanent way. I felt I couldn’t stand NOT having her living with me any longer. She seemed to be missing me less since starting her job, and me missing her more, but I know that we love each other the same. Life events make the love take different shapes in how it feels. So her stuff is all in my apartment now, and I love it. The many, many pairs of shoes, the furniture that was once in her childhood bedroom, all the books on suicide, drug addiction, borderline disorder, the DSM, I’m Okay You’re Okay, Prozac Nation, By Her Own Hand, the behavioral workbooks….they’re all available for my education now….the wardrobe that I’m taking advantage of along with the shoes (today it's purple kangaROOS), and the belts. She is the cutest girl ever. She had dinner ready when I got home last night! We are setting things up very nicely. She is working in bad neighborhoods though, and I am concerned about how the signs of drug activity affect her. She said she saw ten empty heroin bags on the street yesterday in Harlem and Queens. She only picked one up and then threw it down again rather than drool over the crumbs. Last night I had a dream that she came to the door of my house (some house) and was asking me to look up this map on the internet. She walked by me quickly but I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to get a look in her face. She evaded my eyes but I caught them and saw the little pupils, which were almost translucent or purple, and I knew she was high. I started yelling at her, “You’re so fucking stupid,” and she became immediately defensive and walked away from me, and I recalled that I was acting like her first girlfriend, Amy. She was going to leave, but then started telling me about what a great day she’d had. She went to an amusement park and said the roller coaster was amazing. Then our friends Alicia and Jessica came over and I realized they all did it together. I started yelling at them, “How could you! You’re supposed to keep my girlfriend safe!” And they just laughed at me, and Alicia said, “Why? We don’t care if we die. JJ has OD’d in the bathroom a couple times before.” And I started hitting them, and I wondered if maybe I should just give in and do some too, but I knew it wasn’t right. Then I hit them with red dye on my hands and got it all over their shirts, but they just laughed, and said, “Remember when she tried to hit your mom?” about Alicia’s mom. Then I woke up from this nightmare and my baby was sleeping next to me, but I told her the dream, and then I went to the bathroom but I tripped on something on the way back and hurt my toe, so then I was wide awake and smoked a cigarette. The dream was so real, and horrible. I have more to say, but I should get to work here. (mindless work for a disturbed mind).

Mamouns