Thursday afternoon saw me at the Oakland airport. I have never picked up anyone by myself before, but I was proud because I did not get lost in the parking lot. After a bit of confusion, found Ian, and returned to Benicia for sleep and SGC2C.
Friday, we went to Jorden's party (and I wore the glam as hell J Lo earrings Rae sent me, holla!) Thanks to Laura, George, and Ben for letting us crash, and thank-you Jorden for the invite. I finally got to meet Jasmine in person, and Sophie and I accidentally ended up pushing her into the bathtub when we were hiding from who we thought was the cops. Shortly after she was shoved in the bathtub, she got out, only to be forced into a closet with Sophie and I by Marcia. When it was discovered the cops weren't there and it was just a late party guest, Marcia poked her head in and said, "Hello, scare alert!" Admitted to Adri that I was Officer Hannon, at which she laughed, and granted me privileges to do it anytime. Was very good fun... was even more hilarious watching Laura pour soda on her floor and yelling, "You think that spill's a big deal now? How about now?!"
Returned to Benicia Saturday afternoon, and promptly fell asleep. Woke up, had dinner, watched a whole bunch of Home Movies. I find it decidedly disturbing that I still want to be just like Coach McGuirk when I grow up.
That pretty much brings everything up to speed. That and the fact that my roommate mysteriously managed to get hold of I, Robot somehow and I am supremely jealous. Will Smith is definitely one of my idols, and I can't figure out why. I would like to pretend it's because we're somehow related, but seeing as how I am so pale and he is so not, the likelihood of him being one of my relatives is slim. I think I am going to start referring to him as 'Uncle Smith' and bringing him up whenever possible in daily conversation.
The end of this month is going to be a turning point for sure. I'm going to be applying for jobs all over the place and selling my soul for a lot less than it's worth so that I can make rent and pay off a debt of $800 that I didn't even realise I had. More stress, and more things being brought down to the wire is the way that I function best. I did in school, I did this past week, and I do at the present moment. I don't feel weighed down too much anymore. Been drinking and smoking less... on my way to being somewhat responsible and functional. Also, have finally got it through my head that a party is far more fun when it is earned.
George told a really bizarre joke about the short bus children, and how clapping wins them ice cream. In the joke, the child that gets the ice cream ends up smashing it on his forehead. When asked why, George replied, "Well, because he's retarded..."
Which means that now I will probably associate retarded children with ice cream for a good four or five years, and will perhaps never be able to walk into a Cold Stone again without thinking of George.
His joke reminded me of one that I have held dear since fourth grade, told to me by Christina Reyes:
One winter, the police force was short staffed. Officer Joe decided to offer his out of work friend Dan a job with the force in order to lessen the work load for everyone. On his first day, Officer Dan brought in hot chocolate and donut holes. One of the older officers smirked at him and said, "Everyone knows that cops eat DONUTS and drink COFFEE, not donut HOLES and HOT CHOCOLATE!" All of the cops in the station began to snicker. Then, Officer Joe said, "Don't make fun of him, he's my friend."
Best. Joke. Ever.
Things are beginning to be limitless again, proof only of the fact that life is a gigantic circle and history, by hook or by crook, will repeat itself time and time again. Mostly, that is not something I mind because if history repeats itself, the good will always follow the bad, and when the bad comes again, we can look forward again to the good. Dancing in fleece sweaters, riding bikes, and a smile. The dark underbelly can be forgiven and forgotten as long as there is always room to let go, as long as there is always a corrosive to shift the tough glues that bind us all to things we have been unwillingly stuck-- tongue to the flagpole, Tina to Ike, whatever it is... there is always some way to free yourself. Kristy Yamaguchi taught me that long ago and I have never forgotten it.
I'm not going to let myself take music for granted the way I have been doing lately anymore. I have also discovered my source of greatest shame: indulgence in the past. I pore over all of my old diaries looking for things that still apply... and since I have long since lost a lot of my written word to moving and storage and thief, I am forced to examine old posts which proves to be most interesting as I am able to see what other people, however tangible, have had to say to it. I do this all the time-- reading old things over to see what's valuable and what's not. A sick sort of note-taking. Ian's somewhere between waking and sleep and I am wide awake, looking at things I wrote years ago. I feel ashamed. 'Why do we keep journals if not to examine our own filth?' Anne Sexton said (at least, I think it was her) and in that sense, it terrifies me when I hear him stir because he's catching me picking apart all of my old filth. I can't help but be interested in personal history-- in timelines. I'd rather hear stories told by people who lived the Depression, the 70's, than read about it in some glossed-over impersonal version in a history book. My own history, the well-documented and personal history of others has such a magnetic force behind it that I cannot help but seek it out and do my best to sap it. It has been a long time since I have been told secrets, and the hunger for such seemingly trivial knowledge is almost completely overwhelming. I think I want to learn Russian.
The expression 'take your own advice' always irked me until I finally learned how to do it.