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11.30.2001
I'm curious what people will discover this entry here. This one that I have no link to other than the previous entry's "moving on" link.
I feel pride in thinking up such a scheme.
Do you ever feel, even if it's only for a second, that maybe you really are a loser? That maybe, just maybe . . . you can't make friends for a very obvious reason? I have friends. Kristi, Trudi. That's about it really. (I feel pathetic). I have a hard time understanding what it is that I'm supposed to do with these friends. I love both of them. They both make me smile, they are calm, they are collected, they are so utterly different in conversation but both such great listeners and relaxers. I don't understand what my problem is.
Reading Jen's diary today, I got to thinking about "the single life." You know . . . there's something exciting about reading the life of a person who is single. Her story is one that makes me sad and angry and feel her hurt, but the future seems appealing in a sick way. What keeps me from living that life while I am happily in love with someone? What is it? What makes me feel somehow obligated to spend time with him every single day? What keeps me from going out and doing the groups and writing in cafes and seeing weird movies he wouldn't be interested in? What's keeping me from going to the museum or the planetarium (except for money . . . duh). What is it? It's me. It's some lack of motivation to get off my ass and actually do something for which I can feel great. Kristi and Trudy would love to do these things with me. They love having friends, a life, being social. So why don't I call them? Why do I complain and mope and whine and continue to sit here feeling like I must be a loser?
Because it isn't necessary. Because all I need is comfort in company too feel okay and happy and content. Jon is my company. JPR will get here and she will be my company. Why use effort when company is here effortlessly? I need a friend with motivation. With drive. Naturally, however, this is contingent upon them liking me enough to act on that motivation and direct it toward me.
I was wondering if I might not like getting a part-time holiday job at a bookstore. Nothing big like Barnes and Noble, but maybe something small. Private. Something that says, "Organize the shelves, be nice to the customers, and read any book you want: but don't write in it or fold the corners." I'd love a little job like that. I wonder if I can find one. Oh! I hope I can find one! It would feel so fantastic to have a little job like that. Oooooooers. I am feeling so incredibly inspired. Something easy, sort of intellectual (it's books!), something rewarding in the sense that I'll get paid to be around books and perhaps be able to read these books!
Jon too is in this little funk. I wonder how he'd feel about a little part time job like that. There is the down side however (because everything has a downside; see how fast I can do this?): I'd have to work weekends. I love my weekends with Jon too much to give them up. I love them. I have so much fun just wandering around, wearing our PJs until two when we decide we'll walk to the photo store or the video game store that sells DVDs for ten dollars. I enjoy thinking the mall would be a fantastic diversion or driving on the thruway to look at the outlet malls. I'd hate to give that time up, I think. I've grown to liking them. Up until last "semester," when I was a student, I had to work weekends and it truly did kind of suck. Half enjoying a day; then having to leave. Reminds me of a Nields song: "so while I'm here can we pretend I won't be leaving soon. And have a happy ever after afternoon." *smile* Great song. But you know. I've felt that I need my own independence. Jon was practically an only child. He has two sisters, but the one he seems to relate to in a more sibling-y way is eight years younger than he was. I get the impression he was alienated from his middle sister and so I consider him--characteristically, I mean--as an only child. Perhaps he likes the solitude that provided him, or perhaps he grew used to it. I hate solitude. I hate not having company, even if the person is in the next room. In fact, the only solitude I love is when I can be in my room reading or cutting out pictures, making a collage--but knowing the entire time that someone is sharing that vicinity with me. Perhaps this bookstore job would be good. And if not: I can always quit.
Friends. Readers. Writers. Groups. Company. How do I find these things? I once had a theory about my life. Somehow, I thought, I was blessed. I would never work up to something, never make out a plan. Choosing colleges? No. I waited until something came to me. Just smacked me. After all, I came to UR for an interview three days before classes started. I just told him how badly I wanted to go to school and without transcripts, he accepted me. A job after college? Easy. I went to human resources, said I want a job as an editor or something. She said, "One was posted today!" Easy. Now, though. Now I need to make choices. I have to do something. I need a new job. I need more fun. I need a spark of some sort to pull me together. What the hell!?
I don't think that this is depression. I think it's a bonus. A strange melancholy sort of bonus.
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