What an interesting weekend.
And what an intense day.

Today, I finally finished the 6-Feet Under series i.e. I spent the whole day crying. Actually, after the third-to-last episode, I had cried so much that I had to rope my mom into watching a children's movie with me (Despicable Me, which was okay but nothing much although I spilled Diet Coke all over the cashier and register). Then I went home and watched the last two episodes and continued to weep my wretched heart out.

So.Incredible. And very wretched-heart wrenching.

Friday, I hung out with N when she finally got here... after her long bus ride and after me extreme-cleaning, gardening, and walking Herald. For the artwalk, I had some work printed and a little bit turned out good (the close-ups) but mostly I realized that Bville sports a lot of people who run by the Jinx space looking for wine before the awesome music show at 11. Plus my stuff feels silly even though I sold a little bit of it (to friends). Ah well. Sometimes I wonder anyways if my brains are within a rapidly decreasing substrate of my conscious...

Regardless, hanging out with N was good. She is herself, and now I feel crappy and horrible for forsaking her towards the end. I think some part of me had just registered her as being Gone Gone Gone, like life. Like I had spent too much time panicking, then too much time trying to connect with help, then too much time grieving too soon. But she was herself, present and here in WA. We went to the hot tub after the evening was spent and she told me, among other discussion points, that she just doesn't trust anyone anymore. And my thought was... like herself. And everyone else. I don't mean it as a judgment but when you can't trust yourself, who is there left to trust? My instinct was to say... not even me? But I didn't say it because of course. I was glad that I didn't act in self-defense: after everything I did... after everything I felt... after everything I wrote... after x y and z. I guess I understand, and can live with her not trusting anyone. But I hope she knows what I never before did, that love strange creature unheard wistful bird is still there, despite some mutual distrust. She can distrust me, with me still being true as a friend. I guess I'm used to it now.

And true as a person who is not just N's friend. I also visited with cc, who is rather preggars and super-happy. Made me happy to see that. And saw S, which was nice but maybe alot all at once. I got into a 'squabble' with S over the past, which I wish (both of us apparently) wasn't so present in my life. Sometimes I feel like my brain is floating with names of ex-girlfriends and ex-friends and ex-events and ex-hopes and ex-poorme's and ex-dreams and ex-daydreams. And I don't know how to flush the brainpan. But I'd like to believe it possible. New thoughts. Newness. Not listening to the static, as the best show ever would tell me in between me crying my face off and wondering about my story and my friends and loves and deaths and etc.

Tomorrow, I'm going to start a new Write-A-Thon. Me alone unless. I'm going to write a page a day for the next 101 days, and I'll post a sentence from the page each day. If I'm away from the Internet, then I'll post when I get back, but a page a day it is. Grannie, E, and A... you'll hold me to it. Give me grief if I don't at least do this. And, A, I doubt you'll ever like anything I ever write, but still, I'm writing it with you as my whip-cracker.

I've got other to-do's too... class planning, trip going with S who makes me gnash teeth sometimes but hopefully it's a new page, N re-befriending, eventually counseling whatever that means or allows for, and crossing my fingers over politics, tea-parties, Afghanistan, California, the borders, and so forth.

P.S. Herald: old soul (above) or young soul (description from a friend who visited)? Both seem good.

Labels: WriteAThon2