Logic Using Ginger Haired Girl
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Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in the "yourgingergirl" journal:
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06:09 pm
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Still wandering about aimlessly...
Last night in an alcohol fueled haze I talked loudly with my significant other about how it seems we don't have many friends. Oh we know people, but not many real "friends". You remember friends, right? Those give and take relationships where you & that other person share some common interests or goals or some shit?
I started mentally cataloging my "friends".
For example, 2 are bona fide crazy. As I refer to them as "Crazy (insert name)". My friends "a" and "k" seem to disappear for weeks and months at a time. "J" is in love, and well that will never leave time to talk. "L", "S", "C" & "M" all live in other places not easily drivable to for a visit. Then there are "the friendly acquaintences" who will remains letterless who play background roles I suppose.
I'm alone & lost sometimes with no one to talk to who makes sense. My head hurts. I don't want to talk about your baby or shoes for fuck's sake. Ugh. Never ending.
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05:08 pm
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All you need is love?
So been thinking a lot about that overused word "Love"...
Does it lose it's meaning the more you use it?
"Why Buffy, I LOVE those shoes!" or "I love you & don't want to think about breathing without you."
At work there are these giant iced cookies shaped like lips (I soo want to give them out at a drag queen festival - they are too perfect). What do these have to do with love? Nuthin...
If you tell someone you love them everyday, does it lose it's intensity? Does it end up becoming like turning the lights off when you leave a room? Automatic? Thoughtless?
If you don't hear it everyday, do you just assume that they love you? Or that they are complacent & content?
Or is there a thin third option? Where you are content, but still have deep intensity?
Just curious my little muggles...
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11:07 pm
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wake up wendy, smell the coffee....
So I sat in the break-room of my part-time job talking to a manager who makes so little money working for this multi-national corporation that she cannot afford her housing costs and health insurance. She & I came to realization that she might just be better off on welfare & working an under the table child care job. I couldn't help but think that the working poor are just the more honest among us.
I think I have it too good. I need more perspective. I'm a spoiled brat. She's afraid to get sick. I'm afraid of what I'm supposed to say to make her feel better.
I'm going to bed....
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01:05 am
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I'm tired...
Tired of working all the time. *yawn*
And tired of life being so damn expensive.
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11:18 pm
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Your daily dose of U2...
Orignal Of The Species
Baby slow down
The end is not as fun as the start
Please stay a child somewhere in your heart
I’ll give you everything you want
Except the thing that you want
You are the first one of your kind
And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
And I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want the lot of what you got
And I want nothing that you’re not
Everywhere you go you shout it
You don’t have to be shy about it
Some things you shouldn’t get too good at
Like smiling, crying and celebrity
Some people got way too much confidence baby
I’ll give you everything you want
Except the thing that you want
You are the first one of your kind
And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want the lot of what you got
And I want nothing that you’re not
Everywhere you go you shout it
You don’t have to be shy about it, no
And you’ll never be alone
Come on now show your soul
You’ve been keeping your love under control
Everywhere you go you shout it
You don’t have to be shy about it
Everywhere you go you shout it
Oh my my
And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
I kneel ‘cos I want you some more
I want you some more, I want you some more…
Thanks to u2.com :)
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11:13 pm
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*yawn* I haven't forgotten..
about this little place. This silent emptiness that I type into. The one sided conversation that wraps around my head like a turban.
The people I work with, these sick, poor people, there's no way to help them. There's no finding a balm to their sore. I'mtired of hearing people talk about the poor as if they as cockroaches. People are fragile.
The guy down the street has a scary dog. Everyday when I walk by I see it looking at me out the window. Today one of his kids let it out while I was walking home. It came right at me. I didn't feel fear. I should have. Did I really think I could beat off this beast with my umbrella? I saw this dog attack another dog in the neighborhood. That frightened me. Somehow I must have forgetten to be scared. Now what's the word for that? It's not bravery. It's something else... Then again I wondered if I'd be able to sue their homeowner's policy if it attacked. It didn't bite me. That didn't make it OK...
Love is like a drug. It gets in your veins and all you want to do is keep that feeling, that rush, that lust. When will you get your next fix?
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10:07 pm
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Rambling along..
There are fleeting moments of sheer joy for no sane reason. Where do they come from? You’re driving along in your car, the weather is warm enough to have the window down, and a little breeze firing off those pleasure neurons, gently teasing the soft, fine hairs on your arms and cheeks. A song you know all the words to, and aren’t afraid to sing aloud is twirling it’s melody around you through the speakers. And you’re smiling. Why? I don’t know. It’s like being high you know what I mean? What’s the real word for that? There’s got to be a word.
Happiness?
Aw, come on. That’s too simple a word. Too easy. There should be something else to those 2 or 3 minutes when all is right in the world. Your little world that is. It’s like when your cat naps, stretched lavishly across what is usually a clean sheet, with no fear of scolding. Sleeping while a little slit of sunlight warms their furry body. They sigh in their little cat way, roll their head back and forth to feel the softness and the warmth. It’s as if their little grey lips are curled in some sort of smile. As if their dreams are not of scurrying mice and stinky fish and psychedelic catnip, but of something sweetened. Are they remembering something, something primal that makes them smile in their sleep? That’s what those 2 or 3 minutes are like. Just like that. What is the cat remembering? Why do those fleeting moments in the car feel like flying?
And when the little cat is awakened by you, sitting on the bed, making a noise, they open their eyes and look content for a moment. They shoot you a glance as if they aren’t surprised that you disturbed their blissful slumber, but they didn’t expect it either. Then they make the choice. Do they roll their little jewel tone eyes and go back to sleep? Or do they decide you’ve ruined the moment and promptly stalk off? Looking for something better? Something to regain that feeling that you just stole.
So the song ends or the breeze turns a little colder. The station then plays something terrible that you simply must turn off and endlessly search through the radio channels for something to keep that fleeting moment going on. Quickly before it ends! You roll up the window and wait for that strange moment when the car seals up and there’s that unexpected moment of warmth from cutting off the breeze that makes your skin relax. Your smile fades. There’s a red light, you’re almost home. The feeling is gone.
So you pull into the driveway and drag yourself and your parcels into the house. The first breath in the house always reminds you that something needs cleaned, an unfresh mouthful of garbage that needs taken out or the smell of must from a week of rain. Run! Back to the car, return to the joy! But you know it’s not there. It’s not here either. Abort the mission.
Up to your bed you scramble, wanting to feel those sun warmed fresh sheets against you. Against your face, where you can breathe in the soft safety of the bed, the sheets are a promise of alluring sleep, a promise that may recapture that feeling.
Alas!
Upon the bed slumbers another. The green-eyed beast stretches her taut body and opens an eye at you. She’s hogged the bed too long. Away minion! Mine! She slinks away, in search of something of yours to maim in revenge for stealing her feeling. You rush to claim her spot, searching for the patch of heat left behind from her body. You find it against your pillow, still warm, scented w/ her clean fur. You rub your face in the clean sheet, seeping the warm speck into your skin. You stole her moment, but yours has returned. What’s that called?
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09:40 pm
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12 Dyas till Christmas
Have you all made the holidays as commercially driven as possible? I certainly hope so.
New job started. Funny how no matter where you work there are the same personalities everywhere. Met the obnoxious tattletale today. She was about as obvious as a herpes sore.
Time to go to sleep.
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09:53 pm
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My last monday at my old job
And they are beating me down like a little bitch.
"So sorry to see you go, now do all this work so we get every inch of your soul..."
I got a free dinner out of it. Yay. So nice that after 5 years with the company I get a free dinner.
Did I mention dinner gave me the shits? Figures.
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12:28 am
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Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the meaningless gifts we buy are so delightful.
Filling our minds with the feeling of satisfaction that only can be acheived by replacing thoughts and emotions and passions with symbols of what we should be communicating to each other.
"Happy Holidays Daddy-o. Here's a case of beer. Why? Well you were a drunk when we were kids and I'd like to thank you for the exquisite experience! See you on Jerry Springer next month."
Now wouldn't that make for a fun holiday? I think so too.
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07:23 pm
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Greetings from Ginger central
You know... What does a girl have to do to find someone with half a brain to talk to? Seriously. Is the world THAT full of Ambercrombie & fitch wearing MTV reality showing watching clones? I'm not some single, obese, myopic, nazi-feminist bitch who hates men either, so don't go getting that impression... Just angsty and wondering where all the independent thinkers are...
And for the love of pete, will the Christians stop making a fuss about Harry Potter? Jeez, be happy your damn kids want to read.
Till the next
~your ginger girl
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