Crazy Has Left The Building

Dear everyone who now thinks I'm crazy,

Update: I'm not. We all have our moments, do we not? And anyway I have to keep things interesting. Constantly whining about being a virgin doesn't make for that great a read...or does it? Last week's observations were intensified by a mixture of hormones and the gigantic magnifying glass I hold over myself when I write these things. It's a joy being a woman. I'm not diminishing the legitimate weirdness of these strange paranoid dreams, but I have to take everything with a grain of salt. Especially things that come out of my own mouth...and mind. In retrospect I think I can officially attribute this paranoid dream nonsense to stress, and I can do this because the ol' acid reflux has returned as well. I live too much in my head and these physical/subconcious symptoms are just the real, though odd results.

I marvel at what life would be like if I could live by my heart instead of my head. I can only imagine it would be more painful, but also more joyful...broken-healed hearts are what make life worth living or so I've heard, and yet, still can't let myself get there. I want to believe it's not just me, that there are other contributing factors to my somewhat self-imposed singularity, such as location, profession, er...mentality of the demographic of which I seem to be a part, but I know it all starts at home.


Is it ridiculous that I still kind of believe that now that I've finally gotten my professional life in order my personal life will eventually follow? It feels naïve. But then again, most of the things I believe are based in a naïveté of some sort. And of course there's still the overwhelming fear that I should just accept is the brick wall 8 feet thick that prevents me from moving forward. It's just so hard to pinpoint a fear comprised of so many different elements that seem to be unfounded. Or perhaps it really is just simply the fear of sex. Why can't I just grown up? How did I become so gadam stunted?

Next Stop, Crazyville!

I think I may actually be on the road to um...the bin. I want so badly to get a handle on this whole paranoid half-conscious dreaming thing I do, so the past couple times it has happened I have tried to force myself into some kind of rationality.

What I've come up with is this: still feels like people are able to read my mind, and also this other thing that I haven't mentioned before. There are these strange, non-tangible things/ideas that I am supposed to do/expected to do for work but feel really awkward doing. I can't even put my finger on what it is but it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. A weird shameful feeling lingers...maybe more due to having my mind read than what weird things I'm supposed to be doing. I don't know. But...I have figured out that this paranoid dream nonsense only happens when I lay on my right side facing the right hand corner of the ceiling of my bedroom. It's where I originally starting seeing the listening device in the air when I was apparently dream hallucinating. Thank God that has stopped.

I seriously think I am going crazy. I know they say if you know you're going crazy you really aren't, but there's a first time for everything.

I mean, after reading this don't you wonder just a little bit about my sanity?

I could attribute it to stress because God knows what other things it has done to my body, but I'm just not totally convinced.

Maybe there are just one too many radio waves screaming through my walls and somehow messing with my brain. All I know is, if I start to make sense of the noise and it turns into voices telling me to do stuff, don't say I didn't warn you.

One Day Can Determine The Rest...I guess

It is not my birthday today but I was reading through The Birthday Book and found this:

"Perhaps the greatest problem for [these] people is coming to understand themselves, being able to straighten out their complex, difficult personalities. Usually it is seething emotions which keep them from viewing themselves in a more objective light. Many born on this day use their work as an escape from what seems an excessive self-involvement."

(Though I suppose posting this contradicts trying to escape self-involvement...)

"...Because of their desire for independence, and because they tend to limit themselves to a few choice friends, [these people] risk condeming themselves to a lonely life. Yet being alone is not necessarily a lonely experience for those born in this period."

(Not all the time, but every one in a while I am a lonely loner...)

S.W.A. ...?

You know that feeling you get when you realize you've forgotten something but can't remember what it is...and then you do but are hit with another realization that you haven't forgotten what you thought you did but for whatever reason still feel like you have?

This has been happening to me almost every day, and what it is I feel like I've forgotten is to kiss someone goodbye. How weird is that? Even knowing that I haven't forgotten this doesn't make the feeling go away. I'm starting to wonder about my sanity. Well actually, I started that a long time ago, but you get the gist. It's a renewed wonder.

The half-conscious paranoid dreams have been in and out lately too. It is disconcerting in a waking state to think about what someone would think of you if they knew your thoughts. When the line between reality and dreams is blurred it becomes terrifying. At least, for me. Which is weird because it's not like I'm thinking horrible things (all the time anyway) it's more the invasion of privacy that gets me. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually like the fact that you can't ever know what goes on in someone else's head. Or perhaps it's more that no one can ever know what goes on in mine that I like.

One of the first things that Jean said that ever angered me was, "I know you like the back of my hand." First of all, if that was true she would not have said it. Why make me angry when I was happy to be her doormat? Second of all, she couldn't possibly know I would learn to self-preserve and cut her off a few years later because the back of her hand would never change.

I suppose this speaks to my um, ability to let people in. Which, by the by, I have done many times, just on my terms, slowly and to a certain degree. It's not that I'm hiding things about myself, with the exception of the whole sex thing, because most of my close friends know a great deal about me...I think it's more about how far into my heart I let people. In Queen Vee terms, how much I miss them when they're gone?

Maybe I've been letting more in without knowing it which is why I feel like I've been forgetting to kiss them goodbye. No that's not it. What could possibly be the cause for this odd, odd feeling?

Welcome To My Second Dollhouse

At some point this year I will turn 30. This fact doesn't upset me at all. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Since I was a teenager I've always thought I'd look, feel and be at my best in my thirties. I suppose there is something to be said for mind over matter, but I can also attest that I didn't make my twenties painful by purposely being over-stimulated, under-sexed, wet-noodillish and perpetually exhausted. I used to think it was a second coming of age until I realized mixing pop culture and psychology was just a trendy way to justify my behavior. Well, that and I now know I haven't quite finished growing up yet, nor will I in the foreseeable future.

Every couple of days I find myself wondering about my place with an almost overwhelming awe. What am I doing? Do I really have this job? These friends? This life? Am I supposed to be doing something else? How did I get here?

I received an Alumni magazine from my high school the other day and read about this kid I once knew. For the past couple of years he's been working in Africa, helping people with HIV. For the past couple of years I've been working in the entertainment industry bitching about a boss who's been holding me down. Um...inadequate is the only word that comes to mind when comparing my place with his in the larger scheme of things. I know it's futile to do such a thing, because no matter how good you are there's always someone better as well as someone worse, but in the space around my life that's what happens. I compare, feel bad for a while, and then it passes. It passes because I've accepted the fact that I could never handle going to Africa and helping people with HIV. That's not to say that something profound couldn't happen to me and change that, but at the moment it's one of my truths.

I think my career choice (and therefore my place?) is one of the very few things I've been able to reconcile with the direction of my life, or at least my desire to be a contributing member of society. I spent a lot of time worrying about who I was helping and if my existence was worth anything if I wasn't. I even went so far as to quit the industry cold to figure out if I was doing the right thing. Or at least, the right thing for me which eventually I realized was the point I was missing. Right for me is an entirely different ball game than the right thing. Because honestly, what's the right thing? Too many (mostly religious) people confuse the right thing with a good/kind thing. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, (sorry) it's just not everyone can be a doctor. At least, I can't. And I'm ok with that.

I'll always wonder about my actual, grain of sand place in the world, because I still often feel like the proverbial (is that the right word?) square peg, but that's what makes it worth living isn't it? Everyone (sans the big bores) loves a mystery. What could be coming next?

For me it's the big three oh. Does it bother me that I'm still a virgin? Well...yes, but only because it means I haven't connected with anyone on a level where I can give myself over completely. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will, because even in my friendships there are things I hold back, but I still hope. Maybe this year is the year. I've been so lucky to explore all that I have in my life so far, it's time to face the boys...um, the men. A man.

Update On Jane Mag's Legal Pimping Debacle

Sarah is still publicly dating.

I am not.

We are both still virgins.

Do you see?