Thursday, September 14, 2000
@ home 2116 hrs
Probably better not to think before I write. In that vein:
I need to do laundry. I need to start taking my pills. Tomorrow’s Friday. This wart on my left wrist is shrinking. I should quit smoking. Not today, though. Tomorrow’s doubtful, too. I’m out of money for this two weeks, pretty much. I worked nine and a half hours today, though. The next paycheck should look rather decent. Haven’t talked to Wendi since Tuesday (more on that in the real entry below). Got Ash‘s book in the mail today, start editing it tomorrow night at Ruta Maya. Been getting emails from Bares and his wife in Florida lately which is really nice. Added another person to the update list (which kind of cancels out the above email, in my mind). Thanks again to Leigh for all the good music tips. Is Suzanne still in San Antonio? Hey, Dane, what are you doing this weekend? Maybe I’ll come down in the new car.
People are good at criticizing and that’s about it. Notice he/she didn’t include an address where we could read his/her wonderful thoughts, did he? ‘Course not.
Now, to the real entry.
I don’t know that you’ll be hearing much more about Wendi in here after this update. She started bitching at me when I went to her house on Tuesday between work and I walked out, got in my car, and left. Haven’t talked to her since. I can deal with her being “depressed” and needing time alone, but that still does not give one the right to treat their “friends” like shit. Maybe I deserve it, though. I do write down everything I think.
Went to Ruta Maya last night and hung out with Brian, Nick, a guy with a Ph.D. in physics, and a girl whose parents stole her car. The café seems sterile now. I mean, I can actually go there and relax now. There’s no George to watch drink himself to death or hear insulting everyone, there’s no Wendi to increase the drama quotient dramatically–there’s just coffee, music, people to talk to, and the heat. And the heat. Aside from the heat, there’s just a totally different feeling to that place now. It must be like going back to a former area you fought as soldier in during a war. You’ve been one with the mud and grime, your sweat has mingled with the soil. Now, going back, it seems as if it’s a part of me from long ago that I’m just revisiting now and then. It’s an interesting feeling. All those late nights spent there with George and Wendi and whomever. “We spread out to occupy the cracks in the urban streets.”
I’ll most likely be there tomorrow night to start editing the portion of Ash’s book that she sent. If I can commandeer a table with a lamp it’ll be a nice relaxing night, most likely. Wendi probably won’t show. Brian or Chuck or someone will most likely drop by, though.
Now, with the Wendi thing, I don’t mean that I’ve completely, totally given up on our friendship. I’d still like to having a mutual friendship. If she does anything to bridge the gap between us now I’ll have to be wary, though. I’ve really tried to be a good friend–and nothing more–for her, but every once in a while she needs to reciprocate, I think. Maybe I’m selfish. “If you want me, I’ll be there/ A boy to deal with all your problems/ But part of the deal/ Is for you to feel something…”
So, yes, I worked around nine and a half hours today. It’s amazing how much better I feel when I actually get up in the morning and go to work. I don’t completely hate my job right now, and I’m actually doingsomething. It’s odd that I’ve actually felt worse lately when I just sit around the house or Ruta Maya for hours on end doing virtually nothing than when I go to work in the morning. It must all be about having a goal. Right now I have a goal of finishing every day at work, I guess. Sitting at Ruta Maya the goal was always getting another beer, another cigarette, seeing how many more hours we could sit there and stagnate.
Life’s pretty decent right now. Could be better, could be a whole lot worse. I’ll give it some time.