Saturday, July 15, 2000
@ Ruta Maya 1750 hrs
So I spent around $60 today on CDs Leigh (in Australia) recommended.
I’m actually rather happy right now — probably just some weird high I’m running on.
Spent this morning (actually, early afternoon: after my grandfather and great aunt left) with Wendi at Barnes and Noble studying algebra. She’s good. She took calculus and all that. I’m a dumbass in math.
Then we came downtown to Waterloo Records so I could get my CD fix for this paycheck. She ended up buying one, too.
Now we’re at Ruta Maya. She’s about to leave for some party with a bunch of other girls. Says she’ll get wasted tonight since it’s only girls. Cool. If Chuck doesn’t hurry and return my calls — I think he’s mad at me for continuing to hang out with Wendi when he feels she’s only using me and not treating me like a real friend should — I may have to go home and get wasted, too. Well, not wasted, but good and drunk.
I took Matthew, my little brother, to work and out on the town with me last night. We hung out with Wendi and Danielle most of the night. Ran into Chuck on Sixth later, only spoke to him for a couple of seconds, though. We hung out at Ruta Maya, then walked down to a restaurant on Congress only to make use of their ice cream bar, and we walked up and down Sixth Street a few times. Matt and I sat outside whenever Wendi and Danielle went into 18+ stores.
It was a good night, overall. We got home around 2 am.
Just talked to Bares. Sounds like he’s doing well at Hurlburt Field. His wife is about to start college; he’s working on his CDCs.
Tried calling Zaelit but he wasn’t home. Left a message for him to call, or I’ll call him back later.
Chuck still isn’t answering my calls nor is he returning them. I think he really is pissed.
So I’m sitting outside here at Ruta Maya writing all this on napkins and roasting. It was officially 105 degrees here yesterday. Can’t be far from it today.
I really hate being alone like this. I mean, it just gives me time to start over-analyzing things and get all depressed and shit. I was really happy hanging out with Wendi earlier. Just as I’m happy hanging with Chuck or any of my other friends.
Chuck’s cool to hang out with especially because he keeps the conversation going. Even if we’re talking about the drama and fuck-ups in my life — which we invariably end up doing — I’m still rather happy. And it’s cool to get his more experienced perspective on things going on in my life.
Man, I am sweating my ass off.
I know I’ve haven’t written anything particularly insightful for a while now, and trust me it’s not for lack of trying. I guess I just haven’t had any really, truly “spiritual” experiences lately. I’ve been living more of a regular life: work, college, friends on the weekends. Insight is reserved for those people who develop a habit of solitude (as I had done for a very long while there). You learn to wallow in your self-pity and over-analyzations and, ultimately, come up with something interesting to say. Maybe this is because most other people are caught up in the routine of regular, daily life that those who take the time to analyze themselves, their actions, others’ responses, etc find something “new” or at least different from the same ole same ole to say, or at least it’s received that way.
Of course, these things can’t be said when you’re living a regular life. You can’t speak of them when you’re out with friends on the weekend. They’re awkward thoughts and don’t fit such a place and time, unfortunately.
We probably lose a great amount of connection with our friends due to this. Actually, not lose, but never find. Everyone must at some time feel that solitude, that loneliness and alone-ness (which are two different things). Everyone must. Even the yuppies and preps we all make fun of — they must feel it sooner or later. For they’re only human, and all humans are unreliable. We all, sooner or later, are left in the lurch by someone: lover, friend, confidante, someone.
And at that point we analyze ourselves and our parts and pasts and futures and presents — if only to try to avoid feeling this solitude and contempt for oneself ever again. But still… everyone feels it and discovers a little piece of themselves that they can most likely never share even with their closest of confidantes for that fear of not being understood, of speaking it to someone who hasn’t experienced it and certainly can’t fathom the tremendous depth and toll it takes.
Sooner or later we all feel it, though, and try to push it away, find a way out. Many people probably do get out — I don’t know if that’s good or bad, though.
On the first night I met Jackie in California, we held hands. At one point, I released her hand and positioned my hand so that only our fingertips touched. This was nothing to me. I’d probably done it with every other girl I’ve ever held hands with, but, later, Jackie would tell me that it made something well up inside her, she felt some sort of connection/understanding between us in that moment. For me, it was natural. Which goes to show you that that which some find common and not noteworthy others may find special and important.
Which, I suppose, is what it’s all about.