My life is pulling me apart. I think and I keep running into red lights and dead ends. I feel more strongly that I'm in something similar to what I went through seven years ago. It's in the way I feel and the way I think. It's like I'm hearing voices. I hadn't noticed that before. It's not an actual voice talking to me, but I'm always thinking and something is always going on. I'm constantly distracted, like everything around me is communicating with me, but in an oppressive way. It's like a voice. That's how it was before and it wasn't like this when I was out of it.
The thoughts are the same. Situations run rampant in my head and run their course to their inevitable dead end. I hate my condition and I can't imagine any condition I would like better. Nothing changed even when I got clear, I just ignored it better. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live. I don't want to get old, but there is a twisted attraction to it. Forty years maybe. Shit.
I can't make decisions about my life. I weigh both sides of all issues and it leaves me no where and drives me batty. Over and over I think that I can't go through this again, and then for a glimmer I think, "why not?".
I think about civilization and all its accomplishments. I see all the people moving in society with their purposes and goals, each constantly taking a single step into a future which holds something unknown. Existence pushing at an outer envelope of time, of the unknown, of the future. Everything is so organized and so defined, but I see no purpose in it all. Why exist at all? Why exist like this? So many people take existence itself for granted, and why not? They exist, it's granted. I wonder what it would be like if people didn't think that way.
There is such a huge difference between the material and the spiritual. Both are here, most choose to live strictly within the material. Just a job to do. What an empty existence.
I hate myself and I hate my life. Life sucks. I can't deal with existence, I can't deal with being me, with being something, anything, anyone. I hate this brain, I hate these eyes, I hate this person. My hair drives me nuts, my kingdom for one good hair day.
Tuesday, March 28, 1995
Sunday, March 19, 1995
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
I'm confused. I'm not sure what's going on. This can't be another cycle of what I've gone through before. This is not 1987-88 over again, it can't even be an analogy of that point in my life. I've grown since then, my view of life is different, and apart from the problems, I'm not the same person now as I was then.
But I can't really assess the differences between then and now because I don't remember too clearly what it was like back then. Maybe years from now I might see them as identical, when I get out of this and see clearly again.
What kept me from dying back then? Being numb? Not a very good reason. I don't want to be numb this time around if I have to go through those problems again. But I am more mature now and I have knowledge that I didn't have back then. It's just different. On the other hand, I'm more confident now in acting on my abilities, and if I make a decision, I'm more likely to carry it out and not equivocate and wallow in my misery. I wouldn't let myself live through what I went through before. My being alive now is a result of my inability back then. I'm glad that I didn't die back then. I wouldn't regret it if I did, but...I'm just a little glad.
It crosses my mind that I'm not at a point that is analogous to 1987-88, but perhaps a point even earlier, 1985 and thereafter when a series of events led to a loss of my support group. My brother and his friends graduated and went to college, Shiho left for Japan, Mark left Dwight for another job. There was that stupid thing with Rebecca. The isolation began during my Junior year and was complete by the time I was a Senior.
I feel like I've lost my support group, those vital, life-giving relationships that seemed so solid and so important to my well-being; suddenly vanished. Graduating from Oberlin, breaking up with Amina, distancing from Diem, Vikki, Luyen and everyone else. But Amina is different from Rebecca. Rebecca didn't do anything but remain inaccessible. I never hated Rebecca and slowly she just became nothing.
It has been hard living with this hate towards Amina. It has been hard living with the hate I have towards the 'rents, but that has been a competitive hate, something necessary for me to be who I am and keep going. I trusted Amina. I never trusted the 'rents. They have always been the enemy. Amina was completely different. Amina was a betrayal. Ironically, the 'rents could never betray me.
It's moot whether this situation is analogous to 1985 or 1987. If this is a cycle repeating itself, no thanks, I have no desire to go through it again. If nothing redeeming happens soon, I'm leaving. The 'rents called and it's getting critical that they get out of my life.
I let a lot of things out to Joy last night. I can't say it felt good. More like a relief. At least she has a better idea where she stands in my life. She has a warning. If she ignores it and remains blind, then it's her fault and it shows how dysfunctional we really are.
I told her that since graduating, I've completely lost the friends who comprised my support group and that I have none now. I tried to imply that I derive no support from her and she is not a source of emotional, moral, or mental support. I don't think it's unreasonable for her to have gotten that. The spark is really gone, nothing really happens between us. It was bound to happen.
But I can't really assess the differences between then and now because I don't remember too clearly what it was like back then. Maybe years from now I might see them as identical, when I get out of this and see clearly again.
What kept me from dying back then? Being numb? Not a very good reason. I don't want to be numb this time around if I have to go through those problems again. But I am more mature now and I have knowledge that I didn't have back then. It's just different. On the other hand, I'm more confident now in acting on my abilities, and if I make a decision, I'm more likely to carry it out and not equivocate and wallow in my misery. I wouldn't let myself live through what I went through before. My being alive now is a result of my inability back then. I'm glad that I didn't die back then. I wouldn't regret it if I did, but...I'm just a little glad.
It crosses my mind that I'm not at a point that is analogous to 1987-88, but perhaps a point even earlier, 1985 and thereafter when a series of events led to a loss of my support group. My brother and his friends graduated and went to college, Shiho left for Japan, Mark left Dwight for another job. There was that stupid thing with Rebecca. The isolation began during my Junior year and was complete by the time I was a Senior.
I feel like I've lost my support group, those vital, life-giving relationships that seemed so solid and so important to my well-being; suddenly vanished. Graduating from Oberlin, breaking up with Amina, distancing from Diem, Vikki, Luyen and everyone else. But Amina is different from Rebecca. Rebecca didn't do anything but remain inaccessible. I never hated Rebecca and slowly she just became nothing.
It has been hard living with this hate towards Amina. It has been hard living with the hate I have towards the 'rents, but that has been a competitive hate, something necessary for me to be who I am and keep going. I trusted Amina. I never trusted the 'rents. They have always been the enemy. Amina was completely different. Amina was a betrayal. Ironically, the 'rents could never betray me.
It's moot whether this situation is analogous to 1985 or 1987. If this is a cycle repeating itself, no thanks, I have no desire to go through it again. If nothing redeeming happens soon, I'm leaving. The 'rents called and it's getting critical that they get out of my life.
I let a lot of things out to Joy last night. I can't say it felt good. More like a relief. At least she has a better idea where she stands in my life. She has a warning. If she ignores it and remains blind, then it's her fault and it shows how dysfunctional we really are.
I told her that since graduating, I've completely lost the friends who comprised my support group and that I have none now. I tried to imply that I derive no support from her and she is not a source of emotional, moral, or mental support. I don't think it's unreasonable for her to have gotten that. The spark is really gone, nothing really happens between us. It was bound to happen.
Friday, March 17, 1995
247 19th Ave., #2 San Francisco
I've come to fear Joy's reactions, so I don't communicate with her anymore. If there's something I get really excited about and want to tell her about, I'm afraid of her predictable reaction: deadpan. If something moves me, if my afternoon was simply beautiful and I want to share it with her, I'm afraid of her reaction: big smile and "that's great". No empathy; perceived feigned enthusiasm. I told her that I failed my Civ Pro midterm. I should have feared her reaction: absolute silence. Nothing. Void.
But I didn't fear that reaction, I expected it. I wanted her to feel that silence, I wanted her to notice the dynamic. I FAILED. She had no response. She didn't know what to do. I kind of enjoyed it. I think it's true - a relationship with no ripples has deeper troubles than is shown.
I stopped cutting because I didn't like the idea of her knowing what had happened since the last time she saw me. What do I care? What is she going to do about it? She's not going to react in any appreciable way. I'm going back to cutting. If she wants to discuss it, she has the right, if she doesn't, no loss to me. I stopped cutting, but there was nothing to replace it, nothing to take its place, and that made stopping really difficult.
We're going to break up. The only questions are when and how. Not soon. I don't think I can handle going through a break up at this point. So if she doesn't instigate it, I'll just wait. When the time comes, no games, I'm going to come right forward with it and tell her that this relationship has broken down.
This relationship is dysfunctional, that's not hard to admit. I go back and read what I wrote about Joy last Summer and I'm at a loss to explain those things. Our relationship is a sham, it's silly. But what I need to do is not torment her. I have to go against my common sense which tells me to distance, to let her know there are problems so that she can see a break up coming. That has never worked in the past. I'm not going to make the relationship miserable to build up to breaking up.
Today was a good day. I haven't had a good day since Amina. I'm having trouble counting those days when I met Joy and was getting close to her. Those don't seem real, those seem more like a reaction to Amina, a rebound.
When I got home from school, I decided to go for a run. I planned to take a bus down to Ocean Beach and then run back along the Sea Cliff. I went to Ocean Beach yesterday since it was sunny, but it was still chilly and windy. The winds were calmer today and it was reasonably warm, and when I got to the beach, it was just gorgeous. It was so pleasant that I walked along the beach for a while before doing the run. Today was a good day, and I wanted to share it with somebody. I didn't.
I'm back in phone contact with Shiho. She moved out of her parents' house and now has her own phone number. We've spoken several times. Any romance with Shiho would have been unrealistic. Through letters, it was possible to conjure a fantasy, but talking to her reminded me of the dynamic that kept me from falling in love completely when we were in high school. And when we fell in love in Osaka, that was probably years of history guiding our feelings, not present reality.
She has no idea who I am or what I'm about or the experiences that have shaped me. We can communicate, but I don't know how fulfilling it would be. I need someone with whom I can really connect. The big thing going for Shiho is that I would feel really, really comfortable around her, and it would be real.
But I didn't fear that reaction, I expected it. I wanted her to feel that silence, I wanted her to notice the dynamic. I FAILED. She had no response. She didn't know what to do. I kind of enjoyed it. I think it's true - a relationship with no ripples has deeper troubles than is shown.
I stopped cutting because I didn't like the idea of her knowing what had happened since the last time she saw me. What do I care? What is she going to do about it? She's not going to react in any appreciable way. I'm going back to cutting. If she wants to discuss it, she has the right, if she doesn't, no loss to me. I stopped cutting, but there was nothing to replace it, nothing to take its place, and that made stopping really difficult.
We're going to break up. The only questions are when and how. Not soon. I don't think I can handle going through a break up at this point. So if she doesn't instigate it, I'll just wait. When the time comes, no games, I'm going to come right forward with it and tell her that this relationship has broken down.
This relationship is dysfunctional, that's not hard to admit. I go back and read what I wrote about Joy last Summer and I'm at a loss to explain those things. Our relationship is a sham, it's silly. But what I need to do is not torment her. I have to go against my common sense which tells me to distance, to let her know there are problems so that she can see a break up coming. That has never worked in the past. I'm not going to make the relationship miserable to build up to breaking up.
Today was a good day. I haven't had a good day since Amina. I'm having trouble counting those days when I met Joy and was getting close to her. Those don't seem real, those seem more like a reaction to Amina, a rebound.
When I got home from school, I decided to go for a run. I planned to take a bus down to Ocean Beach and then run back along the Sea Cliff. I went to Ocean Beach yesterday since it was sunny, but it was still chilly and windy. The winds were calmer today and it was reasonably warm, and when I got to the beach, it was just gorgeous. It was so pleasant that I walked along the beach for a while before doing the run. Today was a good day, and I wanted to share it with somebody. I didn't.
I'm back in phone contact with Shiho. She moved out of her parents' house and now has her own phone number. We've spoken several times. Any romance with Shiho would have been unrealistic. Through letters, it was possible to conjure a fantasy, but talking to her reminded me of the dynamic that kept me from falling in love completely when we were in high school. And when we fell in love in Osaka, that was probably years of history guiding our feelings, not present reality.
She has no idea who I am or what I'm about or the experiences that have shaped me. We can communicate, but I don't know how fulfilling it would be. I need someone with whom I can really connect. The big thing going for Shiho is that I would feel really, really comfortable around her, and it would be real.
Thursday, March 09, 1995
247 19th Ave., #2 San Francisco
Tonight was closing night of the Asian American Film Festival. Another year gone by. Films give fresh takes on life, different perspectives, focus and detail on themes. Things we wouldn't ordinarily notice are brought to insight in films.
Will I be around to volunteer for next year's film festival? Do I really want to live another year? How many years have I been saying that? I really do not want to live this next coming year. It's critical. It holds nothing for me. But I've said that before, haven't I?
The isolation is deafening. I feel totally isolated and detached from any person, group, or community. No real communication, no real understanding. I have nothing with the people I know. I have no desire to meet new people. Too many people make me sick. Too many people turn out to be not what they seem. When you thought that you knew them really well, it's not just bad judgment in people, it's betrayal. I feel betrayed by all the people I knew back in college. Friends are nothing. Family is nothing.
I'm not making excuses. I'm not blaming anyone. I know my situation is my doing. It is only my failing and my inadequacy that prevents me from getting out of this. I know that there are ways out, and I know objectively that other people in similar situations have the ability to pursue them. But it's always the specific situations which prevent people from getting out, and it is by those specific situations that a person's actions should be judged.
I don't feel that I have the tools or the things I need to get myself out of this. Even if I did get out of this, I don't know what I would be getting out to, or if I even want to. Whatever it is, it doesn't look attractive. And that's exactly what I said years ago, back in 1989, and I got out and when I did I felt fine. But here I am again. What did I accomplish? Slogging through all that just to end up here again? No thanks.
Will I be around to volunteer for next year's film festival? Do I really want to live another year? How many years have I been saying that? I really do not want to live this next coming year. It's critical. It holds nothing for me. But I've said that before, haven't I?
The isolation is deafening. I feel totally isolated and detached from any person, group, or community. No real communication, no real understanding. I have nothing with the people I know. I have no desire to meet new people. Too many people make me sick. Too many people turn out to be not what they seem. When you thought that you knew them really well, it's not just bad judgment in people, it's betrayal. I feel betrayed by all the people I knew back in college. Friends are nothing. Family is nothing.
I'm not making excuses. I'm not blaming anyone. I know my situation is my doing. It is only my failing and my inadequacy that prevents me from getting out of this. I know that there are ways out, and I know objectively that other people in similar situations have the ability to pursue them. But it's always the specific situations which prevent people from getting out, and it is by those specific situations that a person's actions should be judged.
I don't feel that I have the tools or the things I need to get myself out of this. Even if I did get out of this, I don't know what I would be getting out to, or if I even want to. Whatever it is, it doesn't look attractive. And that's exactly what I said years ago, back in 1989, and I got out and when I did I felt fine. But here I am again. What did I accomplish? Slogging through all that just to end up here again? No thanks.
Wednesday, March 08, 1995
247 19th Ave., #2 San Francisco
What a mess my life has become. If my life goes in cycles, here in 1995, I feel right about where I was when I entered college. Dazed and apathetic. I really don't want to go through all that again, especially if it only means ending up at the beginning of the cycle to go through it again. I refuse.
All that learning; glimpses out of the woods; getting out of the woods; feeling free and refreshed and clear. I remember it all, and here I am again and everything is cloudy again. I can almost see reality distorting at the fringes again. I can't help but notice the similarities, like losing a person I desperately wanted, writing songs, alienation and isolation from people, pushing people away. The 'rents are the same. The thought of going through it all again . . .
My life has just been getting worse. I'm not happy with Joy, but I wouldn't be happy breaking up with her either, so I stick with it. My friends have no idea what I'm about and have nothing to do with anything that I do. No community, no religion, no spirituality, I need more than this community of one. If only I had left the country and entered a monastery when I could have. What would that have solved?
I need a creative community and I can't find one with the same vision or the same voice. I want to create and develop and there is no one with whom I can do those things. I don't have the social skills or the confidence to find my way into the communities where I'd feel more comfortable. Nice hole I've dug myself into. I need new friends. Are my current friends real friends? They are, but they are a type of friend. Not the type I could swear loyalty to and not be afraid to express myself. We talk, we convey, but we don't communicate, we don't understand.
I clammed up during a midterm last week. It was the worst feeling. I just sat there and stared at it until desperation set in and I just spilled out whatever I could dig out of my memory. That sense of failure, that sense of not being able to do something, it was just like the part of the cycle when I returned to Oberlin and couldn't do papers. I dropped almost all of my courses and was put on academic probation because I just couldn't write simple five page papers. The stakes are higher this time around, and I contemplate what I will do if I get kicked out of school. I have no idea. Nothing has changed. And this is no game.
Sometimes I think this is one big joke. God knows I'm going to kill myself. That is the fated way that I'm going to get out of this, but God is having a yuck at how long I can keep this going because I have this stupid and irrelevant doubt concerning the consequences and what I might miss. When I finally do kill myself, a voice is going to come to me and say, "Wow, seven more years than we thought. Very impressive. Very, very impressive." Something like that.
All that learning; glimpses out of the woods; getting out of the woods; feeling free and refreshed and clear. I remember it all, and here I am again and everything is cloudy again. I can almost see reality distorting at the fringes again. I can't help but notice the similarities, like losing a person I desperately wanted, writing songs, alienation and isolation from people, pushing people away. The 'rents are the same. The thought of going through it all again . . .
My life has just been getting worse. I'm not happy with Joy, but I wouldn't be happy breaking up with her either, so I stick with it. My friends have no idea what I'm about and have nothing to do with anything that I do. No community, no religion, no spirituality, I need more than this community of one. If only I had left the country and entered a monastery when I could have. What would that have solved?
I need a creative community and I can't find one with the same vision or the same voice. I want to create and develop and there is no one with whom I can do those things. I don't have the social skills or the confidence to find my way into the communities where I'd feel more comfortable. Nice hole I've dug myself into. I need new friends. Are my current friends real friends? They are, but they are a type of friend. Not the type I could swear loyalty to and not be afraid to express myself. We talk, we convey, but we don't communicate, we don't understand.
I clammed up during a midterm last week. It was the worst feeling. I just sat there and stared at it until desperation set in and I just spilled out whatever I could dig out of my memory. That sense of failure, that sense of not being able to do something, it was just like the part of the cycle when I returned to Oberlin and couldn't do papers. I dropped almost all of my courses and was put on academic probation because I just couldn't write simple five page papers. The stakes are higher this time around, and I contemplate what I will do if I get kicked out of school. I have no idea. Nothing has changed. And this is no game.
Sometimes I think this is one big joke. God knows I'm going to kill myself. That is the fated way that I'm going to get out of this, but God is having a yuck at how long I can keep this going because I have this stupid and irrelevant doubt concerning the consequences and what I might miss. When I finally do kill myself, a voice is going to come to me and say, "Wow, seven more years than we thought. Very impressive. Very, very impressive." Something like that.
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