I think I’ve reached the point once again that I am thoroughly sick of my life. I’m trying to reach 34, but it seems so long away. I think of the end of my life right now, but I think of things that I want to do before I leave. It’s a contradiction. Which is closer to real? Neither. Leaving is closer to real in respect to attachment to being here, but “leaving” is already an attachment. These are the contradictory paradigms that comprise my life.
No one gets me. I had a talk with Josefa this past week which made it clear that no one gets me; she certainly doesn’t. She couldn’t emphasize more that I am different. I’m incomprehensible. And it makes it hard for the people around me. And she’s right.
I’m taking a few days off for vacation. I’m heading down to Southern California for the first time and I’m visiting Rosalie, taking in some sites – Joshua Tree, Kings Canyon, Sequoia National Park, maybe Manzanar, maybe Yosemite. I doubt I’ll hit them all.
I’m filled with anxiety about this trip. I don’t know why, I just have been on edge all day because of this trip. I hate my life, I hate living it, I hate being here, I hate existing. I don’t know how I’m going to survive. But why am I distressed? Why do I care? Why can’t I break through? This is so maddening and I’m so confused. I want to leave but...I’m not.
Showing posts with label doubt frustration confusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doubt frustration confusion. Show all posts
Thursday, October 25, 2001
Sunday, March 25, 2001
1557 Noe Street, San Francisco
I just don’t want to be here anymore. How many times and for how many years have I been saying that? I just don’t want to be here anymore. My physical existence is flesh and blood. I sat in a movie theater yesterday and I felt myself breathe, my muscles, my lungs, what do they do? They give me oxygen, who the hell cares? What the fuck ever. I can’t be doing this.
The frustrations are huge and they grow and grow. Doing something that I don’t know why I’m doing it. To make money? Not knowing who I am or where I came from or what I’m about? To have this past but not being able to make sense of it or to have any concrete meaning attached to it? How many times and for how many more years do I have to ask what is the point?
I rearranged my drums again. I think I really like it this time. It sounds really good. Non-drummers don’t know that the arrangement of drums affect how they resonate and how they sound. I’ve never been happy with the sound of the 12" tom as it was set up as rack tom. Positioned as a floor tom, not interacting with the bass drum, has changed the way it resonates.
How’s that for fodder for some psychiatrist? Write about how my existence is unbearable and then go right into something as mundane as the arrangement of my drums.
The frustrations are huge and they grow and grow. Doing something that I don’t know why I’m doing it. To make money? Not knowing who I am or where I came from or what I’m about? To have this past but not being able to make sense of it or to have any concrete meaning attached to it? How many times and for how many more years do I have to ask what is the point?
I rearranged my drums again. I think I really like it this time. It sounds really good. Non-drummers don’t know that the arrangement of drums affect how they resonate and how they sound. I’ve never been happy with the sound of the 12" tom as it was set up as rack tom. Positioned as a floor tom, not interacting with the bass drum, has changed the way it resonates.
How’s that for fodder for some psychiatrist? Write about how my existence is unbearable and then go right into something as mundane as the arrangement of my drums.
Monday, March 19, 2001
1557 Noe Street, San Francisco
I have no connection with my past. There is no continuity. From less than five years ago, I’m completely disconnected from my feelings and my being. That was real. This is real. But they are incongruent. I was volatile and self-destructive then, and I was something. I’m passive and floating now, and I am nothing. Is this any way to survive? This is getting so stupid, I’ve been sucked into what I’ve always wanted to avoid. Another reason to once again leave, but it’s harder to leave because this is so hypnotically comfortable, I can do this. But that is all.
I’m about to quit my job, and this is another reason to do it. I need to get back to the place that’s dangerous; no safety net. I can’t quit when I know I necessarily have something else lined up. I need to quit and have that doubt that I’ll be able to get another job. I need to be in that free fall of doubt and uncertainty about what’s immediately in my future.
I’m about to quit my job, and this is another reason to do it. I need to get back to the place that’s dangerous; no safety net. I can’t quit when I know I necessarily have something else lined up. I need to quit and have that doubt that I’ll be able to get another job. I need to be in that free fall of doubt and uncertainty about what’s immediately in my future.
Wednesday, January 24, 2001
1557 Noe Street, San Francisco
I don’t have any friends. Friends are people who are there when the bottom drops out, and I realize that when my world starts to collapse, none of these people are going to be there. There is no one in my life that I can count on. I have co-workers, bandmates, and housemates. Would any of them be a friend if they weren’t a co-worker, bandmate, or housemate?
I am starting to burn out at work and it’s nothing like I thought it would be. I thought I’d approached burning out before, but it was different before, I was still able to function. That wasn’t burning out, that was frustration and tension; that was hating my job. Now I’m really burning out. There’s a point in the day after which I can’t function anymore, I’m just despondent. I can’t focus; I’ll have five different things on my desk and I can’t get any of them done. I start working on one thing, then I look over at another thing, get distracted and start working on that thing, and I end up getting nothing done. I’m going to call in sick on Friday. Maybe Monday, too.
I need to keep the end of my life in mind, too. I’m supposed to be in my twilight years, not languishing in a dead-end job, doing something I really don’t care for. I’m giving the band a chance, but for how long? Am I clear on what I want out of it in the remaining time I have left? Play gigs? Expression? I’m really not that sure.
I need to calm my mind and not be a part of this world. I need to sit and concentrate, focus on what’s important. I have to remember that dying can’t be a plan. It has to be something I just do, and I have to be completely clear leading up to that point. At this rate, I’m never going to have that clarity. My life is completely clouded and fogged in.
I am starting to burn out at work and it’s nothing like I thought it would be. I thought I’d approached burning out before, but it was different before, I was still able to function. That wasn’t burning out, that was frustration and tension; that was hating my job. Now I’m really burning out. There’s a point in the day after which I can’t function anymore, I’m just despondent. I can’t focus; I’ll have five different things on my desk and I can’t get any of them done. I start working on one thing, then I look over at another thing, get distracted and start working on that thing, and I end up getting nothing done. I’m going to call in sick on Friday. Maybe Monday, too.
I need to keep the end of my life in mind, too. I’m supposed to be in my twilight years, not languishing in a dead-end job, doing something I really don’t care for. I’m giving the band a chance, but for how long? Am I clear on what I want out of it in the remaining time I have left? Play gigs? Expression? I’m really not that sure.
I need to calm my mind and not be a part of this world. I need to sit and concentrate, focus on what’s important. I have to remember that dying can’t be a plan. It has to be something I just do, and I have to be completely clear leading up to that point. At this rate, I’m never going to have that clarity. My life is completely clouded and fogged in.
Tuesday, December 05, 2000
1557 Noe Street, San Francisco
I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’m emotionally drained and I’ve hit a wall. I’ve been drinking like never before and I don’t know how much more I can take it. Getting over Ritu’s death has been hard.
What is my life? None of this is real, none of this has been real; just stupid clouds passing through my life. I need to land and I can’t find an island. All of my feelings have been stupid, and none of it has been real. There has to be more than this.
I’ll make it to the end of the year. I’ll make it into several months of next year. Music is the only thing sustaining me and getting me to that point, but if it looks like a dead-end after that point, I’m not going to bother. It’s not the only option I have, I know that, but it’s the option I’m going to choose. I need to shut off emotionally to get me there. If I keep feeling I won’t make it.
What is my life? None of this is real, none of this has been real; just stupid clouds passing through my life. I need to land and I can’t find an island. All of my feelings have been stupid, and none of it has been real. There has to be more than this.
I’ll make it to the end of the year. I’ll make it into several months of next year. Music is the only thing sustaining me and getting me to that point, but if it looks like a dead-end after that point, I’m not going to bother. It’s not the only option I have, I know that, but it’s the option I’m going to choose. I need to shut off emotionally to get me there. If I keep feeling I won’t make it.
Tuesday, July 18, 2000
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
I don't even know how to start digging into the source of my feelings on anything happening in my life. What are my feelings about Fiction? Deep frustration comes to mind. But what do I mean when I say I'm deeply frustrated? I don't know. Dead end. I can identify the words deep frustration to vaguely describe my feelings, but I don't really know what the feeling is.
How do I feel about Ritu and my job? Working with Ritu can be tense and stressful, she's a difficult person to deal with and her moods are unpredictable. But she's also really good to work for because she doesn't power trip and she doesn't micro-manage my work. So how do I feel about working with her? No idea. Dead end.
How do I feel about anything? I don’t think I feel anything anymore.
How do I feel about Ritu and my job? Working with Ritu can be tense and stressful, she's a difficult person to deal with and her moods are unpredictable. But she's also really good to work for because she doesn't power trip and she doesn't micro-manage my work. So how do I feel about working with her? No idea. Dead end.
How do I feel about anything? I don’t think I feel anything anymore.
Sunday, May 21, 2000
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
If my thoughts are filled with worldly concerns, that makes me a worldly person.
I'm getting sucked into worldly concerns. I stress about work and get angry and frustrated. That's no good. I get frustrated about the band and my inability to find another gig. That's no good. I'm starting to want to be in a relationship but there's no way that's going to happen. That's no good. I'm not particularly happy with my living situation. That's no good. I missed the Bay to Breakers today for the second time in the seven years I've been in the Bay Area and that does mean something, and that is no good.
This isn't how I want to be living my life. This is not the person I want to be. I need to let go and remember the important things. I need to focus on the nature of reality. I need to be prepared to leave at any moment. This isn't my life, this isn't me. Escape hatch.
I'm getting sucked into worldly concerns. I stress about work and get angry and frustrated. That's no good. I get frustrated about the band and my inability to find another gig. That's no good. I'm starting to want to be in a relationship but there's no way that's going to happen. That's no good. I'm not particularly happy with my living situation. That's no good. I missed the Bay to Breakers today for the second time in the seven years I've been in the Bay Area and that does mean something, and that is no good.
This isn't how I want to be living my life. This is not the person I want to be. I need to let go and remember the important things. I need to focus on the nature of reality. I need to be prepared to leave at any moment. This isn't my life, this isn't me. Escape hatch.
Thursday, May 18, 2000
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
So what's it all about? A little over a month ago I was ready to go into the red financially because of a drumset. A month later I am comfortably nowhere near going into the red. I go to work in my cube everyday and then some. The highlight of my life is making money. For what?
I've been going to happy hours and getting drunk with Ritu. Why do I have to keep convincing myself that my life is over, when it's so obvious. What else is there? I already know that there is no more. But I keep living and I resent it and I deal with it the only way I know how, by constantly reminding myself that someday I’m going to simply kill myself.
I've been going to happy hours and getting drunk with Ritu. Why do I have to keep convincing myself that my life is over, when it's so obvious. What else is there? I already know that there is no more. But I keep living and I resent it and I deal with it the only way I know how, by constantly reminding myself that someday I’m going to simply kill myself.
Thursday, December 16, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
Things have gotten bad.
I don’t know what the feeling is exactly, but I know it isn’t good, it’s bad. I’m stuck. I’ve stagnated. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Work is good, but it has created a lot of changes that I haven’t adjusted to. After a productive day’s work, I walk out and wonder what I’m doing with myself, what is my life.
Sometimes I’m depressed, sometimes I’m lonely, a lot of times it’s the weather, a lot of times it’s stress, and almost all the time it’s my old problem with reality and existence. Work has put my life out of balance, but I don’t know how to cut through to the next thing that gives life meaning. That’s what we’re all doing on some level, trying to give our lives meaning. So what gives my life meaning? And to whom?
I don’t know what the feeling is exactly, but I know it isn’t good, it’s bad. I’m stuck. I’ve stagnated. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Work is good, but it has created a lot of changes that I haven’t adjusted to. After a productive day’s work, I walk out and wonder what I’m doing with myself, what is my life.
Sometimes I’m depressed, sometimes I’m lonely, a lot of times it’s the weather, a lot of times it’s stress, and almost all the time it’s my old problem with reality and existence. Work has put my life out of balance, but I don’t know how to cut through to the next thing that gives life meaning. That’s what we’re all doing on some level, trying to give our lives meaning. So what gives my life meaning? And to whom?
Saturday, September 26, 1998
198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco
The Relationship is still on the rocks. It’s funny how different situations look depending on whether you’re in them or looking at them. If it was someone else and I was looking at it, I would push for resolution. What is so important that things have to be fucked up? Un-fuck it up as soon as possible. But once I’m in it, it’s a totally different perspective.
It’s psychology, it’s patterns, it’s personality. It is in these times that I seriously question if we’re going to last as long as we think we’re going to last. I’m still looking for perfection in having no fights, and this isn’t it. It is during the bad times that we can get a true gauge on our relationship, and so far our record has been pretty miserable. When things are fine, hunky dory, but once things start going wrong, it’s fugazi. And each fight is another brick in the wall. Right now, I miss her and hope that this thing gets resolved soon. But if this keeps happening, after four, six, nine months, I’m not going to be so itching to get back with her. We’ll fight, cut contact, and I’ll be happy with that situation and dread her seeking resolution. There will be a point where I’ll be happier out of contact and that will be the end of the relationship.
This situation has revealed something unpleasant. We got into a fight because I was depressed, and inexplicably, I ended up having to comfort her. And the revelation is I haven’t seen her for a couple of days and today I found myself alone, grasping for something to do. I don’t want to have a final break up with her and be in that situation.
I need my own friends back and my own life. I want to be going to more shows, seeing more bands. I need to be making friends. Josephine is monopolizing my social life. Doubts abound about the longevity of this relationship, truth to tell, and I have to watch my ass.
New apartment and job. Those haven’t been high on my priority list because of this idea that we would be going to Taiwan together after she graduates. Basically, my life is on hold while she finishes this degree. That’s not right. We’re still handling fights really badly. We may still very easily bust up. Taiwan may very easily not happen.
I need to prepare for the worst. Is that a show of lack of confidence in this relationship? Sure. We’re still getting into these miserable little nothing fights that end up big deals. I need a safety net. I need to find an apartment to call home; a real home, not just a transient place the likes of which I’ve been doing since college. I need a job and get somewhat settled. If things work out with us, fine, Taiwan is still an option, but I can’t be counting on it at this point in my life.
It’s psychology, it’s patterns, it’s personality. It is in these times that I seriously question if we’re going to last as long as we think we’re going to last. I’m still looking for perfection in having no fights, and this isn’t it. It is during the bad times that we can get a true gauge on our relationship, and so far our record has been pretty miserable. When things are fine, hunky dory, but once things start going wrong, it’s fugazi. And each fight is another brick in the wall. Right now, I miss her and hope that this thing gets resolved soon. But if this keeps happening, after four, six, nine months, I’m not going to be so itching to get back with her. We’ll fight, cut contact, and I’ll be happy with that situation and dread her seeking resolution. There will be a point where I’ll be happier out of contact and that will be the end of the relationship.
This situation has revealed something unpleasant. We got into a fight because I was depressed, and inexplicably, I ended up having to comfort her. And the revelation is I haven’t seen her for a couple of days and today I found myself alone, grasping for something to do. I don’t want to have a final break up with her and be in that situation.
I need my own friends back and my own life. I want to be going to more shows, seeing more bands. I need to be making friends. Josephine is monopolizing my social life. Doubts abound about the longevity of this relationship, truth to tell, and I have to watch my ass.
New apartment and job. Those haven’t been high on my priority list because of this idea that we would be going to Taiwan together after she graduates. Basically, my life is on hold while she finishes this degree. That’s not right. We’re still handling fights really badly. We may still very easily bust up. Taiwan may very easily not happen.
I need to prepare for the worst. Is that a show of lack of confidence in this relationship? Sure. We’re still getting into these miserable little nothing fights that end up big deals. I need a safety net. I need to find an apartment to call home; a real home, not just a transient place the likes of which I’ve been doing since college. I need a job and get somewhat settled. If things work out with us, fine, Taiwan is still an option, but I can’t be counting on it at this point in my life.
Friday, September 25, 1998
198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco
I have my first “speaking engagement”. Boy does that sound weird; me, featured speaker. I’m so important now. HRA has scheduled an event where I discuss my recent experience at the U.N. and my research on the ethnic groups of Burma. Wow, this is resumé material! I better read my paper again and look up some law.
Just in case I totally flop, I’m also going to use this opportunity to exhibit my photos from the refugee camps last year. So if all else fails, I can at least use my photos to prove that I have some redeeming quality. Can’t speak for shit, but he’s into photography; very interesting.
The Relationship is on the rocks today. I was moody today because it was cloudy. Rain is a depressant. But truth to tell, I wasn’t feeling terrible when I left the house to pick her up at 4:00 at school. But then there was traffic going there, then she didn’t show up and I waited until 4:30 and then left and then there was traffic on the way back, and then she left a message on my machine and she sounded pissed at me. So I canceled plans to go to Palo Alto and drank and shut off from her. And it was the strangest thing, I ended up trying to console her. And stranger still, I wasn’t succeeding! What is it when I have a bad day or I’m moody and in need of comfort and understanding and I end up having to comfort her? That’s fucking lame. A babysitter I am not.
But in the end, no hard feelings. It’s nbd and it’ll pass. What I’m more concerned about is that not having sex is becoming the norm between us. We had several opportunities and each time, one of us thwarted it, maybe in reaction to the previous non-occurrence, which is even worse, but the bottom line is the same, it’s not happening. What if it gets to the point where any time we do have sex it feels forced and contrived? Bad sex will bring this relationship down.
Just in case I totally flop, I’m also going to use this opportunity to exhibit my photos from the refugee camps last year. So if all else fails, I can at least use my photos to prove that I have some redeeming quality. Can’t speak for shit, but he’s into photography; very interesting.
The Relationship is on the rocks today. I was moody today because it was cloudy. Rain is a depressant. But truth to tell, I wasn’t feeling terrible when I left the house to pick her up at 4:00 at school. But then there was traffic going there, then she didn’t show up and I waited until 4:30 and then left and then there was traffic on the way back, and then she left a message on my machine and she sounded pissed at me. So I canceled plans to go to Palo Alto and drank and shut off from her. And it was the strangest thing, I ended up trying to console her. And stranger still, I wasn’t succeeding! What is it when I have a bad day or I’m moody and in need of comfort and understanding and I end up having to comfort her? That’s fucking lame. A babysitter I am not.
But in the end, no hard feelings. It’s nbd and it’ll pass. What I’m more concerned about is that not having sex is becoming the norm between us. We had several opportunities and each time, one of us thwarted it, maybe in reaction to the previous non-occurrence, which is even worse, but the bottom line is the same, it’s not happening. What if it gets to the point where any time we do have sex it feels forced and contrived? Bad sex will bring this relationship down.
Wednesday, September 23, 1998
198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco
There is no improvement in my creative process. I have nothing to say and no way to say it; should I even be trying? There are so many talented writers out there, how can I even think I can compare? But I guess I’ll keep trying. How good other people are is not a gauge on what I might possibly say or how. I’ve written songs before and as little reaction as they’ve gotten from people, I do take pride in that they are my expression. And what other people think of the songs, mostly uniform bafflement, does not make me look upon my songs less favorably.
Josephine and I visited Audrey today down in Palo Alto where her kid brothers got an apartment. Audrey is a very different person than who I was endeared to when she got to the U.S. in the early ‘90's. She’s become much more bitter and cynical. Paranoid, even with a touch of insecurity. Maybe more than a touch. I didn’t realize that this is the norm now until recently. I thought she was just in a phase, but this is what she is now.
Josephine and I visited Audrey today down in Palo Alto where her kid brothers got an apartment. Audrey is a very different person than who I was endeared to when she got to the U.S. in the early ‘90's. She’s become much more bitter and cynical. Paranoid, even with a touch of insecurity. Maybe more than a touch. I didn’t realize that this is the norm now until recently. I thought she was just in a phase, but this is what she is now.
Friday, September 22, 1995
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
Shiho lies there sleeping. I think to myself how many people have I loved this much, this dearly. Perhaps just about all of them at some point. Why is this different? Why was Amina different? This is different. Shiho is different. But whenever I've loved anyone this much, I think my love has always reached this level. And the level reached has always been the same. Limited.
She lies there silent, so endeared to me. I wonder if she has any idea how much I love her. Does she know the capacity of my love? Do we love each other in the same way? Are our idea and conception of love the same? I think back to Osaka when she came to visit when she heard I was leaving. That afternoon we spent in each other's arms. I think back to a time in high school when there was a rehearsal going on in the basement, but I was so tired that I needed to take a nap. She came up to my room with me, I forget why, but then after I laid down and she was headed back downstairs, she quickly kissed me on the cheek before going. I ignored it, I wasn't in love with her at that time. Idiot.
I watch her sleeping and I just know this won't last, it is unrealistic. It is unreal. She's here for three days. Two days of travel to be with me for three days.
This past summer. Her apartment was so comfortable. Being there was so comfortable. That one night we went out to the overpass to watch the trains go under and drink beer. What power does love have to keep us together?
How can I love anyone now when I have so many loves in my past that were never resolved, that never reached a proper end?
I never know what is going on in Shiho's heart in any given moment. I never know what is going on in her heart in any given moment. I don't know how her heart works.
I want her to express to me, to tell me that she loves me, to let me know how she feels, but that is not her style. How long will I be able to stand not getting those things? The second time we got together she was just starting to be able to express her feelings in a way I could feel and appreciate.
So much is lying on faith. I understand that it is not her style and I can accept that and adjust. I can only trust that she loves me.
But what indication do I have that I can trust her? Our past? We would get together when we were together, but once we were apart we would fall for other people. And isn't to want such a trust the equivalent of trying to capture her? Trying to make something permanent out of something that can't be permanent, that I know is not permanent, that I feel should not be permanent.
Trust her after Amina? I can't. It's not a vindictive thing against Amina, it's not trauma of being betrayed, it's not emotional. It's fact, it's reality. That sort of trust is not an option anymore. I couldn't trust her even if I were to allow myself to try.
She's beautiful, though. I love her face, her skin, her sex, her presence. I love her existence. If only she loved me back...
She lies there silent, so endeared to me. I wonder if she has any idea how much I love her. Does she know the capacity of my love? Do we love each other in the same way? Are our idea and conception of love the same? I think back to Osaka when she came to visit when she heard I was leaving. That afternoon we spent in each other's arms. I think back to a time in high school when there was a rehearsal going on in the basement, but I was so tired that I needed to take a nap. She came up to my room with me, I forget why, but then after I laid down and she was headed back downstairs, she quickly kissed me on the cheek before going. I ignored it, I wasn't in love with her at that time. Idiot.
I watch her sleeping and I just know this won't last, it is unrealistic. It is unreal. She's here for three days. Two days of travel to be with me for three days.
This past summer. Her apartment was so comfortable. Being there was so comfortable. That one night we went out to the overpass to watch the trains go under and drink beer. What power does love have to keep us together?
How can I love anyone now when I have so many loves in my past that were never resolved, that never reached a proper end?
I never know what is going on in Shiho's heart in any given moment. I never know what is going on in her heart in any given moment. I don't know how her heart works.
I want her to express to me, to tell me that she loves me, to let me know how she feels, but that is not her style. How long will I be able to stand not getting those things? The second time we got together she was just starting to be able to express her feelings in a way I could feel and appreciate.
So much is lying on faith. I understand that it is not her style and I can accept that and adjust. I can only trust that she loves me.
But what indication do I have that I can trust her? Our past? We would get together when we were together, but once we were apart we would fall for other people. And isn't to want such a trust the equivalent of trying to capture her? Trying to make something permanent out of something that can't be permanent, that I know is not permanent, that I feel should not be permanent.
Trust her after Amina? I can't. It's not a vindictive thing against Amina, it's not trauma of being betrayed, it's not emotional. It's fact, it's reality. That sort of trust is not an option anymore. I couldn't trust her even if I were to allow myself to try.
She's beautiful, though. I love her face, her skin, her sex, her presence. I love her existence. If only she loved me back...
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.
Thursday, September 08, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
School started for Joy yesterday. We got together on Tuesday at Yerba Buena Gardens, just as we did on the Tuesday before I started classes several weeks ago.
It feels like I've known her for longer. Everything before her isn't important, drained of significance, drained of reality or relevance. Joy is real. This sounds uncomfortably familiar.
And still.
I haven't seen her for two days. I found that I don't particularly like talking to her on the phone. Calling her requires a prior check on how I feel. There's still this issue of trust which I don't think is getting resolved. I've told her so much about myself, but I don't know if it has been trust or if I've just been testing her to see how much she can take. Something is missing between us.
She still blisses me out, but I have my doubts. I love her fully, but only as long as she loves me back, not one day longer.
I'm not through dealing with my problems. They just won't go away. I would rather die than be in a relationship. I can see how that could be a problem.
Joy deserves much more than this. It's not that I don't want to give her my all, it's just that I don't have that much.
I'll try. I want to. It's a confidence and self-esteem issue which makes me feel like I won't succeed or can't, but I'll try.
It feels like I've known her for longer. Everything before her isn't important, drained of significance, drained of reality or relevance. Joy is real. This sounds uncomfortably familiar.
And still.
I haven't seen her for two days. I found that I don't particularly like talking to her on the phone. Calling her requires a prior check on how I feel. There's still this issue of trust which I don't think is getting resolved. I've told her so much about myself, but I don't know if it has been trust or if I've just been testing her to see how much she can take. Something is missing between us.
She still blisses me out, but I have my doubts. I love her fully, but only as long as she loves me back, not one day longer.
I'm not through dealing with my problems. They just won't go away. I would rather die than be in a relationship. I can see how that could be a problem.
Joy deserves much more than this. It's not that I don't want to give her my all, it's just that I don't have that much.
I'll try. I want to. It's a confidence and self-esteem issue which makes me feel like I won't succeed or can't, but I'll try.
Monday, September 05, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
I've been with Joy since Saturday. I came back for several hours on Saturday to do some drum parts and to listen to a drum part I did when I was back here for a few hours on Friday. I've finished all the drum parts for this collection of songs. I just have two more bass parts, several solos, and all the lyrics. Yikes! All the lyrics. There's a reason why I don't have any lyrics yet. I'm having trouble expressing myself that way.
Joy and I had a difficult night on Saturday. My brain was in overdrive and I couldn't express myself to her. It was an old familiar feeling of frustration and neglect, a breakdown of communication. I couldn't reach out and she wasn't reaching in. My mind raced from thought to thought to thought.
I still struggle with Amina. Whenever Joy talks about trust and betrayal, it's Amina on my mind, and it's holding back tears, and it's distance from myself and the world around me. If forgiveness were forthcoming, it would be coming with great difficulty. And it's not coming at all. I had so much invested in her. Images linger. The pain of losing with no feelings for what was lost.
I remember things about Amina that makes me wonder what I've forgotten. I remember how Amina defined and colored my reality. How everything in my life was tainted and affected by Amina, how she enhanced everything and became a part of everything I saw, felt, and experienced. That's why it's so hard to shake her out.
But that was Amina, not anyone else, not Joy. Perhaps I'm avoiding anything Amina was. Can I trust anyone like I trusted Amina ever again? I put the two images I have of Amina together, side by side, and I think, 'no, never again; no one'. I've been numbed cold about it.
Joy and I had a difficult night on Saturday. My brain was in overdrive and I couldn't express myself to her. It was an old familiar feeling of frustration and neglect, a breakdown of communication. I couldn't reach out and she wasn't reaching in. My mind raced from thought to thought to thought.
I still struggle with Amina. Whenever Joy talks about trust and betrayal, it's Amina on my mind, and it's holding back tears, and it's distance from myself and the world around me. If forgiveness were forthcoming, it would be coming with great difficulty. And it's not coming at all. I had so much invested in her. Images linger. The pain of losing with no feelings for what was lost.
I remember things about Amina that makes me wonder what I've forgotten. I remember how Amina defined and colored my reality. How everything in my life was tainted and affected by Amina, how she enhanced everything and became a part of everything I saw, felt, and experienced. That's why it's so hard to shake her out.
But that was Amina, not anyone else, not Joy. Perhaps I'm avoiding anything Amina was. Can I trust anyone like I trusted Amina ever again? I put the two images I have of Amina together, side by side, and I think, 'no, never again; no one'. I've been numbed cold about it.
Saturday, September 03, 1994
2211 Carleton St., #28, Berkeley
I get frightened. I recognize walls of inhibitions starting to crystallize. It doesn't seem serious, but it may lead to problems. If there is a loss of openness between us, there goes the basis of why this relationship is special, why it is working.
I can't be afraid to be myself. That, I think, has been a recurring struggle for me in trying to make a relationship work. I lose sight of myself. Being with another person takes on a characteristic of its own, I stop being me.
So many things eat at me from the inside. I appreciate how Joy makes me feel not alone. But if we focus on such seriousness too much, that will just wear us down. It's hard to balance between serious and heavy, and playful and goofy. We try to, and I think it's possible. She's flexible and she's empathic. She doesn't just get stuck on one thing.
She sits at the table. I observe her. She's unaware. She shows what's in her mind on her face. I can tell when she's thinking, when she notices something. If she finds something funny or ironic, she'll smile. Her thoughtfulness and consideration, it's obvious she's paying attention, it's obvious she's doing something, involved in something, engrossed in something; she's here and alive and living.
She flips through a pile of papers, looking for something, grimaces not quite able to find it. She spots something important. She writes it down. She sighs in frustration. She shakes her head. So thoughtful, so focused, so comfortable, so intent. There is a reason why she loves me. She wouldn't otherwise.
(excerpt from Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson, pp. 170-171)
". . . But where was God now, with heaven full of astronoughts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don't think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend. I don't even know if God exists, but I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it. I have an idea that one day it might be possible, I thought once it had become possible, and that glimpse has set me wandering, trying to find the balance between earth and sky. If the servants hadn't rushed in and parted us, I might have been disappointed, might have snatched off the white samite to find a bowl of soup. As it is, I can't settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone. I would cross seas and suffer sunstroke and give away all I have, but not for a man, because they want to be the destroyer and never the destroyed. That is why they are unfit for romantic love. There are exceptions and I hope they are happy.
The unknownness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met. If you want to find out the circumference of an oil drop, you can use lycopodium powder. That's what I'll find. A tub of lycopodium powder, and I will sprinkle it on to my needs and find out how large they are. Then when I meet someone I can write up the experiment and show them what they have to take on. Except they might have a growth rate I can't measure, or they might mutate, or even disappear. One thing I am certain of; I do not want to be betrayed, but that's quite hard to say, casually, at the beginning of a relationship. It's not a word people use very often, which confuses me, because there are different kinds of infidelity, but betrayal is betrayal wherever you find it. By betrayal, I mean promising to be on your side, then being on somebody else's."
I can't be afraid to be myself. That, I think, has been a recurring struggle for me in trying to make a relationship work. I lose sight of myself. Being with another person takes on a characteristic of its own, I stop being me.
So many things eat at me from the inside. I appreciate how Joy makes me feel not alone. But if we focus on such seriousness too much, that will just wear us down. It's hard to balance between serious and heavy, and playful and goofy. We try to, and I think it's possible. She's flexible and she's empathic. She doesn't just get stuck on one thing.
She sits at the table. I observe her. She's unaware. She shows what's in her mind on her face. I can tell when she's thinking, when she notices something. If she finds something funny or ironic, she'll smile. Her thoughtfulness and consideration, it's obvious she's paying attention, it's obvious she's doing something, involved in something, engrossed in something; she's here and alive and living.
She flips through a pile of papers, looking for something, grimaces not quite able to find it. She spots something important. She writes it down. She sighs in frustration. She shakes her head. So thoughtful, so focused, so comfortable, so intent. There is a reason why she loves me. She wouldn't otherwise.
(excerpt from Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson, pp. 170-171)
". . . But where was God now, with heaven full of astronoughts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don't think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend. I don't even know if God exists, but I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it. I have an idea that one day it might be possible, I thought once it had become possible, and that glimpse has set me wandering, trying to find the balance between earth and sky. If the servants hadn't rushed in and parted us, I might have been disappointed, might have snatched off the white samite to find a bowl of soup. As it is, I can't settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone. I would cross seas and suffer sunstroke and give away all I have, but not for a man, because they want to be the destroyer and never the destroyed. That is why they are unfit for romantic love. There are exceptions and I hope they are happy.
The unknownness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met. If you want to find out the circumference of an oil drop, you can use lycopodium powder. That's what I'll find. A tub of lycopodium powder, and I will sprinkle it on to my needs and find out how large they are. Then when I meet someone I can write up the experiment and show them what they have to take on. Except they might have a growth rate I can't measure, or they might mutate, or even disappear. One thing I am certain of; I do not want to be betrayed, but that's quite hard to say, casually, at the beginning of a relationship. It's not a word people use very often, which confuses me, because there are different kinds of infidelity, but betrayal is betrayal wherever you find it. By betrayal, I mean promising to be on your side, then being on somebody else's."
Friday, July 01, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
My past is marked by a trail of fuck ups. Fuck ups upon fuck ups upon fuck ups. Sparks of good and nice things that flash like lightning, but overall, what a mess I've made of my life; of this lifetime.
Lisa has been here for a week. She's been staying with Nobuko. She's great, I love hanging out with her. It would be cool if she moved here. If she's not around, though, she's no different than anyone else.
People are lame. I've been trying to spend as much time with her as possible and making time for her. She was complaining a few days ago how lame everyone else is. Most of the Oberlin crowd is hardly concerned that she's around, no big deal, they want to get together with her, but only when it's convenient for them.
Lisa has been here for a week. She's been staying with Nobuko. She's great, I love hanging out with her. It would be cool if she moved here. If she's not around, though, she's no different than anyone else.
People are lame. I've been trying to spend as much time with her as possible and making time for her. She was complaining a few days ago how lame everyone else is. Most of the Oberlin crowd is hardly concerned that she's around, no big deal, they want to get together with her, but only when it's convenient for them.
Tuesday, February 15, 1994
Day thirty-five
A stretch of cloudy, rainy days have been forecast. I can't figure out what I'm doing with my life. It's hard to get motivated. It's hard to get out of bed in the morning. It's hard to deal with the white-trash fuckheads upstairs. I'm going to move, but the earliest I can do it is the end of March.
It's hard to see anything in the future. It's hard to get motivated. It's hard to want a future. I'm nothing without Amina, I hinged too much of my confidence and worth on her; a side-effect of hinging my reality on her.
I don't have goals. I always thought I did, I always thought my goals would make themselves apparent, but at this point there is nothing. Even if I got a job to support myself, so what? If I broke off from the 'rents and never had to deal with them again, so what? Would that make me happy? They are the focus of my struggles in life and I have to get rid of them, but what comes next? Always the question what next?
I have a problem with commitment. Up to now, there has always been something next, something to look forward to, an imminent change. Finding a steady job with no end or change in sight is a horrifying thought. It would mean stagnation. To be bound down and lose my freedom, just to earn money. Freedom is a privilege kindly granted to me by money.
"How do you think I've been? Nothing's changed, my life has been miserable. Forgive my rudeness, but I don't care to discuss superficial details of my life which don't mean anything to you, or me for that matter. You have no idea what my life has become, you have no idea what effect you've had on me.
"I can look back at particular instances in my life and I can claim to have been confused. Now I can honestly say that I can't remember any time where I was truly confused as I am now. I thought I was confused when I was grappling with Hiromi and Luyên. Those were difficult times, but that wasn't confusion. That was indecision and selfishness; trying to get whatever I could.
"I wasn't confused when I was going through the mental hospitals. That was a direct and obvious consequence of the mixture of the 'rents and me. What happened to me was natural in those circumstances; it was normal in that situation. It wasn't confusion.
"What happened between us, that is confusion. For every thought I have of you, I have another contradictory thought. An anti-matter thought for every matter thought I have of you. Each are established and immutable fact, each with equal validity, but they can't exist together, that is confusion.
"I think of one of those thoughts and recognize the facts. Those thoughts lead me to consider the other thoughts and I realize that those are also facts. The thoughts keep leading back and forth to each other, both refusing to exist in the same space, both contradicting one another. They form a feedback loop and there are no solutions and no answers. That's what happens in my mind every time I think of you.
"I can't stay drunk enough to stay out of that feedback-thought-loop. All the things I've said to you were real and true. You may convince yourself otherwise and conjure clever excuses to justify anything you do with a clear conscience, but then you're far removed from anything that resembles my reality. But I suppose that is your starting point in processing anything I have to say to you.
"I have nothing to say besides this and nothing I want to hear from you. I asked you not to call unless you need me. Good-bye."
It's hard to see anything in the future. It's hard to get motivated. It's hard to want a future. I'm nothing without Amina, I hinged too much of my confidence and worth on her; a side-effect of hinging my reality on her.
I don't have goals. I always thought I did, I always thought my goals would make themselves apparent, but at this point there is nothing. Even if I got a job to support myself, so what? If I broke off from the 'rents and never had to deal with them again, so what? Would that make me happy? They are the focus of my struggles in life and I have to get rid of them, but what comes next? Always the question what next?
I have a problem with commitment. Up to now, there has always been something next, something to look forward to, an imminent change. Finding a steady job with no end or change in sight is a horrifying thought. It would mean stagnation. To be bound down and lose my freedom, just to earn money. Freedom is a privilege kindly granted to me by money.
"How do you think I've been? Nothing's changed, my life has been miserable. Forgive my rudeness, but I don't care to discuss superficial details of my life which don't mean anything to you, or me for that matter. You have no idea what my life has become, you have no idea what effect you've had on me.
"I can look back at particular instances in my life and I can claim to have been confused. Now I can honestly say that I can't remember any time where I was truly confused as I am now. I thought I was confused when I was grappling with Hiromi and Luyên. Those were difficult times, but that wasn't confusion. That was indecision and selfishness; trying to get whatever I could.
"I wasn't confused when I was going through the mental hospitals. That was a direct and obvious consequence of the mixture of the 'rents and me. What happened to me was natural in those circumstances; it was normal in that situation. It wasn't confusion.
"What happened between us, that is confusion. For every thought I have of you, I have another contradictory thought. An anti-matter thought for every matter thought I have of you. Each are established and immutable fact, each with equal validity, but they can't exist together, that is confusion.
"I think of one of those thoughts and recognize the facts. Those thoughts lead me to consider the other thoughts and I realize that those are also facts. The thoughts keep leading back and forth to each other, both refusing to exist in the same space, both contradicting one another. They form a feedback loop and there are no solutions and no answers. That's what happens in my mind every time I think of you.
"I can't stay drunk enough to stay out of that feedback-thought-loop. All the things I've said to you were real and true. You may convince yourself otherwise and conjure clever excuses to justify anything you do with a clear conscience, but then you're far removed from anything that resembles my reality. But I suppose that is your starting point in processing anything I have to say to you.
"I have nothing to say besides this and nothing I want to hear from you. I asked you not to call unless you need me. Good-bye."
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