Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Today in Brief

I heard the morning chirping of birds yesterday as I was still finishing my tour, and awoke early to have breakfast with my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin, so I am too sleep deprived to say anything meaningful, but at least I can say how things went...

The tour went better than I expected, but not good. But it could have gone worse, much worse. I was a wreck (I blamed nerves- but I was as sleep deprived as I was anxious)

At the end, the program manager said it went well and gave me the museum collection catalog (which means she thinks I will be a tour guide) so I passed. (and some people have to re-take theirs) There is lots of good news about what I did wrong, (mostly trying to do too much) which leads me to think I may be able to do this. Good news is she told my mentor that she can tell I am motivated...yay!

I had a great time with my family & friends. My friend came up to me and said "Can we go to the resturaunt soon...I am eating for two" I couldn't tell the whole tour and I look down, and their is her belly! So cute!

mood: tired

Monday, May 30, 2005

The people who want me to succeed

These people want me to succeed:

My surragate mom Aunt and her beautiful 13 year old daughter, my cousin (She is my #1 suicide preventer- I know if I did it it would screw her up) they are coming from the north part of our state! 3 hour drive!!!

My 3 Best college friends (one from 3 hours away!!!!) And one's son.

My roommates mom & stepdad!

My art mentor and my unofficial art mentor

My grandparents

Of course they arent the only ones who support me, they are the ones who were able to get the time off. But some really important people to me are coming, and I am so touched.

I am going to print this out and have it with me to keep me from procrastinating

mood: loved, anxious

I got myself out of bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am up, out of bed, even though I have a huge task today.

I went to bed last night, I had 2 days of not much sleep, and so I took quite a risk by not getting the tour done, because I have a hard time getting myself out of bed when I don't have a time I have to be somewhere and I have a lot to do.

This morning when I woke up the first time I decided to to follow Dr.T's instructions to talk to myself as I would a traumitized child. My usual thoughts are sort of jokingly hyperbolic or dry and sarcastic, I began thinking that way because it sort of made me laugh, but over time I think maybe my subconcious, like some people, are unable to tell it's a joke. I might have self talk like Jerry Stiller on Seinfeld which I can tell is a joke, but can be damaging if my subconcious thinks that I am really yelling at myself "TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE! SERENITY NOW!"

This morning the first time I got up I thought to myself, as I would to a sweet foster child I would adopt, "are you ready to get up yet? Do you want to sleep a little longer? Ok. you need your rest" and then later when I woke up again I said "Do you think you are ready to get up now? We've got alot to get done today. Maybe we can get some lunch at Leanne Chin's to get you on a happy start for the day." and it worked! I got up!

I used to think something like this would not work...like "well If I gave myself the choice to sleep all day then I WOULD sleep all day" but the truth is mentally bullying myself doesn't get me out of bed. I think it sends me back to sleep. Would you rush to get up if you had to hang out with someone who picks on you all day? Nope, and by saying I would treat myself I sent the message that I will have fun today, by thinking "JESUS! IT IS 11AM GET UP ALREADY WILL YOU?" I was sending myself a message that when I wake up I have a day of bullying to look forward to.

So... "Good job Diana! Now why don't we take a shower...then we can go have lunch and get a cappucino, and start making flashcards :) Remember the feeling you would get when you learned about these pieces? That is a feeling you can share with others! This is going to be fun!"

mood: a little anxious

Sunday, May 29, 2005

How could you David?

Meaningful dream last night.

In my dream there was some philosophy group or something, some group of intelligent people who gathered, I think it was a college organization, something that is open to everyone. It was about 8 people and I sat in on a meeting. One of the members of the group was David Cross, (a comedian who I have developed a crush on from watching Mr. Show and Arrested Development on many of my days off in May.) In the meeting I didn't say much, I felt shy. David Cross made some joke that I didn't get, and I quietly asked the person next to me what it meant.

Apparently I had dozed off, when I woke up I could see (ok- its a dream remember) that in front of each person's seat (not DC's-he was in the grass on a pillow under a tree) In front of each seat was engraved a line of poetry making fun of me. It implyed I was dumb and that they should ditch me, which they did. When I woke up everyone was gone.

They say if you are being chased in dreams you should turn around and confront what is chasing you. I did that once, and the next day I wasn't scared to go to my bus stop, where I had to pass a girl who said she would beat me up. Well I didn't know I was dreaming during the dream, but I did confront the group, I told them that they were behaving like idiots, like we were in Jr. High or something. And then I proudly shouted my clencher-"You aren't an organization- face it- your a CLIQUE!" (I was so proud)

This dream was totally about my crew these last two weeks. For the love of god the captain is in his thirties with a kid, but I feel like he is a snotty jock who is REALLY nice to my face, and then makes fun of me behind my back. In my dream, as in real life, I am annoyed, not devastated, which is an important thing to me. With my social phobia the bullying I recieved in elementary school and Jr. High was devestating. In fact, I am still operating in that mindset to this day, at times- what am I saying? usually- I think I am going to be attacked and mocked. But I didn't feel like shrinking these two weeks, I felt mad. I wish I got mad as a youth. I didn't. I am sad to say I believed the bullies. The dream was about my crew, and I stood up for myself.

I am glad to say it's over. I succeeded in blowing off the Detroit man, & keeping perspective with childish pilots, this week, but I still have to succeed at designing the tour. Its the day after tomorrow.

The only thing I have to fear is fear itself.

mood: procrastinate

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Part 2 aint happenin

This is my journal. I use it to work through things. The "Anatomy of..." post was to help reinforce that I have made a good choice in blowing off Detroit man. The work is done, I haven't thought of him a bit since the second time I saw him, so I am not going to go into the "analysis" of all of the red flags. I can take comfort in the fact that I followed my intuiton and move on to the important things.

I have used my therapy sessions to deal with dynamics relating to men, and all along I was having paralyzing anxiety about the tour guide position and didn't speak a word of it. Of course I didn't...I was avoiding thinking about it to try to make the anxiety go away. Wow, and surprise! I felt overwhelmed and hopeless now that the deadline is approaching. I went to therapy because I want to be successful. I am wicked smaht and ambitious, but have serious problems "applying myself" if you will.

This sadly does tie into my relationships with men. I realized something as I analyzed my enthusiasm for The Beautiful German. I am attracted to successful and ambitous (who I can see being successful) men. Now you are saying "so is every woman- those men have money" but honestly I sort of dislike too much money, because those men are usually too busy, and they think presents are an even trade-off for presence.

Success in my mind is not equivalent to money. The idea of living in a brand-new, too-big poorly-constructed house in the suburbs is a nightmare to me. So that waspy man who makes six figures selling paper making chemicals is not sucessful in my eyes. I am attracted to those men with passion, be it for scientific research, politics, art, teaching, or whatever, and dedicates their life to that. So a serious lute composer who pays his bills by being a janitor is more successful in my eyes than a millionaire ball-bearing distributer who oversees the entire northwest region. (Unless of course his life passion is ball-bearings)

I could see myself with The Beautiful German, because he was a journalist, he was making a mark on the world. But for what reason should I see him with me? This is not insecurity speaking, it is fair. I keep dating to live vicariously. (a strong sign of unhealthy boundaries) I am attracted to people who have the courage to take a chance on their dreams instead of taking the safer route of money. I put aside my dream of being a research scientist (I knew that whatever I did as a career, I wanted to be a published researcher- at least once, so I could contribute to the world's body of knowledge) But I am not doing that.

The flight attendant position was the first courageous move I had made since dropping out of college, and I am proud that I stuck through the grueling schedule and horrible pay, it has been well worth it. I am VERY proud that I applied for the Tour Guide position, it was a real long shot, but I got in. I stuck through the six month training course which is awesome. But in the final stretch I haven't done what needs to be done. I have frozen up, just like I have in the past. I am once again, just as I do at work, not living up to the potential I have.

Point is, I am attracted to go-getters yet am not behaving as a go-getter. I will not find the person who I feel is my match until I get back to being me, the person I am matching with.

As I have said that, I am feeling the desire to backtrack a bit. I might be going down the wrong path again. Perfectionism is what got me to the suicidal places in the first place, the belief that my value is in what I accomplish, not inherent. And I know I reached a really healthy place when I said "I am a flight attendant, just a flight attendant, and I have nothing to be ashamed of."

Wow, how frustrating. It is a very uncomfortable place for me to not have big goals. I feel like I always have to have control, a solid plan. I am noticing lately that my whole life I grasped so hard on having control of things that I have lived a small, controllable life.

Come to think of it I am still goal oriented, my goals are just smaller now. Which honestly may be the true key to success. I freaked out this month because I have to come up with an entire 45-60 minute tour. Perhaps it would be finished by now if I had focused on consecutive smaller goals of 1 painting at a time. I will do that now.

When I am overweight I am only attracted to good looking guys. During those times I don't feel secure enough in myself to date a fat, skinny or "beautiful on the inside" man. When I am attractive I have the confidence in myself to date the men I like, regardless of their apperance, because I am attracted to who they are. Perhaps if (I mean when);) I earn confidence in my achievements, I can be happy with a man who loves me and makes me laugh, despite the things he does. And if he is a person who leaves a mark, I can inspire him as much as he inspires me.

mood: procrastinate (kidding!)

Friday, May 27, 2005

Anatomy of an abusive relationship- Part 1

Last night, I stooped lower than I had in a long time...I watched Howard Stern. I usually can't. I can't tolerate mocking the disabled, and I swear everytime I pass his show while changing the channels, there is some developmentally or physically disabled person being teased like the show is a fifth grade classroom, but last night, he had on Chyna Doll, a former wrestler who was on VH1's "surreal life" (some people smoke, some people drink, I watch reality TV) And I REALLY wanted to see it.

On the show and on the Howard Stern show she was a mess, and part of the reason I am sure she put herself there was because she was (probably will remain) in an abusive relationship. The abused usually stay. To say this is insane is not far off, what happens in these situations is brainwashing, like Heaven's Gate. Or actually, its stockholm syndrome, where you start to believe your captors are on your side.

I have told my beloved Spidey that I have never been in an abusive relationship, but that is only because I left before the hitting started. You can see the signs, "red flags" the women who ignore these signs are women who's boundaries were violated young (sexual and/or physical abuse) so they have lost touch with what it feels like to have their boundaries respected, and/or their fathers were absent and/or distant, so the abused will cling on to any amount of attention they receive, because they are starved for it. My friend Andi was murdered by her abuser, this is something that hurts and shocks me, especially since I know I am not immune.

In all my depression and stress over being ditched by my flight crew last week (resolved by the way) I didn't write about my more recent visit with the Detroit man. He called me yesterday, I didn't pick up. I don't intend to. The evening we met he was intelligent and vulnerable. Last week he was such a dick I can't believe it's the same guy!

I saw that I was overnighting in Detroit. I had Howard Zinn's "People's History of the United States" (basically a history book that attempts to record actual history, in all of its ugliness) I had initially bought it for an Iraqi neighbor who had kindly given me a favorite book that I lost, but with the war I decided it could only fuel anti-American feelings in him so decided against it. Detroit seemed like the perfect person to give it to. He was poorly educated but obviously smart and thoughtful. I thought it was perfect. I called him telling him I would be in town, and would he like to have a clean cut evening, to go get some ice cream. I had to tell him it was the time of the month to get him to stop pushing the issue, (it was true) but I didn't care, I wasn't planning on sleeping with him again and so it shut him up without me having to say I dont like him "that way."

So in the van I introduced him to my crew as my buddy, and chatted with him, said "so I was thinking we should go get some ice cream after your shift and I will give you the book then" there was more useless banter- who knows what the fuck it was. But we agreed, and he was off at 10.

Around 9:45 I wanted to cancel, I was tired and had 2 hard days ahead of me. But I knew that would be rude of me, it would only be an hour, and besides, I hadn't had dinner and I was starving. At 10:15 he called saying he wanted to go home and shower and change. I tried to convince him he doesn't have to look pretty, just to turn his uniform shirt inside out (hell I was wearing mine) and lets go. He was adamant, I was annoyed but assumed he wouldnt be more than a half hour.

At 11:15 I called him, he had just gotten out of the shower. He told me he "had to take care of some things" first. I was getting so annoyed at this point. I decided to wait downstairs and blog on his ass. LOL. I finally decided fuck him. I was going to meet him there, it was getting out of hand. I arrived at Big Boy at about 12AM. I contemplated waiting to order, and realized hell no. I sensed I could be finished eating by the time he actually arrived and guess what...I was.

When I arrived, some sweet bus boy said I had a beautiful smile. The host agreed and gushed on me for a glorious minute saying "we havent gotten alot of smiles like yours today, please come here every day" It was very sweet, and so validating to me.

He finally arrived at 12:30. He was dressed all in blue (funny- he was dressed all in blue the night I met him too.) When he arrived I kindly but assertively told him I had to be in bed by 1. Things (him) were just wierd the whole time. He said some wierd ass thing like he didn't want to go get ice cream but I never gave him the chance. That is insane. I was asking him for his input!

We were sitting in a section of the resturaunt with nobody around us, and he kept interrupting me and saying "why are you talking so loud?" at the same time he is nearly whispering all of his words. I did say that I work on an airplane, which is true, and I probably speak in too loud of a voice, but in this particular situation didn't matter, because there was no-one around to hear me anyway. I made this point "who exactly am I bothering?" and gestured to the empty seats. He said "look at you your so dramatical" yes, I remember him saying dramatical.

We spoke of the book and politics/history in general, I started to enjoy myself and brought up how I regularly get frustrated by a specific point we were discussing. Just as I was enjoying myself he told me I shouldn't let this stuff get to me, not in a caring way- in a way like "you deal with this wrong" my favorite part of that statement is that it came from a man who self medicates with Marijuana! LMAO!

He was so irritating. He had this stupid "cool guy" front on that embarrased me frankly. He was even in a hurry to drop me off at the hotel (I was glad- but pissed off- I could have just left the book at the front desk! I missed out on a lot of sleep while he was "taking care of a few things" When we got in the car there were 2 roses, I smiled and joked that "you silly- you left your girlfriends roses in the car when you knew I would be in it" that idiot took me seriously (hmmmmm, defensive- something to hide?)

He called yesterday morning and left the stupidest message. He could have said "I was just calling to see what you were up to" but instead he stretched it out. God I wished I saved that message so I could have written what he had said verbatim. It sounded like a parody you see on comedy sketch shows it was so dumb. I don't intend to remain friends with him, and in my next post I will explore the red flags that most people, but not all, can see would lead eventually to abuse.

Side note: I got my hair cut too short. I didn't know it was possible that anyone could look so wholesome. Yesterday I looked like the cute tomboy in the 80's sitcoms that loved the boy, and he could barely tell he was a girl. Oh well, it'll grow.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Birthday ended well

Thank you you beauties for your sweet comments. Loser captian wasn't the cause of it, he was the straw that broke the camel's back (well he was the second to last straw...the party was the last straw)

The really good news is the whole time I knew I was thinking irrationally. If a schitzophrenic knows that the dancing purple monkeys aren't real, they are much more likely to be healed. I knew my thinking was sick. Since the therapist suggested I increase my medication dosage I took an extra pill today. I know this is safe because the dosage I was taking is only a starter dosage, most people take more in the first place. I took it so I would have the energy to make a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and make it through the birthday party without ruining all of my friend's time (my friends threw me a party- and I am depressed- obviously the depression is chemical, not environmental.) I asked my sister Linda to stop at a coffee shop, where I got a strong drink. I was back to humanity in 45 minutes (Linda and my friend Carrie were so good to me! Linda was supportive, Carrie said, "you can be in your black hole if you want" which made me laugh and take it all less seriously.)

And thats the other good news, I have had the courage to show my sickness to my friends. For years I have hidden it (Linda grew up with me, so she saw more of it, but I still tried to hide it) Today I finally showed them the ugliest truth, and I am so glad I did.

At the party my friend's 5 year old son made a "pin the Diana to the airplane and the parachute" which was alot of laughs. Linda and I had burritos, and there were nachos at the party, and then the 5 year old had made me an ice cream cake :) Linda and I played connect four with the 5 year old, and watched his wheels turn as we went over strategy. And when he went to bed we drank daquris (not willing to spell it right) and played a card game from college called "Pit"

I feel sick as hell- but fortunately its a fun kind of sick.

Thanks again y'all

mood: gluttonous

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Happy fucking birthday to me!

I have something to confess...I can't handle this.

I am proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone and applying for this tour guide position, but this has been too much! I need fucking time alone, and for the last fucking six months it has been work then classes, then work then classes. I have had to be "on" basically ALL THE TIME and I have only just recently joined the world of the living, the two years prior to this I was living day-to-day, with my only life goal being not killing myself. This is too much all at once. I think it was a good thing for me to do, but I am buckling.

I am supposed to go to some stupid tour guide party. Fuck you and your fucking parties. I have given so much of my fucking energy to this fucking museum, and now you expect me to come fucking socialize?

This is in bad form that I am not going, I RSVPed, and, I am not able to even go to the tour guide luncheon. But I would be late and only stay for a half hour anyway- me bawling my head off right now is just my way of giving me what I want- an excuse to not go!

I hate to admit it, but I am having "suicidal ideation" for the second time this week. It's a wierd selfish thing, like that is something for me. Like I deserve some time to myself...and dying would provide that WTF? I talked to the therapist about this and she has hooked me up with a psychiatrist and suggested I increase my medication in the mean time. This would be a very good idea. I feel myself slipping. I am really not sad at all, but my body isn't cooperating with me. I can't move or think quickly enough.

Something really shitty happened to me this week. My desire would be to take full accountability but my captain really fucked me over. I showed up at the last minute for two flights, not late, but not appropriately early. Well on the third day, in the morning, we had a van time of 8AM, and I arrived at 8:01, to see the van drive off. I could have been stabbed, I could have had a heart attack, but the captain not only didn't check, he didn't even tell the driver we were missing someone. This is really bad form on his part, really bad.

I want it to just go away. I hate pointing the finger when I screwed up (a minute late is bad, but the punishment does not fit the crime) I have to fly with this motherfucker next week. I am so pissed. This was his way of punishing me for arriving at the last minute (and maybe for giving a book [all he knew about-but I guess sex IS the only thing some people could imagine] to a ghettoish black van driver) and he performed the punishment anonymously, he wanted me to miss the van and feel punished, but for the flight to not be delayed, then he could make it seem like he is a good guy and on my side (what I believed, until a buddy, who was in the van, told me that it was 100% intentional on his part.)

Now inflight has called me, and I have to explain why there was a delay-basically the same as tattling on him. He could have just waited 30 seconds to a minute for me, and then told me when I got in the van not to show up at the last minute, but instead he had to be the biggest two faced jerk in the world. If you saw how nice to me he acted the whole trip you would have sworn we were friends.

I am so angry at life. I know this is disease speaking, but I feel like I give and give to life, and it wont give anything back...like its a one way relationship. I am aware of how sick this thinking is, and that I have to adjust my medication, quick. I have to make an appointment tomorrow, every day I wait the harder it will get.

Andogynous depression huh? I am going to adopt foster kids with andogynous depression. This just can't be in vain. If my life doesn't mean something then it's not worth it. I better make a fucking mark on this fucking earth because honestly, right now I am angry that I am here.

I am not willing to come up with a good conclusion to this post.

mood: I feel like going to a party, where the attention is on me
mood: I feel 28

Monday, May 23, 2005

Really good pot. "Psychic" pot. Really rare and hard to find!

There are plenty of reasons that I have a hard time with dating. Today I recieved validation of something I suspected. Some people believe in soul-mates. Some believe that there are "many lids for each individual pot" which is what I believe. But I have sensed that I am a uniquely shaped ceramic, meaning there are fewer lids out there that will fit. Today I get the results of the Myers Briggs personality inventory, and learned that my personality type INFJ, is only 1% of the population! Thats rare pot!

It is exciting to read the results...I really feel it fits me. It suggests my personality type "has an unusually strong drive to contribute to the welfare of others and genuinely enjoys helping their fellow man" which is SO true, that is why so many people tell me I am "the best flight attendant ever" ;) . It also says my personality type is empathic and that most psychics are INFJs!

I also learned something bad and good at the same time. My depression type is andogynous, which means it is neither a masculine or feminine depression. If you were psychic like me you would know that that is a joke. Really it means that it is chemical and genetic, and that no matter how excellent my life skills are it will still come back unless it goes away on its own. This is disheartning because it takes some of the power I have away, but it is also a bit of a relief, because it means that times like now, when I am trying really hard to take care of myself, that the depression creeping back is for physiological reasons, and not my fault, so I don't have to feel like a failure.

Tomorrow is my birthday I will be 28 and couldn't be happier about it. I see it as a honor badge, I am approaching 30 so the way I think (adultish) is no longer weird, it is expected. Please send large quantities of cash in lieu of gifts.

mood: rested, better than this afternoon

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Your dreams are more vivid on psychotropic medications

Last night I had the most mind blowing dream. The tears are welling now. I dreamt that my mother had an apartment somewhere, and we (myself, my father, and my stepmother) went to clean it out. In the dream I was my age right now, but my dad and my (ex) stepmother were themselves years ago. I am crying now.

Somehow, the owners of the apartment were kind enough to keep the apartment as it was for all of these years rent free, because they felt bad for what our family had been through, but now was time to clean the place out. I had contemplated moving to the apartment, but it was in the suburbs (tried that- didn't go well) Going there was so wonderful. I was able to feel again what it was like before she died, to try to remember what it was to feel like a child. (nothing had dust, everything was as it would be had it been left for a week)

I started in my room, finding a sparkly blanket that made me feel like royalty, and one of those furry polyester blankets (in my dream it had cheetahs on it) that seemed so luxurious to me as a kid. I found outfits I used to wear (more girly and princessy than I wore in real life- but those were the kind I would have liked to wear at that age- I was a priss) I was most excited to see a hula skirt, In my dream there was some beloved memory of this grass skirt.

I was only halfway through my bedroom when my dad and stepmom were telling me that it was time to finish. I felt a strong feeling of injustice and sensed that I had to speak up, I had to stand my ground. These items were precious. They were my link to the past, physical, material items I could hold in my hand to transport me back to the life I had lost. Even more important was my mother's room, this was an opportunity to meet, as a woman, the woman that my mother was. I would have to piece it together item by item, but it was all I had...it would be wrong to take that away from me.

Through convincing, stalling, and luck I was able to explore more. I even was able to talk to her spirit for a few minutes, adult daughter to mother. I remember wanting to take and wear all of her clothes. (even though she was 5' 10" 125 lbs.) I had found poetry and songwriting, wallets and even birth control.

She had addressed a letter to me, and it was framed. My dad said it was my choice to read it or not, they wanted to wait until I was an adult to read it. I don't remember what it said but I remember it being anti-climactic (I had assumed it would be a suicide note or a note warning me about the illness of my dad)

I woke up slowly, in the warm embrace of my mother's house. Not unhappy to be awake, but desiring to drift back for a few more minutes.

Last night my dad came over and helped me pick up some shelves I had purchased from a Pier One imports that was having a going out of business sale. Together moved and assembled these shelves, it was all a great success. Spending this time with my dad was lovely and painful at the same time. Painful as it always is. He is a very angry person, he exploded because some guy was "driving in the middle of the road" when its honestly just a narrow street so everyone does. That is painful because it's hard to see someone you love in pain (how awful to get so angry over something so easily) but it was lovely becasue I was detached from it. I could see he was in pain, but it was his pain, not mine, and I didn't feel the responsibility to take it from him. (or the confusion of understanding the world- "hes pissed- so that driver must have done something wrong- I will be sure I don't do that thing wrong and piss people off because he was really mad")

It was also painful because he has a cataract, as I expected would happen he is aging quickly, and it will be my responsibility to look after him, since he is not 100% competent (I imagine sometime in my life I will be given the legal rights to make decisions for him) A bittersweet upside to this is as he becomes more like a cantankerous old man, he becomes just that, a cantankerous old man. He is no longer the daddy who scared and confused me, he is now becoming a non-threatning old man who you just let him have his way because arguing just makes him and everyone upset.

The dream I am sure was a reflection on what I was putting the shelves up for. I have saved many of her books, clothes and other "artifacts" as well as a few toys from my childhood. I noticed last night that it may be time for me to let go of some of these things. Giving away the plastic dinosaur will not rob me of the memories of filling his mouth up with water during bathtime, as my mom put strawberry shampoo in my hair.

I had a nice (relatively nice, literally and figuratively) time last night. My dad and I accomplished a goal together as a team, no power struggles, no severe anxiety attacks (minus a few angry outbursts at the world) Yes, I was embarrassed by his strange and inappropriate behavior in public, but I have only one dad, and he happens to be mentally ill. I used to be embarrassed by it maybe because I didn't accept it. I think I somehow thought he could be normal if he really tried, and that I could "fool" people into thinking he was a normal dad. I guess I am getting over that (almost 30 hee hee) Hes my dad. Those are my cards. I have to play them.

BUT one good thing about having a crazy dad...a crazy dad thinks you are brilliant for buying 44 shelves and 10 frames for them. He tells you "You got a great deal...this lumber alone would cost 10 dollars a piece" so he doesnt grumble about transporting 4 times as many shelves as you can actually install in your apartment's storage locker. (oh my god they are georgous! If I didn't have my crazy dad I would not have inherited the crazy eye that buys GEORGEOUS shelves at moving sales :) )

mood: nostalgic

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

With friends like these...

Yesterday, my pilot buddy Earl was "nice" enough to let me practice my graduation tour on him.

It is very fair to say that contemporary art, or oops! sorry Karrison, "The art movements in the twentieth century that moved beyond the 'imitation of nature' ideal and expanded on symbolism, abstraction and sometimes, but not always the conceptual." So I realize "that" kind of art isn't for everyone, and that is very fair. I am not a fan of a lot of figurative art. Even if it looks JUST LIKE a real apple it is boring to me if it doesn't have any underlying meaning (lots of ancient figurative art does have underlying meaning- it used acceptable "imitation of nature" - but hid in them subversive messages!)

No matter if you like it or dislike it, you sound like a fucking idiot if you call 20th century art "fake." Its harder to understand. Someone who just learned to speak can point to a figurative painting and say "tree mommy!" It was an adult who said minamalism is not painting or sculpture, it's theater...because it is all about how your body relates to the art objects. Calling it "fake" just shows that your mind is a little closer to that of a 2 year old.

Once again, you don't have to like it. Half the tour guides at the museum think art should be beautiful. I disagree, but we are both making, or attempting to make, EDUCATED judgements. I, myself, have used those words "I could do that" and now, after LEARNING how and/or why those pieces were made, I was either proven wrong, or inspired to express my own ideas through art.

But this post isn't about art, it's about who you spend your time with. After yesterday I see Earl in a completely different way. I think he is an unbelievable embarrasing loser. It was a good experience for me, I really was challenged by being heckled the whole time, but problem is instead of engaging him (the goal) I just beat him. Thats not the type of game I was interested in playing. I didn't want to compete- (you behave like an idiot - I show you, perhaps a little over your head, what a loser you really are) He would not let me help him understand them- he treated it all like a huge joke, and it insulted me.

I really thought there was more to him. I knew he was a smart-ass but he has degrees in hard subjects and liked hanging out with me, I assumed his cheezy suburban mindset was because of the company he kept, not because of a character flaw. Yesterday he did, however, share a story on how he identified that a Flight Attendant's handbag was in fact faux Louis Vuitton (I could have told you that- we don't even make enough to afford a Kathie Lee Gifford handbag unless it is on layaway) But Earl could tell because of the straightness of the stitching and some other shit I just ignored. This is not the kind of person I want to spend my free time with.

I just hate blowing people off. It feels weasely. I suppose I could tell him assertively how I feel and leave it at that. I hate ending friendships, but it's worse to keep people around who you don't like. (which is also more insulting to them.)

I spent the rest of the day with my beautiful sister Linda. I was almost too worn out to see her, which is proof that we should put the limited energy we have in this life into worthy people.

mood: burdened

Monday, May 16, 2005

Fuck Planned Obsolescence

I have been flying for two years now and the road is beginning to wear on me. It's not the work or the hotels that get to me, it's the sharp contrast of my work and home life.

When I fly, I rarely speak to my friends, unless I know their numbers by heart or have them written down. I speak with my family even less. At work I often crave conversation, as I am sometimes stuck in hotel rooms for half of a day, too short to leave but too long to just sit and watch TV. When I get home I don't want to call anyone, I crave solitude. At work I am friendly and outgoing, so the last thing I want after 4 days of work is to deal with more people.

I bought a PDA phone from a pilot and just recently set it up. It is a jewel and it makes me feel more continuity between work and home. When I want to be in touch with my friends (or they want to be in touch with me) I am available. And, I can check my e-mail from just about anywhere (except after the door is closed...That could interfere with the aircraft's communication and navigation systems)

The only problem with this particular phone, is the battery lasts a short time, and I have a Macintosh so the cradle wont plug into my computer. I had programmed a ton of stuff into the phone but lost it when the battery drained, I don't want that to happen again.

Today I went to a Mac store to get some sort of adapter. They had one for me, but I would need OS X (operating system 10), and I have 9.5. What do I need to do to get OS X? Pay $125. If I am going to pay one hundred and fucking twenty five dollars it will go towards a new computer, so I priced those. $1000 for the cheapest laptop (surprise!)

Hypothetically lets say I spend a seventeenth of my yearly income on a laptop, I could install the OS X on my desktop computer too so I could sync them (and my phone) right? Wrong. But, I could buy the $1000 dollar computer AND the $125 OS X! What a great suggestion! Wow! He also had the suggestion of me buying the $1000 dollar computer with OS X pre-installed, and then paying $199 for an OS X that can be installed on 5 computers! Wow great idea! I have a perfectly sufficient computer, but it can't be used for any of the new stuff that people use computers for, because it doesn't have OS X. What a great racket they have going there!

The day has actually been quite good (besides that.) I had a "Writing Through Art" training at the museum. Not only was it fun, but I got to hang out with a woman I completely worship. SHE approached ME and invited me out to lunch with her and her AMAZING circle of friends! (smart, current, and hilarious!) I literally LOVE AND WORSHIP these women, and am FLOORED in the fact that they have embraced me!

After lunch I applied for a scholarship at the local gym (believe it or not I may have "too high" of an income for the scholarship! Imagine my income being too high for anything!) I found a pair of running shoes for $30 and priced some backpacks for my bike.

It is a shame to allow life's little dramas to mar a perfectly lovely day. I preach a lot about the value of material things (or lack thereof) so perhaps I can shut the hell up and count my lucky stars that I have running water and electricity.

I still, however, think water would taste better in a coffee shop with a Wi Fi enabled half pound laptop the thickness of a CD. What better place to post about what a difficult life I lead?

mood: ungrateful

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Oh God, Oh God, Oh GOD!

My roommate Emma just took me to a performance of an Indian dance dance company. The show was dancing, chanting, singing, and instruments all interpreting Catholic and Hindu Poems about God. It was so beautiful I cried like 8 times.

I realized something while watching it. In therapy I explained that I felt that I deserve to have sex because it makes me feel truly alive, Dr. T said that is a sign that I don't have enough things in the rest of my life that makes me feel that way. I interpreted that to mean I don't have enough fun in my life, but I realized that fun is not the "alive" I get from sex, it is spirituality.

I feel this "aliveness" when I attend art events. I feel it when I run. I feel it when I dance. That feeling is God. I feel "alive" because I have tapped the energy of the Universe.

It makes sense why sex is the only spiritual experience I allow myself. It is the only experience I can think of that existed only after my mother was gone. So much in my life I avoid things I love, because pain and anxiety so often accompanies happiness, perhaps because happiness taps into a part of my brain that has the memories of my mom, which are naturally tied to loss. At 15, when my grandmother died, I had already lost my mother to death, my stepmother to leaving, and my father to alcoholism. Something snapped in my head, the association was made: if you love something...it will be snatched away. I have been hardened ever since, and am yet to shake the association of joy and searing pain.

Sex is a joy completely associated with "adulthood." I put adulthood in quotes because I began my sexual activity in adolecence, but it still happened during my second incarnation, the person I was after she died. Her death and the change of my life was so abrupt that I became a completely new person (this is not unusual.)

My challenge now is to tap in to the universe as much as possible. It makes perfect sense why I feel that men are so essential to happiness, if they are the only way that I allow myself to be close to God, then of course I will feel empty without male company. A life full of art, excercise, exposure to nature and everything that is beautiful will allow me to tap into God's energy without a companion. I am sure there is some mind-blowing synergy that happens when two completely fullfilled people come together. I will not have that if I am not living life to it's fullest.

The way I have been living has been like eating a diet of only fat. I can survive on a diet like this, fat can be converted to energy, but to thrive I also need carbohydrates & protein. Yes, I have gotten something positve from the sex, but by depriving myself of art, fun, sports, my friends & family, all of the things that make life joyful, I have been "malnourished."

I wonder if the powerful spiritual aspect of sex is why there are so many religions that use celibacy as a religious practice. I know that when a person does not have sex for a long time their sexual energy is sublimated by other things, I am sure that is the main reason. But I wonder if it is also about tapping in directly to God. If you feel God while having sex you might associate the spiritual feelings with that person, not with the actual source.

this morning: broken hearted/depressed
with sister: happy
before performance: excited
now: spiritual

Saturday, May 14, 2005

I think these things are silly...really I do!

If you havent seen the film SLC punk go rent it. Ah- screw that- go buy it! Its good enough, I promise. And while you are at it get the soundtrack.

Someone sent this quiz to me...I just HAD to!!!

You are John "The Mod!"

Which SLC Punk are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Friday, May 13, 2005

Ich bin ein Berliner

I am in El Paso. It was 86 degrees today. The pilots and I went to the pool, layed around and talked for hours. It was absolutely beautiful. Then an hour or so ago we went to a cute tex-mex-TGIFridays type of place and I had delicious tamales and flan.

I have thought of him (The Beautiful German) quite a few times. It has been about a month exactly. I met him on a flight here, the only other time I had been to El Paso. Every wall reminds me of how it felt to meet him.

I know how this sounds..."she is this hung up on a one night stand?" No, foolishly or not I was not thinking it would be a one night stand. I knew we could not have a relationship, but I assumed we would begin a friendship (every word I type keeps feeling tremendously cliche)

I first layed eyes on him as he entered the plane. He looked alot like David Arquette. Really scruffy, really laid back, he was dressed in the most casual baggy clothes. I kid you not, I looked at him and thought "see, THATS the kind of guy you would want as a boyfriend" He looked like someone fun to be with.

Himself and a very artsy looking guy were sitting in the far back that didn't recline. I asked if they wanted the emergency exit row. I can't remember what he said, but a moment later I felt compelled to go mess with them. I assumed they were british for some reason. When I heard him speak I said "Your German!- I love Germany"

I told him the cities I had been to including Weimar. He said it was a very interesting city and asked me if I had fun there. I said absolutely not (I went to visit the concentration camp there) He sounded almost apologetic as he told me he liked the city, I said "I think it's good to see the positive things about regimes/people who have done horrible things...if you only see the bad you can point the finger and say 'look what those bad people did' if you see everything bad and good, you can relate to them, so you can see that those things can happen in the present too" (It sounded better when it came out of my mouth than on here) he said "Oh my god I think I love you- that is like the smartest thing I have ever heard" Being called beautiful is nice, but having my intelligence or character complimented just melts me and- I was his.

I was cool, I left soon after and didn't crowd him. But during the beverage service I leaned in and said "This is the flight attendant call button, if you want more coffee use this and I'll bring it to you" he said "Oh I would never do that, but I would use it hoping you would come and chat" I said yay and went to talk with him after I was done with my work stuff.

It wasn't magical, it was feet-on-the-ground. He was really relaxed and funny. I didn't feel infatuation about a man, I felt connection with a human. We saw eye to eye on many things, and talked about things of substance. He was in El Paso working on a project documenting something about the criminal justice system in El Paso/Juarez and didn't tell me much, which was okay with me because I assumed I would see the final product.

The things going through my head were these:
1. THIS is what it feels like! The feeling I had was one that could be the foundation to build a healthy relationship on- not a feeling I am struck with often.
2. One exists! I SINCERELY have considered that maybe there is no-one compatible with me. Whether you consider me fabulous or rediculous, no one would say I am not unique. I have wondered maybe if my life has just been too wierd, and that there is no way to find a lid that fits this pot.
3. He lives in Berlin. I am not going to be able to have a serious relationship with this particular man, it's just not realistic. If anything happens, I have to know it's not forever. I need to go into this with my eyes open.
4. Best of all- I have been blessed by meeting this man. He was an announcement from the universe..."STOP CONFORMING!" The more successful I am at fitting into a role that is not authentically me...the less likely I will be able to connect with a person who would fit the TRUE me, if I ever were to meet him. In fact, he felt a little out of my league. He was comfortable in his skin, and able to be real- even if real is a little scruffy. I am still trapped in a mindset of how I should be, and felt very phony next to him (but in a good way- like "Woman! Be yourself! That is when you are at your best!"

We agreed to have coffee after the flight. (I also let him know I was looking forward to giving him a smooch) He called the hotel and told me the coffee shop was closed, he asked me if I wanted to have breakfast in the morning, or hang out at the hotel and make out. (Alluding to a previous topic of discussion- not as skeezy as it sounds) I of course opted for the make out. He came over and we drank coffee on the patio. There was a prom going on and two adorable (out in high school- WOW!) girls asked us to take their picture, it was just nice.

We went to the hotel room to make out, but it accelerated to sex (of course.) The whole thing was very awkward and mediocre. After a medium length of time he came, apoligized, and promised he would do it again. (Fine with me...the first time is for him, the second for me) A while later I "expressed my appreciation" of him and cuddled and talked for a bit. Then he said he wanted to go to sleep! WHAT????? Can you say blue balls people?!?!?!?! I am not sure how I reacted, but I am sure I looked upset. Being, um, neglected, especially if the fire has been lit, makes me feel like a 3 year old who doesn't get candy. (I was familiar with this feeling from living with Haseem) I rolled next to him and said firmly in his ear "that is fine- but you are going to fuck me in the morning." Besides Haseem of course, that sort of statement can usually get me results. He said "I don't respond well to authority." ????! I can't remember the rest of the discussion, but I was sure he would in the morning. I didn't sleep much (coffee at night) and woke just at the right time to fit another round in before he had to leave. I thought I could wake him up with my hand, but nothing. When he did finally wake up he didn't even get morning wood...I didn't even know that was possible. I was frustrated to say the least (and felt a bit rejected) But sex wasn't all I was into him for.

At breakfast, he suggested we could maybe meet in a US city. I have also really wanted to travel abroad lately and said I would consider Germany again soon. We kissed goodbye, and I felt we would speak again. I emailed him a few days later, told him I enjoyed the time we spent, and that I looked forward to looking at his project/ other work. He wrote back saying "Kisses K...Will get back to you soon" I thought it was very sweet. I knew he was wrapping the project right now, and just appreciated the note that he was too busy.

But that was it. It has been a month now and nothing. I am trying to make a point to really feel the disappointment. I can see that that is what I skip over with guys. I don't let myself feel the disappointment, I just try to move on, but that disappointment builds and builds, just like anger or sadness.

It was eye-opening to have the one-night-stand with Detroit man. I could see that TBG and I were not in-tune sexually. At first I thought I was too agressive and scared him off, then I thought he was selfish and didn't "get the job done" but now as I look back we were on different sexual wavelengths. He was very slow and sensual. Taking every moment in, very tactile. I was agressive and passionate. Primal. Both mindsets are sexy, but at the same time neither of us were satisfied, and the fact that neither of us tuned into the other suggests sexual incompatibility.

I am contemplating writing him. As Friends. The main reason is I want to know about the El Paso/Juarez project. I could get this info by Googling his name but I actually, out of respect, don't want to be behind his back like that. Who thinks I should? I shouldn't should I? I will leave the computer until tomorrow to prevent doing anything impulsive.

mood: sun-shiny (or should I say SOL-ly)

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

[Help me] Get a life

Last night, and my friends' house, I couldn't sleep. Yes, I was cold, yes I was hungry, but the real reason I couldn't sleep is I did a silly silly thing and had caffeine after 6PM.

I decided to be nice to myself and not think to myself "that was stupid" I decided to treat myself as a traumitized child and think, "I'm not mad at you, but please pay attention to the consequence of the choice you made" I also chose to see the positive side of that mistake: I had alot of time to reflect, and I did quite a bit of reflecting, in my friends' home, which put my eyes on the prize.

There are too many topics I came up with (I'll write about them- for sure) but one stands out. Dr. T, like the whole world, said in my last session "Imagine your sexuality is your most precious treasure...you wouldn't wan't to give that to just anyone would you?" Well I have heard that before, and my response is "Sure it's my most precious treasure, but why should I punish MYSELF because I haven't found someone worthy?" After "getting some" I feel really alive and awake, like a weight is off my shoulders, this mood makes me attractive, and I am more likely to meet quality people. So what sense would it be to withold this from myself?

Dr. T. said it sounds like the problem is not the feeling that sex gives me, it's that I am not getting that feeling from other parts of my life.


This all-business strategy didn't work, or maybe it did, it's "Mal-adaptive behavior that has worked for me, so I continue it" <----- Dr. T says that alot. I am seeing that all work and no play makes Diana a dull girl, but also something worse- nuts. There is a lot of painful things I am going to have to do in therapy, but it's exciting to know that one thing I am going to have to change about myself is allow myself to have more fun! To enjoy myself more!

Something I thought about while lying in bed is that I wished I was home. Why? I spend so many of my days off at home while other people are living their lives. I need solitude, I am part introvert, but sitting at home for 3 days, which sounds like heaven to me, is not giving me what I am hoping it will.

I think I am eager to stay at home for a string of days because I am chasing the possibility I might relax. Every now and then, when I haven't spoken to anyone for a few days, I relax, and when I am relaxed I can accomplish amazing things. My behavior is like a gambling addiction, I keep playing and losing, with the hopes/reinforcement of winning now and then. Every 10 times I stay home a long time I get that relaxation effect, (which feeds my association- solitude=relaxation) but problem is, the other nine times the excess solitude becomes isolation and lonliness, not relaxation. This point is going in a number of directions, but there is action I would like to take right away, striking while the iron is hot if you may.

Since starting this blog, I have logged TONS of time on the computer. Sometimes (most of the time, I will spend 1-2 hours on a single post.) I think every second I am writing is a second well spent. If I gained 5 pounds from sitting and writing so much, I would think it was absolutely worth it.

I also spend alot of time reading and commenting on other blogs. I think this is also time well spent. I think it has been very good for me to be able to communicate with such open-ness, a way people don't communicate with each-other in person. And it is a blessing to be able to turn my personal pain into a source of insight that allows me to help others. But there is a very unhealthy way I spend my time online, and that is mindlessly/obsessively checking for updated blogs.

I used to do this with my e-mail. I would check it and check it, sometimes every 10 minutes. It is like the gambling addiction again, I keep checking, and every few times I am rewarded by an e-mail, continuing the behavior. Thank God for Yahoo messenger...because now all I need to do to check my mail is peek at the computer. I do it alot, but peeking is a lot less disruptive than sitting down, opening the page, and entering my password.

With the blogs this unhealthy behavior is showing itself. I check and check and check my favorite blogs for updates when I feel like reading a blog. I have witnessed myself going through a cycle of 5-10 blogs, and then starting over again! This could be 5 minutes later! (very embarrasing- but thats the point, I would like this to change)

On the flipside, there are sites I love visiting, but who's authors don't update often. Since a site update is the gambling equivilent of a "win" I check these sites less often, and then I miss out when they HAD in fact updated.

So the action I want to take is set up a site feed reader- the blog equivelent of Yahoo! messenger. Please offer advice if you know of good ones (online based please- I have a Macintosh OS 9.2)

I have successfully subscribed to one of my favorites that I check obsessively- Kill The Goat But alot of you others do not allow site feed subscriptions. So, if you want me to have more joy in my life, please go under "SETTINGS"- choose "SITE FEED" and Where it says "publish site feed?" select yes.

If you don't it means you don't want my happiness. (heaven forbid I set actual limits on myself)

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Plan B

I take every self-respecting thing I said back.

I decided that the first man who asks me to marry him I will say yes, even if (like Detroit man) he says "Do you promise to never make me mad and always be flossy" or (like Batman) "I met you last week but I am certian I am going to marry you and by the way I love you and my parents will DESPISE you because you arent Jewish and will run our lives." Why am I so eager? I want a house with a picket fence and a doggy thats why!

Like a teenager I am "sleeping over" at my friends' except it's in the guest room of their house! They are renting, but it's a house, they are engaged, and I am seeing that I am starting to feel a little old for the apartment life.

I don't think anything is wrong with the apartment life, but there is something so lovely about moving somewhere and staying put. People say that when you stay somewhere a long time things accumulate, thats not the case with me. The longer I am in one place, the more orderly things become. It's all a matter of having just the right place for things (in fact, that's the major reason I am messy, I never stay in one apartment long enough for everything to find its perfect place.)

I have stayed where I am for more than a year. Oh how glorious. When I was in school, I moved 9 times in 2 years. And with a deceased mother, I have more belongings than most college kids, try a household's worth. I started packing things in Sterilite boxes, becuase I knew most would not be unpacked. They are the best purchase I have ever made, and make moving, and life much easier for me.

I don't have to go anywhere but Emma (my roommate) might. She may study ESL teaching in Timbuktu, she hasn't bothered to tell me her plan. I am both hopeful she wont go and eager for it to happen. I just don't like the limbo. Her and I have different, often conflicting communication styles, which causes misunderstandings and frustration on my part. On the other hand I really respect her, I can't say the same for alot of the party-people I have lived with in the past. She is a hippie to the N-th degree which makes her a good match with me.

If she left I could find a flight crew roommate, which would be great, because they would never be there. But, if she stayed, there would be no new dynamics to figure out. Even if she does stay, I am pretty sure she will move in with her boyfriend. He is a jewel, and I would certianly approve, all I want is to know what is going to happen.

I think the real plan is I need to buy a condo. If I thought I would get married in the next 5 years perhaps I would wait, but if by now I have only had 2 long-term relationships, neither of them functional, than perhaps I need to be realistic, & create a good life for myself WITHOUT a man, so I don't end up with someone wrong for me. Besides, it is a harder transition to get married & divorced than it is to just wait for someone compatible.

But wait, I forgot...I am getting married! I want a house with a bathtub, a porch, a mailbox big enough for Netflix, and a garage I can keep my bike in. I am thinking that Detroit man is my first choice, he just has to take his test and then he gets his real-estate license. If something goes wrong, like I make him mad, then I will convert to Judaism and marry Batman.

If all else fails, there is always NYNDM. He would be like the easiest husband, if it were like our pre-relationship then I would never have to see him! Especially if someone "important" showed up.

I have my bases covered. Who needs fulfillment? Who needs to connect? Who needs to live an honest life where I can look in the mirror and be proud of who I am and the choices I have made. I want a vegetable garden!

mood: ENVY!

What Sesame Street Character are you? I am Cookie Monster

If you like those quizzes that tell you what movie star you are or what 70's hairstyle fits your personality, please take this quiz:

Political Typology

This is more than a fun game, it is based on scientific research by the Pew Research Center. Here is an article about the study:
Beyond Red vs. Blue: Redefining the Political Landscape

I am a:
Cookie Monster

I thought I would be a "Disadvantaged Democrat" but the test suggested differently.

I'm ok, you're ok

Since my appointment with Dr. T with an assignment to reflect on my behavior and causes of my behavior with men, I have been watching a lot more TV! Are there better shows on? Not at all! Its the same exploitive talk shows and melodramatic serials. I am just procrastinating, which I see as a good sign, a sign that this is something I really need to address.

I have come to a decision that I am very comfortable with regarding the man from Detroit. I simply do not want to be more than friends, and that is okay. I was open about my intentions from the start, and there is no need for me to feel as if my decision is based in some sort of predjudice because thats not the case.

I am not interested because he lives in Detroit. I am not interested because he said to me "If Im gonna shine your gonna shine" (read: you said you are low maintenence, but you should become high maintenence) I am not interested because he had said, more than once, "Just don't make me mad." Although he said he's never hit a woman, and he may mean "don't do something terrible like kill my puppy-dog", I still can't pull anything good out of "just don't make me mad."

I also would get tired of translating everthing he says in my mind. I realize people have bilingual relationships all the time, but in my experience communication is hard enough when you use the same words and phrases, a ton harder when one or both people have to really focus to understand what a person means, because a misinterpretation can completely change the tone of a conversation.

I feel sad to hurt anyone, especially a big sweetie, but I have a good plan. It is true that I have been doing too many long distance things, and I told him that from the start "I don't want a relationship, long distance sucks" so I will tell him thats why. I am off the hook.

I feel lucky to be making a new friend, and I will certianly be jealous when another girl comes along. I know this is the right choice, because I was feeling the same anxiety I feel when a salesperson has pressured me into buying something I didn't want. That anxiety has gone away, the same way it does when I go back to the store and return it.

mood: tired - yeah, in the depressed way :(

Monday, May 09, 2005

I am not racist scum! I am bourgeoisie elitist scum!

I have an assignment from Dr. T that I should reflect on my behavior with men, what led to it, and why I continue it. I haven't wanted to, why? Because the most logical behavior to reflect on first would be my behavior this week.

What is causing me such distress? Was he a jerk? Did he degrade me? Did I fall for him and he feel indifferent towards me? None of these, he was a lovely, kind man. And I think he is interested in persuing something. Now why wouldn't I be interested in persuing something with a kind, caring man who is great in the sack? This is what was freaking me out...there was one answer that kept coming back...haunting me...that I am a disgusting racist.

To avoid coming to such a sickening conclusion I avoided thinking about the topic, he of course had to call, and be all sweet and stuff. And of course I had to keep walking past the sweet rose he got me, quite out of the ordinary from a one-night-stand. So I tried to put my mind off of it. One thing that came into my head was joining a gym...If I am stuck with the figure of Jennifer Lowenstien instead of Jennifer Lopez at least I can look like her after a few minutes on an eliptical trainer. While thinking about the gym I thought about a classmate of mine that works there...and how I want to be cute when I go sign up. And he is also black! So I am so pleased! I am not unfairly predjudiced about a person for the color of their skin, something there is nothing wrong with! I am only unfairly predjudiced against a person's economic and cultural background, something there is nothing wrong with! Wow I sure feel better about myself now!

I have dated men from many cultures, including men with African or African-American heritage, but never a man from working-class black culture. I have all sorts of reasons why I never have. The number one is the power dynamic between white Americans and black Americans is too loaded with baggage. My brain is also warped from the racist stereotypes of working class black men I developed through unpleasant interactions with kids from rough backgrounds in my high school, and from mysogynistic rap lyrics.

I used to be an elitist, but I never thought this bad. He is smart, he is just uneducated. And I don't think it is because of a character flaw in him, I think of it as a flaw of our funding inner city schools. I feel like if I were to be in a successful relationship with him, one of us would have to change. Is that fair to expect a guy to become bouggie? He is beautiful as he is. But he wouldn't fit in well with white culture, and I would not want to have to live 100% in working class black culture.

I don't know what I am apoligizing for, sometimes someone isn't right for you (he didn't vote in 2004!) but would I feel the same about him if he was white? Well, actually yeah.

So how do I let a honey like this down without hurting him? He is a prize! He shouldn't change! He's just not for me :)

mood: liberal white guilt

Prostitutes, Strippers and other women who love men

Yeah men- lets talk about something you like. Prostitutes, Strippers and other women who just LOVE men and sex! Dr. T studied women who work in the sex industry and said some really high statistic of women in these industries were abused and do it for POWER. (and they hate you men...you know this don't you?)

She is the perfect person to do my therapy. I am not dissappointed about my recent bad behavior, I learned alot so I am glad I did it, but I realize it could become addictive and could interfere with me having what I really am starting to want...a relationship. What did she say in response to my confession of a second one night stand in a month... "alot of women who have one night stands have alot of anger towards men"

This is no secret to me. I am an admitted sexist, I know it is wrong, I know that it hurts me and others, but I don't know how to fix it. Usually in therapy, or during anything that has to do with analyzing me I am so on top of things, but this topic makes me flustered, it makes me feel vulnerable and not in control. When she described the research she did on sex industry workers it made me cry. Sexual acting out for them is a way to regain control, which was once taken away from them. My response was this is certianly true, but now what? How do I change this? My views are predjuced and wrong, and my awareness of this is not making it go away.

Her assignment is reflection. Find what led to and what contributes to this thinking and behavior. She says once I realize my motives, that I wont want to do it anymore (that makes sense- It's sexy to think "I am doing this because I love sex SOO much" so I will do it. "I am doing this because I want male attention and I am too wimpy to allow myself to be vulnerable to someone in a REAL relationship so I will trade in fulfilling loving sex for cold distant sex in order to maintian the illusion of control" well thats a bit less arousing and pretty sad, and acts as a turn-off/buzz-kill)

Before I start in on my months and months of reflection on sex and gender relations I am going to relax and digest the pizza I just ate in order to maintian my Jennifer Lowenstien figure.

By the way, exactly one month ago was my experience with The Beautiful German. and I have heard nothing. Dr. T made me laugh out loud when she sort of rolled her eyes and said "'kisses' isnt that perfect" as in the perfect blow off. Be proud of me people, I am going to be in El Paso twice this month, but I am not going to tell him. I also have not, and will not, Google his name. Who cares? I have gotten something from him, knew what I was getting myself into, and so have nothing to feel bad about. If he wanted more he would have contacted me, and that is just as much his loss as mine. (Enjoying a man who gave me 6 times what TBG gave me has been VERY helpful in putting things in perspective)

mood: nausea (pizza)

Saturday, May 07, 2005

I couldn't make this up

Today I had a passenger tell me before take off that she might be nervous about the pressurization. I felt a bit alarmed by the way she said it, like she had serious inner ear problems. When we took off her whole body tensed up, and she immediately started hyperventilating. She looked as if she was sure she was about to die, and wailed "will you hold my hand?!" This was all during the first flight phase (where if I got up I would roll down the aisle)

As soon as it was safe I went and sat next to her, she was having an anxiety/panic attack and I tried to talk her down. We started with deep breathing. Her breathing was so shallow that she wasn't able to hold a breath for 2 seconds, let alone 10. She was heaving.

She said "I like to talk, talk to me" So I started talking. She kept cutting me off..."a different subject" So I would try new topics. She kept looking at me intensely in the eyes. Her eyes looked like they wanted desperately to tell me something, but who knows what. They made me think of cow's eyes...like soulful and hollow at the same time.

I suggested reading a magazine, I had it in my hand and she said "That's a pretty color" She urged me to find the page that the magazine was open to and yes, there it was, a pretty yellow sweatshirt.

I asked her about her travel plans, her family, and her hobbies. She did say "I like to sing." I said "Oh yeah? Are you in the choir in school?" And next thing I know she is singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" Fortunately there weren't many people around because she wanted me to sing with her. There I am at work, singing Judy Garland tunes and holding hands with a complete stranger.

Next I am telling her that deep breathing and distraction are the best ways to deal with fear of flying, but nothing I say is getting through. Suddenly out of no-where she starts saying "We are by a river and there is a beautiful rainbow" So apparently we are going to "the happy place" at this point so the two of us are spouting off pleasant words "...and there are dolphins..." "...and we are having barbecued chicken..."

Next I began a filibuster. The "barbecued chicken" comment calmed her, so I started talking about the food I liked. I could feel her arm relaxing so I kept adding whatever I could think of "I wanted chinese food but all they had at the Detroit airport was Japanese." "I like Taco Bell." "I like Bagel Dogs from Einstien Brother's Bagels"

The fillibuster worked remarkably well, I was able to leave her side and provide a beverage service (I was with her for a good half hour.) The whole experience was completely surreal, the 4 hours of sleep I had didn't help things any.

So next time you don't want to be at work, imagine at that moment you are participating in a "Doe a Deer, a Female Deer" singalong, holding hands with a stranger, and frantically describing your Grandpa's farm in detail, in hopes they won't pass out from hyperventalating.

mood: tired

Friday, May 06, 2005

I am a softie

She is being nice to me, and I am being nice to her...ugh!

A nice young van driver just asked me to dinner. I think I am going to go and I don't think I am going to be good.

Spider...If you were still online you could have talked me out of this!

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Day one, done!

I made it to work just dreading the trip. On the way to the plane I saw my buddy Bob, and shared my dread, while refusing to say "the captian's" name. He got it out of me, but only because he is my buddy. He had said "I have noticed I never see any joy in her eyes." Interesting.

On the plane Unne and I said "hi" very formally but not I-hate-youish. I was ultra-professional, and all of a sudden she can be nice to me. During our break she came in while I was telling the story of "Karrison Geillor" to the F/O and she has witnessed him, while she worked at a grocery store, doing the same thing to the bag boy that he did to me: make a huge fans feel tiny. It was nice of her to be nice to me, but I am sure its not a challenge for a Rush Limbaugh fan to cut down an NPR personality (Rush & Fox news fans hate news that is ACTUALLY fair and balanced!)

We even had a conversation during the van ride. We talked about art, fortunately the F/O threw a joke in there to ease up the seriousness of the conversation "Art reached a level of perfection when they made the dogs playing poker, they should have just stopped there"

If you guys heard me in the van you would hate me. I sounded like a pretentious fuck. I talked in a low serious voice and didn't smile. I basically was mirroring her. Ugh. How nice of her to deem me worthy of kindness this day. I am not worthy if I am relaxed, happy & giggly but still being professional in my actions. I must act like a Mainline Captain of 65, or else I guess I am immature.

In a way I sort of feel for her. As totally unfair as it is, I might not be taken seriously as a good pilot with my personality, while most of the male pilots have young personalities but are judged on their flying, not their personality. Perhaps she developed this stoic bitch-from-hell attitude to get her ditto-head friends to listen to her, I mean she IS a woman after all!

mood: surviving
behavior: pretentious ass


I fly with the nightmare captian this trip. I will give her the name "Unne Cultoured."

The first time I flew with Unne I could tell she looked down on flight attendants. I am talking nose in the air stuck up. As with most people, I didn't judge her by my first impression, so she had the chance to redeem herself. One day I was in the crew lounge freaking out. I had mistakenly thought that they had changed uniforms and had no idea how I would afford it. I was really angry, especially since they didn't provide samples for us to try on (of course they didn't, they hadn't switched yet. I said something like "Can you believe they expect us to buy them without trying them on?" and she, tactlessly said to me "you guys always complain how bad the uniforms are, now you are complaining that you have new ones." Mean. And that is easy for her to say, considering the company is required to pick up the cost of all of the pilot's uniforms.

Now I have to fly with her. She is the type of person to report me for sitting in the wrong place during the flight, or for not keeping EVERY SINGLE carryon bag off the plane. The F/O is new. I really hope I get along with him, so its not like the flight with the letch captain where the F/O didn't speak to me since letch and I didn't get along. Eww, I am having an anxiety attack. Unne is like the "Mean Girls" in Jr. High, except all grown up. To make her even more unlikable, she is loudly ultra right-wing, like the kind that embarrasses the moderate right-leaners. This is how she got the name "Unne Cultoured" The shrimpy captian doesn't have the great figure that Ann Coulter does, but they both have that cold, dead look in their eyes.

I wish I swapped out of this trip, I could have worked mothers day and helped someone out. Too late now I guess. The worst part will be the lonliness, 3 days with no-one to vent to. But good news is I have a cell phone now! Welcome to the 21st century Diana!

mood: anxious, dread

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

My therapist can beat up your therapist!

Dr. T knows her shit.

At my last appointment I went in feeling like a loser because I have a hard time getting anything done. I said "I can see why I have low self esteem, it's because I can't get a damn thing done" She responded with something that sounded so cliche, that I have to be nice to myself basically, and she gave me an assignment. The principles she has taught me have served me amazingly well.

On my days off this week I made a promise to myself that I would be rediculously lazy with no guilt. Why? Because I stuck with the tour guide training and I deserve a nice break and pat on the back. How lazy was I? Well I cleaned my entire bathroom, sent out invitations for my graduation tour, transferred my e-mail addresses from my old to new account, repaired my broken tables, set up cell phone service, called an old girlfriend, stocked up on vitamins, attached CPR card to work ID, washed rugs, made 3 indian dishes almost completely from scratch, defragmented computer, repaired our broken T.P. holder, Made dentist's appointment, chatted with friends, installed our doorbell, cleaned windows, trimmed eyebrows, commented on blogs, repotted plants, and watched a favorite movie.

I accomplished all of this because instead of thinking the way I always have (which isn't working for me) I payed attention to the points Dr. T made:

*My brain was traumitized during the developmental stage where my self-worth develops, so I have low self-worth and sabotauge myself. (sounds SOOO cliche, but is really insightful and very true!)

*Treat myself as I would treat a traumitized child, and have expectations that you would for someone who survived trauma, not what you would expect from someone who's development was healthy.

*Don't "overthink" things before doing them, that will make them seem like a bigger deal then they are (going to the tailor should be like stopping for gas on the way home)

*Just do the activity and don't think about it while your doing it, think about pleasant things/distract yourself

*When you are done, give yourself a pat on the back! Reward yourself! Don't skip over the proud feelings and dwell on what else needs to be done...there is ALWAYS more to be done, so reward yourself when you accomplish something. (Say "good job, you went to the post office" not "geez it took two days just to do this? What a loser")

I gave myself permission to do NOTHING and instead I just followed what my heart WANTED to do, not what I bullied myself into. I didn't tell myself "You need to clean the bathroom, it has gone long enough! How humiliating! I can't believe the way you live!" Nope, instead I just started by wiping the sink, and did more from there. I am a bundle of anxious energy, which allowed me to bounce around the house doing 20 things at once. When I am forcing myself like a drill seargent to get stuff done I usually sit or lay down paralyzed, wanting to watch 10 more minutes of TV, or look at one more web page, and as I sit, DREADING the 1000 things I have to do, cortisol is pulsing through my body, eating my immune cells. When I just let myself do what I want to do, my anxiety becomes useful energy, a blessing, not a disorder.

This ineffective self-bullying method of getting stuff done has deep roots. Years ago, I decided to buck up and stop feeling sorry for myself and my life situation (this decison was a key to my success, but had some unintended consequences) I became all business no pleasure. I figured fun is a luxury, I have no time for luxuries, only neccesities, so the only "fun" I had was for social reasons, not to make myself happy. In a wierd way, it was like if something made me happy, there was something wrong with it! I was on cheerleading and danceline and I FORCED myself to be embarrased by it. I LOVED them! But I felt like I had to see them as stupid, even danceline, which was as intense as other sports. Even my beloved flight attendant job was "an embarrassment" for the first year, because it wasn't intellectual...And you wonder why I get depressed, if I actually allow myself to do something that is fun for me, I force myself to find it shameful!

I remembered this week that I wasn't always that cold, hard person. I got a memo at work that suggested a greed-based company policy, a policy so complicated and stupid that the FAA hates it, is unpopular not because it sucks, but because us flight attendants arent enforcing it properly. This is after I had been ABUSED by passengers FOR enforcing it, last week abused so bad I cried after it was over. In the self-love mindset I bought myself a book, (don't say I was self-medicating with shopping, because I was going to buy this book soon anyway.) It did cheer me up. It discussed fresh food markets and brought me to a place that I love to be. When I go to the farmer's market, and buy beautiful fresh herbs and vegetables, I feel truly alive. Suddenly I realized why. I used to go to the farmer's market with my mom.

Somewhere, buried in layers of pain is a girl who feels important, and that life is beautiful. Somewhere deep in my psyche, I know how it feels to not be depressed. My mother cared so much about my development she fed me only organic, whole grain foods, limited my TV intake, read to me and took me to cultural events. I once mattered to somebody. I once was important, not a burden. The real me, the person I would be if I had a normal development is in there, she is just buried.

I didn't recognize it at 14, but yes, joy is important. It is as important to health to have fun and feel joy as it is to pay bills and be serious. I have accepted that I need to really FEEL my feelings, but I need to accept that I need to feel ALL of them. I know I have to go back and recall the unpleasant memories, so I may release them, but it is just as important that I recall the wonderful ones, so I may recreate them.

Wow, at this moment I feel like I felt when I was just 7. It makes me feel authentic, genuine. You are witnessing a big deal right now. I hope I can hold on to this.

mood: happy (& crying)

Monday, May 02, 2005

Another brush with fame

My friend told me she was impressed that I didn't give the teen heart-throb "the time of day" but there is no reason to be impressed. It was only because I am not a fan, when I am a fan I become an idiot, just like so many idiots when they run into a celebrity.

The celebrity in question was...well, I will protect his identity. I will give him a pseudonym. His name was "Karrison Geillor" from "The Hrarie Come Pompanion" on "Rublic Padio"

I have listened to his show since I was a kid. My best friend's dad was in the Powdermilk Biscuit Band and my whole family listenes to NPR. "Karrison's" voice is so familiar to me that I feel like I am hearing a family member speaking!

The night before my trip I paid a bunch of overdue bills, including my NPR memberhip, the next day, who walks on the plane but him! I have heard that he is kind of a jerk, but if so, it is not in a diva way! He was like the anti-diva. I told him about this coincidence, that he was my reward for finally paying my membership and he said "You deserve a far better reward" and I tried and tried to give him the emergency exit row and he insisted no, and he was sitting by an obese man! No diva was he.

So here is where everybody looks away in shame. I kept looking at him, and he would catch me. Its partly a habit, my jumpseat faces the passengers, and his head is where my head faces really. But it gets worse! He actually wanted to have a conversation with me, but I got star-struck tounge tied and acted like a dork! I was reading a book to prepare for the tour guide position. He asked me if I had a background in arts, meaning, am I an artist or an art history student. It was like being in Jr. High, and a cool kid talked to me. I responded to his question by stammering, going WAY too in depth of which members of my family are artists, and asking him if he knew my uncle, who works in public radio, who's wife is an artist.

The museum I will soon be volunteering at is a "Modern" art museum. But it is inappropriate to call it "modern" art, because that refers to specific art movements. So if I said "Do you like modern art" I would be excluding post-modern and post-post-modern art. So I asked "Do you like contemporary art?" He said yes, he likes the people lately who have come out of art school and taught themselves figurative landscapes. When I repeated what he said for elaboration he said "yes...thats contemporary art, but thats not what you mean, you mean conceptual art" I said "yes you are right, I am kind of new" He wasn't right, conceptual art is a specific movement in itself, I meant 20th century art, much of which is conceptual, but I am not the type of person to embarrass someone by pointing out they used the wrong word, I think it's more polite to respond to what they meant. I guess thats just me.

So I know all of you are jealous! I bet you wish you could be humiliated by a childhood hero! Well sorry, you don't get to, just me ;)

This is the best fucking CD in the fucking universe!