Monthly Archives: August 2004

Scissors are dangerous. I wish someone would have warned me against the dangers of trimming your own split ends. I hadn’t done it in forever, and it was more than necessary. In the course of doing so, I cut the mess out of my finger. It was like a papercut from hell. It didn’t hurt THAT much at first, but once I saw the blood oozing from my hand I realized I had really hurt myself.And once you realize you’ve hurt yourself its like the pain kicks in. After I calmed myself enough to realize that I wasn’t dying, I decided to wash my finger with some soap, which stung quite a bit. After thinking that wasn’t the best idea, I decided to bandage up my finger to keep the cut from becoming infected. Even with the bandaid on, washing dishes was torture. All that soapy water getting into the cut was painful. I had to shower with only one hand, and keep the soap and water as far away from my finger as humanly possible. This got to be a bit ridiculous, that and the fact that I was changing my band-aid 50k times a day. It had been a day or two, and I realized that it was time to release my finger from its shielding bandage and let my body handle what I know it can. Not many people have died of a minor cut before, and I trusted my immune system and white blood cells to take care of me. Obviously my intuition was right, because I’m not sick and/or dying. The remnant of my tragic accident is a teeny tiny scab on my index finger. However, with a little exfoliation that should be gone soon.


Now if only matters of the heart and soul could be settled so easily.


In looking at the scab on my finger, I noticed uncanny parallels between the physical healing process and the emotional healing process. When someone hurts your heart, or if by chance you hurt it yourself, it sometimes takes a while for the pain to kick in. It might take hours, days, weeks, or even several months before you realize the damage that has been done. But when that time comes, when you have finally discovered the injury done to your core, everything hurts. That first realization, of course, gives the worst pain. Its wrapped up in a nice decorative box, disguising itself, if you will, and waits until the perfect time to deliver itself to you. But its not over. Every single solitary interaction after that renders stinging pain. Thankfully, these pains  diminish and occur less and less frequently. Eventually, they disappear all together. Because, if they didn’t, frankly, a lot of us wouldn’t be here right now. After these pains fade away, one’s ego is still fragile. There’s a sort of hypersensitivy. Completely justifiable hypersensitivty, however. To compensate for this vulnerability, one must protect themself. You take out the legos and build the tallest, strongest fort you know how. Its walls are impermeable and its foundation is strong enough to weather the toughest of storms. After ample time has passed, the protective membrane that surrounded you is temporarily defunct. Interaction without interference (for lack of better words) has resumed. However, protection can be summonned with a heart beat. But now, things are different. Father time, the forgiveness in your heart, the desire to free yourself from excess baggage, and the need for love suppresses the rebuilding of that fortress. In its place is a white pickett fence, with an closed, but unlocked gate. To the careless eye, you are still unreachable. But for those who not only care to know, but dare to know, you’re attainable. Reaching you, however, is not an easy task. Many will try and many more will fail. Some of these failures may chip away at the fence that surrounds you, exposing what you have tried so very hard to keep covered up. It is at this time in which you have two choices. You can replace the fencing and keep these things out of reach, or you can release yourself from the confines of the fence–slowly, but surely exposing the wounds and allowing them to scab over. I would do this more often, if it were only that simple. But it seems as though when you’re ready to let your wounds heal and to let scabs form, someone comes along and reopens those wounds, as though it is their duty to not let you heal. And let’s face it….you can’t exfoliate an open wound.

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It’s been yet another minute since my last update. I think it’s better this way, I actually have things to talk about. First off, oh my, everyone who commented on my last journal–THANK YOU and I am sending you oodles and oodles of cyber love. Seriously everything all of you said was so very sweet.It made me feel good…down, way,way down if you know what I’m sayin . But on the fer real, I apprecaited everything all of you said. Nothing makes me smile like having people agree with me. Its funny though, because as much as I wanted to cut him off, I couldn’t. I know I KNOW. And not only did I NOT cut him off, I went on a date with him yesterday. Talk about a change of heart. I knew there was some reason why I couldn’t just assassinate him like I do with other guys. Its so funny, I had an awesome time with him yesterday. Even when he’s pissing me off or getting on my nerves I love being with him.


Okay, thats what I wrote Tuesday night. And after reading that I’m sick to my stomach. Granted, I did feel that way Tuesday, but I don’t so much anymore. I dunno, I think my relationship with him is just bound to be complicated.I said to my friend Chess today “(name) said something to piss me off” and her response was simply “damn…again?” I am just so unsure. I invested a lot of time in this person, and I’m disappointed sometimes and happily surprised others. Basically, in person he was a really cool person. Awesome actually, totally bf material. But when it comes to the phone and/or in IM, he is an ASSHOLE. I don’t know if I can deal with the constant change; it isn’t cute. In general people do act different in person than they do online, because somehow people grow balls over the computer. Chess chalked it up to the fact that people seem to think the things that happen over the computer “aren’t real”. Its so true, too. I’m guily of it. I sometimes even refer to things that happen offline as “in real life”. I have no idea what I mean by that, because it isn’t logical…not logical at all.


I was rereading a conversation that I had with someone. I usually don’t save them, but this was a special case. They said some really hurtful things to me and no I’m not throwing myself a pity party here, but rather I’m trying to figure out why they said the things they did. (You know me, always asking Why?)I suppose I said some hurtful things to them too, at a previous time, and they were retaliating–perhaps? But they never told me those things were hurtful, and I THOUGHT I made it clear I was joking. *Sigh* Or are they a sadistic person who gets off to hurting others? Or maybe its neither–and thats how they felt and believed they had a right to tell me that? Its annoying when people do not socially interact in the same way that you do. I was taught that when someone says something that bothers you, you should do one of two things: ignore it or tell the person that it bothered you. Notice I said tell them, not think of mean things to say back 10 years(2 days) later. That is SO fucking fifth grade to me. If I say, do or even don’t do ANYTHING to hurt your feelings, it is your right to call me on it. Notice I said call me on it, not counteract (for lack of a better word) it with your own deviant behavior. Countless years of “conflict resolution” and “mature ways to deal with problems” and I’m about 60 seconds from saying to hell with all that and lowering myself to the almost primitive techniques of blaming, name calling, and other childish bullshit. It seems as though it would be far more easier. Perhaps even more successful.


Sometimes I wish I could physically pick up all of the bullshit in my life (with gloves on, of course), throw it in a huge dumpster and light it on fire. And that nasty odor would rise up and travel wherever necessary to suffocate those who caused the initial funk. Actually no, a simple suffocation is far too gentle. I would much rather have that odor attach itself to those deserving. And no matter what they would do, they could not mask the shitty odor nor rid themselves of it. They would smell as though they were full of shit. And that shitty odor would let everyone who comes into contact with them know, that indeed, they were internally…no…INHERENTLY shitty, nasty, shady people.

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