Creeping Through The Cellar Door (none_too_subtle) wrote,
Creeping Through The Cellar Door

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FFFFFreitag Fivers, good buddy, and a seriously rambling entry. [edit: update fiver]

Hereeeee we go. Woo. From fridayfiver:


1. Name one of your flaws: SO MANY to choose from. Scars. Hundreds.

2. Have you ever won first place? SO MANY to...yes.

3. Who is the last person to make you smile? Me. LOL.

4. Describe a time when you should have tried harder: With Mike Craine. Orrrrrr Kelsey's dad. Orrrrr Mike Craine. of those. It's a toss up.

5. What are you good at? SO MANY TO...stuff. Lots of things. Not great at one, but good at many.

The joy.

thefridayfive is suspiciously absent finally around. Hurrr we go:

The Boob Tube, The Silver Screen, & You

1) When you were little what was your favorite TV show? Gilligan's Island :D

2) What was your favorite movie? ANYthing by Martin and Lewis :D

3) What is your favorite TV show currently? NONE. I haven't watched "t.v. shows" since Gilligan's Island. It allllllll stopped there.

4) What is the best movie you have seen so far this year? Hmm...Deceiver. Awesome.

5) If someone was going to make a movie or TV show about your life, who would play you and why? Aaaaaahahaha. Forest Gump. The character. It's so sad. Why? Because my life is LIKE Forest Gump's (the book version, anyhoo), only I have a few brains, and think yeah, life is like a box of chocolates: You think it's caramel, but end up getting the crappy, orange-filled one.

(This is rambling and crap so skip it, trust me)

Can't decide on how to handle the whole journal dilemma, but I have a feel for what's going on, since I've tuned in to my lil list, have been reading, one by one, entries, years. Individually. Which is kind of odd because it's the second time I've done this (the first was when I friended them). Funny how some people drastically change their journal looks (er, like mine), while others stay predictably the same. This, just like our cars, our furniture, our clothes, kind of tells me how they are in life. Their interactions, how they view life, their friends, themselves. At least, I think so. One of the reasons why I'm so weird about "inviting" people to my humble abode is because I don't want people just roaming around looking at my life. Well, what's left of it after the great divorce carnage of that one marriage, after band camp. My "core things" still remain. The odd items collected throughout my travels mostly tucked away in boxes, as I've realized that in losing my house, I think I lost a whole lot more; my desire to "nest" again. Is it possible, after being with someone and living somewhere for so long, to start all over again? Particularly in a CONDO?

This is a tough one. But just taking Monday and Tuesday off to clean, I realized that I'm holding on to many things I need to just trash, and "hiding" many things that should surround me. A Feng Shui or something needs to happen. OH! I talked with the other Teri from next door, and they're almost through renovating. New appliances, new paint (which she told me I could paint over...YAY!), and new flooring/cabinets. I've seen the OLD version which was awesome. The new one will be incredible. And again, the way the light hits it is SO important to me. I'm going to talk with her husband Sunday. I have an application to fill out (eyeroll), and wonder if he's gonna be all background checking me. WHAT SURPRISES DO I HAVE IN STORE WITH THIS ONE? OMG. The last credit check that was run showed me as DECEASED. HOW can that be?! Um...okay. If that's the case, then why am I being taxed? I'm just sayin', if I'm dead, I can't pay taxes. So the old adage "nothing's definite but death and taxes" is just all screwed up. Because in MY case, death has occurred on paper, taxes are (or are not) being paid/received, and...yeah, it's weird. I don't know which one to attribute this to -- King Richard or Kelsey's dad. *sigh* One or the other. Both were guilty of SO many fraudulent activities in my name (stealing I.D.s, creating new credit cards...the list goes on and on...draining my checking/savings accounts...ughhh). It's AMAZING what someone can do with your freakin' social security number, seriously. DON'T give it out unless you have to;note to self. That, a date of birth and BOOM, you're in business. Credit cards, access to my checking/savings, and even my DEATH occurred without my involvement.

I think I've cleared most of that up except the death thing. I don't know HOW to do that, although GOD KNOWS I've tried. Maybe I am dead, and THIS IS HELL!!! That would explain SO MUCH. LOLOL. Mkay, that's not even remotely funny.

Lots of real-life stuff has been happening, so I've saved all that for...other places and times, for my own edification. Although WHY I save those looooong, lengthy, real-life entries elsewhere is a mystery. If there's one thing I've learned about El Jay interaction/reading is that NO ONE reads the lengthy entries. LOL. I could dog-cuss everyone on my friend's list, and nary a one would say "huh?". But if I write a one-liner, there'll be 194895903 comments. LOL. :D We are a generation chock full of short attention spans. Or my entries are every bit as boring as I perceive them to be, despite the weird mail I receive regularly. Really...every day is just a repeat of the one before, just add a new character doing something...uncharateristic. Perhaps I bring this behavior out in them, just so I CAN SAY IT HAPPENED. Sorta like "christening" all those castles in Europe with Mike; why did we do it? So I could say "Guess where WE did it this weekend?" Ridiculous and often funny, but true. Not a castle in Europe was spared MY arse (or hands, or whatever) whenever Mike and I traveled. It's too bad I couldn't keep a "digital journal" back then (blogging just sounds WRONG). Last night, I dug out some of my old OLD hard-copies from Europe, and almost cried. Wow. I've really REALLY lived my life. Many (if not half) of the entries written, some typed, some saved to 5 1/4(?) FLOPPIES(!) [I'll never see THOSE] poorly-construed poems, funny pictures taken, etc., all occurred on train rides either to or from my destination. Some occurred in helicopters, some at festival, some on planes. Helicopters! I can't imagine writing "Today, I'm in a Crashhawk, updating from this hellish ARTEP, where Mike and I got busy in this very seat, JUST TO SAY WE DID IT HERE."

It's bizarre and unbelievable NOW. But back then, the joy! Maybe my body and mind just got tired of living that fast. Or maybe I let my little opps-that-counted pass me by, youthful ignorance stomping the life out of something good, and my own inflated self-importance seeking the bigger, better deal. Of course, I ended up with it; but be careful what you wish for...I learned.

It wasn't sad reading all those journals. It's bizarre, however, that I've kept them in order after all these years. Oddly, in my hand-written journals, I tried to sound...more than I am or was. In HERE, I'm AWFUL. Disjointed, discombobulated, and for the most part, not giving a crap how it sounds when I write it. And again, I was compelled last night to start and dedicate a journal to my hard copies, put them ALL in digital format so I can save them and share with Kelsey when I die. But then I thought "Er, how would she feel, knowing that she was conceived HERE?" or "How would she feel, knowing that Mike and I 'did it' in the Heidelburg castle?" Umm...some things probably shouldn't be shared with her ever, I'm thinking. Although those certainly aren't the worst, nor the most-revealing, they are a good example of "Things That Should Never Be Shared With Anyone Except My Soulmate Who Doesn't Exist." Or something. Still -- the people I met! I believe that over-inflated ego was fed simply by rubbing elbows and engaging in interviews/conversation with some seriously important/famous/wonderful people, people who have changed the world, who've added music and art, and made a name for themselves, simply by being who they are. I always gravitated towards them, and when that door opened to join the "crowd" I certainly dove through it. Did I learn from it? From them? Maybe a couple. But just like the castle-christening, I think "meeting those people" was just another "Just so I can say, years down the road, I met so and so." I was FOOLISH. Some of those I've met and interviewed actually made a difference. At the time, I was moderately impressed; but at this age, I realize there was so much I could've learned, so much more they had to offer and I cut them off. /I/ ended the interviews, the conversations...even the friendships. I'm not saying famous/notorious/world-leaders are more important than, say, a mechanic (because RIGHT NOW, THEY'RE NOT), but they are more interesting; because they've achieved things that we could only dream of in our lives. They went further than I did; I climbed the forbidden tree, but they hung on to the branches allowing their feet to swing free, completely unafraid of success OR failure.

In those filing cabinets, I also have shoeboxes. Old, dusty, and written on/wrapped up in articles/artwork. I saved most of my interview tapes. I popped a couple into my microcassette player, and wow. I'm SO GLAD I saved them all. These WILL go to Kelsey when I shake this mortal coil. My voice sounds so funny! I don't sound like the same person from one year to the next. Even now, it's changed from just last year. I'm a voice chameleon. I also saved tapes from answering machines (smart move!) and have some pretty fetching messages on them. I could E-bay those suckers to groupies and make a freakin' fortune. So the big mission right now is to maybe dub them. Nooooo. If I do THAT, then they're really worth nada. To ME, they were friendships. It's funny how just meeting the Pope and two presidents (U.S. -- this doesn't include foreign country officials) at such a young age changed my view of ALL religious icons/political figures/famous people. After the Pope, it was all downhill (including presidential gatherings...pfft). God's earthly representative, wearing cotton and silk, smiling eyes, standing right in front of me, listening raptly as I asked questions. :) Ja, everyone else was downhill. And I, in the middle of ALL these people, was nothing. Just the messenger. The story teller. I have to wonder where this drive went...or maybe I simply ran the gamut, and retired that train of thought, of having to meet, to know, to get that story, to learn about that person. Or at least the desire to continue. Maybe I was all tapped out after that second Halloween party at Anne Rice's. I don't know. Just like HERE, you become jaded when going through phases of life, and nothing really seems real anymore, nothing was impressive at ALL. Just like life in my early 20's. All of it seems surreal. If I didn't have the photos, the stories, the tapes, the cards and little gifts (some hand-written songs/poetry from some...fairly prestigious individuals)...I don't think I'd even REMEMBER most of the incidences which -- to most people I know now -- would seem extraordinary. I did once live an extraordinary life, and kept notes. I'd do something with it, but Forest Gump's already been done. So that's that.

There's no point to this entry, other than nostalgia and deciding where to go from here, because I do feel compelled to...move through this phase. The El Jay phase, or whatever it is. For the most part, it's been fun. But for all the fun, NONE of that can make up for the idiocy I've had to deal with over the past few years. This comes with a steep price, and that price is unfortunately how I'm forced to regard myself. NO ONE should do this, or be able to, but me. So when I question my life, as it is right now, and journaling, as it makes me FEEL, I must question the cogs, too. And I'm thinking that's precisely how I view all "associations" right now, other than friends forged in real-life who've joined El Jay just to read. They NEVER (or rarely) comment, because they know me. They KNEW me, back then, when I was doing things "That I could tell my grandchildren" and they're also painfully -- as I am -- aware that my life NOW is...just...not the same. I'm sure this bores them. And again, YAY for long entries, as they're never read. I realize, also, that to keep "just real life, long-term, unquestionable friends" on my list will cause some trouble with others on my list. So what to do is still the question to be answered, and shall be by the weekend's end. I know one thing -- I won't deal with this stupid crap one day more than I have to. If it means hurting someone's feelings, I must consider my own first. This IS my journal. This IS my life, these ARE my experiences. I'm not going to deal with disappointment/drama/etc. just because "acquaintances" are on my list. No. Just no. I didn't start this to make friends, and THAT thought didn't occur to me, since the girl who turned me on to Live Journal HAD no friends (still doesn't to my knowledge). Maybe -- instead of just getting that coveted code way back when -- I should've asked her questions before eagerly jumping in and doing what everyone ELSE did. Admittedly, the FIRST core friend group remains. And that small handful, I'll always keep around/read. How they even found me is mysterious, but I realize now that they were -- as I was -- some of the first Live Journalers, and know how to ACT IN HERE. They never comment (or rarely, just like real-life friends), and cause no trouble. Brutus was the first. :) He taught me how to friend back. I've got 'em all in pecking order, that core group. The rest? Honestly, it's hard to trace my steps back. So "who to keep" is a hard one. But I have to remain "true" to my journal. It's overly-read as it is. Or "more read" than I'd want it to be, in a perfect world, for my own reasons, some of which I've written about on more than one occasion. Secretly, I hope that names will simply start disappearing from my list, particularly the ones I've been seriously scrutinizing. While reading some of their individual journals, I also read their friends. Seriously HOW did OUR friendship begin and why? Because I really don't seem like the "stereotype friend" that most of my "acquaintances" keep. Odd.

Alrighty. Too much reminiscing/pontificating/thinking, and not enough work being accomplished. Just because it's Friday doesn't mean I can sit here and not do shiite. :D Mkay, maybe I CAN, because I have worked my arse off this week.

I need to think about all this and that. I need to continue reading my hard copies, since I barely put a dent in them (and used the LIFO instead of FIFO method of will understand this one). What I really need to do is learn how to scrapbook, like NORMAL GIRLS, and save all my stuff chronologically WITH the shoeboxes in order, perhaps in tubs for each year I journaled/saved pictures/articles/tapes/etc. I wouldn't know where to start right now. I also need to employ that freakin' digital cam more than I do. I realized last night that I took and processed more photos throughout my 20's than I have all my life. The only "art" I have now are crappy web cam shots I take for, again, my own lil reasons (mostly self-deprecating). Ja. So...get batteries for the cam, so I can take peeektures of things. I also need to save things in some marked spot, like all of our ticket stubs, old plane tickets, etc. etc. from the past few years. ALL that crap is in my desk right now, just hanging around, waiting on me to make a decision. It's just like my house theory: I don't CARE and feel transient with my "things", including "proof of activity". Gotta stop thinking like that. Because home is, after all, where the heart is, right?

Resisting the urge to go back and read/edit/spell check or any of that other sheize, and will count on the "we don't read unless it's a one-liner" El Jay method of journal-reading to save moi.

Oooo yeah, should've skipped, and I warned ya (if you read all that crap...which I'd bet a good, 90% from "my list" did Strangers, however, DID. See how weird that all is, how little sense it makes?! Just sayin'...define friendship, El Jay, for the definition at this point in time honestly fails me.


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