the diary of antoine roquentin

So…tonight I’m off to go re-park Amanda’s car before she gets a million tickets.

Christopher is driving, because we’re going to some party in Davis.

I don’t think he’s a serial killer.

C’est la vie.

Categories: Ennui

Well, I don’t want to be the one to have to tell everyone this, but Amanda tried to kill herself last night. She took a bunch of sleeping pills and if it wasn’t for Frank noticing that she was acting strange and calling 911, she might not be with us now.

She is now in Sutter Coast Hospital on 29th if anyone wants to send flowers, visit, etc.

Light a candle for her. I would say she’s in my prayers, but I’m not a Christian… so she’s in my thoughts. I’m going to a stop at the hospital this morning on my way to work. I hope she’s been released, but I don’t think that they let you out so early for something like that.

I was making dinner last night and Christen was here and Frank called me with the news. We went down to the emergency room and waited there for an hour and a half or so. The nurse came and took Frank back to see her, and we waited about another half hour or so and then went back home. I told him to call me and tell me how she was doing, but he didn’t.

I hope she’s okay.

Categories: Ennui

Having a really shitty night.

I washed my clothes. I went to the store and got some Parmesan cheese to make dinner (some organic whole wheat pasta), read my novel for awhile, watched Earth: Final Conflict. It’s 3:30 a.m. and I can’t find a phone number that my mother gave me to reach her. I bought $10 worth of Skype credit even though I’m beyond broke to call her, and can’t find the fucking number.

My grandma knocked on my door about 30 minutes ago telling me that she’s taking her boyfriend to the emergency room. Isn’t that wonderful.

I feel like death is stalking me these days.

That and I haven’t talked to Christen in what I feels like a week. She’s at HorseCow all the time, according to Megan and Steve. And she doesn’t get service there. I feel cut off and alone. I had this horrible dream last night where there was this big catastrophe and everyone had to leave the city. A volcano was going to erupt so Megan and Steve had packed all of our belongings onto their truck and we were all getting some final groceries to leave the city, but they were also invested in this line of drama that Annie started that they couldn’t realize the need to leave. I was screaming at them “we need to go! Now!” as the volcano erupted on the horizon. But they didn’t go, they just wanted to start more drama. No one would listen to me.

I feel horribly lonely today, and I don’t know why. One is I’m stressed about my mother being lost in some godforsaken place, and I don’t know what the other is. I wanted to see my boyfriend today, but he needed space. I wasn’t going to be a bitch and push the issue though. I can’t use the Adrian playbook, even though it’s what I’m used to.

Sundays are hard days for me. They are always shitty and depressing and an endless reminder of the slow advance of death, and the time wasted in eking out one class at the time. And being fucking poor. I got paid on Friday, and it’s already gone. I can’t do anything for the next two weeks. I can’t see a movie, I can’t go out for coffee. I’m totally fucked.

And only 1,000 miles until the next service date for my scooter. Just call me Sisyphus, guys.

I feel like my best friend has been stolen away by some bipolar douchebag. And I’m jealous because my boyfriend isn’t stealing me enough. I was looking forward to the party on Monday. The Italian girls are leaving in a few days. I forgot that I had class and I won’t be able to make it until late. And Drew’s not coming.

I’ve been thinking about a lot of the philosophy that my yoga teacher talks about… this crap about joy flowing up and down the spine. I really wanted to keep doing yoga after the class, but I don’t think I will. For one, the floor space my room (my only semi-private place) is the size of a postage stamp. She talks about “despondency” being the absolute bottom of what you feel, and that with yoga you are able to get back to joy. But I don’t believe that.

I do know that I feel like crying tonight, but over what I’m not sure. My mom should have bought travel insurance. She should’ve called me. I should’ve gotten her an international SIM card for her phone. I should not be such a needy emo bitch. Brian complains about crying all the time. I only wish I could. Despair with no outlet flows through you and can never escape.

I don’t know what this is all about. I guess I don’t feel as close to Drew as I feel I should this far in. That and I can never fucking get to sleep. I wake up later and later every day. It’s like I’m five years old. I guess I just don’t feel as close to him as a should is that we haven’t done any of the couple things that provide intimacy. I’ve never woken up next to him or showered with him…but I can’t do any of that. I can’t do anything. I feel like a prisoner in this house. I just keep telling myself: one more semester. One more semester. I’m 21, I’ll be 22 next year. As I tried to write that, I couldn’t remember how old I was. Was I 23? But no. I turned 21 this year. I went to Club 21 with Christen to buy my first legal drink. A cosmopolitan. The memories come flooding back.

All that time I wasted with Adrian… doing nothing for my future. I guess I’m more lonely than I’ll ever admit. I devoted half a year to him and more. I didn’t go to school, I barely saw my friends. I hated the person I was when I was with him. And I think that I’m slipping into that again somehow sickens me. I don’t feel like I am, but the possibility of finishing these extremely difficult classes this semester is just beyond me. I don’t make enough money to keep going. And I can’t give up my luxuries.

I feel like a spoiled child and that I don’t deserve any kind of love.

The pathetic me, unable to wake up in the morning or go to sleep at night. And unwilling to take drugs to help him. They’re all narcotics anyway.

Sometimes I just feel the weight of all these horrible things bearing down on me… how much I despise Alex and his continued attempts to be a part of my life… the sadness about Patrick and how it all went wrong… my self-hate about Adrian… my fear of losing Christen… my mortal fear of Annie and how she manipulates all of us… and the certain knowledge that it will be a long, long time before I’m free.

And I just don’t know what to do. I curl up in a ball… much tighter than before I started doing yoga… I’m very, very flexible now. I want to cut my hair. I want to start wearing eyeliner again. I want to be anyone but me.

I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend. Everything I ever did Adrian told me was selfish. Drew is such a nice guy. He’s funny and attractive and intelligent… but I don’t know how we will ever become as intimate as I would like (and I’m speaking completely non-sexually here). I’m fascinated with everyday life inside of a relationship… going shopping together, and watching him shave, watching TV in our boxers on a lazy Tuesday… that’s what I want.

I guess I’m just having a rough couple of days and I haven’t been able to drown these bad feelings in my stronger feelings for Drew. I can’t stop being a character in a Gregg Araki movie. I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything is going to be all right.

My mother insists that I suffer from depression. She takes Wellbutrin so that she doesn’t have crying spells. I would never admit it to her, but I feel like she’s weak. Or that the pills make her strong enough to endure something I could never endure. Her crying spells are telling her that something is wrong in her life. Pills don’t fix you. But writing angsty blog posts at 4 in the morning.

It helps. I guess. Time to sleep.

Categories: Ennui

Instead of watching TV shows, I put on Tour De France and decided to start reading the copy of Wicked that Brian loaned me a while ago.

And then I went on Amazon and bought three novels I’d been looking for forever and could not find.

Simone de Beauvoir – The Mandarins, The Ethics of Ambiguity

and the one my yoga teacher recommended

Paramahansa Yogananda – Autobiography of a Yogi

Categories: Ennui

My good day started at work, where I brought a bunch of food so I would not be hungry in the least. The lady that runs our network (well, she thinks she runs it) asked me to help her prep a bunch of computers to be sent to the landfill (we are recycling them, but it doesn’t sound as satisfying as sending them to the landfill).

It was a safari into ancient Macs that I never had even seen before. I wanted to take all the boxes, because they were in mint condition for these computers that were at least 10 years old.

On one of the old Macs, I found this vintage Apple sticker, with the 1970s rainbow logo. I carefully peeled it off and then later I put it on my scooter. I had wanted one for ever, and it made my day.

After work, I went over to True Love and met Amanda and Frank. We hung out for umpteen hours, and they met Megan, Steve, and the Italians, sipped smoothies, and exchanged politically incorrect stories.

I just chatted a bit with Drew and Christen on IM, and now I’m watching some Star Trek: the Next Generation. It’s really hot for some reason after a few nights of it being rather temperate. That I’m not coming down with something. I hope it’s the former.

I’m so excited about going to Trash Film Orgy with Drew tomorrow! They are going to be playing Foxy Brown, which should be really funny. I’m glad I get to see him this weekend. After all, he is my man.

I wasn’t going to write about it, but while I was hanging out with Amanda, Adrian walked by me on K Street near True Love. He was with Nick/Hannah and someone else I didn’t make out. I didn’t like even know that it was him until like a second after he had walked by.

While I was talking to Alex, I totally cut off all relations with him. I de-freinded him on everything and pretty much was devoted to the fact that he didn’t exist anymore. And to be honest, he doesn’t. I thought I would feel this upswelling of old fond memories, especially with my trip down memory lane last night when I went to that club on Bradshaw right where we used to live.

But really, all I felt was pity.

All I can think of was the most pathetic memory of him. We were staying at Molly’s house (which, as you well know, was a horrible, embarrassing debacle which I am deeply ashamed of), and he was in the tent trailer that we were staying in. As usual, he was popping pills and drinking like mad (but I had totally blinded myself to this through the whole relationship, so I wasn’t going to get wise to it right then). Adrian lifted one of those Listerine pocket sprays to his mouth, but he was so drugged out that he sprayed it right into his eye and collapsed on the floor. All I could think of was how disgusting, clumsy, and overweight he was.

Alex told me that the Adrian that we see now is just a shell of the Adrian that he met, since Alex had met him before he started doing drugs. I can’t imagine an Adrian that doesn’t do drugs, but I guess he existed. Or maybe that was back when he was on the amphetamines. I don’t know. Bottom line: it seemed like all of his other exes had dated him on and off for ages. I wasn’t going to be one of those people. When I’m in a relationship, I put in all I’ve got. It wasn’t good enough. The “dead horse” cliché exists for a reason. I always wondered in the back of my mind that if I saw him, would I feel that need for him again? And the answer is no. I don’t want to meet his new victims or his new partners in crime.

I’m just done with it all.

He can have the drama, the lies, and the drugs. He loved them more than me anyway.

Categories: Ennui