C a r o l y n ' s D i a r y
|be warned: this is my diary... clb||page 27|
24 Hours in Cyberspace
. . . . . . . . . . them
. . . . . . . . . . us
. . . . . . . . . . me
What memories of Feb 8 we shall all hold. I've ordered the book using Amazon's shopping service. Can anyone wait to see what they've put together?!!
Time for a Sunday morning bath. Luxury. Like the fireplace. Hella
likes the luxury. Richard cringes at the expense. My advisors are a
balanced lot. Peter smiles when I am happy. Warm water awaits.
To be clear about it, I am on a spiral downwards.
I think of the morning with birds singing sharply and cars zooming by in the front down to the office towers surrounding my building. Surprise, you are still alive. Fire smoke hangs in the air, unfathomed gentleness clinging hard to surprise that next time death will succeed in greeting me. Plants opening their leaves with dew drops shining, new leaves and old. Do plants have a life span?
Looking caringly at older people and I wonder how I will I endure until then myself. How is suicidalness anything but a fixation on death? My eyes are unalert, wishful for life energy. Some donot decide to become vampires to save themselves. I don't. Loose words to describe the end of a life. Food as fuel, sex as an alternative to tv, socializing pinging at life to see it exists still. Looking at youth with grave concern. Some are dead like me already. Where does death come from?
death where she goes
I look out and see the doom of my soul, the march crushing onward, the future toll.
I look up to see the wings of my fate, the weakness of knee leading to an unlocked gate.
I look over to you holding out your charm, waving gently forward with alarm.
I look under the earth where the worms collide, wanting the warmth a place to hide.
I see out of my soul that the end searches near, families armies societies peer.
I see up the mountains down the streams, a curve ever ending not in dreams.
I see over your head and mine, a wish that things were otherwise fine.
I see under and know with finality that my view leads us all to death's city.
of life's hope
Hold close to me and journey down to where hope loves not and love's not found.
Gentler times gone with self esteem, do you know where your love has been?
Bridge the gap, hold on tight, the ride starts here without any fight.
And children knew this better than I, without a fight life's a short lie.
Simple story, it too knew doubt, hope without a future no inside without
the carefree fanaticism needed to build the pieces of creation, members of the guild
The other man in the moon
The man in moon wisely knew doubt and smiles knowingly down for all about.
Soon we learned tales of woe and happiness as the man in the moon withered without address
as tale spinning wandered scientifically away from this chivalrous soul awaiting his day.
And as we approach the millenium's end willfully seeking upward our long and Lost friend.
A last goodbye
How easy it has been to stir the jam in the jar in with the peanut butter. My aunt did this for us as kids, the great treat on the weekend while our parents were away playing. I can do it myself now. It doesn't seem as rewarding now as it did then. Perhaps with a better understanding of added value and market worth I know it was only her care for us that really did the trick. She wouldn't really want to stir the jam and the peanut butter together for me now that I am thirty-one and she in her seventies. Maybe she would do it though. I should phone after these past seven years' uncaring silence to ask. Now that I too am capable of rational communication perhaps she just might tell me why those things happened then. It's probably not worth it though. Could knowing now really make up for the consequences of never having understood? It is so late, and finally I want to go to bed early just as they wished on me then, those adults with training wheel personalities. Johnny Carson people, original couch potatoes covered in peanut butter and grape jelly jam, holding their noses to prevent life from getting in. The world opened up for me, oyster, fork, and swallow. And now I know that it was altogether the jelly and nuts served up by the spinster who would not be friend who were the caring warmth I felt so briefly once.
My heart is broken. Completely.
Were I truly anything but sad, I would have something to say. But do I? People are noticing this now finally. Do I want them to? Can I be who I've become and be sad too? Is there any room in the room for me now? Back beyond ht echange of metaphysics. Nihilism weighs me down. Friendly. Meditative. Warm. Relaxing. Fun. Constructive. Understanding. Apart. Useful.
Am I merely a truth-functional person after all this time? God no.. please no. So much more is beyond the truth. Awash in power tendrils. Bleeding strength and visions, crying to come out towing the truth in tandem out. Layers of truth peeling away until we see the stuff theuniverse is made of. It is just stuff. That is truth. To manipulate and bend to our whims, to let lie fallow to pleasure us in natural truth. The truth is stuff of plans. Let me free to plan, oh truth. You have had enough of my soul, eaten away with your fantasies of reality. The past lacks the planning potential that the future beholds boldly. Allow me to travel beyond you, truth. Even death cannot here this call impartially. The stuff of the universe indeed. And Where I am of that stuff, I shall not fly. And where I am free to fly, the stuff shall be molded in my dreams. Away fantasy. Truth teachs the weak-hearted to dwell inrooms of shadow. The future truths are mine to make and shake. This is beyond truth.
Nietschean nihilism. How quaint. Be it ever so bold, there is no place like the future.
The Star Trek model of doing things. Regardless of how petty or important a task, the bridge crew does it because they are friends. They do not have subordinates except whensomeone needs to die accidently. Otherewise they are close because they do everything together.
I've been rattling around in FSC lately because the brigde crew has all been working on separate things. Time to pull them together again.
So I ran a little habit guidance system in my schedule software, and after asking me a lot of questions it outpoured several tasks it wanted me to schedule into my week. [Coffee's ready. I made it on the stove today, really dark.] So tonight I am going to the social event I've been invited to even if it is a black leather sort of event. It could be interesting. I'll have to scrounge around for something to wear.
And finally. Being depressed. The pain slide away slowly and not completely after talking with different people about the reasons and letting them know who I am am a bit more. It slide away, and yet not completely. In my heart there is little endurance for any non niceties. I hope that the world knows to treat me gently for a while.
I remembered last night being in a play as a kid. I was about 10 or so. Tall and thin, they dressed me up in gold lame from head to toe, and I was Hope. I was the last to emerge from Pandora's box. And all the world rose in happiness as I did so. A world filled with chaos and fear. Hope was the answer to these. I am hope. Am I still?
As I recalled the play at first, I remembered being dressed in gold and emerging from the box, but not that I was Hope. And it suddenly felt wonderful to realize Hope like that. The full sense of the play hit me then and I knew that I have lived through the others of Pandora's discovery. Wow. I like that life can contain such varied colours.
Pandora's Box: Across the doors of my memory.
Fleiss and I wish that the birds would come into visit more often.
What happened to depression? I crawled in and deeply so this past week. I haven't felt so entirely suicidal in.. some quantity that seems big. And I did some positive things with myself, brave things all, things I thought I shouldn't do for propriety's sake.
A day of crying and pubic admissions of depression when people asked:
Talking with Richard about me for a change to let him know how much I care and how little grief I can accept from him any longer:
After year without Neko, telling Richard that his cat's being missing is his own doing - a lesson in the biological:
Being the sexiest thing at a black leather party:
Taking Richard out to a play and enjoying finding the play terrible:
Wrassling successfully I hope with the president of an international company without leaning on anyone else :
Having been brave so much this week:
Making effective plans to see that cute guy again today:
Not being able t hail a cab successfully without breaking into tears: Am I for real? Is this truly what causes me fear? Yes.
Building many fires, big ones in my fireplace without getting uptight: Tracey's leaving allows a different perspective on where I live. It is not as stuffy as I tried to make it any longer.
Enjoying Louise's song until I cried again:
Feeling proud for not coming to each persons' rescue simply because they are afraid too:
Actually guiding people rather than remaining frustrated by their attempts to guess at what I want:
Brave Carolyn. In te end I know no fear inthe standard places. It is in funny places noone expects - driving on the road is scarey. As are all of my preferences. I may be just another soul in the universe but I am configured to use the resources with effect that others find not worth while. I cannot begin to enumerate the advantage of eating at 2pm withthe service staff to myself, or the advantages in offering my friends things outside their grasp on their own but within their desires, Tracey not withstanding. Brave and smart Carolyn. Yup, and manic. And waiting patiently and wisely for this afternoon's rondevous.
Curled up in a corner with a cat. What do people talk about when the relax and let go? My conservatism lossens a bit and I findthat bravery still eludes me. I just look like someone people want around. that is sufficient apparently to be included, althouhg it is not sufficent for me to want to be there. I want to create in teh social scene what I'd like to see. What is that though. I have a sculputred world called FSC, and I am DMing tody in a world of my own creation, guidelines courtesy the norm of D&D. But what of the smaller interactions? Should I be using them for something? To meet others? To create an impreson? To please my own aesthetics? Which I don't much have.
If I was more at home, I'd think that it would just feel good. But as I am not, what can I do in these circimstances? I don't want to get to know people. There are millions of people I might bump into, and I lik some of them. But truly and honestly why should I want to meet them? They are usually normal, predicatble. Sometimes they are unusual. And always they are people. I want to meet those who will capture my imagination taking me to the stars or the presidency with their own life experience. And I do meet these persons. I fail to cross examine them as many might. Really I should find out what a person's strength is and tease out from them the life those strengths create. People watching has long been onthe back burner. Perhaps the teasers of exciting alternatives I have not acheived myself might make a threadable theme in a social sit. Just maybe.
I went happily with a friend to a party last night, and there I met everyone, and tried to flow smoothly through. I realized I had nothing to contribute except my sly quietness clothed in attractive body parts. Since I know this is the least of my possible contributions, I wondered why my better ones stayed submerged. And I know why, and still I find there must be a better answer here than this. Quippy back talk. Nothing generated. My generations are long winded, or deep. Nothing banign up the superficial ladder with lighthearted gayiety and converational niceties. Wihtout hobbies, and similarly without a desire to speak of my own life as it is actually exists, I find I am a soggy rag ina social event, a person others must draw out. Only the sleazoids are sufficiently motivated by the body parts to try more often then not. [
But I am learning. That of course is why I write here about this comfusion. It is making headway.
GregORY tells me that the cool bathtub pic made Newsweek. I'm all giggley.
glittering bravery in the dark. later.
I was depressed and now fight off the flu. Others seem to have reversed the order. I got the better of the deal. I wonder though that depression is so contagious. [WOW that picture in NewsWeek is blowing my mind. I feel famous even though not a soul recognizes me so far without some very tacky prompting. Those who know are more excited than me.] [Where's the morning coffee?] My depression slingshotted me out into religious zeal, a religion of the self in the universe. A combination with me at the the causaL focus of my own efforts and the universe around doing its own thing entirely but reactively.
Be powerful and delicate at once. Enjoy what youhave caused and learn to bring others' attention to the methods when they hurt. Peter, don't be depressed.
I must run to dress and quaff coffee. miau
At 14:24 10-10-96 -0700, Shomron Yitzhak wrote:
I wonder how many, if any, responses, comments,crticisms,reactions have you got on the net to this outflow of emotion and thought. is it possible of r your to share your impressions of thsoe reactions wiht somebody else,.like me?
At 10:04 9-10-96 -0500, firstname.lastname@example.org wrote:
While browsing through a web search of my surname, Gosselin, I found a message to you from Louis Gosselin.
Well, I'm another Gosselin, too, and I just wanted to say hi, and I hope you gave ol' Lou a chance!
Kansas City, MO
At 00:08 10-10-96 -0500, DC wrote:
How do "I" even begin to say how much i've enjoyed your diary.
I was reading it and felt like I had found a soul mate only after reading 3 paragraphs. Ok, I do admit I haven't yet read the entire thing, but I read enough to sense myself in your writings. I shall continue and hope that you continue on to write, as I see something very positive in it. Actually, I saw myself there. I think you are a great awe inspiring writer and deep thinker and have a lot to say. Please keep up the good work.
At 21:38 9-10-96 +0000, Johan LIVENS wrote:
Greetings from Belgium.
Here's a pic of a cactus and me. It was taken in Balboa Park in San Diego (CA) this summer.
I collect and raise cacti in Belgium so if you like I can scan some pics.
I look forward to hearing from you.
A date with the ex
She talked to me, bought me dinner. She tried to talk cheerfuLly about her life if not us. She entertained me with stories about her antics this past month. I felt a convergence and so did she. We talked of how it felt like we had broken up. She had dumped me, we both had the presepective ofher as a actor in this, the agent of change. She held tight to what seemed a prerehearsed script on how to talk with me. I didn't try to deviate except in keeping my past to myself. She had acknowledged at one point that before she was using other peoples' lives for excitment instead of her own. She says she is more happy being free to stare at walls. I guess the universe went to fast. I guess too that it always will for her.
I tried to seem interested in these mundane stories of hers. Her biological status, her unemployment status, her desire to stare at walls if she wants to. I saw that indeed her one true goal, that of writing, was prospering according to her stories anyway. I doubt if the world will ever access these things even if they do exist. I wonder if the glazed look in my eyes really appeared interested to her. I cannot think she is that insensitive even now.
We did break up last month, no two now. I have gone through the strange reactions that I felt. It is more like withdrawing from an alcoholic stupor than missing something valuable. I wonder if that is another phase of the pain or if it is more accurate than I have allowed myself to think about her in years. She is warm and comfortable. Going out with her always made me feel safe. But that might be because of the relative differences in our lives, and not those few similarities we used to draw upon.
I don't know if I can look at her and care about these things anymore. She has always been moralistic and judgemental, critical of others when they go wrong in her eyes. I feel that our relationship was built by me avoiding her negative judgements. I suspect behind my back she is now loudly judgemental of my life and my ways. For a long time it was otherwise. I was on the pedestal then.
Is there anything left for me in this I wonder. I have a wall. I am cold and hard towards her, attempting not to give any of the things I did before. It was my giving, sharing really in a good socialistic way prone to make her heart coo, that pushed her around so much. I shall save what I have for those who want to be treated well. So be it. I wonder what it would have been like if she liked herself just a bit more. I'll never know.
I was wondering if I am too narcissistic? Not enough? Are my goals those that will lead to good places?
And so all I did today was my laundrey. I burned logs in the fireplace, petted my cats, and traveled the WebRing. I wondered about myself a lot though really. Never-ending feeling that I am not quite who I should be. is being lazy around the house not something ok? I don't really think so. I don't find any freedom in staring at walls. But I feel something in me not wanting to go into the world too far today. I resist the office, and the world resists me. Two safe and quiet havens in the world to flit back and forth between. Peace?
Peace? I read the diary from the beginning fixing a few links. Nothing ambitious. Boring really to find that noone in the world says anything I find interesting. I am apathetic today. To many strange sources to cogitate on. And I had thought that something more interesting would be... Is life?
Puzzle puzzle in my mind.. what's the answer I need to find?
I'd rather not be alive today. I'm bored. I found Tracey yawning, and Richard ever so self-secretive. I haven't bounded about with any energy for a couple of days. My enthusiasm wanes as Richard's image alignment (mine) unsettles my worldview a bit. His is a queer combination of unfeelingness and sensitivity. I'd rather get some exercise. I'd rather not be here at all. Desperation soaks into my bones from the fire sleepy. Bored desparation. I need to do something creative and important. FSC absorbs both all the time, and usually in steering the views of others. I'd lik eto relax. But no I wouldn't. Boredom and relaxation are the same feeling with good and bad spins. As all the natives wander to different spots in teh universe to do thanksgiving rituals, I boringly watch my email boxes for news that others exist. None do really. But I haven't reached out at all. I didn't arrange anything or plan. I have creted this tired laundrey space and alone in it, as everyone must be unless they plan better, I sit staring at Screen. My friend.
I need some pickles. Bubble bath stuff. Ohter odds and ends of a similarly object-level sort. Where the meta level follows not.
e n e r g y . Wondering easily about death brings fear . . into me so fast. It lingers there with .. . curiousity, that deadliest of vices. When and . . . how will it feel. What will come afterwards? Will . . . I know about it? I want to so badly. I promised . . . my younger self that I would out my life . . . naturally because death would come . . . on its own anyway. I lived true to that promise . . . and I find in me the fear that the alive feel, . . . wanting more in life then my span will alot. . . . Let me know this one final thing. I cannot buy . . . nor cheat to know. Just let me know.
Oh how it must feel to kow.
More lightly, I should not be captured by these feelings were it not for Tracey and her bringing into focus the value of existence. I don't understand her choices to be really honest because I don't want to. Let her know death.
The squirrels chatter and scold Moppins as she comes home. They do not feel this death knoll.
causes Could be as simple as having rescued tens of mice and birds from Fleiss - alive and post-alive. Could be the feeling of being trapped away from the world because of teh contact value that occurs out there. I need alternate means to meet and know others than the simple molecule bumping methods we interpose in a cosmopolitan city.
effects Gentle fear to leave my house. A thousand and one reasons for not leavingpop into my mind each time I try to leave. Easiest escape route - invite another to go with me. Not meeting new people easily enough. And they're always single men looking to get laid. Sigh. Could the world please get rid of the single men?! There must be somethng we can do with them. I'm thinking of converting to homosexuality. It's more peaceful. And warm. effects
in stasis. WAKE UP MOVE AROUND GET SOME EXERCISE MEET PEOPLE SMILE A LITTLE PEOPLE LIKE YOU SO MUCH WHEN YOU MOVE WAKE UP why aren't I? Why this relaxation bullshit? I'm bored because of it. No go. can't get in to my mind to know. BECAUSE I know that writing and sitting still is not what will solve the problem. This solves mental tangles, not energy probs. ENERGY... I have so much. DO something with it. Something interesting. what an absolutely wonderfully foolish problem to have. Can life be this good? Yup.
I'll go out now. I'll do it. My own muse.
I've done a few things. I'm feeling a little more attached and apart of the world now. That's cool. Too much wandering away from what is can be harmful. So I made myself a little more comfortable in this big empty apartment. Who else will anyway!
And then lunch and some D & D afterwards. "Adult entertainment". Have I ever metnioned that my inte5rest set best maps on to those of 14 year old boys - exclusive of actual other boys though. Comics, video games, D & D, paintball, computer games, hacking, Heavy Metal, etc. Very curious. Other things are also interesting but they simply don't include the home economic subjects that most women plunk themselves into. I hate that stuff! Give me a chemistry lab over a kitchen anyday. In fact the only reason I can cook is because it ocurred to me that cooking *is* chemistry. Under that guise I can do quite elaborate things. None of this cooking is a art stuff though. It's chemistry.
The front cover of U.S. News and World Report
Oct 21 1996
Samuel Jackson's voice echos through my head "..,of the righteous man, for he..". For he or she shall know the truth as it is. All hope the innocent shall know their own fantasies.
Richard keenly observed my mood crash after I spent time with Tracey. It is on the rise again, adn I shall be more careful about myself with her. I trust her but she is very hurt and lost now.
I shall know the universe first hand through my choices. And as I travel afar I shall Look back and know that I did this and be proud. Who I started out as left me a lot of room to feel accomplishment in the world. I am a very lucky person.
Now go work.
Thoughts on the empire: People are jumping up and around with my photo being everywhere. Its incredible. I'm bubbling inside with a feeling of innocent happiness. I remember as a kid wanting everyone intheworld to know who I was. As every rational adult does, I put this from my mind as just not the thing to do. And wham. Its done. It's beginning. I love this. I think the excitment of being not anonymous is getting to my head.
I've arrived here fromthe unlikeliest of places as a 20 year wondering if I shouldn't just go up north and live in a tree house. I thought for years about doing this. Fantasies about nuclear holocosts, no more crowding, solitude and peace.
It's clearer now that the solitude I wanted was not from people but from being alone in a crowd. I'm known a little now. It is peaceful to know that I will play on the world stage and tinker with the world. This causalness is so remarkably warming inside. Perspective? It's been boring. Now its time to surf the public. No more solitude. I guess I should get a shower first though.
alright... so I'm finally excited! No more nonchalance. :)
Tonight is our second annual paintball game at FSC. Everyone is excited. Even me. [More lightbulbs needed in here though for me and the plants here... there. done] We'll be sneaking up on each other trying to get back on all the tension from working so hard lately. We released a couple major sites this week, Mazda Canada and ACCO Canada, and another major release is coming up shortly. This is a great industry to be in. As president of FSC Internet, I'm really proud of the team. I guess I don't really say that so very often.
I've been wanting to take up jogging. I thik I'd enjoy getting the air and the exercise, and meeting people a little bit each morning. A 7 am jog. Hmm. I wonder about running shoes. I haven't bought a pair in 15 years. In fact that pair still is what I wear once in a while, like tonight. I find the publicity makes it so motivational to treat myself well. I like feeling like I have a reason to.
Such deep shallow thoughts. OK away with the superficial..
hold it in
no more self criticism
shoulders down and back
remove the creep from your mind
no more music memes - banish
stop feeling itchy
the breeze is wonderful enjoy it
plants breath back
the world opens away from the screen
I can feel people moving out there
Clocks tick unanxiously
worry: will I work harder because of this?
is this enough
where are you?
here.. in the trees watching the sky through the crowns
here I am too
balancing my neck back and up I see too
and the trees rustle their leaves breathing
a forest breathes
people move more distantly beyond
cannot type now
all is worry in me. will this plant survive. what about that client.
peace. they will feel it in you.
My ten minutes.
I left off where no one could see me, hanging out in the corner, wishing I still smoked like they did. My breath came heavily to me but it didn't stop. I felt unreleived at this small favour. Dropping dead on the spot might have been the easiest way out. Yeah, me with it.
It's been a long time since I really felt like htis. Since childhood. The exhaustion of people talking of their most generic interests, trying to find common ground where all know in advance nothing of interest truly lies. I live on the uncommon ground, and then I stand out, brightly or gangly. Depends on the crowd, on my spriit that day.
This time it should have been different. Being the host should have advantages. Goes without saying. And of course these were there, just not in the ready to digest form I wanted at that moment in the corner. These weren't friends overall. I shouldn't have expected them to act as if they could be for a few hours. Pocket universes in interaction don't exist so easily. I would have had to do something a bit more extreme I think. But it still should have been different.
Paintball with FSC. I can't wait until next year!
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All non-daughter writings of Carolyn's Diary are not copyright © Carolyn L Burke, 1996, and may not be copied without permission except for non-commercial gain. See what your lawyers can't make of that.