face pain
November 19, 2001 at 9:08 p.m.
maybe it should depress me. maybe it did.
monday night, sitting in mismatched clothes on the couch, eating a dinnner of mixed veggies that I tried to make exotic - by adding dressing and parmesan, and watching Ally McBeal, waiting for my clothes to finish in the washer.
Then I see this kiss on the TV - a kiss I haven't had in a while and won't for a very long time.
And I yell in mock outrage, laughing at the TV, my dinner and me.
just me. it's kind of exotic, right?
()*&*&%^$^#%#$&&*&^((
on Sunday a bigbig violin lady told me I had no business trying to get a masters because I'm just not very good.
she doesn't know me. She hasn't heard me play in 5 years. And she doesn't remember that. She's old and wrinkly.
I still cried all day. and today, too. My face hurts. Dad promised to stop getting these things on me, but he can't help it. He's so freaking pro-active. But I don't know what I want. I don't know what makes me happy anymore. I don't know what will make me happy for the rest of my life. And I just can't choose right now.
I'm tired and I'm confused.
I keep getting told to do things one thing at a time... but in the next sentence there are 16 other thngs that I should be aware of. Options.
If you were 22, almost done with a degree in violin performance, and the world lying there in front of you, what would you do? That choice is dangling in front of me like a big carrot and it keeps getting jerked away everytime another option pops up, it seems. that's supposed to be the opposite effect, huh?
I want a reason to be here. I want to be good at something. Something that might validate all I've tried to do.
And NO I did not just say that. I wish I could take my own medicine and stop dishing it out.
I just need a rest. from life. but maybe it won't be there when I get back. so i keep trucking.