after spending an hour in the internet shop…
June 11, 2007i've decided to fucking move. it's nice here and all but i'd like something that would:
1. not take 10 minutes to upload simple, nonsensical updates about my morbid life.
2. something that would goad me to MOVE ON! OI! not slow doooooowwwwwnnnnn.
3. something that would not say DRAFT, even if i've actually decided on publishing the post.
4. something that would not look jumped up. everytime i open this page, everything just seems so… big.
like most things in life, you never give something totally unworth it, seconds.
so i've moved here instead. yes, it is girly. and yes it excudes the hi-i'm-eight-and-have-learned-to-blog-10- minutes-ago vibe.but it is indeed a whole lot faster. and for now, speed is all i'm interested in.
It’s a Saturday and I do not know where I am.
June 9, 2007After a couple of hours, I decide to go into a PC shop. I have not written anything in a while and am waiting for the need to kick in.
So I check my email accounts, which I haven't done for some time since our IT department in the office decided, once and for all, to be a total bitch about our internet access.
First, I go to Friendster. I am overwhelmed (can I never be just whelmed about things? does it always have be an excess of emotion, a trick of light?) by the 56 messages I have to respond to. I try to look at the messages that I think would be relevant to me. I am by turns SAD and HOPEFUL. I wonder, for the nth time about the whys of things that have never happened and now, never will.
I look in on some of my friends' profiles. An ex-friend's picture filled me with utter dread ,since included now was her, the subject of our total disgust, smiling cheerly as if she did not mind looking inserted.Out of place.
My inboxes are filled with invitations to MYSpaceVOXTRICKLEMultpilyGOOGLETALKetcetc. I think I'm going to pass out. There are so many letters, different sizes, shapes, colors - more than I know what to do with. I just SKIPSKIP and go back to Friendster. I wonder when I have enabled the feature that just accepts and accepts these kinds of testimonials:
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The world is broken. I finally believe it.
Then, I come across an email from an ex of mine. He asks me how I am and how I've been. Since before, he was one of the few people who can really ascertain that there is a difference between what was and what is. Then he asks me to go visit his blog.
And I do. Like all mistakes, it is hard to absorb at first. Like seeing your house burning, and all you can think of is whether or not you left the towel on the bathroom floor.
His blog contains stories about me. Little snippets - this time, that time. A year between sentences, hacked by relentless drafts (I can tell). Me in parentheses (you, the world). Me in a red dress on a cold Sunday, hiding behind Jesus and pillars of grief.
This makes me so sad I feel like puking. I am suddenly 7 years younger.
