PI! Ironic much? Well, it's really not that ironic. I remember in my first English class in college we spent an entire class period defining "ironic" and my teacher accepted very few examples. It was pretty fucking awesome.
So, I've had a pretty alright day today. To my dismay, my "therapist" said that next week will be our last meeting. There's a waiting list for other troubled CCSF students, ya know.
I've been really passive aggressive lately. Two of my good friends contacted me today, and another yesterday and it made me really happy. I've been in isolation pretty much. Voluntarily under a rock, yet blaming my problems on others and obsessing over things that everyone else seems to be fine with. Things like money and consuming and the government and tiring of hearing about Obama. I must admit, I yelled out the window in reply to the kids joyfully screaming and running through the streets when he got elected. Thank God, right? Well, I think I've had enough with inspirational speakers/speaking/speeches in general. The same rush can be given at a rock show or, for example, the Prop 8 (prop hate!) march I attended tonight.
Got to journalism class downtown, semi-prepared (not stoned this time) only to leave right after to catch the march that started in the Castro. I took many pages of notes and quotes and crowd estimates and jotted down some of the signs I saw. A favorite: "Which civil rights Would Jesus Deny?" So that was pretty cool, but that's about it. They took some eleven year old kid up with two moms and he read a letter he sent to someone or other important in Sacramento or something. It was fucking cute. Then some old labor fighter guy almost made me cry. Then I got distracted by this bum I've actually seen around town before, dressed in rainbow and American flag with a fire fighter's hat- AND a broom which he used as a saber. He marched in place and posed for the cameras and twirled his cape to the music. The horrible music. Heard of Johnny Schaeffer? Check him out - he's from L.A. and apparently can sing about gay issues and love and what not... that's all I will tell you. They saved the best for last, let's say.
Important officials from the NAACP and lots of ther organizations appeared in support for the march and issue being negotiated tomorrow. It was cool, Harvey Milk's (needless to say gay) nephew was there. I awkwardly asked a few people some questions, perhaps a little too personal. Tried asking a cop/security guard a question and he was all, "Are you the media?" and I said no... But he still didn't cooperate, so I took his bat and hit him over the bald head and watched blood seep out. Hahahahahahha.
Then I saved my march candles for nastolgia's sake and started toward the station when I ran into two classmates and my teacher headed for a beer. I accepted the offer and we went ot this fancy shcmancy place with Anchor Steam AND Fat Tire on tap in these really awesome tall beer glasses. He paid and offered to pay for two even! Teacher's a good funny guy, Virgo. Can't help but find him cute. And I can't believe I denied a second beer. I've been accusing myself of alcoholism and addiction lately but really I just have a lack of control and no spine...
That's my excuse.
I walked hom in the rain and didn't cry about it for the first time in like a month.
My mom and dad are coming to visit me in a week. I feel so bad for the way I've been acting toward them, they probably think I'm fucking insane. I told me mom I heard voices ONLY because she asked me if I did, and I said sometimes. Then she asked me how much weed I was smoking and I said not that much.
Lie.
I go bck and fourth and I need to cement my feet in an appropriate boundary for substance abuse... I need to not focus my attention on the one person I can't stand right now, and I need to be clear with my priorities and my options and my wants and needs and so on.
Simple as that, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment