10.15.05

I am looking forward to living in Stumptown proper. But could someone tell me how I've already packed eight boxes of books and the end isn't in sight? There are six more shelves to clear. There will be books that've wandered into dark corners and bred, or something. My CDs fit into one box with only a few slopping over.

Mater walked into my room this morning and made fake sobbing sounds as she looked at the uproar. KaliHellKitty is at her wits' end. The last time there were this many boxes around she spent two days in a cat carrier as I drove from LA to Oregon. Her displeasure in the move will be quite interesting as it plays out.

Mater offered to buy a futon for me, which I ain't gonna refuse.

I've been feeling kinda weepy lately. I suspect that hormones play a role, but still, there's been a lot going on in my head. Finally burying my illusory relationship with HK, and my fleeting, uhm, thing with JR...I'm wondering if it's just me making terrible choices. Actually, I'm convinced it's me making terrible choices. What seems to attract me most to men is their attraction for me. But I think that they buy the facade, and are disappointed when I am not the fantasy construct. I think that happens in all relationships, but I have the ability to trigger a hideous, run away, response faster than fast.

I listened to my own advice this week. After I danced Wednesday evening, a guy tried to chat me up. Rule one; never trust the guy who tries when I'm in belly dance drag. I countered with a dysentery story. Defensive? Maybe. But I'm tired of bullshit. Tired of being polite to guys who'll just drop me anyways. Why bother? If I can run them off sooner, then I'll save myself some more grief.

Funny thing; as I write this, there are tears just a-coursin' down my face. It's as if some part of me doesn't want to believe that. As if somehow, somewhere, some way, there's a guy who'll have the patience to wade through my shit. Who cares about me despite me. Someone to whom I will be attracted.

Yet I know that it's pie-in-the-sky, ridiculous, romantic bullshit; that I must risk all to find something like that--oh, but I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of hoping and being proved wrong.

I have no talent for relationships. I wish I did. Should I be cruel and date men who don't set my skin a-sizzle, but who like me? It'd be a way to learn the ins and outs, because I wouldn't feel so deeply and fall so hard.

Last week I asked JR if part of his attraction to me was the challenge of "getting" Xat the Unobtainable. He denied it, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.

Hell. I don't know.

Well, off to copyediting country for a friend's newest book, and an attempt to write new stuff for a fund-raising, poetry reading tomorrow.

All the stuff that I wrote for and about HK is done. I don't want to read it anymore. It seems juvenile now--the lost whining of a child denied its favourite toy.

Gads. You gotta lurve depression and hormones. Here's a terrible confession; I've got the creeping cold that everyone around seems to have, and probably won't go out this evening. However, I'll be really upset if no one calls. How lame is that?

Oh well.

Go. Be fabulous.

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