154 new messages

i just checked my old e-mail account to find 154 new messages in the inbox. the bulk mail box had an even more insane amount. but, even with filters galore on that account, guess how many of those messages were written specifically to me? i'm going to assume that you also get lots of depressing junk mail that gets you all excited thinking that someone actually wrote to you, only to find out that no, no one did, and yes, you are in fact the pathatic loser that you thought you were, because not one of those pieces of mail was written by someone you knew - someone whom you could write back to. they were from teen girls with wet pussys and companies wanting to add spice to your bedroom life (which by the way, you don't have) with viagra or some new method to add one to three inches to your penis. basically, it's very depressing.

and today, i went to the dermatologist to get my accutane prescription refilled, and she asked she me the standard rote of questions: have you been having any muscle cramps? any headaches? have you been feeling depressed? and just as mechanically as she asked the questions, i replied: no no no. but the last question, i wanted to say yes to, to scream: yes, i have been feeling more and more depressed! i am sad!!! yesterday, i just missed my train transfer at l'enfant plaza coming home from work. pouted, started singing elton john's "your song" over and over - which was stuck in my head after hearing it at work - and then i just started crying. not sobbing and screaming like a baby. but stoically crying. and i don't even know why. i go through like hour long funks of deep depression and then buoyantly emerge for a good long while, only to suddenly feel like crap with no identifiable provokation. and, maybe it is the accutane that is making me a nutcase.

or maybe, it's that my dad will be dead in a short three months from lung cancer. maybe i see sarah smoke and want to punch her in the face. maybe it's that my dad is also a drug addict and is such an asshole, making it so hard to feel sympathy for him. maybe it has something to do with my sister verbalizing what i fear to think. that i am a slacker. "so, why aren't you in school right now?," she asked me yesterday when i talked to her. she then with a-why-the-hell-would-you-want-to-live-at-home-when-you-could-be-in-college-around-people-that-you-like-partying-and-living-the-fabled-college-good-life-and-not-have-to-work-and-come-home-to-play-on-the-internet-or-watch-tv-because-you-have-no-friends-to-hang-out-with attitude tells me that i am wasting my life, just sitting at home. and she is so right, this is not why i took a semester off, and i don't even know why i did anymore, fuck, i don't know why i do anything. and she asks me in a way that sounds like she is seriously concerned about my future, if i'm going back to school, like she thinks that i'm not. and i scream yes, yes, of course i am going to go back. maybe it also has something to do with my dad coming back over here today because the nurse from the hospice was coming here, and after she came he was about to go back to manasas and he told me that he had to call the police. that he's "working undercover now." don't ask. please. because i didn't. i just said okay, and retreated to my room with a book because i didn't want to know what type of asshole thing my dad was involved with in snitching on his fellow drug users. i didn't want to know any of it. i just wanted to not be living in this increasingly cartoonish reality that i find myself in these days.

i tried to get sarah to go to a movie with me tonight. she tried to get me to go to her campus's gay pride group meeting with her. i told her that i did not want to go. damn it, i just want to see a movie. she said that we would do something tomorrow night, but she is pretty flaky, and i am starting to think she is dull and suburban and never wants to do anything that i want to do. and so, i may not do something with her anyways.

rather than going to the pride meeting, where i probably could have met some some cute boys, and maybe even made some friends, i went with my mom and sister to tyson's corner mall. my sister needed a dress for some school dance. i wandered around the mall, looking at cds, attempting to look in a couple of stores, only to be intimidated by hot, scary, gay men. kenneth cole was the worse. they were so scary there. i felt so so inappropriate. like a man wearing a fanny pack. except i was not as blissfully touristy and unaware as that, i was so so self-conscious about my fanny pack - about my inadequacies under the what-are-you-doing-in-here stares of guys who thought that they were the hottest thing since boxed macaroni and cheese. i spent the rest of the time in some store called "fancy world," staffed by two nice japanese men who were not scary at all - they were the comforting arms of mom after being scared by hot gay salesdudes. the store sold all this hello kitty, sailor moon, and other kitschy anime stuff. they sold a fucking hello kitty toaster oven, people! and i marveled at all the japanese letters on some of the items, so so wanting to learn japanese.

and then i met back up with the fam and we left for home, which was a fun ride back. high as a kite, looking out the car windows, the happiest dog out for a carride in the whole world. came home watched some tv. real world was actually good tonight. some lesbian fighting going on. and the drama continues next week. showed a preview with police breaking up a fight between anissa and her bitch of a girlfriend, veronica. people, mtv can be so good sometimes.

and i have to wake up in the morning because plumbers are vague and one is going to show up sometime mid-morning to fix one of our toilets so that our shit can flow like it used to. and i think that is what i want with everything. an equally vague nostalgia is yearning for a return to the past - not any specific one, but just the happiness of the past - for my shit to flow like it used to.