(moving the goalposts)

write/ older entries/ / miss miranda/ burningtheletters.net

2003-12-29 - 12:44 a.m.

Manic-depression is a frustrating mess.

I am in complete denial about my bipolar-ness lately.

I still don't want to believe that I have to deal with it. I just want it to go away. It's hard to be a perfectionist with an undeniable reality of mental illness to deal with.

Somehow, putting a name/proper diagnosis to it made it harder for me to deal with. It's something I've been experiencing all of my life, something pre-disposed and genetic, not something that I just developed in the recent past. It hasn't snuck up on me or surprised me or anything.

Although I firmly believe in the de-stigmatization and un-glamourizing of mental illness, there's still part of me that absolutely does not want people to know this about me. And I hate that I still feel that way.

I'm in denial. But being in denial does nothing for me. I need to learn that I can deal with it & take care of it without having to let it overtake my entire life, become the entirety of my identity, change who I am/want to be.

It's all just so confusing.

(x-posted to livejournal)

( 1 tell me?)

2003-12-22 - 12:18 p.m.

Sometimes it's as if I'm walking through water instead of air, struggling when I don't need to be, unable to see how I'm damaging myself, how even the slightest shift in perception would change everything for the better.

I'm extremely self-aware but sometimes I'm missing that final connecting point, the one that tells me/allows me to not only see what I'm doing, but to act on it, to change it, to turn theory into action & thesis into synthesis.

More and more pieces fall into place each day, but it's a waiting game, growing up, learning, trying, I'm just trying so very hard.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-12-11 - 5:03 p.m.

I am already sick of the holiday season in a lot of ways. It has the tendency to make both me and those I love depressed/anxious/unhappy. I don't like the rampant consumerism of it, nor do I like that it is assumed that everyone celebrates Christmas. The only thing I can think of that helps is to make lists.

One of the things that has always helped a bit with my depression has been taking action, being proactive, refusing to be totally passive. Making lists is action of a sort. For the holidays, I like to make a list of things I like/things that make me happy about the holidays and things I dislike/things that make me anxious or depressed. Then I make sure that I do a lot of the happy things, and avoid the unpleasant things as much as possible.

This is vital to do, even if it makes people around you disappointed or unhappy. It is critical to put your mental health first, especially this time of year. Believe me, your family/friends would rather be upset for a while about you not being able to attend their party than they would about your serious depression/withdrawl. It's worth it.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-12-03 - 1:11 a.m.

I think I finally finally finally understand the idea of The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

I've loved the book for years, and, on a certain level, I've always connected with it, always "got" it, but suddenly tonight it dawned on me:

I believe myself to be a person best experienced in flashes, like lightning. I am at my most beautiful in shadows, backlit by soft light, within someone's fleeting memory of a perfect night or a strange day.

I know this, and I constantly attempt to be that mysterious girl, only letting you see a bit of me, hiding in shadows and subterfuge and in the space between light and dark, sun and shadow.

But there is always a part of me that wants to be more, wants to be heavy, wants to be an unforgettable presence, wants to know I can be loved when I'm not just in and out, coming and going, like a hummingbird, like a bumble bee, lost in shadows.

I want to know that I can be the girl of the present, of intensity & passion & committment, as well as the girl who is well-lit in your dreams & daytime nostalgic reveries.

I do not want to be unbearably light. I have only taken it on as a defense, a way to obtain desire, a reflection of my need for love, for glamour, for protection.

But I long to be present, inescapable, real, fleshy, loved.

This is something that dawned on me tonight.

This is my long-overdue personal epiphany about this book.


( 2 tell me?)

2003-12-03 - 12:56 a.m.

I am realizing more and more the causes and effects and consequences of my emotions, of my behavior. I am moving back into my passionate skin, my emphatic desire, my constant curiousness. I feel awake & alive & painfully aware of my flaws, my weaknesses, my issues. But I'm also learning how to harness those flaws, inhabit them, accept myself for what and who I am. Realize that it's beautiful and alluring and special, a lot of the time.

Mr. Jung was right.

This self-acceptance thing is terrifying.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-30 - 11:25 p.m.

I am fascinated by the idea of formulating and utilizing a poetic self. I have been thinking about it ever since reading/finishing Diane Middlebrook's excellent recent bio of Hughes/Plath.

I know that my driving force/search/desire in my art so far has been loss: preventing it, recovering from it, fearing it, reclaiming it, re-defining it, using it.

This isn't something I chose. But it is something that I can use and grow within.

Sometimes I really really want someone to write a literary-type biography of/for me.

But I need to just be realistic and start to do more of the literary/personal/poetic study/analysis of myself on my own.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-24 - 9:08 p.m.

I touched a chunk of snow today and I was suddenly and fiercely brought back to being a child, playing in the snow, the feel of it, the taste of it, the smell of it. The amazing and joyful sight of it.

I am sometimes dramatically brought back to when things were lighter, more tangible, more playful, easier. I need to rejuvenate that connection, reunite myself with that excited, courageous, thrilled child.

I need to play in the snow again.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-23 - 11:05 p.m.

It is freezing outside, slick, dangerous, snowy. So beautiful yet so lethal. It is on nights like this that I most want to be stable, warm, safe. I wish that I could freeze time and always keep my toes warm under the blankets, being comforted by the sporadic sound of the heater, reading and sleeping and feeling blissful.

This is the essence of turning winter lemons into lemonade.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-20 - 11:21 p.m.

I wish I could be half of what I want to be, what I see myself as being, what I planned for myself.

Or maybe it's just that I wish I could have less expectations for myself, love myself as I am, delight in my successes and my failures.

I think the key lies somewhere in-between.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-19 - 11:12 p.m.

Reading the Plath/Hughes bio has really set me into a tailspin of sorts, but not necessarily a bad one. I've been living in their lives for the past 2 weeks, and I'm seeing so much of myself reflected.

I am trying to unlearn the process of making ordinary humans into idealized gods in my mind and heart. I am also trying to unlearn the idea that "ordinary" is anything less than magnificent.

The book is reflecting me back to myself. It's that crucial and valuable. It's one of those books I am simultaneously really excited and really sad to be almost done with.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-19 - 10:35 a.m.

I cannot stop feeling frustrated and antsy lately. I am hoping that this will soon pass.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-13 - 11:18 p.m.

I dislike so much that I am always worrying so much about abandonment of every possible kind. I hate that I think that I have to make people love me all over again every time I see them. It's terrible that I cannot trust in the at least semi-permanance of love. It's awful that I don't have the ability to even fully and adequately conceptualize true trust.

I just want a night without worries, an ability to believe that not everything is completely ephemeral and transient, and a good night's sleep without waking up at 4 am in panic and a cold sweat about nothing in particular but about everything in the world.


( 1 tell me?)

2003-11-11 - 11:53 p.m.

As I grow up, I become much more of a realist.

I used to think that becoming more of a realist equaled selling out.

I was totally wrong.

Becoming more of a realist is something that has occured has I have become less of a perfectionist, less hard on myself.

I used to think the only love I should want was perfect love. But love and relationships are anything but perfect. And that's why they're so beautiful.

Ironic, maybe. But so true. The same is true with how I view myself. I used to think that if I wasn't perfect in all possible ways, than I wasn't a good or worthy person at all.

I also used to think that the world as it is was too harsh, ugly, fucked up for me to live in. So I lived in my head, in fairytales and wishes. And, although fairytales and wishes are indeed very important, I have recently become acutely aware of just how beautiful this imperfect fucked up real world is.

I wouldn't trade it for a thing.

Pragmatism isn't necessarily the enemy of an artist's heart and soul. I am slowly learning this. I can be many things all at once.

I am learning, learning, learning.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-06 - 12:20 a.m.

i am becoming a real adult, i think.

this is scary and what i need and thrilling and terrifying.

i am always so afraid that i can't succeed, can't be happy, can't have good things happen to me because success = death and i am so afraid to succeed. afraid that something catastrophic will happen and i will lose it all.

it's sad how ingrained and deep feelings of self-disdain are.

must eliminate those. they're stupid and pointless.

must love self and know that i deserve good.


( 0 tell me?)

2003-11-01 - 9:51 a.m.

I am learning to figure out love and life, to figure out chance and fate, to figure out desire and pragmatics.

But things are just fine. I have love, friends, potential, and intellect. And that's more than I can even ask for.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-25 - 10:31 a.m.

when i can just let go, not analyze every moment to death both before and after it happens, not obsess about every detail, not get lost in self-loathing or sadness, those are the times that are idyllic.

being inside a museum after hours, with half the people i know and half the town there too, with too much coffee and cookies and giggling at the lunchbox display and drinking free beer, this is like heaven, my hair in buns and my best boots on.

you were the star and i loved to watch you shine, impressed by your fame and i loved you then. running around with s. like we're still 12 is never less than perfect. even a dorky jazz band can't ruin this fun.

yes, last night was great.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-20 - 8:25 p.m.

oh god oh god oh god

let me hide on my front porch, completely exposed to the world, under that light, indulging, prophesizing, dreaming.

don't make me leave this place.

this isn't drama, this is real life, this is real.

this is real.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-19 - 2:46 p.m.

your 10-year old eyes are heavy with what you haven't experienced yet. you know it's coming and you're terrified and thrilled all at once. you live in the wild, clawing at branches to make sure you're still alive and that you're not dreaming. you study books and learn empathy while staring at the stars between your fingers, laying on the deck at night.

eyes so deep, so intense, so tired already. but hope remains, lives on, struggles for breath, will always survive.

i can see it.

you're going to be ok.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-16 - 10:00 a.m.

The one thing I cannot forget is the moment I walked in to my paternal grandmother’s dingy basement Iowa apartment (the only time I ever met her) and saw the picture of my perpetually absent father rolling on the ground and playing with his nieces. It was taken that year. I was 8. He had never done that for me, with me. I suddenly felt incredibly unworthy and too messy to be loved and oh so tired of the lies and the deceit and the betrayal.

I was 8.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-15 - 9:17 p.m.

i have this completely irrational (i know, i know) fear of people forgetting about me. my logic tells me it's ridiculous and pointless to worry about, but my heart tells me over and over again that if my own father can do it, why can't everyone else? why won't everyone else?

trust issues, yes. but it's also like i'm a 6 month old baby who firmly believes in the motto, "out of sight, out of mind," who doesn't understand that i'm worthy of staying in people's hearts even when they can't see me, touch me, feel me.

it's a mix bag, a confusing feeling, a pressing problem.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-10-13 - 7:20 p.m.

my aesthetic (fashion, art, beauty, taste, desires, talents) comes from:

my father's obsession with casinos. nico. my grandmother's entire closet. the flushed red in my first love's cheeks. sylvia plath. the red carpeted warmth of my childhood church. alienation. a childhood fascination with the constellations. natalie merchant, circa 1995. micheal stipe, circa 1983. andy warhol's factory. french new wave cinema. bob dylan's "isis." patty hearst. anais nin. my grandmother's love for chanel #5 and chantilly. my mother's blazers and boots, circa 1984. jane austen's novels. pavement's slanted and enchanted. living in seattle. all of the velvet underground's music and style. ruffled panties i wore in 1982. rem's "camera." faulkner's the sound and the fury. jack kerouac's double nature. sleater-kinney's the hot rock. seeing the ocean for the first time. composition notebooks. love.


( 1 tell me?)

2003-10-12 - 10:03 a.m.

i can't quite pinpoint why i'm so very petrified of everything lately.

the past has taught me that i can survive almost anything, survive it alone, and survive it well, coming out on the other side stronger and tougher and better off.

still, though, i feel like everything is fragile, about to break, about to drop me, hurt me, betray me. i don't trust life right now.

i need to re-align my logic with my heart again, y'know?

( 2 tell me?)

2003-10-09 - 5:59 p.m.

oh, how wickedly coy and fleeting my self-confidence and positive self-image can be. it's there one minute and then dissolves in tears the next.

i'm strong, i'm terribly, sometimes painfully strong, but my self-image isn't yet as under my control as i wish it was.

it's getting better, but it's still so slippery, so hard to not talk down to myself or criticize myself too much.

it's confusing.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-05 - 2:34 p.m.

i only love this city at night.

only when i'm driving on bridges with the windows open, cold air rushing in, and "judy and the dream of horses" playing loudly on the stereo.

or when i'm wandering the streets with someone i love, drunk on the lights and potential and passion and chemistry and forgetfullness.

the daytime here is often harsh and unforgiving.

it's really no place for a romantic until dark.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-03 - 6:47 p.m.

when i am not in a manic state, i look on my manic times with vague embarassment and cringe at the exuberance and overwhelming energetic frenzied passion i display. i can't comprehend my rash decisions, impulsive plans, fervently important desires. i just can't.

but when i'm manic again it suddenly and fully all makes sense again. it's as if i've been given new glasses to wear, ones that let me see the true importance and excitement and pressing need of every task, every feeling, every relationship that i have. feeling manic is like flying, mostly pleasant and useful but always i'm totally terrified about crashing down, losing my balance, dropping out of the sky.

i know i have to land sometime.

it's the ephemerality, the sheer temporality of manic periods that scares me the most.

they taught me early in life that nothing good comes without a flip-side, a dark side, danger, fear, change.

they make me crave stability and non-changing moods so very much.

but i couldn't live without them, i know that.

so i'll do what i can, what i have to, what i need to, what i love.


( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-03 - 6:40 p.m.

i want nothing more than to go away for the weekend with you, lay in bed all day, go out all night, eat decadently, love unabashedly, feel wholly and without limits.

i need escape, i need this, i need you.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-10-02 - 10:29 a.m.

sometimes the very best way i know to show my emotions is to drive around at 1am, the fragile light of my cigarette half-out of the car window, yelling "you're beautiful" to passers-by.

(somehow, this is both real and allegorical)

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-30 - 8:47 a.m.

today is my 25th birthday.

my silver anniversary of life on this planet.

i resolve to:

- love harder

- not put up such a wall between myself and the world

- express myself profusely, ignoring my fears of failure (use my talents, don't let them die and fade into glowingly memorable resentment)

i often look back on the past with guilt and can't pinpoint why or what i'm feeling guilty for

i hope to be able to look to the future with eyes open, expectations thrown to the side, heart beating fast, fear of failure and pain tossed aside as often as possible.

(that's what i need, what i love, what i want so very badly)


( 2 tell me?)

2003-09-27 - 1:30 a.m.

i love going to the theatre to see movies alone. today i went in the afternoon and i was the only one in the theatre. i sat near the front, put my legs up on the railing, tapped my heels on the metal, laughed loudly, talked back to the screen when i felt compelled, and had a generally thrilling time.

it's very platonic, very allegory of the cave. the reality of what and how a movie is is inescapable when you are sitting alone in front of a huge screen.

but that doesn't destroy the magic, the escape.

(knowledge and awe are not mutually exclusive)

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-24 - 10:38 a.m.

i get strange rushes of nostalgia and regret every time i drive by my old high school.

the adjacent streets are haunted with memories. i see myself riding in cars, listening to blaring music, smoking, talking in absolutes, feeling certain that no one anywhere ever could ever or would ever possibly understand me and my mind.

i built identity in those blocks, molding myself first into the exact opposite of what i was supposed to be, using that strict private school as the massive entity against which i fought. eventually, it calmed down and i learned that my real identity shouldn't be shaped by complete opposition to or hate of anything.

but for a while, for a golden numb reckless while, i was 17 and immortal and skipping school and wearing fishnets with ripped skirts and anything was possible.

my rage was lucid and my life was in everyone else's hands.

it had to pass. and i know i was hip and intellectual but immature and the world was black and white to me. but sometimes i'd like to go back, for one day, to the feeling of air rushing across my face, my strangely colored hair blowing in the wind, my insouciance palpable, my rebellion simple and on fire.

(let me feel immortal and guiltlessly immoral again for just one day? please?)

( 1 tell me?)

2003-09-21 - 8:58 p.m.

flashback to 1990. i'm standing in my grandma's house, in one of the extra bedrooms. i call it the "pink room" because the carpet and the bedspread are pink. whenever i'm staying with her for long periods of time, especially in the summer, i bring my radio shack tape deck into that room and play the tapes of the songs i've so carefully recorded off of the radio. bobby brown, taylor dayne, tiffany, etc. i dance and pretend i'm on stage, watching myself in the huge mirror that takes up the entirety of one of the walls.

for those moments, i'm a star, i'm special, i'm talented, i'm somebody.

i'm somebody.

i coveted fame. i wanted to be famous so that the kids who always picked on me would say "wow, i guess she wasn't as ugly as we said she was. i sure learned my lessson."

this was my fantasy, my ridiculous beautiful fantasy.

one day i acquired a "greatest hits of the '60s" tape and became obsessed with the diana ross and the supremes song, "love child." i would sing it over and over again, louder and louder, until one day my grandma opened the door and asked me to turn it off. i was devastated and embarassed.

from then on, i always whispered the lyrics to "love child" when i was lonely, or panicked, or sent to my room. it became my mantra, my ticket to fame, my validating anthem.

i just wanted to be known. to show them all.

i had to hope for something.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-09-17 - 6:58 p.m.

i sometimes exist somewhere above myself, at a cruelly close yet impossibly far distance, plotting and scheming and desiring, while my hands and body perform routines and boring tasks.

it's a survival skill. it's self-directed disassociation. it's confusing, but i suppose it's good that i can use what was originally developed as a child's defense mechanism in bad situations, and turn it to my advantage.

but i guess i'm just sad that i even need to at all...

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-15 - 9:16 a.m.

i want exaggerated femininity, over-the-top contrasting colors on lips/face/eyes/body. today i have to shine, to resist, to deny, to reveal.

(i have to survive)

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-14 - 9:54 p.m.

i want the exhiliration of a ferris wheel every night, and the passion of fiery sunset everyday:

( 1 tell me?)

2003-09-14 - 9:51 p.m.

i am learning to stop blaming myself, to see the bigger picture, to give myself the same benefit of the doubt i've always given others. it's an extremely slow process, but it's happening, and that's thrillingly fabulous to me. progress in this area, of any kind, is great news.

the wall is crumbling, and i have more control than i ever began to realize...

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-13 - 10:49 a.m.

have you ever really watched yourself sobbing in a mirror? it's horribly beautiful and terribly embarassing. it's necessary. it helped me to snap out of the intense self-pity i've been in the midst of lately, too.

it's so hard to learn to accept and value and not repress my emotions. it's something i should have learned about 20 years ago but never did. so i'm running late, but i'm catching up, slowly. learning. doing what i have to do.

realizing that things happen when they can, when they should, when i'm ready for them.

let me talk and talk and talk, i need to get it all out...

( 1 tell me?)

2003-09-11 - 11:54 a.m.

i hold things in until i burst, until everything rushes forth in a torrent of emotion, voice, art, desire. i have to break that habit, have to learn how to express myself constantly, consistently, and fully. the repression and the up and down nature of it all is hurting me deeply.

resolution: to tear down the wall.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-09-09 - 10:40 p.m.

sometimes (not often, but sometimes) i get the urge to call you. see how your new life is going. see how work is, how love is, how play is. i wonder if you still are obsessing over the same things, questioning the same things, desiring the same things.

i doubt it. i've grown up over and over again since our break up. you probably have too. it's been 3 years and 9 months now. i wonder if you still talk in your sleep, and if you still have trouble speaking in front of people. if you still want to be a teacher. if you still write.

i have forgotten what your face looks like, what it felt like to be in your arms, what your touch felt like. and that's a huge victory for me.

it's almost frightening to me how thoroughly i've forgotten you, how i have mostly erased you from my memory. i never thought that would happen. i never really wanted it to happen.

but in that forgetting lies freedom, lies growth. sometimes i want to talk, to catch up. but you don't make me flutter anymore, don't make my heart beat faster, don't fill me with what-ifs and regrets.

i have forgiven and forgotten, i guess.


( 2 tell me?)

2003-09-09 - 7:45 p.m.

things are shifting, morphing, evolving. some things are floating away, while some have only just begun. and the importance of certain other things has been made suddenly clear to me.

this is all vague, but it has to be right now. it's beautiful, and i'm excited.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-09-03 - 5:46 p.m.

when my cousin was 11 and i was 15, we spent a lot of time talking. he was into classic rock and basketball. i was getting into underground stuff and had recently stopped participating in team sports. but we had been close as little kids (i often dressed him up in costumes, until he got too old and upset to sit still and let me brush his hair and put his feet in high heels anymore), and we were finally rekindling that closeness.

we'd sit outside of the restaurant where our family always had birthday parties, usually on sunday afternoons. he'd ask me about music. i'd tell him some bands to listen to. he'd ask if i had ever done drugs. i'd ask if he had. we were carefully sniffing each other out, seeing what lines we could cross, what boundaries we could break. seeing where each other stood in relation to ourselves.

it was an attempt to create a small island of excitement in a family that we didn't always feel we belonged in. we sought each other out. one late autumn sunday afternoon, we sat together outside of the pizza place, basking in the light coming out of the party room window, cross-legged and staring out at the parking lot. suddenly, i can't remember who started singing first, but we were both in the midst of belting out metallica's "enter sandman." we sang it loudly and totally off-key, even doing the air-guitar and air-drums at the right moments. it was hilarious.

it was ephemeral, it was us, it was real.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-09-01 - 9:58 p.m.

i felt like everyone was watching me, everyone was criticizing me. i was suddenly 15 again, vulnerable, awkward, alone. i never have the right clothes, the right hair, the right attitude. i'm geeky and gawky and i don't know quite how to be, what to show, how to keep walking, keep smiling, keep staring ahead, keep from falling down and crying.

shit, why is it that one day i'm grown up and together and confident and beautiful and the next i feel like a clumsy toad? it's getting easier but the struggle never stops, never lets go.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-29 - 11:44 a.m.

i am an intellectual, an old lady, a giggly teenager, a little girl, a mature woman, a thinker, a diva, a holy woman, dead sexy, a bookworm, immature, precocious, a critical thinker, a clotheshound, an activist, a young woman, a poet, a nerd.

i am all of these things all of the time and then some. i cannot be defined in one word or two or even 1,000. don't put labels on me, don't try to put me neatly into a box of any kind, because i'll jump right back out, i'll kick you and then steal the box and make it into an art project. yeah.

i am learning how much there is out there, and how, in the past, my own self-imposed rules and limitations have stopped me from enjoying it all.

i have no label: labels are for cans. i'm miranda, and you can't stop me, so don't even try.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-27 - 10:25 a.m.

i'm terrified because this will be the first autumn in 19 years that i haven't gone back to school. i'm jumping off into the unknown. i'm operating with a new set of rules. i'm moving into a new paradigm. it's thrilling. it's disturbing. it's everything.

i'm the perpetual student. but even i need a break.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-08-22 - 6:54 a.m.

i have begun to stop placing irrational and harmful expectations on people i love. i have to stop thinking someone can save me, or can even help me to save myself. although i intellectually and logically have known for years&years that no one can save me, my emotions are just now finally catching up to my brain and intellect.

so here's the thing, the resolution: i am the only one who can make my life into what i want it to be. i am the only one who can maintain hope/excitement/desire/happiness/creativity/love. it lets me respect and trust myself more while simulataneously having healthier and better relationships with those i love.

and maybe, after it all, i don't even need to be saved at all. y'know?

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-20 - 4:49 a.m.

a lot of times we just have to trust that our words, our thoughts, our creations, our voices are helping someone, changing someone, affecting someone. communication and writing are very often a matter of trust, because every person who is touched by our words cannot/will not write to us, let us know what they felt/thought.

yet, it's in that trust, that leap of faith that we grow as writers, as thinkers, as activists, as communicators. we just have to trust sometimes.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-14 - 4:35 p.m.

oh my skin is bright red, i'm sore and cranky and still jobless, but i'm excited again.



( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-12 - 10:19 p.m.

i just want everybody to talk about everything suddenly, to stop the lies and the games and stop hiding things. to just communicate and stop being embarassed or ashamed or guilty. i just want us all to talk. can't we just talk? can't we just share? say it all? say it loudly?

i'm always thrilled when i read something in a zine (or elsewhere) that makes me realize that i'm not the only one that feels that way/says those things/ does those things, etc. it's brilliant and beautiful and it's in that moment of recognition that change and growth (personal and on a larger scale) can occur. it's so full of potential, so real, so rough, so beautiful, so true.

i want to talk about the down and dirty parts of myself, the stupid habits i have, the insecurities, the annoying and sad and strange parts of me. i'm not sure where to begin, though: there's so much to say.

i want to say it so that someone can recognize themselves in it and feel that they're not alone. i want to say it so we can start to talk and communicate and tear down some walls between us all. i want to talk so that we can realize just how real and fragile and in pain we all are.

i'm going to try now, i have to at least try...

( 2 tell me?)

2003-08-12 - 9:34 p.m.

i am a person who is constantly hit with huge feelings of guilt suddenly and with no apparent cause or reason. it's frustrating and it makes me want to hold on much too tightly to the person i'm nearest and say "see! see! i'm not hurting you! i'm not hurting you!"

i feel like a human wrecking ball sometimes, even though my heart knows that i'm usually anything but.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-12 - 9:15 p.m.

last night i dreamt that we were going on a roadtrip, from seattle headed south to las vegas and california. we stopped in tacoma and we thought we had found our old and fancy hotel, but it turned out that we were actually inside a really old mansion.

someone at the door asked me my name but i just turned to you and laughed, and grabbed your hand and ran to look out of the back balcony over the cinema-worthy back yard. it was lush and green and we were silly and beautiful and we decided to just stay there, make our lives there together, and because we wanted it and had so much fun there, the house suddenly became ours, and we lived there, perhaps even happily ever after, staring out over the back yard at the stars.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-08-12 - 6:06 p.m.

the past isn't prologue. i don't want to believe that.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-08-09 - 1:37 p.m.

i am tired of being the linch-pin for everyone, the one everyone knows and the one who has to make all the plans, bring everyone together. the one you won't even call when you're moving away and i'll probably never see you again, because hell, SHE's the planmaker, the responsible one, the together one. if she wants to see me, she'll call.

whatever. here's to continuing along my path to more selfishness, less worry about who is feeling what and are they ok and what kind of community do we have here and what kind of exciting things should we do tonight?

i'm not an operator, i'm not a date book. i can't do it anymore.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-08-07 - 1:36 p.m.

right now, everything hurts. my shell is cracking and maybe that's a good thing, maybe i'm growing up and shedding my skin and it's great. but i am waking up every hour, hearing real & imagined thunder and hoping that an airplane will crash into my bedroom and then everyone will feel sorry for me, so tragic & random, that will be my legacy.

but that's just idiotic. i just want autonomy, to be back where i was, to be grown up again. i hate my mind and that i can't go an hour without horrible graphic violent images of myself popping up inside my head. i hate that i'm terrified of everyone and everything.

i hate that everyone leaves or will eventually leave & that i can't just be a normal girlfriend, that i have to get so immersed and so afraid and so confused.

basically, i'm re-evaluating everything. fighting tears back. not understanding why i can't just grow up right now and have it all. learning to wake up to what i do have and what i have achieved.

i feel useless & pointless. i need to write again more and remember to eat and breathe.

shit, i thought i was past this, that things were gonna be ok and true and lasting now. fuck this.

just fuck it, gotta be tough and true.


( 5 tell me?)

2003-08-05 - 11:32 p.m.

i am not someone who has a lot of trouble saying "no."

that's not my problem at all.

it's just that i can only say "YES!" or "NO!" i don't know how to say anything in-between.

once again i'm struggling against binaries & learning how to live in-between is perhaps the biggest hardest struggle of all, ever.

but it is also the most promising.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-08-05 - 2:15 a.m.

(cross posted to the livejournal!)

so, amy and i went on a vacation!! :)

we had a great time in seattle, as always. we met up with jasmine who is just so sweet and cute and fun (and lives in a cute building!). we had great dinner and amy and i went back to kirkland and watched hilarious public access (and called in!) and the next day we all left for pdx.

the drive down was thankfully pretty easy and fast. we stopped in a gas station in some tiny weird town in southern washington and got apple rings. we arrived in pdx, checked into the hotel, and headed down to psu. it took a bit to find the building, but we found it and met up with the lovely izz and got our table set up. it was a huge room, really overwhelming. we tabled friday and saturday and i soon met so many of my beautiful and talented online friends/acquaintances: aubrey, johanna (who is so adorable and smart and i hope i didn't kick her at all when we shared a bed ;) ), kannan (who is just as hilariously sweet and cute as i imagined!), jen (who is stunningly beautiful and so so sweet), sarah, shosh, korinna (who i was a bit intimidated to meet but who blew me away with her brains&cuteness&strength), krissy (who i admire so so much and who made me feel so welcome and at home), my favorite comics dudes ever: shannon& scott, the gorgeous and great eleanor, jenny (who is even more beautiful and fierce than i expected), the incredibly inspiring and lovely bee and her beautiful family at the hipmama table, sugene (who was so sweet and cute), alex (who i was intimidated to meet but she's really chatty and sweet), krystina (who was so cute and fun), liz (who i didn't really get to talk to but who seemed so sweet), kate & rhonda and their beautiful kids (the ladies were so sweet to me, i was really flattered and so happy to meet them), kara (who does "viva la mama" zine and was really sweet), aj (who was incredibly cute and fun), sean, etc.

i also had random dorky interactions with moe of xtra tuff zine, steve of journalsong (he came by the table, said "hi" and looked at his feet, and i smiled and said "hey!" and he ran away. a very emo moment ;) ), zoe's adorable friend who came and said hi from zoe, michelle/explicit from the pander boards (who is terribly adorable and gorgeous) and her friends, the girls from snapdragon distro, the girl who does "i began smoking because of a boy" who sat next to us and was really cool, the weird stinky hippie guy who does "chickenhead" zine who also sat next to us, dave of on subbing, alli of satan's panties, etc. i also got to talk a bit to bee and ariel gore together. yeah. swoon. i was probably really dorky but wow! very exciting!

wow! i was totally overwhelmed. i usually spend so much time alone, it was really weird to be "on" all the time and meeting all of these people i've known through their words for so long. a lot of people came up to me and said they were excited to meet me and it kinda blew me away. zine fame is weird! i saw a few people whispering and pointing to me when they walked by the table. heh. big famous miranda of the pleiades zine. whatever. oh well, it was ok. i was in awe of meeting so many of my writing heroes so i shouldn't talk.

i went to korinna’'s mental health workshop on saturday but jenny, kannan and i got lost on the way. it was great, though. i wish i could have gone to more workshops. everyone went to the calvin johnson one. how weird that he was teaching a workshop. he bugs me.

it was nice and warm and fuzzy and a great community feeling all through the weekend. sat. night me and amy and jenny, jasmine, and izz went to powells and it was great. then we picked up the lovely miss johanna and all went back to our hotel room for beetlejuice and various other tv watching. it was great.

i was terribly panicked all weekend, though. i kept getting lost ( i thought i knew how to drive in pdx but i was TERRIBLY WRONG, apparently) and had to be "on" all the time and wasn't able to really be alone ever and my love mikey<3 was on a camping trip, etc. i was panicky constantly and being all OCD and i hide it really well but i was really hurting. shite. but i did have a fabulous time. it was just not without struggle, y'know?

and the hipster hegemony is really annoying. like, how you're supposed to be a vegan bike punk who is obssessed with protesting globalization and only eats out of dumpsters or something. there's this unwritten unspoken oppressive sense of conformity that abounded that was really annoying. the anarchists/the crimtheinc people were horribly self-righteous. i wanted to smack them. the bike punks are pretty annoying too, but totally harmless. i think 18year old vegan anarchist non-shaving me would have fit in a lot better. a lot of times i just felt old and non-hip and out of place. but oh well.

portland also has a hollowness to me that i just can't shake. i always get panicky there. seattle never does it to me. part of it is just that i've lived in seattle, i know my way around. but part of it is that portland is just so scene-y, so self-righteous, so hegemonic, so green and pure and healthy, it drives me crazy. it's like seattle without the neurosis and individuality. i love portland but i don't belong there and probably never will.

i was really glad to get home. the drive through the columbia gorge is so boring. i kept almost falling asleep. at least i had the terribly cute and fun amy and am oldies radio and smoking and bad jackinthebox food to keep me company/awake. i hate hate hate having my gas pumped for me. christ above, it is so weird. thankfully, the guy who did it for us was really patient, b/c i have no clue how to do it. i just get so upset, why can't i just swipe my card and pump it myself? grr.

but the no sales tax thing is great. and i'm really inspired now. i was a bit disappointed by the hegemony of it all, but i love zines and my zine community doesn't look at all like the portland zine community, and that's ok. i've had enough exposure to anarchists and white boy punks for the rest of my life, though. heh. i felt old. and i felt most at home with my online friends/the lovely mamas/the comic dudes. the rest of the people got on my nerves.

but FUCK MY FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT CAMERA. it ate 200 pics. christ.

cross your fingers that they can somehow be recovered.

today i woke up sobbing but then realized i had pms/post-vacation let down. but i'm ok now, the period is here. yay! i'm really glad to be home. i really love it here.

ps- this is revolutionary: i'm learning to want what i want, not what i think i should want. it sounds simple but it's taken forever to come this far. i love it.

more soon, and thank you all who i met for being so sweet and inspiring and accomodating to me. a thousand xoxoxoxo.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-07-29 - 4:13 p.m.

it's strangely beautiful to learn things i should have learned when i was 2 or 3. i have the most difficult time understanding that someone's love for me does not go away when i am out of site. i need constant reassurance. but i'm growing up, finally maturing emotionally.

i still need your hand in mine but it's getting better & i finally think it's gonna be alright.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-22 - 8:50 p.m.

i want my thick skin back, my detachment, my cool indifference.

i don't quite know what to make of all this sensation, this feeling, this pain, this desire, this fear.

i don't know if i'm still going through withdrawls or what, but i'm so sick of this.

i actually prayed today, for alleviation from this. here's hoping someone's listening.

( 3 tell me?)

2003-07-22 - 5:17 p.m.

i want nothing more right now than to be in bellingham and be sitting on campus, staring up at the trees on the hill again.

all i want to do today is run away, but i must'nt, i can't...

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-22 - 1:40 p.m.

i'm terribly tired of the panic attacks, the huge temper, the crying, the self-destructive urges. i need to learn how to deal with these, they're eating me up inside. i'm disappearing.

( 4 tell me?)

2003-07-21 - 12:07 p.m.

writing articles for a newspaper is weird- even for a weekly, where it's all features and everything is pretty laid back. i am so used to writing academically. it's scary how well i've been trained that way. unless i'm writing explicitly casually (i.e., letters, journal, etc.), i tend to, by default, write academically.

i'm a pavlovian dog that way: i've been taught that academic writing is what i do best. i've received tons of praise for my academic writing. i'm relatively new to journalistic writing, and a bit (ok, more like a lot) unsure about what to do. so i resort to academic writing.

but i can't. i had to rework it, make it more exciting, make it more conversational. and i wanted to do that from the beginning, but it is just so hard for me to do. hopefully i did ok. it feels weird, embarassing to be so chatty. i keep feeling like some professor is going to jump out with a red pen any moment. how can i use "I" in writing? AAAH! heh. this is what 6 years of english major/grad student college life will do to you ;)

but i love to learn, to grow as a writer. i now can see how it wasn't the professors who kissed my academic writing ass the most who helped me grow (although their ass-kissing was great, and just what i needed to convince me i could be a sucessful writer/english major/grad student), but it was the profs like dr.flinn, who kicked my ass about my writing at first, then later praised it a lot after i'd grown a lot as a writer and learned what i could improve on. that's where i learned the most.

so i'm finished with the article! and i hope it's well-received, i'm always a bit paranoid about things like this. i'm learning, though.

( 4 tell me?)

2003-07-21 - 1:59 a.m.

y'know that part in the velvet underground's "new age" when all of a sudden he says "it's the beginning of a new age"? in that really important and deep voice.

that always gives me chills, brings tears to my eyes. always gives me hope. always. always. always.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-19 - 12:41 a.m.

outside the house all i could smell was cigarette smoke. it smells like excitement and desire to me. but i was curious, concerned, because i didn't see anyone around, and my neighborhood is set up so that anyone could potentially be watching me in the dark without me knowing.

so i scurried into my car and shut the garage door. like any girl who refuses to grow up, i love late night adventures, leaving the house at the time i'm usually in bed reading, travelling the streets with a mission, with a new perspective.

i am smelling things really intensely lately. without paxil, all of my senses are on overload. tonight, luckily, they decided to be nice to me and give me more pleasure than pain.

i drove the dark winding empty roads from my house to civilization, listening to the velvet underground's "candy says" over and over again because it was so right&vital right then. i stopped for gas and the beauty of the stark neon dark suburban street made me lose my breath for a moment. boys in a car honked at me. i brushed it off and felt righteous and purposeful. i got back into my car and heard the beginning notes of "after hours," the one song i have not made a fool of myself ever while singing at karaoke (the only song i can really sing, i suppose). i sang my heart out over and over again while i travelled that freeway.

my car is cumbersome but it's also freedom&potential. it's mine. cars passed me because i was going too slowly but that's ok, i had time. the airport was exciting like airports are at night, weird, a bit naughty like we're all 4 year olds who should be in bed but are instead scurrying around and being generally busy bees. it also feels like a tangible and real connection to the rest of the world, something rarely found here.

i got there too early. i parked and paid and walked and walked to the united terminal. i had forgotten that i was no longer allowed to go up and watch them exit the plane. i curled up into a weird metal phone booth and read harry potter. i got coffee and then moved up to a closer phone booth and read some more. the security man barked "waiting for united?" at me and i could only nod. he interrupted my treat, my idyll.

the group from salt lake city got off first. a girl who i assume was on a mormon mission or something arrived back to an overjoyed family, all carrying balloons and posters and the book of mormon. she seemed thrilled to see them. screams of joy ensued. i cried a little bit, wanting to be a part of that family for just a moment.

finally! the united flight arrived. they didn't get off of the plane for a while so i started to panic. i always think it's the worse. when i used to have to go pick up my ex-boyfriend, or my dutch roomate from wwu at sea-tac i'd always assume the plane had crashed until i saw them walking towards me.

my parents came out of the gate! yay! i heard larry's voice before i saw them. he said "it's miranda!" and i started to cry and ran and hugged them both. i was so happy to see them. i told them it had been 101 degrees out today. they grabbed their luggage quickly and we headed out to my car.

the drive home was magical, discussing paris and austria and travel and languages. all love and regret and desire and warmth.

back home now: i now have the most amazingly beautiful boots i've ever seen:

<3 (they are so amazing. only available in the uk apparently. so soft and nice)

and great french clothes and magazines and souveniers and my parents back. it's all lovely and good.

it's all lovely and good.

now i want to spend a summer in paris with mike, yes. i want to do it all.

i need to go curl up and listen to the velvet underground and drink tea and try to read french elle, that is the most important thing i can do right now. i'm fighting fear, dears, in case it isn't obvious.

love you.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-07-18 - 9:42 p.m.

listening to john doe's "closet of dreams" makes me remember things that never really happened, but that almost did or could have or should have or maybe i only dreamt them, who knows.

it makes me feel like i'm driving between portland and seattle, watching the moonlight play between the trees and holding hands and talking about theory and life and love and growing up and growing old and all that.

and the stars, i can't forget the stars.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-07-18 - 9:08 p.m.

and when we go baby, we go all night...

i'm becoming more organized, more together, without being compulsive about it. this i like. it is a ridiculously strange process to learn how to not be obssessive, how to act with a non-painful level of habit and enthusiasm. i am awed and ashamed of it all at once.

i talked to mike today and it was lovely. i am in achey love.

i had forgotten how engrossed i can get in the harry potter books. i'm smitten again.


ps and fyi:

(listening to the softies's "charms around your wrist," the velvet underground's "cool it down," and sleater-kinney's "big big lights")

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-17 - 11:00 p.m.

i cannot stop listening to leonard cohen and drinking iced tea.

it is hot.

i made a photos page tonight. i love it.

i have over 2,000 words for the article so far. i am nervous about doing my first cover story! eep.

you should read my cd review of the postal service in this week's inlander.

and oh yeah, (i'm your man.)

i'm on a streak. it's all gonna be ok.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-07-17 - 7:19 p.m.

i'm a bit of an agoraphobe today. i'm reading and doing laundry and taking care of the house and wishing i were in montana with mike. i'm full of regret and hope and tummyaches&potential. i need sheets on my bed and towels for the bathroom and my nailpolish is chipping off.

but that's ok. i'm making myself be alone with myself, and we're getting along just fine, thanks.

tomorrow my parents return and i will be ohsoglad to see them.

i have plans and visions for the future, all of which explicitly involve style or pizazz for style or pizazz's sake alone. and that's new and i love that.


( 2 tell me?)

2003-07-17 - 3:21 p.m.

please read jasmine's new zine. it's brilliant and inspiring and all-around lovely. as is jasmine.

that is all.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-16 - 11:56 a.m.

woke up with an intense headache. painpills&water&breathing&harry potter and i'm now doing better.

applying for jobs i probably won't get but applying is all i can do right now.

emotions are seeping up, emotions that i didn't even remember that i had. i am still a walking open wound. i've lost my skin and now have to create a new shell, something as tough as the old one but not nearly as numb.

it's still an everyday struggle to wake up, to not be overwhelmed, to go about my day without crying and curling up into a ball and dying.

but each day is better& i survive.

( 3 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 11:18 p.m.

i finished kay redfield jamison's an unquiet mindtoday. i adored it.

parts of it made me cry so much, because i could relate so much to what she had been through and had never really seen it written about so lucidly and honestly before. it was smart and educational and so important and vital. i'm really glad i read it. <3

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 11:13 p.m.

i always forget how much sleep i need. my doctor always says that sleep is absolutely crucial, that without it i will experience my illness much more fully and relentlessly.

it's nights like tonight when i sleep while someone sits near me and brings me things and loves me that renews my faith not only in sleep, but also in trust, in companionship, in the everyday, steady heartbeat of love.

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 11:10 p.m.

pictures from today:



( 1 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 5:40 p.m.

the heat makes me feel absolutely insane. being extremely emotionally intimate with someone does the same thing. i get all confused, loopy, lots of emotions milling around all at once, i feel like i've lost control of myself and that i cannot possibly be seen as anything other than a terribly moody and fickle child.

i feel this insanity coming and i cringe, knowing that it's always in the summer, it's always when i'm in love, and it's always long and hard with lots of tears and unsteady hands.

it will pass, but it's hard. it's hot and sticky and horrible.

( 1 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 12:19 p.m.

i was over-caffeinated with senses strangely dulled. i couldn't imagine anything beyond this afternoon, this languid yet overwhelming pace of cars and friends and hugs and eyes staring at each other from across the room.

i bounced and i noticed how each ray of sunshine played off of the plastic of the table in a slightly different way. i giggled and talked and was on and it was ok, it didn't hurt and i didn't crash afterwards. i was in love and full of promise and yes: i believed.

i came home to stomach aches & panic attacks, but that's no deterrant for what i had, what i'll hopefully soon have again.

( 2 tell me?)

2003-07-15 - 11:51 a.m.

i had a few adventures yesterday!


yep. :)

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-14 - 12:24 p.m.

the possibilities are painful but necessary. i have to break the mold a bit, i have to change.

thus, i'm here. i'll be here from now on.

( 4 tell me?)

2003-07-14 - 12:10 p.m.

i'll be here much more often from now on...

( 0 tell me?)

2003-07-12 - 11:55 p.m.

i still have that fantasy: that i will be like mary tyler moore, throw my hat up in the middle of the intersection, finally know that i've made it.

i push myself hard to be successful in so many areas of life. i was raised being told that i was incredibly talented and gifted and smart, that it was my responsibility to do good things with these gifts.

now i get so frequently frustrated with myself about not doing enough, about being 24 and not having a "real" career yet, about only having a MA already and not a PHd, about only having articles published already, not full length books. i get mad at myself because i feel that i'm slow in putting out my zines, feel that i am never as emotionally mature as i should be in my relationships.

i keep thinking that one of these days, everything will figure itself out. that i'll have that hat tossing moment. that an epiphany will occur, that everything will fall into place.

but i also know that it's just not true. i have to work hard to make every moment a hat-tossing moment, know that everyone's life path is different, and that i'm doing ok, that i have survived.

that's crucial to remember. to love myself for. to hold on to.

hold on, miss m., hold on

( 0 tell me?)

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