February 13, 2001
100th Episode Extravaganza!
Okay, gaudy, yes. I swear I'll only do this for special occasions. And this most certainly is one. After about five months "on the air", ~Snerkology~, with this entry, celebrates its 100th Episode!
(insert applause here)
With this entry I shall attempt to wine you. Dine you. Entertain you in such a way that you will stick around until the 200th Episode entry (which, by the way things are shaping up, should be sometime in July or August).
But I get ahead of myself, here. Shame on me.
Keeping a "live" journal certainly has been an interesting experience for me. I find myself automatically trying to look at my entries from several different angles - how will my family members feel when they read this? Have I crossed improper lines? How will I feel, myself, years from now re-reading this stuff? Am I being completely honest, or censoring myself so as not to offend anyone? And, most importantly, Will this get me fired?
This journal both an account of what happens to me from day to day, and also an account of what I think about from day to day. And so you get weird entries like my stream of consciousness kick, or my thoughts on my humanities class. And you get literal "what I did today" entries like Calvin's birthday and Kartchner Caverns. I've started looking at everything as potential material for an entry. Conversations. Observations. Vet appointments. Doctor's appointments. Naps. Memories. House cleaning.
The difference between my first entry and my most recent entry is marked. I love seeing how my writing has changed. Less stilted. More like a conversation. With grammatical errors fully intact, just the way I like 'em. I've endeavored to be absolutely honest, primarily with myself, but also with Calvin, and the kids, and my readers. Sometimes it's painful, sometimes it's embarrassing, sometimes it's boring. It is what it is. It is me.
It didn't start with this website, though. I've kept a journal in some form or another for my whole life. The notebooks with the early stuff (from 10 years old to about fifteen) are probably destroyed. They were packed with some other things left in storage at X(m)'s grandparents' house, and I hear he had some kind of bonfire after we broke up.
But I still have the notebooks from when I was about sixteen onward. And as I was going through them just now, I've noticed that my writing style really has pretty much remained constant throughout.
June 23, 1991
(About two months before my marriage to X(m), and only a week after my highschool graduation. I saw the signs of impending doom even then...)
Well, old journal, I've come to you once again to "write myself out". I have so many emotions and thoughts pent up inside of me that are all well and fine to write to X(m) about, but I know he doesn't understand. For all that he claims that he has no feelings, I must do my best to dig them out, for at least my own personal sanity, for I don't know if I can tolerate living with a person who has no feelings. However, "having no feelings" is somehow not the same as being "unfeeling". I'm *pretty* sure X(m) is not unfeeling, or at least not totally.
It is no good to try to sleep right now. I used to be perfectly willing to go to bed even when I was not sleepy and just let my thoughts wander. Usually they wander in X(m)'s direction, but right now, so close to the day, dreaming is not enough. For with the dreams come the nightmares; the terrible thoughts that somehow this dream will not come true. It hurts me too much to think about it.
For all that men profess not to be able to figure out female emotions, for all intents and purposes, speaking as a female, neither can I! For some reason I find myself wanting to cry when I should be my happiest. I can't understand it. Is it because of all the drastic changes that have come upon my life this past year? I have never been an emotional person; as a matter of fact, I really don't like emotional people! When did I become one? Oh, I know when, there's no use trying to fool myself. I became this way when I got involved with X(m). I think it may be the lingering thought that this is the first time and he is the only person I have ever wanted to give myself to, yet if things had happened the way X(m) had wanted, he would still be having a life with Jennifer. (Editor's note: Jennifer was X(m)'s girlfriend right before me.) I can't help wondering if he would have been happier with her. I make him feel "smothered", as he so eloquently put it. He always makes me feel as if I'm the down side, the negative influence in this relationship. Is it always me? Am I that bad of a person?
I sometimes wish I had a little more from X(m); more feeling, more romance. But I'm marrying him for him, and if he weren't these things he wouldn't be X(m), right? But would he be better? No use speculating those things. I just wish he would express his feelings to me more. I say things to him all the time, from my heart, and I usually get no reaction, or worse, a caveman grunt. How I hate it when he does that! But since he's accepting (apparently) my faults, I will accept the fact that he does not fulfill my every need.
July 19, 1991
(One day before my seventeenth birthday, about one month before my marriage to X(m). I was attending a convention for Jehovah's Witnesses at some arena in Rhode Island.)
Sometimes I wonder if the speakers actually believe in what they're preaching or if they are just saying what they've been told. Quite frequently it's obvious that they are tired of saying the same old thing year after year, assembly after assembly. I can almost guess what the speaker is going to say before he says it! We always have a lecture on how we should dress, behave, keep our children in check, keep our rooms neat, etc. Also, we have a talk (or several) on families - the position and duty of the father (husband), mother (wife), and of course, how we children should be in subjection - blah blah blah!
The only thing halfway entertaining this year is listening to Y and L gossiping about "prospective meat". The ride up was very enjoyable. I've forgotten how much fun I have with L and Y.
"Certain" people came up to me and say "Well! Since you've *finally* finished school, when are you going to start pioneering? For of course, *nothing* should be stopping you now!" Trying to make me feel guilty, and unfortunately sometimes it works.
November 17, 1996
(Skipping ahead some. X(m) and I had been in our house in Arizona for over two years.)
X(m) and I finally bought a table and chairs for the dining room, only after being in the house for two years!
X(m) has been hard to live with lately, because his work is stressing him out. When he works at home (which he can do now, working for Jeff), he insists on absolute quiet and no distractions! I am to leave him alone! He says programmers are like this, but I think he's playacting because of the novelty of the situation. Right now he works most of the time when he's at home. This weekend was not so great - the only time I really spent with him was the two hours it took to buy the table.
X(m) moved his computer back over to "his" room, so now I have my desk and bookshelf back. However, no chair - he took it.
I have been making a lot of Bruschetta lately, which X(m) loves. Part of the effort to find cheap, easy to prepare foods. Got to cut down on the $400/month grocery bill! I'm trying to make an effort to organize the finances so we can live off of my paycheck (per X(m)'s "suggestion").
January 21, 1997
(About two weeks after I left X(m) and was staying with friends)
Sooner or later I will have to make some hard and fast ultimatums. Life is stagnant right now; like I'm waiting but I don't know what for. I feel like I want to shelter myself - keep myself numb. But the reality comes back in the form of his family, who will not see that I wouldn't be doing something like this just for kicks - I have a good reason for being so drastic. But when I let myself FEEL what I'm doing, I feel like I'm going to scream and keep on screaming. This was supposed to be forever. I'm alone and 3000 miles away from home. Lord, I hope I'm doing the right thing.
January 20, 1998
(A little over a year after my breakup with X(m), and about two weeks before it became "final". I had debated on whether to stay and stick it out, or sell the house and move back home. I stayed (it wasn't hard to make it, since we'd been living off of my single paycheck for ages anyway), but it was a hard time and I was lonely. On this night I decided to go to the college district, Mill Avenue in Tempe, and wander around and write.)
I think I'll just stay here for the rest of the night. I'm in a nice little corner of the courtyard - under some trees, near the fountain, far away enough from the band that's performing so they're not annoying. What a nice night! Got my hot chocolate, got my journal, now all I need is love. I guess if I have to wait for my life to begin again, this is as good a place as any.
It is nice that I can sit here and not be bothered by anyone, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to. But not the folks that are wandering around here tonight. Nice Dr. Seuss hat, buddy. That piercing must have hurt. Interesting cross-section of people around here. You've got your preps, nerds, grunge, teeny-boppers, yuppies, a chick who just walked by with a four-foot Elmo doll, happy cute little couples, a guy sitting a few tables away that looks lonely too, jocks, sluts, gram and gramps over there looking really out of place (if there is such a thing here), is that a guy or a girl, wash your hair, buddy! "I shroomed my fuckin' mind out, dude, it was sooo much fun!" Don't trip over your skirt and chains, there, buddy. Hope those aren't your folks over there shaking their heads at you. "What are kids coming to these days, anyway?" There's an interesting contrast - a guy in a suit jacket and pair of jeans walking with a guy with long hair, a skirt, and chains hanging down to his knees. Yum yum, *she's* cute! My God, he's wearing nail polish. It is a he, isn't it?
Lord, I'm lonely.
Go away, you cutesy couple feeding each other whipped cream off your drinks. You're bothering me.
That guy has nicer hair than I do.
Oh, God, a cowboy and a really big cow... uh, girl. They're gonna get lynched in this particular crowd.
If those two don't stop kissing I'm going to pull their lips back over their heads.
I come here and I sit and I wonder what all these people's lives are like. But it's not as much fun when I don't know about my own life.
Wouldn't it suck if I ran into X(m) here!
Why is such a cute girl hanging out with freaks like that?!?
Regurgitated afterbirth of a lesbian troll. Now that's one worth writing down!
Jesus Christ, you guys! Get a fucking room!
Wish I could see more stars.
Good God, he's got his hand down her pants and his face in her lap. And she's licking his bald head! EEEEWWWWWW!!!!!
Mmm! Somebody's got a pipe!
I like this band!
Yeah, boy. Comic books! With slip covers, even. You're way kuh-ool, man!
There's only so much heavy duty (and I mean HEAVY DUTY) making out I can be witness to before I become homicidal. Somebody's getting some nookie tonight, and it ain't me.
It's almost 10:00. I may as well go home and start getting this weekend over with. WAAAAH! Just shoot me. Big whiney baby.
January 23, 1999
(Calvin and I had been together for about seven months, and we were a couple of weeks away from a ski vacation in Utah. Despite how this entry sounds, we don't live in a bad part of the valley.)
Today has been an absolutely surreal day. We woke up at about 10:30, and Calvin went out to get the paper. I heard him call to me "Laura, did you give anybody permission to leave a Dalmatian tied to the chair out front?" I had no clue what he was talking about. He said something about thinking the neighbors did it, then went out. And came back in. "Somebody parked in our driveway." We still assumed it was the neighbors, until Calvin went out to the driveway. He found a convertible Camaro backed into the driveway, the driver's door open and a man unconscious in the seat. He had half-chewed pills in his mouth and an empty pill bottle in his lap. We called 9-1-1 and the paramedics and the police came. Calvin had checked the man's breathing, and it was shallow, but by the time the police arrived he had stopped breathing. The officer pulled him out of the car, and the paramedics brought him back around. The man's dog was claimed by his roommate later on. What a strange, strange morning. Kind of a continuation of last weekend, when we had the tires slashed. Like Calvin was saying, why can't something weird in a good way happen, like winning the lottery?
We bought a new stereo system last night, and got more ski clothes and equipment for our Utah trip today. We are all in great need of a vacation!
That's what I like so much about keeping a journal. It's so interesting to see how my life can change from year to year. I just picked old written entries at random, and for the last three it was just a coincidence that they were all almost exactly a year apart.