Thursday, December 30, 2004

I have a lot to say. So much so that I couldn't even blog. Life is hard. I'm a little tipsy right now so bear with me. I just got home from seeing Ocean's 12 with Sandee.

So let's take a little personal inventory. I'm over-educated, under-employed, uninsured, in critical debt, fat, broke, depressed, and drunk. Yup, that's it. I think I got it all.

It's not the money. I'll figure out the debt and the rent and all of that stuff. As a matter of fact there's really nothing about any of the above that enough cash can't solve.

I'm fine with being alone. I don't need to be in a relationship and listen to a bunch of lies all day and night just because I can't stand to be alone. I understand all of that. I've worked through it and come out the other side. It's just that everything is different now and while that's inevitable and necessary it's a little unsettling.

Last year I met someone who I thought liked me. Not in that romance novel let me get you alone so I can unleash my loins into your golden palace way, but in a friendly slightly flirty way. I didn't see him again until eight months later when he showed up unexpectedly at a friend's party. We flirted again slightly and I forgot about him until I heard that he was in Thailand for the tsunami.

I asked the friend who introduced us if the guy was okay and I got such a weird response. Throughout the rest of the evening we argued like brother and sister. It was incredible. He'd said a few weeks ago that I needed to get back on my diet and that I should go blond again. Last night he said that I needed to get back into therapy toot sweet. He said his friend never liked me, and in fact thought I was crazy.

I am crazy. It's not like I've tried to be anything I wasn't. It's not like I was passing as some boring good girl who follows all the rules no questions asked. He told me that "everyone" thought I was nuts. He said that I put people off with my craziness.

Well, first of all, that's what a lot of people find endearing about me. Secondly, I'm not a creepy or dangerous crazy. I'm fun crazy. If I wasn't crazy we wouldn't have gotten into the movies today, Sandee and me. We got there totally late and were going to miss our time so I took our money and ran up to the front of the line and said to a girl "This is so sleazy, but we're totally late and if you wouldn't mind buying our tickets, we'll buy you a candy". She thought it was funny and we bought her a small popcorn. BFD.

Apparently it's behavior like this that my so-called friend objects to. He doesn't think it's okay to kidnap some poor sap's dog. He thinks I should get a straight job with an idiot for a boss and a time clock and health insurance and all that. Well, I don't know where this is all coming from. If he doesn't like me any more, so be it. I don't know very much about anything, but even I know it's no use to change for someone else. They'll be just as dissatisfied with what you become for them because it's really themselves with whom they are unhappy.

It just seems like it's coming from left field. It feels so all of a sudden. Why is he attacking me like this? I know I'm not at my most attractive. I know I'm in a really scarey place financially. I don't know where my life is going. I don't know what the fuck is going on or coming down the line for me. Jesus God, what does he want from me?

Is he afraid that his friend really does like me? Would that be so bad? Is he afraid that I will survive my crazy life? What would that mean to him? Would that mean that he would have to start taking chances? Would it mean that he would have to stop playing it so fucking safe all the time?

He said not to talk about astrology or phenomenology anymore. He said that it's weird for me to talk about psychics or tarot cards or archeology around other people. He said he couldn't help me. Well, who fucking asked him anyway?

My feelings are still hurt. Now I can't call him. I can't tell him about anything fun or interesting that I've seen or read. I'll just let him go. It really hurts, but what's the alternative? Become who he wants me to be so he can ride on my coattails? Fuck that. Fuck him.

I can't believe that I'm even saying this about him. I love him. He's always been there for me. Now I feel like I'm just going back and forth between doubt and anger.

Am I an asshole? Am I too loud, too quiet? Am I garish? Am I obnoxious? Am I crude and foul? Am I Mimi with a penchant for astrology? That's how he made me feel. He talked down to me about my weight, my clothes, my car, my hair, my singledom, my apartment, my mental health, my devotion to Rollins, my lack of household and home office technology, my lack of reliable income and health insurance, I mean it just went on and on and on and it really really hurt my feelings.

But then again, who the fuck is he to say this shit to me? I'm hanging on a thread here, so why is he throwing more crap on my back? I wouldn't do this to him. I wouldn't just lean over and whisper in his ear that he's too old, too drunk, and too fat. I wouldn't mention that guys his age shouldn't be working part-time at a park and still talking about the any day now big break in Hollywood. I could turn around and serve him the same, couldn't I? I could. I very well could, but I won't.

I'm too pissed to even talk to him again. Fuck him. I've got a secret weapon. I've got Henry Rollins. I've got the music and I've got the word. If no one likes me, fine so be it. If no one else wants to be near me because my life is out of control and it makes them afraid, so be it. I don't care. I don't give two black shits. If the stuff I say makes people nervous, well all right. Fuck them, too.

This is not the life I thought I chose. I wanted to see and do a lot more than this. I don't know about the real estate gig. I don't know about the next five minutes. I do know that I would have to be a special kind of stupid to just lay there and pretend I'm asleep while someone fucks me. No, I don't think so. Maybe I am an ugly old fat white bitch, but that's one more thing he'll have to worry about now. I withdraw my regard for him. Now, he'll be fucked. Now, he'll slip away or wither and fade. That's what happens when I withdraw my regard from someone.

Just ask my mom.


another mad ramble of The Shadow * 6:44 PM
____________________________

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

I stole Shug's laptop. He's so gadgetronic nowadays. We're waiting for Rachel's mom to come back with black socks for Sean. She left two hours ago for a tux shop. I saw Katrin in her dress. It's so not what she described. I thought it would be kind of slinky but it's more fairy. Except the sheer part in the back that shows off her tattoo.

The guys all look great. They're all wearing black suits with black t-shirts, too. Except that Ben was smart enough to make sure all the guys wore their black socks. Ben had the guys' shirts all made up to say sweet things. Ben's says Mazeltov and has the Hebrew symbols for good luck and long life. Shug's says double happiness in Chinese. Mr. Steve got Sean + Katrin on his. Rad sewed his own suit and his t-shirt is a Tommy Hilfiger, but he made them each put their handprint on with fabric paint. Drew put the celtic knot on his with their names inside and Gio's has some Greek Italian thing because it says Bravo and Amor Longa and their names. Jimmie's just has a big black heart.

This house is fabulous. A lot of people are already here and it's kind of bittersweet. One of the girls I used to work with at the hospital just told me that her mom died two days ago. She used to work with us, too. What a great lady. She had a heart attack. I'm going to her funeral tomorrow. Another girl who's here also told me that her mom died from a heart attack in June. It always comes in threes. Maybe my mom will be next. One must always look on the bright side, right?

I feel like a fat ugly pig. I feel like a failure. All my friends are here and they all look so great and everyone's so happy to see each other again, but I feel like I'm watching from behind glass and can only hear the muffled sounds. I feel once removed from everything like I'm floating just above.

Last night was amazing. We were all at Rhonda and Jimmie's and just lounging around. Enoch went bananas when he heard Ben's voice outside. He practically jumped through the window to get to him. It was like a slow motion reunion where the lovers spread their arms and run towards each other. We all teared up. Enoch jumped up and down and really gave it to Ben. "Don't you ever leave me again, you selfish bastard. I didn't know where you were, I had no idea when you would be back. I was worried sick! Well, yeah. I have been in the lap of luxury here with Rhonda and Jimmie, who've been so understanding and forgiving about their sofa and boxing gloves and softball glove and that nice ottoman Rhonda got from her mom, but that's beside the point. I am supposed to be your best friend and you fucking ditched me. Don't ever let it happen again." He said all that, but in more of a panicky barking way.

Brigid, Caitlin, Rachel, Sandee, Rhonda, Eng, Bibi, and I are all wearing white also. Do you know how hard it is to find a warm white outfit at this time of year? Rhonda bought mine. I look like Moby Dick. White is not Brigid's color, either. She let us all know what a sacrifice she's making for the bride. She really should just shut up because she looks great as always. Rachel has completely lost all her baby fat. She looks a little older and the stress shows a little around her edges.

Rachel's baby was born with T-21, more commonly known as Down's Syndrome. This is why she was crying all the time. This is why she split on us to come to her mother's. This is why she's been ignoring us this whole time. The baby is adorable. He's got that T-21 look, but quite honestly, if I had to choose a deformity for my child I'd choose T-21. Her baby seems perfectly fine. He's the happiest baby I've ever met. Sandee's girls have been playing with him like there's no tomorrow. Bibi's baby is the best ever. I adore her already. It would have been nice to hold her, but Ben's mom has a grip lock on her that's unbreakable. I pinched her toys and got my hand slapped. Sandee's girls are all wearing royal blue velvet dresses. Kamimilo can't stop spinning around. They each have this big important job of throwing something from their baskets.

The cake is beautiful and the catering is perfect. The front yard and back portico look like a fairy land. The whole beach area is full of Tiki torches. There's one huge circle in the middle, but those torches aren't lit yet. Mother Holly is out preparing the circle now. We're all supposed to be meditating or preparing ourselves for the sanctity of the blessing of the union. I'm so not feeling it.

I feel dead inside. I feel so far away from everything. I feel disconnected from this whole thing. Here are my friends whom I KNOW love me. I know they do. It's me that doesn't love me. It's me that can't stand to look in the mirror. I hate that I couldn't even buy my own dress for tonight. I hate that I've gained back all the weight I lost. I wanted to push Rad's hands away when he was altering my dress to fit. I had to buy a big fat cow dress and he had to tailor it down. I hate that I have no money and couldn't give Sean and Katrin the gift I wanted to give them. I had to just give them a photo I had of them taken from behind when Katrin was reading Sean's palm. My friend M blew it up and did some cool shit to it with Photoshop. It looks pretty cool. I went to my sister's and pinched one of the ten million frames she has and isn't using. She'll never miss it. I feel like an ass that I'm even blogging this.

I just wish I could go back. I wish I could jump into an alternate reality in which, in which what? In which I never left the hospital? In which Ben's parents never got in that accident? In which Shug had never been fired? I don't know. If I could go back, how far back would I go? Shouldn't I go back to 12/19/91 and have the police waiting at the house on Brooks Ave? Shouldn't I go back to the day my dad woke up and died? How about to that night I drove down that empty stretch of PCH and almost went right over the side and disappeared beneath the deep black water? How long should I go back to make things better?

I can only go forward and that's the bitch of it. I'm here now. I'm experiencing this moment now. I will never be able to repeat it. I don't want to defile the energy of the handfasting. I don't want to be the fat ugly lump of nothing in the corner seething with envy and loneliness and bitterness. I don't know what's going on with me.

Maybe I'm just jealous. It would be easy to hate Katrin. She's beautiful on the inside and the outside and she's happy. It would be easy to hate Sean, too. He's so fucking strong. He's such a good man and he'll be a perfect mate and a great dad.

I think I'm fucked up. I've always known it, but it's like a pernicious disorder. It's like a metastatic cancer. Being fucked up is hard because every time you think you're better it's the prelude to another discovery of just how fucked up you are.

I'm desperately unhappy. I'm totally insecure. I'm self-loathing and bored and frustrated and broke and unfocused and directionless. And for some odd reason I'm convinced that if my therapist read this she'd smile a knowing smile and wait for my call.

How could someone as astute as Mother Holly allow my shitty attitude to just run rampant like this?

And where the fuck is Rachel's mother already?


another mad ramble of The Shadow * 7:48 PM
____________________________

Monday, December 20, 2004

Our offices got broken into last night. Mercury is supposed to be out of retrograde today, so I guess last night was a last hurrah. I went to a friend's and made some cookies. We made Jack Skellington heads and her boyfriend came in and put red licorice for his arms and legs. We painted his face and he looks really good. We made five of them and five Sally heads and five Sandy Claws before we ran out of dough. They turned out pretty good. I didn't want Goth Boy to eat them all because I really wanted to save one of each for Ben.

Tonight we'll go back to Rhonda and Jimmie's to listen to Henry. I don't know if it'll be a repeat or not and I don't really care. What will happen to Harmony in my Head when Henry is on tour? I guess we'll find out. Tomorrow night is the Sean and Katrin's hand-fasting and then I go to Santa Cruz and then when I get back it's Drew and Binh's wedding on New Year's Eve. I have nothing to wear to either to any of it. I have nothing cool to wear to Malibu at night in December and I have nothing to wear in freezing cold Santa Cruz and I have nothing cute to wear to a formal winter wedding. Maybe I should just ditch it all.

I haven't seen the guys since they got back. I'm excited to see Bibi's baby. I need to talk to Eng and Bibi about selling their places. They both mentioned they were going to sell, but I don't think it's the right thing to do. I mean if they were selling to jump their equity into something bigger or better, that's one thing. But neither of them know where they're going to be in two or three years. They may need to come back to Long Beach and what then? It kills me, because I know I could sell both their places, but it doesn't make sense. They need to hold and rent right now until they need to buy whatever they're going to be in for a while. Bibi's tenant is an idiot, though. I'll evict that tenant for her. Brigid still has some of her stuff at Bibi's and the tenant is trying to say that no one can go in the garage when it was clearly stated in the rental agreement that Brigid is supposed to have free access. It was a moot point because Brigid just bitched the chick out and then waited for her to leave and then she went in there, anyway.

I feel weird. I feel like I'm floating on the surface of water.


another mad ramble of The Shadow * 8:13 AM
____________________________

Thursday, December 16, 2004

So I've decided to form an organization called Dumbasses Anonymous, for those of us who are struggling with our dumbassholity. My name is Carey and I'm a dumbass. Step One, I admit that I am powerless. Step Two, I admit my life is unmanageable...

No, but really. I'd like to meet a reformed dumbass. I'd like to hear the testimony of someone who is 100% smartass. Well, that would be my boyfriend, Henry Rollins. Is my higher power supposed to be Janeane Garofalo? I guess not. Maybe she could be my sponsor.

I opened an escrow today. Hooray me. If all goes according to my evil plan I will have $4500 before New Year's. If not, well we'll all just have to wait and see, won't we?

Life is so fucking hard. I'm not entirely sure if I'm into this real estate gig anymore. Most of my prospects I just want to slap, and I want to strangle all of my clients.

I must admit a new edition of Get In The Van will most definitely cheer me up. Plus, I've decided to self-publish some stuff. As soon as I get a dollar. It's so easy! Anyone can publish now with print on demand! Yes, but it's the age-old question of publishing: Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. But then again, why not me? Considering the fact that Jewell put out a book of "poetry" and that useless moron from Columbus, Ohio is published, why shouldn't I? Exactly my point.

I went out to the bookstore even though I have no dollars. I am traveling to Santa Cruz from teh 23rd through the 27th so I can pretend to be festive. I want to celebrate Soulstis with my sister and her girls. I will be picking up a laptop my brother-in-law has left laying around the house for almost a year. Goddamm ungrateful technogeek. If he abandons it for new technology he better not come crying to me when he can't find it.

Sorry about the blogs. I'll try to fix them tonight.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 9:07 PM
____________________________

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

I broke the blogs. Sorry, kids. I thought I was being brilliant by changing things around. I shouldn't try to fix what ain't broke, I guess. Now I have to manually log everyone's entries. I'm too tired to deal with it. I'll do it tomorrow. No, really. I will. I promise. And that's not a political promise, folks. That's a promise you can take to the bank.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 10:05 PM
____________________________

Sunday, December 05, 2004

I finally got out of bed ten minutes ago. I can't say why I picked the coldest winter we've had in years to get the heat turned off. Silly me. This house is freezing cold. I'm sick as a dog, but no money for doctors or medicine. I've been advised to go to the ED, but I've advised myself against it. I used to work there, remember?

I really don't like being broke. I don't know if I've ever actually been this fucking broke. It's kind of incredible. Anyway, I couldn't lay in bed playing Blackjack on my cell phone a minute longer, even if it is warmer in bed than anywhere else in this sad little house.

I need my listing to sell, sell, sell. I'm trying not to send a message of need out to the Universe, lest I get back ever more need. I have nothing really to say. I decided to get out of bed and blog, but really there was no need for me to get out of bed at all.

Miss Oprah is giving away life wishes. St Oprah the Dreamgiver. If I wrote to Oprah to ask her to make my dreams come true, what would I ask for?

Dearest Oprah,

Ever since I was a baby girl it has long been my wish to see my mother accidently set herself on fire and sreech in pain until she died. I would be so grateful to you if you could make this happen.

No. Probably not. Okay, how about this?

Dearest Oprah,

As a survivor of incest, I know this story will touch your heart as you have always touched mine. There is a monster in HB and his name is James Edward Cayetano Kile. It has always been my wish to see him beat to death with a bull whip and then paraded through the streets with his amputated penis in his mouth, just like they did to Mussolini. I know only you can make this happen. Please Oprah, make my dreams come true.

Maybe I should just straight out ask the bitch for money?

Dearest Oprah,

As an American woman of the new millennium, I religiously watch reality TV, night after night. My sole wish in life is to have a complete make-over. Not just physically, like on Extreme Make-over and The Swan, but financially, professionally, domestically, educationally, et al. It is my deepest desire to be someone completely new and unrecognizable. Please, Oprah, I don't just want a new lease on life, I want a completely new life altogether.

Oprah, only you can make this happen. Only with your money and influence can I have all the surgery, fitness training, wardrobe, and make-up to truly become someone new. Only with your money and influence can I have all my financial debts wiped away and start over with a new business of my own and capital to back it. Only with your money and influence can I have a big, fat obnoxious house with a full staff and expensive, pretentious, luxury cars in the garages. Only with your money and influence can I become who I think I'm supposed to be after watching all these shows that document how the rich and celebrity elite live lives of wanton expense and waste.

Please, Oprah. If you will make this happen for me I promise to be the crassest, most obnoxious American Bitch the world has ever seen. And I will always tell everyone I owe it all to Oprah.

I'll bet that one is the wish she would choose to make come true. No point in pleading the case of the WM3 to Ol' Oprah. She only wants to hear stories that will tug at your heart. Maybe we should send Ben's sister on the Oprah show and see if Oprah will give her a new house and a Chinese baby girl.

Actually, I think Sara is determined to adopt like 10 of those Chinese baby girls now. Good for her.

Okay, I'm going back to bed to try and get warm again.



another mad ramble of The Shadow * 1:56 PM
____________________________

Thursday, December 02, 2004

My client blew me off this morning. My appointment, I should say. He didn't show. I should have known. Fucking investors. He claims he has 250K he has to dump before the end of January and he's approved for 1 Mil. Okay, cool. Get your ass in here so we can talk about this. I got up at the crack of dawn and tried to make myself look professionally cute. I got in the office before anyone else and looked for some property for him. I found some really good stuff, too. Fucking idiot. All these jacks who tell me to call them with a really good deal can kiss my fat Irish ass on their way to hell.

I wish I did have a real buyer. There's some really good stuff out there and now would be the time to get it going before Mr. Greenspan raises the interest rates mid month. And yes, he's going to raise them. Then again after the New Year. The go-go days are over in SoCal for now. Get over it. You missed the boat. You're standing on the docks with your luggage looking like an ass because you didn't want to listen to your realtor. Oh, and you know that property you pulled out of escrow on because you were convinced it wouldn't appraise? Yeah, it just appraised and sold for 123K more than you were in escrow for, dumbass.

I should fax that info to that asshole who pulled out on me. Yeah, I think I'm gonna go do that right now.




another mad ramble of The Shadow * 9:48 AM
____________________________