I made her have a party. My friend brandy. i'm doing the best I can in my state. Eliz made that last margeritra way too strong and then a Tecate and I'm done. It's good I'm safe in bed. How odd. Who would have thought? But the trees with their tree library books and the blurred keyboard... good night. Somebody should ask me about tree books because that's not a drunk thought, it's a dream there. Tequila.

Every month when I get my period I am so thrilled I just want to call up my boyfriend immediately "Baby honey sweetie! I got it! My period!" Because to me that means that I'm not pregnant this month and that is awesome, plus, the nasty cramps are going to go away. But his natural response is "Oh. So we can't have sex for a week." So it's always a let down and it means that I don't call him and say "All right! Period! Score!" and I always wish I could.
Today, as well as being awesome getting-my-period day was laundry day, also known as shit, I forgot and washed all my bras so I have to go all hippie for a day- day. It sucks, ok? I know Andee was going on about the freedom and whatever, no. Not at all true. Not when you're a god damned D. Then it is nasty and uncomfortable and sweaty and kinda hurts after a while. A bra was mostly dry by about 8 tonight and I put it on. It was amazing. Fabulous. Never before appreciated that piece of clothing like I did today.
It was a very long lazy day today, and I really needed one. Friday night I attended a little all night get together with Ginger and Andrew (also known as boyfriend. Not that he's my boyfriend. He's just a boyfriend. Leah's specifically. But actually they broke up which is part of the reason we could have used another bottle of gin)and Henry, of course (actual boyfriend). It was a lot of fun. Ginger and I had a long talk. I don't remember what about. I also met Henry's sister Sabrina again. Our first meeting was not so good. It is better that she does not remember it.
So after that very late night and kinda tough morning (I am pretty good at treating my body right when I drink so I barely felt that but with cramps too, it was a little tough) I needed an early night last night, and my body didn't complain that the most strenuous thing that I did today was grocery shop and buy a shirt for easter.
I wish Henry would get back in town. It's been a day. I'm lonely already. Geesh.

I miss you.

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in. I'm building a wall without any windows. It is not enough to talk. One must also think. Every day about every thing. This is a solid wall. I'd better make a duplicate me. One for each side so our brains don't get crowded with friolous nonsense we want to share with each other and with our distinctly separate walls. No rain. No light. No nothing. No dice. Maybe one day I'll make that wall come crashing down, like Berlin or London Bridge, and I must fall with it, crumbling collapse. My mouth is big and wide and my brain is brimming with things. Thoughts ideas information. I must put a floodgate on my big wide mouth and on my telephone. I'm sorry that I will not take your calls between 4 and 4:30. I was indisposed on, well. I guess I can't tell you that I was on the other side of the wall. The wall I've built today for my own insanity. My own falling and breaking. Never to be put back together again wall. This is all about me! It does not have to do with you anymore! An ultimatum is the ultimate. No ultimatums made today for the love of god. If they come hurling at me. ME OR HIM! I'll have a barricade to hide behind now, you lovely solid thing. Brick and flat and red. I'll keep filing cabinets on the sides, you can rifle through if you like, it's all for you to see. I want you, I want all of you. I want to know you inside and out I want to feel you hold you be with you. Please, be my guest. Here I am with a clean shirt on and you're looking at each other. I wish I could give you both all of me, I would, sadly I can not be duplicated. I ca only be split. I guess I will not duplicate for the wall-sides, merely separate like an amoeba. Leaving me rather broken, perhaps, but you are both whole. Both broken, both whole.

I keep torturing myself by reading Andee's journal. I start because I need something to read and think that maybe she'll say something of value. She never does though. I think it's time to take a few minutes to grow up yourself before reaming everyone else in the self-righteous way you tend to. I can't wait to grow up a little so I can have valid objective opinions and my friends can too.

Next year is going to be a very busy time for me, and I wonder how long it will take for me to burn out. Its basically the same as last year; two classes, internship, job. But now instead of working 4 hours a week I'm working 25. At least I don't have nearly as much friend bullshit to worry about.

I'm reading Siddhartha right now, and it's wonderful. One man's journey to religious discovery in himself. I like the description of the "child people" who live life in the cities, making money, having feuds. Siddhartha looks down on them as "children" and sees himself as transcended above the allure of all that, gradually getting sucked into their life. It shows more than anything else I've ever read the fact that awakening is something that requires only the right mindset and that it can only be achieved from within.

Some days I walk outside and smell the Autumn leaves and listen to them underfoot and look at the colors of nature and of passing cars and sidewalk trash and I am perfectly contented. I feel at peace with the world. That's what I call contentedness. I like that feeling and I try to cultivate it and hold on to it. When Siddhartha sits by the river I imagine he feels a little like that. But it doesn't worry me constantly or really at all.I only remember that feeling when it's likely to happen. When I want to be angry and sullen and closed-in, I have no worries about peace of mind.

I would like to achieve nirvana on earth before I die. Once I've lived my life I would like to go some place quiet and hear the Zen masters speak and meditate and see if I can't do it. If I find myself unable I won't be sad, but if I can it would be like transcending the living world, something akin to an afterlife. I would like an afterlife on earth because when I die, I'm pretty sure that's it, I, as a thinking entity. I as more than the sum of my parts, am gone.

I was really happy today when I looked in the mirror. I was really pretty. My hair was falling in pretty curls and my face was all Russian and glowing. I looked a little like Natasha. It was brilliant. I wish I could stay that way all the time, it happens every few years, a moment when I look in the mirror and decide I'm absolutely beautiful. I feel terribly vain, but I'll stave it off, I just want to revel in the feeling.

When I was deep dark into my eating disorder. Wait. No, back up. I need to talk about that. Eating disorder. I was never thin. Never will be thin. I will always be fat and ungraceful, but that's the eating disorder, which is raring it's ugly head, what I mean to say is; I was not anorexic. I was never that thin. I looked basically exactly like I do now, about 10 lbs. lighter, extremely hyperactive, hyperthoughtful (thinking, not caring) and prone to eating half a starburst because I really wanted one and that was all the calories I could afford. Starburst have fat. Did you know that? Tyler does, I'm sure. An egg white has 30 calories. Some people will tell you that an apple has negative calories because you use up more eating it than it has. This is not true. It has 50.

So, I looked like I do now and people wonder, I'm sure, why I worry myself about it. Because it's mental guys. All those bulimics out there, you don't know where they are, who they are except for the bruising o their knuckles and their bloodshot eyes because they never lose any weight. Binging and purging. Kind of like me. I tried it once. Managed it. Didn't like it though. Not at all. That was enough. I just purged by eating 300 calories a day. It worked too. Those 10 lbs? I lost those i the first week, then my body started worrying and wouldn't allow for it anymore. A shame. So nobody could really tell unless they saw me eat or I talked about it. I talk about everything. My deepest darkest most embarrassing secrets are the things that I am most likely to talk about because I feel dishonest not doing so. At least I think that's why.

Those moments of clarity, less striking than actually thinking I was beautiful, happened more often then. Maybe because they could.I had one when I realized that I was thinner than a girl in my physics class. I was sure that I was by far the fattest girl in the room. She weighed about 250 lbs. I was euphoric for about a minute. Another time when I realized that my thighs were not three times, or at least twice the size of everyone in History class.

The most striking time, the one that hit the hardest was in PE when I was hanging out with Diana and Natalia, my two PE friends and we had our legs all tangled up. I looked at Diana's legs and admired their beautiful shape and how toned and tanned and shapely they were. I moved my feet and realized that I had been looking at my own legs the whole time.

I'm better now, I'm still not happy with myself, but I'm much better. Slight relapse and it's not over yet but I doubt it will go back to that, mainly because my eating disorder, like most people's, is a control issue. When I have no control over my life and I feel overwhelmed, I turn on myself, on my weight and I try to control that. I control the amount of food I can eat because I can, even if I can't control anything else.

It was really nice feeling beautiful today. I will war my hair like this for weeks now hoping to recapture it. Never have in the past, though I've tried this tactic before. It never hurts to try again.

I fasted for the first time in my life for a whole day last Monday. It was such a wonderful feeling.

Philosophy is something that a person can talk abut, can really sink their teeth into. Philosophy doesn't require personal context or gossip or mutual acquaintances. It requires study and that's what I can do. I hang on to the idea that if I get into Berkeley and go I can talk about Socrates and Mark Twain and Siddhartha and Tolstoy while on mushrooms in a dorm room, I would love that. Substance abuse intrigues me because it might let me let down my guard, it might let me dance and laugh about things that I think are funny regardless of whether they might offend. I never really laugh at racist jokes, I'll chuckle to make people feel less uncomfortable but even if they're funny, I can't do it. Less uncomfortable, that's what I strive for and it makes me sad. I guess that's why I'm so vapid all the time in public, because at least then people feel like they can respond to me. I'm sick of it,, I'm sick of people thinking that that's me. It's so rare that I think about clothes or sex or even the way I look, hard as that is to believe. In fact, I just got kicked off the computer and went out to lie on the grass and think about who I am.

I didn't manage it though, I just started thinking about reality and if we can ever know, I decided that we couldn't. What is here is real, I am sure of that, I because I think therefore I am and I know that I am not the only person, I am not important enough for that. People have ideas greater and broader than my own which exist independent of me, therefore I am real and the world is real and everything. Is real. But is that all that's real? Why do we turn around when someone looks at us? But moving beyond the supernatural here, is there anything else? Are there other dimensions, I guess, where the patterns of the strings conform to the other mathematical possibilities? There isn't going to be a big crack or schism, no one is going to come back and tell us what's happening from some great annihilation of the future like the Flaming Lips say. We'll never know. Not now, not ever, not after death or after nirvana, we'll always know exactly what we know now. Maybe more, much more, but never "reality." If there are other dimensions with sapient beings or other planets or subatomic organisms which have more to do with their supposed unpredictability than we suspect, they don't know either.

If there were a god pulling the strings, reincarnating the Hindus. Putting the Jehovah's Witnesses in the Eternal Paradise mail slot, is that it, or are there other gods with other puppet boxes. Did humans roll 20's?

I have no one to talk with and I don't know how to start these conversations. Henry and I can talk about religion a little, but I'm always very careful and try not to offend, again that comes up. Never offend, but I offend all the time. I wish I could break his shell, ask him, what do you think of reality and have him tell me. Lie down on the floor, look at the ceiling and tell me what he really truly thinks. He talks about his day, his crappy job, his childhood. I love it. I wish I could do the same but it all comes back to Andee and elementary school and finally Chris, who I talk about ore than I should and talk with less than I should. He needs me, he says it as he cries on my shoulder. I don't need him.

"I don't love anyone... Not even my sister." Belle and Sebastian must be very lonely. I keep wanting to tell Henry I love him because it seems like the thing that you do when you're in a relationship but I don't, I don't want to make this that. I like spending time with him and talking with him and hearing him talk and getting to know him mainly because he doesn't have the opinion that I am "Tracy" and that that's all there is. When you know a person you can call them a "their name" and you know what it means. It means all their bad qualities lumped into a feeling. It means the times you've spent together. It means your colored glasses that you put on to taint everything they say and do and make it fit the preestablished "name" mold. I don't have a name with him yet, I can build a new one. He's the first friend I've made for three years. He's the first friend in almost a decade that I've made without Andee being there to tell them who I am. I offered to bring her in. I verbally offered, on our second date. What a terrible thought to think that she knows me better than I know myself because I don't know myself enough to even let it show through the cracks except in secret journals and in decisions on where to go to college that no one understands.

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