Default

Anger is my default mode.

Lately when I've been frustrated or fearful about my applications or lonely and cold in the Los Angeles sun or when I see the ones I love so far away loving each other and I think of my impotence a fear, I just get angry.

I am so angry at myself for letting myself love when I said I wouldn't, for drinking with you till we couldn't talk and I crawled into your bed to not-talk again, for drinking alone till I couldn't walk or keep things straight in my head, for studying so hard I didn't find time to fit myself between the two of you, and for slacking off and ruining my chances to ever do it again.

I have been so angry in my sadness lately, and the self-loathing means I'm even more alone. When did this happen?

Straws

Lately, the only honest, non-stilted writing I do is when I am all-a-drink-a-roo. It is not good or safe or peaceful; it is rarely inspired. But this is something I scribbled last night, this is some piece of my soul as I grasp at familiar-but-fading straws:

The closest you'll have to something upon which to depend is the mist of your favorite perfume on your wrist. Perhaps then you won't feel so alone under the covers, resting your head against your arm (skinonskin) in the dark. When it fades too soon, you press the glass edge of the empty bottle to your veins, not even a drop left to spray, hoping to catch some scent upon your skin.

It's gone. All. Gone.

YOU ARE ALONE.

Ad-dick-shun

Things I've (Lately) Worried I'm Addicted To:
Work
Alcohol
Being Busy
Cheese
Feeling needed
Cocaine
Attention

Things That Make Me Think There are Other Things to Worry About:
Work
My dad coming into my room with produce in his hands asking, "Rina, can you tell me which of these is a pomegranate and which is a persimmon?"
My dad coming into my room fewer than five minutes later asking, "Rina, wait, I forgot, can you tell me again? Which of these is a pomegranate and which is a persimmon?"
Graduate school applications and all the strings attached, especially my referees. In this category, the health problems my referees have had; they put my "needs" in perspective
Sleep
So much art coming in at work; the whole lot of it makes me feel like a teeny, tiny cog in the whole operation.

In any case, I need to focus on:
Applications
Work
Sleep

I think this is what "Life" is supposed to be. I'm not looking forward to it.

Dear Jon Hamm, Please Come Back, Love Rina

I spent a few hours with sort-of-friends to-night and even carved my very first pumpkin ever, but now it's 1.30am and time to go to sleep and I'm painfully lonely. So lonely, in fact, that I hope a character from a dream I had last night comes back to my dreams to-night so I don't feel lonely anymore. I mean, this is a fictional character who appeared (as himself) IN A DREAM and I still want him to come back. To my DREAMS.

Fucked. Up.

And it's not that I'm alone all the time -- I'm never ALONE and I'm often with people I sort of like. But still: Don Draper playing Jon Hamm playing Don Draper loving me (dreams are complicated, duh), come back. Please.