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wBillieupool |
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Hi.
My name is Kate.
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wWednesday, December 12, 2001 |
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So it's goodbye for the holidays. Don't have internet access at home. I admire my parents for some of the ways in which they've refused to let technology be unabashedly infused in their lives, but I disagree whole-heartedly with their choice of keeping internet access out of house and home. Mostly for selfish, personal reasons I suppose. Anyway, I'll be back soon.
posted by
Kate at 12:53 AM
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wTuesday, December 11, 2001 |
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I decided about a month ago to grow my hair out. I had super super boy-cut short hair, and it's just now beginning to reach that awful fro-esque inbetween stage (welcome to the next 2-3 months of my life, sigh). Anyway, this morning when I got up I decided to forgo any last minute cramming for the sake of flipping this impossible hair of mine.
I look like Meg Ryan on crack.
Sigh.
posted by
Kate at 9:25 AM
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The midol's beginning to wear off and my easy mac's getting cold and my exams are still very unstudied for and I just wonder when I'll develop the propensity for caring because I don't right now and I haven't in a while and I know I'm not stupid and I know I can do it but it just doesn't seem very important and I let myself stay curled up in the womb of such an endless sea of ignorance and I'm happy as such except for brief moments when I realize the bulk of all that I don't know and should know or at least go about trying to know but I blame my (largely) useless memory and keep safe and warm in my crutch of a fetal position and I like it...sometimes.
I'm always tired.
That's no excuse.
I'm always struggling with apathy.
That's no excuse.
I'm always wishing to write more. I never do.
That's no excuse.
And when I'm surrounded I feel alienated and when I'm alone I feel even more alienated.
And I've never before been so dependent on the availability of other people.
And I've never before felt so surrendered to the unfortunate fate of the sexes - how I'm not sure I'll ever be in love because I think somewhere along the way I lost faith in the idea of it.
And I know I'm only 19 and I can't make such dire predictions without seeming ludicrously naive.
But I am ludicrously naive.
See, thing is I know I'm supposed to be something more than what my future seemingly holds. I'm more than a potential wife or mother or employee. And I've always known that somehow the natural laws of common man don't apply to me. I'm special. And it's sad to rely on such a sparse sense of faith. No, not even faith really - more like a gut feeling, a simple statement in the pit of my stomach that won't go away: You are important and one day your life will be almost a household item and people will respect that. Because I've always vied so desperately for respect and sometimes I don't even quite know that I do. And other times it's very aparent and I'm ashamed of that need.
I live so selfishly.
I always have.
I'm sorry.
But I won't change.
posted by
Kate at 1:50 AM
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wSaturday, December 08, 2001 |
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Watching Center Stage on illegal HBO. Had an estrogen moment and nearly choked because I wanted to cry but didn't. I spent 16 years dancing. Only 2 of those were spent as a half-heartedly serious attempt to actually learn something: my sister and took private point. The only valuable result is a picture my mother took of the both of us in costume putting on our shoes before a professional picture for the recital's program. It's a beautiful photograph, even more so because it captures Carrie and I as sisters, bonded through both blood and dance.
I still love to dance.
I never had the technique. Never. I could never really learn anything. I progressed as far as I could and then it was like hitting a brick wall, but I never faulted for heart. That was the blinding force that drove me. It was always easy - fooling people into thinking I was a good dancer. I worked so hard, made it mine, put everything I had into it. So I couldn't do the turn or I cheated on the wings or I dropped the baton...but I tried so hard that people forgot I wasn't perfect and they rooted for me and they enjoyed my performances and they were all sad when I grew out of it and had to move on because I couldn't, I can't, find a place for dance after high school. Just like I'm beginning to realize I don't have much of a place to play my clarinet anymore either. College is the beginning of compartilization, and I...I am not good enough at anything I do to compete with people who are focused. I am not focused.
And now I don't guess I'll ever really learn how to dance. And I'll never really be any better at my clarinet. And if I do draw or paint no one will ever really want to see the end result but myself. And writing?
Writing...these words are claw marks in the earth of who I'll never be. please, someone notice me. They are the most selfish of endeavors. And with every sentence they become less mine.
Tired because it's late. Drained because I've got 2 exams left and then a (probably) dull break for the holidays. Unsettled because there are facets of myself that are most unpleasant and I don't know if I should stifle that or let it flourish.
posted by
Kate at 2:32 AM
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wWednesday, December 05, 2001 |
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Finals tomorrow.
I'm going to two "formal" parties tonight.
That's fucked up.
posted by
Kate at 5:19 PM
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wTuesday, December 04, 2001 |
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I've been unable to emerge from under a thick sulphurous cloud of depression all day. I've been like this a lot lately. Only fighting against it because I can so acutely feel it this time. Feel it taking away my concern. Feel it robbing me of words. Feel it settling in like dust. Feel it taking the edge away like painkillers, like waking up from surgery. I feel sick and tired. It's going to be okay, though. I know how to go on anyway.
Walking to the library, suddenly I was very aware of the way the sun was setting just behind a building so that orange-gold light spilled over onto the trees, illuminating their scaly branches against a rosy backdrop of light - light painting the landscape until everything was movement in that it was so perfectly still and I thought maybe it was just a picture and not very real at all. I walked directly into it, hoping to see it better, to make it real, to be able to see the actual sky, the source of all this light...but when I did step into it I was only blinded. Beautiful things are always more beautiful if you're slightly removed. Getting too close is akin to being blinded or, even worse, seeing far too clearly the situation for what it really is. Lately I've been thinking of how much more I like people when I don't really know them very well.
Except for the few who have been worth it.
posted by
Kate at 4:40 PM
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