Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 47 The last time I tried to stop updating, I didn�t do a very good job. I ended up going back after a week out of pride. This time, maybe it�s different... I�ve lived so many lives. I�ve done so many things and been so many people. This diary has been a chronicle, albeit a random one, of my last year, of really finding myself. I know, I know... it�s so cliche. How else do you become your own best friend other than to talk to her? To spend hours and hours getting to know her, drinking a cup of coffee and sharing a cigarette with her.. I wouldn�t trade anything I�ve written here. I regret nothing, as everything leads to today, and in the words of Mary J Blige, Today is a beautiful day. I am unfulfilled by my current lot in life. I look for ways to escape, ways to get a better angle. I�ve looked at it from ways no other person can, or will. When you record close to your every action and thought, you can get a much greater perspective. I want to do something great. Something huge. I want people to remember me forever. There is a man in Oakland that will think of me every time he smells a clove. There is a man in Colorado who will think of me every time he sees a green Ford Festiva. There is a woman in Virginia who will think of me every time she sees a lizard, or reads her horoscope. I would like to think there is a man in the same place who thinks of me when he takes the time to notice the trees in May. I would like to think there is a woman in Kansas who will think of me when she sees great art (soon). There are people in Montana who will think of me every time they laugh so hard they cry. There is a DJ who will think of me every time he plays Pussy Control. There is a man in San Francisco who will never believe I�m not from NYC. And I�m sure I�ve forgotten many someones. Carry me for a little while There will always be a me, somewhere. There will always be someone who has done all the crazy shit you wish you had done. There will always be a sarcastic bitch in your office, and she will always be me. I tried to explain this once to someone at my old job. I don�t think she really got it. Someone has to talk you up when you�re down. Someone has to tell you it was okay, to do what you did. Someone has to call you with a crazy voice, or yell at you, hands flying. Someone, somewhere, has to say �fuck� as many times as I do. I was derailed. I�ve been someone�s wife. I�ve stayed home to make bread. I�ve lived through college years, smoking pot, playing video games, thinking �Yeah. I can do this forever.� I�ve had a career. I�ve been a big cheese. I�ve done what I�ve always wanted to do. I tried. I�ve sat next to the Vice President and had her turn to me... �Carie, what do you think we can do about this?� I�ve chopped a cord of wood on my own. I�ve cleaned up people�s vomit for money. I�ve had purple hair, red hair, bald. I�ve been to clubs, watched key DJ�s spin. I�ve been lost in my own music, watching homeless people beg for money. I�ve been someone�s secrets. I�ve been scared out of my mind high. I�ve been passed out on the sidewalk drunk. I�ve been out of my body. I�ve seen God. I�ve seen Jesus riding his bike. I�ve been so drunk on life, I wanted to die. Right. There. I think I�ve said this before... I live for those moments. That�s why I�m still here. Waiting for my next life to sweep me away. Or, waiting for the right time to make my next life. Who knows? Maybe this is it. Here. So. I have to sit and wonder. What about you? If you want to know what�s going on, wait a week. I�ll probably be back. But, then again, I�ve been doing what I�ve intended. So, scratch that. Just re-read everything. 9:36 p.m. - 2002-07-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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