my star wars journals
6:00 p.m. - 12.29.02
i'm bored right now. i don't feel like doing anything except sit here in front of this screen - my security blanket. my paper journals used to be my blanket. well, they still are, i just find myself writing on here more than on paper lately. perhaps it also has something to do with only having one blank page left in my most recent journal. i better go and get another one.
i look at my past journals from time to time, especially the last three. the the first of the trilogy was from january 1999 to may 2000. i didn't write much in there until october '99. until then i was plugging along as one of the top sales execs at the second magazine i worked at. i really wasn't writing anything back then. i never felt that i had the time, energy or inspiration to write. i was too busy writing sales proposals, wearing pantyhose, and just trying to be 'normal.' anytime i did write somethingi got real down on myself that i had no talent whatsoever. i almost gave up on trying to be a writer. i was a sales whore, in my mind, trying desperately to fit into the corporate mode, wearing suits and drinking martinis and bland domestic bud lights in fancy-lit corporate-friendly watering-holes with co-workers i had nothing in common with.
the entries from october '99 to may '00 are scary. i was so sick. most entries or only a few words or few sentences - completley reflecting my thought process. i was so confused i could hardly even talk, much less write. i was with Chris, the guy who eventually raped me on january 24, 2000. after that happened i really started to fuck up at work. i lost a few lucrative clients, either because i would never make the meetings or i screwed up their order or their ad. i took a leave of absence for a month. i came back, all pumped with zoloft (they only thought i had depression, so the lone anti-depresant made me very manic). i immediately shot up to the top of the sales list again, but then got too exhausted and stressed to even complete the month. i made the sales, but got too manic and agitated to venture out in public to pick up art work for the ads. so i quit.
i got a new journal. i got a new apartment (on the other side of town, too many violations, drinking and no job left chris without a car - he was taking the bus over to my place and making harassing phone calls from the pay phone at the gas station next door). i got a new life, so i thought. the first entry was about just that. i wrote it as i was unpacking in my new place. i wrote that i had no idea what was to happen to me in my new life, but that i was ready for it, and ready for my rebirth.
i wasn't ready to hear about my dad after 20 years (6 or 8 years since i talked to him on the phone). i wasn't ready to hear about his suicide.
in this second journal of is the eulogy i wrote and read at my dad's service, where i saw my dad's side of the family after 20 years. my baby cousin wasn't a baby anymore, he was 20, and waiting by the front door of the funeral home with my aunt pam.
aunt pam bought me my third journal right before i went to greece in september 2001. that journal only has one page left now, it would have been filled a long time ago, but i found this site. i still wrote in it, up until a month or so ago.
i will get another one soon. i like looking at all three stacked together. i like having volumes in my life. i wonder what vol. 4 will be like.
in very wierd ways i feel like Luke Skywalker in the early Star Wars films. he had an intense feeling that his life had greater purpose, and there were so many questions about his father. when he discovered who his father was, and who he was, it almost killed him. he wanted the ugly answers and then he had to deal with them. i almost feel like my therapist is my Obi-Wan Kenobi, and my psychiatrist is my Yoda.
his anger almost turned him to the Dark Side. he almost became exactly who he didn't want to be - his father. man, i can relate to that. i spent a year of my life drunk and stoned out of my mind, angry that my dad was a drunk. i blamed him for everything, while i ignored my family and took them through hell.
i'd like to consider myself in jedi training now, although i still need help in figuring out how to turn on the damn light-saber.
what will this new year be like? will i find success? will i find love? will i loose weight? these entries and those pages will only tell.
my star wars journals - 12.29.02
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