inside the wonderful world of vee

i’m listening to… … fly to the sky, boa, drive like jehu.
i’m feeling… meh…

1:35 am — up and down up and down.

i feel like shit. like shit’s shit. like recycled, unattractive, undesireable, unwanted shit. i’m tired of giving. when will it be time to get an equal amount back? it’s not like i’m asking for a whole fucking lot. just more consideration once in a while. just to not feel like a chore. just to feel wanted and beautiful just for a few minutes at a time. for the first time in my life, i feel like i can give and put my own feelings at a halt to see someone else satisfied. i can drop my apathetic nature with regards to human beings and actually give more of a fuck than i have ever. but with that comes my own dissatisfaction… from being with someone who is more apathetic than i am. who doesn’t even try to make me happy, even when i hint at how simple it could be. “think of something to do,” i’ll say, “you better,” and even so, my attempts are fruitless. “it’s our anniversary in 10 days,” i’ll say, and he’ll say, “yay,” but not remember fuckshit when it comes down to it. and i don’t care… guys are known for not remembering that kind of crap. but then he has the audacity to say, “what month is it?” and then… “what, couples celebrate their third month?” when we have celebrated none. not only do you not remember, but you don’t even care. and you don’t even care that i care when i clearly do, seeing as how i brought it up three fucking times… at least.

and it’s possible to think that i’m asking too much, but i don’t think a little consideration is a lot to ask for. to hear for once, “oh, let’s do this,” instead of my having to come up with shit to do all the time or instead of my saying, “hey, we should hang out, all the time. and in all of my years, i have NEVER tried to come up with shit to do. because i don’t give a fuck. and i never have. but in this situation, i have, and i do, because it’s necessary. i do a lot of shit that isn’t necessary and it doesn’t matter because i’m happy to make the sacrifices really. but i’d just like to be asked sometime instead of being the asker. i’d like to be a desireable object to speak to instead of just some object. it’s always nice to have your actions and thoughts reciprocated, but they’re not, and i’ve been trying really hard… but it doesn’t even matter. cause there is no consideration beyond a couple of hours, and all there is cluelessness and apathy and a lack of desire to do anything more. i don’t care about driving half an hour, an hour, so long as i’m asked to be there. i don’t care about sitting home and doing nothing except for watching a movie so long as i’m asked to be there. it doesn’t even matter. i’m sick of extending into nothing. i’m sick of giving 249289328932913123 and getting 2.

i think all of my life encompassed at this moment is leading to my nerves being shot, my muscles cramped all the time, my body feeling like shit. everything is giving me stress. everything is me giving 2323% and getting a small fraction in return. with the magazine, with my relationship. it’s all, whatevers, and due to my i-don’t-give-a-fuck nature, i’m letting a lot of shit slide that tons of people would never let slide. and in the end all i can see is that i’m really fucking tired and i just want reciprocacy.

i’m listening to… … the cardigans.
i’m feeling… meh…

2:51 am — smeh just tried going to sleep but i don’t want to… too unhappy to sleep, if that makes sense. i’m so tired… just want to sleep forever. i feel so defeated. i hate a lack of conclusion to things. i can’t stand it. and i can’t stand that i am up to my neck in medical bills and i don’t know shit about my body. how i feel like fuck and i don’t know how to fix it and i don’t want to spend thousands more dollars finding out there’s nothing and not being sure if it’s all mental or if i’m just crazy or what… but no conclusion makes for unhappiness and i don’t know what to do until i fix it. i feel like doing nothing. i feel so godamn defeated. i want to do nothing. i can say nothing else to describe my feelings except that i want to do nothing. i’d say fuck the magazine, i give up, but my rational mind won’t allow it. but it sounds oh so fucking tempting. i’d rather not sleep cause i’d rather not cry. i’d rather be awake so i can go blind, staring at this computer monitor without the lights on. i just want to feel better. i just want to feel okay or to know what the fuck is wrong with me. why my ear has some weird growth that hurts. why my eye gets fucked up after a day of not taking vitamins, and why it still sometimes is annoying even when i do. what the fuck. health really is everything. if you feel like shit all the time, you can do nothing. you want to do nothing… it sounds so easy to not try at all. to just take things as they are given… to just find a 9 to 5 job… fuck passion, fuck whatever, i only care about money. i am a tool for the capitalist pigs. it would be so fucking easy. why is it so hard to be satisfied? it’s shitty because some people really are born with an innate ability to be unhappy. and some are just generally peachy. i’m just scared to end up dead one day having done nothing and having felt nothing and having known nothing.

writing is the only thing that keeps me sane…

this is not to say i’m high and mighty at all, but i think i care too much that i say the right things and do the right things for people. not in the kiss-ass type of way, but in the, “i’ll-do-this-even-if-i-don’t-want-to-because-it’s-the-nice-thing-to-do,” or the, “i’ll-cut-you-slack-because-it’s-the-nice-thing-to-do,” or whatever… i’m so tired. i’ve always been able to not give a fuck about what people thought or whatever, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. i think i’ve become a lot more conscious of shitty things i say, so i try to stop them, therefore when people do the same shitty things, it makes me feel ultra bad. or when i fuck up and do something shitty, it makes me feel horrendous. like for example, this morning my mom went to the store and asked me if i wanted to go but i was half-asleep because it was like 6 in the morning… but then i was thinking, i shoulda gone with her cause shopping by yourself sucks, and so i stayed up for like an hour thinking that and feeling overly bad over something i couldn’t change. i think stress is killing me… stress that’s made by myself from my new inclination to being overly sensitive. fuck that. give me back my old self…

for 27 years i’ve been trying to believe and confide in,
different people i’ve found.
some of them got closer then others;
some wouldn’t even bother,
and then you came around
i didn’t really know what to call you;
you didn’t know me at all,
but i was happy to explain.
i never really knew how to move you,
so i tried to intrude through
the little holes in your veins…
and i saw you…
but that’s not an invitation;
that’s all i get.
if this is communication,
i disconnect.
i’ve seen you, i know you,
but i don’t know
how to connect….
so i disconnect.
* THE CARDIGANS - COMMUNICATION *

i’m listening to… … and you will know us by the trail of the dead, the blood brothers (no, they do not sound like the fall of troy at all, despite maybe the voice).
i’m feeling… neither here or there, really!

12:51 am — so i like never write in this journal anymore… the reason i thought was because life is soo boring. it might be more boring compared to before… maybe. but it’s not bad. it’s just not as dynamic. before i did all sorts of random stuff… and people would do them, more or less… that, or, if they didn’t, i wouldn’t care and i’d just go and do my own thing. i guess things have changed. and i guess now if people aren’t willing to do things with me, i’d much rather just not do it at all. i guess i’m jaded. why, i’m not entirely sure, because it’s not like i have done everything in the world. in addition to that, though, there is just so much shit to do when i’m in washington regarding redefine — it’s like a constant work that needs to be done, and setting my own schedule is great, sometimes, but i’m losing the willpower. i used to have a lot. but i guess too much lack of a schedule is making things kind of hard. during freshman year i’d get up at like 8 in the morning before class to finish all of my homework. now i can’t even get up if i have planned everything in advance. JAAAADED.

i guess a lot of it is being disappointed by a lot of people. starting a magazine isn’t easy at all, and while there have been a lot lot LOT of people who have helped — some of which were unexpected — there are also a lot who have been quite the opposite… a lot who you’d think would be able to help you the most but in fact let you down the most. it’s not a recent thing, and it has been that way since the inception, and needless to say, it’s disappointing. and it makes you wonder if those people really do give a rat’s ass about you. see, the way i see it is, if a friend of yours has the vision to pursue anything that is passion-based… be it being in a band, or being a dj, or starting a company, as a friend, it’s your duty to give them some kind of support. by telling people, or by attending a show, or whatever the fuck. i am cheap with money, but i wouldn’t NOT go to see a friend’s show just because i’m cheap. if informed about the event, i’d do my best to go and show up to give the support, simply because it’s not easy following any kind of dream, and people need any kind of help they can get. i’ve gone to a handful of shows and done shit i can for friends in bands. i mean, it’s not a helluva lot, but the support is there and shit. and it doesn’t matter if it’s a super good friend — it’s a respect that they are actually trying to do something. and when people don’t reciprocate that kind of thing for something you are trying so fucking hard to do, it’s — needless to say — extremely disheartening. and it makes you think these people must not care that much about you… so why should you care so much about them? and so it comes, the disassembly and disintegration of things… and the not really giving a fuck. i know once upon a time i was a huge flake, and that sucked too… it’s not exactly the same thing, but it’s similar, in a way.

anyway, i’m back at home in california. nothing much to do here, but this is a relatively good break, i think. i have a lot of work to do (although i have spent a large amount of time playing “diablo2″, roflskates). since i’ve decided to play d2, a buttload of poeple have also joined in, although i haven’t really played with any of them except for alex and lenny. what sucks thouhg, is that i left my glasses in washington cause ithought i had a pair here, but i cannot locate them, and staring at the computer for a long time is, essentially, death. but whatevers!!!

we’re having a potluck on friday and i’m going to sherry’s tomorrow for a potluck. wahOo. going back on sunday. going to try and meet up with liz and andy [crossett] on saturday. we’ll see how that goes. maybe meet up with one of my writers in SF as well. we’ll see, though. but the food is good. and this is probably the most people who have been back to cali for break in a long time. so that’s cool. i don’t have too much to say. the last month has consisted of… going to a circa survive show with ben [garrison], attending macguyver marathons @ cynthia’s because she borrowed the whole first season from her friend, went to a spacecraft launch event of their new officespace (lot of pretentious artsy hipster people and snowboarders and stuff, and basically i went with andy and john [gillanders] and none of us knew anyone so we really just did nothing but steal food and shit), playing a lot of diablo2, watching a lot more tv than i’d like, staying up late, waking up late, procrastinating, being frustrated with cd printers who were a week and a half late and therefore delayed the putting out of redefine, crying, attempting to help out in an elementary school classroom (the kids are so fucking cute, but i don’t think i’m really that useful… but i feel bad just kind of leaving after one time and not really saying shit… but the teacher sucks, and … other things…), being emo, getting some part-time contract job doing tech writing transcriptions, spending hours inside of costco like it’s a museum, reading (read “a million little pieces” by james fey, which is a book about a drug addict’s trip through rehab, and i think everyone should read it, “extreme encounters (which is a book on what it’s like to go through different things, like be shot, get stuck in quicksand, get bitten by fire ants, etc… awesome idea but poorly written and could’ve been a helluva lot better), and now i’m reading a book on exorcisms in america (so far its just said how exorcisms are a lot more prevalent than the catholic church knew, and that the whole exorcism craze blew up after hollywood showcased it with “the exorcist”… a sociological book that is not bad at all, especially considering i bought it for $1.99!), playing a lot of “katamari damacy 2″ and some other random crap. but that essentially sums it all up, i think. life is slow now, and it’s relaxing in some ways, but extremely unproductive as well. i function better and stress myself out less when things are fast and regimented, i think. kind of why i wanted to go back to school sometimes, but now that i’m graduated, the motivation is not there. i’m not sure what i’m doing here, but i probably do need to fix… something.

(arlen’s response:)
Howdy do Vee- You know people really genuinely care about you and your endeavor. I think it’s a bit extremist and unreasonable to presumptuously assume people don’t care about you just because they don’t make a contribution to your mag in the way you foresaw it. That really bothers me, but not because you’re being judgemental. You’re being so damn hard on yourself! STFU NOOB. I’d donate $100 to your mag if I had it, but certain things don’t allow me to do so (e.g., debt, it’s not easy living without asking your parents for money). It doesn’t mean people don’t care about you god damnit! People are just the fucking product of their circumstance; if I was a spoiled rich valley girl who didn’t give a fuck about your mag, I could easily donate $1000 to amuse myself as I laid in my lawn chair getting fed grapes by a few male strippers. All I’m saying is that’s just a terrible and inaccurate way to quantify if someone cares about your endeavor, and an even worse way to qualify whether someone cares about you. SO STFU AND FEEL GOOD ABOUT YERSELF NOOB, Arlen