1:45 a.m. - 2008-07-15
RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
So I have been avoiding this thing like the fucking plague for a while, which I tend to do when Im feeling unsettled about my life. The extra-long hiatus was caused by me feeling the overwhelming urge to procrastinate - a perennial problem in my life. However, I think it was a wise decision. By allowing this thing to hang over my head, I was able channel my avoidance energies into actually doing my school work, rather than the other way around (ie blogging to avoid homework). Also, its summer in NY, which means that I've been going outside and to, you know, things more frequently than usual. The shorter hiatus, the one following the last, drunk, post was caused by 1) me catching a cold and simply not being able to think through all the congestion in my head, 2) my computer being commandeered for JJ's performance piece (it's the only one in the house that will play his video clips, for some reason), and 3) my anxiety about not having a job. Well, I'm not actually that concerned about the lack of job. Actually, I'm more stressed about the fact that I have received literally not one reply to any of the applications I've sent out. I mean, I've always heard that it's difficult to get a publishing job, that you need a web of connections, etc, etc, but I guess I just thought it would be different for me. I suspect this is my first intimation of the whole 'life does not always turn out like you expect it to, and it is often disappointing' feature of adulthood that I've heard so much about. So listen up internets! You, and you alone, can save me from my disillusionment. If you, or anyone you know, happens to be a high-powered publishing magnate, feel free to send them my way. I have a cover letter. Several, actually. (One for children's, one for PR positions, one for adult editorial, and one general.)
Anyway, yes, in my absence, I have also made my performance art/burlesque debut. (Calm down, dad, I kept my clothes on.) I came, I sprayed green goo, I dragged my roommate off stage while he chomped on a tube of red lipstick. It was epic. I will never listen to David Bowie's "Fame" the same way again. I feel like other things happened, but this is the problem with not writing regularly. You forget stuff. In particular, you forget stuff if you are me, who already suffers from a memory like swiss cheese, and you fail to write during the whole of NY pride month, which - as you might imagine - was a bit chaotic in my house. Not to mention the fact that I've finally started occasionally hanging out with girls who like girls, which means that I got to run around and go to a few lezzie events along with all of my usual fag-hagging. Not that this has translating into actually going on dates with gay girls, mind you. But I'm not dating boys either, so this can be written off to just a dry spell, rather than my more chronic problems with the queer ladies. (For those of you who don't know me, this is a reference to the fact that I almost never date gay women. That one, a while back, in the letter, was an aberration. If I go out with/meet/kiss a girl, the odds are about 90% percent that at some point during the encounter she will pull back and say, "you know, I've never been with/been attracted to a girl before". This phenomenon has led to my being occasionally referred to as the 'queer divining rod'. If there is even a drop of bi-curiosity in a girl, I start quivering.)
Moving on. The other big news is that Velma has moved in with me (previously known as Kinker, but she hates that name). This may seem counterintuitive, since I just said that my romantic life is non-existent, but, despite appearances, we are not in fact dating. We just share a room, and a bed, and are soon going on an all-couples vacation with my family to Oregon. It's not actually weird, it just sounds that way when I write it down. I would like to blame this for my failure to attract potential partners, but it would be a complete lie. I think my pervasive ambivalence with regards to my sexuality, my unemployed state, and my utter inability to flirt with people I'm actually attracted to more than account for that. (This is not meant to make me sound pathetic, though I realize that it does, a little. I'm not deleting it, though, because what is a diary - even a public one - for if not to vocalize and contextualize one's insecurities?)
Well, thanks for listening, anonymous, possibly-nonexistent public. I think now I've got to get back to those articles for class tomorrow. You know, the ones I've been using this thing to avoid reading.
-Britt
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