2003-02-21 - 9:07 p.m.
you know you are a lightweight (and i may have written this before) when you still get high off one cigarrette. i suppose it is a good thing, a result of a purist hippy mother who kept everything chemical or mind-altering far from her small brood of blossoming people. though she's taken the knowledge of my smoking quite well, all things considered. as a woman who knows the heart of the gospel and talks to Jesus quite often, she is of the opinion that it is in the heart of man that vices lie. my smoking, drinking, and swearing are merely symptomatic of deeper issues that capture her keen mother's heart. i am the blessed child of a saint.
oh, but my friends would laugh to know that i am smoking capri ulra lites. i find this fitting somehow, as they are long, tacky, and distinctly and self-consciously feminine. you see, i'm still trying to relinquish my aspirations of acquiring masculinity or of being admitted honorarily into the boy's club - a childhood longing that i now know is a pipe dream.
damn, i miss that. all you men (boys) out there will never be conscious of the blessing it is to have the proto phallus swinging between your legs. don't get me wrong, this is in no way some sort of penis envy. i have simple aesthetic reasons for being glad not to have that y chromosome. but i will always envy the companionship and comradery found uniquely in the company of men. for much of my life, i had thought that if i could hold my own, there was no reason that i could not join in this exclusive club. i laughed at the backward naivete that forbade my entry. after all, we are all people. but that is not the case. and while most of the male company i used to keep hardly notices my absense, i remain quite aware that a part of myself, the part that was accessed by those individuals, is gone. i understand the suffocating plight of eowyn, whose heart did not belong to the world of women.
while i went walking tonight, i nearly talked myself into calling some of my old friends. i don't know what i expected from the imagined conversations. probably catharsis. you know, i don't even talk to boys anymore. i don't see the point. i don't know anyone with whom the payoff could be worth the possible risk of playing the witch-whore, tease, man-eater, or whatever other implied titles i've assumed thanks to my so-called friends .
hmmm... i'm harping. it wasn't just a. he was just the most public and one of the more painful of a decently sized handful of friends-turned-traitor. and i'm in a position now to sit and nurse my wounds with nothing to really distract me.
and speaking of lack of distraction, have i told you that i've decided to put away "the bottle" for the better part of a year (excepting special occasions, such as weddings, funerals, and foreign escapades). it had become a little to distracting and a little too accessible and i got myself nicely toasted one night in seattle and couldn't drive home, the result was a phone call home and a very distressed family. i also made an ass of myself in front of jason, who has always been so kind to me. so i figured until i could learn some temperance, i should stay away from the stuff. though it is a shame...
well, it has been fun (though one-sided). we'll have to do this again sometime. i think i shall go for another walk and haunt the streets of lynden as i enjoy this fine evening.
