October 23rd, 2000


(no subject)

I am totally freaked out! I've been up all night. I don't know who is real and who isn't anymore. I don't know who to ban and who to keep. I feel sick. I feel knocked off my center, and to think this is all just a bunch of fun for someone. Now I'm not even sure of my friends and I'm running around through all the journals tryig to sleuth things out. This is hell. The cruel unfair thing here is that I am not a toy, I'm real, and I don't deserve to be played with and manipulated. My time and my feelings and my thoughts are valuable even if they aren't to you.

i see you and i'm so perplexed
what was i thinking
what will i think of next
where can i hide
in the back room there's a lamp
that hangs over the pool table
and when the fan is on it swings
gently side to side
there's a changing constellation
of balls as we are playing
i see orion and say nothing
the only thing i can think of saying

is fuck you...

so fuck you
and your untouchable face
and fuck you
for existing in the first place
and who am i
that i should be vying for your touch
and who am i
i bet you can't even tell me that much

Ani Difranco
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    Ani Difranco

Fake Journaling, Billy Elliot, the movie, Swans and Me.

There is a link at the end of all this that you can follow to track with what I was /am upset about.

"Swan lake is just a ghost story." - Billy Elliot

This is my favorite ballet. It always makes me cry.

After going by my favorite BBS on anacam-two last night, and discovering, or imagining that I discovered even deeper layers of betrayal I wound up staying up until six am last night. I cab always get angrier for someone else's hurt and upset, than I can for my own. This is just more proof to me that I could never handle what the camfolk do. I couldn't tolerate all of the weirdness and hatred that people sling their way. All that judgment and mean pettiness and cruelty. Granted they get a lot of love and support too. But I think I would go mad when people attacked me publicly, or came after me in the weird ways that they do. I think I would have to build a fortress of serenity around myself, and even then I would always be checking to make sure no one was scaling my castle walls. It's a very weird new category of fame, kind of like the pre-fame phase of a successful actor. You've done some good work, people recognize you, but you haven't made enough money to move somewhere safe and surround yourself with security.

I'm so tired I almost sprayed myself in the face with my orange aromatherapy room spray instead of the Evian. Caught myself at the last moment with my finger on the button and the nozzle pointed towards my open eyes. Orange peel in the eyes, that would have awakened me.

I'm eating waffles and drinking Tang. Now that's a white trash breakfast if ever I saw one. I was looking for something comforting and easy for Noemi to make. I wish I had veggie sausages.

Last night before the movies I caught myself looking around at people. Wondering if anyone could be any of the people I've run into on livejournal. That old scary looking man over there could be some young woman I thought I knew. That woman could be some young guy. It's insane.

I went to see Billy Elliot. It was so good, I can't think of one critique, not one, and I am movie-picky. God knows I see enough of them. I loved it so much. It was completely sold out and everyone cried and applauded. It was so moving, especially if you were ever a guy who had to suppress his feminine side in order to avoid being picked on by other guys. It is also supportive and loving in it's own way towards gay folk. There's a wonderful little boy who the main character remains friends with and is kind to, even after he learns that he is gay, despite the tremendous fear this long-suffering, traditional, hardworking community has towards anyone less than incredibly tough and macho.

The men seem so mean and then underneath they are so good. I can't say enough about it, it's definitely a film for men to see, or for people who empathize with the plight of boys and men in our society. Well, it's a film for everyone, kids, adults, coal miners. It's so good, it's so well directed and acted, particularly the lead actor and his family. No, that's not fair, all of the actors. It cares so much about people. There's a sweetheart of an aging granny, and the Dad just broke my heart. I hated him for the first half of the film until I understood why he was so hard, and then I started weeping for him when he made a huge sacrifice for the sake of his son. I loved the little ballerinas in their sweet white ballet skirts, and I particularly loved the daughter of the teacher, who had a crush on Billy. She had the sweetest scene with Billy where they get in this pillow fight and he falls down on top of her and she strokes his face in this budding little girl way while all of feathers are floating down around them. It was so poignant when she tried to stop him from leaving by quietly offering to show him her "fanny," but I don't think the audience knew this meant her puss because when we say fanny here we mean butt. When they say it, they mean vagina. There's so much more I can say but I have other things on my mind and I've taken enough of your time. Just go see it soon, please.

I'm too afraid to face my comments and e-mail, or try to go catch up on any of the threads I'm involved in. I'm afraid to let myself believe that the people I know and care about here, are either real or fake. Either way I'm screwed. If I think you're real and find out you're fake I could get hurt. If I think you're fake but you're real you could get mad at me for doubting you. It's a complete double bind, no win situation. A prescription for insanity. I'm anticipating more attacks from the source of this madness. I need to get away from all of this. I can't be around people who are insane because I'm such a Zelig, such a chameleon, that I absorb their energies and take it all on.

My talent and my boundaries are such that I can easily become anyone I spend time with. If you have an accent I will take it on without even knowing it and start speaking like you. The same goes for your speech patterns and mannerisms. I have to rein myself in, to prevent this from happening and worrying people. But the worst part is when I'm with someone who is really ailing, and I've had a few friends like this, I'm talking clinically ill, schizophrenic and the like, I start to feel like I'm insane too. That's what was happening to me last night. I stated feeling like my mind was shattering, like I was really losing it. For an actor this is a tremendous gift, that combined with my passionate curiosity on an almost voyeuristic level makes for a pretty string gift. I can slip into people believing their lives are real. But in the real world it's a hard burden to shoulder. It makes me way too sensitive and feelingful.

I have drawn very hard and clear boundaries around my art and my real life. I think overly so. I know this bothers my partner because I have a hard time accepting his sense of play. When we go to the movies he comes out doing all of the voices and it makes me crazy because it would be so easy to do the same thing. But in order to be real in my life and keep my sanity, I create a hard boundary between the people I portray and me. Now Livejournal is a whole new animal. I imagine it would be easy to create false personas and sit back and feel very satisfied with oneself. But it's so unfair to the people you interact with. The dilemma for me now is who to trust, who is real, who is a persona. Perhaps I brought this upon myself when I created imajerk. Who knows. All I know is that I don't like it and I wish there was some way to prevent being toyed with. I don't like being someone's mouse. I don't like falling in love with fiction. I don't like caring about people who are about as substantial as a passing breeze. It makes me wanna have waffles and Tang, it causes me to lose sleep, it draws my energy away from positive things and misdirects it, and that just isn't good for me.

If any of you are interested in reading about any of this stuff that has been going on, or are confused about what I'm talking about you can go here.

the big horrible thread on my journal

I'll post my dream separately so you can skip it if you like : )


(no subject)

Okay here's my dream.

I dreamt that I was with my old friend Lorraine who abandoned me again, only in the dream we were together, and we had rented an apartment, but it was more like a kind of huge storage container on the outside. On the inside it was too big to be a container but it was crappy and industrial.

It is moving day and we have to get our stuff out of here ASAP. I am so worried that we won't be able to pack it all, in time. She has packed up her stuff pretty quickly but won't help me with mine. She does something mean to me, not majorly mean, but insensitive and upsetting, like squirting me in the face or something. I am panicking. I think there is no way we can get this done in time. The moving van will be here any minute.

We have only been renting this place for a few months. It was in really bad shape when we moved in. The people before us were kind of white trashy, split in a hurry, and left a bunch of stuff. The mean, greedy landlady told us we could keep it, but instead I saved it for them. Their kids left some of their childhood toys and memorabilia, photos and notes and things. They also left an antique stove and a couple of pieces of furniture.

Everyone seems to be moving from this area at the same time. The old tenants come by. I think they are just trying to make sure that when we move out, they won't be charged by the landlady for the huge mess they left behind. The father tells me that he wants to come in and clean up the stains where he used to park his car, so he wants me to pack all my stuff in that area right away.

The owners of the place come, a man and a woman. The woman is very white trash, bad hair and cigarettes. The man is slight and Asian. They are going over everything and blaming me for things I didn't do. The shower has a major plumbing problem. They ask me if I knew about it. I tell them that whenever I used to turn the water on, the pipes shimmied a bit, but I never complained because I didn't want to make waves. They use this against me and build a case for my having messed up the shower.

The girls who used to live here come in. They are so happy and grateful and amazed that anyone would be kind enough to strangers to so carefully save all of their childhood mementos and things.

Later, I am outside and the landlord is trying to figure out how much money to reimburse me. He is going over papers and figures. He calls my old friend $%#, who is a major, major, actor and director. In real life I have been too shy to contact him since the last time I saw him. The landlord is asking him to confirm that I did play a certain role and earned a certain amount of money. I mouth to the landlord to tell $%# that I love him. He hands me the phone and I am so happy and relieved to be speaking with him again. I tell him how much I've missed him and how much I love his acting and his last movie. It wasn't a big hit because I think it went over people's heads, well people who don't care or understand about theatre. I tell him how much I loved Cherry Jones and how great I thought it was. He is so nice to me. I tell him that I am having a party, I talk to him about my son Beau. We have a great conversation and it is healing to be able to reconnect with him after so much time has gone by.

There were a lot of models in this dream as well. I remember driving around an asphalt school yard with I think my mother and telling her the names of all of my model school friends. Kate Moss is there and Giselle and so many others. I think I am such a freak compared to them, I am amazed that they are friendly and kind to me.

Thanks for wading through my mind with me.

; )