fastblog's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm not dead sorry I have been gone so long. also I broke my fast. on the evening of day 5 I started really seriously questioning why I was doing this, and decided I was doing it for the wrong reason. I broke my fast on day 6, and a few hours later got into a car accident. take from that what you will. I am going to cross-post the entry from my 'public' blog here, so that you know what's going down. it is riddled with swearing, so just kinda ignore that before I get a chance to edit everything. in the meantime there is some drama going down with Marlowe, but that is an entry for another day. let's start on April 30th. I went to church with Champlain and actually tried to look not like a hobo for once. after that, he invited me out for Mexican food with some of his church friends but I had told Marlowe I'd be around to get my stuff back. it had since gotten hot outside so my awesome outfit wasn't actually a good idea. the heavy skirt and sweater didn't work in the hot sun and my car didn't have air. so after I went to Marlowe's [he gave me back the 'personal lubricant' but kept the condoms I purchased -- what the fuck is that?] I decided to go right home and change and then do nothing for a while. so I am getting on the onramp to hwy 4 and my car just DIES. like no battery, no power at all, no movement... I'm going 100 km/h and all of a sudden it just dies. the steering locks up. I tried my best to get it over to the side of the road not 100 feet from the highway. then I walked all the way to a McDonalds in FUCKING HIGH HEELS to use the payphone (since I have kind of given up on the whole cell phone idea). long story short, my dad arrives almost an hour later. we go to where the Buick is stranded and try to start it -- it starts, but dies again a couple minutes later. luckily the second time it dies is in the mechanic's parking lot. we find out it needs a new alternator. I pay $421 for that and an oil change. somewhere between that incident and now I have decided to never go anywhere EVER if I'm dressed up. sorry, but looking "good" isn't fucking worth it, and "dressing for success" is a fucking oxymoron in my language. I've always made fun of the girls who go to school or run errands dressed as if they're going out clubbing. it isn't practical and it isn't hot and it doesn't make sense to always act as if you're actively looking for someone to mate with when you're sitting in class listening to a boring lecture or trying to buy cigarettes and tampons at the corner store. I began to reject conventional fashion myself to the point that I cut my own hair, shunned makeup, wore holey but comfortable sweaters and went around looking like a particularly disheveled high school aged boy slqash homeless person. the one time I try to look good (not dressed like a skank, but in an 'outfit' involving a skirt and heels) I fuck myself over and have to walk for forty-five minutes beside a fucking highway in the baking sun. FUCK. THAT. ever since then I have made a point to go out wearing something comfortable and functional and shoes that facilitate, you know, walking and not being in extreme pain. I don't care if dudes/chicks don't check me out. I don't care if I get weird looks or if people think I'm homeless or if I'm not 'dressed for the occasion'. fuck your occasion. and further-fucking-more I don't fucking care if I'm not 'glorifying God through honouring my femininity' by looking like a butch or a man so if you're a Christian who subscribes to the whole "girls should look like girls" philosophy you can go fuck yourself. it's all tradition, all of it. it's all societal conditioning. the fact that an OCCASION requires specific attire is fucking bullshit because it changes depending on culture and region and it DOESN'T MATTER. fuck Champlain for looking down on me for wearing casual clothes and flip flops to church. fuck the Christian guys who pass over me and go for the totally superficial, makeup-slathered, trendy, blonde, primped chicks, the ones who go against EVERYTHING the Bible says about ignoring a woman's beauty and charm and focusing on her character and work ethic. fuck everyone. next time my car breaks down I'm not going to be the one wobbling along the side of the road trying to get to safety in a skirt and heels which are, you know, so cute and awesome because they make my legs look great but my feet hurt like hell after standing for five minutes. fuck you. fuck expectations. I dress for comfort and for myself, NO FUCKING EXCEPTIONS. I haven't worn a skirt yet and pretty much haven't changed out of my pjyamas since that incident except to go to work (and to my workplace's credit, those uniforms are totally utilitarian, practical and comfy). /end rant anyway. that very week, my dad tells me he knows a woman who is selling a used 2003 Sunfire for around $7500. I don't have $7500 but all of a sudden my aunt is all "I'ma give you a loan and you can pay me back interest-free over like 4 years" and I'm all "right on" so a week after the Buick incident I am in buttfuck nowhere and suddenly have a new car. it has air conditioning and a cd player. it has brakes that work and (theoretically) a healthy engine. it is good on gas. it is shiny black. it is, in other words, hott. the tires are kinda bald but I figure they'll last until I get my next paycheque and can replace them. FIVE DAYS LATER I was driving back from my sister's work after dropping her off, and had been ordered to stop at walmart to get some cheap light fixtures because some realtor was coming to look at the house or something. this particular onramp (coming from the town where I go to school, just after the M exit) is brutally curvy. also, it is hwy 4, which has apparently been cursed. also, it was raining and it was 8am and I had 4 hours of sleep and my tires are pretty much bald and I was going maybe ten km over the limit and HAY SURPRISE I ended up fishtailing and sliding into a fucking guardrail. it smashed the fuck out of the side of my shiny new car but the sunfire was driveable even though I couldn't open my door. I drove to walmart. I cried on the way there. once in the parking lot, I looked at the damage and cried some more. I went to the payphone outside the store, called my mom and cried. then I sat outside and cried until she came to save me. I cried in front of the lady who works at the bank, who later that day allowed me to empty my bank account and threw in a glance of pity for good measure. it was too much. all of the fucking ridiculous bullshit of the last two weeks suddenly hit me and I cried till I was totally unable to move. so yes, I was suddenly $11000 in debt (new car plus repairs). I was severely depressed. I called Champlain when I got home and told him about my severe depression, and he pretended to care, which was enough for me at that point. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, full-time work, personal drama and a 5-day religious fast. I was forced to rely on the Buick. driving the Buick is like driving a giant armoured truck, a tank or possibly a large boat down the highway. it has a huge, old, unefficient engine and consumes gas at twice the rate (or worse) as the Sunfire. a friend once referred to it as a "hobo car". I drove it to work and to my sister's work. the rest of the time, I slept and smoked and read and hung out with my dog. I put up other people's fucking astonishing asinine antics and tried not to become murderous and vengeful. I got all clich� and said "what would Jesus do?" and reasoned that Jesus was all about problem solving and forgiveness and all of that, but He was also all about rest. and He was about honesty, and He was about owning up to mistakes (in theory, since he didn't actually make any) and about balance and justice and what is right. Jesus didn't fuck with people's heads or use passive-aggressiveness or try to shy away from his problems or blame them on anyone besides the person who caused them. Jesus was about finding love where there is some. Jesus was not about wasting His time with people who didn't believe in Him, beyond trying to help them help themselves. He was not about trying to prove Himself to people who didn't matter. privately I thought about Jesus retreating into the desert for 40 days and nights. I thought about moving up north as soon as I'm done paying off this car, with any savings I have, and living in the woods by myself for 40 days or 40 years. TODAY, May 18, is the day my Sunfire is supposed to come back from the shop. I got my first bank loan (squee... I guess?) and paid off the repairs. I am supposed to hang out with my dear friend, the lovely and talented Marie Antoinette, for the first time in months. lo and behold, the Buick is missing! I find out that something happened when my mom went to drive my sister to work this morning (something involving the wheels and the brakes and some leaking oil/brake fluid and explosions and guess what now you have NO CAR AT ALL, not even a crappy old senior-citizen-mobile). so I must wait until 5:30 to get my Sunfire back. luckily the Buick had the decency to wait till today to fuck itself over, or else I'd really be screwed. anyways, the last few weeks have been a learning experience in more ways than one. a few days ago my self-imposed solitude and deep hatred for all things human broke and I started to email people back. I've come out of it with a few lessons... financial lessons, personal lessons, spiritual lessons. I've come out with it with a deepened sense of cynicism and hopefully an enhanced sense of maturity. I have also found a few moments of clarity in which I have decided what Really Matters and what Really Does Not Matter. thank God, for realz. 5:09 p.m. - 2006-05-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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