:: Conjoined Cognition ::

:: Sunday, February 16, 2003 ::

well there's a girl i talk to online a lot whom i like very much. she finally gave me the address for her online journals and i'm so empathetic towards her as she went off her meds some time ago and displays so much of the same hopelessness i used to feel, before i began feeling the effects of thee mighty Effexor.

i want her to get back on meds. she said she'd speak to her shrink, tell him she went off. thing is, he sounds utterly useless--told her that she needs to get a boyfriend. as if that'll solve all her problems. she's painfully shy and misanthropic and he tells her to get a boyfriend. not to mention she's very depressive and at times suicidally so. fucking wanker. i'd like to kill him. she's a baby--18 or 19-- and i feel fiercely protective of her. i invited her to visit on her spring break--she is from reading! i met her on fandomination.net--she dug my slash, hahaha! she has great taste! she is obsessive like i am. richey sets her heart on fire, as he does mine. she's always very supportive of my Wire obsession, and she and i love to discuss the posibilities as far as richey and The Wire's possibly non-platonic relationship. we also like to discuss the meanings in lyrics and The Book and videos etc. etc. she's great. really sweet. i want her on meds, i want her to not feel so hurt and sad all the time. i want her to feel the way i do--i still don't really mix well with people but it doesn't bother me now. it's ok. i can deal. i embrace my alone-ness (enola alone). i love it.

parallels i draw between myself and The Wire:

1. i love to clean. i can do it for hours. i get obsessed with it.

2. i love boredom. i adore it. i love nothing more than to lie in my bed, staring at the walls, with a cd playing, for hours. my mind occupies me for hours. for days. i can go three and four days without speaking. i like to. i might speak to Cairo, for her own benefit. but i remember when i lived on bartlett st, i would get home on friday and spend from friday til sunday night (monday if it was a long weekend) in my room, reading, listening to music, with my door locked, my bedroom door closed and music on so i couldn't hear anyone knocking. i have to admit that it was nice to not have a phone or tv, but only because if i needed either i could just go downstairs to shonna's. if i really had no access to either, i'm sure it would have sucked.

anyway. i digress. The Angel (as i will call her because to me she represents sweetness and light and purity) is suffering terribly and it makes me insane. i know what she's feeling.

o christ, last night i slept over at shonna's and i had a massive panics attack, from about 11 pm when we went to sleep until about 7 am, when i finally drifted off from utter exhaustion. i laid in bed rigid, trying to talk myself down, trying breathing excersises, anything to make me relax. all i could think of was how fucked up everything is. i was thinking about "bully". then i began thinking about "kids" and i was getting all worked up--are these really realistic portrayals of today's youth? and i mean kids is old, now. it's like 5 or 6 years old, isn't it??

it scared me.

i don't know why, but i guess panic attacks aren't exactly rational to begin with. it's just...for some reason all the sex really got to me. to me, of all people. mind you, in spite of my fucked up promiscuity i have a fairly puritan view of sex. i just can't seem to adhere to it, unless i'm actually dating some one. in which case, i'm usually completely obsessively monogamous.

i was also thinking a lot about Dickhead last night. i guess i've re--reached the point where i really miss him, although finally (i mean finally as opposed to the other times we broke up, because i know we've discussed this sort of recently) i know that the chris i miss will never come back. i got really really upset last night, thinking about how he's nearly 40 now, living in a shit little motel room masquerading as an apartment beside a higway in central florida with detroyed credit, no future, and a drug habit. i mean, i got REALLY REALLY upset. started crying a little, even.

i just...what can i do? nothing. if i thought i could help him, i would. i want to. because deep down, there's a part of him i still love, even if it's buried underneath addiction and bitterness and may never see the light of day again.

i think about how sex with him was really....nice. maybe it was because i loved his body so much. i think it's because i loved him. he was the only person i've ever had sex with--and the number i've been with is upward of 30 for sure-- whom i've ever really loved.

knitty, knitty, pray he doesn't call me. i don't want him to move here because i don't have faith that he'll ever give up the drugs, but i would, if he asked, do what i could to bring him here, because i feel that florida is such a terrible bad place, especially for him. you know how in bully you just got that bad bad feeling? that's how florida always felt for me. or maybe i got that from bully because of my experiences there? tell me what you think--how much effect did that film have on you? was it just another movie or did it haunt you? it's sure as fuck haunting me. so many many things haunt me...

richey haunts me. chris haunts me. i think about this gene song--

"But with all the things that I've said
I'm still haunted by you
in every town, every place
you're waiting.
on my tongue lies disgrace
still haunted by you
yes you, you're in my way"...

that's chris. chris is this trap i just keep falling back into. and i know why. it's because my nature is to love and nurture and to heal and my supposed best quality is loyalty, which means i hang on to the ones i love best as tightly as i hang onto a grudge (think The Cunt from high school).

more and more i'm using this as a new and separate platform for my Rant. does this upset you? it's just i feel so weird about all of this. while i feel good, i feel torn and strange. there is a lot of conflict going on in my head, but it's organized now and i can handle it. it's not overwhelming.

ah, fuck, i love my new tats. jesus, i do. i was considering getting another--on my forearm to cover my burn scars. i was thinking about getting a kind of gothic version of the cheesy heart and banner (useless generation...) but with "love's sweet exile" written in the banner. i really think i ought to cover up these scars, you know?

probably you're thinking, "enough with the manics tattoos!". but hell. fuck it. this is a really intense period for me. i want to mark this time. i want to mark myself. suddenly i've remembered why i fucking love tattoos so much. i hate pictures--even custom designed stuff looks too much like flash to me. i prefer logos and symbols and words. simplistic. simple. explanatory. i don't like a lot of color. i just want to have things that mean something. i was also thinking about "anxiety is freedom" but i feel myself leaning toward love's sweet exile more.i don't think i'll regret it, as people don't regret getting misfits and black flag tattooed all over themselves! i don't regret neubauten, and i haven't listened to them in years, because it reminds me of a special time, you know?

i'm afraid that you disapprove of all of this. that getting my lip repierced and my wrists inked has disappointed you, although i don't know why, yet in a way i guess i do...i'm confused by all of this. maybe you are too. i was sure i was finished with this because i was associating tats and piercings with "punk rock" which i don't consider myself anymore, however i very suddenly remembered the reason for these things--i'm sure that there are people who do these things to fit in with a peer group, but me? i just want to make the things i love known. i mean, i know that SOMEDAY in my life some one is going to look at my wrists and get excited. someday, one person will know. and that right there is worth it, regardless of all the pleasure i'll get from looking at them and loving them. regardless is the wrong word--i'm sure you know what i mean. and having my lip done again? i forgot how it felt, i forgot how it made me feel beautiful. i forgot how willing i am to smile at everyone i pass on the street, on the bus, in the store...o i feel gorgeous now. this tiny tiny piece of metal raises my self esteem in ways i cannot possibly describe. so try to be hap py for me?
ah, this is long! tomorrow is going to be a nice relaxed day--i wonder if we'll have work on tuesday? so so so much snow...ok, i'm out for now. i didn't address anything from the previous entry...sorry!
love you best, though. more soon.
:: Mme. M 10:20 PM [+] ::
...

Hello Sister,

It's harder for you to blog than it is for me: I have my PC and phone line all to myself (as the Man doesn't get home until late), and even when you can get on-line, you're likely to get bumped. Argh!

You might want to check into NetZero.com. I think they offer a limited number of free internet hours per month, and even paid they're awfully cheap, I think like $12/month or something.

Anyway, there is much to reply to in your blog.

First, I am so impressed with your openess! I wrote in my blog Here that I think this blogging/e-mailing/phoning in which we've engaged has really brought us closer together. Also, I propose that the act of becoming more open is increasing our mental health as well. I've noticed that my relationship with Mum has improved and become much more open as well; it certainly seems as though your relationship with Mum has gotten MUCH better!

I don't think that we were ever deliberately closed off to each other; I just think that acting/speaking in an open manner has ever been the Modus Operandi (is that right?) for either one of us. I think of all our conversations, and it seems that any time one of us wanted to state that we wanted something of someone- whether it be to stop calling so much, to be truthful about one's intentions, etc.- we've always viewed it as being a confrontation.

The thought that Asking For What You Want is a confrontational act- that is a false thought, and it's one that causes much anxiety. The root of that thought is something like, "I have to fight for What I Want," or "What I Want is bad, will cause someone else to suffer," etc.

The actual fact is that stating what you want clearly opens up the interaction. It lets others know where you stand, what your intentions are, what can be expected of you, and so on. It also suggests to others that they may honestly state what they want. It allows for a mature, open, clear interaction. It also allows you to actually get what you want, I think! The root thought is, "I can get what I want." Period. No anxiety, guilt, etc. Ahhhh!

Anyway, that's quite a tangent. And you may disagree! But really, I think that your openess has allowed you to state what is, and you appear to be without unnecessary guilt or shame over it, which is as it should be. This is What Is. We are all such interesting creatures inside! The act of puttting it out there in writing, music, theatre, art, etc., allows others to look inside and see it. It may also encourage others to look inward and see it, though usually our culture encourages others to look in the mirror and see Not Enough there. But still. There are some, like the Manics, who encouraged others to work on the inside, on the thought, which dictates everything. At least, this is my belief.

You ask what I think is the Ultimate Way to Beat Nature.

I think we have different ideas on what constitutes nature. To me, you *are* Nature. There is nothing in existence that is not Nature- everything is composed of organic matter, particles and atoms. Nature is All There Is.

If you starve, it is only natural that you will suffer and die. Note that suffering might occur as pain- it may occur as delirum, disassociation, stupors, shock. It may occur as a "high," a flood of endogenous opiods and adreneline.

The same goes for burning. If you burn, it is natural that you will suffer and scar.

If you change a circumstance, it is changed. Nature never Not Exists. Will you beat yourself?

The only way to beat yourself is to die, and even that is up to debate. As far as we know, you simply die and cease, eventually, to exist. Is is not natural to die and decompose? It may be natural to continue to exist in a spiritual form, or some other form of energy. We'll all find out one day. Either way, it's the Way of Nature.

The next step down from Nature, for humans, is Human Nature. What is the Best Way to Beat Human Nature?

To me, it seems that there is no way to beat human nature. Anything you do, since you're human, is within your nature.

So it seems that your question really centers on the Survival Instinct.

Clearly, starvation goes against the Survival Instinct.

However, the Ultimate Statement against the Survival Instinct is to kill yourself outright.

To intentionally draw out suffering, for example, in starvation and other forms of self-harm, speaks to something else. It is a statement of Self, and in my philosophy is also a statement of how the self feels about the world. I would think that Self-Harm in any manner speaks of a Root Thought that must think, "There are necessary conditions on my existence in the world."

I don't know what those conditions might be. The extremes of self-harm- where the intent is not to exit entirely- might include conditional thoughts such as, "I exist, yet I don't deserve to exist," or "I am too bad to rightfully exist."

I don't know, though- this is purely a thought experiment on my side.

Well, this is a lot of blogging! Hurrah!!! Let me know your thought on this!


:: jennetic 1:30 PM [+] ::
...

Blog blog blog…

Ah! It’s been forever since I did this—have to be a bit more disciplined about blogging. It is, I suspect, good for the soul.

Your question: how do I feel about putting this stuff up here for anyone and everyone to see? Well, that’s an interesting question. As you know, I’ve had the rant up for a pretty long time and I used to be pretty good about posting, too. There have certainly been times when I thought I was being a tad too open about myself, especially once I began giving the address out to people I know I realtime. As time progressed however, I came to terms with one very simple fact: I’m better at written communication than verbal. I find it a lot easier to articulate myself this way. When close friends ask me what I’m thinking or what’s been going down in my life, I tend to have a really difficult time expressing things. Especially the things that I feel ashamed of, or which I think may be met with an element other than sheer joy, if you catch my drift.

I’ve found that people who read my rant get pretty into it and tend to want to read more when it stops. This makes me happy.

Over time I’ve become something of an online exhibitionist. I wish I had all the e-mails I wrote to N. while I was in Florida, because if I did I would post them as they directly chart my descent into bulimia and self-harm.

For a long time I didn’t consider myself to be bulimic because it has been off and on and not consistently on-going, however after engaging in an amount of research I find that this is not uncommon, and that some people consider even the thought of going back to it ‘bulimic’ in nature, although I’m not so sure if I agree with that. I do agree with Marya Hornbacher that the first time you stick your fingers down your throat and force yourself to rid your body of nourishment, it demonstrates a problem.

I really need to be better about charting my behaviors. The Therapist is right about this. Finding the patterns is definitely part of the solution. I’m finally beginning to learn something other than the fact that I have a few issues. The hard part is remembering to chart the possible triggers when the time comes because when it strikes, I think of nothing but food and either eating it, purging it, or abstaining. All thought revolves around if I will eat, when, what, when I can puke and the chances of being caught in the process.

I haven’t purged in nearly 3 weeks. This is good. But it’s not a milestone, by any stretch.

Hmmmmm. I digress. You asked how I deal with people knowing things about me, such as the above rant. Basically, honestly, I get off on it, because in my mind there is nothing so interesting as reading about another person’s darknesses, and another person’s struggles. That’s why I bought “Wasted”, it’s why I bought "Lovesick" (about a woman dealing with her treatment for sexual addiction) and it’s why I love Richey James so much—I find his struggle absolutely fascinating. The fact that I can relate to so much of it makes it even more so.

I fall in love with writers and with their characters and with artists, because these people put their pain out on display. I love music because the emotion it betrays is just a window into the artists’ emotional selves. I fall in love with people online, regardless of their genders simply by reading their thoughts and by the word structure they choose to embrace. I love emotional exhibitionists. Porn bores me senseless, but this could easily be construed as emotional pornography, I think. Putting it out there, thoughts and feelings that are completely naked, waiting to be read and even judged.

I find this exciting. It’s like a cerebral orgasm, I guess. I like to know that there are people out there who might read this and wonder about me, wonder what I’m like in the flesh.

So did I answer your question? In this case I am the voyeur and the exhibitionist all at once, dual roles that feed off of each other. TerreSonja (remember him?) fell in love with my words. I can relate to that—I fell in love with his, as well. Sometimes I feel that as a person who wants to be a writer, it’s just the way of the world. It’s how I’m wired. And I’m certainly not alone—the popularity of blogs attests to this. Even as you struggle, there is something in you that wants to do this, perhaps a desire to be known, a desire to make your existence known to people who would never have known otherwise.

Sometimes I sound like a pretentious twat.

Current news: The Anger Factor concerning The Best Friend has waned. This gives me some relief. Maybe it’s the doubled dose—150 mg. of Effexor, up from 75. I feel good. I suspect that within the next few days I’ll feel great. I’m a little nervous about paying for the next batch but I’ll manage. Other current news: My sex drive seems to have dropped still further. This is interesting. I can think about and look at The Wire for hours and feel very little below the hips. I will say this: at this point the only way for me to feel the least bit naughty is by thinking about him, which I think is a very good thing. This will keep me out of trouble, out of potentially “dangerous” situations. Don’t want a repeat of The Limey any time soon.

While I still feel that it’s “cheating”, it’s a huge relief. Now, if only I can get a handle on my other “urges”.

The two I'm struggling most with now is feeding and binge drinking. I can't fathom why I have such a strong desire to do this. Actually, that's a lie. I know that I'm trying to escape something. I just don't know what. The only difference between my drinking habits this time last year and now are as follows:

1. Last year, I was drinking because I was unable to deal with the terrible situation I was in--no job, forced to spend entire days in a tiny room alone, Chris was totally neglecting me and I felt completely helpless. I drank to make myself pass out because was in terrible pain. I hated being conscious.

2. I was cutting. I'm not cutting or burning currently.

3. When I drank, I mixed the gin or vodka. now I drink it straight, out of a water glass. I fill it up and just go for it, alone in my room with the Manics or Radiohead on, smoking, talking on the phone, or sometimes writing e-mail.

While it was very clear to me what I was seeking to escape last year, now it's much less obvious. But there has to be something. Unlike a year ago, I find myself wanting to do it even when I feel happy. As if it's perfectly natural to drink nearly an entire bottle in a space of 3 hours, alone. I know that I do it here because I feel safer here than at the bar, but why do I want to do it at all? These are the things I have to work on. These are the things that hopefully I will eventually work through. Drinking has gone far beyond the point of recreation for me now and I know it (shades of Richey's last interview...). I CAN go out and drink socially, but i prefer not to. is this another Richey-ism? I thought so at first, however after reviewing my behavior a year ago, now i disagree.

In an attempt to understand my desire to attain some sort of ascetic perfection I made a short list of my vices and their attraction, or if i may, why i relate them to Purity.

Vodka= clear, "clean", "hot" (burns going down).

Cutting =cleansing through bloodletting.

Burning = cleansing through fire.

Starvation = obvious.

Bulimia = obvious.

The Therapist admitted to me that she found me fascinating in that I am very aware of what I am doing and some of the reasons for it. She is trying to help me understand why I don't really want to stop, Iwant to stop only because I don't want to hurt the people close to me. this is the Big Issue. Cross your knitty fingers for me, baby. One day, I'll find the answer.

Question: Do you agree that the refusal to properly feed oneself is the ultimate display of beating nature? What about refusing sex? These things plague me. If you disagree, what do you think IS the ultimate display? Just curious.

I’m really gonna try to write more often in here-I love to do it. It’s just finding the time…

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers:: "The Holy Bible":: 'Die In The Summertime' ::

:: Mme. M 8:51 PM [+] ::
...

Where We're Sending Drella, ASAP
Love,
Knitty Sister
:: jennetic 3:17 PM [+] ::
...

ooooh sister, you have to check this one out! It seems like everytime we have a big conversation things Pop Up in the World which kinda confirms the topic at hand! HA!
:: jennetic 1:53 PM [+] ::
...

HAHAHAHA!! Who would think that we talk practically every night, that we're in constant communication. We aren't much for blogging, eh sister?!?


:: jennetic 1:49 PM [+] ::
...