ever wish you could tell people that died before you were born, or before you knew them
that what they did changed your life, or just made you feel good, if only for a couple minutes?
total strangers, family, the guy on the corner signing for change and a meal that day.
i wish i could say " hey ginsberg, your poetry about america that you wrote in the 1960's still
reflects what's going on now and how i feel personally", or have the ability of shaking the hand or giving a
stern hug to your
grandmother/grandfather on your father's side, when all you might have done is fly out to california
with a parent when you were a couple months old, out of diapers and sick with diahrea throughout
the whole plane ride.
i wish i could figure out people better. why all families seem screwed up in their own big ways, how no one
wants to talk about their real problems and how usually those problems shaped who they are now. why my girlfriend only
reads this journal to see if i talk about her and if i call her "bitchy" or "hard to get along with".
its interesting that i'm 19 and i don't know what i want to do for a career or just simply scared to make a commitment on one thing,
or possibly just don't see a future in myself in any of the things i'm good at doing or enjoy working with.
i like this journal. i find it funny that people search for perverted things and get to a random page on it, and
then spend an hour reading 10 more entries. i think writing helps with things, perspectives, reflections, getting things
straight, just making me feel humble. "i'm me!" and that's all. i forget sometimes that its just to dabble my thoughts in.
sometimes i don't write in it because i think people will judge on my writing style or technique or something.
i guess i'm way too concerned about what other people think of me. work is stressfull. work has the funny
characteristic of taking something you love to do and turning it into something you loathe to get over 35 hours a week.
i guess no one wants to be on a conveyer belt and digitized and stamped with a title and told what to do. cogs are never happy.
i'm supposed to go to connecticut in 2 days. we were going to drive there, have an adventure, but i never did get that lisense,
gas is more than $2.00 a gallon and that buick century just doesn't look like it'll make it to the next county.
that makes me sad. i wanted an adventure. i wanted to write my own kerouac road i wanted something to tell.
i guess Dhalia and i are going to take a plane, complements of her mom and her insane hookups at the airline,
hope she's going to get them soon. i miss my friends. i miss my mom, who misses me as if i was her reason for living this past 18 years,
its funny i'm all grown up, almost supporting myself, living paycheck to paycheck, living with my girlfriend, who says she loves(!) me.
i said i loved her after about 5 months of being together. god that's scary. i never thought she'd say that to me
and i have no idea how to act because of that. i've never had someone say that to me like that. i think i'm just scared to death at the very idea of
someone loving me that much. it almost doesn't feel right, makes me uncomfortable. keeps me awake at night in her own bed
just wondering about little things. i started leaving a small journal by the bed, i find i get inspiration for all sorts
of weird things at the oddest hours, and if i write them down they actually do make sense and i use them later
i'm tired. i'm physically and emotionally stressed out. i'm worried about alot of things. i broke my $100 wacom
tablet pen as my boss told me what was wrong with this and that i made. i think i shoudn't worry as much and just go go go until i
just fall down in a big huff and not get back up until he next day. again.
i want Dhalia to talk to me. i don't feal close really. i think she's got shit to wade out of. i don't think she wants to talk to me about it yet.
that kinda hurts. its not what i need right now. its not what i need ever. hmm
