I started to watch tv again. Just a few old tv shows and some movies. I haven't read at all. Part of the discussion Austin and I had was unnerving. He wanted to explore my fascination with Frost, and concluded that it was more like an infatuation, an idolization, that would pass with the erratic mood swing that spurred it. I believe that is what is happening here. But I don't want to jump to conclusions. Instead, I will read today and attempt once more to write. The poem I wrote about the planets is losing depth every time I read it. It lacks sophistication. My writing has always seemed to lack a sophistication, but for what it is it has always been impressive. Impressive doesn't mean adequately expressive. To write from the heart while still fitting into scholarly lines, and ultimately breaking those lines...Ugh.
I played literati with John last night. He won, so I flashed him over webcam. This is the extent of my sex-life. Even he keeps asking me why I am not getting laid. I told him I am afraid because men are scum and women are crazy and I am the weirdest one of them all. I am not in a place for any decent person to love or respect. Is that self-deprecating to say? I should clean up from last night and keep writing. I like the feel of my fingers against the keys. Maybe I should just start writing a story or something. Anything. Keep the creativity flowing. Even if what I do isn't a masterpiece, it is like an experiment that will keep getting better.
Austin also told me to keep my head during times of chaos. He said that no matter how out of control things feel, you should always remember what is important. Usually, even during an intense mood swing, the sollution to every worry is to just continue on the path you have laid out for yourself. Keep reading and writing, keep up with school and self-maintenance. Keep exploring inside and divulging the truth from yourself. He said I was extremely self-aware, and that I probably will succeed in my attempts at bettering myself.
Stephen still hasn't picked up when I call. He is probably really mad at me. I feel bad for what I did. We need to talk, plain and simple. And I need to reevaluate my feelings and behaviors. I will not allow myself to become like my mother. Many things were passed on that I appreciate, but the violence is not something to be tolerated.
Dad e-mailed me. His words were accusatory, he really wanted to pass the blame onto me. He said that I had his information this whole time, it is my fault I didn't call him, it is my fault there is strangeness between us and it is my fault that I alienated him and his family. He said this in a series of declarative statements beginning with 'You'. Then he said he is expecting the information in the mail box soon. How commanding and macho of him. It is easy to see how to get back into his good graces. I should grovel and comply, wriggle up to him on my belly with wide, remorseful eyes. I don't know if I can do that. After all, he had my number and email address this whole time too. Where was he when the blame was being cast out? Stress is an illusive little beast. It hides in the most nonchallant places. An email, a refrigerator, a looking glass. I collect it like fool's gold. It is like holding electricity. But it is turning my hair white!