Monday August 16 2010

DREAM: I’m working on a team for Mark Warner’s political campaign. It’s understood that he tried to run for president up against Obama but lost and settled for governor of Virginia, to which he is now Senator of Virginia. Sitting in the office holding a plastic bag filled with a cherry candy gook. It’s leaking out and I’m swallowing some of it—a sweet and tangy flavor. I decide to graffiti one of the Warner flags, which seems to be transparent. Pouring the cherry gook and spelling out in big letters, YES YOU CAN. I thought it was clever because Obama’s campaign was, YES WE CAN. And so the change brings the focus on the individual. Also, afraid the others will think it to be blasphemous.

3 p.m. waking up.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.

Working on stuff online.

Monday chores.

Cutting up Watermelon.

Talking with Rocky about how beneficial wearing earplugs when I sleep helps in this house.

Emily: “I need to get off Foursquare. It’s making me neurotic. Knowing where everyone is all the time is really unsettling.”

Researching the harmful effects of wearing earplugs for long periods of time.

Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Mango Oolong Tea.

I run to the store.

Practice at the storage unit with Chris and Kal.

They leave and I do some yoga and stretching.

Eating Watermelon.

Kenneth gives me $10 for not being an asshole.

Exercising while watching a TED video.


Dinner: Udon Noodle Soup with Vegetables.

Art thinks there is a UFO in the sky but Rocky and I assure him it is just a dying star.

I meet Margot at the unit and we finish watching The Wolfman.

She says something kind of rude to me while I’m speaking and I go on this spiel about how hard it is for her to apologize when she’s in the wrong. We sit in a long and awkward silence. I take the opportunity to just breathe in and out. Then, she gets up and leaves. “It’s your move, Margot.” All I want her to do is admit when she’s wrong, apologize to me, and move on. Somehow these principles revert into her ideas on how this relationship isn’t going to work out and how important a title is for her. I feel a title cheapens and doesn’t define the world her and I have created. It’s the same concept when someone calls another person a Christian or a Muslim or a Jew or a Democrat or even a Musician. One person’s idea of what any of those titles mean will differ from the person being called it. It cheapens and doesn’t fully explain any of what the person truly believes or feels.

Me: “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

Her: “I get it from my mom.”

Me: “Me too.”

We end on a warm note, hugging and kissing. There is no title that can define what our world truly means.

Eating a light bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat Cereal.

Sleep around 6:15 a.m.

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