16 March 2001 ~ Negativity and scaring myself silly...

Some more borderline-threatening messages in my guestbook... I'm beginning to think it's a function of this town to breed miserable people who believe it's their duty, as citizens of the Southern Tier of New York, to harass their fellow (wo)man into oblivion. No such luck in this case, as I'm quite confident that (as suggested by my anonymous comrade):

*I am not in love with Peter.
*I am not a "ho."
*I am not ANYTHING Jo or Kevin has inferred about me.
*I am not an "egotistic bitch."
*I do not "fuck" people merely for their sexual orientation.
*I am not anorexic and there is nothing wrong with my occasional moodswings, as EVERYBODY has them.
*I am not afflicted with multiple personality disorder.
And CERTAINLY, *I have accomplished MUCH greater things than being on the front cover of the local paper!

Such negativity! I can only imagine that I'm now supposed to write some defense of my character, some statement describing, in detail, all of the things I am not... Rather, I'm going to continue ignoring this shit for the most part, and focus on the fact that half a dozen -- or more -- people have signed my guestbook in the past few days with quite lovely things to say.

I've written several letters and emails in the past week or two: really introspective ones I'm a little afraid to send. But I've had a few important insights in the past few days...

I haven't always been a very nice person, or a very happy person. I've done my share of lying, of manipulating, and of -- yes -- cheating. I've fucked with a few heads (albeit, heads that were already severely fucked up and had notions of transferring a little bit of evil over to my life), and I've spent many more than one night drinking things I shouldn't have been drinking, being intimate with people I shouldn't have been intimate with, and occasionally making a general nuisance of myself. I've hurt people (albeit usually people who were just fucking ASKING for a good solid kick in the genitals, but I'm small and I have a difficult time with physical violence), I've talked poorly about people (albeit, never without willingness to express EXACTLY how I felt about that person to his or her face), and I've occasionally let my frustrations get the better of me. I've done stuff I actually regret quite a bit, and I've tried to rectify as much of it as I've felt was necessary. I've also done stuff that other people SAY I should regret, but I couldn't care less about it, and am, in regard to one or two situations, revelling in having received my just desserts.

Yeah, I've done a few really fucked up things. Oh well. Haven't we all?

The thing is, however, I'm certainly not a generally bad person simply because of a few misguided actions I've taken! As a matter of fact, I think I'm actually a hell of a good person! You take care of me, and I'll take care of you. And also, I tend to see value in things that many people don't bother with, which to my mind, makes an incredibly interesting person. In the past six or eight months, I've surrounded myself with wonderful people, have given up a few bad habits, have learned a little bit more about friendships and lovers, and have essentially decided to forget about other people's negativity. I think that's a damn fine beginning for a freakin' nice person to hang out with.

Eventually -- within the next two years, if all goes well -- I'm going to move out of this town. However, it won't be to escape my dreadful past. The past is over and I've learned from it, and I always HAVE moved on. I will move because OTHER people seem so hell-bent on KEEPING me smothered with reminders of this dickhead I lived with or that one time I had a fight with so-and-so... Seems everywhere I go, there's SOME foolish reminder of some foolish thing that's fucking over and done with... I'm not going to move to escape myself; I like myself and I deserve what I have, and maybe a lot more. I'm going to move to be out of target range for my current (ever-dwindling) collection of bitter, nasty people who can't let go of the fact that I'm not as bitter or nasty as they themselves are.

[As David so aptly quoted Matchbox 20 the other night: "Everyone here hates everyone here for doing just like they do..." Astounding that I'd ever meet somebody who can match me at a quoting-battle, but David's good like that; also, he's had a bit of time to objectively reflect on Binghamton's insane habit of giving birth to so many drama queens and negativity princesses...]

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Spent most of last night with Corrine, scaring the wits out of myself and her with a home-made ouija board and talk about "the old days." I guess the coffee situation (two pots of triple-strength Maxwell House) didn't help our respective cases of the creeps to subside any. Thus, we ended up tearing the ouija board into little tiny shreds and flinging it into the Chenango River, after which I spent the sleeping hours of my night comfortably nestled in Norman's arms. I sincerely doubt there's anything better than scaring yourself silly and then "saving" yourself by falling into the arms of some nice loving soul...

I've used ouija boards before... Once, at Girl Scout camp, some girls made one out of shredded notebook paper and a Thermos top, and I got to experience that... Another time, Julie and I used her store-bought one in my basement, which was freaky simply because my basement really was sort of similar in appearance and mood to my inner depictions of the chambers of Hell... Yet another time, I convinced my brother to try it with me, but it didn't work that time... I've never gotten any real insight from the (and I use these quotes quite emphatically) "Spirit World." By this, I mean, I've never had a ouija board tell me anything I didn't already know or suspect, except once one told me the middle name of a guy whose middle name I didn't know. Still, I'm fascinated with the things, because they DO work; I have experienced them working, have felt the pointer-thingy move under my fingers without my fingers moving it. I don't know how it happens, and I don't really WANT to know exactly how, because if I DID know, what would be the sense of staying up all night with coffee and a friend to scare myself silly?

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Came home from work early due to "girl trouble." Believe I'm going to go make myself something salty to eat and pass out in front of Lifetime TV: Television for women with cramps and nothing better to do.

Love,
~Helena*