Anxiety
"The unpleasant emotional state consisting of psychophysiological responses to anticipation of unreal or imagined danger, ostensibly resulting from unrecognised intrapsychic conflict. Physiological concomitants include increased heart rate, altered respiration rate, sweating, trembling, weakness and fatigue, psychological concomitants include feelings of impending danger, powerlessness, apprehension and tension."
This is me. My psychologist says that I suffer from an anxiety problem that makes me scared to do the simplest things. Picking up the phone, going down hallways, everything. It's nice to know what's wrong with me and all...but still...as I read the psychological definition above, I start to worry if I'm even sane. "unreal or imagined" danger...oh dear. But I'm going to work on it. Soon, I'll be normal, I promise.
On other news, Jesse has decided that instead of going to Alabama, he's going to Ithaca to "see the boy." Yes, Jesse...our famous Jesse, is going to leave his two best friends to have a frolic in the garden of sexual delight. At first I was mad...all our plans were ruined. But you know, after accepting Braden's new ladyfriend, accepting this won't be so bad either. I've gotten used to disappointment. I just hope that maybe this weekend, something good will come of my party and I'll wake up the following morning to be happy for once. Happiness, wow. That's a pretty great concept.
Nothing more to say...
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Saturday, February 22, 2003
Final Stage: Acceptance
Since my escape home from Bard for the weekend, I realized I had to accept what happened between Braden and I. I emailed him a few days ago (a reply I did not receive, but hopefully he understands)...and apologized for my behavior. He's happy and that's all that counts. I care about him enough to let him be happy and not to be miserable. Maybe everything happens for a reason.
As for the process of my play, writing the scene I had envisioned about Braden and I was very emotional. I feel somehow obsessive now that I write about him. But in truth, the play wouldn't have taken place if I hadn't gotten to know him. He was the inspiration for the play, and to not put him in would be ruining all the ideas I have had since november when the idea first popped into my head. There are lines in the play that make me seem pathetic.
"Well, I’m going to say it again, I love you. (Shouts) I love you Braden! I don’t care who fucking hears me; I love you even if you do have a batman plush toy on your bed"
But, people...it's just a play. This statement is utter fiction and always will be. Let me say it again, It's a play. I never loved Braden, nor would I be as intimate with him as I am in this play. It's an idea, a passing thought. Maybe I wish I did love him, maybe I would...nah, best not think about it. It's just a play, mere drama.
I just wanted to apologize to everyone...I feel like I apologize for all my actions too much because I have to. It's always my fault that something doesn't go wrong...it's been that way ever since I can remember. So, I accept the blame and move on...It's not that bad.
Lyin in my pjs on a saturday night watching "Sister Act" on the WB is the ultimate life I thought I would live. I had a passing thought about getting my phd today...I'm sure that's not going to happen. I also had a passing thought, a serious one, about Cornell's journalism program after Bard. Then I laughed to myself.
Maybe the authorities are right in saying that I am a soccer mom. Should I just give up and accept my fate like I've accepted so many other things? Should I just realize that I am woman, and I will drive a mini van and have children with generic biblical names like John and Sarah? Or should I rebel against what people think...and go to Cornell, go get my phd, and maybe, quite possibly become something of an academic? Rebel against what people are thinking and stay mad at Braden?
No, staying mad at Braden would just be stupid. He's happy...and he should be happy. I feel as though ever since Braden and I have, whatever you want to call it...the suite has been colder, less inviting...Josh, Casey, Kelly, Sara...Lord knows I respect them so much, and think of them as some of the greatest people at Bard...I just feel like there's no sense of bonding anymore. Like we've been down this road before and everything was all puppies and kitties when Braden and I were together, or trying to be together. Lord, I should have seen Braden and I would be doomed. He was practically in tears when he told me he wanted to 'give it a shot' in his muffled disjointed speech...and I just held him and told him not to cry, like I was his mother. I am no one's mother. But, not doomed, what am I mean is...oh goddamnit, I don't know what I mean. I never know what I mean. I'm like Braden, he says one thing but it means something else.
Too much drama in my life...I need to slow down, take a breath...and enjoy what little sanity I have left.
Since my escape home from Bard for the weekend, I realized I had to accept what happened between Braden and I. I emailed him a few days ago (a reply I did not receive, but hopefully he understands)...and apologized for my behavior. He's happy and that's all that counts. I care about him enough to let him be happy and not to be miserable. Maybe everything happens for a reason.
As for the process of my play, writing the scene I had envisioned about Braden and I was very emotional. I feel somehow obsessive now that I write about him. But in truth, the play wouldn't have taken place if I hadn't gotten to know him. He was the inspiration for the play, and to not put him in would be ruining all the ideas I have had since november when the idea first popped into my head. There are lines in the play that make me seem pathetic.
"Well, I’m going to say it again, I love you. (Shouts) I love you Braden! I don’t care who fucking hears me; I love you even if you do have a batman plush toy on your bed"
But, people...it's just a play. This statement is utter fiction and always will be. Let me say it again, It's a play. I never loved Braden, nor would I be as intimate with him as I am in this play. It's an idea, a passing thought. Maybe I wish I did love him, maybe I would...nah, best not think about it. It's just a play, mere drama.
I just wanted to apologize to everyone...I feel like I apologize for all my actions too much because I have to. It's always my fault that something doesn't go wrong...it's been that way ever since I can remember. So, I accept the blame and move on...It's not that bad.
Lyin in my pjs on a saturday night watching "Sister Act" on the WB is the ultimate life I thought I would live. I had a passing thought about getting my phd today...I'm sure that's not going to happen. I also had a passing thought, a serious one, about Cornell's journalism program after Bard. Then I laughed to myself.
Maybe the authorities are right in saying that I am a soccer mom. Should I just give up and accept my fate like I've accepted so many other things? Should I just realize that I am woman, and I will drive a mini van and have children with generic biblical names like John and Sarah? Or should I rebel against what people think...and go to Cornell, go get my phd, and maybe, quite possibly become something of an academic? Rebel against what people are thinking and stay mad at Braden?
No, staying mad at Braden would just be stupid. He's happy...and he should be happy. I feel as though ever since Braden and I have, whatever you want to call it...the suite has been colder, less inviting...Josh, Casey, Kelly, Sara...Lord knows I respect them so much, and think of them as some of the greatest people at Bard...I just feel like there's no sense of bonding anymore. Like we've been down this road before and everything was all puppies and kitties when Braden and I were together, or trying to be together. Lord, I should have seen Braden and I would be doomed. He was practically in tears when he told me he wanted to 'give it a shot' in his muffled disjointed speech...and I just held him and told him not to cry, like I was his mother. I am no one's mother. But, not doomed, what am I mean is...oh goddamnit, I don't know what I mean. I never know what I mean. I'm like Braden, he says one thing but it means something else.
Too much drama in my life...I need to slow down, take a breath...and enjoy what little sanity I have left.
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
The blue shirt I picked out found him love without me...
This week hasn't been a good week for me. Last night especially.
I was asking Braden if it was okay if I used him and his cartoon character Kitty Hawk in my play, "Altered Ego", about internal realities in relation to the world. I wanted to make sure, because in my play, Braden and I are dating, the storybook I always pictured me and him would have, two mismatched crazy lovers with nothing but themselves.
I apologized to Braden for ignoring him and he said he was doing the same. I don't why I ignore him, it's just part of myself. There is something frightening, something strange...I don't know. Anyway, he told me there was a reason he had ignored me. The reason was he had met someone, a girl even...at the swing dance. The danced, they liked each other and they "kinda hooked up" was the phrase that Braden used.
Well folks, there is a blue moon out tonight. Braden has two girls. My mind filled up with tears and I cried like I haven't cried in a long long time. I had been doubled crossed! We were just taking a break! He promised things would get better! And now, a week after our parting he's making out (he didn't even really make out with me!) with some girl? This, boggles my mind! The unexpected always happen to Emily Sauter. Now all my play ideas are ruined. How can I make myself in love with Braden when Braden involved with someone else. It seems so cheap and obsessive, and I've been down that road before. It's not a good road.
he was wearing that blue shirt, the one that made me sexually attracted to him...and now some other girl's pawing the buttons on it, the shirt I thought would solve our sexual disaster...was bringing him pleasure with another girl.
He apologized again today, told me he couldn't be happy with new girl because he was sad I was upset. You're damn right I'm upset I told him. I was so upset I wrote a poem:
The Blue Shirt I picked out Found Him Love
Yes, the Idea is true
Theories of love let him be happy
But so horrible is rejection
In blue shirts, you move like a spiked punchbowl
Flowing through the veins of a 12 year old
You are the 12 year old refined.
This week hasn't been a good week for me. Last night especially.
I was asking Braden if it was okay if I used him and his cartoon character Kitty Hawk in my play, "Altered Ego", about internal realities in relation to the world. I wanted to make sure, because in my play, Braden and I are dating, the storybook I always pictured me and him would have, two mismatched crazy lovers with nothing but themselves.
I apologized to Braden for ignoring him and he said he was doing the same. I don't why I ignore him, it's just part of myself. There is something frightening, something strange...I don't know. Anyway, he told me there was a reason he had ignored me. The reason was he had met someone, a girl even...at the swing dance. The danced, they liked each other and they "kinda hooked up" was the phrase that Braden used.
Well folks, there is a blue moon out tonight. Braden has two girls. My mind filled up with tears and I cried like I haven't cried in a long long time. I had been doubled crossed! We were just taking a break! He promised things would get better! And now, a week after our parting he's making out (he didn't even really make out with me!) with some girl? This, boggles my mind! The unexpected always happen to Emily Sauter. Now all my play ideas are ruined. How can I make myself in love with Braden when Braden involved with someone else. It seems so cheap and obsessive, and I've been down that road before. It's not a good road.
he was wearing that blue shirt, the one that made me sexually attracted to him...and now some other girl's pawing the buttons on it, the shirt I thought would solve our sexual disaster...was bringing him pleasure with another girl.
He apologized again today, told me he couldn't be happy with new girl because he was sad I was upset. You're damn right I'm upset I told him. I was so upset I wrote a poem:
The Blue Shirt I picked out Found Him Love
Yes, the Idea is true
Theories of love let him be happy
But so horrible is rejection
In blue shirts, you move like a spiked punchbowl
Flowing through the veins of a 12 year old
You are the 12 year old refined.
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Thank you Bard!
I just looked outside my large window to the steps of Tremblay. That's right...no one has shovelled. There is about, 18 inches outside that I will have to step in. Thank you Bard!
Bard also plowed my car in last night, making my car barely visible. Thank you Bard!
We also had class yesterday while everyone was delightfully proclaiming, "Snow day!!!" on their away messages, I trudged to class at 10 AM, my face frozen from the icy whip of the snow. While whiteout conditions ensued, I learned about the French Satirical theater. Though I did get a B+ on my paper, it wasn't worth walking all the way to Olin for a class when I could have been safe in the very heated confines of Tremblay. Oh yeah, our heat works now. And might I say, a little too well. I wish the heater would make up its mind about working. So thank you Bard, for classes and a crappy dorm full of assholes.
Bard did shut a few things down, like things we needed. No cafe, no Kline, no green onion, no shuttle. But we STILL HAD CLASS. My dinner last night was chocolate, swedish fish, and wheat thins. My lunch was a microwavable Chef boyardee lasagna (okay, I don't why they call it lasagna, there's no cheese in it!)...so once again, thank you Bard!
and while I was stuck in Tremblay with only reading to occupy my time (oh man, reading about Alexander the Great in 3 different accounts is sucky) the WHOLE WORLD was watching Joe Millionaire. But no, it's Bard's "policy" not to let the students have TV. So everyone knows what happened but me, but dont tell me because my mom taped it for me...so thank you bard, for not giving us a window into to the outside the world. At least they give us pretty crappy internet.
So I just want to say again, thank you Bard for taking my mother's hard earned cash, the money she's been saving up so I could get a decent education...the money she's been making, 15,000 dollars a year, all by herself now for almost 11 years...so her two daughters could go to good schools and grow up to be upstanding citizens.
I just realized something. Today's the 18th. That's the day my father died. 11 years ago. Wow...
Nothing like an awkward ending...
I just looked outside my large window to the steps of Tremblay. That's right...no one has shovelled. There is about, 18 inches outside that I will have to step in. Thank you Bard!
Bard also plowed my car in last night, making my car barely visible. Thank you Bard!
We also had class yesterday while everyone was delightfully proclaiming, "Snow day!!!" on their away messages, I trudged to class at 10 AM, my face frozen from the icy whip of the snow. While whiteout conditions ensued, I learned about the French Satirical theater. Though I did get a B+ on my paper, it wasn't worth walking all the way to Olin for a class when I could have been safe in the very heated confines of Tremblay. Oh yeah, our heat works now. And might I say, a little too well. I wish the heater would make up its mind about working. So thank you Bard, for classes and a crappy dorm full of assholes.
Bard did shut a few things down, like things we needed. No cafe, no Kline, no green onion, no shuttle. But we STILL HAD CLASS. My dinner last night was chocolate, swedish fish, and wheat thins. My lunch was a microwavable Chef boyardee lasagna (okay, I don't why they call it lasagna, there's no cheese in it!)...so once again, thank you Bard!
and while I was stuck in Tremblay with only reading to occupy my time (oh man, reading about Alexander the Great in 3 different accounts is sucky) the WHOLE WORLD was watching Joe Millionaire. But no, it's Bard's "policy" not to let the students have TV. So everyone knows what happened but me, but dont tell me because my mom taped it for me...so thank you bard, for not giving us a window into to the outside the world. At least they give us pretty crappy internet.
So I just want to say again, thank you Bard for taking my mother's hard earned cash, the money she's been saving up so I could get a decent education...the money she's been making, 15,000 dollars a year, all by herself now for almost 11 years...so her two daughters could go to good schools and grow up to be upstanding citizens.
I just realized something. Today's the 18th. That's the day my father died. 11 years ago. Wow...
Nothing like an awkward ending...
Sunday, February 16, 2003
Me and The Lord
Since the heat in tremblay is apparently broken (once again, i pay 38,000 dollars a year why???) and the temp. outside is a very chilled 10 below, I have decided not to go outside today. My body aches from my 15 bouts at the "River Rat Rumble"..the fencing meet that I went to at Bard's favorite school, Vassar. There I fenced an assortment of people, from jerks (I kicked the jerk's ass) to a girl who looked like she was seven (the little girl kicked my ass). But one sticks out most of all, he was...The Lord. The reason I call him the Lord is that his last name is Lord, and by the way he acts, you would think he was the Lord. He's a cocky fencer (most guy fencers are anyway)...who believes himself to be the God of foil. He's a good fencer, probably the best one they have...but his motions, his flicking technique (i have marks from where he whipped me with his blade)...is just so obnoxious. I got one touch off the Lord...and when I poked him, he raised his other hand in the air to symbolize "one." 5-1...that asshole kicked my ass...but I got a touch off the Lord! That alone made me feel good about myself...stabbing the Lord. I hope he bruises the jerkass.
My valentines' day was good...Trefor and I watched "Road to Bali" starrin Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. Nothing beats early 1950's jokes I don't get. But alas, the movie was good.
A hot or not update: My score has gone down...ehh I'm not depressed. The only girls who get 9.9s are made up sluts. And I am glad to not be a not made up slut. I've met a lot of nice people though...
who knew happiness could come out of a pathetic website...
What an age we live in!
Since the heat in tremblay is apparently broken (once again, i pay 38,000 dollars a year why???) and the temp. outside is a very chilled 10 below, I have decided not to go outside today. My body aches from my 15 bouts at the "River Rat Rumble"..the fencing meet that I went to at Bard's favorite school, Vassar. There I fenced an assortment of people, from jerks (I kicked the jerk's ass) to a girl who looked like she was seven (the little girl kicked my ass). But one sticks out most of all, he was...The Lord. The reason I call him the Lord is that his last name is Lord, and by the way he acts, you would think he was the Lord. He's a cocky fencer (most guy fencers are anyway)...who believes himself to be the God of foil. He's a good fencer, probably the best one they have...but his motions, his flicking technique (i have marks from where he whipped me with his blade)...is just so obnoxious. I got one touch off the Lord...and when I poked him, he raised his other hand in the air to symbolize "one." 5-1...that asshole kicked my ass...but I got a touch off the Lord! That alone made me feel good about myself...stabbing the Lord. I hope he bruises the jerkass.
My valentines' day was good...Trefor and I watched "Road to Bali" starrin Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. Nothing beats early 1950's jokes I don't get. But alas, the movie was good.
A hot or not update: My score has gone down...ehh I'm not depressed. The only girls who get 9.9s are made up sluts. And I am glad to not be a not made up slut. I've met a lot of nice people though...
who knew happiness could come out of a pathetic website...
What an age we live in!
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Fuck you, you shitty holiday!
I hate Valentine's day...and even if I had a boyfriend, I would still hate the holiday more, because I am not romantic. I hate this holiday most of all. I like conversation hearts, but that's all the fucking holiday has going for it.
In the spirit of my loneliness (Alex won't sleep with me because he doesn't want to jeopardize our friendship...hmmm) I put myself on that pathetic website where people all over America rate you on one bad photo (my photo is the one in this very blog) called "Hot or Not". Right now I'm rated a 6.8. I am surprised I would get such a high rating. I never thought myself of as "hot"...only as "not." You can also meet people...and many 'fine young men' have made inquiries on if i'll 'meet them.' The strange part is, most of them are in the military. What the fuck! Do I exude military army whorrishness just through my pose and stance? Did Johnny Garrison send out a memo to Fort Drum? True, they are kind of cute...but I think I'm done with Army guys. Well, we'll see what happens...maybe this is telling me something...that Alex is right. Me, Fort Drum, meatloaf in the oven, chatting on the phone, two children shuffling between my high heel shoes.
Anyway...my play is getting into full swing. I don't have a title...but I plan to incorporate my full life...with sub plots (Annie is actually real, living with Col. Havermeyer in California, where Annie is always disturbed how her husband is turning paler everyday and how he looks likes exactly like this young private named Johnny Garrison...) Alex is in it, Jesse, Braden, my therapist, my mother, the men of my past...the ideas of being watched by a character that isn't real...or is it? I plan to make this play the most fucked up thing I've written...I want the audience to see my confusion, my anger in what I'm trying to do...
sound obsessive?
you bet your bottom dollar!
I hate Valentine's day...and even if I had a boyfriend, I would still hate the holiday more, because I am not romantic. I hate this holiday most of all. I like conversation hearts, but that's all the fucking holiday has going for it.
In the spirit of my loneliness (Alex won't sleep with me because he doesn't want to jeopardize our friendship...hmmm) I put myself on that pathetic website where people all over America rate you on one bad photo (my photo is the one in this very blog) called "Hot or Not". Right now I'm rated a 6.8. I am surprised I would get such a high rating. I never thought myself of as "hot"...only as "not." You can also meet people...and many 'fine young men' have made inquiries on if i'll 'meet them.' The strange part is, most of them are in the military. What the fuck! Do I exude military army whorrishness just through my pose and stance? Did Johnny Garrison send out a memo to Fort Drum? True, they are kind of cute...but I think I'm done with Army guys. Well, we'll see what happens...maybe this is telling me something...that Alex is right. Me, Fort Drum, meatloaf in the oven, chatting on the phone, two children shuffling between my high heel shoes.
Anyway...my play is getting into full swing. I don't have a title...but I plan to incorporate my full life...with sub plots (Annie is actually real, living with Col. Havermeyer in California, where Annie is always disturbed how her husband is turning paler everyday and how he looks likes exactly like this young private named Johnny Garrison...) Alex is in it, Jesse, Braden, my therapist, my mother, the men of my past...the ideas of being watched by a character that isn't real...or is it? I plan to make this play the most fucked up thing I've written...I want the audience to see my confusion, my anger in what I'm trying to do...
sound obsessive?
you bet your bottom dollar!
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Last night, I was Britney Spears
Last night was...interesting. It was a night of dancing, celebration, of painful realizations, and of strange conversation.
Jesse and I danced last night. He was Michael Jackson, complete with hat over Michael Jackson's mutilated face...and I was Britney Spears, glasses off, hair a mess...prancing around in a t-shirt that was entirely too tiny for me. There was something about last night, I really needed some "action" if I can be polite about my sexual advances. Of course, my boyfriend and I are basically on the sexless side (his inexperience and my fear of intimacy and relationships makes it hard to cross into that hot and heavy barrier)...and after I danced with Jesse, I went over to Braden's room and I told him how I felt. We chatted, with long awkward pauses that symbolize our relationship. We worked things out but it left us again single...and both a little depressed, I left his room and left the suite a sad woman.
The only person online to "cheer me up" was the past Drag Race hook up, the "Doin' somethin stupid" boy himself...Sam. Sam's comin to visit in March and told me he'd gladly "calm my animal urges." Now, I don't really know how I feel about that. I was never one to dive into the sack with anyone (if you don't count Johnny, considering that was a bathroom floor)...but sex with Sam at Farm? What would Nathalie say, considering their relationship was always confusing to me...Oh, I remember last year waking up with the christmas lights still on, knowing Nathalie and Sam were tangled in the same sheets in his bed while I was alone in our smelly room. Man, I miss Nathalie.
Today I was reading the Observer and I flipped to the back page to see my cartoon. There I was, "Adventure in Bardland" being manwiched by two Bard men of my past: Braden and Lenny. It made me feel kind of strange that I had hooked up with all the Observer Cartoonists, it made me feel a little on the whorry side...not that I am...well, I don't know. What do you think?
I figured something out about myself while talking to Alex a few days ago: that every guy that was my "sexual first" has been a complete asshole. My first kiss was Ned, and he was a complete asshole...the first guy that felt me up was John and he was a jerk to me...and the list goes on and on. The only person who I count as not a jerk was Peter...which is good because if I lost my virginity to a jerk, I would never forgive myself.
Well everyone, Emily is single again...hmmm...what am I going to do now?
Last night was...interesting. It was a night of dancing, celebration, of painful realizations, and of strange conversation.
Jesse and I danced last night. He was Michael Jackson, complete with hat over Michael Jackson's mutilated face...and I was Britney Spears, glasses off, hair a mess...prancing around in a t-shirt that was entirely too tiny for me. There was something about last night, I really needed some "action" if I can be polite about my sexual advances. Of course, my boyfriend and I are basically on the sexless side (his inexperience and my fear of intimacy and relationships makes it hard to cross into that hot and heavy barrier)...and after I danced with Jesse, I went over to Braden's room and I told him how I felt. We chatted, with long awkward pauses that symbolize our relationship. We worked things out but it left us again single...and both a little depressed, I left his room and left the suite a sad woman.
The only person online to "cheer me up" was the past Drag Race hook up, the "Doin' somethin stupid" boy himself...Sam. Sam's comin to visit in March and told me he'd gladly "calm my animal urges." Now, I don't really know how I feel about that. I was never one to dive into the sack with anyone (if you don't count Johnny, considering that was a bathroom floor)...but sex with Sam at Farm? What would Nathalie say, considering their relationship was always confusing to me...Oh, I remember last year waking up with the christmas lights still on, knowing Nathalie and Sam were tangled in the same sheets in his bed while I was alone in our smelly room. Man, I miss Nathalie.
Today I was reading the Observer and I flipped to the back page to see my cartoon. There I was, "Adventure in Bardland" being manwiched by two Bard men of my past: Braden and Lenny. It made me feel kind of strange that I had hooked up with all the Observer Cartoonists, it made me feel a little on the whorry side...not that I am...well, I don't know. What do you think?
I figured something out about myself while talking to Alex a few days ago: that every guy that was my "sexual first" has been a complete asshole. My first kiss was Ned, and he was a complete asshole...the first guy that felt me up was John and he was a jerk to me...and the list goes on and on. The only person who I count as not a jerk was Peter...which is good because if I lost my virginity to a jerk, I would never forgive myself.
Well everyone, Emily is single again...hmmm...what am I going to do now?
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