outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- whatcha gonna do? Very quiet day. It's nearly four, and I've been at work for nearly eight hours, but I'll be here another four. Not that I'm complaining; it's my own choice. I'll get to start my four-day weekend early on Thursday at noon. Wwwwoooooooooo! (now I want you to read that by enunciating all the w's, making the woo come out slowly but deliberately, for that is how I've written it) I was having nightmares this morning at about quarter past five. Ah! I've just remembered the jist of the dream, it was that my father had broken into my apartment (that it was my father was not horrific, but that there'd been a break in was) and my dog was running toward three children who could not be exposed to any kind of germs or they'd die. The dog finally turned around and I picked her up thinking we were safe, but the kids kept running toward her, so the finale of the dream was my running and screaming "Nooooo!" at the top of my lungs. I woke up and all the muscles in my neck were tense, and I remember thinking "now that's not healthy". I also thought, maybe I was having this anxiety dream because I'd heard someone break into my apartment, and someone was there in the room with me, or about to come through the door. I kept thinking that maybe this was the universe's way of warning me and telling me I better call 911 or something. I had to repeatedly assure myself that the fact that I was dreaming was not evidence that I could tell the future. I so have to coddle myself when I'm asleep. I think I understand the break in part of the dream -- a woman came through my front door and knocked on the inner door on Saturday night. When I opened it, she was shocked that she was in the wrong place, and kept saying "I'm sowwy hunny! I'm so sowwy! Oh, I'm sowwy. I thought this was...I'll go. I'm sowwy." It was pretty weird, but you know why it was bad? Because she came right through the first door, and I opened the second one for her. She could have been anybody. Sure, I had been expecting my friend and thought the woman was she, but christ, I've got to be more careful. You can't see anything in my apartment from the street, and no one would ever know if I was having a problem. Now the dog running toward the germphobic children, I have no idea where I got that from. Maybe it was a The Others flashback, of sorts. I don't think I've ever experienced my safety's feeling so threatened as I have since I've been living in this city. Am I really in any more danger walking home at night here than I was walking home at night through the desert? Am I any more likely to be attacked than I was crossing Mount Holyoke's campus in the dead of winter when no one was around? I have no idea, I don't think there's really any way of knowing that. What I do know, is that it's never happened, one way or the other. Yet the feeling of imminent danger is strong here. Yes I realize that it's mind over matter -- the feeling comes from within, not without. But I have to wonder: when I leave here, will my sense of security return? That's not the only thing that's changed about me since I've come here. I don't like a lot of what I've become since entering into this situation. Because of the fear, I've become anti-social, suspicious, untrusting, hateful, hidden. Because of work, I've become quiet, docile, spineless, flat, boring. There's no one to talk to, I don't have any friends, I don't like the people who surround me, I'm afraid of being alone with anyone. I don't know anyone's names, and they don't know mine, and we don't care about each other, and we don't mean anything to each other. Things have never, ever been this way for me. But will they be different when I leave? Ok, I'll give you my best guess: yes. When I left for college for the first time, I got to reinvent myself. (I became "Jessie", if you missed that part of the story.) When I went to Arizona, I made myself even better, dropped a heap of inhibitions, opened up to everyone, soaked up the joie de vivre. I can do that again, with a new school, a new town, new people. And some old and very dear friends. I can't blame you if you're asking, "well why didn't you do that when you came to Cambridge?" I was just asking myself the same question. There were a few factors. For one, I was the new girl. Everyone else had been here several years; it was the "new student" syndrome. I've been the new student before, quite a few times, and always reacted to it the same way: by being quiet and observant and working my way in slowly. I've been here a year a half now; I'm in, but "in" wasn't really any place to be. Another thing was, I was terrifically afraid of the city, and it was winter, which compounds the fear because it stays dark longer. I was alone in this place that terrified me. Didn't feel safe at home, didn't feel comfortable at work. And finally, I was miserable. My parents hated me, my family was disjointed about the situation, and all my friends were too far away to help. I was very lonely. I was very down. I must admit, I don't think I've made a very good impression on Cambridge. You know what felt really good? When I was in California, talking to the director at Astrocamp, she mentioned that some of the schools want you to not talk about evolution, but rather creationism. "I will not teach creationism," I said. Will not. A statement of principle. When's the last time I've made one of those? To a prospective boss, no less? Ahhhhh. I don't regret the time I've spent here, not exactly. I won't look back on it terribly fondly, but there's plenty a take-home lesson here. To wit: the money won't make you happy if the job makes you miserable. Don't live in a place where you can't find any joy. Surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Be willing to take a cab if you're not comfortable walking in the dark. You know. That sort of thing. I love you guys. *kiss* 3:53 p.m. - 2002-10-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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