outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pure Procrastination I'm lucky, and I'll tell you why: my mind is reasonably unfettered. I don't suffer from Christian guilt, from white guilt, from sexual guilt, from female guilt...I'm sure there must be some unidentified harmful concepts lurking in there from my formative years, but for the most part, I've gotten off easy. And, to further magnify my good-fortune, so has Rob. What should we do with this bonanza of freedom? And who do we have to thank for it? Our parents, in part, although, knowing our parents, it is hard to believe that we left their grasp untainted. Our parents are good people, no question, but their beliefs, and obligation to extend them to their children, would lead you to expect a quite different outcome. I can't speak for Rob here, but I owe some gratitude for my education outside of my parents' house, as well as my own rejection of myriad things that are understood as simple fact in my family. I wonder though, how much I had to do with it. I have seen people who have done it much the same way I have, who are never able to overcome the influence the original beliefs have on them. Well anyway, what else is happening? It's almost quarter past one, and I still haven't signed on to chat. That's the only way to do it, because once I get on, it's impossible for me to leave, unless I'm about to be fired, have my bladder explode, or go home. I blame it on the incredible discussions we've been having lately. Tonight I'm meeting Anna for drinks and something yummy. This pleases me in a way only doing something social without Rob can. Besides which, it's going to be fun. Someday, will I teach science in a public high school? Will I found a gay/lesbian/allies club there? And now, for the real question: what kind of club will it be? Just a comfortable place for kids to hang out and enjoy their unity? Or should I become licensed as a counselor and make it a help group? I suppose it could be both. Yeah, why not? But I don't want the kids to feel obliged to have problems before they join. Why would I do this in a public school but not a private one? I wouldn't. I would do it for either. But public schools need the haven more, in my opinion. Or maybe it's not my opinion, maybe it's fact. God, so hard to tell these days. My teeth still hurt. I don't know if it's lingering cleaning pain, or foreboding Bad Things to Come pain. Reading things about the world makes me want to pack up and run away, but there's nowhere to run to. I have no choice but to stand here and fight, but there's no one to fight. Sometimes, religion is an excuse. Did you ever notice that? Sometimes religion is a front for our feelings of vengeance. But anyway. Jessie! Get your Jessie here! Pretty affordable, doesn't ask for much! Put her up in a shack on the top of a mountain, and she'll be happy! Employ her mind rather than her ability to memorize routine tasks, and she'll love you forever! Educate her and expand her horizons, and she'll shower you with devotion and loyalty! Rats. No takers. And still no word on the Biosphere TA situation, which for all intents and purposes I *should* have given up on by now, but haven't. Meredith was supposed to hear this week if she got her job. It's two o'clock on Friday, and she hasn't heard, as far as I know. True, it's only noon in Arizona, but it's Friday there too. No recent word on Albeche's desire to fight scorpions in the wild west. What's the scoop, bro? Jessie, in the mean time, tries to resign herself to the thought of sitting at this desk for the next nine months, and falls just short of doing so. All hope must be dashed before she can move on. Those of you who know her, have probably discovered that about her. New Invader Zim tonight. I must end my quest for pretty things with ample time to see the show. I will put one small stipulation on the quest: please find one, just one, dress you can wear. Preferrably, ooh! Preferrably one that can double as an Easter dress. Why no, I *don't* have anything to wear this Easter, and thank you for asking. I'm petting my mouse. My molded plastic mouse that has no nerve center or feelings of any kind. What is the matter with me. Dammit, since when is "it feels good" a reasonable excuse? It's really two now. My work here is done. I can get on chat now. My money's on my still being there when four o'clock rolls around. 1:02 p.m. - 2002-03-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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