ok.. once again, it’s time to worry about my future. ::sigh:: the market is currently shitty as hell. i am interviewing with one company in seattle (the company of trouble making companies). i can’t guarantee that i will get a job there but the probability is high. they wanted to hire me two years ago and i am applying for similar jobs with more education and knowledge so i would say that looks good. i haven’t bothered to interview with other companies. ideally, i would like to go to grad school for my PhD but i don’t know where or with whom i want to work so applying seems awefully silly. plus, i need to take the GREs now and i am not ready for that. and i can’t afford to do grad school without a stipend and that’s not ready, particularly since i don’t know what i want to do. so i think that getting a job makes a hell of a lot of sense. now, i would really like to live in San Francisco and hope to get a job there. but reality says that i want a stable job, a liveable income (that will even let me take a dent into my debt), health insurance and a reasonable job. i can probably get all of that in Seattle, but i don’t know about SF. if i pursue the job in Seattle, i will have two weeks post offer to accept or deny it. i don’t know what exists in SF and i am afraid to look right now because of the market. so then the question becomes…

do i try to go for the job in Seattle or do i hold off on it and pray that i will find something in SF?

ah.. parties are fun. every time i come back from a break of partying, i remember how much i adore it.. so, i went to NYC this weekend, did the danceydancey thing and just shook my booty for hours amongst good people in a weird place ($4 a bottle of water, no tap, no bathroom water.. grr..) one DJ spun “Give Peace a Chance” for 12 minutes at the Daylight Savings Time which made me quite happy, particularly amongst such an international crowd still so shook up from 9/11. i have also been having a fabulous time getting to know this small crew of folks up in Boston called the Hartley House.. very chill people. in particular, this one kid A reminds me of friends back home.. and it’s fun, a reality check to see the level of privilege i have managed to acquire over the years… damn that’s a needed reality check.

then on Sunday, i went to J & L’s benefit for work – the AIDS project in RI.. it was really cool to see all the gay boys shaking it down, enjoying life and whatnot.. of course, it was unbelievable to see my friends, but that’s a given…

ah yes, it feels good to be living life again rather than just observing it.

i know that i should be nice to my body because in theory that would mean that it would be nice back. but i am too annoyed with it so i have no desire to be nice to it and the catch-22 has led down a pretty bad path and now we are at a complete showdown. i am thinking of one more weekend of cruelty and then i will try to be nice.. it’s just so expensive to be nice. not like it’s cheap to be mean, but still. ::sigh::

ok. so i went out last nite to celebrate a friend’s birthday. just like last week, the guest of honor got to choose the dancing environment and she chose salsa (she is, afterall, from Brazil). i was more than psyched to try to learn this dancing, and there was to be a class beforehand to teach us all. i was also told that i would need to dress up a bit to get in and i decided to go girly for her and another friend. boy did i feel uncomfortable. usually, when i do girly, it’s not a big deal that i still walk like a boy and have pink hair and whatever. but not at this place. it was overtly gendered – men had to have collars to get in, women were a bit more relaxed, but the only girls in pants were in our group and everyone at the bar was wearing super high feminine clothing. the place was full of airs. there was only one way to dance (and i didn’t know how to dance in the “correct” way and learning made me feel stupid and stared at). sure, my friends were there, and they were fabulous – such sweethearts. but i just couldn’t get comfortable in a place like that..

i really do despise places that regulate one’s fashion so vigilantly, both by kicking people out for “inappropriate clothing” and by social status/glares. this isn’t just a straight thing. i remember going to hear a band this summer with a friend. it was a punk dyke thing and everyone dressed for the occasion – in almost matching punk dyke clothing. my poor friend, such a high femme, was the only girl in a dress and it was obvious that she was “weird.”

clothing can be so limiting. sure, it conveys the groups you associate with, but at the same time, when those groups require you to wear that gear to “fit in” alternative clothing becomes restricting. and what is the point of that? i find it just all too depressing.

i’ve decided that this getting older thing just outright sucks. every year i gain more knowledge, more awareness of history, a greater ability to sense what is going on, a stronger understanding of myself and my weaknesses. but to what avail? how is this really helpful? really – it makes me feel more useless and bitter, angry, lonely and depressed. the path to enlightenment surely cannot be through knowledge in any way shape or form.

i am fascinated by how we think that we can feel better. money? drugs? knowledge? materialism? spirituality? power? very peculiar opiates, really. and not particularly useful for any long period of time. i always love movies that remind me that having things doesn’t fix anything, because it’s really easy to think that it might in the american capitalist culture… makes me love the “Traffic” esque movies..

speaking of which – isn’t it about time to start having good cynical movies coming out in time for the big awards?

erg. how can i lose all forms of motivation in one quick foul sweep. i was trying to get ready, planning on going to the gym, an art opening, meeting with a friend and then going out to a dinner event and party afterwards. i had already failed to wake up for my breakfast meeting with two friends who i haven’t seen in months (one was only in town for 12 hours) because i managed to sleep through their 5 phone calls. i fucked around on email, purchased a few more books, redyed my hair. talked to my mom – pleasant conversation. so i was running late, no big deal. got into the shower and lost all motivation to go anywhere. decided to skip the gym, skip the art show and meet up with my friend as the next leaving house motivation. but have also managed to slump into a state, a not-so-great state. stupid, eh?

part of that is because i have been waiting for two friends to call me back all week. and they haven’t. i just feel so distanced from people right now. i keep trying to tell myself that it will be alright, and that i should learn not to be dependent, but it’s still depressing. i miss having deep connections, deep trust. and it constantly returns me to that question of what’s the point? that’s been emerging more and more as i have been getting more and more discontent with the state of things, both personally and externally.

i had a really funny conversation with my roommate the other day, about the purpose of life in our current culture, why love/passion cannot be maintained eternally and what that means when marriage becomes about supporting children and expected power relations get destroyed. so, when one doesn’t want to be a part of the procreation system, what’s the point of marriage? and is it possible to maintain a deep bond when you don’t have responsibilities like children? now, given all of this, what’s the point of life? other than reproduction, there are a few options. have fun, save the world. the first one requires elimination of depression. ha! the second requires how, and is it possible? i have become exceptionally negativistic regarding saving humanity in any form. i just don’t think it’s possible. i don’t believe in religion (another to-live-for option) and i don’t think that people are inherently good or that i have the power to make things better for any masses. the other option, in the kurzweil-ian sense is to create machines to replace us – force darwinian-esque fates. i just can’t get behind that. so then, what’s the point of life? it becomes a very negative question with a lot more negative feelings about uselessness.

poor b got really angry with me last week when i brought up the reality that i plan on taking my own life when things stopped being fun. no, things haven’t stopped being fun, but i am beginning to see less and less of a point to existing. as i can see it, the only point in being alive right now is to just try to have fun. problem is that i have a conscience which means i can’t do it at others’ expenses and with the way the world works, having fun without affecting others negatively is rather difficult. so i keep thinking that maybe there is a way to change the world for the good. so i end up being lost and confused. ::sigh:: erg. stupid depression shit.

well, i got dragged to lansdowne street to celebrate a friend’s birthday. i am still surprised with my patience to deal with that environment. it was some jazz bar and upon entrance, the first song they started singing was “i’m proud to be an american.” two of my friends had to restrain me from leaving immediately. but it turned out to be ok. the folks i was with consisted of my entire group from the lab, minus our professor, and a couple of friends of various people in the group. pretty entertaining crowd, particularly because everyone was TRASHED. well, the alcohol brought out the drama. two group members started getting it on, making another person in the group awefully jealous. another picked up some guys from the financial district because she wanted to avoid the first three. i turned into a slight mommy, even though i was hammered. a couple of guys grabbed me and i gave them evil looks – oh, how i loathe the suits without their jackets at a bar like this. the girls at the bar with their beaufont hairdoos glared at me in the bathroom. i made friends with the bartender because he pointed out that “we are on the same team.” ::laugh:: he was a trip and a half really, another financial guy who worked in the bar on fridays because he enjoyed the absurdity. we had a good time teasing one another. i was even able to take his stupid comments with immense humor – telling me that i had to stop dancing with the girls in my group because it was a family establishment and shit. he was really alright though.

another thing – living in environments like that is *fucking* expensive. holy shit. $1 T there, $7 entrance, $5 drinks, $12 cab to food, $8 food, $15 cab back to lab. fuck. i guess it’s why that street is filled with ibankers. ::sigh::

so i decided to forgo the gym today and go dancing. i knew that the music wasn’t going to be as good as it was on sunday but i also knew that a kid i know would be there and would be quite entertaining to dance with. and i was right in that assumption – he’s a trip and a half and i utterly enjoy being stupid dancing with him. unlike sunday, this scene was much more of a bar scene – people trying to pick each other up and whatnot. but i just ignored it, ignored being groped and just danced and danced.. definitely needed. being able to move makes me feel good.

Paul Auster spoke at Harvard tonite, so i went to see him. i am fascinated with him, mostly through his relationship with Sophie Calle, who i learned about at MassMoCA with a few partners in crime. he’s kinda fascinating – focused on how an individual can be conveyed through text. his latest work, “I thought my father was god” is a collection of other people’s real life stories that he collected while working on an NPR show telling the stories of real live people. he collected over 4000 stories, but only 180 of them are in the book.

it’s pretty entertaining as a concept – showing that everyone has a voice and a story to tell, that we are all storytellers at heart. so, for his book talk tonite, he actually brought along 5 of the authors who were from the area, asking them to tell their stories. it was the first time he met them in real life, but anyhow.. so, he was interviewed for about 10 minutes about the purpose of the book (by another NPR person) and then the 5 authors told their 1-2 page stories, a mixture of emotions. it was cute, but i really wanted to hear more about Paul Auster, and how his mind works.. oh well. next time.

so, i got him to sign my notebook on the way out – an orderly organized procession where people didn’t talk to the author. but when i arrived up front, i told him that i blamed him for my latest speeding ticket. he looked up, surprised, and i told him how driving cross country, we didn’t turn off the light in the car so that we could finish his book.. and that i couldn’t see a cop as a result and got caught doing 85. he just looked at me funny. ::sigh::

oh.. and really, he’s as scary looking in real life as in person. but he doesn’t seem to have a scary personality, only a scary image. he just seems like a writer, focused inward and rather non-social. i guess that’s just normal, right?

had one of those silly thoughts today. Walking home from the gym, i was damning my right knee for hurting so badly. Sure, i knew why it hurt – i went dancing incessently the night before, bouncing around with a kid i know, acting like i was still invincible. But why just my right knee?

And then it dawned on me – sports! Sure, i only was in ballet for like a week (ok. that’s a lie.. fuck off). But more importantly i played soccer and which leg was my kicking leg? Or what about javelin, discus, marching band (funny quad movements for sideways behavior). Somehow, i think that my right leg learned to be always facing outwards, always at a slight angle.

So, if i force myself to stop walking like a duck and make my toes point straight, things don’t hurt as much. Now, how can i retrain my legs?