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Queen Jane Approximately

June 9th, 2013

(no subject) @ 06:39 pm

I think I have made some progress in framing things about what happened earlier this year.

I have a natural gift of sensitivity and emotional perceptiveness, that I have honed over the years. It is not a bad thing, generally. That being said, this ability does not always serve me well. I have a bit of a fatal attraction to needy people, because feeling needed makes me feel important. Helping you deal with your stuff earlier this year filled that need in me. However, as we both saw, that dynamic only led to unhappiness on my part.

I was wanting a partner who was supportive of me, and who wanted to share their life with me, but instead I found someone falling on me. You were genuinely in need of someone to catch you in your fall, but it was too much for me to handle. When we broke up, and you basically said that you never wanted me for who I was, only who I was not, and the role my affection played in bolstering your weak ego, it was utterly crushing. You still think this way, and it still sort of makes me mad.

Retroactively, the best I can do is to assume that whatever I have given, taken done or or not done, was of my own volition. And you had a role in my own journey, my own arc. So think what you wish, but however you want to contain your experience of me, you will not succeed. The best thing you can do is to treat me as someone who has always had agency, who is not defined my my feelings, and who is continuing to evolve.

There is part of me that still wants your validation, still wants to feel important, because of my role in your journey. I've realized over the past few days that this is my challenge, the key element of *my* quest. Your validation might make me feel better, but I don't need it.

August 30th, 2011

(no subject) @ 07:36 pm

I don't really feel sad, just a little lonely.
I wish that he hadn't re-started things this summer. I don't really want to be with him, what with his rather giant existential issues. Get thy head screwed on straight, young man. He has the mentality of a 17 year old in the sex department. I guess it is a little flattering to feel like some sort of vixen (especially given how insecure I actually feel about my appearance). I have been considering getting botox, for crying out loud. I feel like I am growing old and it is obvious.

Good things: we are OUT of mercury in retrograde.
I am not responsible for the boy's marriage, his sexual satisfaction, or his mortal soul. I am not responsible for keeping him on the straight and narrow. He is not my problem. I might miss his company, but I do *not* have any desire to carry around his guilt. Thank god I made him break up with me, because it really was untenable. He's such a smart guy that it is hard to recognize that he can be SO stupid about how he runs his personal life. I don't have to be trapped by his incredible wishy-washiness, and his inability to make choices that are consistent with his values.

March 3rd, 2009

(no subject) @ 11:58 pm

So I was reading old entries in this journal. I kinda like my writing style from 2 years ago--witty!--even if I had an unenlightened approach to my personal life. We are our own best audience, I suppose.

Maybe I'll take up this journal again. It's nice to have a record of one's little thoughts.

September 27th, 2007

(no subject) @ 08:13 pm

I am feeling uber stressed what with a number of major life changes. New city, new school, new job, new weather, new people.

I love my apartment, except for the fact that it has been ridiculously difficult to get anything delivered here. The intercoms are connected to phone numbers, but only work with local numbers, which I don't yet have. I have a bed on order that I have been yearning for for weeks. My building manager kindly lent me an air matress that I've been sleeping on, although I find air matresses to be pretty uncomfortable as long term sleeping solutions. Part of these delivery woes are my doing, since I decided to get a double bed after having ordered a single bed--my apartment is small, but beds are important. So there was massive confusion with the Fed Ex delivery. I realized only today that the second bed I ordered isn't even being shipped via Fed Ex--this was only after waiting all day for the Fed Ex man to deliver the wrong bed! I feel like I'm in some sort of Kafka parable, where you spend your time trying to navigate some sort of opaque bureacracy--with the goal perpetually just out of sight and ultimately unachievable.

School is okay. A part of me wonders why I am still in class-shouldn't I be doing something else with my time, already? But I think I just need to settle in the routine--and once I feel like I can get some proper sleep, I'll be able to focus a bit better.

August 30th, 2007

me and maria sharapova @ 12:25 am

We have a lot in common, aside from stature at the top of women's tennis and our dazzling amazon- like good looks.

Apparently we have similar taste in "indie folk" music. Some of her favorites: M. Ward, Andrew Bird, Gary Jules, Mat Kearney, Augustana...have never heard of the last 3--maybe I should check them out.

August 14th, 2007

(no subject) @ 03:29 pm

I going apartment searching in Seattle on Thurs. I have allotted four days to the task.

This is an author I'm curious about

August 13th, 2007

August 9th, 2007

Outdoor Dinners by Charles Harper @ 03:47 pm

Outdoor Dinners by Charles Harper
Originally uploaded by nofi.

i have a sudden urge to paper my walls in the whimsical drawings of charles harper


August 7th, 2007

July 29th, 2007

(no subject) @ 12:03 am

my lord. my master's project (due in June, but only nearly complete now), has nearly plunged me into (localized) obsessive compulsive disorder. The level of detail and tedium required for nearly every step of the project exceeds that of virtually any other endeavor I've been a part of. Aaah. Even my advisor, Mr. Anal Retentive, is like, "Jane, please finish this! You should be spending your summer reading stat theory papers."

I went with Robin and her friend from home to the Malibu Creek swimming hole that H. and I discovered a month ago. It's quite the hangout. We set up our towels near a group of tatooed latino men kicking back as their wives and toddlers bathed in the green water. We encountered the local chapter of the cliff-diving society--and witnessed a heck of a lot of people jumping off cliffs 30 feet above the surface of the water. I was convinced someone was going to crack their head on the rocks before hitting the surface, but everyone survived.

Queen Jane Approximately