Tuesday, January 25, 2005

once you were in my rearview mirror

I just ate the most stale Triscuit ever. I must be really hungry.

Last night, I did something I've avoided for about six months now. I deleted all answering machine messages from Q. I don't know why I had held onto them for so long. I have two or three messages from a friend who lives in Europe, because they're long and rambling and charming, just like him, and it makes me feel like he's closer by when I listen to them. I have a drunken message from A on New Year's Eve, screaming raucously at 9pm PST. It amuses on some level, so I haven't trashed that one either. But I don't know what compelled me to keep these Q messages. Whenever his voice has gotten as far as saying "Hey" on the message, my finger rushes to push past the message. My stomach turns, and I get something akin to an asthma attack. So yesterday, I finally gave myself the beatdown I needed, the voice inside my head yelling there is no reason for this crap to still be on your machine, press delete, press delete, press delete... what did I say??!!?? What did I just say to you?!? Press delete, damnit.

It was an interesting change. Usually, when I'm feeling down in the dumps about one thing in life, I like to wallow in all of the other things that have gone awry. So my natural inclination should have been to listen to the answering machine on repeat, or worse yet, call (cringe) Q for another round of blues. But last night, my friend S gave me the emotional kick in the pants I needed. I was dumbfounded by disappointment last night, I was musing to S about how dumbfounded I was, and she was not having any of it. Even though it's some times nice when friends coddle me and give me the old pat on the back, it's equally nice and, more importantly, essential that good friends get fed up and give me a stern cease-whiner. S was not allowing for any defeatist 'tude last night. She was relentless with her lack of pity, and I am the better for it. I don't need a lot of friends. I just need a few tough ones, like S.

In completely unrelated news, this flagrant display of bullshit bad taste and racism makes my head want to explode. To quote REM and KRS-One: "DJ SUCKS!".

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