day 12 of quarantine. . .I am going a bit insane.
I've been back at work where I can be masked and seperate from others, especially since I'm not longer symptomatic and I need to make money. I'm not sure if my managers would even care if I were unmasked and symptomatic as long as they wouldn't have to find coverage for me. how depressing. my boss scolded me for not being the best at customer service and never once asked me if I was okay from having COVID. I actually hate her. she just went to Hawaii with her daughters for a week, her third vacation this year. I recieved no money from the shifts I lost from calling out for being sick. she's a fucking parasite on society. I thought the previous sentence I typed out was quite cruel but I really do feel it, so whatever. here's to eight hour shifts with not a single break or even a disgusting fucking step stool to sit on for a brief moment. I grow paranoid they'll fire me one day, but if they did, it'd almost be a relief. then I'd remember the cost of living nowadays. I'm hoping to finally test negatively by monday night so I can finally see M again. she came by a day or two ago just to wave through the door, but we actually ended up talking through the door for forty five minutes. we were both masked and she had to sit in the burning august midday sun on the top step to my townhouse and basically shout through the closed door to hear each other. it actually meant so much to me. it was so inconvinent for her, but I guess she meant it when she said she missed me. it was so hard not to open the door and climb all over her and kiss her until we couldn't breathe anymore. but that's why I'm hoping to be free finally finally finally on monday night. I'd have to rush home to work that tuesday night, but we could at least be all over each other late into the morning that same day.
I used to be so much better at this and I think I need to get back to my old ways because I've seriously been losing it lately.
"...No, I don’t keep a list, can’t hold a grudge
Don’t you think that we both might’ve done some growing up?"
it's been such a long time since I last wrote an entry on here. sometimes I read my old entries, and I can't believe how much I shared willingly on the internet. but that's the thing about neocities. it doesn't feel like the actual internet, or I guess like, "social media." but it's still a social media is some ways. people I used to know in real life used to have access to this account, but then I started really liking sharing everything about how I was feeling in that moment too much. and in a strange way, I really like that someone, or maybe multiple people, read these entries, but people I absolutely don't know at all. why would I share so much if no one was going to read it? I've spent so much of my time on internet reading strangers' thoughts and feelings and blog posts. at the most basic level, I think it's the fact that other people's thoughts can feel so resonant with your own. whenever someone shares something you can relate to it feels so good, and sometimes it's even better if you have no real connection. I'm not super good at offering up information about myself in person, or so I'm told. I'm not quite a closed book... but I definitely know I possess somewhat of a mysterious aura. maybe it comes from years of actually being shy, but I like the way people react to you when you withhold and observe (not straight out staring, but I know people can tell I pay attention. if the person I'm talking to can't notice that, they're usually kind of full of themselves anyway.)
I feel like my first paragraph back in my digital HTML journal sounds insane. but that's also what I love about this space. I can just type whatever I want. and ever since I set up my PC on the desk W built me, I can type super fast on a satisfying clunky keyboard, like those I used to have to practice typing on when my high school offered "Typing" as one of my electives. what a strange class, it probably doesn't exist anymore, too. it felt like an outdated class when I took it. and the teacher was super sterotypically mean, but she was a cunt in a fabulous kind of way. I just put this desk back together during my COVID QUARANTINE because I got COVID FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME! the living room where its housed was torn apart at first because we had lead paint on the walls (lol) so they had to repaint our whole place. it was sort of a pain, but we got rid of our ratty futon. I first coded this whole site on that disgusting piece of furniture, all slumped and stoned after coming home from Starbucks. it differently should've been burned, but it went to the dump instead. and now we're learning just how hard getting a couch back in here really is. I wanted a used worn leather one at first because I think they're comfortable and easy to clean and my cat doesn't really scratch anything but his favorite post. and if he scratched it a little I wouldn't really mind. but they're all either super expensive anyway, or they won't fit through our tiny fucking door frame because all the homes in this city tend to be very narrow. we already have to haul it up a flight of stairs with a super small turn. oh well. I really miss having a couch. it's such a central part of a living space. you want somewhere you can lounge besides your bed, especially with other people when they want to come over. sitting in front of the televison monitor in the rocking chair (W also built) is kind of funny, but for long movies, I start to wish I was on my side instead.
the quarantine is... still going. at this point last week we were with our friends playing a tabletop RPG. I didn't want to go out that night, but I still did anyways to say bye to a...friend of a friend. she's headed up to her government weapon building engineering job. yeah. so I should've stayed at home, especially because I woke up in my friend's spare bed with the worst sore throat I've had in a while. by nighttime, I was shivering in my bed with the realization that I'd finally been caught. it was the sickest I've ever been as an adult. I actually remember quite fondly the first time I bought cough syrup for myself--when I was a freshman in NYC. the next was when I had COVID as a 22 year old. I was bad for a few nights before getting better, and I finally went back to work because I'm only covered for five days if I get better. I'm always masked anyways, and I get to stay to myself in a corner most of the time. but I miss seeing my friends, which I won't let myself do I'm still testing positive. so many adults in my life try to tell me the wrong information, that it's okay if I'm not actually sick anymore, that it's only for a few days. but I don't know, I'd rather have my time back with my friends be one where I'm not worried if I'm passing something that could kill them. especially since I was really the last person a lot of people knew who got sick last, it'd be a repeat infection. I'm hoping to see M tuesday, on their first day off this week, but that'll only be seven days since I was symptomatic and I'll probably still be positive :( if not, I can try for thursday. I tried not to be too hard on myself for not doing anything during my quarantine, which I have I guess in retrospect. besides being literally bed bound for a few days, I've done housekeeping, but in the actual apartment, and in my life (school and medical stuff.) I put a lot of my things back, the apartment is in decent shape. it really just needs a couch.
I decided to take up writing in my journal again because I really need an outlet. my senior year at undergrad is coming up, and I know my thesis film won't be the best thing I ever make (hopefully) but I still want to be proud of it for a long time. I keep throwing ideas around in my mind like playdough in sweaty kid hands. in my heart of hearts, the most delusional I can bring myself to be, I try and convince myself I'll find and apply and get a grant for some actual analog filmmaking. but it's probably not going to happen. I can't find anything, I feel like I don't try enough, and I'll be so fucking sad if I get rejected after doing hard work over and over again. but after taking the 16mm filmmaking class last spring, I just can't help but wish I could shoot my thesis on film. one of my new life best friends, R, who I only started being close to after she invited me to spend new years with her somewhat randomly this past january, took that class with me and shot her thesis on film. she made an amazing film, which she pulled together only in the spring, so I wonder what could happen if I could plan for the WHOLE YEAR? I don't know. I try not to be too idealistic. I'll probably shoot it digital but still try and find a lens that makes it feel like film. okay, ok well I know that that's literally fucking impossible, but I'll resign to a really good digital image. I don't know if I'll really incorporate any of the video art techniques I've been obsessed with in the past year. I wish I would find someone to write me a blank check to Kodak for ten grand. I would make it so worth it. (I would make films about my childhood. not directly, maybe. once you realize all movies are just people with impressions from the past that have changed them for good and forever, they make a little more sense.)
I also read my last entry to see where I was in life sixteen months ago. not too different, but also there are very big holes in my life now. they kind of dictate the narrative of my whole "young adult" schtick I'm doing recently. okay, okay I'll just say it, yes robi is not in my life forever and ever now. the day after my birthday (the day I schedueled a four wisdom tooth extraction this year) we had our final conversation. it's been such a long, winding path since I last walked away from him. I'm pretty sure he hates my guts. I used to hate my guts a lot this past year. in fact, I spent a lot--A LOT--of this past year drinking. I drank so much more after him. I still do, but I'm seriously trying to cut back. I haven't had a drink in over a week, but that is thanks to COVID. nothing sounds appealing to really consume anymore. I smoke less weed, but I am high right now. that was mostly for preserving my throat. I actually don't have a last cough surprisingly. I've put my lung through hell. and I think I also put robi through hell. admittedly, he did, too. but that's a newer realization that I've come around to in a circle. I used to talk about his faults when we were together, and then never again for a year. I still understand why I can't be in his life anymore. I knew beforehand that it was going to be too much, the way I live my stupid life. never have your first girlfriend be one who has to always be with others. he'd tell me sometimes he wishes it was just me and him, no W. I used to want it too, actually. there's a lot to say about this but all I want to say now is that I've moved on because I'm in love with someone else now (how predictable) whose unlike anyone I ever met. but I also obviously fucking haven't moved on. he spoke to me in a language I'd never understood with anyone else. I ache for him whether I like it or not. at two AM a few weeks ago, someone sent me any anonymous message on a tumblr blog only he knew about. "God u really r pathetic," it read. I almost hoped it was him. I talked a lot about our breakup on there after he blocked me on everything. I really hoped it was him. being in love again is fun, because this time, instead of a pisces, I chose a cancer.