Tomorrow I will be leaving for Bonnaroo with my boyfriend, one of my best friends, and one of her best friends. It will be a life-changing experience.



I...
Can't...
Wait.

BONNAROO!

Life and Death

I considered my mortality today. I went out with my wonderful friend Elizabeth today to take pictures. She's somewhat of an amateur photographer, so I went with her today to a very old cemetery in town to take pictures. She got this queasy feeling after a while and just didn't feel right being there. As I was walking around sort of on my own, it just didn't seem like there were hundreds of human bodies underneath my feet. I knew there were, but without seeing it it was just hard to imagine. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't care after I was dead if people were walking on top of my grave (although I'd prefer cremation) because my body wouldn't mean anything to the world. It was just a shell for a brain, for knowledge, for energy necessary to set my hands and mind in motion while I was alive. Not that the bodies of the dead shouldn't be revered and respected, I'm not saying to jump up and down and dig them up and hold fiestas on top of them. All I'm saying is that I don't mind what's done with my body once my soul is done using it. Cut it up for science. Bury it. Cremate it. I don't care. Just don't treat it like a living thing anymore; it'll be useless to this world once my energy leaves it.

There's another thought I've been mulling over for several months now- what is a life? Where did it come from? Where did it ALL come from? I've been beginning to think that maybe there isn't so much of a divine creator as much as there is this large, unifying energy that we're all created from and return to once life leaves our earthly bodies. But then again, maybe all God is essentially is a big ball of energy that he can direct portions of to whatever he wishes.

Deep.

Once again, I've gotten off the phone with my boyfriend wanting to throw it across the room, hoping for it to smash to bits. He was telling me a story, and I accidentally ruined it by making a comment about it during the middle of it. Well, he got really upset and wouldn't finish the story and then said he had to go. Once again I'm left feeling dejected and as if the stupid bickering we've been doing lately is my fault. Why am I always made to feel like its never anyone else's fault but mine anytime something happens like this between two people in a relationship? I even apologized as soon as it happened and that didn't help. And I think it takes a lot for a person to apologize, especially right after they've made someone upset and they themselves are upset as well. So he cut off the conversation and I hung up the phone. I always want to end our conversations feeling happy about being with him but twice in a week I'm left on the brink of tears and bubbling with anger. I don't enjoy this. Twice in a week I've called back minutes later to try to repair things because I don't want the rest of my evening ruined by feelings of sadness over getting upset with each other on the stupid phone. I even apologized again and asked if there was more to the story. He said there was but he didn't feel like telling me because it was a story he thought was funny but I ruined it. Well I'm fucking sorry I had NO IDEA THAT THE STORY WAS GOING MUCH FURTHER AND THAT MAKING A SIMPLE COMMENT ABOUT IT WOULD RUIN THE WHOLE GODDAMNED THING. Jesus Christ. I am sick of this feeling. I suffered it way too often in my last relationship. I am NOT always the cause of an upset. Things are NOT always my fault.

Because I can't be with him very often, talking to him on the phone and thinking good thoughts about him the rest of the time are all I've got to go on between the times that we do get to see each other this summer. Thanks for ruining yet another one of my evenings.

ROO ROO ROO

The Bonnaroo tickets arrived just a bit ago... and WOW do they look sweet. I can't wait to go; it's going to be a life-changing experience. A teacher's husband last night was telling me and my mom that two kids died at Hookahville a few weekends ago because they took some bad drugs, and my mom looked at me and jokingly said "well, now you know not to take any bad drugs."

Little does she know.