Sunday, June 21, 2009

Sad sack attack

I went to bed sad, I woke up sad and in the perverse way one pokes and jabs at a wound I was compelled to make myself sadder (Why? Why do I listen to music that reminds me of even sadder times, read emails from sad times, look at sad photos when by any reasonable standard I'm already sufficiently sad?). I was packing the last of the books, and one of the strays was the journal John writes in every year on his birthday.

I don't know if this was pure denial and self-justification on my part or a sincere case of day-after stupids and bad judgment, but because John has read parts of his journals out loud to me before, I didn't think he would care if I flipped through it. In my mind, at the time, it was on par with looking through his photo album, which I wouldn't assume I'd require permission for. But duh: If he's reading to me he's editing out anything he wouldn't want me to read because it's private and/or would bother me.

My only defense/evidence that I didn't think I was doing anything particularly sneaky is that I told him about about it right afterward ... and duh: he didn't like it. So now I've got guilt (my very least favorite feeling, much worse than sad) on top of the sadness. I think I said here a couple of weeks ago in the context of EQ that I don't often feel guilt or remorse. It's not because I'm not capable of it, which I may have unintentionally implied; it's because I try really hard not to do stuff I know is wrong, since doing those things makes me feel awful whether or not there are hard repercussions.

I have a frequent recurring dream in which "everyone hates me." That sounds so childish I know, but it's really upsetting. Usually, for whatever reason, the cast of characters is my high school friends, centering around my best friend from ages 12 to 18 or so, Marisa Lewels, who now lives in LA. I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually hate me, but in my dreams, she almost always does. And everyone else tends to agree. In the dreams I feel mixed guilt and defensiveness; I'm never sure if I've actually done something wrong or if it's all just a big misunderstanding and/or conspiracy.

Today I kind of feel like everyone hates me. Recording my self-pity in this public forum makes me feel sort of ironic toward it, and therefore less shitty, so please, dear readers, indulge me.

This is Chris Starkey.

I haven't seen him in a long time and I miss him lots. He texted on Friday to say he is coming to Boston soon, which makes me happy, somewhere under the sadness. Because I get to see him, and because he doesn't hate me.


  1. this chris definitely hates you and he's coming to see you on july 17th. mark it, dude.

  2. And Chip would like to express his own hatred during lunch on Wednesday.

  3. I, too, got kinda sad on Sunday, even though it was my first Father's Day as a father. I got sad looking at pictures on Facebook. All those old acquaintances, suddenly visible again. Instead of making me feel connected and happy, Facebook reminds me what a bad friend I've been and how I've isolated myself at times. I felt this even though I have a beautiful family and son. Damn you, Internets!

  4. I keep being surprised that Elisa isn't on Facebook, where writers discuss every day what they're eating for lunch.

  5. I don't want only my "friends" to know this stuff. I want it to be accessible to random IT workers in India, etc.

  6. I hate you so hard that I can't wait to see you in Boston on the 4th of July.

  7. Some of my "friends" on Facebook are incredibly random people from all over the world, I have to say. Not sure whether they're working IT. But of course everybody there is busy "working it," any way you look at it.