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THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).

By Lapis on Friday, December 13, 2002 - 04:09 pm:

    I know I've been lurking. I know I've been saying strange things.

    Lately I can't seem to do much.

    Everyday I feel more stepped-on illiterate, shoved to the wayside with millions of other people who once had potential but are paralyzed by something. Not wanted.

    Days are mostly good, sleeping in until whenever before going to work and complaining about how trapped my schedule makes me feel. When there's something to do that I've been waiting for, I hide.

    "It's not normal to feel this way, so insignificant." they'd say, the doctors, if they heard me.

    I don't care about normalcy, just the ability to function. I should feel powerful enough to do anything I want to do. I am constantly surrounded by amazing people doing amazing things, and I try to create, I try to find some significance, and then I get tired again and go back to bed.

    I'm supposed to be too young to feel like a cliche. It's how I feel though. A number, a statistic, that's doing everything right by walking between the lines. As long as I get to work on time, the system doesn't care.

    So where do I go? Who do I make friends with? That line of ex-boyfriends that I'm too painful for? My coworkers? The people I make movies with who push me aside because I don't have the right schedule?

    It doesn't feel fair. Everyone else has their peeps, why can't I? I listen to everyone, trying to help their dreams along if I can. The phone is silent and there are no new messages. At least not for me.

    Is it so silly, to feel selfish and quiet? Is it wrong to want to be approached by other people first? I don't understand how people work together sometimes, I try but the night ends and it's over.

    Abrasive.

    Maybe I rub people the worng way. How the fuck am I supposed to know what other people want? The only people who talk to me much are desperate dickeads looking for a date, they rub me the wrong way. Too clingy, too fast.

    I can't even dance anymore. It's saddening, there's nobody to dance with, normally, I can't dance with myself and don't want an audience either. I'm torn and rambling


By Nate on Friday, December 13, 2002 - 09:29 pm:

    you're a great writer, pezuli.

    i believe the best have creative bursts and depressed lulls. you're lulling.

    lulling is a good time to look back at the things you've done when bursting, and realize how much of a fucking badass you really are.

    clean your spaces.

    get out of the house more.

    i mean, these are the things i've accidently done to help me through lulls. mostly i just binge drink and smoke myself stupid until i'm so disgusted with myself that i snap out of it.

    but there are a lot of downsides to this. like the risk of never snapping out of it.




By Lapis on Saturday, December 14, 2002 - 12:03 am:

    I'm a little worried about this one. My downtimes range anywhere between two days and seven months. Having my 21st birthday in the middle of a downcycle is a depressing thought in itself. At least I know that I won't celebrate alone this year.

    Which presents one of my little worries.

    I went to a holiday/housewarming party that was about half coworkers (the other half gay bois/men) and drank a little, less than everyone else, but still. I have this little mutual crush thing going with a produce guy, we ended up making out. Next day, he remembers nothing.

    So what do I do? Try and forget myself? Jog his memory? He promised to take me out for my birthday and I don't know if I'd want to go with someone who won't remember anything.

    * * * * *

    I've been alternately cleaning and tearing things apart. Typing out stories and throwing them away. Looking at old stuff. Taking away old rules.

    I'm balking at redoing stuff I've already published, on the internet or otherwise. Mostly on the internet. That one, specifically, because it's a memory that was a major point for me and then it was also on a website that I had a falling-out with.

    Bah.

    Fuck that.


By agatha on Saturday, December 14, 2002 - 12:08 pm:

    seasonal affective disorder. it's for real, and i think it's worse in states like oregon and washington, where it's gray and rainy all winter.

    you know we love you, pez. hang in there for three more months.


By Platypus on Saturday, December 14, 2002 - 03:28 pm:

    they have nifty full spectrum lightbulbs which really help, pezzoo.


By agatha on Saturday, December 14, 2002 - 03:31 pm:

    ps- is it annoying you that none of us are calling you by your new nickname? i still call platypus isolde, i can't help it.


By Lapis on Sunday, December 15, 2002 - 03:06 am:

    No, I like it. Especially since you folk are getting creative with name variations.

    I went to the shoot today and played a member of the E.T.C.E.A. which I really enjoyed (sexpot powerful secret agent lady) and had fun.

    Making movies is something that involves a ton of waiting, but even standing behind the camera and cracking silent jokes about the actors is immensely enjoyable.


By patrick on Monday, December 16, 2002 - 11:58 am:

    "i mean, these are the things i've accidently done to help me through lulls. mostly i just binge drink and smoke myself stupid until i'm so disgusted with myself that i snap out of it."


    you too?



    to reiterate what he says pez....the lulls will always be there. take a some what budhist approach to them. mindful. observe. they have their place. don't fight it. yet all the while, be confident in your inner strength to move up. you're time will come. it always does.


    be on the lookout for something new. some sort of new project, idea or exhibition of any sort.

    but don't pressure yourself. the time between photo projects for me, is sometimes too long. and sometimes it comes out of no where.

    one of the greatest pictures ive ever made is going out in the mail today. this project, a simple one, came out of nowhere.

    be patient with yourself and the world.

    water through pipes dear pez.


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