C a r o l y n ' s D i a r y diary.carolyn.org
|be warned: this is my diary... clb||page 42|
The risks: adventuring beyond my known spaces, remaining in the known spaces, feeling that my life went somewhere without me, knowing that I could have done it better.
Where am I at now? Catching up on a little sleep, more than I've had in a few days. Less hallucinating finally. Maybe I'm no longer a tad sick, only marginally. Good.
But I, where am I at? Different question... I'm feeling a little less like me these days. Becoming more social, less psychological. I can see the changes in me, the different desires - social ones - leading towards who I am changing. Remarkable. All along I had believed that I did not know how to change the essential perspective causing metaphysic to be that other sort of person, the social surfer. Now I engage in it. Truly awesome.
And dammit, this is a diary, not a work of fucking art. Get it.
I wish I could sit here longer.
Why do I write here? I get asked this frequesntly. No surprise. What is the answer now? Habit? I feeling of something missing if I don't. A desire to completion compelling me to stay tuned in to a medium that is questionably only a privacy reducer currently. Are there truly positive benefits here?
Do I feel this is a unique offering any longer? No. Do I feel I have something left to say that others might find useful? Well, perhaps but it'll be lost in the volumes of things I have written. Of what benefit is the uneditted work in the longer run if it is a work? Perhaps I could put the pressure of a writer upon myself, turn to editting everything and result online with a few pithy carolyn sayings. Not my style - boring. Then what?
perhaps this does me a good that I cannot percevie for its continuous presence. Good theory. Letting go of a good would be harmful, no. To evaluate this though wouldn't I need to prevent the file saving urge for a few days? Could I wrtie to private space instead? Perhaps I would not find it enjoyable. There is certainly the benefit of living in a community and being a member of a larger friendship circle simply because I've now met half of my current circle of social friends through having written here. Puzzling but true. When and why do I stop.. mere circumstance might one day decide for me. For now, I like doing this. I'll regard it as a pleasant committment, a follow through of an enjoying daily routine I started long ago.
Perhaps it is becoming fucking art after all?
Yesterday was interesting. Working hard all day until I could just drop. Then finding people starting to find my exhausted and abrasive coping qualities failing to persuade anyone that I was worth having around. I've been managing and slowly revamping the sales program.
No longer grey.
The grey wall phenomenon, which lasted all summer and is gone now, seems to have been due to the strategical error of having two strategists in the company at one time. The eternal clashes were tiresome. I see vibrancy again. Let it stay so... or become even vivid. Running sales though is a different and extrovertedly amusing thing to do. Like broccoli, it is good for me.
Living a war of directional vector cancellation. Efforts colliding. All the results invisible to all but the two of us. People wondering what it is we each did since nothing visionary resulted for real all summer from our own efforts. It is good to have the vision active and creational. Funny that this collides with the sales directing. Perhaps our sales will come to sparkle in a surprising way.
So, ya wanna buy a website. :)
Future vision: what we think will happen to the world, to humanity, to the planet, if we let things go the way the go, or if we intervene and resculpt.
Whatever will be will be.
Still nothing on my mind really.
This cold is draining me of sleep and of energy. Wish it would go away.
Need to find something worth doing ofr a few hours. A small project that will give me a sense of accomplishment without requiring bravery for a change. Hmmm. A tangle. Maybe I should pull out some old old hobbies like needlepoint. grin.
I hung a lot of picture frames up in this apartment. They are filled with photos from years ago, living in residence, engineering scavenger hunts, pictures of Norbert and Mike and Tracey and Peter and lots of cats and very few of me. I was the photographer usually.
As well, I jung old artwork that I've done, an airbrush work and several needlepoint paintings. As my creativity funneled more into words in my master's thesis and then into this endeavor here, I have nothing much to hang on the wall from more recent times. As the technology improved as a tool of creativity, it did not seem also to improve as an output medium. Perhaps I should post diary pages on my walls. Yikes.
I haven't spoken with Peter in quite awhile. He tried to explain to me that he feels a level of guilt when he wants to talk weith me - that this is a bad reason to talk with me, and that he therefore doesn't. I can't understand this position at all. I wonder that we were ever friends with all the guilt he tangles into everything. More and more these days too. It's funny to be close with someone who avoids you because he wants to talk withyou for the wrong reasons.
I guess I start to get the sense that he is bullshitting me. No big deal really though. Where I miss the intricate and quick conversation that he and I engage in, I don't miss most of the package, the selfishness and egocentricity that accompany most of his involvements in things.
His absense from the office is refreshing. Not knowing about all the stuff he does to make himself feel important is also refreshing. Is this like the ending with Tracey last year? Will I simply grow away frommissing the good parts and perhaps the habitual parts, and find other people wiht other interests? Will Peter become just a memory to me, the person with a really bad and unused memory? What of my own desires to maintain relationships in a positive manner... is there somehting in this I'm missing?
I have to thin that I don't much like most of the way Peter lives his life. I don't want to be involved in most of the things he likes to do. Poetry readings and small town stage performances wear out.
My own callowness in these matters serves as a good pointer to me that I am left wanting not to care anymore. It's funny. When we do talk, I enjoy it. But I have this magic threshhold with him, and he never measures up to it. After about a week of not hearing back from him, I just sort of lose interest in him. I begin to forget that it was fun to talk with him. I forget the bickerings, the feelings, and strt to believe that there is nothing to it at all. Like now. After more than a week wihtout hearing from him - except for a few minor business odds and ends we were wrapping up - I find that I am almost blank.
I don't monitor the stats for this site at all, so I have no idea who reads it or when unless they write to me. However, On the computer system I tend to telnet into to write every morning, several friends have accounts. It is really easy to see what they are up to and my account sends back a little notice when I log on as to who is around and what they are doing. Peter used to use this account for reading the news, and lately suddenly he is also reading this diary. I saw him up to that yesterday. Why? [I get htat he'll read this. But I still need to think it out so that's just the way it is.]
What can I make of his claim that he feels guilt when he wnats to talk with me so he doesn't, and then find him monitoring my life this way when he doesn't have to. I just don't get it.
The sun hasn't risen yet. Email pouring into my malbox. Munching on a Montreal bagel.
I spent yesterday sick again, reading yet another scifi novel. The night before was a birthday party, with many cats and almost as many people. Nicole came with me. She had the opportunity to meet people that have known me since I was a teenager, from around second year. In particular an old beau. I also met Andrew and his cat-unfriendly girlfriend. We didn't have much chance to talk about the things we've been eing about. There was too much energy focused on me at this event. I felt as if I was the central figure. Odd.
The party served mostly to make my friend giggle. She wanted to go out after just to talk about the funny things she'd seen. I guess funny isn't the right word, but it is her story more than mine. I guess nothing remarkable happened to me. I felt a herded away from what I wanted to do, although I did get a chance to talk with Sab for half an hour. She has yet anohter creative and farout project on the burner.
Overall I found the event amusing in its way, low key and relaxing. I came away feeling quite social. I know Steve's environments are always positive for this. No criticism. Lots of enthusiasm. Friendship stew.
And Sab handed me some black leather invites for the coming few weeks. I think she plans on organizing another excursion.
The office is still an hour away this morning. Should I be early? I have a dilemma. I love to watch Babylon 5, and yet I have none of the requisite equipement: tv, vcr, cable. Should I start actually getting these things? It would change my life to have one of those babble boxes around. It's like having a lover. Absorbs all free attention, goes out of its way to attract you back to it, its habit forming, sedates your energies. Hmmm. Risky. I can become such tv junky.
Nothing much rumbling around inside me after a day alone. Its peaceful. Quiet and steady. I don't know if its also durable. Probably not. I am easy excited back into highkey mode. Ah well. I'm not even sure I enjoy this sedation of mono-society. People out there are willing to stir things up so not to worry.
I have a new assistant starting this week. That's a perk.
I wish something...
Tradition indicates that as an adult I should be a productive member of society. So be it. This is suppossed to last on average 30 years and I'm just at the beginning of this wondrous cycle of servitude. Do I like it? It has it's pluses.
In my early twenties I felt like an outsider to the whole thing. I felt like th power strucutres would keep me out permanently. Now I realize more that with some marginal adjustments, anyone can become an insider, and with patience and a little endurance can even inherit parts of hte power strucuter.
With a little ambition added in, one can accelerate the speed of the inheritance, and can increase it's size. We are all the children of those who went before. They are to make sure of several things, that they are remembered, that their creations live on longer than them, and that the right children are given access to the right things. Inheriting the power structure is little more than being good to your ancestors. This was true in academia where for no other good reason was the mentioning of who said what rather than what was said was institutionalized. This seem to be a little be less true in the business world, and yet it is still prevalent. To get ahead, you must pay respects to the appropriate someones.
So be it.
So ambition is really the desire to speed the natural course of events: the old folks do die off and even in a power strucutre that is pyramidal, there is a vaccuum at the top sucking us up. There is no need to use the ladder of success metaphor. This implies thatyou need to struggle to be promoted. I believe that you simply need to remain a bit unattached to your current position and indicate a desire to inherit with all due respect (think Gorbachov here), and you will be easily sucked up the pyramidal structure. No questions asked. Things are easier than they appeared to my poor disenfranchised 20 year old self.
Up and up and up.
NOw my fingers are freezing, and it is time to get my ambitious act in gear for another day at the off.
Afternoon surfing is not what it should be... I'll write inthis corner of the everse until tomorrow morning.
A busy week just passed. 2 big and new projects on each other's heels taking some of my time in the creative end of this stuff. They won't let me become a bureaucrat 100% of the time. I'm not sure I'm thrilled by this. Bureacracy is fun (original mantra of coping). So where dopes this leave me? With a busy weekend of things to do playing catch up.
I must run off in a few minutes. My usual last minute mad dash to be on time and still write somethig, even offline. So far though the feeling of 'get there now fast' is winning. Calmly.
Why things and not thoughts today?
Too much work - makes my mind into a task manager instead of an idea person. Perhaps I'll spend tomorrow mostly relaxing in to the words of thought here. I'd like that. Even though introverted in a way that I'm less of these days (moving sustantively from a meyers-briggs I to an E is odd but true).
An E.. on the cusp of becoming socially viable. Sure make the MB tests look foolish in my eyes. Course I've always been an advocate of my own version of who a person is. [A squirrel just walked in the window and reminded that it is time to go now. And this offline emacs is treating all my brackets to LISP formatting - driving me to little columns of tight writing. The squirrel is right.]
ps. I just realized today is my half birthday - the day I actually celebrate my birthday on. Fools all the traditionalists everytime, me included this time. grin. So happy birthday Carolyn. 32.5 today.
What a terribly typical title. Sometimes the title should encourage me in a direction, as I wished for yesterday.
I went off to another Steve and Sab party last night. Richard reminded me to leave off the wine, and it was so nice to knowt hat someone cared enough to say something, that I really did, and it made me feel really good inside. I know such reminders usually seem intrusive to me, bu tin this case it was a reminder that I would make to myself. He encouraged me to live true to my own longer term desires, and I had to admire and appreciate that. The people I've known have were so careful to respect each other's autonomy that they never helped it. What a refreshing and relaxing gesture Richard made. Oh the reason... the next day is always a grouch fest for me.. alcohol does not make me feel good for long. Grouchy beyond more like it.
Is this the soul searching I need... No.
Further into mental space without cheap stream of consiousness today. Somehow more real.
Use a question..
Fine.. This is the standard mistake, and I know I'm making it. I know I'm also trying something difficult - to do these things without the cynical jadedness or the cruel insensitivity that most who do this engage in unknowingly. Perhaps writing a real diary like this will help.
But there are important things that can be done inthe world by anyone who ahs the ability, the discipline and the love. I'm one of htose people, and I can make things work better. I don't mean to change the world into some idealic form that only a few would like. I mean to change the parts around me into things that the people around me like. Perhaps the easiest thing to do is get people who like the things around me. But I suspect it is a little more complicated than either.
Why this? Oops that's another question.
How can this be answered when I am inside the system?
Ihave been sitting here coughing and pondering whether I ought not to simply pack my bags and leave. I worry aboutmy cats, and I also know that Peter would simply look after them. As usual.
But why do I want to pack my bags? And why do I have to write about it here rather than talking it out with a friend?
I have all the vents in my apartment blocked. I didn't realize that there were smokers upstairs when I moved in and that they would not care int he least to respect the non-smoker general attitude in the universe. I used to smoke. I can relate, but at what cost.
Should I move after all this attempting not to? Perhaps I'll spend the next two weeks doing that rather than packing my bags for some foreign place. Pack up everything and for the rent I'm paying get a place that I actually like. One with more windows and less smoke. In fact one where the windows open without needing to hit them with a hammer. I think I wanted to live in this neighbourhood so badly that I forgot to check out the apartment.
Today has majorly sucked. My so-called friend, a guy who tries to be stupidly overly nice sometimes, and then acts like a molinex the rest of the time, asked me to help out on his project today. So I did. And then he took the time to butt in. And if he had the time to butt in then he had the time to do the goddamn thing himself inthe first place. I didn't need to do it. It involved creative work - which I really want no part of. Everyone wants to be a web designer - I say let them, better them than me frankly.
Fuck a door bell.
Like usual these day, I can't write online. And since the service I'm using is my own, that's a joke, right?
I'm packing this morning. I'll move shortly. Don't know where. But I know I want to get away. I've had enough of so-called friends. If I must be alone, thne I think alone I shall be.
Why share goals and efforts with people who I don't want to prosper? It's around noon now. The frown onmy face is so deep and unmovable. Tears won't even form in my eyes I am so sad, a huge sadness sitting inside me. No motivation to do anything left. I'd stay in bed forever except for that little something inside me that knows things could be better if... The pursuit of this tenuous better.
What's so wrong? I am surrounded by how people, social people, soulless people. People who want to talk abouttheir jobs, insiders with no framework to travel through time and space with except if it was written by some great thinker elsewhere. People who use their life energy in honest and good pursuits, and yet forget that they themselves, only their own self, will benefit if at all. They enforce standards of standard convention for convenience. They speak only that way. They gravitate towards the energy spenders, and wonder why they live cheap lives- not expending energy themselves too.
And what of the energy spender? WHat is he doing that for? A feeling of being liked and of fitting in?
And all of these thing scould be posititve even to me if only they were not so completely the only things anywhere. Why can't there be people who want all these thigns and as well want a deep inner life that fills them with a sense of love for the universe? Why must such love be expressed by quoting poems back and forth at each other.
How dare anyone expect me to be creative in that dead enironment?
I have long believed that my presense in this fucking business is due to my ownership of it. And to nothing else. Why must I pay lip service to being a greyed out worker bee as well? Creativity prostitution, much like the brain prostitution, can get you many things. I just don't happen to want those things. I want to go to LA and live in the warmth in poverty.
"I'm here to make your life easier." I took this as truth. Funny that none of us can make it true. But I am who I am. And with the evil and vicious voices of so-called friends rushing thorugh my mind creating a diaspora of self will - will they not just go away? Petty people. So-called friends. Self-called. If I do, it is out ofthe use of social convention. "It's the way the words are used." Fuck all of you. Librarians. Computer geeks. Fucking bean counters and pencil pushers.
Debating what to do next. Pretend it doesn't matter some more. Remember that it does and interact with death anyway? Live a fruitless life of petty creation and find that I was just another human body, nothing more. The pleb saying that even so-and-so puts his pants on one leg at a time misses the point. That so-and-so obviously also does something that they can't do. What the fuck is so important about doing soemthing unique though? Reiner's expression of liking: I haven't encountered that before. Petty unique.
Ah... a true burst of nihilism.. wonderful (sarcasm). Seeking the special and findign that it bursts through into nothing with a reletivistic sigh.
So the virus in my head comes from the social pressure to adopt another's metaphysics. Finally a clear thoguht. Focussed. So what is it?
Easy answer: "Carolyn, you are soooo harsh and mean and nasty." Fuck you. My answer. CHeap and to the point. Taking the liberty of reflecting your own emotions back at me at the same time you take the liberty to discuss who the hell I am. And whose metaphysics is it?
Easy answer. Anyone who gets too close to me. If you don't like me, get the fuck away. Easy answer.
Early morning cold fingers. Flaming the world.
Finally had a long conversation with Richard last night. He dropped by to ask me where I was moving to. Fucking hell. I told him that he had better make his questions interesting to me too before I'd find a reason to answer them. Vicious, cold and silent is not something that inspries me to conversation. So he warmed his act up a little. Good for him.
And we talked a bit. He doesn't stay in the deeper areas like: should you work with friends; should you like your life; should you want people to like you, adn to what extent. He sort of devolves back into nice linux box, the theatre will be playing a great play this weekend, this meal tastes terrific. Positive shallow. FIne and all, but I need to talk about what is going on too - not just leave it in limbo. SO I'm glad he tried for awhile. FInally.
Yeah I'm going to move. Neighbours drive me nuts. TIme for some new ones, ones who don't smoke.
There must be some way to make this stuff I'm doing feel good, but the only way I know is to look inside me and other people where the truly most interesting things are. We really are the most complex things to grok. How could physics be more interesting? The lead non-fic article in Analog on the use of either / or and Ochams's Razor in general thinking this month says it all for me. Where I always look for multiple causes for an effect and multiple effects from a cuase, and then also the interactions and synergies between these, most people are looking in pairs - one cause = one effect. Dull and usually wrong. Leads to either / or thinking, and demands that one thing be the way it is. Sigh. Even the use of scientific method or even palin theory and hypothesis testing seems to be mistaken in appplication - over used outside the area it works best in. Use a hammer for everything, and things get awfully flat. And often broken.
Too cold. Too late. Must off ice.
Waves of thoughts.
Doing is coming back. How far out are these thoughts of mine that they would entail, well, ...
Still packing. I've been going through the classifieds. There seem to be some terrific possibilities available. We'll see. I think maybe something cheaper.. I'll use the balance to get some furniture, and decorate wonderfully. Perhaps. Is it just a fantasy, my life?
And on and on.
The world has this tendency to look into our souls and test us. This is cool and all. Really. That we live at our limits (some of us) means that we'll encounter things that push us over the edge from time to time. Not living at the limits though would be leaving life times of stale crumbs behind. I could not pursue the future if I though it would be only to slice bread and eat crumbs - another assembly line nightmare.
A lost entry
I wrote yesterday in a blur of obligation, and away the pages went blowing in the digital winds. Truly private, noone will ever read them, and I wonder whether they helped more that way. I don't know what they were about.
And now I have little to write about.
Let's try to get a little more real.
The thoughts I have surf around sleepily this morning. It's one of those tired sleepy Saturdays which the mouse and the cat thought I should be up for as they squaeked and played under the refridgerator. Should I? I chinese double yoke moon cake to eat with my tepid coffee crystals disolved in daily tap. Pillows blocking the wind from the open window. Cats staring under the fridge in joyous anticipation of hidden double yoke mouse. A third date last night with the business fellow. I think we have fallen into a chatty rut of familiarity. It's nice to have met someone with such background commonalities and the overlap of future goals is also partial. But I wonder though how to make a relationship happen that would make me truly laugh. It is so very nice to just have something to do, and this I find defines my social life. Is it not true for eveyone?
Without the burning desire of youth creating intense entanglements, do the efforts add up anyway? Or does life become a jaded playground for the haves? As I move into the have world, I find so many persons who do not really know what to do with their lives. What do you do with a life? Really what? Become mayor? Learn to fly planes? Buy furniture? Invest and live frugally? Give it all away to charity? Ignore the situation? Take up sculpture?
Really there is no more answer to this than to so many other human divurging questions. The space is vast. I know my answer still ... to become a celebrity, a media darling. It's seems like an ongoing challenge, and I like the results a lot.
Still not in touch with me.
The truth is that its now 3pm and I have been drooping more and more s the day wears on. Trying to motivate myself to move, get dressed, get out, do stuff, what stuff? And all I want to do is curl up with a book - I've run out - and read escape. All I want to do is cry or be held warmly, and I start to wonder why. Is dating not for me? Could its black ego bashing be too much for a person who's used to being ogled and whistled at and simply taken as hot stuff?
There's this knowledge I've had - common one might say - which takes as an indicator of one's success, one's age. I don't much care for this as it stuffs us all into these ice little packages. I especially do not like the package options easy for me to grasp at currently. Shoud I think of M instead, and wonder if perhaps she suffers fromthis? But she doesn't - that is the crucial thing. She is dynamically alive, and doesn't seem to waste energy on drooping. What good could the doubts be?
Certianly I think that dating is not good for me. Acting as if there might be any possibility whatsoever that I'm not simply terrific and desireable and intelligent sucks. And well, no wonder it depresses me a little. Fuck it. Let the world come to me. I'm out of the game of pretending to need to pursue it in this low return way. Alright. That said, what now. Decision made - head clearingup. Be proud of who I am. Of course.
And what... So I don't have to hide here feeling the world cave in around my ears. No. I'll just be. I'll travel off to a fashion show tonight, and tidy up my expectations. Not a loser. How could something make me feel as if I am? Was it my own energy that fooled me? Sex used to be this wy for me. I'd put everything I had into it, and I thpought it was the most terrifically fun thing to do. And then I decided one day to let sex entertain me - I guess the result was that I acted entirely passive about the whole thing. Sex ended for me in general. I shouldn't invoke thesame curse on meeting people. Let's just say that today is a hard day. I've beenlooking out to the worldto let it make me feel good. It doesn't do anything inthis line, even when people stop by here to say hi and smile at me. My own mind is fucking around with my feelings. Tell it off, teach it to be nice to me again, and I'll start enjoying the ins and outs of stuff more. maybe. At least today.
Wavering away from claustrophobic inertia. A little. Bounding energy surge. M would like me suddenly. Focus more on positiveness. Don't linger in the sorrow of the beefstake life. Up to the top of the Park Plaza Hotel where cigars and scotch rule, and the view inspires the pigeons. Funny little birds. Awaken the body after the soul takes on its responsibilties pnce again. So it took 8 hours today without the pesky draw of an office. But now it can be different. And I will forget the first half in obscurity withina day, and the world will not notice either.
Time to off.
Had a great time last night, flirting and watching and playing. Quite the fashion show - a black leather scene nblfs. Thousands of people dressed to the nines (in leather of course), camera crews and light shows, and lots of friends too. Wow. I wish I had some photos of last night. A relly cool shot was taken of me and Earl doing the James Bond thing, me a Bond woman. I like that.
So really I found the whole scene quite extensively fun. There was this one guy, too submissive for me, who was otherwise just terrific. I found we just smiled a lot at each other across a crowded room. But he never said hello. I'll remember that smile for quite a while.
Where to take this taste of mine, something I can abid in full only once a year or so. Perhaps I'll linger aroundthe edges as I do so many other things that do absorb my attention on their own. Tasting the high of style like a hummingbird, only occasionally. Purring.
Between personal ad dating and last night, my whole social life seems to be taking on an aspect of sexuality that is normally not with me. I wonder where this will lead.
Tired tracings through the empires.
Waning energy again. The personal wars must exist around me as I maintain disparate lifestyles. The lying disapprovers and the no-standard approvers. Why should I participate in either. Why should I be intolerant? No reason for me at all. So go away.
I have a circling tune stuck in the crevisses of the place where thought should emerge. Acting like a cheap and over-used mantra, letting my emotions be fiddled around with instead of my thoughts. Music motivates those of us with that extra tolerance. I can't turn it off.
Losing the distinctions between. Losing the personal pronoun while enduring the stuffy pain. Once my mind cleanly protected me from the nuisances of the world, and now people know how I work and these do not help me any longer. My own defenses are ridiculed. Am I to lie on the ground bleeding? I think I'll say "move along with your pain." Get away. And look elsewhere more.
Ou tin the world there are small acts of kindness that add up over time into a nicer view. Not one of crying as lives currently in me, crying hurt. Reflected back by retaliation, resentment and pain. I want to give up and I know I won't. I don't give up, perhaps even when I should. No, that's not true. I have th ecapacity to give up, and on that rare occasion when it is most viable, I have done so once or twice. Shouold I really expect that now. My silence will amount to lingering suffering. Should I ?
Is kindness always followed with a bill handed over in anger? Not at all. Only some people keep tight tallies of the benefits in their lives. Only some.
I find as I tryi to strucutre the thoughts here that I am really just venting steam to no end. There is no resolution inside of me this morning. Perhaps perhaps I can findit in teh world. Hold on (to me).
Tired. I've an interview this afternoon with CTV's new News1 cable station. Should be fun.
On to other things like how to do the dating thing in a more satisfying manner. I wonder how... I'm very tired this morning having ony slept for 4 hours. A few more coffee cups full of awakening fluid should help.
Tempests calming down again. Am I so moody that I cause them or was being told I ought not to have the friends I do a good reason to lose my cool? Alright.. losing my cool should never really happen. I'll grant the point. But get beyond that: When is it ok for some friends to object to the existence of other friends and friendships? Where should the lines be drawn?
But where? I've always held that there is no room for such intolerance at all. I've similarly never acted other than to avoid the friends of friends that I did not like. But some of my friends are holding me to a different standard - the "I should side with them against the other person" standard. I'll have to think on this long and hard.
In the case at hand, the second person is someone who I don't hold any positive feelings for in any case. Having known this person for a long time, I decided less long ago to simply ignore his existence. Fair enough even if I do see him around on occasion. What is more interesting is the venom which several persons I know have for each other. It is here that I am supposed to side with someone. They all expect it and even analyse me by such a standard.
What about this? What do people do when they are confronted with this sort of puzzle? I'll linger on this puzzle myself today.
Once again, time to get dressed and off.
|...continue into the future...|
All non-daughter writings of Carolyn's Diary are not copyright © Carolyn L Burke, 1995, 1996, 1997, and may not be copied with permission except for non-commercial gain. See what your lawyers can't make of that.