So....Sunday night. Finally I don't have to work. I was so relaxed today. What should I do with my time, I don't know. I donated $20 to Glory Reborn. I think I'll start doing that every month. Why not? I thought about books I could buy but here we go again, I have a million books already I need to finish. So let's wait on that for awhile.

I guess I really just want to take a cold hard look at my life and see what's needed. Sometimes I berate myself for ever complaining, since I am so fortunate to have what I have. But not to expect things from your life, to settle for things you don't want, to not admit you're unhappy, that's not being honest. Of course there are things that I want. Of course I have my own sources of pain just like everyone else in the world. If I don't ask for what I want how should I expect to get it?

Loneliness. Being alone. That more than anything else is the source of pain in my life. I really could care less about the other stuff, the failures of grad school, the uncertainty about getting a job. But it just seems to cloud everything I do. My birthday. New Year's spent alone. Not having people at work to talk to. Not having people to go places with. My world is so narrow, so small, it seems. You just want that sense of connection so badly and you don't get it and it can drive a person crazy. I eat to cover it up. I cling to things rather than people. Seeing people who are in love and that is just such a foreign concept to me. What it would be like to be touched. To find someone who just kind of appreciates who I am. And vice-versa. I just don't know how to handle relationships, even at the most basic level. Like that song, "Hold on Loosely", you have to know how to handle people, to hold on but know how to give people their space and that is something I have been extremely bad at. I fear closing in on people, I fear alienating them, and so then I just let them go, don't engage them, and they think I'm a snob, and I never get anywhere. The pains of shyness. I don't trust people.

I have been writing about the miserable two years in grad school and it seems that was the real pain of that time, just feeling unbelievably lonely and disconnected. Feeling so isolated and that I had this horrible, horrible secret I couldn't share with anyone.

And the job thing. A part of me just wants to get a job so I can feel important. I know I can do more than the job I have now. I've mastered it but I can't move on to anything else. I've burned bridges as far as getting a job in programming. I have this writing thing going but sometimes I feel like that would just be settling. Being so loathe to compete that I just kind of go through it and expect there to be a job for me at the end of it. An easy job, a job with lots of vacation time. There are no easy answers to this stuff and I'm not going to make the mistake of taking shortcuts again. But I'm impatient, I mean, I've spent all this time in school, a few years basically drifting, wondering what the hell I was doing. I guess most of all I want things to make sense, I want there to be clear plans, plans clear as day. I'll do A-B-C so I can get to D. It just seems like it's a matter of commitment. Just commit to something, commit to being good at something. Serve something. And right now I am just avoiding all commitments, I don't want to give up my time for something I'm not sure about. I'm just so cynical about the world, the corporate world that chews you up and spits you out, that you give everything to and that gives very little to you in return, esp. in terms of personal satisfaction. But there are things to believe in, you can believe in what you do, you just have to find some kind of meaning in it.

Sometimes I just feel so powerless. I feel like I'm not living my own life. I like being by myself during the day because it creates this environment where I feel like I'm independent and I'm being who I really am without my family around. But then it's like work, here we go again, I do the same job over and over, and I'm not getting anything accomplished by being there. If I said, OK I want to get a better job here, let me do what I can to move up, talk to the right people, etc. Or if I said, I'm really committed to this tech writing program, let me get to know some professors, let me see what skill sets I need to teach or to write grants or whatever. Or if I said I want a job now, let me brush up on my programming skills so I can get a good job. If I did any one of those things it would make all the difference in the world but I don't know which one I want to do. Right now I am choosing not to do any of them, really, I'm kind of engaged with this writing program but I'm also just messing around, a lot of days I just practice the piano and half-heartedly read for class, I write on my blog, I watch movies and don't get much of anything done. I guess I was kind of starting to like this writing thing but a part of me is impatient and just wants a real job now. I was set to wait it out another 18 months or so so I could finish this but 18 months? And then what? I'm pigeon-holed into being an English teacher for the rest of my life? I'm tired of feeling like a child. I'm tired of the job I have now. I have some skills, why can't I just put them to use, take advantage of them in any way I know how? Why can't I at least aim higher, set some goals for myself? I'm just frustrated.

English classes. I like them but at the same time, I'm just like what does all this really matter? Is reading some more Greek philosophy and British writers really going to be valuable down the road? Can't I do that on my own time? I already read a lot of books. Is it really going to help me to define my "world view?" I don't know.

I don't know. I say I want to write but is that ever going to happen? The whole point is you have to believe in what you do. You have to believe it will make some sort of difference. Sometimes I think about going into medicine. At least I'll be able to find a job.



Church today. Pastor Warren going on again about home groups. I like home groups, but another sermon on it? Sometimes I just want to hear once a mention of Jesus. What did Jesus say? How should we live here on earth? I need to hear about grace and mercy and freedom from sin. Sin. So much sin.

Too much free time. Must we work and work and work without end? This is why I should teach. Summers off. But I'd better be serious about it, too. What is it exactly that I should do? How can I serve?

So it's 11:35. I got home from work early. I don't know why I'm so tired today. Maybe because it was overcast and chilly. I could barely pry myself away from my bed. I started reading this interview with Gloria Anzaldua from 1997. It was really, really interesting. She had a lot of cool ideas. And being Hispanic, it's still pretty rare to see a Hispanic woman in academia. Encouraging people to speak out. Also just to read about someone who writes for a living. She speaks about going into a sort of zone to write. Once in a while, I get so into writing that I go into that zone. It's weird to me to read about people who are artists, where expression is everything, who write fiction and poetry. She even draws pictures to go with them. My interest in this woman was piqued. I did a Google search, went to her Wikipedia entry and it turns out she died in 2004. This made me really sad. It's weird, it was like I "got to know her" and then just as soon found out she died. It's weird how you can feel like you know a person so intimately through just reading what they wrote. The Diary of Anne Frank. It's a diary, sort of like my diary, but better, of course, and then you just realize what happened to her and how horrible it was, to have taken away the life of such an innocent person. A person who had hopes and dreams like me, who fell in love, who argued with her parents, who went to school. It's very, very sad. Why do bad things happen? I don't know.

My grades for the discussion papers I wrote for class: 18/20 and 19/20. I was happy with that, I was so nervous about turning in those papers. I've written reports, I've written a thesis even, but I'm no English major. So I was so afraid I would just be stitching a bunch of incoherent thoughts together and I would get marked way down. Instead the prof wrote, "Great discussion" and on one he even wrote, "I would like to see you write more on this." Awesome! I mean, I don't think these were such fantastic papers, but at least I know I can make it through a writing class.

Work is wearing on my nerves. I like having the extra hours and extra pay, but it is taking its toll. I don't have as much time for other things. People, mainly. I have a lot of time during the day but no one is home, usually, so I spend most of that time alone. I read, practice piano, watch a few daytime TV shows, walk the dog/exercise, do homework, spend time on the Internet. I guess the main thing is that it is such a routine. Like I don't ever really do anything new. It's been a month or two since I have gone outside El Paso. I don't even get to go out to eat as much, maybe once a week, and we always go to the same places. It's been awhile since I've really done something fun, probably the last time was to the movies with my sister. I don't even watch the TV shows I used to watch since now I'm not home during the evenings except for one day a week. So I guess I would just say my life is kind of boring. And kind of lonely. Maybe this week I can try to go out a little more, maybe get my hair cut or go to the mall or something. Maybe go to the art museum, go out to lunch, anything to disrupt the boredom.

I was thinking about a topic for a blog post: things I miss about the Westside. West El Paso. I still consider myself from there. I liked it better there. I grew up there, everything was familiar. And it's like everything there seems newer and fresher. Things are always springing up, there's a nice restaurant scene, there are bookstores and coffee shops, and here, well, there are a few venues. But there's no Starbucks, no mall nearby, no Barnes and Noble. The neighborhood around where we live feels like it's stuck in the '80s. It's kind of limiting and I wish it were a little nicer. And of course, just the familiarity, my dad, my grandparents, all within a few miles of each other. It feels like home. If I could choose somewhere to live, that's probably where I would choose. Actually, I think if I ever move out I'd like to move Downtown. So sophisticated. *rolls eyes* But it probably would be fun.

CDs I have been thinking about buying: The Cars Complete Greatest Hits. The Police Greatest Hits (Import). John Mayer Continuum.

This makes me feel better, just writing everything out. Writing the way you eat. Naturally. I'm so worried about what I write sometimes. It's not proper or whatever, it's in bad taste. Journal writing is kind of pointless. I've read a couple things about the value of keeping a journal. Mostly that it is not valuable at all. There's no artistry, everything comes out all mushed-up and incoherent. I think it was David Sedaris who wrote that he keeps journals and mostly never looks at them again, but once in a while he will get an idea from it. I think that's a good way to write. I keep journals. I have one for just about every year since I was about 11 or 12. I have gone back and looked at some of them. You notice a couple of things: 1) You repeat yourself a lot. The same issues come back up, the same feelings. 2) A lot of times things you worried about in the past seem stupid when you come back to them. I worried about that? 3) There really is no sense, sometimes you jump from one thing to the next, descriptions aren't fleshed out, you will write about something minor when something major really happened. 4) Sometimes you will read something and not remember what happened. At all. That's scary. Or sometimes I will even use a person's initials instead of their real name. To be anonymous? But then a year later I'll read what I wrote and not even remember who that person is. But it's good for a laugh once in a while, it's good to remember where you've been, what you felt. Sometimes I will see something I wrote and think, wow, I still feel that exact same way. I understand myself better than I think. So there's some value there, I suppose. But I guess it's of value only to me, I mean maybe my kids or grandkids (if I have them) could go back and find some use in it, or if I suddenly died my family members could read what I really thought. I guess what I'm saying is that kind of stuff probably doesn't belong on something like a blog, I mean, unless I were doing something extraordinary that people would actually be interested in. But then the question is, where do I draw the line, how personal should I go, what is interesting and what is not? Lately I've been trying to write things that are not about myself, things that are about things outside myself, but then there's the problem that I don't feel like I have anything to say that would be worth saying about such things.