Pale Fire/Affliction

There has been little progress in the affairs of my life, and aside from a few thrills, little to speak of.

I spent the last couple of days ignoring Ryan’s repeated telephone calls, and in retrospect I felt it was good for me to not have as much contact with him, being as I’m already thoroughly overwhelmed with my life that even being reminded of him or our times together has made me quite depressed. I spent last night alone in my room, away from the computer, and I just cried and then fell asleep for about an hour or so. When I woke up I felt a little better, and I cammed for Ryan. He said that I’m looking better as he said I’ve lost some weight, but to be honest I think it was just the effect of dark clothing.

My search for lasting employment continues. Last week I applied for a job with the local Mental Hospital here in town for a clerical/administrative assistant, just for the summer, or until I can at least get 80 dollars to release a hold from Texas Tech–one that I’ve already tried to resolve, this last time speaking to the very condescending Ombudsman from that institution. She, in representing the obviously biased position of the University, implied that the now-infamous “broken drawer” incident was my fault, caused by my insanity-induced delirium. She said to me, “Now, exactly how are you sure that you didn’t break the drawer?” I said, “Because I’m sure most bipolar people are not amnesiacs.” It infuriated me because it just showed how intolerant people are of my illness. I don’t understand; most people see Bipolar Disorder as some sort of great whining disease, as if people choose it openly of their own understanding. People openly discriminate against people like me, telling us we’re overtly dramatic, unstable in practically everything, and it’s true–we don’t have any control to our lives, as we don’t have the kind of support systems available for assistance. My friend Peter seemed to corroborate the same sentiments with me as he was venting yesterday, telling me about his difficulties as he struggles to finance his education. I told him people will never really be accepting of those with mental illnesses because those that make those kind of judgments will never have it, so how could they possibly know? To me, it is only something that needs to be overcome, just as any other great form of discrimination is.

On other fronts, things have hit a rut I can’t seem to get out of. I can’t seem to get any callbacks and I’ve really given up on it. I don’t want to stay here at the house for another year, I’m bent on getting out of here and getting back into school, but no one wants to help. Ryan has made repeated remarks about how I need to get in gear–and all the money I’ve had–all piddled away on bills and unnecessary things. I don’t have the money to pay off this debt and I don’t know what to do. I keep on praying for assistance and I don’t seem to get any response. I’ve told myself that things are getting better, but I feel like in some way I’ve been lying to myself, as my own laziness has really taken over me, and I haven’t been able to get anything done. I’m running out of good clothing, too–now just to walking around in tatters–so I know I need to do something quick, or else I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.

It’s so interesting seeing people going on about with their lives, spinning away off in the distance, and there you are, with nothing to show for except the scars of what you’ve experienced, the pain, and the frustration of having doors closed on you. I wonder what The Lord has in store for me now. I can’t seem to get out of this rut, and I don’t know what to do. This in the last couple of days has definitely taken on more a delirious obsession, stewing in me all day, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to get out of it. I guess one is never truly happy–those that seem blindly so just float about from base passion to base passion, never aspiring for anything higher, or even looking for that kind of aspiration. I don’t want to live a life with no expectations of good things, or the same, tiring people, or the same, tiring intransient things. I don’t know how normal people can see the joy in life having the same job with the same amount of normalcy, like Ryan. Give me high places, mountains, valleys, sunsets, waterfalls, and music. I want to feel God in everything I touch; I want to see Him, I want to be closer to Him in some way. I remember feeling the presence of God out in the middle of the desert when I saw Ryan in Presidio, I so want to feel that way again.

Anyway, I hope that things change. I trust in God, and resolved to His tender mercies, I will walk through this day in His consciousness, filled with peace, joy, and harmony.

Ins and Outs

In the last month I think I have had some real difficulties in getting settled with my life post-trip, but I think I’m headed in the right direction. People have come and gone out of it, as well as settled nicely in the whole mix, relatively. I’ve been somewhat busy doing things around the house and haven’t been able to write. But as much as this journal has become somewhat difficult to maintain because of my sheer laziness and inability to remember things, I feel I have to continue writing in order to mark out my life–to make it more tangible and demonstrable to myself.

It’s so nice talking to friends again; it seems like for the most part I’ve been talking to a couple of friends out West–mainly a guy named Rick and Jack–but I do occasionally call Adrien just to keep in touch and see how he’s doing. Other than that I talk mainly to two other people: Ryan and Peter Holyk, my Canadian friend whom I just can’t get over for some strange reason. I’m so unbelievably attracted to him, partly because he corresponds to me in terms of the same mental illness we share, and partly because he’s so good-looking. He has beautiful doe-eyes, dreamy and far-off-looking, with the color of sapphires. Unfortunately for me he’s got a boyfriend named David, who I’ve been told is very nonchalant about things, but still cares for Peter deeply, and that I cannot interfere with. As for Ryan, my communiqués with him have been brief and fleeting; usually he leaves me either so exasperated that I can’t speak to him or so frustrated at not being able to hear him say a thing while he does the dishes. I’m OK with the whole thing, though: he cost me a very dear friendship with Victor Silva, who resolved to never speak to me again because I still talked to Ryan. I guess when one makes mistakes like that, these are the consequences.

Either way it’s been somewhat desolate here at the house. No visitors. A couple of “trips back home” to see Saul Sandoval resulted in a very uncomfortable confrontation, something that I didn’t want to pursue again. I don’t know why I do these things; I should make myself much clearer next time (if there is one)! He graduates in August. I don’t know what to do. I probably won’t go. As for my own educational pursuits, I’ve had to deal with Texas Tech for a couple of weeks now in the resolution of a problem that has dogged me for two years since I left that institution–the problem of the now-infamous incident of the broken drawer. After talking to Kathryn Quilliam, the Ombudsman for the University, I expect that this sad little chapter in my life come to an appropriate close. It will be my last tie broken with the University, as the other ties have now been broken withal–friends don’t even remember me now–and I am at peace with it. I have been through so much.

But I guess it begs the question as to whether I should go back to school right now. I feel like I need to–for sanity’s sake–as this past year here “on break” has been absolutely the worst thing I have ever undertaken. The calmness and security of the house, with all its memories and loves, must pass away for new things to take place. I don’t have any money right now, and I’m trying so desperately to solve that problem. I keep on applying for jobs but nothing comes through. It’s so frustrating doing the things that we need to do, but I feel in some way that I am undergoing a time of retributions and setbacks for the life I previously led.

I am going to have to try much harder. It is so much more difficult than what I expected.