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Oh I'm a sad panda, a very mother fucking sad panda. It's funny how quickly my life falls in on itself. It's like Eeyore's house. I need to start building my life out of something more than sticks I suppose.

We talked yesterday. I could tell we were growing apart. No kisses in the morning from him, no making out before bed... other clues too. It's been happening since he got sober. Well let's be honest, since I GOT HIM SOBER. Yes, he made a decision to not want to drink, but I started him on the right path, telling all his roommates to not give him any or buy him any or loan him money... and I was there when he'd ask the roommates for beer, to make sure they said no. He worked hard and stayed sober at the music festival though, I give him props for that, buth he regrets going to now cuz of the money he watsed. We talked, and we'd both prefer to have each other as really fucking good friends than to have this turn out a month long one night stand. True. I told him later, we were in my room, chilling on my bed, watchign imaginary clouds roll across my ceiling I suppose, and I said to him "You shouldn't have said you loved me, you shouldn't have done that" "I know, I'm sorry" "You shouldn't have felt obligated or anything, cuz I didn't say it to you, you said it FIRST, you shouldn't have lied. Never ever ever ever EVER do that to another girl, NEVER." But really in my head I'm screaming "How dare you give me hope you fucking bastard, how dare you conjure a mirage so beautiful!!!"

We were waiting on his friend Jackson to pick us up for an AA meeting. Last night I asked mom for some grocery money, and she gave me $60. I only asked for $20. Geoff needed exactly $40 to get his phone working. When my mom was putting the three twenties in my hand I heard "for groceries" when the first 20 was laid down, and then I heard "for his phone" when the other two were in my hand. It's the same voice that tells me to duck when something big is about to hit me in the head, the same voice that tells me to breathe when I've been under 6 minutes, the same voice that tells me to look to the left and there's something amazingly spectacular to my left. The voice points out the beauty and tries to keep the ugly out of my life. So that night the voice said "for his phone" and I said back to it (yes I know this is all in my head, shut up) I said "duh, I can subtract". He tried to protest, for a second, "But that was for your atkins food..." "I don't eat THAT much, and it's not all for food, forty is FOR YOUR PHONE, don't feel bad or guilty or humble... JUST SAY THANK YOU."

After the AA meeting, Jackson took us over to the Radio Shack so he could pay on his phone. It took a few hours to be turned back on and he was confused. I had him call and talk to an operator about when his phone should come on and they said very soon. About an hour after that, around 5pm, his phone was working. About 5:30 his wife calls him... and I haven't seen him since.

See, Sunday he was supposed to see his son. I didn't know that the supervised visitations would mean she'd be there, I thought she'd drop the kid off witht he guardian then Geoff would see him and leave then the mom would come back... not that it'd be a fucken family picnic with a dude from the court.... But she never showed up. Pretty big let down. And she's done some fucked up shit to him, showed up to court wearing her wedding dress, threw all of his belongings away... oh yeah let's not forget the crack smoking and sleeping with black guys, (the one fault I found in Geoff, and I had to dig to find it cuz he's not verbal about it, was his racism against blacks). So she calls nearly just as soon as the phone is turned on, the phone I TURNED ON FOR HIM, (it seems I always sharpen the blade, sharpie on a bullseye, hand them the knife and pull down my collar and say "here, this is where you slip the knife in, right between the ribs, right into the heart") he goes into the road to talk to her, and comes in "I'm going to walk over and see Alex" I'm already laying in bed cuz I knew what was going to happen and I knew that in my bed was where I'd eventually end up. I'd already been crying before he even told me. I knew this would be temporary, just not THIS temporary. And he's making such a huge mistake, going back so soon, not even a week sober, and unsure of her sobriety... and neither of them have a car or a job, ya know.... But anyway, we all can't be as pessimistically brilliant as I am, I suppose.

I need to grab my handwritten journal to transcribe the convo. OK, it went like this:

G "it was as much of a surprise to me, too"
J "it's ok"
G "you're pissed"
J "I'm jealous"
G "I'm sorry, but she's... she's... she's my WIFE"
J "No, I'm not jealous about that, I'm happy for you, I'm jealous because things like this, or even little things, things in general just never work out for me, and that I never get 2nd or third or 8th chances..." (in my head though, in my head I am SCREAMING about lost chances, of that thing which I need to tell Lon, screaming jealousy over how much he absolutely loves her and that I've never had anyone EVER love me, really mother fucking love me)
G "Good things really do come to those who wait"
J "Guess I'll have to keep waiting..."
G "I'm so sorry Joey. I didn't know this would happen..."
J "I'm happy for you"
G "I'll be back tonight, will you be OK?"
J "We agreed on NO DRAMA, and you'll get none from me, ever."
G "You'll be OK."
J "go, please, I'll be OK, they're waiting for you. Good luck."
G "Thank you."

Forver and always, I'm a victim of bad timing. And it hurts, bad, it hurts like Lon. Hope, what a joke. I knew he didn't mean the "I love you", maybe he wanted to, or maybe the drunken him meant it. Once he was sober he was a different person, and I couldn't believe how much better he could get, I can't believe anyone could ever do anythign to hurt something so beautiful. I don't know why he said it, probably becuase he thought I wanted to hear it, or maybe his voice told him that I needed this, that I needed hope. And I guess I still have hope, I guess things will be for the better, I know that I left him better than I found him, and that's my rule, my only rule really, to leave things better than I found them.

And maybe I'm better too. Except last night I came downstairs after showering to ask my mom for the van so I could go tanning (and please no remarks on the tanning, IF I PRETEND I'M A NORMAL GIRL FOR LONG ENOUGH MAYBE I'LL FORGET I'M PRETENDING, yes I know I'm selling out, but I'm keeping the reciepts, please don't blow my camouflage), came downstairs for the van keys and she's mixing cupcakes and balling her eyes out, she could see I'd been cryign too. "He's not worth it mom" "they never are, Jo" "no, sometimes they are, that's the sad part, you gotta keep trying cuz sometimes they are." She gave me the keys, when I got back she put two pills in my hand, she said she was afraid I'd hurt myself and wanted me to take them to "settle my nerves" (sedate the demon). Guess she knows me a little bit huh. And then later on I smoked a bowl with Rick. So I'm not off to such a good clean n sober start, but that was Geoff's wish not mine. Really though, I think I'd like to. I don't know if I could, or what that would do with my bipolar symptoms. We'll see, I suppose.

I popped the pills, ultracets this time, she got another upgrade, Ultracet is darvocet with tylenol-3. I went upstairs and Melissa was awake from her nap (8 pm-ish) We had a unsarcastically lovely conversation, she's been in the same position as I am with Geoff, didn't have much advice but "keep trying, you'll find someone" but really I need to find myself before I find someone else.

I have this idea, that I'm some sort of battery, or generator. I meet these people who need a jump start, who need back up power, and I let them hook into me, and I run currents to them, and they get all filled up and I get tapped. And I get by with just enough juice to make it till the next time I get refueled. But it's like when I was using heroin, and we'd put $2 in the tank and $58 to Dirty (the man), we were forever putting two in the tank, and the car was permanently on empty. That's how I feel. And I always try to refill myself with shit, things I ought not refuel myself with, drugs and promiscuity mostly, and I need to find some other kind of fuel source.

I do not know where my life is going, and I have no direction to point it in. I have court tonight about those tickets, I start work Saturday. I'll start getting paychecks, which won't really be all of anything, but it'll be something. I won't be able to live on that, and my mom goes back to Singapore in September, so I need to have a place to live and transportation by then. The rainbows have dissipated and only rain clouds remain, and the rain comes down from my eyes.

But I'll be OK, because I'm ALWAYS OK, and I'll keep trying, because I ALWAYS keep trying, because no matter how mother fucking disgustingly horrible it gets, I always manage to come out OK, and so I have to keep trying cuz I'm doomed to succeed, (or at least be OK) and for once I'd like to NOT be ok, so I can stop trying. With a perfect track record, like Lance Armstrong or Ken on Jeopardy, I'll keep winning just out of momentum. But secretly, I'd like to lose, so I can give up, stop trying, go home. But no, I'll keep trying, cuz it'll be OK.

And it's my job to make something good come out of this, my job to cultivate my own garden. If other's don't leave me better than they found me it's my job to do it. So maybe I'll give the clean and sober a worthy try, and I'll keep up with all this girly shit like tanning and make up and nice clothes. And maybe I'll go to work everyday and love my job even though it pays shit and isnt worth working, and maybe I'll enroll in SOME school even though I've most likely missed all deadlines and would have to pay out of state tuition costs. Whatever I do though, it'll be ok, maybe even better than OK.

And I really am proud of him, and happy for him.

I think I'm going to make some atkins tacos and go for a walk with Boggy.

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

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