it's kind of like kicking yourself in the ass.. this putting your life on the internet thing. it's like saying "here i am, watch me" and you don't expect anyone to respond. just to watch. like a movie.

sure you can yell at the screen or complain about the movie afterwards to your friends but you can't go directly to the director or the person who wrote the screenplay [unless you're really well connected] and complain about plots, characters or the script.

but on the internet you can go to the person who wrote what you didn't like. you can go to the person who wrote about you and say "hey thanks" or "i didn't agree with what you said."

when i first started my journal, many moons ago, i wrote a disclaimer. it basically said:

what i write is how i feel. do not ask me to change how i feel. do not tell me how i felt at the moment i wrote it or try to figure out how i felt at the moment i wrote it.

i will write things that are irrational. i will say things that aren't always thought out and processed before i put them down on paper [or my virtual paper]. i will probably make some of my readers angry or hurt them. but i'm sure that there are people out there who i will inspire.

but i don't do this for anyone but me. do not try to censor me. do not offer your opinions. i do not want them. i will not read them.

i do not do this for you. but i do hope that it might inspire you.. or it might intrigue you.. or i might move you..

but even if i don't.. i'll still keep doing this. and i'll do it for only me.

everyone can say evil things about what i wrote yesterday or any day for that matter. my inbox was full of people telling me 'what i shouldn't have said' or saying that 'i seem pretty full of myself' and for a moment it bothered me. i thought "hey, i'll delete the entry or i'll write a retraction. it was a spur of the moment thing. it wasn't meant to be mean."

but as i compsed a response to someone who had written me i realized...

fuck you. these are my thoughts. this is my head. this is my space on the internet. this isn't your space. i sit here infront of my screen giving you my world and you dare to tell me what i can say or suggest to me what i said should be deleted?

there are a lot of people on the internet who don't say things because they fear hurting someone's feelings, even if what they want to say is how they truly feel. what i say to those people is say it. let your inbox fill with hate mail or words of encouragement. don't do it for anyone but yourself.

because that's when you lose a grasp on who you are. it took me this long to realize why i was lost. it was because i felt this need to make the whole world ok with what i had to say. but that's not how i was raised and that's how i want to be seen. as an edited person. the person who kisses ass and hides how she feels.

i will continue to say what i want to say. i will do it with tact. i will not be exceptionally evil.. but i will be me. i will not be the me i once thought i had to mold myself into being.

say what you want to say and i'll say what i want to say.

moral of this entry: i will not edit myself for anyone, especially you.

this letter was never really meant to be seen. but after i found it in my 'drafts' box in my hotmail account i decided to finish it and post it. it was the most interesting thing that has happened to me today...

dearest boy who winks at the crowd-

it was around feb. 5th that i sent you an e-mail. i didn't really expect a response but as i saw your e-mail sitting in my inbox my heart leapt for a second. it was strange to be excited by something that trivial. i felt like a little girl getting a note from a boy. it really didn't matter what boy but that it was a boy.

i think i took more stock in what you said then i should have. there was this sense of you being higher than i was and i wanted to reach up for your hand and have you pull me up there with you. i didn't know much about you. i knew that i wanted to know more. that was when i decided to throw myself into your world of words and expose part of myself to you.

i guess i never really got around to exposing any part of myself to you but i did jump into your world of words. it felt as if sometimes i was wrapping myself up into this warm blanket of supposed reality. your words were crisp, clear, precise. they reminded me of how i once wrote before my mind became flooded with work and family and life.

i felt special when you revealed a project to me before most people saw it. it sent this tingle to my fingers as i read it and my eyes scanned across the screen over and over. i still read that first thing you wrote and laugh to myself. little did i know that soon my name would be there. i would actually be part of you world of words and i wouldn't just be watching you write. i would be the one written about.

i was getting sicker [physically] as we talked, that had nothing to do with you. but my body was yelling at me to stop what i was doing and sleep for three weeks. i laughed at it. you were concerned and called and called. your voice was like this gentle wave over my tired ears at times. i saved messages from you on my machine so that i could listen to them.

but just like when i deleted the e-mails because they were taking up too much space.. i deleted the messages. i'm a pack rat too. i have napkins from first dates and rose petals from my first bouquet of roses. i saved prom glasses and plane tickets. but my current state of life doesn't need old e-mails and old messages.

the thought of you moving to san francisco excited me. but at the same time it made me tired. would i be what you expected? would i be able to handle you in person? would you be what i expected? but really my tired body and heart just couldn't handle the thoughts.

i'm sitting here in seattle now. the drive was so long and when i pulled up to a random gas station i went inside. they had stewart's soda. i thought of you and i bought one. i just wanted you to know i got here and i'm ok. i'm sure you're fine, probably confused with your own life, but at the same time i hope you're ok. my leaving has probably made you relieved. that i'm moving on and doing what i need to do.

but i guess we both know that this won't work. that i'm not the girl you want to be with. or at least i'm sure i won't be the girl you want to be with when i return. i'm more head strong when i'm clear. i'm more pushy when i'm clear. i'm a bigger bitch when i'm clear. if we were ever to get together [whatever the chance could be] if we were to be a couple, holding hands on the MUNI or falling asleep with each other at night.. i'd always be wondering what girl you were watching or what girl you had a crush on.

it's stupid of me to wonder about the future [no matter how stupid the thoughts are], when really...it's so uncertain but i had a lot of time to think in the car, alone, with only mixed tapes and cds to talk to me. they reminded me that unless i'm ok with me and i'm certain of me then i can't give anyone anything...

if fate made me e-mail you that one day.. the maybe fate will let us bump into each other in a few months or a year... i'll be the girl reading a torn, tattered, used book with holes in her jeans, bleach stains on her t-shirt and probably broken, battered guitar nails. maybe you won't notice me and perhaps i won't notice you..

but it happened once over a computer.. i'm sure that it could happen again, in the flesh... i guess we just have to wait.. and see.

take care.. i'm thinking of you,
--yana

"i read his old e-mails and i want to cry," i told sarah over my shoulder as she sat on brandon's couch reading my book, the virgin suicides.

"you are so fucking flippy," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"what???" i exclaimed turning around to face her, slightly hurt by her comment.

"all i hear is 'he's girl crazy' or 'he's better off chasing after the cute girls then wasting time with me' and then you say things like 'i read his old e-mails and i want to cry' or 'i wonder what he's doing right now' . get over yourself. you don't need anyone because you're not in the right mindset to be with anyone. you just want someone. you also just want someone to be totally infatuated with you."

i didn't respond to her and turned back towards the computer.

"don't get angry at me," she pleaded, "but you know i'm right."

she wasn't right. but i didn't waste my time replying to her. she had her misconceptions just like i had mine.

"do you want to go get coffee?" i asked a few minutes later.

"do you actually want to talk about this?"

"there isn't much to say," i shrugged as i got up from the computer chair and stretched out my body.

"then i guess i should just go," she growled, grabbing her bag and standing up.

"what is up with you sarah??"

"you are fucking yourself up with all these guys and infatuations and feelings you can't handle. i watched you ignore your reflection in the mirror before when you brushed your teeth. i watched you eat one plate of french fries all day yesterday. i watch you. i watch you because sam and your mother can't yet and all those people you 'know' on the internet can't watch you. lord knows if they even would know you well enough to watch you if they were around you, in the physical sense," she blurted out, angrily.

she stood there, out of breath, her hands on hips and her eyes burning into me.

i fell, into a sitting position, where i stood and sighed into the silence. she quickly sat next to me and wrapped her hand around mine.

"i just don't know what to do."

"when are you leaving?" she asked, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"sam and oliver are going to be here on wednesday. we'll probably leave on friday."

"good. get out of here and stop wasting your time on all this boy crap."

i nodded and we stood up quickly.

we threw on our jackets and walked quietly to my car and as we came within a few feet of it, she grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"do you know what friday is?" she asked.

"umm the 21st?" i mumbled, counting clumsily forward in my head.

"sierra died on the 21st of april," she sighed, glancing up at the sky.

"more of a reason for me to go to canada," i sighed, as memories of last year flooded into my head.

"why?"

"sierra loved canada. she always tried to make me go with her during spring break."

"i wish i had known her better," sarah shrugged as we continued our walk towards my car.

i smiled, weakly and unlocked the door for her. as we slid into the car and i turned it on i sat there, wondering.

would people be saying that about me when i died or if i died suddenly like sierra? would the people who gathered at my funeral be saying 'i wish i had known her better'.

i guess it's hard to let everyone know you as much as some people..but still.. i hope not.

the boy, greg, sat across from me in the crowded sticky denny's booth kept glancing over at my food.

"do you want a french fry?" i asked him, pushing the plate towards him.

"sure, thanks," he smiled taking some for himself.

"don't let greg get to you," brandon laughed, leaning into me and reaching his hand towards my plate

"huh?" i asked, pushing his hand away.

"he uses his charms to get free food from women."

"just women?" i asked, directing the question to greg with raised eyebrows.

"yes. i've learned to use my charms on women to get things such as food," he replied with a goofy smile.

"get anything else out of the deal?" i pulled my plate away from him, feeling gullible.

"yeah lots of stuff i guess. except for sex. sex isn't something to charm a woman into," he smiled, popping the last french fry he had stolen from me into his mouth.

i laughed. he must have thought i really was that gullible.
---
"when i have kids, i'm going to put them on a leash," greg informed us.

"isn't that a tad big cruel?" brandon asked.

"hey my parents did it that me," ned, piped up from the booth behind us that was filled with brandon's rowdy friends.

"damn ned. thanks for ruining my dreams," greg snickered.

"huh?" ned asked, poking his head between me and brandon's.

"well look how you turned out. i'll be damned if my kids are going to turn out like you. you're a freak."

"oh that's a big insult coming from you," ned rolled his eyes and turned back around.

"what? what's wrong with me?" greg asked, patting himself down and looking at the people seated around our table for some answer.

"do we have a few days? cus well we'd all need a few days to go into that," brandon chuckled as greg threw ice at him.

boys. they never grow up.
---
"that's all you're going to leave for a tip?" sarah exclaimed pushing kevin in the stomach.

"yeah, why?" he shrugged, glancing at the 4.00 on the table.

"cus you guys were horrible!"

"yeah but she wasn't cute."

"oh my god i can't believe you just said that!" she yelled.

"oh like you haven't given someone a tip just because they're cute," he laughed, pushing his wallet into his back pocket.

she stood there silently and gazed over at me. i tried not to laugh but let out a loud giggle as i pulled my jacket around my shoulders.

"it's not the same thing!" she exclaimed, pointing at me and kevin.

"if you wanna be equal and all that womanly feminist jazz then yes it is the same, deal with it."

he was right but really.. all women are considered feminists these days. the requirements? breasts and a uterus. those are pretty easy to come by these days.

you can even buy them if you really want to.

but really.. i don't think you do.

dimanche.16.avril.2000