2/26/98 - Another New Me (Yawn)

2/26/98 - Borders, Downtown S.F.

So, here we are. A new journal, and I feel like creating a whole new life for myself to record. As little credence as I wish to give to horoscopes, I was encouraged by mine today: in six months' time, I will have forgotten what's worrying me now. If only that could be true!

In many ways, life does truly suck right now, but it seems inevitable that it's all about to be turned upside down...ANYTIME NOW. One at a time:

1. John and I are headed for breakup, quite possibly this weekend. We've been bickering more often these past weeks, and he's getting sick of my whining. [What? Me whine?] I answered his ad mostly because I thought we shared the same taste in music, but it's been ten months of giddy Bananarama. [Not that there's anything wrong with Bananarama. I love a good 12" remix of "I Heard A Rumour" as much as anyone.] John's tastes are all dessert, no dinner. Can I commit to a steady diet of a life with little nutritive value? No, and it's time has come for a decision. I can't live my life as the sixth Go-Go (or seventh; John would be the sixth), and I've been scoping out the alternatives.

What an alternative I've found! Kyle Resnick is gorgeous, charming, educated, artistic, successful, and we have a sizzling chemistry. I don't know whether we'll go for a long time, but I know this: I want to date him. I want to spend some time in his world. It's time for an upgrade. [Ouch.]

I still have strong feelings for John, but that's for another entry. [Cold. This entry was all about me, me, me, and once I'd disposed of both John and Kyle in a few sentences, it was onward...]

2. Finance. If Grandma comes thru, my troubles aren't over exactly, but the light at the end of the tunnel will be in sight, I look forward to wresting some control over my financial life. I don't totally hate my new job, and it's marginally more lucrative. This will happen.

3. Writing. I'm thinking about something I read in which writers suffer a need to write, about it being like an addiction. I wonder sometimes if the roots of all my other neuroses come form somewhere similar. Would twenty pages a day bring tranquility to my soul? Instead of bilious personal rantings, should I be filling this book with stories? [The answer, of course, is and was "yes!" So I wrote about meeting Kyle in story form.]

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