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May 19, 2003

Guilty as Charged

I watched the unauthorized Martha Stewart drama, and I must say, I loved it. Who cares whether or not more than 90% of it is an overdramatized, fabricated story? The world will now see Martha as I do: a manipulative, psychopathic woman, suffering from chronic menopausal symptoms. Literally making marshmallows from scratch does not make you a talented person. Inviting innocent school aged children to bake 19th century German apple fritters is not a form of charity. Chopping your own douglas firs and then sculpting them into the likenesses of dead presidents is not a charming hobby; it is a deadly obsession. Anyone who sees Martha Stewart as America's godmother has seriously spent way too much time shearing their own sheep and then weaving wool at the loom. Three cheers to Cybil Shepard for taking the time to do such an excellent made for TV special. The flower arrangements were wonderful, by the way.

I had a very interesting time while eating dinner with Alina tonight. You see, I was honest. Really honest. I haven't done that in a while (well, not out loud, anyway), and it felt good to hear myself say the things I'd been thinking for so long. Tonight I realized that a part of me was still missing the feeling I had whenever I was with Matt. Make that the feeling I usually had. When I sit down and weigh the pros and cons (and believe me, there's a heck of a lot of cons), I can't forget the fact that I felt complete when with him. Maybe that's an awful thing to say... I'm probably setting myself up for a lot of co-dependency problems in the future, but I still feel the same. I loved knowing that I could always run up and call someone, and have them listen to every word without giving it a second thought. Sure, there are people in my life right now who could probably do the same thing... But most of them don't have the time. Some of them don't even really know how, and I don't feel as if I want to take the time and teach them. It isn't natural.

I'm inspired by him. When I think about it, it was a lot like having my own personal muse. I honestly believe that most of what I've written before I ended our friendship was much more quality than anything after. I miss being able to blab on and on about a story idea--just anything at all--and have it all make sense. Everything worked. Everything fit together.

Did I throw all of that away? I'm not sure. I loved him, God knows that. I couldn't have asked for a more loyal friend. But loving someone doesn't work when you have to watch them fail time and time again. Loving only goes so far when they begin to hurt themselves and then in turn hurt you. Loving a person isn't quite as grand when they start destroying things you've hoped for, taking control of the thoughts and actions of others in the process. Love isn't manipulative. It isn't scheming, devious, or blackened. It doesn't take you for a joy ride and then stab you in the back.

Alina says to call him, and I'm not so sure. It just feels so wrong, like some kind of guilty pleasure. You can only burn your hand on the stove once without looking stupid, right? I was really stunned Saturday night when Noga mentioned something to some freshman girl I'd never seen before. "They haven't spoken in two years," she told her ominously. I couldn't believe it. It was really almost two years.

Sometimes I think I'm an awful, selfish person.

Today's Soundtrack: "I've Got a Brand New Jones," Thicke

Best Part of the Day: Alex's mad scientist discussion.

posted at 10:58 p.m.

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