I imagine I'm moving forward alone, and the crowds are rushing toward me, passing me, going in the other direction. That's how I feel on campus, completely out of place and affronted by all the others. It's such a different world from my old one, where I was in control and constantly praised and given a high salary. Now money is a big problem, and I can't let go of work and I can't embrace the student life because it seems so indulgent and irresponsible and dangerous. Dangerous because I'm distancing myself from the thing which has sustained me for my entire adult life. Am I anything without it? I'm scared to find out.
Training would be a constant, a positive, but instead it's miserable for me. I can't train and my shoulder hurts so much and I'm so upset just watching and not moving and getting so fat that it only compounds my identity crises.
Tomorrow night I'm making dinner for a small group of friends to celebrate one of their birthdays. I hope it goes well. Then this weekend I will start reading for all of my classes.
That's what a good student would do, right?
SGL, 10:54pm
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
I feel very. Not any one thing, just VERY. Lots of feelings. I apologize to Ali, but how does one apologize correctly for this? I'm sorry I'm psychotic. That's what I say. He thinks I'm telling a joke.
I can't seem to share these things with him. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out.
But it's more than that, isn't it?
The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away.
And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it.
SGL, 6:21pm
Friday, August 22, 2003
It's so hard to be consistant. It's so hard to understand. Without time pushing me, I would go nowhere.
It's been so long since I've trained with all my might, and I think part of this feeling, this out-of-my-mind feeling, is due to that. I depend on hard training for so much, and lately I've been unable. I want so badly to have approval in that world, to transform myself into something worthwhile, and I simply can't.
Tonight is the over night training, the anti-terrorist training, the smoke-bomb training. I won't go, because I have enough trouble pouring myself a cup of coffee right now, let alone disarming a mock terrorist. My hand is swollen, my shoulder's torn, my heart is heavy. I'll take sleeping pills and go to bed early.
Last night Ali says, "you're depressed." I burst into tears and say "no I'm not." Then we eat dinner. Today he calls to postpone our lunch date, because Master has asked him to be at the school instead. I say "okay, no problem," but what I mean is "you make me feel expendable."
SGL, 12:04pm
Thursday, August 21, 2003
My nickname today, "fat hand." Not very inventive.
Stung by a wasp, ballooned up, nature's way of showing me what truly large and swollen is. It's better, after 24 hours of ice and meds, but it's still freakishly huge. I hope it doesn't inhibit my work today, because I'm with my favorite clients.
I must train alone tonight, in the upstairs dojang, because I can be of no use in a group training situation.
But I feel happy. Oddly happy.
School starts in just 6 days!
SGL, 10:18am
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
After weeks of thinking "This is me, this is my body, this is how I look, I accept this," I've finally returned to my old, true self. My lack of control in regard to food is disgusting, and I feel so fat it's ruining my normal daily pleasures. Last night I inhaled almost an entire batch of rice crispy treats just before bed. Horrible. I feel horrible. I feel gross. I feel that I can't hold up my head because everywhere I see people judging me, thinking I'm fat, thinking I should stop eating. I feel that something must change.
It won't, though. Never will.
Ali and I have a checking account together now. I don't know why, but I feel we're in a different place, now.
SGL, 10:10am
Monday, August 18, 2003
It's hard to know what to do. In general, the messages are so mixed and so contradictory and so strong and so seductive, it's hard to choose rightly.
All last week I slept as if I would never have the chance again. If I wasn't asleep, I was eating. When not eating, asleep. It was a week now hazy in my memory, but a pleasant hazy. As I emerge from it, and approach the crystal clear start of school, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
I made fun of Megan for reading such high brow lit as Henry James, but now I'm hopelessly hooked on Portrait of a Lady. So hooked, in fact, that it will be quite difficult to make myself go to kids' class tonight, when instead I could be in the AC, curled up, reading. Harder still to make myself go to work tomorrow, where a day of sessions awaits.
UT's new policy on admissions (affirmative action) will most likely knock me out of the running for Law School next year. I'm not sure what alternatives to consider. I feel my insides thudding together at this premonition.
SGL, 4:33pm
Thursday, August 14, 2003
I talk in my sleep. I never remember, and I'm never aware. Ali tells me every morning what I say as I'm drifting off. This has been both good and bad for our relationship. The walls come tumbling down.
Last night I asked Master if I could talk to him. He said yes. We walked in his office. I started crying. This is a very embarassing thing. I'm having trouble thinking about it.
1 week until school starts. 2 weeks until my Law School Application is sent in. How long until I figure out who I am and where I want to go?
I've turned into a schlub. I no longer touch up my makeup hourly. I no longer wear heals. I rarely wear my hair down. I never wear skirts or dresses. My uniform has become dobok pants and a tank top. My nails are never nice, because that would hurt the quality of my fists. All of this must contribute to the way I see myself, to the amount of pretty, sexy, alluring I feel in myself. Lately, that is none.
The pumdan belt is heavy. It's hard to wear. I feel like there are so many critical eyes now, on me as I train. I feel like I'm supposed to fulfill a role now, where before I was just striving to be the best I could be.
Last night Ali taught nunchuck techniques. At one point he said "Shay, concentrate. Don't make sad faces in here." and I jumped, because I hadn't been aware I was making a "sad face," and I had been concentrating very much. A few minutes later he said "Stop making pouty faces! Why are you doing that? CONCENTRATE" and I was so frusterated, because I WAS concentrating, and I wasn't pouting, and I hate nunchucks.
Now I feel closed off. Don't let any emotions go to the surface, be a statue, yah, that's a good goal. Tuck in the shell, stay alone, stay safe, stay down.
I'm gonna drink coffee and wait for the foul mood to lift.
SGL, 10:43am
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
I just ate 2 pieces of pizza. Delicious. Food is really a reason to live. Maybe it's just mine.
Last night in Black Belt Club Master said "If you tested and failed, right now I retest you" and it was done. I have a new belt. I was so nervous. I will never test again.
My new camera is fun. Master looked at one of the pictures I took and said "It's funny, that moment is gone, never come back. Soon as you take the picture, it's gone." and I look at him, and everyone else, and think of how glad I am to be around him.
Ali and I have been going through a bottle of wine a night, usually a pinot grigio or a moscato. Soon I'm going to take a course about wine and cheese with Cass and maybe Michele. I love that.
I asked Master if I should quit Black Belt Club since my shoulder has prevented me from training even once with the club, and he said no. I was so relieved, because I don't want to quit.
The pizza is weighing me down. I need to find some enthusiasm and energy. Or maybe just some more pizza.
SGL, 1:24pm
Friday, August 01, 2003
Passion is never a wasted effort. Or is it?
"Perhaps the essential role of the ego is to mask from consciousness its very spontaneity." - Jean-Paul Sartre
