Saturday, Jul. 28, 2007 1:32 p.m.

keep the aspidistra flying

it's a usual tradition, the saturday morning movie at AMC. $6 before noon.

the bathroom stall afterwards, the same bathroom I wrote this. irony is a overused word, but it made me smile, remembering. joy comes far too infrequently.

I'm now sitting at a coffee shop. the same coffee shop I wrote this. thinking. I want to relive that moment.

memories flood my thoughts. an indistinguishable flow of consciousness...occasional wreaked recollections breaking the surface, bobbing along here and there.

I had a friend who once told me that she always believed that if there is one person who would make it in this crazy entertainment world, it�d be K. today the perpetually optimistic K told me that he knows his dream died a long time ago...and that he just hasn�t let himself admit it. but that he might soon.

do I let him admit it? is it even true?

he also told me that he�s sorry I married him. I know he doesn�t mean it, but I know he wishes he could offer me more.

these pregnant girls everywhere I look are freaking me out. it slaps me in the face; reminding me of all that I don�t have...specifically singling out my, i.e. our, lack of stability. we can�t even move to a place that has a working kitchen drain because we don�t know if we can afford an extra $100 in rent after this month. we could never afford to have a kid.

we don�t know anything beyond the month, beyond the week, that we are currently living.

are you tired of my entries about this? I�m even more tired to keep writing them.

he has a temp job. it�s might even be long term. it�s not what he wants to do...but I begged him today to try it anyways. I don�t know if I�m being selfish; I don�t know how to judge it anymore. him or me? one or both? or neither?

I thought, when I entered school two years ago, that I could chase my dream when I was finished. now that I am, I realize that we can�t both chase ours at the same time. so who gets to? do I let him, though, a year and a half later, he�s only farther from it than when he began? but should I expect him to give his up to let me try mine?

no one tells you these answers.

I remember the days when writing in this diary made my problems more manageable, I remember when my online diaryland friends would leave notes, sometimes encouraging, sometimes realistic, but always helpful. I remembering feeling as though I was not alone. I remembering when letting it out was all I needed to jumpstart a solution.

I remember when I was actually entertaining, when entry upon entry wasn�t filled with complaining, when my depressing rants were relatable, and people actually cared. I don�t know why I still write in here...I guess because more than when I wrote in here years and years ago � I�ve really got no place else to go anymore.

I used to at least be surrounded by others my age going through the exact same thing as myself � now I�m just the only one not pregnant, not living in a house, not holding down a steady job.

we�re 26 and 27. he�s a temp, I�m a camp counselor. we�re stuck in a perpetual backwash, the tide pulling in and out, granting us neither the freedom of open sea nor the stability of dry land.

our lives were not supposed to be this.

years ago, I read a book called keep the aspidistra flying by george orwell. I keep thinking of it because I never thought I�d relate to it as much as I now do. it�s about chasing an unattainable dream, withering away in the process...accepting the dream�s demise, and carving life out of the wreckage. or at least, this is my interpretation right now.

I think it might be time to swallow the fact that I will never be who I thought I was going to be.

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