7:18 PM; Glen Ellyn bed
Carlos got me this fancy pen for Christmas. We opened gifts on Christmas Eve before Ari and Claire joined us for games and dinner. It was nice having them—so much nicer than being at Aunt Margie’s on Christmas Day—sitting awkwardly without anyone but Aunt Jill making the effort to talk to me. Everyone is married with good jobs. I’m such the odd one out. Painful. I met Candice’s daughter. Candice barely spoke to me. Andrew did more. He looked sickly. Like Aunt Jill. I was supposed to hang out with Mary Anne yesterday but Luna got Covid. I had breakfast with Austin, who is always so kind and encouraging.
Been playing lots of games of Splendor with Mom these days. Trying to re-take up coding, which is incredibly tedious.
When I was manic this last time, while I was in Ashland, Oregon, I met a man named Terrance at the Tesla charging station and rolled him a joint. Then we had sex at the Ashland Springs Hotel (pretty sure that’s what it was called). We went to karaoke and he accompanied me to the local sex shop where I spent $600 and tried to pimp myself out in partnership with the regional manager. Crazy. Terrance has kept in touch and supposedly wants to hire me for his solar company. If he does, I wonder how honest I’ll be when people ask how I met him.
When my stuff was still in storage in LA, I was concerned for the safety of my journals, and I wonder now why—what will I do with them? Haul them to every apartment and hope I don’t lose them. Of course I know why I keep them—bring memories back from the dead—but something seems either self-important or futile about it. I don’t want anyone else to read them, after all. I wonder if I would enjoy the diaries of Gentleman Jack.
Allie is currently on a drive to visit Kathleen. She called me from the road. Wigs is with her. Eric will look after Espy. I miss them both so, so much.
I crack my toes, ankles, neck. Austin and I spent the majority of our breakfast lamenting our age—the new aches, pains, and conditions. The drugs. The weight gain.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m sick of applying for jobs and coding, which I already spent the day doing. I want to go watch For All Mankind, but Mom and Dad are watching Fargo. Maybe I’ll re-read The Left Hand of Darkness again. Or finish listening to Conan Needs a Friend.
Tomorrow Carlos will come over with Anna for games and steak. I’m so tired of endless meat. All I do is miss California.
Next week I have an interview for a remote job. The pay isn’t very good, but I think the work would be easy—comms for a nonprofit.
I’ll be joining Jordan for NYE—we’re headed to Milwaukee and I’m nervous that I’ll feel anti-social after 2 hours.
Allie says I need to reacclimate myself to social situations or else I’ll really become a hermit. I certainly feel like one now.
I don’t know if I like this pen. It’s so heavy and the ink isn’t consistent. At least Carlos tried this year—I was touched. I’m surprised Mom and Dad got me so many gifts considering everything. I gifted Mom a felted rhino and Dad a felted ornament of a snowman. And homemade candles that I recycled from old candles I’d held onto. I gave Carlos and Anna a planet mobile for the twins. Apparently they might come within the next few weeks instead of February. Mom and Dad might be out of town. Another vacation. I’m on dog and chicken duty.
My hand is cramping. I’m getting cold. Off I go. I can hear Mom and Dad stirring—maybe they’re done with the TV.
