July 25, 2005 - 9:43 a.m.
Frustration. Journal entry made yesterday, (July 24th) has not posted online yet. Some older entries are still missing. Entries with digital pics attached seem to have the highest percentage of problems in my journal.
Confusion. Holding onto pleasant memories only. Deleting the hurtful, disappointing ones. Realizing some people can never fully understand another person's point of view, individual perspective. Much easier to label them as difficult, mean spirited. One person's honesty, belief system is another person's disappointment, betrayal. To keep my own sanity, I save the positive, colorful, black-and-white reels in my head. Frames of happiness and mutual respect. Deleted and cropped the hazy shots. Discarded the blurred, out-of-focus ones. No longer have to say what's wrong with them anymore. If I can pass along any sage advice, it would be this small sprinkle of truth... Don't let words entangle you. Trip you up. Mean what you say and say what you mean. Otherwise, you get labeled the mean person. Even worse, a person who is cruel and uncaring.
What I like(d) about her is creative, artistic enthusiasm. At times, a display of mutual respect. It came and went for other people. Other known musicians. I was never really sure how she felt about my artistic abilities, joint collaboration. Disappointment finally took its toll and ended our monthly meetings. Feelings of disconnection, missing pieces. Not getting invited to hear a lead vocalist sing in public. For whatever reason. Of course, i did not believe it had anything to do with me. Part of a story that couldn't be materialized. The tangled web.
I keep the pleasant memories. Smell of fresh baked bread, muffins. Laughter of seeing pets dressed up like cowboys. Lugging heavy guitars and equipment up a flight of steps. Sharing favorite foods. Not being a moocher or expecting someone to provide cold beverages during rehearsal. Lessons in friendship and reciprocity. Hopefully learned and relearned on both sides.
Identified person is right about one thing. I have nothing to offer at the present moment. Hand of friendship wasn't good enough on many different levels. When your last email goes unanswered, there lies your final answer. I never promised a rose garden, relationship, or physical intimacy. Although censored thoughts had crossed my mind several times.
Looking at my current situation, I can promise nothing but to live my life one day at a time. To the fullest, best day possible. I know I have stated this goal several times. To the point of being redundant, boring. I'll hush now and go back to living. Not sure I want to continue updating my journal if the entries keep disappearing, and not getting restored correctly. After 500 entries, you run out of original ideas and thoughts unless stimulated by someone, some event, somewhere else. Some distant place. Inside you. I guess that's the point of writing. To share common experiences, highs and lows, and everything in between.
~ Soldier Girl
