September 9, 2003

When I was writing the date down, I was almost tempted to type the word July. I suppose that expresses the mentality that I am in and the state of denial I have that the summer is in fact over. I had my first day of school today since I have Mondays off, and I found myself wanting to go back to school already. I had been stretching my holidays as far as they could go.. taking a spontaneous trip to Niagara Falls with my boyfriend the week before school started, extending it a day, staying out late Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Drinking, sleeping, and trying to quit smoking. It also didn’t help that I don’t have school on Monday or the fact that I start at 3pm on Tuesday. I just felt like saying, “Start already!” And I find that when I anticipate something coming, it usually ends up really anti-climatic. I did enjoy the class I had today, however, and decided that it would be one class that I would use to unleash all the craziness that takes place in my head. Why do I feel the need to spill out what is going on in my mind at the moment when this is clearly not what I intended to write as for my topic? Maybe it seemed weird to just jump right into what I had planned to say. To set the scene, I am sitting in my room with the only light being the computer screen glaring into my face casting an eerie almost unhealthy glow to everything around me. Erikah Badu is singing a heartwrenching ballad softly in the background and I am trying desperately not to fall asleep while trying to finish off this bottle of cheap red wine that my dad bought in the Peller Estate in Niagara. Two incoincidental thoughts are running in my mind right now. One… the wine is evoking memories of the trip I took last week, and how I had so much fun with Sharl. It was the first trip we had taken in the year and a half that we’ve been together, and it turned out to be very sweet. We didn’t do anything really out of the ordinary, but it was definitely memorable. Rolling around on the King sized bed, contemplating getting body piercings—just because it’s something crazy to do while on vacation.… laughing at the fact that no matter where we go, we will always have bad luck with the public transportation system, and that no matter what, we will always JUST miss the bus and have to wait half an hour for the next one, only to give up and spend way too much money on a cab ride home. Oh… these little insignificant things that we share make me feel like I’m in a comfy pair of pajamas.
The second thing that the ambiance in my room is reminding me of is the nightmares that I’ve been having for the past two nights. The first nightmare took place in a public washroom. I was in a stall cleaning something off of my pants when I look up and see that there is a face looking down at me from the next stall! It was the most creepy thing ever. He was just resting his head on his arms, over the stall partition smiling at me… it still sends shudders down my spine. Then last night as I was sleeping, I rolled over and I saw a face staring at me close up. This dream made me release the most blood-curdling scream that gave me a sore throat for the rest of the day as I leaped out of bed, tangled in my sheets, and tripped while trying to stand up. I hurled my bedroom door open and ran straight into the arms of my mom as both my parents rushed out to see what was wrong. They thought that there was a burglar in the house…. Or a spider. My mom and I were both trembling as I had never before reacted this way at 1:19 in the morning. It was pretty freaky. Okay 20 minutes is up.. time to stop writing.

(687 words)

September 10, 2003

“Kimberly, do you know what I really like about you?” she started, “you are a really genuine person.”
I was talking to my friend, Angela on the phone after I called to check up on how her laser-eye surgery went. This was the third time this month that I’d heard that comment. When Vicki, who was the first last week told me that at work, I was touched. It was a wonderful compliment and I was so happy that people saw me that way. It got me questioning myself on how “genuine” I was actually being. It’s one thing to give that impression, but another to truly feel it and mean it. Who knows, maybe my quiet nature makes me seem more thoughtful, or maybe I’m just better at faking it than most people. Maybe I just play the game better. My boyfriend is the other person who tells me that I am a very genuine person. And it means the most coming from him, because he’s been the one who has experienced my ugly side—me, embarrassed, exposed and ugly. He’s seen all the hypocrisies in my life that I try desperately to hide, and has exposed me for the person I truly am.
This notion of being genuine has left an impression on me because it makes me realize that I am responsible for the people I come into contact with. If I let people into my life and they find a connection with me, I feel that I am responsible to live up to my label and be more than someone who just smiles and says, “how are you?” and runs off before the person has time to answer.
I am a high self-monitor. I read this on a personality assessment that I once did in high school as a part of this Career-Day event to find out what direction I should head for as a profession. It was cheesy little test, but it explained a lot about me. I am conscious of how I behave in public and control my actions appropriately as to make interactions with others as comfortable as possible. I can relate my mood to theirs and I’m pretty aware of how to act based on the vibes I get from them. Maybe this is why I seem real… I read people well. Who knows? But being told this has allowed me to examine myself from the inside to question whether or not I live up to being a real person. All I say is that it has helped me to consciously question the way I feel… I can only express to the outside based on what I feel on the inside. If being genuine means that I speak with my heart, then I’m happy and flattered to accept the compliment.