3-21-01. Drowning in Brooklyn
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++soundtrack: Sisters of Mercy:Some Girls Wander By Mistake++

I seem to keep thinking back to when I was this optimistic, happy go lucky girl. When I lived in Virginia (which was back in grades 7-9) there was this girl,a senior named Colleen, who called me Little Orphan Annie because of my eternal optimisim and rather cheery disposition.

And I've always felt kind of like an orphan. Never seemimg to belong in my own family, always moving from state to state, new friends, new school, new set of problems. It got me very good at adapting to new situations, and new people. Well, maybe not very good, but better than most. It made mr SEE how the cycle works, it made me aware of why people treat people the way they do sometimes. It's something I finally started to figure out post-high school, which didn't help with the trauma of always being the new kid, always on the outside.

So moving to New York didn't seem like such a big deal, just another move, right? Well, the eternal optimist has been becoming more and more increasingly jaded over the years, due to always being on the outside of life. My punk rock friends were the only ones who understood, and made me feel better - normal, like there were others who understood me. But I still managed to keep my optimism about me, somewhat, thinking things will just get better, right? People are inherently good and decent. I have this problem of thinking that most people think like I do, not wanting to hurt people, always wanting to be honest and forthcoming with people. And I knew coming here that I had to watch out for myself because I'm too trusting and didn't want to get screwed. And I have been pretty good about it. Luckily, Alyx handles most of our situations where I may be too up front about our situation, or discretion is advised, but even with his careful eye, we are still getting hosed.

I stand around our loft tonight looking at our pitiful state of things and I'm just spewing venom and negativity and I wonder where I lost myself? I don't know where the Mandi I was so proud of went. I've just turned into this sad, self concious grouch. I don't like me right now. I told Alyx tonight that I didn't want him to end up hating me for dragging him into this misery, for the fact that our existance here is a huge drag and we have no money and no friends and are bored, broke and lonely...

You see, we realized today that Steve, our landlord has screwed us out of, what has come to basically $700. We've given him $900 to pay for gas/elec for the past three months, which seems like a lot, right? Well there have been a whole series of reasons given which seemed viable, basically, but without seeing the bills, we couldn't say much. We tried to see the last bill, but the request got lost and forgotten by all parties. What did we have to worry about really? I mean we never fully trusted Steve, but I didn't think he'd fuck us this badly. (We saw a bill today looking for a stapler on his desk). I mean that $600 we gave him for it was all we had for the rent this month. We still are only going to really have 3/4 of it when we get paid over the next two days. And next month? What of that?

We realized all of this on our way rushing out the door to my doctors appointment at Planned Parenthood, which I was freaking out about being late to (and because we had no water due to pipe construction on the block). There was no need to worry, though, it was a four hour wait to see the doctor. But due to my poor fucking financial state, I got my check up and three months of pills for about $45. Which kicks ass as these things go. And I got an HIV test in the process (they don't have to take blood anymore! I HATE needles...)

So we left there to the freezing windy downpour outside which was tearing holes in umbrellas all through Brooklyn. We didn't have umbrellas to tear, so we foraged through, soaking wet, the whole 4 blocks to the subway and then the mile walk home from the subway. Soaked through. Only to get home to the lake our loft had become. And now the ceiling is leaking in two places. *sigh*

We did pretty well for the first few hours. We got lost in some old photos and clippings of our pasts. But then, I guess because it reminded us of how we used to have fun, and we both used to have friends and when shit didn't suck like this, like when home was a place of comfort and a place to enjoy...

The full blast of realization of the shit we're in came in one instance, one event. It was like a converging of all the angst of all this in one moment. It was as if life just electrocuted both of our last nerves. The last string of the fragile weave that was holding our optimism just went when Alyx went towards the sink and was almost ankle deep in a puddle. A puddle that is 20 feet from the leaky windows. One that seemingly had no source. Under the sink, the cabinet was dry... It was later upon walking the dog where my suspitions were confirmed. An even bigger lake in the hall seeping under the walls into our place.

We've moved the bed and the nightstand over to where one of my clothes racks was, away from the flood. Which was where we stored most of our miscallanious crap, so now we're in a state of disarray, again. Clothes rack in the middle of the floor, crates of junk, suitcases, camera bags, and vacuum cleaners with no home. Not they they had one before, but at least they tucked neatly away against that wall. I say we just put pool floats over where the bed was...

***see, we have a loft, so it's one giant room - no closets or anything. It's a big triangular room with a kitchen "area" and a bathroom.

So that's when we both kinda lost it. Started to really wallow and get pissed.

Oh - but I did get the $40 mystery calls taken off my phone bill. It took Alyx grabbing the phone and saying "Listen lady, I don't know who called this hotel info line in Long Island, but it wasn't one of us..." blah blah blah... What kind of hotel info line charges $20 per call? And who the fuck did it? Alyx never uses the house line, he uses his cell phone. And I sure as hell didn't... BUT! It's gone... So that's something.

I wish I had written more while shooting the film so you could have heard good things come out of my diary...

I just want to get to LA. I just want life to be able to start. I just want to find ME again. I want my friends and my art AND my love. And I know things will be better once we can settle down. I feel like I've never had roots. I started to feel them in Orlando, but I knew I didn't want them there. Now I wish I had stayed at least for a little while longer. I would have been better off...

Hell, even my mom doesn't want to hear about my crappy life anymore, she wasn't paying attention AT ALL last time I talked to her. It gets worse every call. Once she heard about how the dog was doing she kept trying to go and wasn't really listening.

And I was going to try and have an Oscar party, but decided I couldn't bear having another party where no one showed up. I think it would push me over the edge - right into the looney bin...

Maybe if little Orphan Annie has never met Daddy Warbucks she'd be living in a shitty loft in Brooklyn, too...