i'm hanging out at my parent's house today... they live about 20 minutes from gabe's so i try to come out on weekends, since i'm going back to portland in september and i won't see them... i like reading the newspaper in the morning too, and the abundance of fruit that my mother buys. today i sat on the porch and read my che guevara biography, which is fascinating. i kind of picked it up randomly at gabe's, but it's turning out to be really good. i like south america. and revolutionaries.
my dad rented "amelie", and we just finished watching it... i liked the way it was filmed, with really saturated color, like a painting. it was lovely.
on friday i donated plasma for the first time since i've been here, and made $20! the plasma center is conveniently located 4 blocks from gabe's house, and the people there were much less scummy than at the one in portland. and they show movies while you're donating, which could be nice, except they were playing this movie that took place in a hospital, with lots of shooting and bloody patients and running around frantically. which didn't really calm my nerves as i sat there with a big needle in my arm. and it took an hour and a half, twice as long as normal, because my blood flow was too slow or something. the whole time i was trying not to stare at the needle in my vein, trying not to think of all the times in portland when they fucked up my vein and blood went everywhere... they use these humongous needles too, about as big as your finger, and all the nurses were so busy watching the movie, the guy just stuck the needle in like an afterthought, like "oh, oops, there goes the needle." luckily everything went fine though, besides it taking too long. i never had a fear of needles before i started donating plasma.
i met gabe for coffee after that, but i felt ill from the ordeal, so we went home and i collapsed on the bed, until his parents came to take us out for dinner. we went to an indian restaurant and ate good food. gabe's mom smokes now. that's weird. gabe smokes too. ugh. cigarettes make me feel sick lately.
when we were leaving, gabe nudged me and loudly whispered "say goodbye to my dad!" so i did. according to gabe, multitudes of people have been insulted when i neglected to say goodbye to them. who knew! i always have this feeling that i'm halfway sinking into the woodwork-- i came unnoticed and i can slip away unnoticed. i'm usually someone else's friend, no one was there to see me anyway, why would they notice if i didn't say goodbye? if i don't say anything they won't remember i was there the whole time... my dad always accuses me of being embarrassed to be alive. he's probably right. i should try to change that. but it's hard.
that quote from waking life-- "as the pattern becomes more intricite and subtle, being swept along is no longer enough." it haunts me. i always thought being swept along was a viable option. it's so nice, being overwhelmed and passively accepting it. like riding along in a bus, staring out the window as the spectacle drifts by. the spectacle. you can't be actively involved in it. if you do, it becomes real. no one knows, i live in a dream.
ps. does it get annoying how i change the design of my diary every 5 minutes?