READ ME ... yeah, right. Right?

I'm sick of everyone else having on-line diaries. I want one too.

What is this all about? Maybe you should read the READ ME READ ME.

august 23, 1996: W H A T ? . . .

C O M M U N I C A T I O N is impossible.
relish the noninstance.

Communication, I have decided, is impossible.

Why even bother?

We all see a different world when we perceive. We point at things and call them predetermined words that were arbitrarily selected by the people in power who selected them.

Yet, while the term might be the same, the perception is not.

I don't even expect anyone to understand me any more.

I struggle for hours trying to figure out what someone meant after they have said something. If it is on line, I log the conversation and reread it. If it is oral or face to face, I scribble notes in my diary and reread that.

I just don't get people.

Because, by the time that I reach some sort of clarity, viewing the statement in question in context with the others, and I think that I have achieved some level of understanding, the person has by then changed his or her mind and no longer thinks that way.

Or, alternatively, I have reached an understanding of that person's behavior and patterns that she or he has not even acheived herself.

It is just not worth it. We don't understand ourselves. We don't understand others.

Why fucking bother.





or, if you must, back to Rebecca's Revenge

Copyright 1996 Rebecca Eisenberg All rights Reserved.