Well let me be the first to say that I don't have a clue
I haven't updated in a long time. I haven't said anything meaningful in a really long time. I miss my computer. But not really. Because I've grown to like this big screen. It's lack of portability is what bothers me most.
I suppose I shouldn't tell other people that they haven't been themselves, when I haven't exactly been what I used to be. If there is one this I detest, it's hypocrisy.
But it's really hard sometimes, to retain everything. To stop it from spilling out of you, like water running over, ready to be evaporated, soaked up, never to be seen again. And I think sometimes I cry because there are things going that I don't want to go...some stuff isn't meant to be dissolved, some stuff I'm not ready to give away.
It's possible I have no idea what I am talking about. Or I just feel that way because I walked away from the computer for five minutes.
Lately I've felt like I've had no depth. I haven't felt capable of making those entries Emi used to look forward to. I'm sure there wasn't a single person who was looking forward to my last retarded rambling. Don't think I don't want to change that though. I hate being unable to express myself, or worse, feeling like there isn't anything worth expressing.
I guess I'm going to try to write about whatever comes into my head. I'll warn you in advance that it's probably going to be really random. If this scares you, or it's too much to handle, here's the end for you, adios. You can officially stop reading now.
Theresa and I went to see Eternal Sunshine on Saturday. I loved it. It made me so happy, it was such a great movie, and I can't wait to have it for myself (speaking of, doesn't Love Actually come out this week Muffin?). Anyway, apparently some bitch gave us a dirty look when we were kissing during the credits. I mean, it wasn't even like we were making out, or practically fucking in these two rocking seats at shitty little Loews in Middletown. We were basically having a moment so to speak. A moment between two people that someone felt it was ok to run right through. Despite the fact that I didn't get to see her lovely expression, this intrusion haunted me through dinner. We were unfortunate enough to be seated in the bar section of Fridays which was just overflowing with heterosexual bravado and sluttitude. I think this just made me feel even worse, and we ended up having a discussion about various random gay issues, coming out, peoples perceptions of gayness, etc. I felt really shitty and self conscious. I think we all know this is a rare occurence (at least the self conscious part, frankly I can't speak for the shitty) and it made me really upset. It sort of reminds me of Emi's entry about gay marriage. Here I was, trying to escape reality, to have a nice night out with the person I love, and I was hit full force with a different type of reality, one that I apparently don't have to come to terms with that often. Why should I feel bad? Why shouldn't I be able to kiss the person I love in front of the rest of the world without it causing a major meltdown for someone? Why should I have to be afraid that if I touch her, hold her hand, whatever, there is the slight possibility that I could put us in danger? Like I said, to summarize, I had a really good time. I'm glad we went out, just the two of us, and the movie was great, and the dinner was great, but I just felt like a piece of shit. A second class, second rate, second to everything citizen in this good ol' fucking United States of America.
I find it odd how some of my pores are really visible. Odd and gross. Or impossibly human.
I do not look forward to the custody hearing next Monday. I could say my dad should rot in hell, but I don't even care. He's just a piece of shit. He should just drop all of this because everyone knows he's only doing it b/c he's too cheap to pay child support. I really don't want to go. But there is no way in hell I wouldn't go. I can't wait for this mess to be over. The sooner the better. I just want everything to stop. I want to stop feeling like a freak and an exhibit to be studied in my own home. I'm not a crazy off the wall slut party machine. I don't smoke crack or push every drug under the sun on tons of innocent minors. I don't cheat on tests, I don't get drunk every night, I don't beat anyone (not anyone who doesn't like it anyway ;P), I don't molest adolescents or brainwash them with my scary lesbian ways. I don't do anything but run around like a maniac, trying to take care of two kids, my girlfriend, a house, cars, a dog, a cat, whatever...I don't do anything but try to make things perfect so these fucking morons who have no idea about anything don't take everything away from me. Its fucking ridiculous. The other day T and I were at Wal Mart and we saw this woman saying all this shit to her like eight year old daughter, saying fuck to her, telling her she was going to beat her...and we just looked at each other....they want to take children away from us?! There are real problems, and real kids who need help, who are living in a shithole, being abused, and they want to try to put two teenagers in foster care just because a fat ass and his slutbag wife make empty accusations? Once again, I love you America.
Oh there I go, being the crazy subversive liberal queer woman again. Well lock me up and fuck me in the ass Bush.
Hate to be a traitor, but I just love Minute Maid Valencia Orange soda. It is the best orange soda I've had in forever. It is so fucking good.
I miss Emi. More than I can ever remember missing a friend. Everything is so messed up, and I just want to fix it. I want things to be like they used to. I want her to be happy. As she so aptly pointed out, we used to do nothing. On one of my crying binges, I thought about how I used to sit on the end of her bed, and we'd talk about anything, everything. I remember the time she was at her computer and I fell asleep in a weird shape, sort of like an L against her footboard. I remember how we used to sit on the couch and play Tricky. I remember how freshman year when I came back after Easter she picked me up at South Station, me looking like a complete fool with egg cakes and other various bags of shit in tow. I remember how I used to make entries that I felt she was the only one I wanted to be able to read me, so I'd block everyone else out. I remember steak and cheese, trips to Maine, talks of the gay, slerp and soad, all of our various love crisis', her birthday. I remember she'll eat anything as long as it falls into the catagory of leftovers, that I would never want her to feel like she was "in an after school special." I remember when I realized I was wrong about her, or that my entire life was wrong, and when I chose to make it right I just hoped she'd forgive me for being such a stupid asshole. I remember that she listens, that she was the first person to try to make my birthday a great day, that horrible Valentines day dinner :P We have laughed and cried and every impossible thing in between. She has protected me and cared about me and never ever stopped listening and responding, whether or not she was tired as fuck over my redundant ramblings. I would do anything I could for her, because she always seemed to be there for me.
Problem is, I'm not sure what to do. Both of us have had a mediocre 2004 thus far, and I'm just looking for the day when it all falls into place again. Basically I just want her to know I'm out here. And I'll always remember. Does she?
I'm out of energy for ranting. Rodgie just tried to climb into my lap and I need more orange soda.
I love all the people in my life. I just want them to stop hurting. I'd say thats in a nutshell. That's for all you people who stopped reading earlier in the entry, but needed a bit more resolution.
I'm going to go think about dinner (spaghetti?), possibly vacuum, fold all the laundry for the muffins and their cupcake children, read a book.
It was nice to be here. I'll think about coming more often.
I suppose I shouldn't tell other people that they haven't been themselves, when I haven't exactly been what I used to be. If there is one this I detest, it's hypocrisy.
But it's really hard sometimes, to retain everything. To stop it from spilling out of you, like water running over, ready to be evaporated, soaked up, never to be seen again. And I think sometimes I cry because there are things going that I don't want to go...some stuff isn't meant to be dissolved, some stuff I'm not ready to give away.
It's possible I have no idea what I am talking about. Or I just feel that way because I walked away from the computer for five minutes.
Lately I've felt like I've had no depth. I haven't felt capable of making those entries Emi used to look forward to. I'm sure there wasn't a single person who was looking forward to my last retarded rambling. Don't think I don't want to change that though. I hate being unable to express myself, or worse, feeling like there isn't anything worth expressing.
I guess I'm going to try to write about whatever comes into my head. I'll warn you in advance that it's probably going to be really random. If this scares you, or it's too much to handle, here's the end for you, adios. You can officially stop reading now.
Theresa and I went to see Eternal Sunshine on Saturday. I loved it. It made me so happy, it was such a great movie, and I can't wait to have it for myself (speaking of, doesn't Love Actually come out this week Muffin?). Anyway, apparently some bitch gave us a dirty look when we were kissing during the credits. I mean, it wasn't even like we were making out, or practically fucking in these two rocking seats at shitty little Loews in Middletown. We were basically having a moment so to speak. A moment between two people that someone felt it was ok to run right through. Despite the fact that I didn't get to see her lovely expression, this intrusion haunted me through dinner. We were unfortunate enough to be seated in the bar section of Fridays which was just overflowing with heterosexual bravado and sluttitude. I think this just made me feel even worse, and we ended up having a discussion about various random gay issues, coming out, peoples perceptions of gayness, etc. I felt really shitty and self conscious. I think we all know this is a rare occurence (at least the self conscious part, frankly I can't speak for the shitty) and it made me really upset. It sort of reminds me of Emi's entry about gay marriage. Here I was, trying to escape reality, to have a nice night out with the person I love, and I was hit full force with a different type of reality, one that I apparently don't have to come to terms with that often. Why should I feel bad? Why shouldn't I be able to kiss the person I love in front of the rest of the world without it causing a major meltdown for someone? Why should I have to be afraid that if I touch her, hold her hand, whatever, there is the slight possibility that I could put us in danger? Like I said, to summarize, I had a really good time. I'm glad we went out, just the two of us, and the movie was great, and the dinner was great, but I just felt like a piece of shit. A second class, second rate, second to everything citizen in this good ol' fucking United States of America.
I find it odd how some of my pores are really visible. Odd and gross. Or impossibly human.
I do not look forward to the custody hearing next Monday. I could say my dad should rot in hell, but I don't even care. He's just a piece of shit. He should just drop all of this because everyone knows he's only doing it b/c he's too cheap to pay child support. I really don't want to go. But there is no way in hell I wouldn't go. I can't wait for this mess to be over. The sooner the better. I just want everything to stop. I want to stop feeling like a freak and an exhibit to be studied in my own home. I'm not a crazy off the wall slut party machine. I don't smoke crack or push every drug under the sun on tons of innocent minors. I don't cheat on tests, I don't get drunk every night, I don't beat anyone (not anyone who doesn't like it anyway ;P), I don't molest adolescents or brainwash them with my scary lesbian ways. I don't do anything but run around like a maniac, trying to take care of two kids, my girlfriend, a house, cars, a dog, a cat, whatever...I don't do anything but try to make things perfect so these fucking morons who have no idea about anything don't take everything away from me. Its fucking ridiculous. The other day T and I were at Wal Mart and we saw this woman saying all this shit to her like eight year old daughter, saying fuck to her, telling her she was going to beat her...and we just looked at each other....they want to take children away from us?! There are real problems, and real kids who need help, who are living in a shithole, being abused, and they want to try to put two teenagers in foster care just because a fat ass and his slutbag wife make empty accusations? Once again, I love you America.
Oh there I go, being the crazy subversive liberal queer woman again. Well lock me up and fuck me in the ass Bush.
Hate to be a traitor, but I just love Minute Maid Valencia Orange soda. It is the best orange soda I've had in forever. It is so fucking good.
I miss Emi. More than I can ever remember missing a friend. Everything is so messed up, and I just want to fix it. I want things to be like they used to. I want her to be happy. As she so aptly pointed out, we used to do nothing. On one of my crying binges, I thought about how I used to sit on the end of her bed, and we'd talk about anything, everything. I remember the time she was at her computer and I fell asleep in a weird shape, sort of like an L against her footboard. I remember how we used to sit on the couch and play Tricky. I remember how freshman year when I came back after Easter she picked me up at South Station, me looking like a complete fool with egg cakes and other various bags of shit in tow. I remember how I used to make entries that I felt she was the only one I wanted to be able to read me, so I'd block everyone else out. I remember steak and cheese, trips to Maine, talks of the gay, slerp and soad, all of our various love crisis', her birthday. I remember she'll eat anything as long as it falls into the catagory of leftovers, that I would never want her to feel like she was "in an after school special." I remember when I realized I was wrong about her, or that my entire life was wrong, and when I chose to make it right I just hoped she'd forgive me for being such a stupid asshole. I remember that she listens, that she was the first person to try to make my birthday a great day, that horrible Valentines day dinner :P We have laughed and cried and every impossible thing in between. She has protected me and cared about me and never ever stopped listening and responding, whether or not she was tired as fuck over my redundant ramblings. I would do anything I could for her, because she always seemed to be there for me.
Problem is, I'm not sure what to do. Both of us have had a mediocre 2004 thus far, and I'm just looking for the day when it all falls into place again. Basically I just want her to know I'm out here. And I'll always remember. Does she?
I'm out of energy for ranting. Rodgie just tried to climb into my lap and I need more orange soda.
I love all the people in my life. I just want them to stop hurting. I'd say thats in a nutshell. That's for all you people who stopped reading earlier in the entry, but needed a bit more resolution.
I'm going to go think about dinner (spaghetti?), possibly vacuum, fold all the laundry for the muffins and their cupcake children, read a book.
It was nice to be here. I'll think about coming more often.