People and what they hear and what they should hear.
I know that people are people with emotions and everything, and thoughts that are more than 'I'm a banana" Or a rabbit, or anything. SOmetimes I wish everyone heard everything all the time, ebcause then there would be no misunderstandings and no insecurities. When Chris says someone is a fake person to their face, but really means that they never let themselves out, it sounds like he is calling them a fake. I have heard allof Chris's stories, of that one time he surprised Francis into saying something real, profound. It excited him. I wish I could open up like that. I also wish everyone didn't hate me, adn that I was less insecure. There's something freeing about journals that everybody reads and writing without pausing,but I don't like it very much. These last few weeks have been hard, with everybody. I think everything's fine, and then it's not. Andee and Ryan should be dating again. I don't care who reads that because I'm allowed to have an opinion. I guess. Sometimes I don't know, but I guess I'll exert my right, both to opinions and slightly bad spelling right now. This has been my first entry in forever. I've had other thigs to do on the internst. I should remember livejournal when I want to talk. Not complain or preach, as I so often do, but just talk, to talk. I want to be on yearbook. it would be fun. I would like to have things to do at school also, and that is a good thing. It's been a long time since I've taken an art class. Painting is fun, and pretty mostly. It's hard to make a bad painting unless you try very hard and don't have much skill at all. It's good to know that very few people are going to read this because it's a big imposing block. Francis taught me that. People who want to read it will, but most people won't. Maybe I should stop since Tyler is trying to correct my spelling and capitolization. I already claimed the right to spell, but he didn't read the whole thing. Oh well. So goes it. Math class tonight. I don't like it much, but it's not so bad. I can't wait to drive. I'll drive everywhere for a week until I ahve to fill up my gas tank, then I'll walk again. Except I'll still drive to work because then I can go and pick up lunch which has always sounded like fun. I can't believe Chris caught a rapist. Now he's going to think sex is evil again, and we'll be back at the beginning. I like typing, it's so much easier than writing, though sometimes when you''re jest letting the words flow you miss a letter, or don't press heard enough, but I guess I do that writing too. School's out soon. No one in my advisory does anything ever. I don't mind. I like doing nothing, and getting everytyhing done. There is nothing that loks good on the bookshelf. Book group starts Wednesday and maybe the book will be good. The meeting is also on Wednesday, the department wide. I hope it's great, but it will be boring. I get cookies though. I can't beleive I typed that, because now I'm selfconcious. I deleted it, but then I retyped it, because that's just silly, isn't it? I wonder how long this is. Who cares. There's a map on the wall with all the different continents and states. The Swedes had a map of Sewden. I like Caddye a lot. She is really cool. I'm sorry that she said 'Gee, Chris and you are really far apart" even though it's true because it's kind of sad really. Not pitiful, it just makes me a little achey and sad. Achey. When one aches. Like my leg from fighting. I'm walking with a limp I think. Why wasn't it bad at the mall? The mall has curing powers. Snakes of healing light from the akeup counter and the crappy displays because the people who do them are not paid as much as they are in New York. But New Your is more expensive too. it all evens out in the end. Everyhing evens out. One day someone will make Andee feel as lost as she's making me feel. And I will feel sad. For her. I hope this is over soon. I want to start my autobiography. 30 pages. What to write. Autobiographies are so narcissistic. Even though it's an assignment, It will be weird writing 75 pages about Me. MEMEMEME. I'm not that interesting. Not an enigma, like Andee or Francis. I can't remember my childhood. Not much, anyway. Not enough to write stories about. I culd talk to my mother, but she doesn't care about the past. I don't know why. Grandma does, maybe that's why she doesn't. Who are the Swedes? How did my Grandmother find them and why do they care about us? Why do families matter? Distant ones. I like ym friends better than my cousins. maybe it's a blood thing. I don't think so though. Maybe it's time to stop. Is that enough entry to fill the eentry viod or will this average out into sentance frangments that are too small to see and read? WHich is better, I don't know. Maybe I'll update sometimes.