More kites, less guns.

[dutchairplanes]

I'm so sad today. I mean, aside from the fact that I didn't get to see The Album Leaf (Brian didn't want to go) and that the immensely cool polaroid that Brandon found at Thrifko couldn't be sold to me (no tag). At some point, in bed, I couldn't move anymore. But Brandon stayed with me the whole time. It was great of him. He's generous. Things were swell when we all ate the heavenly pizza down the street from my house since the Indian place we wanted to go to is closed on Mondays. They even played Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" on the radio. I was the only one who liked it. I like to hear Shogun stories, but I get jealous. I'm kind of a geek and I haven't had many friends or been in situations where I remember the things we had to do every day. I suppose it will happen. I was entraced earlier when we took the kites out of the trunk and Brandon got the Owl caught on a roof. First breadball in the middle of the road, now this. We must be the full entertainment of the Gatherings. I cried before everyone drank. I was in pain. I didn't drink. I hate drinking. I'm so anti-drink it's moving. Moving mountains. Oh, but everyone was just being cool and hanging out, and I suddenly got almost tired, but I think it was just a heavy bout of depression. I was so sad it gave me a headahce. It was frightening. I didn't want to be sad. Not at all. I tried lying on the couch and watching the TV, but everything in life just always seems all choppy and fucked up. I tried the bed, talking, and though the company was perfect and everything seemed peaceful, my mind was shitty and I couldn't think about being in bed. All I could think was horrible, abstract and irrational thoughts. When everything turns into a movie or something. It's nice to cry a lot on rare occasions, but this just hurt. Like I said, I felt like I couldn't move and I was going to be there forever. And it was a hospital bed. I hate my brain. It's not fair that I can't just think comfortably 95% of the time. It's a definite possibility that I'm bipolar, according to a woman who helps with the local NAMI. My mother is bipolar. So, not only am I disfunctional, but I'm smart enough to recognize what my brain is doing and am therefore doomed to perpetual introspection. Maybe not perpetual. Perhaps medication stops that. A loss of character.

I really want to be the upper.

I'd like a job that pays. Unfortunately, I don't have one of those, so I will go to my non-paying job this week. Possibly tomorrow; Andrew suggested it and he is smart, so I may take that advice. Kelly will be happy to take me along.

My dog loves me a lot. I want to live where it's colder.