(no subject)
i keep telling myself i'll update and i never do.
I watched Girl, Interrupted and realized I'm not as crazy as I think... or as crazy as I want to be. That's right, I apparently WANT to be crazy. I want to be like Sylvia Plath or Lisa (Angelina Jolie) or Susanna (Wynnona Ryder). Not seriously crazy, just the kind where everyone thinks they are but secretly they're genius and 98% correct about the world but 'the world' is too afraid to admit it. The 2% where they are wrong they will later learn about themselve... or just end up committing suicide.
For the life of me, I can't think of the word where your mind tells your body it's sick, so it get's sick. I think I'm like that. Except it doesn't work for like a cold or a headache. It's mental illness. And if I wanted to get better, I could. But I don't want to. Then again, maybe I'm not mentally sick at all.
I'm going to make it a point to live better. To be able to say I am completely - or relatively complete - satisfied with my life would be bliss. I saw the old lady who lives across the street. She was riding her bike, probably to the grocery store. I thought about what she was like when she was younger. I wondered if she ever remenisces about the stupid crushes she had on boys when she was younger and the places she'd seen in the world. Most ugly old people were absolutly gorgeous when they were young. She must have been Miss America. Then I pull in my driveway and sit in my car for a few mintues and think about when I'm old if I will start to cry or smile when I think about my youth. The places I've been and the things I've done. Right now it makes me cry - not tears of joy either. I'm not happy with the person that I am now and I want to be better. I don't want to get mad at stupid things, especially since the hurts seem to get worse as you get older. The things I cry about now will seem so simple 10 years from now. They won't matter either. But am I a hypocrite for saying I live today? I do things for today, not for 10 years from now. To enjoy myself and have fun now, not regret doing/not doing it later.
Megan, Shenette and I went to the Orlando Museum of Art on Sunday. We also took pictures in the 'park' next to it just to waste film. I'm really glad I experienced things like that with them. Inexpensive, simple, yet so much meaning. We even got dressed up just because we never do. Oh, we also ate at Denny's. That brings a smile to my face just because we were being so stupid and didn't care what anyone thought of us.
My back window and radio being broken has been a very humbling experience. A year ago, the 'old Fran' would never drive a car around like that. She would be embaressed to admit that the only way she can listen to music in her car is with a little tape recorder. She would never admit the only tape she has in Alanis Morrisette and so that's what she's been listening to everyday for the past 4 days. But the 'now Fran' doesn't care. Shit happens. I'm dealing with it. It'll be fixed. No worries. Why get upset about it? 10 years from now, I won't even remember that broken window. 10 years from now, I won't even remember writing this journal entry, so why write it?
I watched Girl, Interrupted and realized I'm not as crazy as I think... or as crazy as I want to be. That's right, I apparently WANT to be crazy. I want to be like Sylvia Plath or Lisa (Angelina Jolie) or Susanna (Wynnona Ryder). Not seriously crazy, just the kind where everyone thinks they are but secretly they're genius and 98% correct about the world but 'the world' is too afraid to admit it. The 2% where they are wrong they will later learn about themselve... or just end up committing suicide.
For the life of me, I can't think of the word where your mind tells your body it's sick, so it get's sick. I think I'm like that. Except it doesn't work for like a cold or a headache. It's mental illness. And if I wanted to get better, I could. But I don't want to. Then again, maybe I'm not mentally sick at all.
I'm going to make it a point to live better. To be able to say I am completely - or relatively complete - satisfied with my life would be bliss. I saw the old lady who lives across the street. She was riding her bike, probably to the grocery store. I thought about what she was like when she was younger. I wondered if she ever remenisces about the stupid crushes she had on boys when she was younger and the places she'd seen in the world. Most ugly old people were absolutly gorgeous when they were young. She must have been Miss America. Then I pull in my driveway and sit in my car for a few mintues and think about when I'm old if I will start to cry or smile when I think about my youth. The places I've been and the things I've done. Right now it makes me cry - not tears of joy either. I'm not happy with the person that I am now and I want to be better. I don't want to get mad at stupid things, especially since the hurts seem to get worse as you get older. The things I cry about now will seem so simple 10 years from now. They won't matter either. But am I a hypocrite for saying I live today? I do things for today, not for 10 years from now. To enjoy myself and have fun now, not regret doing/not doing it later.
Megan, Shenette and I went to the Orlando Museum of Art on Sunday. We also took pictures in the 'park' next to it just to waste film. I'm really glad I experienced things like that with them. Inexpensive, simple, yet so much meaning. We even got dressed up just because we never do. Oh, we also ate at Denny's. That brings a smile to my face just because we were being so stupid and didn't care what anyone thought of us.
My back window and radio being broken has been a very humbling experience. A year ago, the 'old Fran' would never drive a car around like that. She would be embaressed to admit that the only way she can listen to music in her car is with a little tape recorder. She would never admit the only tape she has in Alanis Morrisette and so that's what she's been listening to everyday for the past 4 days. But the 'now Fran' doesn't care. Shit happens. I'm dealing with it. It'll be fixed. No worries. Why get upset about it? 10 years from now, I won't even remember that broken window. 10 years from now, I won't even remember writing this journal entry, so why write it?