déesse - goddess, female deity.
saleté - dirty.
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
current music: Nickelback, 'Mistake'
This is a lovely song. Go get it. Now.
Unlike at the site where my online diary is hosted, when I post an entry here, I can edit or delete it at will. I like that feature. I like not having to get my HTML and text spacing perfect the first time. And with me, it has to be perfect. I'm a loser perfectionist.
I got my pink fishnets caught in the back zipper of my grey plaid miniskirt this evening. Surprisingly, when I detangled the two, the fishnets weren't ruined. Hurrah for $9 quality fishnets from Mississauga. Though, had the catch created a hole, the fishnets would just have become a shirt.
I have nothing to say. Big surprise.
My hair turned out so much better than I expected it to. Much brighter, a rich blue with hints of teal and dark, almost black. I love it. I'll definitely be able to keep this colour until my hair grows back to healthy.
Here - have a picture.
I'm worried about you, Steph. Should I be? I fear I came off wrong during your whole relationship with Aaron. I fear I may have pressured you to dump him, when it's only what I, as an outsider, see as an easy thing. I know it's not that easy in life. And if he makes you happier than miserable, by all means, be with him. He just... he shouldn't get away with even daring to make you think your body, your mind, your beliefs, and your hair are not worth his admiration as is, you're not worth his kiss, and if you're to be together, he has to understand this, that you deserve someone who thinks the opposite of him on these matters and you can get it elsewhere if he doesn't want to be the lucky one to provide it for you.
I don't want you to be sad, is all.
I got Tyler into Evanescence. Rock. Fuck, they kick ass. That woman's voice is so lulling and hypnotic, and their lyrics are so beautiful. Check out 'Haunted' and 'Lies,' and 'Bring Me To Life' if you haven't already heard or gotten sick of it. I can buy their CD Tuesday! Whoo.
I did a buttload of my ASP .NET assignment today. I have only one problem left to do, and it shouldn't be any more work than any of the ones I did today that proved surprisingly short and easy.
Adam got his full-time job hours. He'll be working every day from three in the afternoon to nine at night. Pros: He'll get to spend lunch with me every day. Cons: He'll be living at his grandparents' during the week, meaning I can't call him out of the blue, and also, that he won't be available for our weekly Thursday-night gatherings at Joel's to watch Smackdown. But, a pro, as he wrote in his blog: he'll have money, and I'll no longer have to pay for him on dates.
Speaking of blowing my money, I still have a bank balance of over a thousand bucks, thanks to my bursary cheque. I was thinking I'd splurge a little and buy myself these spiked bondage boots.
And I bought $13 sunglasses this weekend at Randy River. They apparently look like the Rock's. Almost square, but wrap around a bit, and the lenses are a gradient dark brown at the top, light coffee at the bottom.
Joel slept in my bed all day today. Fucker. He makes it so hard not to kiss him sometimes.
My sister's coming home in April for a week. I'm more excited about that than I thought I'd be. I can stand the thought of her a lot more since she's moved out and I graduated from high school, the hell that made me crabby overall.
I like the way I look more with light hair than with dark; my dark eyes stand out much more that way, I find. But my hair will be dark tonight. I just hope not so dark that I feel I have to emphasize my eyes with shitloads of eyeliner every day. Because even the shitloads of eyeliner look better on me with light hair, I think, and plus, I'm too lazy to do that every morning.
I have on a clingy rich purple three-quarter-sleeve top and gray flare-leg pants that majorly hug my ass, plus some bracelets, my spiky ring, and a collar. This isn't important to note at all. I just feel sexy. That's such a rare feeling when my hair's in faded stages, especially when it looks like such multicoloured cat puke as it does now. I'll get a couple of pictures before I dye it.
Now, this is some sexy hair.
Perhaps that's what I ought to do with mine. Then I could quit being so indecisive about its colour. Although I imagine it would be a pain in the ass to wash, and the colours would blur together eventually.
I've had Rae's letter all done and I'll be able to mail it Monday. This evening I'll finally get the thing I want to send with it.
Something I said to my father in the car this morning, when we got to ranting about Bush, as we always seem to do, as we both blame him for everything from the high gas prices to the highest form of evil and disgusting currently on the planet.
Bush really has no case against Iraq that justifies attacking solely Iraq. Everything Iraq is guilty of, in his eyes, many other countries are also guilty of.
"Well, there are terrorists in Iraq. Branches of al-Qaeda."
There are branches of al-Qaeda in many, many countries, I'm sure. I bet if you looked hard enough, they'd have connections in Canada and America, too. This is Bush's lame attempt to connect his hatred for Iraq to September 11, and hence, drum up public support for what he's doing.
"Well, Iraq has these big weapons, and they might be pointed at us!"
Oh, like Bush doesn't have weapons capable of five thousand times the damage Iraq's greatest weapon could do. American government has just long thought that it was allowed to have weapons while other countries couldn't, as it thinks of itself as the world's "loving" father that may need them for discipline and maintaining order, and every other country as potentially-rowdy children. And anyway, do the research. America sold those weapons to Iraq. That's why Bush was so certain the country has them, even when the weapons inspections turned up nothing.
"Iraq's leader is cruel to its people!"
Half of the world's leaders are dictators, excessively so, I'm sure, including, I bet, a bunch of the leaders in Bush's poverty-stricken, bought-off-slash-bribed, distant therefore unattached to the consequences of the war they are supporting, "coalition of the willing." These countries just don't have the dual misfortunes of having been hated by America for decades, and possessing rich oil wells. Furthermore, if Bush was so concerned about the liberation of people in Iraq, he could have made it his campaign cause, or at least, one of the first orders of business of his presidency. But no - American presidents sat around and let Saddam be president for thirty-two years. Bush is just pretending to be interested now because he's found a different reason to attack, whatever that may be in his little peanut brain, and again, he wants to drum up public support.
Just look at what American troops did in Afghanistan. Yeah, maybe they liberated the people from the Taliban. But how exactly was Afghanistan connected to September 11? Quite frankly, it wasn't. Bush declared, "Osama's hiding there!" and bombing commenced. But did they find him? Nooooo. And then they gave up, left the country in ruins, I'm sure, put in a new, not-elected-by-the-people government - the Northern Alliance, who some Afghans claim are "the Taliban without the turbans" - and hoofed out.
If you want my opinion, America didn't need an excuse to get rid of those Taliban bastards. Go look them up if you don't know shit about the restrictions they imposed on women when they took over Afghanistan in 1995. But the fact is, they didn't go in to do that; they hid behind an excuse, making it appear to the world as though they only cared shit about Afghans because of their own ulterior motives - American homeland was attacked. America let Afghanistan suffer under the rule of the Taliban for six years before they made a move to do anything - and they made that move only because someone blew up a bunch of buildings in New York. When that happened, the word from Bush was, of course, "Don't worry, innocent people of Afghanistan, we're not going to hurt you. We're going to liberate you!"
And they think they did. I don't know, maybe they did. I don't have connections with Afghans, so I can't ask them whether or not they feel liberated. The point I'm trying to make here, rather roundabout I'm sure, is that American government didn't give a shit about liberating Afghans before it became America's problem, and the same is true of this war in Iraq. I bet American government has never once thought, in the thirty years Saddam's been running his island, to get him out and "liberate" the people. And personally, I don't see what Iraq has done to make it America's problem this time. I'm not saying Saddam should be left to lead the country - but really: What has he, or anyone in Iraq, done to Bush, or anyone in America, lately?
Just to clarify: When I say 'America,' I mean American government. I hold nothing against Americans, especially because I know, contrary to what the TV polls say, that the majority of Americans do not agree with the war in Iraq. And I have friends in America whom I love dearly. I am not anti-American. Just... at the moment, vehemently against the American government.
Do not ever buy dyes from Fudge. Especially online.
I dyed my hair a couple of hours ago, with their Blue Hawaii. The dye went on like water and made about as much of a mark as a pack of Kool-Aid would have. It wasn't solid and only showed up where my hair had been blonde - and showed up green. I aborted the dye-setting process the instant I got it all on, washed my hair several times with hot water and non-colour-protecting shampoo, and got it back to what it was before I started painting on the colour.
It's more of a light mauve now, with bits of very pale blue, green, and yellow. It blends together to look, from a distance, mauve and silver. It's more blended now than it was before I put the dye in, though, so I call it a bit of a neutralizer. It took the bright blonde edge off of the ends and newly-bleached roots.
Still, what a ripoff, and waste of my time.
So I'll pick up a different colour someday this week in town, and see what happens then. I'm kind of scared to dye it again now. What if the next horribly-botched dye job doesn't wash out as well as this one did?
Stupid nose. I'll chop you off good!
I was just rooting through my bookbag, and found a hairbrush buried in the bottom of one pocket, full of neon pink hair. Good stuff.
Another week and I'll be able to buy Evanescence's debut.
I went shopping last night. I got a grey plaid miniskirt, a grey mini-skort, and a ring with spikes on it. Hey, I figured, I might as well start showing off these long legs that I hate but men apparently love. My wardrobe for this coming summer so far consists of a lot of tops I wouldn't have worn prior to my self-esteem boost, short shorts and skirts, goth/punk accessories, and fishnets.
After my spree, Joel, Joey and I went to visit the latter's grandmother in the hospital, where she's bed-ridden with emphysema from years of smoking. (I made a rather callous comment pulling into the hospital parking lot, not realizing the connection: "People who smoke deserve to die." Maybe I didn't mean it that harshly, but to anyone who smokes, but to be blunt, it's terribly stupid of you.) That... shook me up. She was always such a nice lady to me, when Joey and I were together. She called me 'dear' and didn't mind when I didn't eat too much of that cherry ice cream. I hate cherries.
He was such a dear boy to her; he fixed her tea and offered her a back rub. Watching him be a nurse to her brought back my old thoughts that Joey would be excellent in the medical profession, he's so patient and compassionate, and the way he went about it with such emotional strength made me want to hug him and cry. It was as if she wasn't a beloved member of his family slowly dying. He treated her as if she just needed a day of rest. I teared up a few times in that room, while watching the exchanges from Joel's lap.
While Joey was in and out of the room fixing her tea, she asked me if Joey was happy again. Joel and I nodded and said yes, elaborating a bit that he was much happier since the job and he'd gotten back on his feet from the split. She was glad, but said she'd hoped he'd be happier. I felt guilty.
Joel and I eventually left the room for solitude in one of the lounges, whose window, I discovered with a soft gasp, displayed a beautiful view of the sprawling, lit city. We stood before it for awhile, bantering back and forth about our childhoods and past experiences in the city and the way the street lights climbing the hill stood out alone, like a stairway to heaven. Then two men entered the room and occupied the couches, and, suddenly awkward in the presence of these strangers, I murmured, "I think I'm done looking at the city now."
A response followed from one man behind me, watching coverage of the war on TV: "I don't know why they don't just bomb the fuck out of that place."
Um, gee, how about 'cause all America wants is the leader, and I'm sure a lot of Iraq not only wouldn't mind if they got him, but wouldn't mind not dying or having their lives destroyed. Fucking moron.
"Yeah, I'm done looking at the city now," I said decisively, and stalked out of the room with Joel on my heels.
War breeds idiocy.
The three of us ended up at Joey's place, where I dozed through the whole episode of RAW, missing the Rock's concert, which I was not impressed about. Crabby at myself for that and for intruding on so much of Joel's overnight visit with Joey, I got snippy when I finally kicked myself out at quarter to one, and didn't hug either of them goodbye, and made tons of sarcastic jokes about falling asleep at the wheel and dying before morning. As I unlocked my car, I heard a voice say just two words: Drive careful. When I looked up to the house door, I saw Joel standing there, and even in the dark, I could see the look of concern splashed all over his face, set in his eyes, could hear it echoing in his words still.
The moment chilled me the entire way home, and when I got home, I called Joey.
My music on the drive home provided me with a new MSN name: the more i touch the less i feel. I love the similarity and yet, contrast in that one line.
I'll probably dye my hair at the end of this week. I've got my base colour chosen; I haven't decided beyond that if I want to do some strips, or the ends, or the roots a different colour. My hair majorly faded at the pool, and for once, it's what I wanted. It's now the pretty pink-orange colour of the inside of a mango, and I just washed it, so it's soft and hanging perfectly, long, smooth, with slight waves. I feel good about myself despite.
I've spent most of today sleeping or trying to. Adam was over, and being a total cutie, and so good to me. He sniffed me like a dog and called me "sweepy girl." I always giggle when he does the first. He sniffs rabidly all over my neck and face and shoulders, short little sniffs just like a hyper puppy. Sometimes he even licks me. He did today. I laughed.
The 'rents painted the room beside mine in the colours I suggested. It isn't as peach as I wanted it to be. I sulked, and still am disappointed. I even cried about it this morning, a bit, inexplicably and unnecessarily. But then Adam did the dog thing, and I laughed.
Yesterday was good in general. Joey, Joel, Adam and I went swimming and got WWE tickets. Fourth row! May fourth, baby. Heard Evanescence on the radio on the way out, then we got super-yummy chicken quesadillas at El Burrito Loco and Joel and I indulged in some equally-super-yummy cranberry-apple herbal teas from Coffee & Company next to my school. Then Joel and Adam came back to my place and much Shut Your Mouth was played and cuddling was done.
That morning, before heading off to the pool, I gave Adam a huge hickey on his neck. I didn't even clue in that we were going to a pool and it would be visible, as it wasn't under his T-shirt. Shit. So I was poked fun at, as was he, for a few minutes when the other two took note of it.
I had to make my bed this afternoon. But that's a good thing.
Otep rocks.
The end.
My teacher sent me this. Great stuff.
A Letter from Michael Moore to George W. Bush on the Eve of War Monday,
March 17, 2003
George W. Bush
1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Washington, DC
Dear Governor Bush:
So today is what you call "the moment of truth," the day that "France and the rest of world have to show their cards on the table." I'm glad to hear that this day has finally arrived. Because, I gotta tell ya, having survived 440 days of your lying and conniving, I wasn't sure if I could take much more. So I'm glad to hear that today is Truth Day, 'cause I got a few truths I would like to share with you:
1. There is virtually NO ONE in America (talk radio nutters and Fox News aside) who is gung-ho to go to war. Trust me on this one. Walk out of the White House and on to any street in America and try to find five people who are PASSIONATE about wanting to kill Iraqis. YOU WON'T FIND THEM! Why? 'Cause NO Iraqis have ever come here and killed any of us! No Iraqi has even threatened to do that. You see, this is how we average Americans think: If a certain so-and-so is not perceived as a threat to our lives, then, believe it or not, we don't want to kill him! Funny how that works!
2. The majority of Americans - the ones who never elected you - are not fooled by your weapons of mass distraction. We know what the real issues are that affect our daily lives - and none of them begin with I or end in Q. Here's what threatens us: two and a half million jobs lost since you took office, the stock market having become a cruel joke, no one knowing if their retirement funds are going to be there, gas now costs almost two dollars - the list goes on and on. Bombing Iraq will not make any of this go away. Only you need to go away for things to improve.
3. As Bill Maher said last week, how bad do you have to suck to lose a popularity contest with Saddam Hussein? The whole world is against you, Mr. Bush. Count your fellow Americans among them.
4. The Pope has said this war is wrong, that it is a SIN. The Pope! But even worse, the Dixie Chicks have now come out against you! How bad does it have to get before you realize that you are an army of one on this war? Of course, this is a war you personally won't have to fight. Just like when you went AWOL while the poor were shipped to Vietnam in your place.
5. Of the 535 members of Congress, only ONE (Sen. Johnson of South Dakota) has an enlisted son or daughter in the armed forces! If you really want to stand up for America, please send your twin daughters over to Kuwait right now and let them don their chemical warfare suits. And let's see every member of Congress with a child of military age also sacrifice their kids for this war effort. What's that you say? You don't THINK so? Well, hey, guess what - we don't think so either!
6. Finally, we love France. Yes, they have pulled some royal screw-ups. Yes, some of them can be pretty damn annoying. But have you forgotten we wouldn't even have this country known as America if it weren't for the French? That it was their help in the Revolutionary War that won it for us? That our greatest thinkers and founding fathers - Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, etc. - spent many years in Paris where they refined the concepts that lead to our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution? That it was France who gave us our Statue of Liberty, a Frenchman who built the Chevrolet, and a pair of French brothers who invented the movies? And now they are doing what only a good friend can do - tell you the truth about yourself, straight, no b.s. Quit pissing on the French and thank them for getting it right for once. You know, you really should have traveled more (like once) before you took over. Your ignorance of the world has not only made you look stupid, it has painted you into a corner you can't get out of.
Well, cheer up - there IS good news. If you do go through with this war, more than likely it will be over soon because I'm guessing there aren't a lot of Iraqis willing to lay down their lives to protect Saddam Hussein. After you "win" the war, you will enjoy a huge bump in the popularity polls as everyone loves a winner - and who doesn't like to see a good ass-whoopin' every now and then (especially when it 's some third world ass!). So try your best to ride this victory all the way to next year's election. Of course, that's still a long ways away, so we'll all get to have a good hardy-har-har while we watch the economy sink even further down the toilet!
But, hey, who knows - maybe you'll find Osama a few days before the election! See, start thinking like THAT! Keep hope alive! Kill Iraqis - they got our oil!!
Yours,
Michael Moore
www.michaelmoore.com
I'm watching explosions over Baghdad, and I'm crying. Up until now I've thought I was blinded with rage at this pathetic excuse for a war, but now it's just intensely tragic.
Bush just couldn't fucking be the bigger man and not the bigger dick. Couldn't be peaceful and diplomatic. Oh, wait. He thinks he is being. He's just so desperate for that oil, for the chance to live up to his daddy or prove he's a good president who wants to protect the people and get rid of the bad man despite that he's completely going against the wishes of his people and everyone else in the world but Tony Blair, the little Stalin to his Hitler, to make an enemy out of the first example to come along whom Bush can beat with his mighty military, despite that he's not even the target they were initially after, and I have no idea how this war went from Osama to Afghanistan to Iraq.
What difference does Bush see between his "pre-emptive strike" and plain old terrorism? How did Saddam ask for it now, all of a sudden, after thirty-two years of being Iraq's president, many years of being a dictator, many years of being supported by America?!
Yes, I just compared your president to Hitler.
FUCK THAT MAN UP THE ASSHOLE WITH A RUSTY FORKLIFT.
He's ruined the world; he's ruined my world. He's crushed my happiness, and that of many others, his own people, even. Our hopes and dreams for a world where people live in peace, or at least a world in which the leader of a so-called "democratic" country fucking listens when his people stand up and speak out. He's not perpetuating that dream; he's not bringing us closer. Quit believing your country's propaganda! He's choking it.
Adam, the president made me cry. Hold me. Let me cry on you. Tell me it'll be alright.
It won't be all right.
A lot of us with broken hearts don't have Adams.
there's always drinks and dancing in the rubble
I'm spinning and you're spinning
and the world's spinning and we're laughing
and I'm charming
the devil's charming
and we're ruined but we're building
and I'm selling and you're counting
the world's stopping but we keep going
and we're ruthless and we're cunning
and I'm heir to it all
avalanche, start inside of me
avalanche
hell down through the trees....
I hate that my mother never listens to my opinions and encourages my father not to, either. I need someone to rant to. Hence why I fervently seek that tolerance and intelligence, that ability to listen to and banter with me, in the people I date.
I don't much like debating with my father, anyway. He's too conservative.
I read an article today about a guy who was abducted in 1973, when he was thirteen years old. His kidnapper kept him imprisoned in a 4x4x7 wooden box underground, and repeatedly raped him over the course of eight days. On the eighth day, the guy got in his truck and drove off, leaving the kid chained in his box buried in the earth. The kid was lucky enough to hear some hunters passing overhead and summoned the strength to shake and rattle and pound the lid of his coffin and scream at the top of his lungs, and he was rescued. His rapist was caught and jailed for 48 years. Turned out at the time of this attack, he was out on parole for the sexual assault of a male minor which occurred after he was released for the assault of a 10-year-old!
And America thinks it's a just country. Blech. That rapist should never have been allowed into jail, especially not after this, a fucking third offense. Jail is too good for him. See, I'm guessing this fucking pervert has no wife, at least none current, because I sure as hell wouldn't be married to that; and his kids, if he has any, are probably ashamed to even think of where they came from. So it's not a punishment to him to get to live in a building with free cable and water and meals and all the ass sex he can take. He should have been shot in the head.
But, of course, they're letting him out. After 30 years of his sentence. Fuck. I want to see the death penalty come back to this continent so fucking bad. I would break that fucking shit's nose, cut off his genitals, shoot him in the head, and piss on his body before chopping it to bits.
Who cares about his rights now? He's violated the rights of at least three. Three strikes, you're out, shithead. What kind of crime deterrent is all this "criminal rights" shit? People who think they have the rights to remove another's breath from his body ought to have his breath removed from his.
My boyfriend was gang-raped as a child, by Bible-camp counsellors. So, you'll forgive me if I get a bit angry at anyone who implies that rapists ought to have even the basic rights of hunting game, much less a pampered human.
Great country, America is. Everyone has a right to life. Two-hour-old fertilized eggs, to Bush, ought to have more of a right to life than the pregnant woman has a right to life and health and peace of mind. Rapists have more right to life than their victims have right to JUSTICE. Vengeance, whatever. It's obviously not wrong in his mind - he's all for killing innocents in the name of "justice," the word that shields his true hunger for revenge.
Evanescence has jumped into my favourite music list right below Matt Good.
They make me cream myself.
Evanescence's CD doesn't come out until April first in Canada, I discovered when I got back to school all pissed off that I didn't find it where Adam said he'd seen it and bothered to check the band's official site for the release date. I'm owning that CD the minute it comes out, biatch.
I've got a bit of a Strong Bad obsession now. I've been playing Trogdor the Burninator this morning on my breaks between classes, and I highly recommend you check out his parody of Japanese cartoons - it's so hilariously dead on.
So I have nothing much else to say. I now have until Friday to get my project done. This weekend I'm going swimming with a bunch of my friends, and we hope to pick up tickets for when the WWE comes to town May fourth.
Oh. This afternoon, while I ate lunch, I was listening to Behzad, a student in the Database Programming class next to mine, talk about Bush's war with a couple of the young male staff members who take an anti-Bush stance similar to mine. Behzad is a refugee from Iran whose relocation to this country was sponsored by UNICEF. In his halting English, he said, "Saddam is crazy, Bush is crazy," smiled, and shrugged.
America trained Osama. America has also sponsored Saddam in the past. Saddam has been the president of Iraq for thirty-two years. If America is so against his leadership, why have they let it go on so long? Because despite what Bush may have you believe, he doesn't give a rat's ass about liberating the people of Iraq. He has his own sick little motives for wanting to stir up shit there, whatever they may be. Personally, I'm convinced, by his plea to the Iraqi people not to "destroy the oil wells" because they're a treasure to the Iraqi people or some shit, that wanting control of Iraq's oil export is one of them, and a big one. And now he's made up an excuse to go after a man he may have disliked for years and years, but... shit, man. Thirty-two years.
Behzad has lost friends and family members because of Iraq's current government and leader, and even he thinks Bush is an ass. I really do think that the only people buying into Bush's campaign are southern Americans brainwashed by their propaganda-crap media and brainless, bought-off politicians who are completely disregarding what their peoples want. Massive peace protests have gone on in over six hundred countries, including Britain, Canada, and the States. Does this mean nothing to Bush and Blair?
I'm glad Chrètien is refusing to involve Canada in any way. I hope his stance remains.
I had a dream just now that I went to the Shell station to gas up my car. One gas tank said 'Iraqi Gas' and was 36.3 cents a litre. The other tank said 'American Gas' and was our current 86.9 cents a litre. I used the Iraqi gas, of course, but a lot of people wouldn't. I remember thinking, with no small amount of sarcasm, Shit, why don't they just call it freedom gas?!
Stupid Bush and his stupid war, butting into my sex dreams.
Joel has kind of an accent. It's cute. I can't describe it exactly, but one of the things I've noticed he does affects the sound of the 'O' in any word in which that letter makes the sound of that letter's name. Joey tells me he notices mine a bit, too, that I make 'A's sound like 'Æ's. He says it's cute, too. I wonder... I wonder if we do have accents here in Canada that separate us from Americans. I mean, I know we sound different than the people in the southern states, but I never really notice a dfference between the way I talk and the way people on American sitcoms talk.
I was supposed to go to a seminar today at the university entitled Business Proposal Writing. Since it sounded like a big snore, I jigged out. I need any time I can get my hands on to rush through this stupid ASP project that's due mid-week. So I guess me buying the Evanescence CD will have to be tomorrow's noon-hour venture.
I have a fallen arch. The left. Blech. I hate that some conditions don't have a quick-fix pill.
Joey was over Friday night. We went to a surprise party for our friend Ally. Adam's ex and apparently my former friend, Stephanie, was there. She sang terribly along to the karaoke machine and was a total bitch to Joey and silent to me. I still don't think she's over that I'm dating her ex, when what they had hardly counted as a loving relationship. They never once kissed. The last time they dated was in ninth grade, four years ago. She dumped him approximately ten times, leaving him for anything with a smile for her, a pretty face, and a penis.
Oh, well. If she wants to be a fucking bitch, that's fine. That night I ripped open the Xmas present I never got around to giving her. Pretty new expensive coloured gel pens for me.
So when we got home, I bitched about her for awhile and then Joey and I sat on my bed and ate nachos and watched Strong Bad cartoons on my bed. Joey-time was great, in all. I hope he feels the same.
I went all over town today scouting for Evanescence's 'Fallen' CD and couldn't find it. Boo, hiss. Adam says he saw it at the mall across from my school, though, so hopefully I can pick it up tomorrow.
"Freedom fries"? FREEDOM FRIES?! What the FUCK is this? Please, someone, tell me this is a joke, and mean it. Am I hearing right? Has Bush changed French fries to freedom fries? Because France will override his desire to go to war if the U.N., stupidly, supports it?
What a fucking baby! You know what this reminds me of? One of two scenarios:
"Mommy, Mommy, I want this new toy!" (To Bush, toy = weapons and war.) "Let me have it!"
"No, Georgy baby."
"Waah! Waah! I hate you, Mommy!" (Where Mommy = France.)
Or:
An American dares to say 'French fries' to Bush's face. Bush gets all pissy like a bitter, recently-divorced single mother whose child has just mentioned its father.
I'm not usually so classically judgmental in my opinions, but now more than ever before, Bush and anyone who supports him is a FUCKING MORON.
It pisses me off when people name their kids after themselves, too. Your kid is his or her own person, not version two of you. Give him or her a unique name. If you must make yourself feel big by tainting it with your name, stick it in as a middle name, or your middle name in as a middle name. How'd you like to grow up being called 'Junior' or with a name like Henry Brown III? 'Cause old people names tend to suck for people born in this day and age. No offense to any Henrys or Browns.
Hollow creature, you just admitted you don't love her? You just admitted you don't love me.
You've had some genuine happiness, even if only a few moments, since. Come on. Be fair.
Why do people look around a room when a noise is being made? It's not like you're going to see the sound waves emanating out of the source. I notice this is especially true when a vehicle goes by with sirens blaring. Even if there are no windows in the room, or people aren't in a position to be able to look through them, they will look around anyway. I catch myself doing it, even. It puzzles me.
Matt Good's 'Avalanche' is so great a song its merits altogether transcend what mere words could describe. Go. Pirate. And while you're at it, check out some Evanescence. I got another of their songs last night, 'My Immortal.' It rocks just as hard as 'Bring Me to Life,' though with a completely different sound. I so must buy their most recent CD.
I gave him up so he would have the chance
to find better
the love he so deserves
and I have no doubt you give him that
or could give him that
if you weren’t forever so busy avoiding him
because he won’t avoid me.
I got to thinking last night about how horrible I used to be. To Joey, especially.
I realize I still am horrible, to my friends, because I never call them and when on the odd occasion I do, I don't like some of these friends enough to go out with them the one time every few months they ask me to. But those friends, sad as it may be to say, are really not the ones I care about. I make time for the ones I care about.
But anyway, my thoughts last night left the question in my head, one I really would like to pose to Joey:
Was I really so bad to you?
I mean, yeah, I oppressed you more than I should have. I grew embarrassed when you did something excessively outgoing or bumped into a table or got into a fight. I got mad at you for stupid things, I'm sure. But I'm also sure that most any woman will do the latter two of the three, if not any or all of the above.
If it's worth anything - which it isn't to me as I feel that if I were listening to this from the outside, I wouldn't think it was any kind of decent excuse - I don't feel that it was even me who did those things. I feel so different now, and I wonder who I was then, just what in the hell was wrong with me. I regret every pout I put on your lips, every damn negative thing I did to you, every stupid fight, every pointless, angry, terrifying glare. And subsequently, that I, in my use of Adam to get over you, left you to heal all alone, without enough of the moral support from the one who had always and will always love you, when you hadn't been the one who even wanted to move on. Those injustices were pulled by a former, selfish shadow of myself, one that disgusts me now. I feel like it wasn't even me. I wish it hadn't been.
I have an animated .GIF of Joey blowing a kiss. He sent it to me. I realize now that contrary to my past, probably stupid assumption, he made it not for me, but for her. The "you" in the poem above. Renee.
No problem, love. I do wish them nothing but the best. I'm still just smarting a bit to find out how serious this thing between them is.
What's worse is... I'm a hypocrite. How do I feel when his air-miles pile up enough for him to actually go to her? And I get to know, as his friend who tells him things about myself from the same fields, that their first kiss was absolutely amazing better than my first ever with you or that they had sex and it was just so beautiful like the fucking planets and the moon were in alignment and candles and red light and all that other lovely stuff?
Pfft. I'm a loser. Goodbye.
Begin I'm-sure-you-needed-to-know transmission:
My rag is running late this month. By that, I mean it should have stopped by now, and it's still going. Only a day extra of bleeding so far. I'll be pissed if it continues beyond that. I do not want what happened to Steph to happen to me. She bled for thirty-five days.
</End.>
I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. After talking to a couple of friends, I strongly suspect the medication I'm on is causing or at least contributing to my depression, and will be switching it.
My boyfriend's mother is making him dye over his green hair for his job hunt with a shade she chose. The name of it on the box, even, is "Dark Brown." How fucking boring. What a bitch.
I hate my boyfriend's parents. Maybe it's a sign that we're meant to be together, as people more often than not hate their in-laws.
One night, about a month ago, he and I and Joel were at Adam's place late watching a movie. I'd been half-asleep on the couch the whole time, and when it came time to head off to bed, Joel took the bed in the basement in which I typically sleep. So I had been going to stay on the couch, but Adam convinced me that I would be more comfortable in bed with him, and coaxed me upstairs. I was exhausted. I'd just gotten all nicely collapsed in his bed and he settled in next to me when Adam's father called him out of the room.
There are no doors in the upstairs of Adam's house, the "bedroom district." His father asked him which of us was sleeping on the floor. It was two a.m., we were both extremely tired, and the floor was cold because it was winter. Adam responded, neither of us. His father snapped "Bullshit!" and insisted that one of us would. Adam returned, and after a long, quiet argument, I got upset, put on his plaid pajama pants and went back down to my couch.
I slept there like a log, a toasty, comfy one. In the morning I awoke to Adam and his father yelling in the kitchen, a room away from me.
Adam's father: blah blah blah, what was that shit you pulled last night? I'm sorry, but I don't think it's right for you two to be in a bed together until you're married. Do Emily's parents let you sleep in her bed when you're over there? Well, yeah, that's why I'm always over there. Well, I don't agree with that at all. Emily's parents actually let you do that. Yes. They trust us. Well, that's stupid! blah blah blah, she wasn't raised right, I'm a little slut, some other shit.
I pretended to be asleep. I was crying, and feeling stupid for doing so. I would have liked to shrink into the cracks between the couch cushions.
Adam came in afterward. He wasn't so dumb as his father; he knew I'd heard every word. Though I find it hard to believe that his father thought there was any chance in hell I hadn't heard the exchange; I think he just wanted me to overhear it so he wouldn't have to confront me to get his opinion across. He held me and I cried and hated him and his family and everyone for awhile. I have calmed down, but to this day have not forgiven Adam's father, nor been able to look at him or make nice.
bring me to life
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before I come undone
save me from the nothing I've become
This may very well be my new favourite song.
I have letters to write in here. I'll probably waste my precious project-working time on Monday doing that, instead of actually working. Fuck me.
I'm sorry to ever have trivialized. Perhaps I don't understand how it feels to love me and want that love returned, but I know how it feels. Laundry room. The prom. You dropped your sunglasses. I hit you that one time. I'm sorry. Was I really that bad to you? Why is it happening again? Why do I hate myself so much now when I didn't care then? Why can I not save myself anymore? How come nobody can reach me anymore? How come there becomes less and less inside of me to reach with each passing day? It's just crumbling away. There'll be no more of me left to be your leftovers. Leftovers. You devoured a part of my heart and I can't get it back, though I thought I had. god, I hate this. I hate this. One time you had a toothbrush here. I don't know where it went. My grandfather said you looked like a glitzy king of Egypt. Everyone said I was a princess to you. It's happening again. Why? god, I hate this. god, I know I don't believe in you, but aside from that, really, WHY THE GODDAMN FUCK DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH!
I'm going to bed. Fuck this. Fuck today. Fuck tomorrow. Fuck next week. In the ear. With a spork. An unprotected one. With AIDS.
I got Matt Good's solo CD. (I guess I got to brag first, Rae. Sorry. What? You have to special-order it? You can't get it in the States?)
Currently, I've paid a total of zero dollars and zero cents for it. Joel picked it up for me, and I haven't gotten around to paying him back yet. Perhaps I'll buy his Daredevil ticket tonight in partial payment/gratitude.
I'm listening to it now. I've so far only gotten to track five, 'Avalanche.' That one starts out dumb but gets so good. Mmm... Matt Good.
My cat's sleeping on my bed curled up next to my thigh as I type this. I love my kitty. Joel has like thirty cats. That is not an exaggeration. His house is full of the cute little creatures. You can't walk into a room without there being at least two. They tend to hang out most in the computer room, with half a dozen sleeping around the furnace grate, half a dozen sleeping on the table, one sitting on top of the washing machine, one sleeping on the padded bench, and two or three cuddled up together in the laundry basket. Kitties! Kitties make me melt inside. Like Matthew Good. Mmm... Matt Good.
Also: my dyke@moonman e-mail account isn't working. E-mail me at my school one, if you must make contact.
Okay, my first impression of track six, '21st Century Living' - it's stupid. But that's okay. There are other Matt Good songs I don't like. Like 'The Inescapable Us.' Sheesh, though, this new track has given me new appreciation for that former least favourite.
I'm going to shut up about Matt Good now. Mmm... Matt Good.
Wow. I feel... not dead. What a welcome change.
I woke up this morning, and set up a Content Advisor block that will not allow me into Renee's LiveJournal unless I echo the password I set up, which I have no shot in hell of doing, as I made it into a combination of random numbers I'll never, with any luck, crack. Then I sent Joey an e-mail saying that I'm very sorry Renee feels the way she does and encouraging him to work this mess out with her so they can get back to loving each other.
I highly doubt I'm going to be able to go to Joel's for our weekly wrestling night, though. It snowed all day yesterday. My mother and I were supposed to go into town this morning, but she didn't even wake me up. A good sign that the roads are too pooey for her to even consider venturing out on. I've yet to determine whether they're so bad a risk-taking maniac like me will stay home, though.
The view out my bedroom window is creepy. I live in the basement; it's half underground. When I look out my window, the banks piled against the deck above my head cover the whole window on two sides, only letting me peek out the center, where a gap of sunlight might get through to my room. Even then, I have to jump to see above the snow's flat crust. And I can't see the road; the piled snow flanking it is too high. I feel like the glass isn't there by times and the snow wants to push in my window and drown me. It very well could.
I's lunch time, and I've got pictures to scan. I'm'a hoof on out of here. Being barefoot makes me happy.
I pressed Joey to tell Renee the truth. As a result, she's pissed and he's down and out. I feel like the biggest homewrecker ever.
He's in love with her and not me. He told us both as much, tonight. I think this is the first time he's flat-out said he doesn't love me. It... it kind of hurts. kind of = the greatest understatement ever.
I feel replaced. Because I have been.
I don't care that he's in love with her. Best the fuck of luck to them both. But, I wish to still be loved. The saying goes that you never forget your first love. I just don't want to be forgotten when I still love him and always will, because he was my first love. I just don't want him to forget that I was his. I don't want to be forgotten. I want to be loved and remembered forever. I want the saying to be true about me.
Joey's new girlfriend doesn't know I still exist in his life. He claims he doesn't tell her because she cries at the mere mention of my name. So he lies to her. When I've spent the night at his place, he's told her he couldn't talk that night because Joel would be there. When he spent last night here with Adam, Joel, and me, he told her he couldn't get home to talk to her because it had snowed.
Quit lying. It will unravel on you one day, and you'll be in deep shit. I'm tempted to unravel it on you myself, but I don't want to be one of those soap-opera bitches that tells the girlfriend that the guy still loves her and they're chummier than said girlfriend thinks. If you're lying to her to protect her from the truth you're sure she doesn't want to know, it implies to me that you think there's something there that needs to be hidden. Something about me you can't tell her. Something going on you're ashamed of, something you're guilty of. Something you can't let her know about me. Something wrong with me. I'm a dirty little slut in your closet, a threat to her possession of what she's found in you. Is she afraid I'm going to smack your ass and put my hand in your pants any chance I get? When isn't that you?
Yeah, maybe I'm being harsh. But I don't like being treated as a blemish on your ability to be her perfect little boyfriend. I don't like being shoved into the dark, into a drawer. I'm not your shame. I am your friend. Or so I thought.
- 9:00 P.M.
I don't feel so hot about myself tonight. I've been looking at yet more pictures of Joey's new girlfriend. She really is so much better-looking than me. She has a better personality and greater love for him than I did, too. god, I was so awful to him.
I'm crying now, just thought I should let you know.
I pay for my friends. I bought my friends and they stick around for my money. If not for my money, and my car, and my licence, I would have no friends. The last four times my boyfriend and I have gone to the movies, I've paid for both tickets. The last few times we've gone black-light bowling, Joel and I have been the only ones with enough fucking money to cover our asses, and subsequently, have covered everyone else's. Joel's not good for transportation, though, so I'm still the sole provider of that. I'm still the only one driving everyone everywhere, and if I'm not able to do that, everyone's fun is ruined. If I have no money for gas, and since none of them ever give me any, we're fucked and up a tree, and it's my fault. I'm so tired of feeling used.
Nobody understands how I feel. Adam had the nerve this afternoon to accuse me of getting "free money." Yeah - a free $15 a week allowance. With which I'm supposed to pay for clothes, gas, etc., anything I need to spice up my life, money to use on things other than food, rent, and living expenses. Answer me this: how far do you think $15 a week goes when you're driving your bum friends all over the place just to be able to see them to inject some life into your depressing, dull excuse for a life, paying for the gas to do so, and paying for their bumming selves when we get to where we are? Free money, my ass. He needs a fucking job, is what. Him and the rest of them need to catch up on what I don't have. I feel like a fucking CEO being friends with a bunch of drunks living in ditches who don't appreciate for me, but for what I do for them. And I don't think they even appreciate it. They take me for granted and I'm sick of it.
This entry sounds angry, but it's not. It's hurt. I've been crying the whole time I've been typing this. I've been crying on and off all day. Fucking tears. Fucking biology. Fucking being female. Get lost, weaknesses.