ARCH And She Keeps One. Keeping an Archive is Tedious, but She Wants One Because She Adores Everything She Writes. Hah. Honestly. And There Are Archives for 11/01/2002 - 11/30/2002 and 12/1/2002-12/31/2002 and That's All. Thanks for nothing, Blogger. Return me to SUNDAY (GIRL:/JOSETTE), goddamnit!
6:47 PM: Wahhhhh, it's cold outside! It's wonderful! I'm very glad that the weather is gettin' lower. It's just dismal to have warm weather during Christmas time, but I suppose it's to be expected living in Florida and all. ^_^ To make the evening even better, my mom just got me young coconut juice with pulp.
Wonderful.
So, anyway, that's all, I suppose. I need to do Cosgrove homework (AP Government), but I only have those reading assignments in my locker. What am I to do? I bloody have a 79... I NEED to do these homework assignments. Usually, I just wouldn't do the fucking thing, but... I've got to. I need to take care of my grades. Especially since I sense that I'm getting a flippin' B in Theology. Oh, the travesties of the world.
Well, goodnight. ^_^ I think I'll read some Sailormoon/Gundam Wing fanfiction and then start writing the next chapter of 'Second Glance.' You know, that fic that I started and never finished?
8:17 PM: Today was a really good day. I'm really glad that I didn't have school. ^_^ Yesterday, I went to bed right when I got home (5 PM) and woke up this morning at 10 AM. It was fabulous. And I was glad because if I'd had school, I would have been late. Again.
All I did today was eat and watch TV and read Harry Potter fanfiction. ^_^ It was good.
I just got back from buying my Christmas gift with my brother. Or rather, his gift for me. I know, I know. Why did I go with him? To make sure I liked what I got. It's cool. ^_^ I got an old-school caligraphy pen with three tips. It's metal. And blue and black dipping ink. And parchment paper. ^_^ So Harry Potter-like. Wahahaha! Alas, but no wax. I think I'll have to buy that for myself. ^_- And I bought Minute Maid Lemonade.
6:17 PM: Long time, no post! Well, I suppose I haven't been posting anything because a) my computer fails to turn on b) I've been busy doing nothing and c) no one reads my blog anyway—I use this space to pour out all of the day's repressed conversation or feelings or rantings. Repressed for a reason I know not. Probably because I don't really trust many people and the people I feel that I can trust shouldn't be trusted. I don't know why I keep trying and trying and trying again to talk to these people who obviously have no time for me. Just no time.
Alas.
So, today was okay. It flew by like that. I actually have my late English essay. I've yet to finish typing it out though. I don't know. I think I just feel odd turning in an essay if I haven't been up all night and look like scary-fucking-hell the next day. ^_^ Heh, that's funny.
I've been really depressed the last three days. Or the last two. I can't completely remember.
Well, last week, Wednesday night, we had family discussion and etcetera between the kids: older sister, second-oldest sister, older brother, and me (in that order for age). Sort of like Encounter where we'd share what was going on and why. We've been having problems at the house because people are cranky and rude and have attitude and treat people badly—mainly me. So, we had a chat and I ended up crying throughout it all. It was refreshing in a way, except that I looked like a psycho-guppy the next day at school. You know, how fishes' eyes stick out?
Yah, that was me.
So, I realized that what people say to me and how they treat me really affects me in a big way. I have, like, the lowest self-esteem ever, but people aren't really aware of this. I always have all of this self-confidence and usually happy demeanor, but underneath I'm all, like, repressed, depressed, and supressed. Oh Lord, the problems. I shouldn't let what people say or how the treat me affect me that much—especially since it's not really bad: a bitchy girl (Nicole-fucking-Muser) asking why I willfully spend time at school after it gets out and Mr. Kirkley pulling poems out of my hand at Literary Magazine.
Sigh.
But she asked in a really rude and demeaning way. It had the tone of What-are-you-still-doing-here?-Are-you-a-fucking-nerd-or-what? to it. I was really damned pissed after that incident.
And Kirkley being rude like that?
I guess I understand and all, but he was a really big dick yesterday (long story, sort of). So, I told him today that I was really mad at him for being mean yesterday, which made me really want to kill him—and not in a friendly way, of course. I really wouldn't kill him, but I was that mad. I guess I shouldn't have said anything. But I always feel better after I tell people how I feel. I feel like I can forgive them. And I forgave him after I said it. But now I'm offended again because he was pulling poems outta my hand.
Who does that?
These incidents were not really life-threatening or anything. Nothing really traumatic. But, you know, it still hurts. I'm just really sensitive. It's good and bad. I pick up on other's feelings and reactions really well, but I'm also affronted very easily. But it's okay because I forgive easily. But I also get pissed when they just keep being fuckin' rude. I want to kill these people.
Alas and alack.
Anyway, I'm going to read some Harry Potter fanfiction and then finish my bloody-fucking-late English essay. FWAP! On a happy side note: Josephine gave me Incubus: Morning View for Christmas. I adore it. ^_^ I'm listening to it right now. Hmm. A good day then, eh?
1:05 PM: I wish I had money. Money is important. I think I'm going to get a job. Maybe convince some poor chap that I can create webpages (which I can, but they're pretty static) and get paid. Goddamnit. I really want some of these. They're gorgeous. I really want Wasteland, Around the House, and Animal Orgy. Beautiful.
Money, I need it.
Goddamnit, and Christmas is coming around the corner. I totally feel that if I got my hands on some money, I'd probably just buy a bunch of shit for myself. Man, Pathetic. I REALLY want some of those prints though. They're fucking amazing.
Man, for AOL, I have sound effects for my buddylist. It fucking startles me. I have a door slam for when people leave, and whenever I hear it, I feel unloved. Sort of stupid since I don't talk to them most of the time, but... really, it's highly depressing.
11:26 AM: I have strange dreams when I'm cold. They're always choppy and brief, which makes me unable to remember them when I wake. I had trouble falling asleep last night, or rather this morning, and I was cold throughout. Not even the odd fantasies I think up from time to time led me toward blessed slumber. When I did eventually fall asleep, I couldn't tell because my dreams felt like mere imaginings. So, of course, I awoke with the sense of stolen slumber, the feeling I had not gone to sleep at all.
Which is annoying.
I went to church today at 7:30, a major difference when compared to my not going to church at all. It was cold, but enjoyable. Sort of. Brother Don was there to talk about retirement for elderly religious people, mainly the nuns and brothers. It was annoying. He saw me after church and said hello. I like and dislike him. He's a good, amusing guy, but he comes across as a pervert to me. Yucky. He's always well-dressed though. So, we can forgive him.
When I'm bored, I think up stories and situations. So, of course, all through church I was thinking up stories that I would write if I ever remembered them. I was thinking of writing about the queer tendencies that each of my family members have, which led me to remember this one story I wanted to write about Mr. Kirkley and Mr. Heffernan.
I had been in the room when they'd started talking about putting up a fish and chips shop. Them serving, of course, beer with the fish and chips. Just serving the fish right in newspaper or wax paper or some other. I was amazed. There was a short story happening right before my eyes. I was going to name it "A Teacher's Afternoon". It would only be a paragraph of descriptions and then pure dialogue:
The students had gone, and the only audible sound was the hum of the central air and the tapping of Mr. Kirkley's shoe. He was at a loss for there was nothing to do, no tutorials to give, no essays to grade. He decided to walk the fifteen steps to Mr. Heffernan's classroom, but was dismayed upon arrival to find one of his former students already talking with his fellow English teacher.
Though, I probably wouldn't add the part of me being there since it would mar the story.
I was really itching to write out this story, but I knew it would be quite futile because I couldn't remember what they had exactly said. Rather disappointing, but I'll always remember that almost-story. It was beautiful. I'd probably name it "Beautiful Afternoon" now that I think about it.
We got home from church, and I read the Sun-Sentinel. There was an interesting article about the mounting sexual aggressiveness found in adolescent females who've gained this attribute from their parents (Baby Boomers who questioned the norm) and music videos with Britney Spears and Christina Aguillera expressing sexual aggression and pleasure. I agreed with only some of the article; there was something I disagreed with, but I can't exactly remember it. I'll have to bring it into school to rant about it properly.
Then I ate breakfast.
I also starched and ironed my brother's Structure khakis for five dollars. I probably would have ironed it for free, but he asked me how much it would cost for me to iron them. I do lots of odd jobs for my brother, such as ironing and homework and essays. He pays well. I'll take academic work over manual labor any day. I mean, fuck the dishes and sweeping the floor. That just plain SUCKS.
I'm in the process of fixing my archives up. Tedious shit, if you ask me, but I prefer it to doing any other sort of work. I mean, make a beautiful website v. homework. You don't need a lot of brainwork to figure that out.
So, I'm sitting here with my raspberry tea and Party 93.1 on. And my 'Fuck Around' time is quickly waning. No really, on my 'To Do' list, my 10:00-11:00 slot says 'Fuck Around.' Sigh. And it's past 11:00. Damn it. Am I ever going to explode?
Spontaneous Combustion is our friend.
12:21 AM: I'm sleepy. I didn't do any homework. I'm useless. It's late. Haha.
