Subject to change and transition. As much as I love these things, to a larger extent they are certainly the most painful aspects of life. I am completely and utterly numb. The only emotion running through my body right now is grief. The only word that runs through my mind is "alone." So this is what I've been yearning for, emptiness. Well, Megan, was it what you had hoped it would be? I really didn't hope for anything except independence. That has been the major theme of my life for the past two years, what I've been constantly striving for. This sense of self. But now I see what I've done, and it doesn't feel productive at all. Did this really just happen, because everything feels like a dream right now. I'm seeing life so differently, as if I'm in a fishbowl, staring out at everyone else. I don't feel like part of the living anymore. I feel dead. I feel empty and alone. I don't want anything. Except peace, which is millions of miles away. I am a ghost. Or at least, that's how I feel. Like nothing at all. Like I have nothing inside me. But here I am, taking breaths, blinking, typing. Is this what I wanted all this time? A feeling of voidedness. It's funny how life plays tricks like this on your emotions. One minute you want out, and when you feel the cold air and become aware of the emptiness and nakedness that you have placed yourself in, you despritely want back inside. Funny. All I can think to do is write at the moment. That's all my mind knows how to do. I just ripped my own heart out. I just killed myself. For what purpose. I don't want anything, except what I had, but I wasn't even happy with that, so what's the point??? These are the moments... I don't even know what's going on right now. Here I am, in this town full of so so many people, and yet I still feel so alone. The world has become something that doesn't interest me anymore. People walk by, I see them, but they aren't really there. Because it doesn't matter anymore. There's no point. I'm all alone. All alone. Even though you tell yourself that you have people, all it really comes down to is you and your brain. Friend or foe? I can't tell. I have never in my life, although short, felt this empty and futile as a human being. Because I don't want anything anymore. Not a damn thing. Except to be happy again, like I used to be. Nothing was too much. It was warm. It was a happy time. And now I can't stop the tears and I think I should go to bed.

I must say, seeing a cat without a collar is refreshing and freeing. Martha has had this stupid flee collar on for months, and I am possitive it doesn't work. So I just took it off. Oh, not to mention, it smells nasty. Like baby powder. I hate that smell. There's this new guy I work with named "Mike," and he smells like English muffins. It drives me nuts because I really like English muffins, but I don't much like him. I get really hungry when I'm standing next to him on pizza line. It's strange. I think Martha is relieved to not be wearing that pointless and unfashionable collar. Maybe she'll be a bit less crazy now. Yeah, so, I was at work the other day, and everyone is sick and coughing, with the exception of this one man named Bradley. B-rad. Yeah, and he says something to the affect (effect?) of, "There's so much coughing in this pizza place, it's like we're working in the mines or something." So I retort, "Yeah, we've all got pizzalung." And I thought it was very clever. But I find that I'm really weird, and people don't do well with weird sometimes. It doesn't compute with them, and makes me want to be normal and pretentious like everyone else or something. But I like saying what I'm thinking. For instance, I told that Mike character that he smells like English muffins. I don't know. Sometimes I just think life would be easier if I never talked at all. Just kept to myself, and didn't say much. Because people just don't get it. I really don't think it's me who's so daft and clueless. But I'm pretty sure that's what everyone thinks. It's a funny thing. I'm really hard on myself because of the way I look, and I think that really takes a toll on the capability of my mind. I think I have a wonderful mind. A creative mind. A wise mind. Sometimes I feel very old. I'm not trying to sound full of myself, I just need to be reminded. And very very few people can do that for me. Remind me of these things. Not many people know how. The majority of the world's occupants are far too focused on themselves. Hm. I had the craziest dream last night. It was distubingly, strangly beautiful. It wasn't as vivid as most. Maybe it had to do with me listening to ambient music on repeat all last night, I don't know. I think that may have had an effect (affect????). Anyhow, I was walking down the street, jaywalking I believe, and if I remember correctly, all these people were running around in a frenzy, and this older policeman grabbed me and threw me onto the ground. He was holding me down and staring into my face, shining this flashlight into my eyes, seeing if I was on Drugs. I freaked and started screaming at him to lay off, and quit treating me like some stoner hippy. Then it became weird and fast. Somehow in that ten second span he found out that I had done drugs because he did a hair test. So I started running and running, away from these officers of the law. Sidenote: I find that I'm either my ideal self or worst self (in terms of my figure) in my dreams, never the way I am. I think that has something to do with my selfconcept. Anyhow, I get to this gas station, and I've got to hurry before they find me. I buy some coffee, a lot of coffee if I recall correctly, and jelly beans, or maybe they were Mike & Ikes. I love those. I'm getting all this stuff because I have to leave, and travel for a really long time to escape these police. And I asked this random man for help in the gas station. He was really tall. And helped me carry the things I had purchased. The next part I don't really remember. Then I'm in these woods, these scary woods, dark and brown. And I find this old woman who's been expecting me. She opens this door, and in front of me appears this white staircase. This place is like a paradise of sorts, and I'll be safe in there. Everything is pure and white and beautiful. I just remember feeling whole. Then I realized that these men where still after me, and they had found this paradise and were coming inside. I think that was the end of the dream. It was just emotionally strange. Everything felt very odd and overwhelming. I enjoy my dreams for the most part. They're very interesting to me, and the majority of my friends. I don't know. I wish I understood them better. And by that I don't mean I wish I could interpret them. Because I really think that the majority of what you dream deals with what you saw during the day, and what was filtered into your subconscious throughout your waking hours. I just don't understand how they take form. How they make stories, still incorperating what you saw or heard, but at the same time maintaining a sense of originality that you yourself didn't come up with. Strange. I can't write anymore tonight. I'm feeling very unnerved. And it's late.

People are funny things. Sometimes I don't feel like a human being. I feel like I'm just watching these ugly looking animals that don't make any sense half the time. Like I'm a housecat. Just watching. Speaking of housecats, mine just fell off the couch. Oh, Martha... Anyway. I find that half the time, all I'm ever doing is watching, observing these creatures scampering, prowling all over the place, doing crazy things, and speaking this language that boggles my mind. For-shizzle???? Wha? I wonder if I'm crazy. Sometimes I feel like I'm a lot different compaired to everyone else. But at the same time, considering the fact that we are all on center stage/in the spotlight of our own lives, I'll bet that I'm just as boring as the next person. I'd like to think otherwise. I'd like to think that I'm interesting, that people think of me as something unique. But in the long run, I suppose it really doesn't matter anyway. Soon enough I'll get cancer, die, and be six feet under, forgotten by all. That's really depressing. Hmmm. Yeah, that's really really depressing. Yet, at the same time, I'm living a life. I'm a part of this big crazy world, and I'm just lumped into this big group of possible consumers. The only people who really care are companies it seems. For instance, the cigarette companies. Will I buy there cigarettes? They sure hope so, make some profit, a "replacement smoker" for my father. I hate this sense of mortality that I get. This sense of gradual death and decay. Like what the fuck does anything matter. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna be forgotten. I'm in this split second of time, which is pretty much ordinary. It makes me not give a fuck about myself. But at the same time, There are people I love, and they are all I have in life, and soon enough they will be part of the soil I stand on. As far as the things I own, I couldn't care less, as far as I go, I don't even know what I think about that. All that really matter are the people I love. It almost makes me wish I didn't care about anyone, not even myself for that matter. Life. Augh. I hate thinking the way I do sometimes. Stupid winter not helping. Sometimes it just seems like nothing will ever help me, and no one will ever get me. I've been practically alone in my own mind my whole life, and I suppose it just might stay that way forever. Wow, I'm being really introspective and depressing. Let's see...kitties are nice, and, yeah, kitties does it for me. If there is anything that keeps me going, it's kittens. They sure are cute.

Oh media...when will you learn. I find that whenever the TV is on, I don't hear what I'm supposed to hear. Sometimes I don't hear anything at all. Not in the sense that I'm zoned out, and everything is slipping into my brain subconsciously, but I see mouths moving, and it's all the same shit. And then there's Dave Chappelle. Oh man, I just watched this sketch about a "racial draft" and it was really funny. He slays me. Especially his white man impersionation. So, I just got a tattoo this Sunday. I like it a lot. People keep asking me what it represents, which is funny, because it was really just a doodle in my notebook that I thought was cool. And they say, "Oh, so it doesn't mean anything important to you?" And I say, "Nope." I think they think that's stupid. But the way I see it, yeah, I could get something emotional or whatever, but I don't really have anything like that. Maybe I could have done some research on Norway, and found some cool image pertaining to my heritage, but what would that really mean? Sidenote, Joan Rivers is frightening. Anyway, yes, so my tattoo is a simple cymetrical design, it has no specific meaning, and I like it a lot. I plan on getting many more all over my back. I just want a beautiful, inticate design. I have ideas, which I'll eventually put on paper. It'll be reminicent of hema. I'm taking my mom to get a tattoo on her 50th birthday this March. She wants something Celtic. I said, "Mom, you aren't Irish or anything." She agreed and told me she didn't care, she just liked the look of Celtic knots and crosses. When my friend Lauren turns 18, I'm taking her to get some of her mom's artwork tattooed on her left breast. Her mom died of breast cancer twelve years ago. I think it's gonna be really cool, and hott. I thought it would be corney at first, but I find that it's really expressive and beautiful. All she has left of her mother, and all she has really ever known of her, is her artwork. So I think it'll be an honerable way to remember her mother. It'll make something beautiful out of a tragic loss. Tattoo's are kind of like sex. You get it once, and you can't wait to get more. Man, you know, I hate when I'm about to say something in a conversation, and I get out a syllable or two, and the person I'm talking with interups me to say whatever the hell is that they wanted to say that's oh so much more important. Or when I tell someone something, and they say, "Well, I wouldn't do it that way, I would do it my way." And I didn't even ask for their fucking opinion in the first place. Wow. Well, I'm going to bed now. Maybe there won't be school again tomorrow.

For the most part, that is, with the acception of a few, music videos primarily suck a lot. People have such an opportunity to make really interesting and beautiful visual references to their songs, but 98% of the time they fail. I absolutely hate hate hate videos where you are simply watching the band or someone singing, who I might add is quite obviously dubbed, which I suppose it somewhat necessary, but with out a doubt obvious. I would much rather see something creative and, maybe subject to interpretation. Right now I'm watching a video where this man is singing into the camera while simultaneously having naked sex with some random chick. Yeah. Not to mention he keeps changing his clothes! Ah! Wonderful, now it's the memorable Justin Timberlake. Look, he wants to be like Michel Jackson. All these fabulously beautiful women hanging on him. Women certainly objectify themselves. Man, nothing is original anymore. Every song I hear on the radio, every "new" band I hear sounds just like the next. When will it kick in for everyone. Oh yeah, never, because that's jst not going to happen. Frusterating.

Man, what to say... School has re-convened. I had my Astronomy class today. My prof is probobaly in his mid-seventies, was wearing a bright yellow cartigan, all buttoned, the hair that he had was properly slicked to his head and parted to the side, he sported a hankerchief, and had a fitting old man hunch. He was really dull, but overwhelmingly amusing. He reminded me of that telastronomer with the crazy hair and the nerdy voice. I appriciate the fact that he is very passionate about his teachings. He laughed a lot, after telling us some random fact. For instance, we were talking about Galileo, and he got really excited about trying to make us guess what Galileo's true, worldly profession was, then enthusiastically stated that Galileo had been the head of the coin minting company in his day, which was a great job, so he didn't want to loose it over showing his support of the heliocentric theory!!! After class I asked him a really silly question, but for some reason I had never thought about it before, so I had to know. My question was relating to the seasons; I asked him if it was summer on the other side of the world right now. I felt really stupid for asking it, but I have never really payed (paid...? I don't....know) much attention to those things, so I was ignorant and curious. He got really excited that I had asked anything at all, and began shaking his head violently and saying "Yes, yes it is!!!" I'm really excited about that class now. It's funny because it deals with geometry and physics a lot, things I have never been too good at, but my mind hasn't worked with those subject matters in quite a while, so it is nice to have those gears turning again. I have a new, fresh handle on them. And I love the stars, so this should be pretty fun. The history part I can deal with just fine. I'm excited to learn about the moon cycles and the zodiac's relationship to astronomy. Zodiac means "little animals" by the way. The more you know...