So, my friend Lauren was just telling me about how she was staring into her cats face earlier today, and as she gazed, the cat began to look more and more like a human being. This scared the shit out of her, and she proceeded to push the cat forcefully away. She was scared of her cat. Weird. Drama kills me. For real. It kills my brain and my heart. I've been having a really hard time dealing with it lately. Every time I encounter it I just feel like walking away from the people causing it. You know, just leaving. Or I have these thoughts cross my mind while the drama is occurring. They mainly involve me freaking out and screaming and jumping out car doors to escape the annoyance of excess human emotion. Salvation fantasies is what I shall call them. And as my face hits the pavement I'll breath a sigh of relief. I'd like to make more friends. Searching for friends. I've never in my entire life been in a social group. I've never had a "clique" or a steady group of comrades. I don't think I'll ever have that either. I can't tell if that's sad or not. I've just always had Lauren. I think that is more than sufficient. She's the only one who understands the way my mind works. I'm moving in with another lady, and I don't think she knows how bizarre I am. I was joking around with Lauren at work the other day, and she looked at us like we were psychopaths. Is she in for a treat. That was nothing. Lauren and I made up this game this summer that involved pretending to be different people, usually lovers, arguing. We would start screaming at each other, then laugh hysterically. I can't imagine what people watching us thought. It would usually be between two lovers who had drifted apart, and were berating one another. She would say,
"I haven't loved you for years!"
"Well, you know my work keeps us apart. That new archeological dig in Egypt is a big deal, and I have no time for your petty emotions."
"It doesn't matter, I've been seeing someone else."
"Not that sleazy pool cleaner, Lucas."
"Yes, don't act so surprised. It's not anything new."
"You mean..."
"Yes, that's right, we've been together for about three years now, ever since he saved me from that escaped tiger. If you even cared a little you would have known. We leave for Aruba in four days."
"I see. Well, in that case I won't bother to put you in the Will."
"What in God's name do you have a Will for?! You're perfectly well."
"I don't suppose you care, but, well, you see, I'm dying. The doctor says I have a brain tumor the size of a grape fruit. I have about two months to live."
"No..."
"Don't act so sympathetic. I could never believe another word you said after all you just confessed to me."
"It can't be..."
"Well, it is, and you get nothing. You heartless bitch."

That was fun. I'm really tired. Stupid double shift. Stupid no fun that I had tonight. Stupid stupidness of people. Stupid song. What song you mean? Fuckin' bitches at the Holiday Inn. Augh. Get out of my brain. Well, all I have to say is that I... I don't know.

What to do. What to do. Antisocial evenings have been a rarity lately, but tonight I'll stay alone. Friends are with other friends and watching movies with boys. I sit alone. A much needed seclusion. What to do. There's always Grounds. But it's 12 am, which means I'll have to find something interesting elsewhere. Pisanello's. Talk. Tell some stories. I was just here for hours. I'll be on my way now. To Howard's. Picture this: Man in forties, wearing a silk shirt with yellow and orange flames, thick mustache, not proportional to large face and huge bonch. He dances alone. He plays air guitar to the blues music that's blaring from the stage. Air Guitar. He's drunk and hilarious. Must contain laughter. Can't stop staring at this large man playing air guitar. The music is just what I needed. A hippy dances in the corner. A release for him. He lets his hair down, and beats his hands on the wall. Getting something out of his system. A middle aged woman goes crazy on the frets of a guitar. Makes it sound like a violin. Makes it sound like it's backwards. Makes me smile. She was damn good. It's 2 am. Talk to my friends older sister for two minutes. She looks and talks just like my friend. I'd like to tell her, but she already knows. I'm sure she's heard it a million times. But it's so uncanny. I'm wearing sandals. Walk to the Grill. My usual booth. People swarm in. I can't stop staring again. Fat man with a tattoo on his left arm. He's wearing a denim, sleeveless shirt. His arms are flabby. What is he trying to be. A man with a small head chews with his mouth open. I start looking at people's teeth. They're all so different in every mouth. Weird. People are really pouring in. Should I move. I know if I ask Niki will tell me not to. It's always nice to have just one sane booth she says. Someone quiet and keeping to themselves. Only coffee to refill every once and again. A man with black gloves and a black shirt approaches. Mumble mumble. No they aren't trying to tell me to move. It's him and a girl. You two can sit here if you want. They do. Brian and Tina. She plays volleyball, he has a degree in Marketing. They met on the internet. She's going to be a math teacher. He lives in Ann Arbor. She, in Bowling Green. They met on the internet. We talk. It's beautiful. I don't have a clue who these people are, I'll never see them again. He wants to marry her, start a family, get a dog. White. Picket. Fence. The home fries are good. Extra crispy? Sure. They'll do that. They choose to stay and sit with me. She does this thing where she smiles and sticks her tongue out, and sort of bites it. Interesting. Does she think it's cute? Does Brian? It's takes forever to get their food. They finally eat. I have a smoke and tell Pat, the cook, about my new "friends." Brian and Tina leave. I wish them luck, and the best life has to offer. Brian tells me to keep writing. I wonder if they'll get married. Have kids. A dog. A fence. I'll never see them again. Strange. I'm at the computer. I start thinking:

What a great night. So full of wonderful interludes. I'm wondering a lot. About myself. I hate feeling like people are laughing at me. Part of me says, "Who the fuck care?" The other says, "I do." I wish so many things right now. I wish: I wasn't so talkative, I was in a different place, I could make new friends, Lenny and Carl were here, I was moved into my apt, I didn't say that I would work a double shift tomorrow, I was stunning, I could figure it out. Life, what do you have to offer me? I keep getting parking tickets. That's what pennies are for. I was thinking today, about how attractive boys are attractive, but full of themselves because they know their attractive. So that's out. Ugly boys are, well, ugly. I like the boys in the middle. The one's who have learned to depend on their mind instead of their face. Overtime, they become the most attractive. I smell like Grill. Ew. My brain hurts. Time for bed. Stupid brain. I'm beginning to think that's I have two parts of my brain that work against each other. I just wish I could figure it out. Know what to think all the time. Know when to stop. Mind reading would be a horrible gift to have. I'm glad no one can read minds. However, sometimes, I think people can. I get really paranoid about it. Someone will react a certain way after I think something, and I'll think, "What if they're reading my thoughts... I know, I'll think something horrible about them, like they smell like english muffins, and if they look up at me, with a strange look on their face, I'll know, that they can read my mind." Either I'm completely wrong, or those mind readers are really good at keeping control over themselves. I smell like Grill and many many Cigarettes. Man, sleep now. I wish I didn't care about what people thought. That's my last rant. I don't really care, but I'd really like to know. I try to be an honest person, but people really don't like that at all. They could at least appreciate it, don't ya think. Man, why can't we all just be honest. I think I'll get my lip pierced next Thursday. And by the way, it turns out that it's FebRuary, not Febuary. Coulda fooled me. Damn. Let's write something thoughtful to end this with... a resolution. I hate those. To sing at Howard's. That would be very cool. I think........ And I guess that's all that counts.

Passenger

hear I lay
still and breathless
just like always
still I want some more
mirrors sideways
who cares what's behind
just like always
still your passenger
chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces
these and other lucky witnesses
now to calm me
this time won't you please
drive faster
roll the windows down
this cool night air is curious
let the whole world look in
who cares who sees anything
I'm your passenger
I'm your passenger
drop these down then
put them on me
nice cool seats
there to cushion your knees
now to calm me
take me around again
don't pull over
this time would you please
drive faster
roll the windows down
this cool night air is curious
let the whole world look in
who cares who sees what tonight
roll these misty windows down
to catch my breath again
and then go and go and go
just drive me home then back again
here I lay just like always
don't let me
go take me to the edge


This is one of my favorite songs. Deftones. And Maynard. I'm in a really weird mood. I think it's time to mix things up a bit. Make some changes. Which reminds me. I keep having this dream where I'm cutting all of my hair off, or shaving my head. It weirds me out. Sometimes, after the sheering, I feel a release, other times I start crying. That's one of the only dreams that has made me ponder whether or not it had meaning. When I was about seven years old, and my family lived on Prospect, I remember standing in the bathroom on a stool, and staring at myself in the mirror for what seemed like hours. All I kept thinking was that I'm a human being, an individual, and how bizarre that feeling was. I still do that. Life is a strange thing. I don't think I'll ever figure it out. Not ever. I can't think right now. Saturn comes back around. To show you everything. Let's you choose what you will or will not see again. Drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again. Spits you out like a child, light and innocent.

All work and no play makes Megan a pissed off lady. But I do need the cash. The kittens need their ovaries removed and their shots injected, my car is about 2500 miles over the suggested oil change schedule limit thing, and someone is going to have to start paying rent in about a week. Oh ya, that's me. Those are about all my "needs" right now. That and the required amount of daily coffee that keeps me stable. Oh stability through drugs. I hate new years resolutions. I think they're pointless. For the majority, they last about a week, a month max. I hate TV sometimes. I wish there were some way to make your TV play only the shows you wanted to watch, all the time. I would program mine to play The Daily Show, The Simpsons, Strangers with Candy, Clarissa Explains it All (Fergface, ha!), Rocko's Modern Life, The Adventures of Pete and Pete, Looney Toons, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, The Brak Show, Space Ghost Coast to Coast/Cartoon Planet, Harvey Birdman... Wow, there are a lot of shows I enjoy, and I'm getting tired of listing them. Maybe TV is more important then I thought... Hm. I think my first child, if it be of the male variety, shall be named Calvin. There aren't hardly enough Calvins. And I always loved Calvin & Hobbes. Oh, that silly boy, who uses words I don't understand sometimes. When will he learn. Or maybe, when will I learn. (sigh) Anyway, yes, I just wrote a paper on some speech of George W.'s, and I'm exhausted. Stupid English muffin boy not closing for me. Whatta punk. I'm getting bored. It's always the same thing. When is life gonna mix it up for me. When I move to Pittsburgh, that's when. I've often thought that if I was friends with Conan O'brian then I wouldn't have a care in the world. Maybe I'll give him a call, and see if he wants to be my friend... I'm thinking about getting my lip pierced. Maybe that'll shake things up. The only problem with that is my friend was thinking about doing the same. The problem lies in the crazy minds of women. If I was to get it pierced, before or after her, she'd say, "Awesome," but mean, "You idea stealing bitch." And the problem there lies in the fact that she would probably be the millionth person to get her lip pierced. Unbeknownst to her... Ugh, stomach making crazy noises. Maybe I just need to watch The Royal Tenenbaums again. I wish summer was here. Now, thank you. Then I'd feel better. I'd feel like a million bucks. Two million. I just need to shed some weight. Like 40lbs. Then I'll be as happy as a clam. Assuming that clams are always happy, even when being eaten. That reminds me, the phrase "out of your cotton-pickin' mind." Where does that derive from. Racial slur? Maybe. I think it all begins with a slave named Jeffery, who decided to escape one night, and told his friend Barnebus, to which Barnebus replied, "Are you out of your cotton-pickin' mind?!?!?!?" That's what I think. Well, bed is calling. I probably had a million other random things to say, but they just aren't coming to the surface at the moment. Why do I even write, though. What am I achieving? The only thing I find in these rants is more crazy in my brain. Well, at least I'm not crazy yet. Maybe that's what it's doing for me. Helping me sort, like a filing cabinet. This way all my thoughts aren't bottled up in my head, so I don't start screaming and yelling and throwing and breaking things, like a crazy would do. I feel like doing that sometimes.

So irritated. Ugh. I hate how fast the world moves. How I have to run all over the place sometimes. And how people aren't courteous. I think maybe they want to be, but they don't want to look stupid. Too self oriented. I hate cars. I hate having to buy gas. I hate having to drive for a half hour to get to class everyday. And then having to look for a parking spot. I just hate all this daily bullshit. I'd like to enjoy myself. And I try to not let all this bother me, but it accumulates and then I just can't takes no more. I wish I was a cat. And just sat around all day. Playing with pieces of string. Eating catnip. That would be the life. Stupid cats, having it made and all. At any rate, it's a very lovely day. The sun is shining, and I'm getting my kerotein. I don't know how to spell that. If I had a dog I would name it "Spunky." I miss Rocko's Modern Life. Oh, and the guy that I work with that smells like English Muffins got fired. No more muffin cravings. And I like crosswords a lot.

I was going to bed, but then I thought, "Hey, I'll catch up on reading people's blogs." And it was disapointing to say the least.

Well. That was dramatic. Sometimes I amaze myself. But anyway, the past is in the past, so let's move on to greater things. Like the solution. Pittsburgh is the solution. I am going to move there. Away from the monotony of this town. Apart from that, I don't know. All I can think about right now is sex. I'm sure everyone has heard the "fact" that every human thinks about sex every 6 seconds. Well, that's probably true. I'd like to assume that no one is going to read this, so I will continue. And in the event that there are in fact people reading this... I'm not going to apologize or anything, because you probably want to hear what I am going to say, not because you think it might be profound or anything, just because I mentioned the word sex. Anyhow, yes, What is it about sex that is so... That's a stupid thought, but I can tell you what sucks about sex, bladder infections. Man oh man. There is nothing in the world that exceeds them in annoyance and agony. They are probably the worst thing that could happen to a girl. They ultimately control you for about 3 days. Relentlessly. And when you think they are gone... BAM! They aren't, and come back in super mega full force. Sometimes I debate whether or not I would pass up sex if I knew it would result in a bladder infection. Oh yeah, and then there's pregnancy. Which is funny, because that's pretty much the idea behind sex, to get pregnant. If you ignore the perks and all. Think about it, that's really all that sex is for: making babies. In a matter of speaking that is of course. Dolphins and humans are the only two animals that have sex for pleasure, or so I've heard. Anyway. I'm tired. So, I'm gonna go to bed. There is something that I probably cherish more then sex however, which is just sleeping next to someone. That's probably my most favorite thing in the world. There's just something about it. I don't know. Bed.

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...

It's been a little while, but I'm writing again. I've been writing in this handy little notebook that I carry around with me, so I haven't had use for the computer lately. The exception of which being "web-registering" for my classes this semester, which has been painfully difficult. I've been out a lot too. Not doing anything, just out. I haven't really been able to sleep well until last night, where I slept from 12am until 1:30 today, and I certainly would have slept longer if I hadn't been awakened by my friend. She didn't really startle in me into alertness so much as the shirt she was sporting. It had Winnie the Pooh (What the hell is a "pooh"? I don't understand) and Tigger on it, and they were wearing "Santa hats" and the words "Merry Christmas" read below them as they seemed to dance. Weird and ugly. So the first thing I groggily said this morning was, "Where the hell did you get that shirt?" It was the epitome of everything I hate in clothing. Almost everything. I suppose if it were a sweatshirt or velvety material I might have abhorred it more. Anyway, everything is pretty much well with me. I've been really depressed this week. Just lonely and horribly bored with this town. But I'm going out of town tomorrow, and I'm hoping to go to Pittsburg this Monday, so maybe that will be refreshing. Let's hope so.

My final exam starts in about 40 minutes. That means it'll all be ovre soon. And I can sleep like a bear in hybernation. Oh Man, I am tired and hurty. Body is rejecting itself and I feel like shit. Assuming that since shit is generally disgusting, it feels really miserable all the time. 39 minutes. Better go.

But I suppose maturity levels have nothing to do with acting like a child. By acting like a child I mean, playful and happy. There is something depressing about striving to be percieved as older. Maybe people just act that way because they are that way. But pretentious people bother me like nothing else. Where's the fun? I can see it, but it doesn't seem too enticing to me. Where's the laughter? With the exception of that towards others who are less than brilliant. We act so smart. Like we know so much, and we are so interesting and thoughtful, analitical and open-minded. We are adults who know all. Why can't people just let go of all that every once in a while. By that I don't mean any sort of sedative either. Honestly, we all know how to act old, and with that in mind, and the fact that we do act old when we need to, why can't our minds race and our laughter echo. Everyone has to act proper. But I think that it's those people who, although seem to be "getting it right" in their own minds, are the ones who are missing the point entirely. And that point is living. Chosing to fret instead. Chosing to settle. Chosing to waiste a precious life. Growing old and realizing that all that time they spent worrying about doing or saying the right thing, acting the right way, presenting themselves as responsible, mature adults was a horrible waiste of time and effort. Maturity and dignity aren't the issue, having a good time and realizing your age is what should be considered. Where's the humility anymore? No one can admit to their wrongs. No one can take a step back and see where they fell. It's all about fitting in. Ya right.

In a feeble attemt to regain any peace that she once had, she started to type again. Thinking about nothing and everything. Had she really been to work that night, and talked to the strangest people, and come to all those conclusions? I think so. There wasn't much to say anymore. It had all been said, and was about to be revised and listened to, but all was lost, and turned into a box in the corner of the screen. The issues that were touched were that of a man, acting the part of a child, even though, in all reality, he still was one. But we excellerate the maturing process so much these days. Well, not everyone, but those who see it do. A world were the children hate childhood. Striving to something new. Pushing for the possition of the wise, but posessing no wisdom. He was a child. His eyes were those of a child, wandering and hopeful. Or maybe he had managed to hold onto those feelings and dreams, whereas we have all been raped of those. You won't see these eyes sparkle any longer. But what was he doing? Where was he, and how had he managed to get here? And at the same time I saw in the face next to me something grand. I can't think to explain it now. But I've found that there is somthing that people must do to achieve affectionate reconition in my heart. I can't think of what it is. But tonight I realized it in the eyes of a friend. Eyes that poured out a connection that I recieved and sent back with warmth. So now I see it clearly, and the vail has been lifted, and revealed a clear night sky. I'll make sense later. Now's not the time.

Birthday thusfar: I've only been awake about an hour, and have managed to be bombarded with confusion every step I take. My mo came over around 8:45am. She brought me Fruity Pebbles (yEs! family size!) and a gigantic spider... She said, "Megan, I know how much you love spiders, so I got you thing big one." And she purchased a caard for the spider to give me, and it said, "I thought I'd tell you Happy Birthday, Megan... Before I EAT you!" Which made me laugh a lot. Then she gave me 3 other cards. Two sentimental, and one with a cat on it. The cat one was from my kitty Carl, who is presently living with the rents. The weird thing is that it was only from Carl, even though there are five other cats living there. But the card explained what the others cats were doing. Which confused me greatly. Anyhow, I'm gonna go eat my cereal. YeaH! Oh, I'd also like to add that the computer I am on doesn't have spell check for blogger. Which I don't understand, because every other computer I've been on has it... I don't understand. I'd like spell check for my birthday. Maybe in my brain.

So I keep loosing the "spirit" of things. I believe it started with Easter. As a wee child I loved going Easter egg hunting, but after a time it became dull and too easy. I still like Easter, only because Easter means Jelly beans galore, and man do I love jelly beans. So yeah, Easter was the first to go. Then came Thanksgiving I believe. Once I educated myself on what the early "settlers" were really like, and what really happened, and how Thanksgiving is the stupidest made up holiday ever, I lost the feeling of thanks and Americanism. I suppose it is nice to spend time with family, but the norm is that families only gather because of these stupid holidays. I can't determine whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. It could go either way I guess. Then came Christmas. Not only was it important in a Biblical sense to me (all lies) but there was also that warm Christmas spirit in the air come December 25th. Nat King Cole singing traditional Christmas song, the vents blasting warm air, the smell of cinnomin (no idea how to spell that) presents, and the idea of new things, candy, food, everything that is good and warm. I lost that about three years ago, and it makes me sad. I wish I still felt all these warm feelings. But one year I just never got into it. And then it was over, and I didn't really care, either. Now my birthday means nothing. It's a fun idea, but a stupid one. Yeah, one more year, alive and stuff. I don't feel old or anything like that. I just don't care. I think it has something to do with the fact that last year, my dad lost his job two weeks before my 18th birthday. That birthday was a big deal to me for whatever reason. I think everyone can understand the notion that there is just something significant about turning 18. And my family had great plans. We were gonna go to Chicago, and do fun stuff, and such. A fun birthday was at hand. But then daddy lost his job, and we didn't do anything. We couldn't afford to do anything. I think I got some earrings that I didn't like. And that was it, and a ring from my boyfriend. But that was a really excellent gift, so that was cool. The best gift however was from my little brother Mac. He was I think 14 at the time. He is so creative and funny. He Photocopied his face and made himself saying "Happy Birthday Megan," taped that to a lunchbox with the cast from the show "Taxi" on it (weird) and in that box was one of those tin cases for a trial AOL thing, and in THAT was twenty dollars. It was just so silly, and I loved it. I was just really depressed about the whole situation, and he made it so much better. My other brother didn't give me anything, until my mom made him give me ten dollars. I still hold a bit of a grudge about that. I just have this weird thing about getting gifts. It just seems like no one really thinks about gifts anymore. I don't know. People try, but don't put much thought into gift buying. They may think they do, but I don'y think so. I like getting gifts, but I'm used to not getting them. Even though I'm not used to it because it still disapoints me when I don't get them. I don't know if that makes sense. My mom buys really bad gifts. I know she means well, and is very sincere in her purchases, but she can never get it right. I'll bet I'm a bad gift giver too, but I love getting people gifts. I think that some of the things I get people are too weird. Like I gave my dad a Kenyan stone sculpture last year. I thought it was really cool. The design was intersting, but not too bizarre. And we own other things that it would match with. I wonder if he liked it... I dunno. I got my mother some silver earings. But she doen't wear them. I really love getting people gifts. It makes me happy. Man am I rambling. I think I'm gonna go to bed now.

Officially exhausted. Physically and emotionally. I finished my Edward Scissorhands paper. It's done. Done to the point where it contains the fundamental characteristics that make it at least a decent paper. I feel so ill. I feel sick all the time now. In the stomache. Stupid internal organs. I guarantee they will be the end of me. Absolutely. I had this weird dream about a butler today. I took this crazy nap around oneish. I slept in my friend's bed, because she wasn't home yet. We had a butler. And I think I may have had sex with him. I think that has something to do with my liking old guys. I told my mom that once, that I liked old guys, and her answer to that was that "Yeah, you may like old guys because they seem like real mean, which they aren't, and they may like you because you're young and ravishing and have tight pussy, but the fact of the matter is that it never works out." To which I replied, "So you say there's a chance..." The worst part of that story is that my mother used the phrase "tight pussy." She has a history of using phrases like that which disturb me to no end. Like the time she said "vaginal leakegde" in front of my new love interest. Weird! Awkward doesn't even come close to describing that situation. It's nice to know that we can talk about that time now and laugh about my crazy mom. Anyhow, time for bed.

So yeah. I'm not sure why, but I'm really fucking irritated. At everything and everyone. Not everyone, but a lot of people I know well. I am moving!!! As soon as I can. God! This town sucks so much and breads annoying people. And the TV is on right now, and I don't know why, but it's bothering me too. Stupid fucking TV! I'm so agitated. I could explode with anger right now. I need to leave. This is a horrible place full of horrible people and I don't want to get sucked into this bullshit. I mean honesty. God I'm so pissed off. I feel like cutting myself off from people forever. From all the people that piss me off. Or maybe I should just tell them to their fucking faces that they make me want to puke. But that's a lot of people I guess. I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. It isn't even half true. I just feel really horrible right now. And no one can fix it.

blah.

Today at work I was really questioning whether or not I care about dying. I know that I sort of do, but at the same time, why? What can I avoid, or figure out before it happens. Nothing. So, if I was going to die, I don't think I would do anything about. Just let it happen. Maybe that's a lie. I can't tell. Trying to be logical and realistic, but I just can't. I'm so frusterated. I feel so alone in my thoughts and I don't understand them and neither does anyone else. I can't take this anymore. It's really driving me out of my fucking mind. When I end every day feeling like the only person in the world it gets depressing. And all I want is something new, or too at least loose my mind for real. That would settle it! Fuck!! The only person in the world.

What was I gonna say... I'll just observe for a little while... Martha the cat is extremely cute when she's asleep. However, when she's chewing up the wires to my speakers, well, let's say she's less than precious. I'm wearing a white knitted hat, and my hair is in pigtail brades, braids? Who knows, someone probably. Either way I look like a viking, what with my "braides" and Norwegian face. Sleep is where I'm a viking... Today has to have been a dream. But at least it was a nice one. Some Sublime an Oatmeal hit the spot to make it a great day. Once again, I find myself alone. Typing ramblings to a computer. And wanting to be somewhere else, talking with people. I believe I have this urge because I don't want to think my own thoughts. Some nights they just get way too intense and futile. And it's so hard to pull out of that nosedive. I don't know where these thoughts come from. There are what make me believe in demonic warefar. Or at least demons that is. Demons fighting my mind. I just have to keep myself occupied until I'm too tired to think anymore. I'm usually okay when I'm sleeping next to someone. But my solitude drives me out of my mind sometimes. I mean, I really truly feel crazy. Out of my mind. Or gourd for that matter. Whatever that means... I can understand why people want to be Christians though. I'd like that feeling or warmth and security I once had. Well, maybe I'll go to Big Boy and sit and draw or something. Today, in a crazy recovering from stoned stuper, I made the coolest collage out of an empty cigarette box. It was seriously the most creative thing ever. I cut it up and taped it back together. It makes me happy to know that I can take anything and turn it into something new. Go me.

I just read my last post, and it doesn't make any sense. Puctuation? What's that?

I don't know what to write. I'm really tired, but I can't sleep. My body won't warm up and my brain won't sober up. I'm drinking tea, I thought it might help. I think I should go to bed now. I'm not really working right. It'd really like to fall right asleep. So I don't start thinking about things that, right now, seem so incredibly important, but honestly, they shouldn't. I wish I could just take a bath. That would not only warm me up, but also put me half asleep? Why is Thanksgiving practically skipped? I mean, so many stores are already displaying Christmas decorations. I like Thanksgiving, maybe the best. Fall is such a nice time. Too bad it was sort of skipped this year. The season that is. Um, ya, my birthday is the day before Thanksgiving this year. What am I writing. None of this matters, and I'm tired. That's right.

Debating whether or not to sleep. I could...but I haven't done anything today. Let's see, woke up at 9am. Went to class until 12. Ate macaroni and cheese, (tasted bad) slept from 1pm to 3:29pm, went to work at 4pm, worked, worked, worked some more, got angry, ate chicken, felt ill, got angry again, worked some more, got off of work at 2:30am, came home, washed face, changed shirt, went to Jamie's, watched Life of Brain, laughed a lot... No, can't say that I've done a thing today. I'd like to emphasize the fact that the majority of my day was spent at work. I'd really like to go to The Large Adolecent Male right now, also known as Big Boy. Nothing like smoking inside. But I don't want to go alone. So the question is, to sleep or not to sleep. I'll bet that a) lots of people don't know what the phrase "to be or not to be" is from, and b) they don't get what it means. That is a great play. I love it. I think I'll read it again. I never understood why Shakespeare was so incredibly hard to understand. Maybe I'm just gifted in the ways of language, because I never really had too much trouble reading his work. For other students it was like some foreign tounge. I don't know. I smell of a thousand pizzas right now. It's disgusting. I have a blister on my right hand from cutting pizzas. Stupid, workatorium. Well...

Mmmmm....drugs. Need to work more. Why, you ask? Well, that's simple. I need more money to buy more drugs. Drugs. Drugs. Sedatives. Make-a me happy. In the brain. And everythings okay again. It's like being a child. And I don't have to worry about a god damn thing. Not a god damn thing. So, I had better go to bed before this delightful feeling wears off, and I'm myself again. Sex is a wonderful drug as well. I'd like to bottle that stuff. Yeah sex, best thing ever. Except for the whole baby making thing... Emotion-smotion. Shlonga is the key to happy as far as I'm concerned. And I'm not. Prostitutes have it made. They have lots of sex and get paid for it. Could it get better? Probably. But that's not the point right now, is it? My ethics are fading... fading. Not gonna think about this right now though. Keeping the happy is way too important. God, I'm retarded. And tired. Bed now. Question ethics later.

Tomorrow is a Friday. And it's gonna suck. Man, oh, man. Martin Luther rocks! I imagine Joseph Fiennes is much more attractive then the actual Luther ever could have been, but Luther rocks nonetheless. Anyhow, yes. I love people like that. People who know how to analyze. Not only analyze, but analyze the important things. I'm sure some jock could analyze a tape recorded football game, but what if we all figured out what was truly important, and analyzed those things, instead of all that pointless pish posh. I don't know. "Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind." What was I saying, yes, people who know how to actually THINK! They know how to absorb different ideas, and determine things. Make results happen. Stand up for what they believe in. That is a truly beautiful thing. "Give me something [good] to die for, to make it beautiful to live." I know that's a rock song and what not, but it's funny because it's true. There's nothing I enjoy more then talking with an intelligent individual. And it could possibly be anyone, so I usually let just about anyone talk to me. Then I make my silent judgments. I'm such a bastard. But a smart bastard. Sometimes.

I really love ceramics. I love working the wheel. I just flip out too much. I have high expectation, and when they aren't met, I wig. It should be a soothing time, instead it's exasperating and agitating. I wish it wasn't. Not to mention there are a ton of old ladies hogging the wheels. That superbly pisses me off. Why aren't there more wheels? Why are there so many old ladies? The thing is, I spend twenty minutes or so wedging the clay to make sure there aren't any air bubbles. After that I spend quite a while (depending on the day) centering the clay on the wheel. Then I spend however long, usually quite a while throwing the clay. And at any given time, in a split second I can fuck it up. In a second it can be at the point of no return. That! pisses me off. Talk about discouraging. Speaking of talking, I talked to the girl that took one of my handbuilt pieces. I told her that it was mine. She got really red and was mummbling words about how she had just picked it up. Well, I thought, if you just picked it up, wouldn't you think about whether or not it was yours? People are such assholes. Last night at work I was so pissed off at everything, I didn't even want to be there. If that makes sense. All these nice friendly people, telling me how good the food was, and that I was a good server. One guy even mentioned that business seemed really slow, and I must not be making too much money. He gave me a whole fuckin dollar. If patronizing smiles and compliments and kindness were money, I'd be a very wealthy individual. Stingy bastards. By the way, "spank" is an incredibly hilarious word. I don't mean the definition, just the word itseld. If anyone reads this, think about the word in your head, and say it aloud. It's just really a weird tone and augh! Maybe I'm just really weird in the mornings, because that's when I was thinking about this. Weird, weird, weird...

My mentality takes such a dramatic turn come nightfall. I don't have the same amount of pleasantness and hope that I had during the day. i can't imagine that fatigue would cause such a severe alteration. I wonder if that's a word. I can honestly say that I am much more tired now then I was 5 hours ago, but it's like I get depressed at night. It's that kind of tired. I don't really have much to be upset about. Nothing I can't ignore. I don't know. I feel so young. I feel like an old women in a child's body. I don't know. I don't feel like writing anymore. I don't think it's going to get me anywhere.

Feeling strangely better. Last night I took part in the secret veiwing of the movie Lost in Translation. It was a blast. Just a bunch of people, some friends, and I. We drank some beers, smoked some pot, and drank pina colada mix with a cigarette butt in the bottle. If that makes sense. It was gross and pathetic, but hillarious. A fun time I won't forget. I love those nights.

This is why I hate the night. This is why I can't do this anymore. What's wrong with me. Why can't I simply live. Why can't I not care. Why can't I care enough. I have no hope right now. Nothing to sustain me. I don't want anything tremendous. I didn't ask for much. And apparently the only thing I wanted was way to hard to give. I've made it so simple. I've writen five thousand recipes as to how to make Megan content. They're so simple. One instruction. Just one. And fuck. I have nothing to help me be cathartic anymore. Everything has done it's job for the time I had it. Everything has soothed whatever it is inside me that doesn't want to make me happy. But I've run out of ideas. And all I want to do for the next hour is cry about everything wrong with me. Everything stupid thing I've done. Every mistake I've made. Everytime I've told you that I love you. Because it doesn't matter how much it means to me. And I know that now. Fuck.

Tomorrow is a Thursday. Today has been a mightly long day. Lots of hours being awake. 19 to be exact. I really wish I had some sort of recording device hooked up to my brain, so as to not forget what I was just thinking, five minutes or an hour ago. I've wished this for many years now. I think I can honestly say that I am exhausted. And every night, around this time, that is to say right before I hit the proverbial "sack," I wish I were high. It makes me feel kind of immature saying that, but I just sleep so much better, and the act of falling asleep is so very pleasant. I'm like a scratched record right now. My mind is skipping and skiping this song. I keep thinking, "Who's that kid in the back of the room? Who's that kid in the back of the room? We all think he's really weird. We all think he's really weird." I can't even get the song right, I'm splicing verses together. Everything I eat is making me ill. Tonight at the Grill, whilest studying, I was given free toast from a very wonderful lady named Nikki. She said that all the coffee and thinking I appeared to be doing would make me sick, so I needed food. I was so grateful, but felt very ill at the time and had to force myself to eat most of it. I think I may be allergic to wheat, which would certainly suck. Oh, fabulous story! Today I was leaving Grounds for Thought and prompty put my mittens on at the event of entering the cold air. It turned out that it was raining. I turned to the guy who was sitting at one of the outside tables and remarked, "It's raining, these mittens won't do me much good in the rain." To which he replied, "No, they won't." I paused for a second a stuck my mitten, clothed hands out to show him and said, "But they sure are some really nice mittens!" He smiled and shook his head, and I laughed and waltzed away in the rain; mittens on hands. That interlude made me very happy. Goodnight.

ljasdl;g a;odfhv; advoidhs v09uzcxvlkj ioher09uflzxckv z;lcxk angry..... so so so angry!!!!!!! I can't type swear words on this computer. I can't type swear words on this stupid fu.cking computer. It just erased everything I wrote this piece of s.hit!!!! So full of rage I think I'm going to...Ok. Nevermind, I'm really excited. I'm staying the night at my parents. Too tired to drive home. Just finished essay. So full on jazz information right now. Anyway, I'm excited because I'm going to go onto the roof outside my window and smoke a CIGARETTE! Yeah, that's right folks. I'm doing it for nostalgia's sake. Smokes taste so much better when you're doing them and don't want to get caught. Now I'm thinking of all the wonderful nights I spent smoking cigs and joints out my window. Such nice times. So hilarious. Once I dropped my makeshift piece, and it rolled down the roof and to the ground. I had to go downstairs and retrieve it while my family was watching TV. Trying to act all cool and sober. I don't know. I wish I had some pot right now, and for the last month. If I had only money... I'm sort of getting bored of my present residence. Don't know why. Once again, money would be useful, for which to rent a home for myself and maybe friends. That'd be nice. My new favorite word is "blast". Like, "Blast! I left my car keys inside!" Or "Blast! I don't have any weed! But if I did..." Well, I'm tired. To bed!!!

Tomorrow is a Tuesday. I talk about people I think are, well, there's no real good way to put it, people who aren't doing anything with there lives. I somtimes think they are, for lack of a better term, pathetic. But what am I doing? Maybe the fact of the matter is that I'm too young and busy right now, but maybe that's just an excuse. I certainly hope I can keep focused on my goals and dreams. I don't want to be like all those people I know who settled for less and tell me they are happy with where they are. I try not to judge them for that, maybe they are happy, all I know is I couldn't do that. I don't want that with all my heart. I don't want to live the life that billions and trillions of other people have lived. And I don't see what's so appealing about that lifestyle. You know the one, where you marry and pop out some kids get a fulltime job you hate, but you have to bring home the bacon somehow, then all your kids are grow and you retire, realize you've wasted your life, but try to justify it otherwise. Then you live a little more until your kids have to take care of you. Then you die. Really really sad in my book. (sigh) I just don't know.

Okay, sort of better. Sometimes emotions clog my understanding. I know that he has no emotion, I always have. And I know why. He won't change, I can't make him and don't want to. I'd rather him get hurt really bad, and have someone else lift him up. That sounds mean. Maybe it is, I'm not sure. But it seems like the only thing that would work. But the fact of the matter is that I shouldn't care anymore. It's not worth my emotional strain. Now I can stop asking stupid question like, "Do you love me," because it doesn't matter. I can do without it. But when I think about all the time I've invested, and all the compassion for another human being that I have in my heart, it makes me sad to think it wasn't necessarily worth it. It wasn't worth anything at all. And I knew this would happen, two years ago I knew and didn't care, but I wish I would have. Now I feel like my life is in shambles because of this. I think maybe I'm feeling so nuts is because I'm going through withdraw from my birthcontrol shot. I don't know what the man is putting into those. I can tell you that there is probabaly zero chance of baby-making, but I'm not getting that shit put into me again. Fucked me up right good. I'm such a tool. Fuck me. Well, on that note, I'm gonna put some shoes on and go people watching. It oughta chear me up before I go to the workatorium.

This is why I love my solidude. This is why I keep myself from people. Because emotional attachments can only lead to grief. Especially when you love someone so much, and your affection and passion doesn't make them blink an eye. Maybe my hormones are just off, but I haven't felt tears roll down my face in a long time. These kind of tears. Leave it to me to have a relationship with someone who doesn't understand the concept of emotion. Or even what emotions are, or where they come from. So here I am, always having to explain myself. Why do I want to be close to you? Let's see, what is it, oh ya, it's this emotional bond I have with you. And over the past three years I have aquired much of it for you, so I guess it makes sense. But only to me. And this is my dilemma. I know there isn't a future in this, but what's the point of ending it now? Love is a horrible horrible thing, and I swear to god that I will keep myself away from it. It isn't fair. Why do I deserve this. This isn't working.

I guess I'm really selfish. I feel like I'm not appriciated by anyone. I know that isn't true. But it feels that way. I just saw a man running down the street, but it kind of looked like he was seizing down the street. He was really bald, with a few strands of wild, out of control, white hair on his head. I smell like bonfire. But there was no bonfire, oh no, it was a grill fire. Some friends of mine thought it would be a fun to have a quazi-bonfire, but using the grill. They just threw logs in the grill. Which I guess doesn't matter because it was shit anyway. I should shave my head. That way, when I don't want to shower I won't feel the slightest like I have to. All this hair makes for greasiness. Well, I'm going to go drink coffee and read my book. The spotlight will be on me in my mind. And in everyone I see, they will have the spotlight on their lives. Life is a stage and we certainly are all players. Goffman, I believe is who made that theory. Well, Shakespeare wrote it, but Goffman put it into social context. Lights out.

Really freakin tired. Really freakin bored. Really fucking fed up. I'd like to move away now. Thank you. What to do... How about some spanish: Tengo domir para manana, para... yo no say. I don't know if that last part is correct. My father always told me that boredom is the sign of a weak mind. Maybe he's right. I feel like shit. The shittiest shit ever. Don't know why. Body revolting. Revolting? Homonym to revolting: disgusting? Wrong word choice? Body malfunctioning. Mutiny. Angry sinew. My feline's name is Martha. She is INSANE!!! I guess that's what makes her so great. Her CRAZINESS! That is, until she chews through the wire to my precious headphones. Not cool. Not-at-all. Because I need those. I need my music. Maybe to live. At least keep my sanity. Maybe she was jealous, because she never had the music to keep her sane. And now, well, it's just too late for that crazy fuckin cat. Too late indeed. I'm rambling like a drunk. A completely sober drunk. I'm exhausted. And oh so bored. I'm not bored, just tired. I suppose I've done a lot today. Things that I suppose would, in turn, exhaust me. Getting all fired up about society, walking a lot, playing chess, smoking all the time. I love smoking, too much. I really really should stop. This HAS gotten out of hand and should be dealt with. I think I may have cancer. Too much screaming and smoking makes for a rough voice. I'm going to Taco Bell now. I won't eat their food, don't fret, I just want to hang out with people...

Mmmm, yes. I'm at school. I should be in class, but instead in writing on the computer. It's like I'm in high school again. Skipping class all the time. Um, yes, so I had this dream last night that I was modeling. Weird. But it was interesting. They wanted me to wear these shoes, but I didn't like them and didn't want to wear them, so I put on my notorious flip-flops I always wear. Then I realized I didn't have any makeup, and everyone else had, and was wearing lots of makeup. So I felt ugly, not ugly, but not enhanced, and out of place. And I never got to walk down to catwalk either. I think it had something to do with me vs society. Lately, I've been sort of feeling out of place, but not in a bad way, in a comfortable and easy going, that's how you're going to live and this is how I am going to live sort of way. I don't wear makeup, I can't say never, because I do sometimes. It's usually because I think it's a form of artistic expresion, or, and I hate so say it, because I feel like covering something up, and looking pretty like everyone else. I don't know what happened to me this summer, but I just don't care anymore. I'm almost perfectly content with myself. Ya, I'm overweight, and I know if I tried hard enough I could do something about it, but I personally love food. I'm not glutenous, I just like food a lot. It's tasty. I have never felt this way in my entire life. I can't say that I remember not caring about my appearence. I always, for as long as I can recall, have hated myself tremendously, the way I look, act and my figure. But I don't care anymore. And I never really eased out of that mentality, it just changed on it's own, and I'd really like to know how and why. It's odd. That someone like me, me knowing how I am and the many complexes I've attained over the years, namely through my mother, (I love her, but she instilled some of these self-destructive thoughts into my head, that is not to say she didn't give me lots of wisdoms, because she did.) could just not care anymore. Someone who breathed depression and self-hate. I don't understand. But the fact of the matter is, I don't care. And I think I'm simply at a comfortable mean. I don't think I'm stunning or ravishingly beautiful, but I'm not ugly, and beyond all of that, I don't care. That isn't to say I've become some smelly, dirty hippy, but I see what's important in life, and there are far more important things and I. Not to mention what I look like, and what clothes I wear, and if I have the right shade of eyeshadow to excentuate my green eyes and simotaneously bring out the color of my hair and the tone of my lipstick. Ha... Anyway, I was just thinking. Back to go break all the things I've made this semester.

Last night I went to bed at 9:15 pm. Wha!? Yes, that's correct. I was allowed to leave work early, I think it had something to do with me looking like I was about to pass out. And surprisingly, that's exactly how I felt. When I was taking shower after I got home, I did't think I was going to make it. I was completely disoriented. It was like being really stoned, just nowhere as nice. Instead of feeling really nice, I felt like my face was caving in. Anyhow, I sort of felt like I wasted a Friday, but I know I'll have a fun time tonight. It's really hard to stay completely focused on a dream or goal. I'm practically programing myself in order to always have this dream in mind. I'm changing my mentality. I have to stay focused. It's imperative. Well, lots to do today. It's already 7:30 am. I'm burning daylight.

I have a lot to talk about. But I'll only say these two things, and I didn't write either. Having a "golden mean" between utter self denial and utter self-indulgence leads the harmony. And then this:

Although ya try to discredit
Ya still never edit
The needle, I'll thread it
Radically poetic
Standin' with the fury that they had in '66
And like E-Double I'm mad
Still knee-deep in the system's shit
Hoover, he was a body remover
I'll give ya a dose
But it'll never come close
To the rage built up inside of me
Fist in the air, in the land of hypocrisy

Movements come and movements go
Leaders speak, movements cease
When their heads are flown
'Cause all these punks
Got bullets in their heads
Departments of police, the judges, the feds
Networks at work, keepin' people calm
You know they went after King
When he spoke out on Vietnam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot

Wit' poetry, my mind I flex
Flip like Wilson, vocals never lackin' dat finesse
Whadda I got to, whadda I got to do to wake ya up
To shake ya up, to break the structure up
'Cause blood still flows in the gutter
I'm like takin' photos
Mad boy kicks open the shutter
Set the groove
Then stick and move like I was Cassius
Rep the stutter step
Then bomb a left upon the fascists
Yea, the several federal men
Who pulled schemes on the dream
And put it to an end

Ya better beware
Of retribution with mind war
20/20 visions and murals with metaphors

Networks at work, keepin' people calm
Ya know they murdered X
And tried to blame it on Islam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot
What was the price on his head

I think I heard a shot.
I think I heard a shot.
I think I heard a shot.
I think I heard a shot.

Wake UP!
Wake UP!
Wake UP!
Wake UP!

Wow, worst dream ever... Last night I had this horrific dream. Where does my mind come up with this stuff. Dreams make me think that there are definitely demonic presences. Honestly. I woke up and I thought my heart was going to explode. My chest hurt so badly because it was beating so hard. Seriously folks. It took me about ten minutes to calm myself down to the point where I was normal. I was paralyzed. You know, when you have a terrible dream, and you cannot move, no matter how hard you try. This dream was really fucked up. And I felt a lot of badness in the room when I awoke. So I didn't move. I was all sweaty. It was scary. After about an hour, I'm supposing because I didn't even look at the clock, I turned on the light in my room, and just layed in bed for two more hours. There was something really big running around on the roof, too. Maybe not that big, but I'd say racoon sized. I HATE bad dreams, I get them all the time. I just couldn't believe how fast my heart was racing. And the dream was really vivid. Nothing in the dream happened to me, but I was watching everything. And it was frightening. Very fucked up. The thing I remember the most was when the girl jumped into the car (she was stealing it...I just thought of that) the keys had a little rubber skull key chain. Weird, why was that in my dream, why so much detail. This is the dream: (This begining part is in first person) I walk down the street and come acoss this building with odd, paper signs on the front window. It's a store, and I don't remember what the signs said. I go in, and the walls are mustard yellow, with an orange band following the wall. It's a vintage clothing store. Weird clothes everywhere. Not all vintage. Pocca-dot shorts. The clothes are hung in weird places. They aren't at eye level, there at waist level. I'm looking around the store. The resister in the the middle of the room. In the far left corner there is a section of vintage dolls and stuffed animals, like Rainbow Bright and Strawberry Shortcake and characters from Sesame Street. Interesting store. Then I'm in the watching perspective (omnipresent? ... I don't know), outside the store. It is night time now, and some bad shit is going on, and I don't remember what it was, just a really bad, evil feeling came over me. The store looked diserted and gross. I'm looking across the street from the store ,now. Whatever it is that is bad is there. It is this folding blob, not a blob exactly, but it's this substance that's melting together. It is pure evil, I can tell, I can just feel it. It talks, and I don't know what it says, but the idea is that someone is cursed, and it's going to kill them. Now I'm watching this girl, she's blonde and very pretty. She goes into her appartment. There's a guy in the other room, and she knows the guy, but it isn't him, he's possesed or something by this evel thing. But not just possessed, he's, I guess, dead, and this creature is using his body. He was the cursed one, and now he's going to kill this girl. She's cursed now. The guy makes some remark about how they are going to have sex or something. For some reason I was waiting for him to say this. He sounds very fake and awkward. Then I'm watching this man. He's with a friend, standing at the bottom of the stair. I watch from above. They talk, they're both possessed. I find out he's possesed at this point, because his friends starts rubbing the front of his neck, and it's like he's overcome by this feeling. His head goes back, and the front of his neck begins to look like a spine. His neck gets really long, and finally he tells his friend to knowck it of and whips his neck back into place. I think while I was watching this part I took on the roll of the blonde girl for just a moment. The next thing I see is this girl running. She's running as fast as she can because she found out about that guy. She's running through the grass at night, but she can't run fast because I'm dreaming, and I want her to run faster but she can't. She can only take these long strides. She finds out the guy is following her, and she's frantic. She runs past this cop, but he's cursed too, so he can't help her, he's going to die soon anyway. The man that's chasing her has lost all human form, and has become some sort of creature. The only way I can think to describe it is Werewolf, but it isn't one, It's a really fucked up wolf. it's hidious and discusting. It's face is long and full of teeth. It's chasing this girl who's scared to death, she doesn't want to die. She reaches this car, it's a hatch-back old car. Like a short station wagon. It's tan both outside and in. The keys are in the ingition, they have a skull key chain, and she starts the car. She's frantic and clumbsy, but she manages to do everything alright. At this point, the cop she past is at the passenger window pounding on the door, but it's locked, he's screaming. He's going to die. She pulls out, and tries to drive away. The monster has caught up to her now, and is running beside the car. It's shreeking. It's screaming, and I can't even begin to describe what it sounds like, the worst noise I have ever heard in my life. She's trying to drive away as fast as she can, but once again, I'm dreaming so she can't drive very fast. I want her to drive fast so badly. This wolf thing is still chasing her, she rams it with the side of her car, and pulls down a different road. She was on Main St before. She turns right, and then left. She's going really slow, and I want to cry. When she turns left the wolf is there, and she hits him and runs him over. She tries to excellerate, but she can't. The wolf is holding onto the bottom of the car and she can't drive away. She's gonna die. Then I woke up.

Yeah. I got an A in my computer class! Go me.

Wow, what a crazy crazy CRAZY DAY! It's been great. It really has been. First of all, I just naturally woke up around 7:30 am, so I didn't have to wake up to my super annoying alarm clock. I mean, it's really annoying. I hate it, but I need it. I'm not a very good waker-upper. Ha, not a word. Then, I got to eat breakfast. And we had lactose free milk in the fridge! Yeay. I had corn flakes with my Don't Kill Megan milk, and a banana, I love bananas, and tea, I love tea. THEN! on my way to class, which I was about 20 minutes late to, I listened to this CD that a friend of mine made. He made it so that we could stay awake on our drive to North Carolina this summer. It's called the "Keep us Awake Mix". Ya, so I listened to that and it rocked my socks. I don't wear socks, but it rocked them anyway. The first track was Aenima, and I was all angry and screaming "fuck" a lot in my car, and the NEXT song was "Whip It", and I just died. I couldn't stop laughing about this song. Especially since it came after such an angry song. The rest of the CD was cool, too. There was some Rush and some Dead Kennedys and Sublime and The Who and Primus and um, oh, I don't remember. All good stuff. Except for this Beatles song. I like it, it just didn't fit. Anyhow, I went to my grama's today, and she talked a lot, and told me I could have an antique sewing machine! Sweat! It's really interesting. She also gave me ten dollars, And this crazy orange shirt. THEN I napped. And it was oh so warm and nice. Nothing beats a nice warm nap. I defy anyone who disagrees. It's the best. THEN! I went with my friend to my mom and dad's to eat chicken. And God knows I love chicken. And I saw my kitties Lenny and Carl. I love them so. They're both girls. What's in a name? THEN!!!! I went to class with my friend Emily, we carpool and laugh a lot. She has a painting class, and I have a ceramics class. We really didn't want to go. But we did. And my class was cancelled. Which is why I am in here, writing about nothing. I just like writing. It's cathartic. Um. Ya, I'm in this computer lab, and I didn't know if there was a class in here, so I asked this lady who was walking out. She said, "It's open lab..." Which meant nothing to me, because I'm dense like that. So I asked her if that meant I could mess around on the computer. And she said, "It's open lab..." So I guess that means I can. HOt DaMN! She was fugly anyway. Big teeth. Ya, I have to wait for Emily to get out of class. It's only 6. I have another hour to wait. OH well, today was too superb to be bad now. So I've narrowed it down. I'm either going to make movies or music. I know I have to make something. And those are the two things I want to make. Well, either or. Some lady just sneezed and it was gross. Sometimes I wish I could just turn my life into a big cinematic musical. I'd dance around and sing to and at people. They'd think I was crazy. And I suppose I am, but either way I win. Man! That would be great! I would dance and shit! What if people went along with it?! Amazing. It would be amazing. I think I'm gonna do that. It'll be funny and abnormal. The world needs more abnormal and weird anyway! That reminds me of a funny story. About two years ago, I used to hang out with these two chicks, and they were really cool. Anyhow, this one time we were at Target, and I was going through my platform shoes era. The parking lot had recently been repaved, but only partially. I stepped on a ledge of pavement while walking back to the car, and completely landed on my face. It was horrible, but hillarious. I was lying there, hurting a lot, and my two friends were laughing really hard because for some reason, they thought I had done it on purpose. Well, I hadn't, and I was all bloody on the hands and ew. So, after that, I would always fall in public a lot. People would flip out and ask me if I was alright. I would be pretending to cry, while my friends laughed histerically and tried to petend they were worried. It was good times. Really fuckin funny stuff. That reminds me, I used to be really concerned about laughing a lot when I was stoned, but I don't care anymore, and it's great. The other day Emily and I smoked and laughed a lot and it was so great. I haven't laughed like that in a long time, and i needed that. She cried. The best part is how my laugh is really stupid and sounds ridiculous. A friends of mine called my work place and ordered a sub yesterday. I said something really silly and stupid and she laughed at me. I could tell by her laugh that she had been smoking and that made me laugh a lot. This is a girl I have known my whole life, and her laugh gets really funny when she's high. Oh man, it's funny. I'm don't have much else to say. I'm happy. Yeah. Music is great. Ethos. It's true man, for real. I'm gonna go smoke...

I have flour all over me. In my face and hair and covering the lenses of my glasses. I love advertisments. Commercials. They make me laugh a lot. Like this one I just saw for a furnace, something about how you need to protect your family from the blistering cold. Because what kind of father would you be if you had an old furnace, or a furnace that's not up to par, and you make your children wear sweaters in the house. They children will tell their teachers that their house is cold, and the teachers will say, "Oh yes, little Bobby's parents have a bad furnace, so he freezes all day and all night, I think we should take up a collection of blankets, sweaters, coats and turtlenecks for poor, little Bobby. And maybe some earmuffs and mittens to keep his little appendages warm." And your fellow employees would say, "Why yes, Mr. *** doesn't have a warm house like we do. He's not as good as us... In fact, he sucks!" Then they'd laugh their businessman laughs with their chins pressed against their necks, their collars creating numerous wrinkles. White sparkling teeth. Starched shirts. Stripped ties. Choking them. Yeah, so, if you don't have a furnace you suck!!! Yeah advertisment. I love Oreos... I LOVE THEM SO MUCH! They're great. Not as great as being a musician though. Which is what I'm gonna be. Yep. I'm moving to California. Fuck everybody. I'm a selfish asshole.

I have been doing a good job of medicating myself lately. Yes, yes I have been. Lots of wine and other substances. I've been having to lower my standards however. Which has proved to not be a problem at all. Last night rocked. I had a great time with a few friends, and this really annoying guy named Steve. He was really fucking obnoxious, man. My friend and I decided that it was some divine plan that I'm a Sagittarius and that my name is Megan. It just so happened that his ex-girlfriend was a Sagittarius and that her name was Megan. So he left. For that reason. And it was awesome. Then I found my other friends. And I drank wine on the hammock with them. After that I was really tired so I went to sleep, but only for one hour. I woke up and after that I couldn't sleep. I really tried. This time. I just layed in bed from 2 am until 9 am. Then I decided to just go home and sleep in my own bed. That worked. I slept until 6 this evening. I ate pasta. I took a shower. I rode my bike. And now I'm here. Writing about stupid shit that doesn't matter. I think I'm going to move to New Zealand. Or join the Peace Corp. I would really like to get out of this town very soon. I'm getting really down about being here. I've been saying that for about three years now. I don't want to be a towny. I don't want to be known as someone who is connected to one particular place. Although this isn't neccesarily a bad or boring place, it has nothing more to offer me. There are very few people who I love and trust here. I'd say there are about twelve people here that I love, nine of which are family, and I would be fine leaving eight of them, those last four including my parents and grandmother and one friend. I would have a problem leaving those four, but I still could. I don't know. I'm going to make some tea from "Harrod's" (very good tea) I found in the freezer. And smoke. And smoke. And smoke. OH! And listen to music.

Wrote this a long time ago...

smells like burning skin
hold the match as long as you can
until it hurts
let it burn
until it scars
let it burn
until you bleed
let it burn

searing flesh
this once so hollowed body
this once so hollowed mind
a coincidence of fate
ironically placed
in my mind
my thoughts
my dreams
my world
of hope that comes when it pleases
and leaves every chance it gets
ungrateful visitor
fuck you

scathing skin
blistering bleeding, red
...It burns...
to black
let it bleed
destroying nerves
feeling no pain
melting skin
and I feel no pain
scarred
numb
tired and bleeding
bleeding
___________
forever scarred
and
I feel nothing...


Interesting. I burnt myself at work today, er, yesterday, so it's appropriate. Stupid fucking ovens. However, it is really neat to see your skin melted. Polished and scarred. I like scarres. You can't die without a few scars. I think there's a Fight Club reference in there. Fuck.

I've been snapping a lot lately. I'll be having some stupid, petty conversation with someone, usually my closer friends, and it will turn in to a small argument, disagreeing ideas, so I decide to just stop talking. They however chose to continue, and even if it's just their final two cents, I snap. I'll scream something, and they'll tell me I'm flippin out. And I don't know if that's true or not. I don't know where these emotions are coming from either. I just know I've been snapping. Um...I just read this, and it made me feel a lot better. Thanks Scout...

"meg,

ya know, mood rings are funny things. mine changes color out of no where. it didn't even explain what the colors meant on the package so i never know how i feel. i have to just feel what i feel instead of lookin at this handy ring that i have. i want to know what i feel without having to look deep into my soul. i'll make up my own code:


green w/ yellow outside will mean that i'm all hot and bothered about something. example: mr rogers comes on tv and starts changing his shoes. my ring turns green with yellow outside because i mean why would you change your shoes to go into your house. why wouldn't you just wear no shoes. i mean its your house mr rogers!! come on now.


yellow with pink outside will mean that my favorite simpsons episode is on. ya know the one where they turn into the thompsons and they move into the boat house and then sideshow bob follows them cause he wants bart dead and thats why they moved because bob wrote them letters in his own blood. then the rakes. and the brownie and the chain saw. thats good stuff. too bad it hasn't turned yellow with pink outside yet. i miss sideshow bob. maybe someday


all black will mean that i just got out of the shower cause thats what it looks like when i get out of the shower. thats ring sure is smart.


blue with light blue outside will mean that i am hungry. simple as that


uh oh, better go, its turning blue with light blue outside. i must follow the ring. its the master of me. why did i just write that i think its taking over my brain. mood rings are good must buy more mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings

love scout"


Scout wrote that to me about two years ago. I miss her. Well, I've run out of things to say again. I think I'm going to go turn off my brain now. There's a bottle of wine with my name on it.

4:55 am.

Tomorrow is a Saturday. So, I'm reading a lot of things I wrote two years ago, in my old blog, and it's so strange. I remember everything I wrote about, every topic, but I don't really remember the emotions that went along with those words. I just feel so nostalgic about those times. I almost miss them. I feel like I have nothing now. No controversy, no beginnings. Maybe it's because I was just such an absolute dreamer then, that I felt I could do or be anything. Now, reality has taken its toll and I won't ever feel that life is suspenseful. I don't know. Maybe I've just been the same to long. Things need to change and so do I. I should shave my head and just leave everything behind. But I can't really do that now. The resentment I had towards my parents it gone. They have become vulnerable people. If I left them now or soon I would always feel the guilt of that decision waying on my shoulders. Yeah, this makes me really miserable. I hate it here. I need some sort of release. I need to be pacified.

5:04 am.

my bones are tired
i hear their creeks and moans.
my heart is so heavy.
that’s so much weight to carry.
these poor, old, brittle bones.

It's funny how depression is a crutch. When all else fails me, or I fail everything else, I find myself seeking comfort in my sadness. It's such an easy place to run to and find. We have quite a history.

5:49 am.

So, I just woke up. Accidentally. It turned out that I had to pee really bad, and my body didn't let me know until it was almost too late. In my scrammble to get downstairs to the bathroom I almost killed my cat. I threw the covers off and sat on them, before I stood up. Dazed, confused and having to pee really bad, I felt this warm, sqirming thing underneath me trying to wriggle away from possible death. "Cat," I thought, and proceeded to let it live. After that interesting ordeal, I decided to just stay awake, seeing as I have class in a few hours anyway. I made toast, (Yeah, toast! [that's exitment, not reiteration]) and got a huge glass of water. I had to use margarin on my toast, which pissed me off. Not only that, but the container said "spread", not margarin, simply "spread" in very small letters at the top. Nowhere else did it mention what it was...WHAT THE HELL! Just tell me what the mother fuckin stuff is! What are you trying to hide Country Crock!!! And that's why I don't like to eat anything but butter, and butter tastes better anyway. Anyhow, I take a huge chug of this water I've prepared myself, and it instantly goes down the wrong pipe. (It's really funny, now, that I'm creating a mental image of what I looked like doing this.) Yeah, I spit water everywhere. It was one of those choking instances where the moment you swallow, your throat says, "No thanks," and you immediately explode with whatever it is your trying to ingest. All this, however, came after my tornado dream. Ah, tornado dreams. If I had recorded everyone I've ever had, there would probably be an Encyclopedia Botanica (?) portion of books on my wall. So, yeah, the entire dream was about tornados, and of course, me trying to flee from them. There was one point in the dream, however, that makes me laugh. I was in my room/hole in the wall trying to kill all these rats and mice that were coming out of the walls. This is funny to me because I lie in bed, probably every night, listening to these animals in my walls. I'm pretty sure they're squirrels (nice ones according to my friend), but, nonetheless, animals, and they are extremely loud. There preparing for something, I know it, whether it's for winter or not they have something in mind. Maybe they're making some dooms day device, or a device used to take over my body in order to take over the world. I must say, if so, they didn't pick a very good one. I won't get them far, but I'm sure there will be others...
So, in my tornado dream I found out that I had this forgetten brother named Lexis, like the car... I called my house to make sure my mom was alright, and a boy answers the phone, I say, "Mac." and he says, "No, this is Lexis, your other other younger brother, the youngest," or somthing to that extent. Anyhow, it was weird. I forgot I had a younger brother, and thought, "I should go visit home more, and see how my family is. I should get to know this person named Lexis that I don't know or remember, but feel this sisterly bond towards. Weird. Anyhow, there were tornados all fuckin day long. They are always so vivid. At one point I was driving down this road, and I know exactly where I got the imagery from. It was a Colorado landscape, the tundra, which I hiked this summer. Tricky brain, I saw right through that one. This is a stupid post, but I have nothing better to do. Now that I've said that I'm out of ideas. wildcats...psshhhhooo...I'm gonna go...
(That's from a movie, by the way, I'm not that crazy)

6:17 am.

?:?? am.


Tomorrow is a Saturday. I'm thinking too much these days. Thoughts are always healthy, but I feel as though my brain is working overtime. Which is not healthy. It's creating an accute case of insomnia. I suppose I can sleep whenever I want, however, there is too much to sort through in my mind. I feel like a computer analyzing information; I'm like a really really slow computer, and someone is trying to download tons of information way too fast. Let's hope my system doesn't crash. Also, I've been sleeping in four hour intervals. It's making one day seem like five. Twelve hours ago seems like a year ago. Fifteen minutes seems like yesterday, and so on and so forth. I think I'm going to have to find a new place to live soon. People are weird about money, even though I practically not spending any of theirs. I don't eat there food, I hardly shower, here at least, and I don't use any of their products. So, you would think that would be alright. I did however tell them that I would pay $100 a month, which, for good reasons, I don't have. Ah well, we'll see what happens. I can live with it.

6:30 am.

4:04 pm.

Tomorrow is a Thursday. I work on Thursdays, so I hate them. It's sort of like the beginning of my week. I work Thursday until Sunday. Three days off. It's nice sometimes. It would be even nicer if I made some more money. Thirty hours a week, and only about $150. I love it. Well, I'm going to go shop at the thrift store, have a cup of coffee, and sleep. Later.

4:09 pm.

4:15 am.

Tomorrow is a Saturday. I'm really exhausted. I just drank about 12 cups of coffee at Big Boy. Wow. What a night. It's funny when I think that working eight hours will exhaust me, and then I stay up for another 5 hours. I can hardly type. Damn. Well, I think I have finally reached that point of exhaustion where theres no alternative but sleep. Hope I can sleep, considering the amount of caffeen in my system at the moment. That's not the correct way to spell caffeine, caffiene...whatever, I can't think enough to care. Oh well, I wish I would get more e-mail from preticular people, but oh well again. Goodnight everyone.

4:19 am.

2:58 pm.

Tomorrow is a Thursday. I'm really lonely. I hate it when friends are out of town. I don't feel like making myself do anything. And I won't. I have to go to work in two hours. Maybe I can keep myself occupied.

3:00 pm.

2:54 am.

Tomorrow is a Saturday. Right now I have this crippling fear of being nothing. It isn't even a fear of being nothing. It's also a fear of settling for less and being disapointed. Which I already am. I am so impatient right now. Things are moving so slowly and unproductivly. I want to be past all of this "transitioning" and move onto what really matters. I can only see myself being something great, not mediocre. I have never felt that way about myself. But I feel that if I am to settle for less then I might as well die now, because that disapointment would end my joy anyway. I want music. It feels so out of my reach. I don't know how to pursue it. So how can I perfect it? How can I excel then? I'm so tired. I'm trying to realize the contentment recieved from just knowing I have food to eat and clothes to wear, but it's still not enough. I want it all. I want completion and fulfillment. I don't mind being a seeker, as long as I know what I'm seeking. I don't even know that yet. So far behind. I think of all the people who have influenced my life, in good ways or bad. I wish I could tell them all. I wish I could say, "You, you ruined my life," or "You opened my eyes." If only. Maybe I will be able to some day.

3:03 am.

12:27 am.

Tomorrow is a Friday. But it's funny that I write that because the days don't really matter or mean anything anymore. They don't really affect me. I can never remember what context to put that word in. Oh well. Stupid English language. I'm starting to hate the night. We used to get along so well, but now it's such a solitary part of the day. (as in the 24 hour period of time) Maybe I just need to be a little more creative in deciding what to do, seeing as I can't sleep very well anymore. And to think, sleep used to be my haven. It was the only thing that could make me numb and thoughtless. And I could always depend on my dreams being interesting, even the frightening ones. For instance, the one I had were I was in a black room, lying down on a large couch, and watching the scribbles on a TV. There was someone in the background stabbing an anonymous person to death. They stopped the slaughter and leaned over the back of the couch. I looked up. "Now, it's your turn," they said staring down at me, and proceeded to drop the knife. It fell, penetrating my neck. I could feel its pressure and the fear in my mind and the sweat and the tears running down the sides of my face. "I'm going to die no matter what I do," I thought. "I could pull the knife out of my throat and bleed to death, or I could just lie here with it sticking in my neck. Either way I die." And I awoke. I could feel the pressure in my throat and the sweat dripping from my skin. I've never been so scared in my life. It was so vivid and real. "Fall back asleep," I thought to myself. The words echoed in the darkness of the room. "Fall back asleep..."

12:51 am.

11:05 pm.

Much older now
Future memories to never take place
Standing naked in the rain
Bud and hope to bloom
But never shall this bud nor blossum
Or rise, to say

Warm bed
No sleep and no truth
Lucid dreams I have
False dreams
Euphoric, however
Old feelings
Revisited
Renewed
And so forth
Time stops
And never shall I be given the chance

Only to see and think forever

11:12 pm.