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.