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Today is April first and after the passing of the time in which to get something postmarked with todays date I will officially not be transferring to any good schools. Where will I go? To the school that for years I have put down and down and vowed to never ever even consider attending. Suddenly it is my only option. Logical. Practical. practical.
Not ideal. This is not any sort of idealistic situation. But it has everything I want. I only havenít checked out the philosophy department.
should be my double major. I can do things with that.
Iíve finally lost the friend I have been trying to free myself from for years. Itís certainly bittersweet. I feel hurt and guilty and sad and relieved and alone. In the moment I didnít think it was real and I also didnít think I cared either way. But in the end itís always been her whoís had my back the whole way through. Sheís never abandoned me because I get weird and moody before my period. She has stayed through all of my bouts of insanity. She cried when my dad died! That right there meant the world. The world.
Itís quite a life I lead: sleeping in all week; choosing to not shower; occasionally skipping deodorant; going to zoo without a job; staying up late; getting oversexed; going to the beach at night; having a girl bend over backwards for me; having an enabler mother; having a dog walker; spending entire days taking pictures with a camera that I own but could never have actually afforded on my own; having in my life the two most gorgeous Godsons Ever (it has been confirmed); having written a novel under my belt; and a 3.87 GPA able to transfer almost anywhere.
Itís funny, the things our memories block out. Our short term memory even, maybe mostly.
Today, or this morning, had a very emotional moment. It was mostly unexpected because I had conveniently forgotten that I had to go there. I later conveniently forgot to write this entry.
Two years and some odd months later I returned, for the first time, to the place that stole an irretrievable piece of my heart and life. I saw the cold room that once held a lifeless body of a man I knew, love and miss. Why did I choose to relive that moment?
Yeah, I was sincerely afraid that it would be forever. But I should have known. Nothing has ever come between us, never for forever. She never goes away. She will always call. Or something. Everything passes and we exist as if it never happened. We donít mention certain things. And then one day it disappears. Then years later weíll laugh about it. Because this is what we do. Probably for like 12 years now. With my forever people there is usually a perfect compilation of everything. We are what the other lacks. Some people will always be in your life.
I love both of my Godsons more than I love anybody else in this entire world. They are, by far, my number ones. The things I would do for them are limitless. Helping them through college is a definite. But there is just so much more. Iím gonna start integrating the new and old one, let them get acquainted and used to each other and then when the older one is better and the younger one is a little older Iím gonna start taking them places. Fun places. Iím excited for carnivals, to ride on the kiddie caterpillar roller coasters.
I have been playing some really gay online game for a while now. Recently I analyzed all of my statistics and they should really come as no surprise. First, to be exact, I started playing on the two year anniversary. (Why did I almost write third?) And then I noticed that my activity increases around the 28th of every month, specifically February. Go freakin figure. The game has become addictive and I can only imagine why. I can actually imagine my dad playing this gay little game. Maybe heís over my shoulder playing my games with me. Who knows anymore.
Weíre about to have a black president and I sit listening to the news tell me that there is about to be a blind governor and on top of that, he is
the fourth African American to lead a state. I am sincerely
racist. But I
aware, and observant. And it strikes me odd that there is no mention of Obamaís nationality and background. But all in the same country we make mention of a
governor and have to add that he is in fact African American. Look at this president Bush. A dumbass white guy.
Iím doing it again. Letting the days pass without feeling. Waiting for hours to count themselves down. Wanting night to come so I can fall asleep and wake up again and do it all over again. Do what? Do nothing. Thatís why these headaches arenít worrying me. Iím wasting myself away. Hoping a job will find me. Sometimes life is futile for me. Itís just watching the days overtake the next. Looking forward to the future but nothing in particular. Anticipating tomorrow and another empty day. I think we should all be grateful I had a job on my birthday.
Iím picking my brother up at the airport tomorrow and Iím hearing the news tell me how the airport took many planes out of use and many more are still unfit to fly. How can anyone say something like that? How can they let out planes that they know are unsafe? If a plane fails the odds are not in your favor. This contraption is making you soar through the sky ridiculously high above the ground. A helmet isnít going to help you.
Iím gonna write it here because I want it to be true. It needs to really happen. The situation, Iím sure, is quickly approaching a really bad irreversible point. I donít want it to end up being too late. And plus, I know that it will so very greatly improve my riding. I canít even begin to fathom the drastic difference it could make. I would simply be unstoppable. The world would once again be in the palm of my hand. Mine for the taking. Doing the impossibles. Not knowing the meaning of impossible. It could all be incredibly fantastic.
I feel bad that I had to let my mom learn on her own how important a carís oil change is. We both may have chosen to believe that our previous Pontiac was invincible, much like my father, her husband. But I always knew it was him keeping that car alive. He got the oil changed religiously. And I too already know the importance of oil. Iíve ruined at least two cars this way. Iíve damaged a couple others. But when a mechanic says heís never before seen exploded pistons like that you know itís time for better upkeep habits.
So, Mr. is the abbreviation for mister.
A man is always a Mr./mister.
When a woman is single she is a miss. Maybe a misses or even missus? But I think missis and missus also mean a wife.
So, then we have Mrs. When a man marries a woman she because a Mrs. Apparently
Mrs. Itís quite derogatory really. There is no other way to take it than as the woman being his property. I think that he is the subject and she is the object, correct?
How or why is this considered such a sacred
Iíve gotten caught up in this incredibly gay little computer game and I am forgetting all the other things I used to do on the internet. How was I ever addicted to this silly in-ter-net? Online crossword puzzles couldnít have been enough to hold me all day. There had to be more. Was it the infinite well of knowledge I could so easily find? It is still there but I have no intention of going looking for it. Overall, what it ultimately comes down to is that I blame this gay game for the sudden halt in my 100 words.
How freaking crazy to sit here randomly thinking about that lady and then feel that I would really love to read a book about that. Then I remember,
It exists and I can read it if I want. Itís existence is contingent on me and I can alter it however I choose. This is mine. She is mine. In the story anyways. It may have been years since Iíve seen them, but they are still around, written in recarve-able and revisit-able stone. They exist in my mind and that is more real than any other reality.
I truly appreciate my people when they come through in the end. Iíve never had a lot of people but Iíve always had people of good quality. Well, to some extent with some exceptions. People canít help who they truly are, but that doesnít mean they love you any less. It doesnít mean they wouldnít still risk their life to try and save yours. Iím a good person with pure intentions and I mostly only ask for the same. There is never perfection. But as long as my people try then I can be happy. I shouldnít always doubt everyone.
It is with great shame that I missed last months quota of 100 words. I didnít even come close. I quit somewhere near the middle and regretted it. In April I kept up with it day after day until about the middle of the month. Then I went back to my old ways of always trying to think of something to write, sometimes even thinking up something to write, but never actually writing it down. Words are easily lost. Ideas go more often than they come. But at least I was able to gain a very small stock from march.
I get excited at the beginning of each month because I hold the hope that maybe this will be the month where I finally once again keep up with writing every single fucking day. March was ultimately a monumental flop. I must admit that I felt a ton of relief when I decided to say fuck it for the month and stopped thinking about it. But the relief was ultimately weighed down with the anxiety of
writing. Itís so easy to lose words. Especially the ones that come too easily, seemingly. Though never in life is anything truly easy.
Saw him for two minutes. It was hard. Try to remind myself that he had a final surgery on my birthday. Was pieced back together, becoming once again whole, on my birthday. I am amazed by the strength of others, like him and my father, and disheartened by my own lack of courage. Today makes three months. I wonder if they are aware? This is merely the third time I have seen him. Of that I am sure they know. I am painfully aware. There is nothing to say. Heís a perfect Godson and Iím the imperfect Godmother.
Kierkegaard. What a decent guy. His philosophy on human existence is spellbinding. I was enraptured and enamored. I hate iteration, but sometimes my mind only works that way. Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is my next obstacle to overcome. Heís by far the most complicated German philosopher. I almost hate him for it. It took me too long to figure out his synthetic a priori judgments. And while I pretend to understand it, I still don't see how it is possible. Did he even deem it feasible? I don't remember. John Locke was an idiot. Aristotle wasnít so great.
Reason alone should be enough to get one through life. What you know without a doubt to be true is supposedly really true. Descartes has yet to let me down. He is the only one I trust and believe. He quickly stepped up to fill a void in my life. I thank him and God for that. He put meaning where there was previously no meaning. I hadn't even known I lacked in that fashion. He makes things real and true for me. My ever knowing source of wisdom and truth. Your own mind is the only sure thing.
I am so cheating right at this moment in order to take advantage of this free day and get these last final two entries done before itís over. I was so upset allll day because I thought for sure that I missed it. Even now as I type this Iím thinking that itís too damn good to be true and Iím gonna go try to post this and itíll tell me there has been some sort of error. Everything in life ends with an error. Work ends with errors. Chute error. Empty pocket error. I like running machines. The end.
When I saw all of the missing days I was hit with a hard pang of anxiety. Maybe it would be best if I skipped next month. I clearly can no longer do this everyday or even close to it. My free time is best spent with my girlfriend and that is where I spend nearly all of it. And I donít mind. Itís odd the way I donít require alone time after being with her. Normally for every one hour spent with people I need two hours alone to recoup. Itís different with her. Everything is infinitely undeniably different.
Aah!! Another stint of no writing without a real good reason. Shit. I would blame it on the new job but I was slacking before then. Now I just have more time to think about writing. I read somewhere that Pisces tend to have bursts of creativity when in or around water or something like that. Ever since then Iíve realized how painfully true it is. When I am dry I got nothing. But let me wash my face or take a bath and Iíve got a million and one things to write and a hundred ways to say it.
A Friday hasnít felt this good sinceÖ well, since my last normal full time job eons ago. Thereís an untouchable feeling of accomplishment that comes only from having worked a long tiring 40 hour week at a physical manual labor job. Of course, this week was only 32 hours as I started Tuesday. Add the half hours for lunch and itís really 34 hours. Still an ideal job though because I can exchange it in three months for school. Perfect because three months has always been the unspoken cut off for full time jobs. Unspoken yet all known right along.
For the first time in my life I am able to read back on past things Iíve written and truly cringe in disgust at how depressed I was. Itís not disgust about poor writing. It is completely about the dark extent or my turmoil that I stewed in, alone, for so very long. And now that Iím far from alone and feeling that Iím pretty sure it will never return I want to throw away everything Iíve ever written. But I would never. Instead I will continue my plight to hide these words and many others. She shouldnít ever know.
I know that I have always thought that I was always right. I am the most logical and when Iím right I know that Iím just right. There is no way to convince me otherwise. This isnít to say that Iím not wrong sometimes. But I honestly know when Iím wrong and I promptly admit it. People should trust me. Iíve trusted myself in the past because I had my fathers all knowing knowledge behind me. Why would that change now that heís dead. Now itís even better with him feeding me answers in the background unheard by the rest.
I really donít mind my job at all and I hope that I can be patient enough to keep it. Itís so hard sometimes to force myself to go in in the morning. And at break time as I walk to my car I usually am considering just leaving. Getting in and going home, never looking back. I go home for a few minutes for lunch and I never consider not going back. Iíd regret it just like so many other mistakes in life. If I can just get past the misery of being hot and sweaty Iíll be fine.
I would like to state, for the record, that the only reason this entire month has not been dedicated to my amazing girlfriend is simply because I have not had the time to ever ever catch her greatness in the moment soon enough to capture the real beauty of all that our relationship encompasses. I fell for her with more than I ever have with anyone before and I fall more in love everyday. Three months later and weíre still getting deeper into the honeymoon stage with each passing moment. Our bodies exude love for each other. Itís really unreal.
Basically took a day out of work and it just may have had something to do with the fact that I have 100ís of words to catch up on. Honestly, this day is not usually the day before the final final day.
At least not with this many 100ís. I honestly havenít looked yet at how many I owe. I know that while it wonít be horrible it also will not at all be good. With good luck Iíll be able to recall the millions of snippets of 100 words Iíve started in my head on a daily basis.
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