I love mankind; it's people I can't stand.

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Feeling: Calm. Loving my life.
Eating: Um... life?
Drinking:Dasani water
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.

Listening to:
*Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with:
Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.

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Today is: 2002-07-26 - @ 4:50 p.m.
Still kickin

all time - is relative
Hey, y'all. No, I'm not dead, just grounded. Yeah, I guilted Craig into getting an entry on for me becuase I didn't think I would be able to make it on the internet for awhile. It was the least he could do after breaking my heart. Please ignore his atrocious spelling and punctuation errors. I'm on the library's compu, so this isn't going to be long. I've changed. I've grown. I don't mean in a bad way. My family is heading to family conuseling in order to hopefully repair a bit of the major rift between my father and I. Wish me luck, and strength that I won't cry. I'll be fine though. I enjoy being single again. 'Course, now that I'm single, there are no guys withing a 35 miles radius that are acceptable adn interested in me. Meh. That is the way life goes. I've discoverd that I disassociate myself whenever I am being yelled at. Not severly, not to the point of becoming dissosiative identity disorcer or something (sorry, psych-reference), but enough to keep me from being to affected at the time being. Then I just go and cry myself to sleep. I think that is what my crying jags are. I've talked about them before, where I just start crying from no apparent reason for sometimes the better part of two hours. I think it is just repressed hurt and angry and fear resurfacing. Like bubbles. Tiny, psychotic bubbles.

Quote for the Entry: "If you just keep stuffing that drawer or file cabinet in your head full of undealt-with emotions, somethings going to break. Ethier you, or the file cabinet, it is really your choice." -My minister/family conselour.

Actually, it is a pretty box covered in red ribbons, thank you very much

all time - is relative

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