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: 2003-01-14 - @ 6:33 p.m.
A existentialist with a valley-girl accent. This you gotta see... (I've been reading too much Sartre and Camus.)

all time - is relative
Ben goes to school with Barbara. Ben see Barbara all day. Ben arrives home and calls Barbara and talks to her all night instead of talking to me, who does not see him all day.

I wrote that, that sat and stared at it for 5 minutes. And realized I really didn't care. It is his choice, and I am not going to pass judgement on it.

I have an idealized vision of people that is begining to crumble. I need to realize that they are unhappy, and they have no control over how I feel. And they don't.

The cover of a Special Edition Time today was "How Your Mind Can Heal Your Body." I was like, duh. Hello? Where have you been? Sheesh...

I just nearly ate an eyelash. Mine. I have so many of the friggin things, I swear. 3 or 4 rows. Long and dark. Nice, I know, but they are part of the reason for my eye condition. Goddamn double-edged swords....

Quote for the Entry: "As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself---so like a brother, really---I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate." -Albert Camus.

It's CAHM-oo. If you say CAY-muss, I will kill you.


all time - is relative

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