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: 2003-04-10 - @ 9:20 p.m.
My subconcious disturbs me.

all time - is relative

What do you expect me to say? Do you want me to explain everything that ever went on between us? All of the name-calling, all of the drama? Or would you rather I declared how much I still think about you? And admit it, I drive you insane as well.

Whew... Sorry for the lack of entry last night. I didn't get home until about 9:30 from performances at Morro Bay and San Luis, and then I talked to Andy. I think it is a full moon or something, because I was super sensitive to everything yesterday and today. I nearly punched this chick in the nose, simply for being a bitch. that or I'm tettering on the edge of sanity, tempting fate each day I step outside my room, growing closer and closer to the inevitable day when I willingly hurl myself into the depths of madness, resulting in a killing spree of hundreds. Probably I'm just PMSing though. But the whole killing spree thing did sound fun tough, didn't it?

On my bus ride to school in the mornings, we pass by this billboard on the side of the road advertising for an apparently rather cheap and tawdry "Senior Assisted Living Quaters," and for some reason, it amuses me. There is a picture of two grown women, probably in their 30's with their elderly father, their arms around his neck in a forced embrace, plastic, condescending smiles on thier faces. It's almost like they are saying, "Yay! We are submitting our father, who provided for us for most of his adult life, to a life of monotony, boredom, and loneliness, where his high point of his day will be when they wheel him out of his room for 30 minutes in the activity room, where he watches other seniors play gin rummy, because his hands are too arthitic to hold the cards without spilling them. He'll soon forget the feeling of sunshine, and in a little bit, he won't miss being touched, because this is the last hug he'll ever recieve, the last touch any person will lay on him, until we lean over his cold, dead body in the casket and lay a kiss on his cheek in rememberance, and regret of what we should have done."

Quote for the Entry: "Women's skin, it makes them head to toes cashmere." -100 girls

Great movie, funny as hell.

all time - is relative

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