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: 2003-04-18 - @ 9:46 a.m.
Hmm...let's see..33 for an combo manicure-pedicure plus 60 for the hair, times 6= no college education

all time - is relative
Sorry I didn't do an entry last night...I've been soo lazy lately: Last night I went to bed at, get this, 9 o'clock. And slept the whole night through! Got ten hours of sleep before my dad woke me up, thinking there was school today! Go sleep! Yay!

My cold is almost gone. Go wellness! Yay!

Whew, ok, I'm fine now. Don't worry, that little bit of cheerleader in me has now commited suicide after realizing that no football player would ever date her. Eh. Good riddance.

Riddance is a weird word. You never see it alone, it's always with good. What happened to, "Bad riddance,"? And what about, "a big bit,"? There's a little bit, why not a big bit? SO MANY QUESTIONS! WHERE IS GOD?!? I NEED TO KNOW, DAMMIT!

I really need to stop writing stream of consciousness. I start to scare myself.

Get this: I am now going to 2, count them, 2, proms. At this rate, I will have gone to 6 proms by the time I graduate. I'm going to have spent my college money on hair and manicures alone, not even counting dresses, or winter formal. Oh well. Foufy-poufy girly stuff! Whee!

Ok, maybe the cheerleader isn't completely dead yet. She will be soon though, after she realizes that I'M NOT WEARING ANY MAKEUP! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Diaries are so incredibly inadequatly equipped to attempt to capture a person's life. I don't think even a religously kept diary, marking down absolutely everything that happens during a day, can even do it. There are so many sub-concious beliefs, desires, and influence that affect us every day, we can never truly understand someone else. That kinda sucks.

Quote for the Entry: "Hey, you gu-OHMYGOD, I'M SO SORRY!" - Callie, after walking on Andy and me yesterday in Ryan's room.


all time - is relative

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