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Feeling: Calm. Loving my life. |
Eating: Um... life?
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: 2003-08-31 - @ 9:47 a.m.
Why I don't let Ariel near my pets. (I love her anyways) all time - is relative
So yeah... I'm am still deciding whether or not to kill this now, simple bullet through the temple, and just never write in this again, but truth be told, writing is an addicition of mine. So no, nothing that painless as of now.
Andy's gone. I don't know if I am taking it extremely well, or just blocking out my feelings yet again, as I am wont to do. My bet is on the latter. It scares me the amount that I dissasociate from things to the point of not even being able to remeber anything that happened involving the conflict. Just a huge, psychologically screwed-over, gaping hole in my normally impeccable (I fucking hate the word impeccable. It just seems that if you say impeccable, you have a stick up your ass, pierod.) memory.
So about a month ago, I went to the pet store with ariel in search of something cute and fuzzy that I could redirect my love (that used to be directed at andy) at something that wouldn't go join the army. I found the cutest hamster ever: teddy bear hamster, teeny ball of fluff that just walked up to the glass and pawed at it, looking at me. *Sound of girly "Awww..." emits from everyone present* "I think she likes you," says the 12 year old clerk with a serious potty mouth. She takes him out and I get to hold her. She just curls up in my hand and snuggles up against my chest. I was sold. Right there, I dropped about 80 bucks on bedding, food, treats, the actual hamster, and the most kickass hamster cage ever. So the lady takes out my hamster, who looks expectantly at me, ready to go home with her new owner, and puts her in the little carrying box. As I am writing the check, I give the box containing my salvation from depression to Ariel to hold. She opens the box, trying to calm my hamster down, and turns it sideways so she can see her. My hamster promptly falls out, 5 feet, 7 inches to the tile ground, barely landing in (a most likely life-saving) blue bin containing pig ears. Everything is silent. I bend down to pick up my hamster, who is on her back, I put her back in the box, refused to give it back to Ariel, and finished paying for my (now damaged) hamster, get in my car, and drive home. From then on, I had a changed hamster. Gone was the cuddly, sweet little fluff ball that liked me. Here was a viscious neurotic member of the flying squirrel family that would throw itself against the walls of the (freaking expensive) cage while making a noise that before had been only documented coming out of a rabid parrot that was being castrated. She still won't let me touch her.
So you guys might have heard something about that lady that was killed by a shark not too long ago, right? I knew her, she went to my church. Talk about bizzare...
Quote for the Entry: "I never really stopped caring about you, I just stopped thinking about it." -me
We had a good conversation last night.
all time - is relative