It's your life, but you only get one...

Chords; shapes in air. Go press the dissonance, if you dare.

And I say dare, folks, because now's the time! Now is the time. The time to jump and sing and dance and twirl and love love love! Love everything! Love everyone! Love the sun, love the rain, love the good, and hate the bad if you wish, but love the truth that comes out of it. Hard times, they are a'comin', but hard times, they are always comin'. Now is the time to build up a fortress of passion and youth and magic. Now is the time to kiss and cuddle and run. Now is the time to shout and clap and smile! Now is the time to be! Build walls, and build them high! I've seen your heart, and it's captivating. Surround it with smiles and laughs and high-fives. Make walls so thick and soft that the next time your castle is attacked, your beautiful insides will barely bruise. Give someone the thumbs-up; add a stone to stronghold of another, and please, let me add a stone or two to yours.

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

This weekend really was great. Sunday the Mullen clan cooked giant veggie bags and grilled and made appetizers and ate in the blustery weather; it was amazing. I love.

Birmingham was wonderful. My friends are wonderful. My tire blew out as I was approaching Britni's house; thankfully it was not on the highway. The night was wonderful; I talked to Tyler a lot, which made me happy, because I adore him. We played Catch Phrase, which was most fun when it was only Thomas and me. We certainly drank a good bit. We sat by the lake. I visited with Grammar, who I love more now than ever. (That reminds me... I would really like a picture with her soon. Please?) The next morning I watched Pete and Pete, and you wouldn't expect a day to get better after that, but it most certainly did. I saw Marie Antoinette with Lance and Tyler. I had a delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of Britni and Mark. I did not spend as much time with Jennifer as I would have liked, but we shall make it up next weekend.

Bo is safe. Bo is healing. He came home Friday morning; apparently, Lindsey called and told me this, but I have only the vaguest recollection of our conversation, and I was still asleep (and likely still intoxicated, as I'd gone to bed at 6 and she called at 7). So I found this out Saturday night after I returned from the Tomlinson's, while talking to Matt. Bo had surgery today, and everything went well. Hurray!

I hope I will find more posts like this one day when I re-read all my old journal entries.

I hope you all know how happy I am just to be.

But if I take my heart's advice, I should assume it's still unsteady.

Today has been a great day, but I'm not posting about that now. I'm so so so angry, and when I'm angry I cry (which just makes me angrier), and apparently I blog. Now, as I write this, I also know that I'm tired and I've got PMS, so yes, I understand that one small event has merely tipped the scales.

Meagan is a selfish bitch. That is not PMS, that's just a fact I've come to accept, and I love her dearly anyway. I was sleeping in the living room, as I don't have a room here. Meagan came in and turned on the television. Me: Hey, I'm sleeping in here. Meagan: Well, go in another room. Me: There are five TV's in the house, including one in your room by your bed. Go watch one of those. Meagan: No.

I briefly contemplate just turning the tube off, but then Meagan probably would have hit me, and then I would had to hit her back, and I just didn't feel like fight Meagan at the moment... not because I didn't really want to hit her, because that would have made me feel better, but because it's been such a good day and I didn't want to ruin it.

I do go towards the kitchen, where Mom is working, and as I walk in she says "You can go lay down in the office, I'm not in there anymore." Me: "Really Mom? That's some bullshit. Meagan's being just plain rude, and you know that. If you were napping in the living room, and anyone did the same, you would expect them to ask if you minded, at the very least." Actually, that was the condensed version of the conversation, and Mom agreed I was right, and said go lay somewhere else. ?!#$%!#$%!#$%!#$!@% Why do they let her get away with such crap?

Now, my real question is, why am I still so upset about this? It seems so insignificant. I don't know why I'm still bawling 15 minutes later- not tearing up, but actively crying. I don't know! I know this isn't a big deal, I know I know I know I know. Why?

So of course, this leads to self-examination, which usually leads to more crying, but for different reasons, although if Mom or Meagan see me still upset they will both say something derogatory to me, which may cause me to explode.

Now, I posted a while back about my mother's love of another over me; I definitely feel that I am justified in that. However, I never really thought I was jealous of her attention to my sisters. I think maybe I do have some deep-seated jealousy issues, though. I think maybe this small situation was perceived as another slight to me, another choice, I suppose, made in favor of Meagan over me. I know that is over-analyzing, but I have stepped out of myself and tried to figure out why such a small incident would upset me so much, and I think that's it.

I have thought before about the attention paid to the girls over the course of the years, specifically high school, but I didn't think I was in subconscious competition with them now. I am still jealous of how active Mom was in basketball, and even the other sports to some extent, but how she was never excited about drama or annual staff or the things that were important to me. I could go on about this, but it's rather pointless... the thing is, I thought recognizing these things about myself and in turn accepting the jealousy instead of denying it would in turn make it go away. Well, it hasn't, and I'm not sure what to do to fix myself.

I do know that I will not be plagued by these issues for the rest of my life. I will not be in therapy at age 40 for this. EVERYONE has to take responsibility for their own actions at some point. I have friends who blame the world for everything. That won't be me. I will not continue to feel like I am owed something, and I will not carry this bitterness around me for the rest of my life.

I don't know how to make it go away. But I am trying.

...I am in repair...

It's not enough to smile, everybody can smile! So she twirled and twirled.

Wednesday night was a good night. Upon Lindsey's suggestion, the four Mullen children decided to become drunken piles of cheap wine and skewed memories. It was amazing. Graham, Meagan, and I had class/school/work at 8 in the morning, but we decided anyway. It was a bad decision. It was a decision I do not regret. I'm in love with my family. I am reminded of the old church reading about the body-- how the eye needs the hand and what not. I need my family. Every member is a piece. If you know one of them, you know some part. They are the puzzle pieces that make this picture colored me, and I am thankful for that. Someday soon I give you a sporadic list of words which may appear meaningless. This will be my stream of conscionness as I record every memory we dredged up Wednesday night. You will not get most of them. I will not care.

I am doing a very good job not thinking about Bo. I can't cry all the time.

I'm here in BIrimingham now; everyone else is in bed. I spent a good deal of time talking with Tyler tonight, and I am happy about that. I hope I know him a good long time. We spent sometime by the lake tonight... I love the water... I am a Cancer through and through.

The drive down here was nice... it was rainy, yes, but not to the point of nervousness. It was nice. I listened to Details by Frou Frou. It's amazing.

DInner with my family at Applebe's was spiritual. Now it's time to guzzle some tap water. I'm goig to bed.

You always said never lay the hammer on the top of the ladder; it'll hit you on the head.

Bo is missing. How is my lame deformed cat missing? Good question.

He and Dad have hung out today, both being invalids at the moment. I called Mom a bit ago to make sure Lindsey was home safely and to check the status of the patients, and she said Bo was missing. Apparently Dad took him outside for a little bit, and I guess he must have gone inside for something or who knows, and when he came back, the cat was gone. WTF? The cat has been totally imobile since Saturday. I don't know... apparently the whole family is a little in shock... I know as soon as I get home, I'm going to look for him, but I don't know why... I highly doubt I know that house and yard any better than the other five members of my family.

In happier news, all six of us will be at home tonight. That is the nicest thing that's happened in a very long time. I think we'll all be sleeping in different rooms, though, which is just plain odd. I honestly don't think that has EVER occured. No exaggeration. I cannot remember a time when all of us were home but all in different rooms, nor can I think of any occasion where that would have happened. Strange.

I'm high enough from all the waiting...

I'm gonna be straight with you... I think I've had to much wine tonight. It was not intentional.

Bo is not to good. I called Britni and bawled to her for a bit, then Matt called me (which made me feel VERY special) and I talked to him for a bit, too. I called Lindsey and told her; I hope that was the right decision. The thing is, there's nothing she can do about it in Tuscaloosa, and I know that, and she knows that. But I remember when I lived in Birmingham, I would rather know what was going on as well as the rest of the family, even if I wasn't there. Matt re-affirmed those thoughts, and Lindsey, I hope calling you was okay. If it wasn't, I'm sorry... I'm sorry anyway... I didn't want to mess up your night.

I'm not going to give you details now, but suffice it to say that Bo needs upwards of $2,000 in order to be okay, and that's quite a chunk of change... a chunk we don't have. He could potentially be alright with an $800 surgery, but it's unlikely that the one surgery will be enough. Maybe next week I'll be updating about how we came up with the money and he's in recovery, or how we did the one surgery and it turns out he's just fine... maybe.

Classes were fun today... Chaucer was funny because we got into religion, and it amuses me to see people so passionately defend something I can't even begin to see as an entirely truthful document.... oh, people. Oh, well.

Philosophy was kinda interesting, though I spent most of the time thinking instead of paying attention. Gender Communications was interesting, as always. We studied mixed-sex dyads, and whether it is realistic to have close friends of opposite sexes. The knee-jerk reaction is "yes," obviously, but we studied some of the societal pressures of these dyads to either form a relationship or break off, I found that most of the stereotypes were true of the relationships I hold with straight men... I think the exception, which we didn't study, is when the male friend (in my case) already has an established relationship with another friend. An example of this is found in When Harry Met Sally, which I have never seen, but which is also at the top of my movie list right now. Another interesting thing we studied: whether men confide more in other men or in women, and where women confide in other women or in men more often. So here's what the studies show: in the teenage years, males are equally likely to confide in other males as in females. As they reach adulthood, men are more likely (with app. 9 to 2 odds) to confide in women as oppose to women. Studies show the exact opposite is true for women; as teenagers, they are 9 to 2 odds more likely to confide in another female than to confide in a male, but as they reach full maturity they become equally likely to confide in other women or in men. Super intriguing and very accurate as I reflect back on my personal experiences and the experiences of my friends. Pretty spiffy.

I had like 12487 spelling erros, but I ran spell check. No more drink for Grace tonight! Someone please call me tomorrow... I am craving some love. I'm going to Birmingham Thursday. I will need cuddling, and lots of it. You have been warned.

It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds.

I took Bo to the vet this morning... they sedated him and have probably x-rayed him by now. I then came here to good ol' UNA, but my first class was cancelled because Dr. Minor is sick. I have a test Wednesday in there and in Philosophy... yay. I've got Chaucer in about 20 minutes; hurray for the Canterbury tales! I really enjoy all my classes this term. I'm still sick of school.

Graham and I talked for a good while last night, and it was great. We talked about Harry Potter, and discussed the two characters Rowling is gonna kill off in the next book. Thoughts on that? We decided Hermione is pretty safe. I think Rowling may have been slightly misleading when she said two people were going to die... that leads us all to assume some of our beloved characters are going to meet their end, but she never specified whether they would be good guys are bad guys. Not that I think she's beyond killing off anyone at this point, but I also think she enjoys the suspense. If it is one of the kids, I think Ron or Ginny are at the top of the list... and I will bawl. The deaths in her books are generally emotional, though, and those might have the most impact. Not only are readers going to feel their own loss, they will experience the loss felt by Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys... ugh, I hope she doesn't kill them.

I may have mentioned this already, but the apartment at Hensley Square will be ready on the 25th; they're putting in new carpet and painting the walls... it should be spiffy. I put down the deposit, I've transfered my utilities; Jessica and I still have one more bill to pay, then it's just me. I'm dreading not having a washer and dryer, because that's just a lot more convientent, and I'm not especially happy about the lack of dish washer, but I suppose I will survive. :)

I've been reading old journal entries over the weekend... it's fun and interesting... I'm also adding tags to all the entries, so I believe you can search your name and find every post in which you've been mentioned... well, not every post yet, I'm not even through 2004, but it's a long term goal. I'm tagging you even if you are just mentioned.

I suppose I should head to class now. Weee!

And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time.

Did you all get that? Are you sure? Let me repeat the title of this post, just in case you missed it:

And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time.

I'm still not sure if you recognize and appreciate the full impact of the statement; I'm not sure if I recognize and appreciate everything that short sentence encompasses, but it has certainly left its indentions.

There's a secret magic past world that you only notice when you're looking back at it.

All those evenings on the back deck of our first apartment
They meant everything, but the wind just carried them off,
And you can't go back now... just a passing moment gone...

And the tree was happy... but not really.

I took the boys to the library Thursday, and we read The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. I rarely make it through the book without crying a little. If you've never read it, I recommend you do so immediately. Unconditional love... what an amazing thing.

In other news, I'm staying on the Blvd. until the 25th of this month. My future apartment is getting new carpet and fresh paint... it should be very nice. Living at home has been really nice, actually... I love spending the time with my parents and sister and brother. Yes, I still feel tension every time Mom and Dad are in the same room together (even if it's just me that's tense), but generally things are good. Bo hurt himself today. He was so pitiful... I spent all afternoon with him. We think he's knocked his hips out of place again; last time they had to bind his back legs for several weeks, and then he was fine. He was just in a lot of pain, though... we took a nap before I came here to work. I hope he's feeling better.

Thursday night I subbed at the daycare a bit, then headed over to O'Brian's, which was trey fun. He was a wonderful host, and I got to meet his friend Brianna (who seemed very fun), and we talked to Noel and watched some Fight Club, and later T.J. and Jessica showed up. After that we did a little car swapping and whatnot, then headed over to shoot some pool at Sidepockets and watch the Middlemen perform (sans Brianna, who went home). They were great, of course. Pool was fun... Teej and I played several games, and though I lost most of them, I did a lot better than I usually do, and I was happy about that. I practiced with Mom and Graham at DP's last weekend, and Mom gave me some pointers. ;)

Last night Jessica and I got ice cream, which we ate down at the docks by McFarland... that was fun, albeit chilly. And there you have it, folks: the goings on of yours truly.

P.S. Read my next post. Yes, they are lyrics. Read them anyway, especially if you are named Jessica or O'Brian, or if you visited Bungalow 12.

Jesus is never mad at us if we live with him in our hearts.

I hate to break it to you, but he is, he most definitely is.


Hensley called today; they have an apartment open! How exciting is that?! I'm no longer in limbo! I talked to Jonathan today; I think that was good luck. :)

Friday night Meaghan and Jessica came over and we had some chocolate cake and pizza and it was a really nice night. It's been a really great weekend. Every morning I walk outside and think "Really? It's this pretty again?" And the rest of the day is just extra smiley because of that.

Joe and Melissa are supposed to be coming to visit like next weekend... so... probably not gonna happen, which means Joe owes us 20 bucks. Mwahahaha. Other things of interest... I walked two miles with Graham and the pups yesterday... that was fun. Bach is amazing. He has such a great personality... for those who didn't know, he's the latest addition to the Mullen clan; an adorable kitten who's been here for several months now. Aww.


You're the Hitler! We took a Sudanese refugee into our home!!!

This post was really meant for yesterday.

Nights like tonight leave me aching for the water. I want to undress completely and jump. I want to absorb the freezing liquid as it brushes my shivering limbs. I want to float on my back and embrace the cold. I want to savor my flesh above surface, where the wind can tickle and cut. I want to feel my skin tighten and my scalp prickle and my teeth chatter and my heart clench. I want to gently rock until I have control of everything that is mine: until the muscles relax and the breathing slows and the chattering subsides, and as my heart gradually decompresses. I want to experience a baptism of my own design. I want to step out of the water and be cleansed.

I want to wake up new.

I need this old train to break down.

I figure I've got a good theme going with the titles... Jack Johnson, marry me, please?

I went to a protest today... it was pretty sweet. The speakers were a lot more intelligent than I had excpected. I never had much interest in protests because I've never felt very strongly about any of the big issues that people are protesting. That's not to say that I don't think they're important... they are just not the battles I was meant to fight. Anyway, this did stir some emotion... the speakers (though not neccessarily the protesters) were well-spoken and brought up several good points... I guess I was expecting more one-sided propoganda and government bashing and Bush-hating, and that kinda stuff, though good to get out some frustration sometimes, seems counter-productive to me. Well, they didn't do that; they were fantastic. There's supposed to be a big march on this school in Georgia coming- apparently this is the college for American terrorists. I actually think it'd be quite an experience to join... anybody up for it? O'Brian?

In other news... hmm, not much. It's been a pretty good day. After Wilson Park I came here, to the Tomlinson's, and the boys have been good. William is very trying recently, though Harris and I seem to be getting a lot closer. It's nice. Umm... The Middlemen are playing locally a week from today, I believe... I know several of you have seen them with me... I dunno if I'm going, but assuming I am, is anyone else interested? Lemme know.

...I want to get off and go home again.

Once in a while, when it's good
It'll feel like it should,
And they're all still around,
And you're still safe and sound,
And you don't miss a thing,
'Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark...

...singing "stop this train,
I want to get off and go home again,
I can't take the speed it's moving in.
I know can't, but honestly, won't someone stop this train?"

Stop this train...

I really must start blogging more. I want to write so much, but I don't make time, then when I do update, I only want to get out what's on my mind at the moment. Grr. So much to remember. This journal will be fun to look back on one day, though. I will post things of significance that I can remember off the top of my head:

Thursday night we had fondu, and let me tell you, that was a hoot and a half. Participants included T.J., Graham, O'Brian, Jeff, Jessica, Chris, and myself, as well as a special guest appearance by one Jonathan Dunlap. We had cheese dip as the main meal with bread and meat and about eight different veggies; then we washed the pot and put together a chocolate dip for our strawberries, bananas, nectarines, graham crackers, and marshmellows. That was one of the best nights ever, I think.

Friday after class, Jessica, Jeff, and I headed to Birmingham, where we saw Britni, Lance, Thomas, Karen, Joe, Jennifer, and Mark, as well as assorted other loverly people like Jessica and Tyler. I hope I didn't leave anyone out. THAT was a top night, ladies and gents... I don't think I'll ever tire of Captain Dickhead... it's so much fun! We also watched some Dane Cook and ate some candy and smoked more cigarettes than I have smoked in a LONG time... Lance is such a bad influence... ;)

We had to leave early Saturday because Jessica had work at 12, but we did that, no problem, and I spent a good bit of the day packing. Sunday morning I awoke and moved a lot of the big furniture outside for Dad and Graham to pick up, which they did, and then another load Monday evening. We should be outa there by now, but we're not. Tomorrow, though, definitely. I hope something at Hensley Square opens up soon. I hate I hate I hate that when I leave here tonight, though, I can't go to Bungalow 12 and have a snack and watch a movie and go to sleep. I miss it already, and we haven't even turned in the keys.

I've been a bit of an emotional wreck these last couple weeks; turns out the last two weeks have been awful all around, from what I hear... no one seems to have had an easy time of it. This, too, shall pass, right? It must.

I slept at Jeff's Monday night and he fixed us breakfast in the morning before work, and I haven't felt so special in a long time. Last night I slept at my parents', and that was nice. It really was. I love my family so much. Mom was asleep when I got in, but she came in the office at like 4 this morning and was like "Who is that?!" and I mumbled a sleepy "me" and she gave me the biggest hug ever and I almost woke up enough to cry, but instead I drifted back to sleep. It's recently come to my attention that perhaps Shareese can understand how I feel about her better than anyone, because I think you go through the same sort of thing with your family... it's like... all the negative is there and it's awful and it hurts, but the positive is there too, and these people are wonderful and beautiful and loved (I may be way off, but I was thinking about you today, and I came to that conclusion). I guess we're so used to positive and negative canceling each other that it's hard to deal with their co-existance. I love my mom more than I can possibly express. When something goes wrong (outside of family stuff) she is the first person I want to call and I can still throw myself into her arms when I really desparately need a hug. I think all this good is what makes the bad so difficult to deal with... I don't think I can deal with all the bad that is inside of me because of her anymore, but if could somehow find out whether letting her know would help me (and her) or just ruin what good there is, it would make things more difficult.

Enough rambling about that... in other news, Morgan turned 13 a couple days ago. Uncle Wade's birthday was last month, too, as was Aunt Dana's. He's been gone for almost three years now, I guess. When Graham and Dad came over Monday, we talked for probably an hour out beside his loaded truck; we talked about Mom and family and school and work and apartments and death. He told us about getting the call for Grand-Bob, and getting the call for Uncle Wade. He told us about calling his siblings, and worst of all calling Grandmomma and telling her. I have ached and ached for my grandmother, but I never had the visual before. I hate that... he was at the house on York Circle, and he had to call her and tell her to come over, and she must have known something was wrong from the very beginning, but driving up and seeing the house with two fire trucks and police cars there, and Dad in the driveway...

Ugh.

Sorry to be depressing, but with September gone, he's on my mind a lot. It's of some comfort to me that, as I type this, my eyes keep welling up, as they do whenever I think about him to much. I think that's a good thing.. I will be very sad if a day comes and I stop missing him, though I imagine that day will come, when the wound will be so covered in new memories, good and bad, and he will be thought of in passing with a twinge of regret, but he will no longer be mourned. I suppose that isn't a bad thing.

In closing, my dad is my hero, I have amazing friends, and my life is perfect-- you can't tell by all the fingerprints covering the class, but once those are wiped away, the perfection will once again be obvious.

And also, I'm not proof-reading... :)

How to Watch Your Brother Die

A poem by Michael Lassell.

When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, "My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California."
Try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother's side,
"I'm his brother."
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
"I'm his lover. Thanks for coming."

Listen to the doctor with a steel face on.
Sing the necessary forms.
Tell the doctor you will take care of everything.
Wonder why doctors are so remote.

Watch the lover's eyes as they stare into
your brothers eyes as they stare into
space.
Wonder what they see there.

Remember the time he was jealous and
opened your eyebrow with a sharp stick.
Forgive him out loud
even if he can't
understand you.
Realize the scar will be all that's left of him.

Over coffee in the hospital cafeteria
say to the lover, "You're an extremely good-looking
young man."
Hear him say,
"I never thought I was good enough looking to
deserve your brother."

Watch the tears well up in his eyes. Say,
"I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to be
the lover of another man."
Hear him say,
"It's just like a wife, only the commitment is
deeper because the odds against you are so much
greater."
Say nothing, but
take his hand like a brother's.

Drive to Mexico for unproven drugs that might
help him live longer.
Explain what they are to the border guard.
Fill with rage when he informs you,
"You can't bring those across."
Begin to grow loud.
Feel the lover's hand on your arm
restraining you. See in the guard's eye
how much a man can hate another man.
Say to the lover, "How can you stand it?"
Hear him say, "You get used to it."
Think of one of your children getting used to
another man's hatred.

Call your wife on the telephone. Tell her,
"He hasn't much time.
I'll be home soon." Before you hang up say,
"How could anyone's commitment be deeper than
a husband and wife?" Hear her say.
"Please. I don't want to know all the details."

When he slips into an irrevocable coma,
hold his lover in your arms while he sobs,
no longer strong. Wonder how much longer
you will be able to be strong.
Feel how it feels to hold a man in your arms
whose arms are used to holding men.
Offer God anything to bring your brother back.
Know you have nothing God could possibly want.
Curse God, but do no
abandon Him.

Stare at the face of the funeral director
when he tells you he will not
embalm the body for fear of
contamination. Let him see in your eyes
how much a man can hate another man.

Stand beside a casket covered in flowers,
white flowers. Say,
"Thank you for coming," to each of several hundred men
who file past in tears, some of them
holding hands. Know your brother's life
was not what you imagined. Overhear two
mourners say, "I wonder who'll be next?" and
"I don't care anymore,
as long as it isn't you."

Arrange t o take an early flight home.
His lover will drive you to the airport.
When your flight is announced say,
awkwardly, "If I can do anything, please
let me know." Do not flinch when he says,
"Forgive yourself for not wanting to know him
after he told you. He did."
Stop and let it soak in. Say,
"He forgave me, or he knew himself?"
"Both," the lover will say, not knowing what else
to do. Hold him like a brother while he
kisses you on the cheek. Think that
you haven't been kissed by a man since your
father died. Think,
"This is no moment not to be strong."

Fly first class and drink Scotch. Stroke
your split eyebrow with a finger and
think of your brother alive. Smile
at the memory and think
how your children will feel in in your arms,
warm and friendly and without challenge.

Is there any more room for me in those jeans?

Cramps! Yay!

And class and work... I called about getting an apartment at Hensley square this morning. They're holding it for me until tomorrow so I can look at it. I guess I'll sign the lease then... the only thing I don't like is no dishwasher and no washer/dryer hook-ups. Uggggghhhhhhh. What makes it a BIG plus is how close it is to the Tomlinson's.

That reminds me (unfortunately) that I had a horrible nightmare last night about the boys. I was awful. I can't wait to see them this afternoon. They didn't die, as people usually do in my dreams. It would have been better that way, though.

I spent a great deal of time Monday watching Boy Meets World. It was so refreshing to watch some simply comedy. I love a lot of funny things, but this was so innocent and wonderful... no political commentary, G-rated sex jokes... fantastic. That night I also watched Fight Club for the first time- very good, though I think my expectations were a little high. Last night we watched Peter Pan. I LOVE that movie. That little boy is so beautiful. I had to go to bed before we finished it, though. Sad day.

Fondu Thursday! I'm very excited!

I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me

I'm going to be angsty and upset for another moment today.

I've been trying for quite some time now to reconcile myself with some of the anger and resentment issues I have with my mother. As I laid down for a nap a little bit ago, many of these things started surfacing once again, and in a half-asleep state I started imagining the arguement that will never actually happen where I finally get to tell her how much she hurt me.

In my head I'm just yelling all these things, and out of my mouth pops "Fuck you for loving her more than you love me."

That had never occured to me. Never. I never once put those words together. But I think that might be the root of my problems.

I think the tears are proof positiive.

Hey! Let's go out dancing! You want to go out to Montauk with me?

4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Turning my computer on. I have that effect on electronics. Too bad I don't have the same effect on women.
~Trevor James Joiner, esq.

I thought that was to funny not to share, T.J. The fact that it's totally false makes it even funnier. ;)

So... I haven't updated (really updated) in quite some time. I had a list of things I'd written down from my trip to Gulf Shores that I wanted to write about, but I can't find it now. I think I'll go for the bullets style update and hit some of the high points of the last couple weeks:

~ we had a big group over for burgers and portebellos and salad and other such goodies
~ I got stung by a jelly fish
~ I brought lots of butter home from the hotel room
~ Andrew disappeared
~ Jessica, Jeff, Chris, and I ate at O'Charley's (where we saw O'Brian) and then played Cranium
~ chocolate cake shots are the shit
~ Graham and I drove to Tuscaloosa to visit our beautiful sister Lindsey
~ We went caching (unsuccessfully) and I got to an old Bryce Hospital (it was horrible)
~ I had a random conversation with someone who texted me on accident~ I finally hung out with Niki at the fair
~ Jessica and I got into the fair free and had a fantastic time
~ I've been hit on or shouted at (in a good way) at least three times this week (NOT on the internet!)

So... I could type a paragraph about each of those things, and I might, but not now. Classes are good. I'm signing a lease on a one bedroom this week, probably in O'Brian's complex. This would be good for several reasons, including it's proximity to UNA and work. If I can get an apartment there, I will probably start walking to Rosario's, which will be fantastic for gas and, more importantly, health. I'm really happy about this.

Sometimes my mother makes me so angry I want to hit her in the face. I love her. I love her more than I can possibly express. I am thankful for her every day, and I would not trade her for anyone else. But she pisses me the fuck off. Graham came to hang out with Niki and me and I had asked him to grab some money because I was short and couldn't get an arm band, and apparently Mom got really pissy over this... what the fuck?!?? Do you have any idea how much money they/she has blown on my siblings (especially the girls, and DEFINITELY Meagan) in the last several years? I NEVER, and I mean NEVER ask them for money. I have picked up groceries and cigarettes and other things for their house and not asked to be paid back. I could go on, but I won't. I would hate for someone to pick today to check out my page and see what I'm about, only to discern that I'm some whiny teenager. I really don't complain about my parents very much. But damn... I really feel like I should not ever ever ever have to even hesitate to ask them for money, not for stuff I want, and certainly not for stuff I need. One of the reasons I feel I shouldn't have to is because I wouldn't take advantage of that (NOT that my siblings have... Meagan is ridiculously catered to, yes, but they never say no, so why not, on her part, ya know?) I have to stop typing now. I hate rants like these because I could go on forever for one, and for another I don't want to read things like this in a couple years. I want to remember the good stuff.

Anyway. Plans for this weekend? Birmingham Friday, then working and packing Saturday, then moving Sunday... wow. I will miss Bungalow 12 very much.

I've missed you, blog.

Promiscuous girl, wherever you are, I'm all alone, and it's you that I want.

That's all.




Just kidding; I have so much to tell you, but I'm very tired. Class was good. Work was good. I think I shall retire now. I love you.