Our afternoon together in my bedroom seems an age away. Your smiles vanished my reticence. Your lips were rough until i kissed them into softness. Hesitation eroded, sensation was an opening bud in my chest. You stunned me. A new year burned into memory.

Friday, an agony of awkwardness. We're at dinner together, with company ignorant of our subtext. You, surprised when I grabbed your knee under the table. Hours later, the rotated equals in your brow. A punch in my gut when you call me, "baby".

What is this? Who are you? How can you do this to me, How can you break this frozen sea inside me?

I am terrified.

I want to run until my feet abrade blood into the road. I want to crush myself into insensibility. I want oblivion, I want nothing, I want you.

Apologies to Kafka for my inelegant theft

Note: This was noded on Sunday EST. Thank you.

Well tomorrow I start classes; so I am going to bed earlier than I normally would. I am starting my Physics class and French II tomorrow. I am actually genuinely excited about physics. Not so much about French…. See I got a C in French last semester, and I cannot get another one.

Found out in December that Grove City has decided not to accept me right yet. They are waiting till March to tell me their final decision. Results posted as soon as I find out. Check my home node around March 15th. *sighs*

I started a daylog about deadlines… never finished it. I am lazy so I am going to add it to this…

Deadline after deadline goes by,
	And yet I sit and idle…
More deadlines pass
	Why am I doing nothing?

Deadlines…  they don't except stray mail
	I am the Queen of late papers.
So why is it I let my future get ruined by deadlines
        Why am I too busy 
            doing other things 
               to take a moment 
                   to examine the deadlines?

Deadlines from the past
Days of regret
Have I learned my lesson…?
	The one hidden in the deadlines.

I have been looking at scholarships to sign up for, you know, to get money for school. And today is the deadline for a very major one that I should be applying to. Unfortunately I am not very good with stuff like this, I remember it… but I always forget what day it is, how close it is. I have done this all my life. I have forgotten days, and idled up to deadlines all my life.

So. The story of my life. I hope once I am back in school that I will be more motivated to do the things I need to get ready for school.

I am also sick. I don’t know what is wrong with me at this point, but I think I am going to call the doctor tomorrow, and see if she has anything open. I have stomach pains, and it hurts when I stand. I haven't been eating either.

In better news, I went to the eye doctor Friday and I don’t need stronger glasses! I was worried that my eyes would get worse the rest of my life. I am already up to -4.0. But, I am happy =)

I also updated my ekw theme today. Its prettier IMHO. Instead of a pale purple, the active links are blue. That’s nice actually.

I need to do some real nodes. I need to stop complaining. Thank you all for listening, I promise my next write up will not be a day log.

I just called emergency - 000 in Australia.

I have never done that before. It was scary and exciting. pity it was for such a small thing.

I was going to check my PO Box and walked past a rubbish bin that was happily on fire. As I stood and watched it, I realised that hardly anyone was bothering about it. The whole of lunchtime crowd just avoided it. I was shocked that no-one was bothering to call it in!

I called the number and reported it.

What a good little samaritan am I!




your eyes

your eyes

your eyes

your eyes are

your eyes are

your eyes are

your eyes are gorgeous

your eyes are gorgeous

your eyes are gorgeous

So are yours.

My main concern was the apple. The awkward looking fruity entity obviously had no significant function, thus prohibiting me from simply pushing a button and getting the proper response. It had long before occured to me the similarity it bore with a tennis ball, and I had been afraid that I had misinterpreted it's basic nature. Such are the breaks in this world, I gather.

Obviously, it would be a safer road to bite into it and risk dental resistence than to smash it with a racket and risk painting the walls with freshly maimed apple guts.

Looking back, I just wish the sinister clown had not been watching...
:::ring ring ring:::

Hey honey, did I wake you?

Ya, hi dad, what's up?

Well, I figured you'd be awake by 9:30, I thought I would call and put you up to date. First off, Uncle Roy will be in Shadyside today. He had a heart attack and will be having surgery. The other thing is...:::pause:::...your brother Kevin. His marine unit has been called. So he'll be leaving Wednesday..."

What a wonderful phone call to wake up to. And no one seems to understand where I am coming from today. I feel anti-social, and just want to be alone, but no one understands that. I don't usually act like this, but extenuating circumstances cause me to do so. I hope there are happier nodes for today.
The second Daria DVD I ordered showed up a few weeks ago. There are two bonus episodes from the last season on it, one of which I had never seen before. It's the last episode of the regular series, "Boxing Daria."

I watched it, and it kinda horrified me, because it all made perfect sense to me. There's a new fridge delivered to the Morgendorffer household, and the empty box jogs Daria and Quinn's collective memory to a fight Jake and Helen had when the girls were younger. It takes Daria a while to remember exactly what happened, and at one point she climbs in the box and says "Yes. This feels right."

She had a box just like it when she was a kid that she hid in during the fight, whereafter Jake left and spent the night in a hotel room. I'm not sure why, but I can't stop thinking about that episode.

I think my brain is punishing me for going to school. I can hear him up there yelling "Hey Fucko! What are you doing?! On Saturday morning we're either watching cartoons or sleeping off a hangover. What's this college shit?!"

I feel very out of place.
We called it 5 stars camping, we had an electric generator that can pump up 5000 watts, TV, sattalite dish that gave us 600 channels, Xbox, and a DVD player. We set up a huge guests tent, and 2 sleeping tents with 4 beds in each tent.

I camped in Neiyriah desert located in Saudi from Jan 7th to Jan 10th. Kuwait border was around 200 kilometers from our camp. The weather gets freezing at night, around 10c, and warm at day, around 30c. I had to buy my self wool socks from a gas station around 5 Kilometers from where we were camped using an ATV that can do 120 KPH, since I made the mistake of wearing sandals that day, a mistake that turned my toes blue and I could not feel my toes when the dry weather froze to 10c. I probably would have cut off my toes from ice bite if I did'nt warm them up that day.

We hunted some indiginous life forms, mainly desert rodents called jarboo, not to be found any where in the world except for the Arabian peninsula. We called them mini kangaroos because they hop around as their mean of transportation. Some people eat jarboo because jarboo diet consists of grass and bushes, and the religious authorities had classified their meat as halal. We used 1,500,000 candle power flash lights, so does the manufacturer claim, to blind the jaraboos we found at night because they are nocturnal, and slowly moved to where they were standing so they would not hear us coming. Out of the 8 we found, we only caught 1. We set it free after catching it. We used a GPS to go 10 kilometers in land so we would not get lost in our jarboo hunting.

My grandfather is still in the hospital, and any hope for recovery has become fleeting. Dementia has set in, and he believes that rather than being treated in a Maryland hospital, he is stuck in Buffalo, NY jail. “If they find a body,” he told my mother, “they might try to pin the murder on me.”

He attempted to pull out his IV and catheter, yesterday, and refused to have an MRI done even after he signed his consent. He keeps saying that he’ll go home just as soon as he finds his shoes and asks everyone for a dime so he can call his wife, my dead grandmother, who he’s sure is worried about him. Any hostility I had towards the man is now gone. At this stage, he is just a very frightened, very sick old man in a situation he does not understand. It is difficult to hold any of his past actions against him, when you consider the present.

Unfortunately, I have not been able to make it up to see him. My boss is away on a business trip, and I have a newsletter going to press, so I have to be here to take care of it. I’m certain this continues to sap whatever good karma I have left, as well as makes my grandfather’s friends think I’m a terrible person, but such is life.

My mom is taking her new position as next of kin for a man she doesn’t like (and isn’t related to) in stride, although her anger towards his children is starting to boil over. My mom rarely has a bad thing to say about anyone -- especially my hopelessly incompetent, selfish and stupid aunt and uncle.

When my dad died, my grandfather told both his surviving children, “The good one’s dead.” I thought that was a terrible thing to say, but now I’m starting to re-evaluate that opinion.

The only person in Buffalo my mother can get on the phone is my cousin Jennifer. My Aunt Linda and Uncle Johnny are unaccounted for -- Johnny won’t return my mom’s phone calls, and Linda lives with Jennifer but is apparently never at home when my mom tries to reach her. They seem relatively unconcerned about the fate of my grandfather, but are concerned about the presence of one John C., my grandfather’s only friend.

John was my dad’s carpool buddy many years ago, and after my dad’s death, he struck up a friendship with my grandfather. He seems like a good enough guy, and I think he’s genuinely concerned about my grandfather’s welfare. My aunt and uncle are convinced that he was behind a burglary two years ago that resulted in the loss of my grandfather’s prized coin collection, but I have never been convinced of John’s guilt. My grandfather keeps his entire life savings in envelopes scattered around the house -- if John really wanted to rob my grandfather, he would have taken those. I do suspect that he wants a cut of my grandfather’s estate, such as it is, for his efforts -- and to be honest, I don’t really want to begrudge the guy that. He has taken care of him. It’s more than I can say of myself, or my aunt and uncle can say of themselves. John was there for my grandfather, we weren’t.

My cousin passed a message from my aunt and uncle on to my mom stating that she’s to take away John’s keys to my grandfather’s house. It pisses me off enough that two people who are too cowardly to even speak to my mother directly are barking orders at her, but to think that they have the audacity to dishonor the one person who’s stood by my grandfather, when they themselves cut off contact. They, too, are concerned about my grandfather’s estate -- I’m sure that they’d be more than happy to liberate his house of a few of those envelopes of cash. The way I see it, they are the real thieves, intent on picking the corpse clean. But when it comes to the unsavory aspects of participating in deciding on his health care, they’re conspicuously silent. Bloody hypocrites.

The only other person besides John and my mother who I believed is owed anything of my grandfather’s estate is my cousin Mark. Mark is in the Army Airborne, and is unfortunately on combat training maneuvers in Canada. He’s the only cousin I have who has kept in regular contact with my grandfather -- visiting and writing letters. Although he and I have very little in common personally, I have an enormous amount of admiration and respect for him. His situation growing up was pretty awful -- he was abandoned by his parents at age six, and raised by his teenaged sister -- but he’s managed to put his life together. The Red Cross is trying to get him some leave so he can come and see our grandfather. My fingers are crossed that he’ll be able to come.

Meanwhile, there are rumblings that my aunt and uncle and a few of my other cousins may drive down to make an appearance. There’s a part of me that wants them to -- to shift the burden from my mother -- and there’s another part of me that’s outraged that they may come down and try to take control of the situation.

In anticipation of their arrival, my mother rescued my great grandfather’s war medals, which were pinned on him by the King of England for valorous service in the Canadian army in World War I. My relations would no doubt sell them if they got their hands on them.

I am currently preparing a monologue of Shakespearean proportions to deliver to my relatives on our next meeting. Years and years of dealing with them have come to a boil, and I’m ready to let them know what I think of them. I’m anticipating this with a mixture of excitement and dread. I’d love for them to put up a fight, but I suspect they’ll just avoid what I have to say, just like they avoid everything else. But it would be worth it to try at least.

Today's productivity rating: 2/10

These two points were for cleaning my room and unpacking some of the junk that has been lying around in boxes from when I moved back in the week before last.

The first exam that counts towards my degree is on Monday and I have no revision done yet that really counts, this is awful and I have zero motivation right now. Hopefully I can get out of bed tomorrow earlier, the fact that there is a lecture scheduled should help with that. I might buy lots of coffee too tomorrow, it helps with staying interested in crap - crap like my entire course :-(

i don't know if we're scared to write anymore, or what.
i don't know what we'd say if we did write anything.
i don't know who i am anymore.
i don't know what's real anymore.
i don't know how to stop crying.

i don't know why it's been so lonely to be surrounded by people. i don't know why i'm so afraid of being wrong that it's an uphill battle just to start some homeworks. i don't know why it's so hard to be in this relationship lately. i don't know why i don't seem to be able to communicate.

do i have anything to say? it seems like forever since i've written. i guess i just couldn't deal with it. i'm not doing so bad, i guess. i mean, crying is good, i've been doing plenty of crying. no, but really, for all of the new stress i'm doing good. it's just so easy to get overwhelmed - not by the work, but by the anxiety. but i'm sick of that being what i have to deal with.

i thought i could leave all of that behind, but i wonder if we just set ourselves back to a place we maybe can't recover from. recovery. i'm sick of that word. but maybe i have to make a truce with it.

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