I lost another bike today. Actually, it isn't lost yet; it's sitting upstairs in the hallway, a wounded, once fleet herd animal, like a gazelle or something, leaning amongst its many healthier brethren for protection. I tilted it against my roommate Ira's beat-to-shit Bianchi, which I felt was appropriate, as they spent so many nights together wreaking havoc through the asphalt grid of Chicago, and spent so many hours cursing us out in whatever language bicycles speak while lashed to parking meters and bikeracks in foul and unimaginably cruel weather. Some of its vitals (chain, derailleur) are hanging in a little greasy black baggie tied to the handlebars. The brake and gear cables are a wiry mess, pathetically jumbled and tied up around the top tube. The hub is shattered on the back tire; it buckled gracelessly like a broken ankle after a bad spill off a curb, but the full extent of the damage wasn't made clear to me until I'd gotten it to the shop and saw it up on the rack. I figured it was just the gear system out of alignment, or maybe a bent rim, and it was going to simply be a $20 quick fix or whatever, like all the other times I had to take it in. Not so lucky.

I'd procrastinated taking it in for about a week, having repaired what I could of the shifting system in a mini mall parking lot about a block from where I'd had the accident. It was good enough, I felt, to ride on for awhile. Having finally gotten a paycheck over this weekend, I shrugged and decided to have a professional look at it.

Initial examination: "I'd like to replace the derailleur, because its really not shifting correctly, and if you look at the way it climbs, etc. etc." Basically: $30 labor, $32 parts. Not thrilling, but not highway robbery for the kind of work they do there. Full cleaning, lubrication, and a guarantee of solid, no-bullshit workmanship.

Rear wheel removed, shifting system disassembled: "It looks like the hub back here is having some difficulties. I'd like to take it apart it, relubricate it, tighten it, and make sure it isn't bent or fissured or anything..." And I'm all nodding, okay, whatever, flipping through magazines, trying on gloves, etc...

Then a big fat fucking CLANG on the floor and a low "oh shit" out from where my bike is up on the rack and I know something's gone horribly, horribly wrong. It's like when you go in for a checkup for what was an almost insignificant stomach problem, and find out that some terrible cancer has eaten through most of your gut and that they need to operate immediately and you're going to have to go home in a wheelchair, if you get to go home at all.

Sparing you the technical details, its like a kneecap on my bike was shattered, the bolt having been so badly fissured it simply snapped apart in the technician's hands. I wonder, as I type this, if he fucking dropped the thing, but I don't think so, because I didn't see him bend down to pick anything up, and there were already stress fractures on the inside of the hub, so either way, the rear tire was absolutely crippled, without an in-shop replacement. Better it broke apart there than on the street, I feel.

After a length of head-scratching and being outright numb at the development, he made the bike roll-able, charged me nothing, and I told him I'd be back tomorrow to see if we could hash out a discount on a brand new bike or something.

So I left. I walked out, next to my bike instead of astride it, and we went home together, slowly, through the ghetto on the other side of Western Avenue, where the police swept all the trash to when they made Wicker Park a habitat for yuppies. All the way there, I had my U-lock ready and bared, in case someone tried to rip my wounded bicycle off from me in the street.

This was my first real, brand-spanking-new city bike; a dark blue Fuji road hybrid. I'd rocked it all up and down the south side, west side, lake shore, old town, gold coast, pilsen, Ukrainian village, etc. etc... We'd spent long afternoons being chased by dogs when I hauled it up to Wisconsin where I worked as an hand on an organic farm over the summer, we'd spent a lot of time just sitting on the grass, or by the lake. We outmaneuvered road raging drivers, we shook a squad car going the wrong way up a one-way, we fought, we sweated, we kicked ass. It's not like I was dating the fucking thing, but when your mode of transportation is tied directly to your physical functioning, it's hard not to be attached to it, you know?

So that's that. They estimated about $120 to repair it, which is money, honestly, I think would be better spent simply towards another new bike. Is this treachery? Or is this like putting a wounded horse down? Do I want to wait around for the obscure parts to come in, and fuck around with the componentry, and take the bus like a sucker?

Fuck no. It died just before winter, and it probably wouldn't have survived this year's road-salt assault very well, I think. So right now I'm wondering: Do I do something really dramatic with it, like throw the fucker into Lake Michigan, and wave goodbye as it sinks, and freak everyone else on the lake shore out? Or am I going to strip it down and use the frame and some other junk to make some kind of crazy tall bike or chopper that I can take to Critical Mass? It's worthless to trade to anyone. I never even gave it a cool name. Fuck.

I got into a car accident today.

Nothing serious. I was driving along 14th Street South, in Calgary. I was on my way to pick up some cheap gas (48.1 cents per liter!) at the Safeway gas bar. Traffic sucked as per usual. A lot of stopping and going. The car in front of me braked suddenly, and I had to stop even more suddenly.

I did that, and the car behind me did as well. The van behind it however, did not. It rear ended the car behind me, which caused it to slam into my car, which caused my car to hit the car in front of me. Isn't the law of conservation of momentum fun?

There wasn’t any damage to the car in front of me. My car was ok, just a small chip in the paint. And considering that it’s a POS Tempo, I don’t really give a shit about that. Car behind me got the worst of it. She can’t get her trunk open anymore. Dude in the car in front of me said that it’ll probably take about $1000 to fix.

As for part of the day before that, I slept in about 4 hours. I missed my quiz in differential equations. First one I’ve missed so far this year, so I guess it’s not that bad. I called the Department of National Defence in relation to a story I’m writing for the school newspaper, the Gauntlet. No word back from them, however when I was flipping channels before leaving for class, they had the question period in the House of Commons on CTV, and they brought up the subject of my article. So instead of some functionary at the DND, I have a quote from the Prime Minister for my story. Pretty nice I’d say.

I got to my lab in Materials Engineering, and was in and out in 30 minutes. Ran into a friend, got a slurpee and went back to my fraternity house to play Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2 and Marvel vs. Capcom 2 for about 2 hours before driving home and getting into an accident.

Wow. I learned a lot yesterday. Thankyou everyone who helped me out. Some people have said some nice things. Some less so. I will be back tomorrow though. I think I like everything2. The advice and encouragement I've been given really cheered me up. As you can tell, I can now link. I can also pipelink and format things using HTML.


I mentioned in the Chatterbox yesterday that I'm looking for work right now. It's hard. I graduated a few months ago with an Electrical Engineering degree. Since then I've had absolutely no luck finding anything decent. For a few weeks I was working in McDonald's! I quit that though (dull dull dull) and so I continue to obsessively scour the papers and even newsagents' windows.

Today is another day. Colder than yesteday; very chilly. My fingers feel cold and quite stiff as I type this. I hate the cold. It is winter here in London, which also means it's hard to get out of bed in the morning.

Today I saw an oil rainbow in a puddle on the street. The first one I've seen for many years. It was beautiful. I also saw a Vending Machine with nothing in it apart from a single packet of salt and vinegar flavoured Crisps]. Sort of lonely and sad. I nearly brought the crisps out of pity, but I don't like the flavour.

< prev | next >

My body has let me down today, even though it has exceeded my expectations of late. I woke up with spasms on the left side of my body, right underneath the left rib. I think it might be my kidneys or liver (I never did take high school biology). It hurts like the plague and even has a lump there. I went to my doctor only to have him tell me that it might simply be due to muscle swelling as a result of all that exercise of late. "If it is bruised tomorrow, come back or go to the hospital as it might be due to internal bleeding." Lovely thought to be having the rest of the day. It could be nothing or something traumatically serious. Stupid quacks. That's what almost a decade of post secondary education does for you.

Its been another short day. Days off are gifts from a divine entity I tell myself every time I don't have work. I decided not to go to school today as it may seem to be a waste of time since its simply out of the book. Besides, all I need to do between now and the end of the year is get Steph's number so that we can study but other than that, there isn't really else about it. I'm glad that I'm in Langara College right now as its much slower paced, but more concentrated for me. Besides, in my condition, I rather not have to get MrFurious to have to take care of my whining.

I stayed home, reading and cooking dinner. My sister and I went to Ikea to exchange some stupid bookcases that they wanted. Saw Jenn there, and wanted to talk to her but didn't think much about it. To think about it, I do sound like I'm enamoured but its simply a matter of staring due to physical attraction rather than intellectual intrigue. Shallow as it may be, I'm only human. I used to think otherwise but I believe the statement was "You deny that fact in an attempt to suppress that facet of your reality." I'm older by the minute and I can't afford any more wasted time.

After about 2.5 hours of Counterstrike at the nearby internet cafe, we drive home Mike. The people there were terrible. By-laws do not allow indoor smoking but I suppose that doesn't apply to Richmond Asian Establishments. Made me almost vomit, as the smell of marijuana and tobacco combined do not make the most appealing smell.

I get home, only for the blistering pain to increase its occurence. Maybe its a sign of things to come for the rest of the week. Or maybe its oversleeping. I wonder if that's a medical condition. Not narcolepsy, but oversleeping. Maybe. But still, if this is the price of physical improvement, I keep doing it. I simply have to get over the initial shallowness of my potential female partner as she gets to know my hopefully more interesting inner self. As wrong as that may sound, it does seem applicable in real life as my research dictates that friendships usually start due to some sort of physical attraction, whether it may be minor or not so minor. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not. That's okay. It's good for my heart anyways right?

Anyways, I think the remainder of the night will be spent padding my left side, preparing myself for sleep. I personally haven't felt this badly since a fight left me feeling like a tenderized piece of meat in grade 4. Ah. Nostalgia. What else could go wrong? I rather not ask.


I am so really fucking pissed-off since yesterday. Nothing seems to be going right! And now, after reading some of the day-logs here, they all just remind me of the bad things that have happened.

I know it was a couple of years ago, but I still cannot get over how irresponsible she is. She had lost my bike - Miyata Hybrid, one of the first of its kind, the first ever bike I bought with my own money ($500.00 in 1990). It was because she couldn't care more about locking it up. She just left it there on the side of the house. And of course, any poor university student would tend to grab for anything not fixed to the ground. One time, my Cannondale Super-V almost gotten stolen if it wasn't for the fact that the Kryptonite lock was unbreakable. I found it on the ground with the large bike rack moved.

Other acts of irresponsibility included the obvious recent situation. And still others through the course of the relationship:

- throwing my own watch (the one my dad bought for me as a graduation present from Hong Kong) at me and damaging the band;
- driving my Chevy Blazer and scraping the alloy wheel against a concrete barrier;
- pushing over my $3500 Italian road bike and making a dent in the top tube;
- not engaging the parking brake on my Ford Focus and almost having it roll into a ditch...
...and the list goes on.

The way I see it, even though I regard things highly, though not as high a priority as people, she should have at least respected my views and not disregard them and damage my property! My rationale is that if she actually cared enough about me, she would have taken care of the things I worked so hard for to obtain as if they were her own. But then again, she doesn't take care of her own things all that well either.

Yes, it sounds really petty, doesn't it? But nonetheless, it really pisses me off when there is no respect!

And look what I've become! I'm the most bitter person in the world! Look what she's done to me! My daylog has turned into a rant log! Please go ahead and downvote away, because I am really, really, really, really, really, pissed-off at everything!

Okay, so I realize, I'm not an angel either. Shall I blame it on myself then, or use her as an excuse? Who's really at fault here when she drives me crazy with the things she do? How the fuck am I suppose to be not crazy? If the reaction is so predictable, and there's no way to change it, am I still responsible for my own reaction or should she be the one to alter her behaviour so that the predictable reaction does not occur?

I've realized that I've already put in my effort to alter my reactions. She didn't even attempt to alter hers. And when a person like that doesn't even try to change, then perhaps, yes, it is over. It's just too bad that she wasn't mature enough to discuss alternatives to breaking up a relationship.

Geez. I never even got to why I am so fucking pissed-off! Well, it all started when I woke up. I got out of the wrong side of the bed. My clock radio was playing crap as always - I hate the new show now that it replaced the Humble and Fred show. Dean Blundell sucks! Having to wake up when I didn't even get much sleep was the main culprit. I was grumpy all day despite repressing most of the feelings during lunch-time with the guys.

I was even so fucking pissed at the possibility of having to go to court for a fucking traffic violation in dumb fucking Quebec. Sometimes I really think those fucking highway patrol officers are racist. I am also fucking pissed at the fact the Stefanie has my $3700 worth of money I lent her and that she owes me. I still need to decide if I need to take her to small claims court. Shall I continue the headaches and go through with it, or be Zen-like and quickly "pass-through" the situation by letting it go? I'm starting to think the former, but already, the anxiety is doing things to my digestive system.

Time to call my lawyer.

I almost forgot to mention... She called me again last night. This time at my house. I said my "YHELLO?" in the phone, but there was no answer. I then hung up on her. This is starting to get really annoying! But hmmm..pretty cool - I'm being stalked by my ex-gf!

I went on one date with her. We had an okay time, I guess. Four hours or so. We talked, we did a crossword puzzle together, we ate lunch at P.F. Cheng's (a rather nice Chinese cuisine resturant here in Nashville), went to the Frist Museum. All in all, it was a fairly innocent and quiet date. No kiss, no making out, nothing really more than just sharing some time with a person I'm quasi-interested in.

That was, like, a month ago.

At the time of the date, she was preparing for a road trip to New York City and D.C. She'd made plans to go long before the 9/11 incident, so her intent wasn't to gawk at our nation's wounds; she was going to check out a college in New York and see the They Might Be Giants concert in D.C.

I had no idea of it at the time, but it was quite a major thing for her. Apparently, she suffers from an anxiety disorder and driving long distances, sleeping in hotels and eating in strange places makes her wig out. Like I said, I didn't know this about her at the time- we were barely learning to recognize each other's faces when we'd gone out on our first date.

I'd seen her at the cafe lots of times before I screwed up the courage to ask her out. We'd talked on a few occasions, sharing ideas and thoughts on relationships, goth culture (they're not "her people", though she dresses like them sometimes, and they are so not my people that they're like aliens to me sometimes), life, pets, writing, our mutual love of playing the piano... "safe" stuff that people talk about when meeting strangers who seem mildly interesting.

One thing I did (and still do) know about her is that she is quite fetching. Every once in a while she wears this goth-like cheerleader outfit that makes me drool in ways that should be illegal in public. She's in her mid twenties and has a brilliant mind, and sexy, too.

She made her own website (horridly designed with a purple background and poorly formatted text, but the pictures are cool as shit), where she posts journal entries and whatnot. On it, she posted an account of her "adventure" on the Eastern American seaboard- New York and D.C. After having read it, I can tell that the young woman has some "issues", but I kept asking myself, "This anxiety thing she has... if I were to seriously pursue her, could I deal with it? I've got my own share of anxiety issues... would she and I be like mixing two complimentary chemicals together that might cancel each other out or would it be like mixing two volitile substances that weren't meant to be together?" Chemistry, indeed. I never got past Earth Sciences in high school...

I saw her last night, at the cafe, when I was supposed to be in a business meeting with our web host/client. I tried to stay focussed on the meeting, but the whole time my mind kept going back to her, knowing that she was in the other room and doing crosswords and being generally alone in a sea of people, much as I prefer to do. I wanted to get up from the meeting, excuse myself, and join her in her aloneness. But I didn't do that. I stuck to my guns and stayed in the meeting until it was over (fortunately, it wasn't very long). As soon as the meeting was over, I bolted for the front of the cafe, set eyes upon her and was glad of it in some weird way.

I joined her, asked how her trip went (I still hadn't read her account of it yet) and listened to her talk about how New York is merely another big city to her, one amongst dozens. She didn't sound impressed with it. Once I got home and read her newest website posting, I realized why. For her, it had been hell. It had been a force of will that she'd committed herself to and hated every second of. She hadn't accomplished what she'd set out to do in the first place, visiting that college she's considering, but she did see TMBG in D.C.

I tried to intimate some level of understanding for her ordeal by explaining about my experiences in New Orleans. I felt kinda like an idiot when I brought that up- the whole time, toastido was hovering nearby, clearly wanting to play pool.

I wish I'd called her during her trip. I probably would have, had I known her cell phone might accept a call from Nashville, just to see if she was okay and safe and having a good time, so far from home. While she was gone, I'd thought about her a few times, wondering how the trip went, not knowing that it would be such an ordeal for her.

Last night, as I was preparing to leave to play pool with toastido, I told her that I want to see her again, perhaps to talk some more. I promised I'd read her latest addition to her website. Now that I've read it, I find myself pensive. Part of me wants to pursue this young woman, while another part wants to run away screaming.

I've been what I jokingly call "terminally single" for so long that it would probably depress some hermits. Part of the reason why is that I have utterly no clue what to do when I'm interested in the opposite sex. I know I'm attracted to women, God do they make my hormones carbonate!, but when it comes down to the brass tacks I'm all thumbs. "Uhm... Well... uh... hmm..." Some of my female friends probably wouldn't know it, after having some conversations with me, but I'm easily intimidated by women I'm attracted to. Understandably so, I've had my heart stepped on a few times and I've since been running in the "once burned, twice shy" mode.

Why do we, humans, argue against our better judgement based solely on our attraction to others?

On a totally unrelated note, I have decided to use my level 4 votes (30 a day) for something worthwhile. I don't spend votes very often. Usually I use them to upvote only the writeups that give me food for thought or really catch my attention. I rarely downvote, choosing positive karma by upvoting whenever possible. Anyway... I've decided to spend my votes on the September 11, 2001 daylogs- all three titles. I will only upvote the ones that convey positive/humanistic commentary. There's a shitload of 'em, so it'll take me a few days, but I figure good karma is worth investing in. I will not downvote on this voting spree, though.

A lot of those writeups didn't get much attention, many of them being overlooked because they were at the bottom or there is just so many of them. Each person who posted, who took the time to type out their thoughts on that day, deserve some sort of recognition. Many of them have, but I intend to add to their prosperity.

After all, what am I gonna do with 30 votes in a day?

Systematic Downvoted. Again.
This kind of things makes me stop believing in Everything. The idea of freely creating and by that gaining control is amazing. Most of the people are, too. But some of the Everythingians amongst us just don't follow the rules and makes this place not what it's supposed to be.
It's not that I really care about my XP anymore. But I remember myself as a newbie, and these things kept me away from E2 for a long time. And I think of the other newbies around here, working hard for each XP point. It doesn't make it easier. Too bad.


I hate people. Not all people, but like, 99.9% of them. My boyfriend's ex is harassing him. AGAIN. She says things like she hopes he dies like his worthless father did. She also says things like the worst day of her life was the day she met him. Very hateful words. They don't seem to bother Fred, but they drive me crazy. I feel like she is trying to hurt him, and that makes me want to hurt her. I'm very protective in that aspect. I don't understand what is so difficult about moving on and living your life. Dwelling on something isn't going to make it any different. You can say what if, and maybe if it was different, but.... you know, it wasn't. That's the way things went down. Like it or not. Good, bad or indifferent. Nothing changes it. The only thing that changes is you, and your perspective on life. Life your life, be happy, and never have regrets. That is my rant for today.

This week has been a wierd week.... Short weeks are usually like that but for some reason this one was extremly different. Maybe its something in the water, or air. I don't know

As a substitute teacher this week has been thankfully short but also quite boring. I mean the teacher I filled in for has a student teacher which means I just sat there and read. Some may ask well why pay someone to sit on their butt? But you have to when there is a student teacher (At least in Michigan). The student teacher who is in full control of the classroom cannot be the teacher on record for insurance reasons. So that means they pay someone to come and be the teacher on record. What a joke, but I guess it makes sense... somehow... maybe....

Plus today was a hafl-day which only meant I sat there less then I normally do. Oh well, as least I got paid....

Today, I (as well as some noders, above) turn 18. Indeed, it is my birthday. Eighteen, as big a number as that may be, I, being the rare-to-celebrate type, will have no more grand of a celebration of this event than of any others.

Although this node is on a personal note, it may apply to many other people, confused in their way, and its application may be that of enlightenment (goodness, I might actually reveal the truth! How unlikely :-))

You see, instead of celebrating a birthday, or another holiday which is not as rigorously followed in contemporary times, I save it for later. Although I will have no huge party today, in the near future a meeting of some of my close friends is being planned, and we will get drunk indeed.

Besides that, I have alot of people asking me if I will now go to a strip bar and get a full, nude, lap dance. The answer to this is that that's exactly the kind of activity that I wan't cut down on :).

In any case, wether one turns 18, or 180 (arguments for the last figure to be left for another node), the institution of a birthday has and will pioneer the flexibility of society (in its own special way), as it will no longer be necessary to shroud it in traditional ceremony of "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," and may encompass activities ranging from sitting for a long period of time, to nude lap dances indeed. In any case, it's my birthday, and it is a memory nontheless.
And here begins another holiday season...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. This is going to be my first Thanksgiving as a married woman, and my first Thanksgiving as the host(ess?) of a dinner. Its going to be just my mother, my husband, and I, but that's still a daunting prospect. Our first dinner party - horrors! So, as you can imagine, I've been trying to clean things up in the four and a half main rooms that we will have a guest in. These rooms are the living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and tiny "room" near the bottom of stairs where my bill paying desk is. I guess you could call it a foyer. I've got most of this done, just one more bookcase to sort out and the dining room table to finish cleaning up. The problem is my husband.

The fact that I'm so annoyed with him right now that I can barely speak does not bode well for a Happy Thanksgiving at Zari's house. He knows that we've had to clean up since last week, since before that even. And granted, we did have a lot of work going on with painting our hallway and foyer last week. However, I have still been trying to get the cleaning done. I've been trying to sort out piles of books and magazines, and put away or recycle the things that we don't need. But, when I try to touch his stuff (mostly books) and get it put into a bookcase where he can find it again, he gets all pissy with me. "What if I can't find it again??", he asks. Well, we have bookcases in two rooms, so it will be in a bookcase in one of the two rooms. I put books in the cases grouped by subject (travel, home improvement, philosophy, etc), so it won't be too hard to find a book you need. I explain this, and he still gets pissed off. So, I tell him that he can put those away and then he will be able to find them again easily. Problem solved, right? Nope.

This was three days ago. The books haven't moved. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. On Sunday, two tables that were in his office mysteriously appeared in the living room. He's sorting things out in there, and doesn't need those tables anymore as they have been replaced by bookshelves. He said he would take them to the basement two days ago. They haven't moved either and they are slowly becoming a dumping ground for more things that he needs to put away.

I wanted to get the cleaning done before today so that we wouldn't be freaking out about Mom coming over and running around today like crazy trying to put things away when we should be relaxing and not stressing about Thanksgiving. But no, that won't happen simply because he won't put things away when I ask him to. I don't want to play Nagging Mommmy or Nagging Wifey, but the situation is so frustrating!! If he doesn't have time to put his books away, then I will take care of it. I don't mind helping. I want to help so we can get everything done. If he doesn't have time to sort through the pile of recipes on the kitchen table, I don't mind putting them all in an envelope for him to take care of later and putting the envelope with the cookbooks. But no, he wants to do it himself, won't let me help and get things done, the books and everything else remain in the same place, then he wonders why I'm tense and pissy.

..deep breath..

He's cooking Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, so right now he's in the middle of messing up the kitchen making an apple cake for tomorrow's dessert. I spent the last two days getting the kitchen cleaned up, washing all the pots and pans, and putting appliances away. I'm trying not to get mad about this, but at the same time, I am. I know he's cooking dinner tomorrow, which I appreciate, because he is a better cook than I am. However, when he cooks, he seems to use every bowl, cup, and plate in the house, then spills a good portion of the ingredients on the counters and floors. Cleaning the kitchen is my job since he does the laundry, and its not that I mind doing my job - I just don't understand why he has to use so many fucking dishes to bake a cake! You need a measuring cup, mixing bowl, measuring spoons, and maybe another bowl to crack eggs in. That's it. Somehow, he ends up using twice as many dishes to accomplish the same final result. It drives me batty.

..another deep breath..

I was hoping for a nice, mellow, happy-go-lucky kind of holiday season because I am finally in a stable relationship with a stable financial situation and a stable living situation. But no, I'm pissed off and feeling mighty crazy. I want to get it out of my system, but I'm afraid if I go down the stairs and talk to him, I'm going to scream at him. So, I'll stay right where I am for now, hiding up in my room with the only sounds being the hum of the computer fan and the cat snoring in the chair across the room.

On top of all this anger directed at my husband right now, I'm turning into a semi-nervous wreck regarding my mother coming over for Thanksgiving. I'm guessing that tomorrow will be full of subtle disapproval from my mother, since I don't have a job and I am basically being a housewife at the moment. No, it doesn't matter that I'm taking classes part time, finally doing some writing, and generally trying to enrich myself and figure out what path I want to take. I don't have a job, and therefore I suck. My mother and sister have the very bad habit of equating money with happiness, self worth, and general well being. Yes, having money is nice, but it isn't the only thing in life worth having. It won't make you happy.

It would be nice if my sister and her fiance had accepted my invitation for dinner, because then I wouldn't be the focus of the pointed, "so... have you looked at the employment ads recently?" questions. But, sis turned down our invitation to have dinner at my dad's. I'm not sure why. The food at Dad's will not be nearly as good as what my husband will make, even though it isn't turkey (he hates turkey) and all the trimmings. She will have to tolerate screaming children, my grandmother and her wacko husband, and all that fun stuff. They turned me down, and I can't decide if I should be insulted or not.

My sister has been planning her wedding in semi-secrecy since August. She didn't even bother to call me to tell me she got engaged!! I found out about the engagement from my father as he was driving my husband and I to the airport to catch our flight for our honeymoon. When Alex and I got engaged, she was the second person I called. Her excuse - she was really "busy" with work and didn't get a chance to call. He popped the question on the weekend, and we left on our honeymoon that following Wednesday. Whatever. Even if she didn't have time to call, she could have emailed me!

..yet another deep breath - fucking daylog from hell!..

So, my sister is getting married next year. She did not ask me to go dress shopping with her. She did not call me when she found a dress - I found out from my mother that she found a dress. She has not brought up who will be in her wedding party. She was my maid of honor since I don't have any close female friends. I don't expect her to reciprocate, but it would be nice if she would tell me one way or another. I get the feeling that she is embarassed to have me as her sister, and that if I threw her a bridal shower she'd be embarassed to introduce me to her friends from work and college and embarassed to bring them to my house. I've had this feeling about her for a long time, simply because I am not very conventional at all, have done some crazy shit in the past, don't care about clothes and makeup, listen to weird music, and do things my way. I've never had this "vibe" from her come at me so strong until now though.

I'm so angry and hurt and just flat out upset about everything - my husband, my mother, my sister - that I can't even see straight. And I'm supposed to have a Happy Holiday Season ™ with all this crap inside me? Fat chance of that.

I am trying to stay focused on the positive, but its so hard. I know that I am extraordinarily blessed this year, with a husband and a home and good health. I just wish that I could feel like my mother and sister accepted me as is and loved me unconditionally, instead of always making me feel like I'm less of a person because I don't have the same goals in life as they do. If I could have only one thing for Christmas this year, that would be it. I know I haven't always been the best daughter/sister in the world, but I have worked hard to change that in the last few years through therapy and medication, and they know this. Yet, I still feel like they disapprove of me and think I'm a slacker with no goals in life.

So, now the question is... post this or just let it sit on my hard drive and be grateful that I got it out of my system?

Fuck it, I'll post it. I hope everyone has a good Thanksgiving. Please remember to celebrate Buy Nothing Day on Friday (the day after Thanksgiving) and don't drink and drive.

I went out on a date with a soon-to-be former co-worker. She recently confessed that she had her eyes on me for quite a while, and I had to admit to her that my interest in her was also more than average. Since she's leaving for a new job next week, I asked her out on a date, to which she agreed even before I had finished my proposal.

We decided to go to a Chinese restaurant, where we ate what they call in dutch "bami" (some sort of noodles), along with about 7 or 8 smaller dishes, including baked banana and roasted chicken in hot sauce. It doesn't sound too great, but trust me when I say it tastes delicious.

We left at about 10pm , each going to our own home. Although we both had a good time, we didn't connect in a way we both had hoped. However, I'm sure we will become close friends, as she lives near me, and doesn't know too many people in this town (and neither do I).

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.