In the words of Bessie Smith: it's hard to love some man, when he don't care for you.

Too much chocolate chip pancake for breakfast!!!! (It was only one; one HUGE one!)

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I found  some old Spice Girls music in my collection and bought a bathing suit today.



Life is so damn trying, guys.

Does death c rouch at my tent, like sin?

Friends, do not think me morbid; just forever more procrastinational.

There are few things more exhausting than fury and rejection.

I feel like it's late and I've been up since 8 this morning and my heart just broke again but now I'm fine and not crying for any reason other than pms.
And it's always the same game of "when are you coming over?" and "come to bed" and we're not in the same state and we're just kidding ourselves and I'm so bored of it but I'll die if he ever stops being good to me.
And he ignores my calls and makes me feel bad about calling period and when he does answer, he's all business and not wanting to communicate with me. 
[edit: "he's all business and not wanting me"]

In some ways I can't wait to be in a room and reading on my bed and not be with people I dislike [read here: the population of Iowa, relatives INcluded]. But I don't want drama anymore. I don't like missing them and not being a walk away; but I love the alone sometimes. It's not always lonely when you think about things like ROYL. {the Rest Of Your Life}
So I'd be a teacher if my sister weren't going to be one; I'd be a lawyer if I didn't care about my own happiness; I'd be a librarian if my dad didn't think it inadequate; I'd be a housewife if my mother would acknowledge it as acceptable.
While I wait, as we all must, I am forced into the recesses of a cavern known as Deceit, where everyday I pretend my life and my education weren't a waste of life, time or money. It is a nice cave, and it envelops me like a warm towel, or the moist folds of steam and hot water entertwined, or like an itchy sweater might suffocate you.
I've got the blue again, baby, and it's all that fault of yours. And I'll give you lung cancer if I want to, dummy. I don't care if your cough hacks, and your teeth enyellow, you decay on the inside as long as you forever strut what you call stuff. Oh you know it.

Each day, I fulfill more and more requirements that I set out for myself as pre-going to school requirements.

[huge 1 hour break to run out and get ice cream]

- all pantyhose made in Tunisia
- all nut cookies baked between 1976 and 1979
-  all blue topaz jewelry
- the LG enV line of cellular phones
- beachtowels with the color orange
- coasters with photos of dogs on them

- Superman and Wonderwoman child costumes

I went to work came home early, because I finished an hour earlier than usually.

In the yard, the Hellcat who mews at 4 in the morning, was playing with a baby bunny. He shreiked, I yelled at the cat and put the tiny baby into a shoebox filled with a shredded newspaper and a paper towel and carrot shavings and parsley and a bowl of water.
She ran away and came back with another shreiking baby bunny. She chased him and taunted him and pushed him into a hole he kept trying to get out of. He couldn't, and we rescued him too.
But he jumped out of the box and fled then I caught him again. 
While I was gone making bunny cages out of wire baskets and aluminum siding, the jumpy one died. I hadn't named gum yet, so I was only a little sad. 
Besides, Leopold is so docile and adorable, I want to keep him until he is big enough to survive on his own.
Hurray!
He has to sleep on the deck in his baby rabbit cage.
I hope he grows up so big and strong and the Hellcat dies.