You know when people hit you from out of the blue, surprise you with something you'd never expect? It shakes you to the core, like all the ideas you've built up in your mind have been kicked in the groin -- maybe you aren't as open minded as you thought you were. Maybe?

So you shrug it off, with excuses of diffidence, not ignorance, and life moves along, with this new piece of information stragetically filed away for use in future interactions. And the world spins on...

Today I went to the 21st annual King Mango Strut parade in Coconut Grove; it's this irreverant, boisterous parade starring the characters who have led the Miami's news headlines, or parodies and satirical versions of them, anyway. It was a blast and hysterically funny. This is the first year in like sixty that there's no Orange Bowl Parade so one of the "floats" was led by the "Orange Bowl Committee for finding a new parade" and it was a big can meant to look like a can of frozen OJ, with the words, "Orange Bowl Parade from Concentrate, just add Sponsors." Hahahaha. Another group was the DCF (dept. of children and families), all the people acted like they were blind and had blind stick-poker things, poking around trying to find kids. They carried signs that said "DCF motto: It's the quality, not the quantity, that counts!" Ouch! hahaha. Another float was put together by the area Sierra Club, supporting dirty air and pollution as a mockery of Bush and his stance on oil and big business over the protection of the sustainability of our earth. One float was decorated like a jail, but spiffy on the inside, to make fun of Martha Stewart and the trouble she got in with her IMClone stock and all, with signs saying stuff like "Martha's 5-Alarm chilli for Large Groups, Learn How!". One guy dressed up with a bunch of leaves, and was campaigning as the "real" Bush. hehe. There was a group of people dressed as aliens, and pushing a baby carriage with a doggy in it who had a sign saying "Eve" on it, making fun of the Raelian people who have claimed to have cloned a human. There were nuns around a sign that said "The church grows fondlers" or something like that, and two men walking together pushing a wheelbarrel with a tissuepaper-made breast, and a sign on their chests that said "Two men walking abreast." That was my favorite. hahaha. plus, they had a "Censored" sign to put over it, but it had a hole in the sign for the nipple. Oh my! hehe. There was even an oooold lady dressed in a Hooters outfit, with a sign that said "Retired Hooters waitress", and she had designed the shirt so her "boobs" were actually at her knees! hehehe. and so much more....

Thats all for now. I'm starting to feel anxious since I'm leaving soon; that feeling of, I know I'm forgetting to do the one thing I wanted to do here, and now I won't get to....ahhhhh!!!

Goodnight.

More Accomplishments:

• watched Gangs of New York Thursday. Excessively gory; effectively ruined my whole peaceful mindset and even worse, my day. Arg.


• watched Minority Report yesterday with Hanson. Hugged his leg, bit his knee in horror. Terrified me to bits. Couldn't sleep. Fitfully watched football. Great movie, though. Crazy sidenote: the movie was based on a short story by Philip Dick, the guy who's book I'm reading. Wowsers. Small world, huh?


• watched Kate and Leopold today with the 'rents. Delightful, really.

It struck me as strange that I was forced to face mortality today. That mortality has been shoved in my face for the past three days just seems awkward. Thursday I sat my parents down and made them teach me my history. My family history, that is: when did my ancestors come to America, why, where'd the family branches go, how'd they meet? It was all fascinating. Then on Friday we went to eat with my great aunt (my dad's mom's sister) and she told all these stories of the family in the Bronx, my great-grandfather's toy store, my grandma's cousin peeing on her from a tree branch...yea...it was funny. And today, we rummaged through old pictures. I was enraptured by these volumes of crinkled, black-and-yellow pictures of people whos DNA I share, but whom I know no better than the next person on the street! Wow.

"If you keep doing that, you'll have guns the size of Kansas." --Me, on the subject of Francois's pull-up bar in his room's doorway.

Then I tried one myself, got a full chin-over-the-bar regulation pull-up done, and decided that it was fine with me to stick with my Rhode Islands, as Francois elegantly put it :)

Tonight was....fun. I felt sort of empty, too, though, because my parents got angry with me for no good reason. Earlier I was frustrated. Annoyed. Peeved. I wanted to release my wrath!! RRrrraaarrrr!! But after 3 hours of pool (I'm sloooooooooowly getting better, I actually won 3 games and got to the point where it was my turn to hit the 8 ball in but I called the wrong pocket twice, weee!) with Mandy and Robbie, I felt relaxed, relieved, and more cheery. Whoever was controlling the billiards place's music must have been old and sad. All we heard was Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, and the like. Aye!

I should go to sleep, but Juvenile's classic, classic song "Back that Up" was playing on the radio when I was getting out of the car so now I'm kind of pumped, kind of ready to get my groove thang on. Woot woot!

Maybe someday I'll write. I think I'd really like that. Hum de dum. That is, after fulfilling all those other dreams I have starting to stack up on my list of "Things I want to do to make my life more interesting, random, fun, and memorable for myself." Riiiight.....Well, goodnight!

I walked out of my house tonight (est. 6:40 p.m., e.s.t., south) to walk Sandi (dog), down the driveway, and onto the street. I turned to head towards the main street (west), but noting that Sandi was lagging behind, I did an about face (east) to discover the reason for the hold up. She was caught up in a specific pile of poopie, but I was almost immediately distracted and my eyes diverted to straight overhead (easter-upper-ly). My visual senses were assualted with an enormous sky of deep blue, with pinpricks of sparkling white light shining through all over. I had my clearest view of the night sky since the last time I had been home. Feeling safely, warmly (temperature: a balmy 65, Farenheit) enwrapped in this blanket of blue, I felt reconnected to the world around me, reminded of the small role I play in this huge globe; with the sky overhead, how can anyone ever feel alone?

The dog and I walked, with her sniffing and me pondering. What a world.

This may sound conceited, selfish, self-centered, snobbish, and even (oh my!) stupid, but I was thinking tonight as I jovially entertained the fam, about how boring their lives must be when I leave. What do they do for giggles? For stomach-aching guffaws? Because I'm funny, gosh darnit. I crack my parents up. Sure, it's cause I act silly and stoopid (ways I would never act around my friends. hehe. Sure, it's not real humor, like rehearsed jokes or anything, but still, it illicits smiles and that's what's important. It makes me feel really good to play this family-jester sort of role, because as the only child I'm showered with attention (and the good kind too, not just angry attention) and loved. I know I'd be love even if I was without my modicum of humor, but it makes me feel proud and unique and special to someone else -- to somebodies else. Yea. So maybe I should really ask myself, what do I do when they're not around? I really feel like my whole personality is happier and brighter and chippy-er when I'm not in school. Maybe that's how everyone is, without stress and all. I wish I could capture the way I feel now, like nothing can touch me, and sustain it throughout the semester. I've got lots more semesters to try.... :)

I was thinking about possible reasons why my dad was so grumpy yesterday, and it hit me like a Mack truck would hit a blade of grass--my grandpa (dad's dad) died four years ago on Christmas eve. I can't believe another one has passed..... humm, grandparent and year....oh, the ambiguity.

Accomplished(err?) since Monday:

• watched Adaptation. Excellent, very excellent.


• read (in its entirety) Prey by Michael Crichton. I'm a wimp, so this sci-fi thriller had me hugging my dog, Sandi, close.


• watched Save the Last Dance, which I now own on DVD, on my very own NEW DVD PLAYER that I got for Christmas...how much does my world rock?? :)

Aaah, the holidays have been good to me. I'm currently reading Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick (which was the "inspiration for the movie Blade Runner," as the cover says. heh. I don't know what's going to happen, though, since I haven't seen the movie). Now it's back to the fam. Merry Christmas!

"You are what you love, not who loves you." --Donald Kaufman, in Adaptation

Some quotes I really, really liked from the book:

"There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in."
--Graham Greene, in The Power and the Glory

"What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life--to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?" --George Eliot, in Adam Bede

"But who can distinguish between falling in love and imagining falling in love? Even genuinely falling in love is an act of the imagination." --Irving

"He distrusted her affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust?" --Eliot, in Middlemarch

"There is no intolerance in America that compares to the peculiarly American intolerance for lack of success." --Irving

Wow. I'm still recovering from the after-book shivers. I just finished reading that Irving book, "A Widow for One Year," and now I'm experiencing that lost feeling that overcomes me whenever I finish an excellent, thought-provoking book that I've been reading for a while and not doing anything else -- what do I do now that the one thing that has preoccupied me for 600 pages-worth of time, is done? The book reminded me of what it's like to experience a healthy spectrum of emotions, made me feel as though, if the book's messed up characters could end with a happy life, then certainly I can, too! I can't even verbalize yet all the unformed thoughts and emotions triggered by the novel's voices...

Movies I've seen in the past week (and in this order):

• Office Space (3 times)


• Analyze That


• Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings


• Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

Plus, I saw the last 3 movies all in one day. That's crazy, yo!

Now I'm about to start another book ("Prey" by Michael Crichton), but I feel sort of guilty, like I'm cheating on my just-finished book. Oye, to think what life would be like if I had had as many "lovers" (ha! that's such a fifty-year-old's word, but I use it because I can't think of anything more suitable. bleh.) as books fill my shelves. I couldn't concentrate on anything today, not even THE MALL! until I had finished my book. How a succession of black markings on many bound pages can capture my attention and drive me to physical lethargy to allow my mind to play! Goodnight, world, for now...I'm off to sleep the contented sleep of a girl who thinks life really is okay, afterall. :)

Spending large amounts of time with my dad seems to inspire me to write, or to at least think. I don't know if it's because he's kooky, but it's certainly not because he's a writer. As much as I admire him and hope to emulate his success someday, I nevertheless find it awkard now to be in his presence; I feel very put off. Scared almost, but of what I can't figure out. Maybe scared of not living up to him. Hum.

Yesterday Danny and I went to Oleta River State Park to go mountain biking, or as close to "mountain" biking as you can get in the excruciatingly flat, flat land of south Florida. If the nation was a set of stoveware, Florida would be one of the skillets. Right.... So, we picked our way through the awful afternoon traffic that consisted of young wives, who Fitzgerald would have called in The Great Gatsby "new money," driving their overly expensive and unnecessarily large mountaineering vehicles (which, I'm sure, will never see nature's palate of greens and browns; these overbearing monstrosities will only encounter contrived soccer fields and delicately navigate square, gray parking decks). Luckily, I felt my frustration melt away with every inch we crossed into the park. The speed limit in the park varies from 5 to 25, and I strictly adhered to those posted signs, much to Danny's chagrin. He compained, "Come on Jen, why are you going sooooo slow??" For some reason, these normally-pesky metal signs seemed to be friendly reminders (instead of a hassle or nuisance, another impediment imposed by The Man) when found scattered along a beautiful stretch of loblolly and long leaf pines; almost as though the signs were gently telling me, "These speeds are posted for a reason--remember, this is a family-friendly park, where unassuming children might accidentally bike across the road without looking in both directions, or an endangered animal might try to dart in front of you--we're just doing you the service of trying to prevent you from the guilt that you'd be forced to live with if you were going over the speed limit and KILLED A CHILD OR A POOR, HELPLESS, ENDANGERED ANIMAL!!! So I went the speed limit.

High school is a strange, strange creature. Danny and I went to good ol' Stranahan HS (Home of the Mighty Dragons, by the way) in the morning (before our exciting and adventuresome bike trip) to visit old teachers and friends. What a strange, strange sensation it was to walk through the halls that are still saturated with the exact same smells that were there 2 years ago and feel transported back in time by these offenses to my nostrils; I almost thought that the "Wild Boyzzz" were going to be around the next turn in 3rd hall, banging beats on the wall and dancing (with the sea shells that adorned the ends of their hair braids click-clacking together) to the floor. It was great to see all my old favorites, great to feel like a superstar, great to feel like the proverbial big fish in the much smaller pool. It was shameful, at the same time, though, because it reminded me of how successful and "cool" (translation: doooooorrrrkkk) I was back then, back before I knew what I was like to not have over a 4.0 GPA. It made me feel like a failure, kind of, like I had let down my former self. What a stark realization: I have failed myself. It doesn't get much worse than that.

But I rationalized to mend my college-fragiled ego; I told myself Tech was a different world. But still.....anyway, not to dwell anymore...

A Widow for One Year, by John Irving, is currently absorbing me. Irving is not only my favorite author, but also the author of my favorite book, A Prayer for Owen Meany. Excellent, excellent novel. Wow'd me. I've also read Irving's The World According to Garp, parts of The Cider House Rules (it got to be very slow and boring, so I stopped), and The Fourth Hand. They all seem to share themes of love that goes against conventional social morrays; copious sex between these illicit lovers as symbolism for something bigger; dysfunctional family relationships; infidelity; time; and testing and exploring the idea of fate to see how much of life it controls, how much does "tempting" it matter? Irving's favorite literary tools seem to be cruel irony, foreshadowing, and the frame story. There is always a woman character who pushes the boundaries of the gender box society longs to confine her to -- she is always tragic and misunderstood. I love that Irving's books all feel like conversations with random people on a park bench, where the random stranger feels compelled to share with me every detail of their life (including all the sexual experiences that molded and affected them), and the lives of all the people this stranger has ever come in contact with; by the end of an exhausting read of the novel, I feel as though I might be in the next edition of the story the stranger tells to his next bench-mate. Widow is enthralling, to say the least. Disturbing might be a better description, though.

i really hate computers. i just wrote like 5 paragraphs worth here, and then i got kicked off line.

maybe this is a suggestion that i shouldn't write here anymore, because all my words keep getting thrown away. maybe i'll stick to the more trustworthy medium of paper from now on. humph.

While it's still vivid:
When the air is just right, with a slight breeze running through my humidity-infused hair, and I'm sitting in a plastic patio chair by the pool, with the sounds of the intercoastal waterway lapping gently against the sea wall, it's easy to think, "Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta."

I got my hair cut today. I feel slightly disappointed, as though I half-expected that by chopping off my locks I would suddenly understand my life, and what I want out of it--school, relationships, friendships. But no, of course things don't work that way. Of course me snipping away my tendrils isn't going to infuse my life with new excitement or new meaning.

Right now I'm listening to a John Mayer cd, and whenever I listen to either of his cds it always reminds me of staring up at the bottom of the bunk above me on the train ride to Berlin and from Prague back to Brussels. On those sleeper cars, JM cds provided the warmth that the scratchy train company-provided blankets could not. The instense calm and peaceful, relaxed feeling created when John's fingers strummed the first few chords was magic. Those cds always put the same image in my mind; an image of the sprout smiling down at me, with the warm summer sun shining in his slightly tousled brown hair, his eyes crinkled in delight, his lips slightly chapped, and his love pervading. His fingers distractedly run around my hair; his hand rests gently at the point where my head and neck meet. And I stare back, with unnerving trust and an unadulterated, pure love evident in my piercing gaze.

Wow. The image is fierce in my mind.

life's not all bad, though, since i got to chizzilll with mandy, john, jho, and his girl. yay for free starbucks :)

i love my friends. woot woot.

i'm dying inside, and nobody knows it but me... (tony rich project maybe?)

why is it that honesty, the one thing that i've always thought was right, and would lead to good outcomes (because when you're honest people are more sympathetic, right?) has failed me? plum failed. i am swimming in circles in the same whirlpool of emotions and thoughts that i fought with two months ago. I don't think he understands the full intensity with which i hated life, him, the emotions he caused, the intensity with which i wanted everything to end. how much residual hate and mistrust is still left in my heart; i dont know how to clean myself out. i dont know how to reassure myself that its not all just going to happen again and break my heart all over again, not going to make me wish i had just ended things when i had the chance. and now, with this new *thing* putting even more doubt in my mind, making me question everything even moreso than i already did...

yourwords arebubbles ina cesspoolofmy swirlingemotions

i dont want someone else to make a decision for me, i want to be fully in control of the situation and know that i am bringing on whatever this is to myself. will i be able to handle this all over again. will it be different because i dont care. but i do. i feel like no matter how much i try to convince myself that a positive outcome will result, i dont trust that it will, that something bad is inevitably going to happen just because of all the doubt i harbor, that with all this doubt i'd never fully believe that something positive was real, concrete and with conviction. maybe i just need to try other things, to know. i dont believe myself. my mind has changed too many times, i dont trust it; i've changed so many times, i don't trust myself.

aye.

don't you know me?
haven't you seen me around, smiling sardonically
playing with the words that break you
so that i can hurt you before you
shatter me.

[As written 12/15/02 11:30pm]
ahhh my post just got deleted by this slow, stupid stupid computer. since im too lazy to retype what i wrote, the basics:
--me, danny, and mandy chilled like old times and it was sweet (even though the lemon was missing :) )
--i watched office space for the first time ever. great great movie and now i understand why so many people at Tech like it. i also now understand Dan the Man's buddy icon message thing. haha
--danny and mandy convinced me to ignored things and not think about *ehem* until next semester; although for the first break ever i don't feel empty, or like im missing something...a sign of what ive been thinking about the past week? won't think about it, won't think about it....

insert mandy's cool quote from that song here

"The shadows of the past overtake the present and reveal the future" --?

ho-hum. back at home, and what do you know it's the same ol' same ol'. and yet as familiar as everything here is, it's also strangely refreshing to be away from what was starting to become the same ol' same ol' at tech. and, i think the distance is making decisions for me. ahhhhh :)

i was inspired last night by a friend who paints really well, it made me want to feel the comfort of my fingers wrapped around a slender wooden brush, unmethodically slapping some color onto the page as haphazardly as my wrist and imagination would allow. so i did. kind of. i got out my old pastel set that i've had since i lived in maryland (i got them right after a visit with my grandpa, who was an amazing artist; he did it just for fun and tried to teach me a few things, but those genes didn't transfer and i'm jsut clumsy with art) and a sketch pad that was lying around and i drew. well, it's the effort that counts, right? hehe i had a picture of this beautiful scene in my mind that didnt quite transfer to the page. it was incredibly relaxing, though, to just sit by myself in my room, surrounded by memories, dreams, and a decent cd player, and not think about anything. i'm going to try again tomorrow to get that scene right - i found some really old colored pencils that my g-pa had that turn into watercolor looking strokes when you run a wet brush over the pencil and they might work better than the pastels. and if not, i'll just have to try again :)

but the best part of the day was knowing that i'd get to see danny tomorrow!

Why do I keep fucking up? I have that feeling again like I'm bludgeoning my head with a large mallet. A very, very large mallet. I know grades do not define who you are, or your self worth -- I learned that last spring, but it's so discouraging to feel like I gave something my all, like I really tried because I learned my lesson from before, but no. Clearly it did not work, whatever I changed. I may be speaking too soon, who knows for sure until Monday. I just feel frustrated with myself, and lost - if this is my best, and I'm trying my hardest, then maybe I'm just not good enough and I'm not who I've always purported to be.

At the same time, my frustration is exacerbated because I know that the mistakes that I made were not because of a misunderstanding of the material, it was because of a misplaced number or a miscalculation, but my professor doesn't care about partial credit so I'm not going to be reward for the majority of the problem, which I did right. Arrrr

Time to put on a happy face and go take another bludgeoning. Or maybe all my studying will pay off on this one, and I won't make stupid mistakes.

Tonight summed up my life, its ironies, and why I think my life is one long episode of Seinfeld. Really.

Kristy and I went to Georgio's pizza to have dinner (and also get away from the books), and then Kristy convinced me it'd be a good idea to round out the meal with one last Jake's trip together. We drove along Piedmont, trying to find a spot and alas! there were none, so we parked in the conviently located lot next to Caribou Coffee, figuring that that way, we wouldn't have to pay for valet. It took us all of 5 minutes to go to Jake's and come back, but nevertheless upon our return, I noticed a glaring orange THING attached to my left front tire. My poor baby! My Dip! The hands of The Man have never touched my baby before! The worst that's ever happened to Dip, as far as run-ins with Parking Nazis goes, is that a mere yellow ticket envelope has been tucked under her strong, powerful windshield wiper blades. Oh, the horror!! I run (ok, walk quickly) to the big fat meanie who is in the process of ticketing and BOOTING someone else and ask him (and kindly, I might add) to please remove the boot that must have been accidently lost on my car. Perhaps he had been looking for it, and I would be the one to help him find his mistakenly placed boot. He gets this half-smirk on his pock-marked, ugly, street-ravaged face and makes a few snide remarks about how we "left the lot" (HA!) and so he had to boot the car (by the way, if they don't want me on the lot, then booting isn't very effective now is it, because it forces me to stay there! Aye!). I told him that we were going to get coffee to go with our ice creams, that we were still doing business with the tenders of the lot. He didn't care, the jerk face, and demanded his fifty dollars. I bet he doesn't even turn it in to whereever he's supposed to - I bet he just pockets that cha-ching. Luckily, Kristy had just sold her Calc book today so she had $49 in cash on her, and the last dollar we scrapped together in nickles and dimes. Kristy told him, "This is my life savings!" And he kindly retorted, "You don't have much of a life, do you?" Who says that?!?

It just figures.

To make the situation even more laughable, this is the third time in about two weeks that we've been to Jake's together. Jake's is in a notorious gay part of town, and the worker (who is way hoooooottttttt) seems openly gay. Every time we've gone we've either had to pay with a debit card, so one of us buys both ice creams, or one of us doesn't have enough cash so the other buys both; in any case, the hot worker gives us this Knowing Look when we go in, that says "I know you guys are lesbians." Hehehe....which is definitely not the case, but makes for hysterical outings. I love it!

So that was my night. Pretty eventful, though maybe not in the most positive way.

i still can't figure out if the tears are falling because of the stress of everything right now, or because my heart is telling me to do something i never thought i'd do....

one of my sister's fathers died 2 weeks ago or so, and K and i were just talking about how strong she must be to be able to block out the pain and take her finals. now her away message says: "My source of knowledge, my source of progress, my source of joy....gone" i can't even imagine how i would feel if one of my parents died. and i dont want to have to. but then i realized, in the midst of feeling bad for her, that my own granmother died not two months ago. that i was a broken train wreck earlier this semester. how long ago that seems...and how guilty i feel for having that thought come as a shock to me, as though i had completely forgotten and my mom was calling to tell me for the first time. what made me feel better? certainly not jody. what happened to make me stop emulating a fountain and return the smile to my face? what worked for me that i could try to do for my sister? i think it was just time. i hate how trite that sounds, "time heals all." it's just that time equals forgetting, time equals burying the past, time doesn't heal things, it just covers them over until the wounds are no longer on the surface and they can be ignored. oye!

it's hard to believe that after the next 72 hours or so, my life at school will completely change. most of my closest friends are leaving to work around the country and won't be a couple footsteps away anymore. sniff. aye!

back to studying

why, oh why, are boys such idiots? i was just trying to be nice, trying to care, trying to put forth some effort - and what happens? it gets thrown in my face. sometimes i think there's no point anymore. no point really in trying to be the good one, because this can't be one sided, and i thought it wasn't but then when he does shit like this, on such an important day, it infuriates me. rarrrr!!! instead of pointing the finger of selfishness, maybe you should look inside yourself first and ask what your motivation for pointing that finger is. growl!! he's making something out of absolutely nothing, nothing. i have no more words. just a number that seems to keep decreasing with time. a single solitary number that might soon become one. i wonder where the newton-raphson method would take me with that number....

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit."
-Nelson Henderson
"If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were."
-Anon.
The key is to find someone you can enjoy the moment with, and only time will tell if you can enjoy the rest of your lives together...

right on jeff. that anon person really knows what they're talking about. hehe.

my two cents on the new musical stylings of one Justin Timberlake: his new CD sounds completely manufactured, all done on a synthesizer, all the lyrics are trite and about hoes and partying (not that I can't identify with that daawwwggg...), and the worst part is that i don't have the CD cover booklet insert thing; at least then i could stare at his beautiful face while blocking out his "music". heh. and as much of a hypocrit as this makes me (refer to my previous post for the irony here), but i like listening to it. it's catchy because of its manufactured-ness - am i not a person? am i not vulnerable to the tricky mind-gaming manipulations of the man and of big business, and other such evils? when pricked, do i not bleed? mmboopppp do wop wop do op..... ooowwww!! :)

i often wonder what the point of finals is. really. the stress is unnecessary. i don't think its truely an adequate avenue for us to demonstrate to our professors what knowledge we have gained over the semester; for most people its a test of how well you can cram. rarrrr.

anywho, today i did something nice for someone else, somewhat randomly but with lots of meaning and care behind the action. and it made me feel really good. when i was rushing around in the morning traffic this morning, getting everything together, i was agitated and afraid that i wouldn't get to his house before he had to leave to take his final. but nope! i let myself in and knocked on his door, and he appeared, groggy eyed, in the smallest crack of an opening he could make between the door and its frame. it's funny how doing nice things for other people is just as rewarding for yourself as it is for the other person. sometimes i feel greedy when i volunteer places, that maybe i'm getting more out of it than i am supposed to, or than i should. then again, if no one truely enjoyed serving others, there'd be alot more sad people in the world. one hting that bothers me about community service though, or i guess i should say the people who do the service, who do it only because it looks good to other people. that goes for everything, actually. its silly to do something you dont necessarily believe in just because you want to be associated with the good qualities that people who do that something are attributed. some of my biggest pet peeves are hypocrisy, apathy, and sugar-coated fakeness. rarrr.

the science of mental unstability fascinates me. is it chemical? biological? genetic? what physically happens in a person who feels like they aren't worth anything, what can let a person scrape across their viens with a knife? what makes people hurt each other? one of my best friends from middle and high school is suicidal; i wonder if we had stayed better friends, kept in contact more, could i have made a difference? can any one person ever make a difference in another person's life, i mean really make a difference? in my niave optimistic outlook, i'd like to think so, but then why didn't i try?

what makes people not love or fall out of love?

i should get back to estudiar-ing.

a few things heard in my room tonight:
"my clit is fucking huge"
"at least he didn't molest you"
"gosh darnit, why didn't he?!?"
"this is what happens when you like freshmen boys"
"i'm not sure the person on the bottom could handle three of us"
"L, you're like a playground- i just want to roll around with you"
"you give me the giggles"
"my stripper name should be giggles"

i thought i was unconfused after last night, but now im not sure again. why, you might be asking; well, yea. i often wonder about the impact of the future on the present, mostly in the sense of how thinking about what you want for the future or about what's uncertain in the future affects decisions made in the present, or emotions felt, and maybe for the worse. how do you know what's right? how do you know when to stick with something that you think is destined to fail, because it might, just might, not? how do you stop yourself from constantly comparing the past to the present, and thinking that since the past was so good the future and present might as well be foregone, foresaken. humph. off to rent a movie now and think about what i'd really rather be doing.

one last note before i go to sleep: bubbles to my favorite boy :)

I feel satisfied enough with how this looks so far, so that if someone looks at it it is sufficient. I'm going to keep tweaking though (mostly to procrastinate studying for finals) to make it excellent-e. stare at the picture while its still here, cause i think im going to take it down since it makes the page take for-EVER to load. rarrr. who wants a one night stand tomorrow night? i do i do!! Will kristy be a jelly belly again? Will i lead santa? Only saturday's parade will tell...ooooo....weeeee

hey hey

I'm real.