That's one of the finer things about my friendship with Dan. He lets me bitch at him. And when I bitch, that's the thing, I'm not just bitching... I'm doing my fiery arguing, lecturing thing. That's my passion. To argue and to lecture. Not to rant. Not to fight personally. But to debate and to counsel people. And whether he resents it or not, he submits. I won't say I'm glad he's submissive. But I will say that it benefits me because many others don't take it very lightly and it gets messy.

I feel like I'm most who I am when I'm arguing and lecturing. I can feel myself rushing through my veins. I can feel my spirit. And it never had a God damn thing to do with who I'm arguing with or the topic or the counseling. Because it's, in a sense, all the same to me. It's just a part of who I am.

But a very offensive part, I seem to find. Although it's never meant to be offensive because as I say, it's really not particular to who or what it's about. It just feels good to be myself. And Dan has yet to give me trouble for it. If anything, when he does bring it up, most often he respects it more than resents it --at least to my face, so to speak.

I'm way behind on my reading.

Well, I have no idea what grade that is... I got 149.2 out of 200 points possible. For my Western Civilization exam. Hmm.

I think it's about 12 wrong out of 50. That's a lot. :( I don't usually get more than about five wrong.
I won't rush next time. It serves me right for rushing.. :(

I don't know why I'm up right now. I keep waking up at 8 or 9 even when I go to sleep at 2 or 3. :(

Today is really blah. I feel blah about everything. It was going fine in the morning. I had the house to myself and it was raining for a good portion of the day. I set up my voicemail and that made me happy even though it was misunderstood by Amelia and Dan but Isis doesn't really sound like a dog. She sounds like a baby. And I don't know what came over me after that. I was down from my high. It seems stupid but that's the only explanation I have. I don't know why I felt down after that.

I didn't feel like doing anything. I didn't feel like watching tv or movies. Or doing puzzles. Or editing pictures. Or reading. Or talking to Dan. Or eating. and that's like all that I ever do.

God damn. I'm really itchy. Like the type of itchy that isn't warranted but no matter how many times you scratch it still itches. Randomly. Every time I have a spot and it finally stops I get an itch some other random spot. Currently it's in the inside of my ear. Not my favorite itchy spot.

So I went to sleep at 8:30. Cause I really didn't get a lot of sleep last night. And life seemed a tiny bit better when I woke up but now I've been looking at old pictures and it's given me a not so good feeling. Like walking down memory lane is not sentimental. I'm glad to be in the here and now. I don't feel good reliving the past. Which is strange for some of the pictures I took last semester or even over the summer. I didn't have a bad life then. I had a gay old time. I don't know why I was so bothered.

I'm just kind of bothered in general, I guess. I just don't feel like doing anything. BLAH.

For some reason I feel very impatient... and I can't guess what I'm impatient for. I just can't relax and enjoy the day.

Aww we didn't win $96,300. (the radio station is 96.3) We had 15 one dollar bills that had a 9, 6 or 3 in it. But when they read off the serial number none of ours ended with an A. It began with a B and ended with an A, we didn't even need to compare the actual numbers. :(

Now I have 65 one dollar bills to go spend. I'm gonna go get mine and Isis's costumes.

Amelia texted me and asked if I had any one dollar bills with 963 in the serial number. I didn't have any. Apparently they're doing some type of radio contest because the bills always come out in pairs so they're going to read a serial number off of one of their dollar bills that have a 963 in it... and whoever has the match gets $96,000. So Amelia is cashing in twenties and etc for one dollar bills. She has one with a 963 in it.

It's a cute idea but I can't imagine winning. To just be sitting here and in the next second have 96,000 dollars handed to me. It's inconceivable. I guess it just doesn't seem like my fate. But who knows what my fate really is.

I finally got some real sleep! I just woke up at 2. I went to bed pretty early last night. And I guess sometimes when that happens I don't sleep through the night... even though the you'd think that would give me more sleep. It doesn't seem to. Early to bed early to rise. And late to bed, late to rise.

So I went to sleep at 10:30. I couldn't resist since there was nothing going on today. Usually I don't like going to sleep early because that ends the day and I treasure my free time. So I woke up at about 1? And got a drink of water and went back to sleep. Then I woke up at 4. And this time I couldn't go back to sleep. Isis woke up at about 7. And I was still awake by that time. I had been talking to myself in bed and editing some pictures and such...

Finally after Amelia left I think I got back to sleep. She dropped Isis off with Anthony on her way to school. But then I woke back up at like 8:30. I'd only been sleeping for about a half an hour. That was irritating. But I went back to sleep and seemed to wake up at 9 or 10. Still, only a little sleep. I'd only originally gotten five hours before I was up at four, so it's not like I'd had a satisfying amount of sleep. So I woke up at like three times in the morning. I think one time the phone rang and it woke me up. But from 11-2pm. I seemed to be passed out the whole time.

I haven't slept this long in a while. Quite possibly it has to do with my schedule, I don't sleep in past 12 on school days.. but also I think it has to do with people who wake me up. There's nothing in the house to wake me up. I don't know where Amelia is and Isis isn't here and my noisy parents aren't here.

I had weird dreams. I had a dream about Shannon coming over to my house to hang out. I think she was accidentally invited. Like I told someone I was looking for her and I wanted her to come over, but I might not have meant it... and they invited her when they saw her so I decided to just go with it and have her come over. But before we could really hang out or anything I woke up.

I had this weird one about my sister Stephanie. Isis was with Anthony but we saw him. He was holding her asleep in his arms like we used to do when she was younger. And he had a crowd of friends with him. He kept being nice to me and calling me sis like he used to. And one of his friends kept reminding him not to do it. It was weird. They'd always be walking away and the friend would be really loud and obvious when he told him not to be nice and such.

So Stephanie and I were originally talking on the phone. She was telling me that it had been ten days since her boob job and I think there was something wrong but she didn't get to tell me because the phone hung up. Before that though she told me something about how we don't get along and she doesn't like it. I can't remember the exact words.. So she called back after the phone hung up but apparently she was there with me by that point, driving in the car, down by the water.

I was trying to explain why we don't get along but I can't remember what I said either. It was interesting at the time. The water was a little different. Instead of the Hudson it seemed to be a lake. And there was this one girl about to go swimming and she hit on Loren, who was also down there. So Stephanie disappeared after that and Loren disappeared and then I was near the lake with Amelia.

Anthony was there when we got there and my hair was wet and as I held it I told Amelia that it weighed about as much as Isis. Anthony heard and offered to let me hold her. And again his friend scolded him for being nice to me. But apparently the reason he had been nice is because another one of his friends wanted to talk to me.

So the group left but his friend doubled back. He was really tall and he had yellow blonde hair, very bright. He was Swedish. And he told me his name but I didn't recognize it so I made him repeat it a bunch of times. At one point I thought he might be my brother Yohan, because I haven't seen him in like ten years. Although he had dyed black hair last time I checked. But he said something that sounded like Neils instead of Yohan. He said Nols I think. But I know what my brother Neils looks like and it wasn't him.

So then I kept asking if he knew who I was.. because maybe he thought I was someone else. And after a couple times of asking he ended up telling me that I was Amelia. And I said I wasn't and pointed her out so he could go talk to her. It was something like he knew her when she was a baby or some random thing. I didn't get to really find out because the dream ended after that.

I think I had one more weird dream this morning but I've forgotten who it was about.

Yesterday I had a dream about Maegan and Lindstrom.. But I dream about them all the time. It's usually a school setting but they're the only ones I talk to.

The other day I had a dream about my French teacher. :( Even though I'd dropped out, she saw me in the hall and she sort of ordered me to come into the classroom and talk to her and I wondered if I really had to go since I wasn't her student anymore. I think I explained to her why I withdrew from her class.

But it was the feeling that went along with her. She's actually a nice person. I liked her, for the most part up until she got mad at me for skipping the test. And that was apparently just a bad day that she was taking out on me. But I think she represents a particular person that I'm trying to oppose in this lifetime. The type of person who feels like they have a right to control me because they're an authority figure. And I've always stood up for myself but it terrifies me at the same time. Like the blood rushes when I'm that position. So I think that's why I dreamt about her. She didn't represent that kind of person to me until that last day.

But now I seem to be afraid of her. Afraid because I stood up to her and she wants to control me. But why that scares me I can't really say. Maybe I did it in a past life and I got in big trouble for it, like went to the guillotine or something. I don't know. I think I'll always stand up for myself. But even sometimes with "friends" or rather, Enemies, but peers... I get that rush of anxiety. But it's not that they represent someone who wants to control me that scares me. It's that I know that we will conflict because I won't let them control me. You know what I mean?

They don't scare me because they want to control me they scare me because I know what will happen when they try to control me and I resist. And it's an uncomfortable situation to be in conflict with someone like that and it makes me really nervous. The nervous thing I just can't explain.

So, since my mind has been consumed by this Western Civilization test for the past week and I've devoted all my time to reading the book which hardly helped me at all, considering he only used variants of the practice quizzes on the website... I had another test yesterday for Forensic Science and I just couldn't make myself study. I had time while I stayed home to babysit Isis but she was napping. And I could have at least looked over the text book definitions if not read the actual chapters.. But I just wanted to relax.

So I went to class and I studied for the first ten minutes. I know I would have done better had I studied more and yet, I did get a lot of good information in those ten minutes. And I when I got the test I told my friend Nikki that I thought I was going to fail. It was a very scientific couple of chapters. Most of it isn't about chemistry because there's a lot of other evidence that we look at. But this was about organics and chromatography and spectrophotometry and a little about elements and atoms and the like. Not fun stuff.

But as I began answering the questions I realized that I knew more than I initially thought. Mostly because of the studying. So I think I satisfactorily answered every question. There were some matching and some fill in and some short answers. I didn't do the bonus although I could have. It was to draw an atom and I knew the subatomic particles and their electric charge but I didn't really know what the atom looked like. I guess it has one big circle and then maybe a couple small circles for the subatomic parts and then a nucleus. That's probably all it was but I didn't try. And I ended up finishing tied at first done. Kind of ironic.

I'm often one of the first done actually. Except in the philosophy test when I was last done but that was a lot of writing and you've seen me ramble about philosophical topics...

I have the kind of brain that when I study the information is right at hand. And I'm ready to see all those keywords and the pattern that they have when they fit together, if you know what I mean. Like a sentence: Chromatography separates the components of a substance. And then they make an M.C. out of that and I know the pattern of what words go together. Separation of such and such is Chromatography. So I go REALLY fast because if I don't know it right away I probably won't know it at all. It'll never come to me, no matter how hard I try to probe my memory. It either comes to me in an instant or I have to guess.

Sometimes I have to reread the question and the like but anyway, the point is, I'm Speedy Gonzales when it comes time to release the information. I'm not good with speaking out loud about the information. I can't answer questions like that and it's hard for me to answer fill in questions. I'm best at M.C. I think even when I don't know the information I'm very good at applying logic to finding the correct answer. I noticed that when I was doing my first Sociology quiz... I first had a study guide and I hadn't been listening the entire class period but when she gave me the questions I realized that I knew the answer to most of them even though I thought I knew nothing since I wasn't paying attention.

I really thought this Forensic Science test might be my first B but I doubt I don't think it will be. I hope it won't be. I usually get like early nineties. So I'm only a question or two away from getting a B+. But my teacher is a cop, he's not a chemist and he, himself, does not get that deep into the topic. So I think from paying attention in class and doing my labs and from the little bit of studying, I probably know enough to get the basics. So I probably did well.... One can't know until next damn Thursday.

I haven't got the results of my Western Civilization exam either. It was freakin scantron, it only takes a second to put it in the machine and get the results but ACK he hasn't posted the results yet. He's a very hands off teacher. Very lazy. I would say he's a bad teacher, in fact. But I just ignore him and teach myself on my own time. And I have to thank him for being lazy because I think that's what prompted him to make only slight variations to the practice quizzes on the website.

I can't gloat in my success because of that obsession I have..

I don't want to get into it right now. It's a sad topic. I want to be happy today.

The tests never end though. I think I have another test on Wed. For Sociology. And I have a poem due on Thursday. Hmm.. I should write the poem today. It's very simple but I can never think of an appropriate topic to write about. In fact, I always found poems to be very personal and I hate to write them because I feel like whatever I say will expose my feelings in this uncomfortable way. I guess I'm not much of a fiction writer. And you'd think I wouldn't have trouble exposing my inner feelings, I mean, have you read any of my journal entries? I do it all the damn time. But there's something selective about poems. They are selective because they're so short. And I suspect that's part of why it makes me uncomfortable.

It's art + feelings. It's like my feelings are getting judged as art. So I have to shape my feelings. I have to make them artistic. I usually find them pretty cheesy and I can't really get a good poem out of them. I've written a couple poems that I'm proud of. Although if I were an actual poet they wouldn't be impressive. But because I'm not a poet at all, I'm proud of them because they're better than I expected.

So the other night the power went out like fifty times. It went out and then a few minutes later it came back on and then it went out again and flickered but stayed off for a minute and then came back on. And then a few minutes later it went out again and flickered and stayed off. And etc. I finally gave up and went to sleep. I was trying to finish an episode of Monk. I had like five minutes left of the episode so I kept turning it back on after the power came on and I'd watch a half a minute more and then the power would turn off again. Finally it stayed off for more than I wanted to wait so I decided to go to sleep.

Cause I'm afraid of the dark so it was scary every time the power was out. But as I sat there waiting for it to come on the last time, before I went to sleep, with the fear rushing over me... I finally thought... what is it that makes the darkness different from the light?

And I answered that in the light, I can physically see my surroundings. I'm in control because I know what's going on around me. There's no one there to sneak up on me. I mean monsters could hypothetically be invisible and end up eating me even when the lights are on but the point is, I feel in control, thus, I feel safe.

So I sort of just suggested, What if I could see in the dark as well. And it's hard to explain why this helped, why this changed anything. But it was almost like I surrendered my physical eyes to my spiritual eyes. Namely, I suppose, my third eye. And suddenly I looked around, not being able see anything with my physical eyes but knowing that I was safe with another eye.

The reason the light makes me feel safe is because I can see I'm safe. And suddenly I could also see that I was safe in the dark. I realized that just because I couldn't see with my physical eyes doesn't mean I can't know that I'm still safe. I completely have faith in the spiritual who can most assuredly see in the dark. So whether I surrendered to my Mighty IAM Presence or my Third Eye or just an angel... in any case, the fear left. Even on those days when I stand up to my fears and I call to Shiva to protect me I try to be okay in the dark... the truth is, the fear is still there because I'm still not in control. Simply because my physical eyes can't see and it makes me panic. Even if I hopefully have faith that Shiva can protect me, I still feel out of control and it scares me.

So I didn't really surrender control even when I was in the dark. I just thought, what is it that makes me okay sitting in this exact same spot when the lights are on, calm and serene - that changes when the lights are off. And then I just sort of proposed that I might have a way of still knowing that I was protected the way my physical eyes told me when the lights were on. I couldn't see what was there but I could Know what wasn't there. Like I could sense that there were no threats in a way to satisfy myself even if I couldn't physically see anything.

And it was the first time a long time that the fear left. I just sat there in a very serene way. And I looked around in the dark and my eyes reminded me that I was still not in control because they couldn't see. It was like I was telling myself, go back to being afraid. But the fear just wasn't there.

Of course, I didn't dare test it for very long so I crawled into bed and went to sleep. But it was definitely a break through because many times I've tried to face my fear and I've been able to stand up in the middle of the dark room and essentially face the unknown. But I was scared shitless and the panic never left me. So this was the first time that the panic did leave me. I still want to sleep with the lights on but it was interesting to surrender my physical control like that. We rely on our senses so much, we survive on our senses. And in a second I'd decided that I didn't need my senses to protect myself. That there was definitely a way to give myself what my senses originally gave me.

It's like saying, I'm more than human. It's like saying my power isn't limited to my human form. I surpass humanity. Not in a superhuman way but in a spiritual way.

Damn. Isis is not pleasant to be around. Very temperamental. Screaming temper tantrums... I only have to take care of her a tiny bit today. She's going to sleep now... maybe and I leave shortly after she wakes up. Then I won't see her until next Monday. Maybe she'll be in a better mood then.

Well, I have six brothers.... and the first one to get married is Colin. His wedding is on the ninth of Nov. I haven't met the girl. She lives in Alaska.

I never noticed that "suspicious" is an adjective, not a verb. I need a verb....
Suspect. There we go.

Yesssss. It took a lot of work but I finally finished reading the first seven chapters. We're only required to read half of the eight chapter so I have six pages left. You think six pages is nothing but it's difficult reading because I have to carefully absorb all the details of like 15 different societies. I have to memorize all the leaders of the societies, the names that the societies took, the areas that these people inhabited, the political, social, economic, agricultural and spiritual positions they each took and the like....

Plus it's fascinating but dry. It's hard to concentrate so I often wander away or rush on without absorbing the information. So I have to read very slowly and cautiously and make sure I take notice of all the key words, like a photograph, so that even if I don't know the answer on the test, I can guess based on my vague memory of what they're talking about.

So what I'm saying is, each chapter was 13 pages. But each chapter took about an hour to read. And damnet, there's not going to be more than like three questions a damn chapter on the test. Plus I read nearly 200 pages in Guns, Germs and Steel. Three hundred pages worth of history and agricultural facts.... oye. What dedicated college students have to submit themselves to.

I still have a lot of studying to do. Take the practice quizzes and such. I like all my other professors better. The ones that hesitate to test someone on more than three chapters at a time. Most of them do two, I believe. ... Crazy Western Civilization professor.

But I feel satisfied. In doing what it takes to succeed. Not to jump the gun, because I could not succeed as much as I hope on the test, bite my tongue... But I mean, I've worked hard. On my own time, granted... I didn't pay much attention in class. But he is a weird teacher, man. Paying attention may not have helped any more than this has. Who can say..

I'm gonna go play with Isis before school. I'm trying to teach her to say please instead of scream when she wants something. :p

Well, I seem to have one chapter down pat. Seven more to go...

I think I've discovered some of the origins of that old dilemma that women are not allowed to have sex with more than one partner and men are.

This is quoted from my Western Civilizations book. It's about Hammurabi's time in ancient Mesopotamia.

"The laws recognized men as heads of their households. In the interests of protecting the reputations of husbands and the legitimacy of offspring, the laws prescribed death by drowning as the punishment for adulterous wives, as well as for their partners, while permitting men to engage in consensual sexual relations with concubines, slaves or prostitutes without penalty. Mesopotamian men progressively tightened their control over the social and sexual behavior of women during the second millennium B.C.E. To protect family fortunes and guarantee the legitimacy of heirs, Mesopotamians insisted on the virginity of brides at marriage, and they forbade casual socializing between married women and men outside their family."

So think about it, men, in a patriarchal society, with probably the earliest motivation to have an heir for their fortunes and status, want to assure the legitimacy of their offspring. They sort of see women as the means of getting an heir, therefore to be controlled and protected. Possessed, in short - as babymaking people.

But the men also have promiscuous sex. Well that creates a problem because either they have a group of women who owe allegiance to only him, making them all virginal wives, at least for him, or there are two groups of women, those respected and possessed as virginal wives. And those who are concubines and prostitutes who are known to have sex with many partners, but aren't seen as babymakers, they're seen as sexual toys. Prospective wives have to be seen as pure because otherwise men's families are tainted, their kids may not even be their kids... and there's no way to tell in ancient Mesopotamia.

So now we have a black and white thinking. Either you're a virginal wife or you're a concubine, but there's nothing in between because if you have sex before marriage, you're not fit to be a wife and pure mother, therefore all you're really left with is being fit for sex. Also, we have possessiveness and jealousy. Men are very possessive and protective of their wives. My text goes on to say that "married women began to wear veils when they ventured beyond their own households to discourage the attention of men from other families." Men are used to controlling and protecting their babymakers. I'm sure emotions arise when men lose their "rights" to control and possess their babymakers, jealousy comes in.

Thousands of years later, mindsets are still survived, even if the times have changed. Men still have something ingrained in them. Women do too, in different areas. So, ingrained in men is the black and white mindset that women are either virginal wives, or if not, they must then be concubines. And also ingrained is the possessiveness and jealousy for girlfriends and wives. Men don't want their girlfriends to have had sex with anyone else in the past. Men are protective of women's socialization with other men. They're quick to see situations where they lose their possessiveness and protection of their women. They see and predict threats to their possessions very quickly.

I can't even remember what it was, I think it was Valley of the Dolls... in any case, some kind of book or tv show made the distinction that there are the women that men like to fuck and then the women that men like to settle down with. Even today, men still want two groups of women at their disposal. They want women who they can sleep with but not make babies with. And they want women who they can count on to keep the legitimacy of their families. You can't be both. You can't be pure and be a sexual object. So if you're not pure, you're automatically regarded as a sexual object, i.e. a slut.

Of course, this only makes sense if my history book is accurate. But if it is accurate, no wonder, even today that women aren't socially allowed to have many sexual partners.

I'm in a slightly gabby mood so let's see what I have to share...

The other day I was wore a skirt and boots to school. And I was in my sociology class, in our group, so our desks were turned together when I had an itch. lol not anywhere special. My skirt is about two inches above my knee and I brought it up about a centimeter more to scratch the itch on my thigh. And as I did it I looked at the guy across from me to see if he took notice, since he can see directly under my desk but he wasn't paying attention. So I was in the middle of asking a question and I turned to Mike and finished the question... and low and behold He was looking. I didn't think he could really see but I don't think he could see my lap, however my legs, he could apparently see.

He looked at them and then he looked up at me with his mouth open like he was going to answer my question but he paused and then said, what? Like he hadn't been listening, like he was distracted. I was surprised that he noticed, because of the position of his desk. But the first thought that occurred to me was that my legs don't look flattering when crossed. The underside of my calf, near my knee, that gets smooshed when my legs are crossed isn't really that pretty. Ugly, in my opinion. Probably seems silly but one has to keep her flaws hidden to feel publicly comfortable. C'est la vie. So I moved my legs because if he would take notice, I'd prefer him to take notice of my legs in a different position. And then I looked over at him and he was looking down again!

I didn't think my legs would be that interesting since I'd stopped scratching.. it almost seemed like he was intently looking at my boots, but I doubt that. Anyway, I thought it amusing. It could have been anything other than what it seemed to me, but I've never been the type of girl to make guys... I dunno drool, gawk. I definitely catch their attention, but they usually can keep cool. Mike was distracted... by me, I can only assume.

And he is SO sexy. But he doesn't have the cocky attitude you'd expect to go along with his looks. He bites his lip ring a lot, he plays with it. It sort of comes off as a nervous habit. It makes him seem very humble. It doesn't seem like a lot to go on but it was just an afterthought anyway.

He has the most gorgeous eyes. They're blue and I don't usually like blue but they're very dark and they have a lot of... texture? They're not clear, flawless blue. He's got the type of eyes that interest you when you look at them, you know? Like you want to keep looking because they're actually interesting to look at... he's just so yummy. And that day he was wearing a beanie and his outfit was sort of color coded. It matched in this way that just felt right. Like I looked at the outfit and it clicked the way my outfits click when I put them together. I think it was nearly that I wanted to wear the outfit because it was a hot outfit, not a female hot outfit but I don't usually wear female hot outfits anyway...

So that was the story I didn't write about a few days ago because I didn't want to hurt Dan.

But you know what I realized? I don't want to shield Dan from the truth either. I don't want to pretend like there's nothing further than Dan. Old habits can sneak back in an instant. Talking to Dan again is bringing back all the old habits, the old mindsets, the old patterns of my behavior. The unhealthy stuff that I have been very glad to get rid of. I don't regret being with Dan for that time, I don't regret anything I had to put up with. But when I moved on, it was a way of saying that I no longer found it necessary or enjoyable to live that life.

I don't want any of those old habits back. And they all stem from romance and dependency.

Truth is, the problem with long distance relationships is that you actually push away tangible reality for your conceptual reality. Dan would be a conceptual reality. He is no more than a concept. Our love is no more than a concept. We can't or rather, wouldn't be able to express through anything but words. We can't build a life together, we can't live together, we can't eat together, we can't sleep together, we can't play a board game together, we can't shop together, we can't watch a movie together, we can't kiss, we can't have sex, we can't see each other face to face. What kind of love does that leave? It leaves a somewhat inactive love. A conceptual love.

I think before Dan, I hadn't had any reality worth pursuing. I was pretty bored. And Dan pretty much opened up my heart again. Sort of reawakened my spirits a little bit. But I was dependent on him. And there wasn't much of him in my life. Honestly, so much of those six months was spent in my head, thinking about him. I was living our relationship in my head, in my mental concepts, in my hopes. Because there wasn't much else.

I like my life right now. I enjoy it a lot. I enjoy going to school. I enjoy talking to people. I enjoy making friends. I enjoy reading. I enjoy driving to school. I feel like I have a life that lets me blossom. This isn't uncommon, per se, for humans. But it has been uncommon for me ever since Mike and I broke up. So, the point is, I want to blossom. And being with Dan makes me retreat into my mind, into the reality that doesn't exist, hoping for a relationship that I really want but don't have.

I enjoy Dan a lot. When I have him in a tangible manner, on the telephone. His voice is tangible. And then I start to expand my fantasy and I think about all the wonderful things that I could have with him. And then I get hooked on those fantasies. Wishing they could be true. Dreaming they could be true. And I begin to ignore what can be true. Last semester, there wasn't anything really tempting anyway. Just Jeremiah and I gave him a try regardless.

This semester, I want to live. I don't want to be emotionally involved with Dan. I don't want to be attached to him. I don't want to be dependent on him. I don't want to miss him. I don't want to feel like I can't talk about a sexually attractive guy in my sociology class because that would hurt him. I don't owe him that. I don't owe him any commitment or loyalty.

And he just can't seem to want anything from me except all that. He doesn't want to just simply talk on the phone, he wants to be in love with me. I don't want to be in love with him. I care about him, but I'm not in love with him and I'm trying my damnedest to keep it from happening again. It won't benefit me at all. And I've tried not to engage in any of his attempts to suck me into his romantic and sexual snare. I can't tell him to stop because if I do, he won't give me anything. It's impossible for him to care about me enough to call me and talk to me, without romance. Love motivates him. Nothing else seems to. I enjoy him outside of love.

You think about John and Mike... guys who I loved, but didn't like. You know? When the love faded, there wasn't anything left. It's not like that with Dan. The love can fade and everything I loved about him is still there to be liked and enjoyed. It's not love that motivates me to enjoy him, love just gives it a little excitement. And I refuse to get hooked on that excitement because it will only torture me. It's a fantasy. I've got reality, with excitement at my fingertips. I can't mold my reality, I can create my life. With Dan as my life, I'm stuck. I'm just so very stuck. There's nothing I can do but play a passive, begging part. Wishing and hoping that things could be under my jurisdiction. But they won't be, not under these circumstances.

So, other news??? Well, I get to recite The Raven for my English class. Although she said she wouldn't make us do it in front of the whole class, she'd put us into small groups and make us recite our poems to each other. That's unfortunate... It won't be for a while though. But I'm happy to practice. I've really got all but three paragraphs memorized. Although I sometimes forget the order. Today I wrote down the first few words of each paragraph in order so that I could recite the stuff from my head but follow the list of paragraphs. I think the more I practice the more I'll be able to remember what follows what. And then I can memorize the last three paragraphs and I'm set.

We also get to write a poem but it's an ABC poem. Sort of limited because it's so short. I don't generally like poems but because I have to do this stuff, I'm sort of excited to see what I make of it. What my creativity will come up with, now that I'm forced to try. I wouldn't otherwise get this chance, since I'm not interested in writing poetry. Plus, my English class has given me a new light on literature and analysis. And even writing. So I like my literary perspective, as it's never been before.

My Western Civilization final is on Wed. I have to read the first eight chapters of my text. Lots of stuff to memorize but I have a system, once I get going it should be easy.

I'm hooked on gatorade. God, I love to drink it. I get hooked on liquids easily. It's just so damn refreshing to gulp down liquid. I love the feeling. It never lasts long cause how much liquid can you drink at once? And it goes down so damn fast. Mostly because I'm so eager for it. I crave it. A lot of the times I don't even like what I'm drinking. Just have to get it down. My grape juice isn't pleasing me very much lately and I bring gatorade to school with me, but lately I can't help but gulp it down at home. I could drink ten a day if I didn't have any self-restraint.

Alas, I do.

So I only drink two or three a day. :)

It's heaven.

A couple weeks ago I had a dream about this guy in my school. He works at the computer lab. He's a student but I guess he does the work/study thing. He's not caucasian. That sounds weird to say but I don't know what his ethnicity is. He's got black hair and dark eyes, sort of like he's Middle Eastern but he also seems a little Spanish. I don't know... anyway, he has this very mature vibe. Mostly because I first noticed him last semester when he was working at the computer lab. He gave me a brownie one time. I was there late and he had some left so he went around asking people if they wanted one. I like him. I don't know him but that mature thing makes me like him.

So the dream was weird. I can't quite remember it. He was the person in it but sometimes in dreams one character is two people you know... and the other person that he kind of seemed like was Mike, Jenny's brother, from Utah. Or perhaps it took place in Utah so that's what makes me think it's him. It reminded me of them both... Anyway, he was a vampire. And I think it had sex in it. I don't know that I actually had sex, but there was something sexual. Maybe I only got as far as taking off my clothes or something. I really can't remember any more than that. I don't know what the deal with the vampire thing was... Kind of reminds me of Merrick. More than a little bit, actually. Same theme, I suppose.

I seem him around a lot. The other day he held the door for me. I liked it because it fit his personality so when I said thanks I said it earnestly almost like saying, "thanks for being you". Although, truth be told he could be a total psycho. And then another day I nearly hit him. Well he was stopped, ready to pull out onto the main road. I was pulling in from the main road. Our paths wouldn't cross. But when I saw him I got a tad distracted and I didn't slow down enough so when I turned it was a pretty crappy turn, I didn't get close to hitting his car but I did end up going into a lot of his lane past his car... I was a little embarrassed because he probably saw me and recognized me... and saw my crazy driving. :(

He's probably kind of old. Like Dan old? Probably younger than that. What I mean to say is that it's funny I call him old like he's too old for me because most people who are too old for me are still younger than Dan. ha.

Anyway, I think I'm done gabbing. My body is kind of sore and wants to relax. I think I was tense from watching Remington Steele. God Pierce Brosnan is soooooooooooooooooo sexy. He turns me on lots. And I like the girl too. Not sexually, I just admire her. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep though...

Rob... the guy I left off the 117 to, but then gave him the right screen name later on, just asked me if I wanted to hang out. He said it didn't have to be a date if I didn't want it to be. And I told him I prefered it not be a date. I'm not the dating type.

He's okay... but I don't like his voice. It's very weak. The other night I was thinking about his voice and I was like bleh... and then I thought about Dan's voice. It's so much... pleasanter than Rob's voice. Rob's voice irritates me. That's why I sent the text to Dan saying I missed his voice.

Now that Rob is becoming my friend I'm beginning to get minor bothered feelings. How do I find a good reason to be friends with someone when I don't want to be friends with them?

I feel sad for all the people that repulse me. It's hard to discern what people mean to me. Because I'm so turned off to getting close to people in general. There are a lot of people I enjoy at a distance but I panic as soon as they become interested in me. Like I suddenly feel like my space is being taken from me.

Call me superficial. But life would be so much easier if sexy people went after me. I think even if I can't emotionally give very many people anything, I still enjoy the superficial attentions of sexy people. Like James. I like flirting with them. So I think I would find it easier to be around people I was attracted to. Whereas, if I'm not attracted to them, and I feel the walls closing in on me when they're around, it doesn't help that I'm also bothered by their attentions because they're not aesthetically pleasing. I mean, I would never feel the walls closing in on me by hanging out with Mike. Although Chandler was pretty cute and I didn't let him kiss me. But he made me feel a little uncomfortable. His personality didn't put me at ease.

I want to hang out with Mike. He's always hanging out with that girl from my Western Civilizations class. She glares a lot. I may have said this before. Mike is beautiful. VERY aesthetically pleasing I tell you. Although I don't feel beautiful enough for him. All the guys I've dated have been very average looking. None of them have been very hunky. I think my ex Mike could have been but he had some quirky flaws that kept him from completing the look. Anyway my point is, I wonder if I could even handle having a hunky boyfriend. I'm a pretty average looking girl. Nothing spectacular. I think it would be hard for me to feel like I deserve to be with someone hunky. You know? I guess I'm just intimidated, to put it simply, by very sexy guys.

And truth is not possessed by me, therefore it doesn't represent me. I can't brag about truth because it isn't necessarily personal. To be sure, truth can be interpreted, understood and applied subjectively. And that's not a bad thing. But to a certain degree, there's an objectivity in the origins of truth. I don't like to think I create reality, only my interpretation of it.

I think Amelia once was impressed of my opinion on something we were talking about in class. And my opinions are often impressive, in all honesty. Because they have a lot of concentration and depth. But to make my observations, with my own hint of subjectivity, isn't a reflection of my own genius because all I've done is seen

Well, I Withdrew from my French class. :)

And it was an initiation for me because the Masters were telling me that I needed to stay in the class to learn French because it was important for my future. But I knew that it wasn't right for me to stay in the class, although I can't dispute learning French in general because I really want to learn French. But I passed the test, since regardless of being told to stay in the class I knew I wanted to leave.

Oddly though, I'm belittling my own feelings when it all comes to mind. I was really happy when the woman told me that it wouldn't effect my GPA. lol. Most people, as Amelia did last semester, withdraw before the class is through because if they fail it will be on their transcript but if they withdraw it will only show as a withdrawn course, instead of a failed course. And I keep thinking about my B on my test, proving that although I would definitely not fail the course, that I would not do as well as I do in all my other classes. Because regardless of if I enjoy the classes or not, I do very well. A's are my grade range.

So it felt to me like pride. Because I when I have trouble in a class the first thing that comes to my is my GPA. It's a pride thing. Something to show off.

So it's silly of me, and this is how I'm belittling my feelings, to withdraw simply because a B isn't good enough for me. But maybe the B is symbolic or a metaphor or some various literary term that means that the B represented the environment in which I didn't want to learn.

Meaning, I got the B unconsciously on purpose. All the other courses, regardless of what it took, I intended to get an A. And so I did. French was not too difficult for me. I won't belittle my ability. But my will was not in it.... probably for reasons I'm not fully aware of. I think the GPA represents my choice. It's pride about my ability to pass but one thing is sure, there is a difference between failing because you didn't want to pass and failing because you couldn't pass. I've never been the latter. And getting a high GPA is my proof that I Chose to pass. And that I kept it up. It's a steady process, to get a good GPA. Getting a lower grade wasn't necessarily proof of my lack of ability, but it was proof that I chose not to do as well, although I would have still passed, I'd like to think.

There are a lot of obvious reasons that I didn't want to do it, and surely some abstract reasons. The environment was too forced and structured to appease my free soul, I suppose. God knows I love to learn. But I also like to choose what I learn. And the government tries to take away our right to do that, by putting us in public school with a core curriculum and the structure that gives us tests and grades and forces us to pass or stay there until we do.

The American school system is really lacking in good sense. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that there are many better school systems in the world. And maybe they have their problems too....

Doubt is one of those parallel concepts. There's a fine line between confidence and cockiness. But to humble yourself from cockiness does not mean that you should allow yourself to be doubted. I guess the difference is in motivation. What makes someone cocky is that they Want to be Right because of pride. So they don't wish to be true, they merely wish to have a prideful superiority.

As I began to ease my ego's perception on my own right and wrong behavior, I came to the problem of knowing the difference between being right in a cocky manner and being right in a confident manner. A lot of people, Stephanie Stogner comes to mind, like to tell me that I'm negatively being confident. That I stick to my own opinions in a stuck up manner, like I won't listen to anyone else. But that's not so.

To oppose cockiness, what do you have to do? Always wait for approbation or someone to approve of your beliefs? To always wonder, in fear and doubt if you're wrong about what you believe? That's not strength and it's not power. To believe in your confidence to the point where you refuse to admit you're wrong when you are very obviously wrong, is not much worse than not being able to listen to your inner belief systems, which tell you what is right and wrong for yourself.

There has to be a balance. Where you can trust yourself, but be open to change. And that's the fine line. If you wish only to be right and not true, then you'll lie to yourself and to others because it's easier to believe that you're true than to find real truth. It's a lot longer road to search for real truth. I don't wish to be right. Stephanie thinks I do because she's projecting her own wishes. I wish to be true. To myself more than anybody. And if my goal is to be true, not right, then I don't hang on to my opinions because I want to believe that everything I say is right. I merely hang on to what I believe is true, which is not motivated by pride. It's motivated by my perception of what truth is. And no one can tell me what to believe is true.

Do you see how fine a line it is?

If it's at all possible, I'm going to drop French. Oui, I'm definitely and officially against the class. And I no longer wish to submit myself to that which I don't enjoy. Rather, I have no good reason to. And I see no productiveness in staying, only irritation. Apparently, it's important for me to learn French. But also, apparently, it's not worthwhile to do it in this atmosphere.

Now, I don't want to get my hopes up and then have to stay in the class because of some dumb technicality... But with good fortune, I'll be able to drop it.

My teacher was really grumpy today and we met walking in the hall towards class, so she asked me why I had failed to take the test on Monday. And then she told me to hang back and talk to her, so I did an abrupt about-face and walked at her pace. I was very pleasant, to be sure. But she apparently wanted to take her pas mal day out on me. So she asked why I hadn't emailed her and by George, it had completely slipped my mind. I remember even thinking that if I ended up missing a Forensic Science class it would behoove me to call the professor. But I didn't even bother to inform the other three on Monday, cause it simply slipped my mind. If it hadn't slipped my mind, even if I hadn't wanted to do it, it would have given me guilt so much so that I would have at least thought of it repeatedly. But it didn't occur to me until she suggested it after the fact.

So I told her about being with Isis. She didn't really seem to like it. A little snotty about it, I think. Like her French test was more important than my precious, coveted niece. And that, I disagree with, naturally. So I walked in the classroom before her and walked to my desk and set my bag down. And she got huffy because she was in the middle of telling me about where I would make up the test so it was apparently rude for me to turn my back on her. But we were talking and walking and I didn't intend to walk backwards nor stop at the door and have a little chat when my ears didn't seem to mind listening either backwards or forwards.

So she actually told me in a monotone voice, almost like I didn't realize her point until the end of the sentence because I couldn't detect anything in the tone... that it was rude for me to turn my back on her and such. And I was like um "okaaaay, I'm just setting down my bag." The fire didn't burn in me, as when I'm myself huffy... I was honestly pretty agreeable so I didn't predict the answer, nor could I even properly reply in a self-righteous tone. I think she realized it was unmerited because she left to make copies of the homework and when she came back she didn't have the same hostility towards me. Although when she asked me why I hadn't done the lab thing she looked at me with hostile eyes. And that was it.

All through class I kept going over it in my mind so that it made me hostile, so by the time class ended she asked in a pleasant tone, as I had given her in the very first place, if I even cared about my test. And all my replies were short, curt, and angry. We switched places.

Apparently there is some slight resistance to dropping out of the class... within myself and possibly with the school. But I'm so for it. There isn't a single agreeable thing about the class.

There's lots of boring homework.
The tests suck and it's unrewarding to get Bs.
She harasses us in class to answer her questions, even when we refuse. And I don't think it should be her decision what comes out of my damn mouth, whenever she pleases.
She's obviously old-fashioned in her ideas of authority dominating over children. Which I disagree with.
We have to spend the whole period reciting on cue the answers to her questions, which is tiresome and it invades my much needed personal space.
Her tests are at inappropriate times. Isis's birthday and Halloween.
And I feel a personal resistance to even learning the subject because I'm being pressured in ways that I won't conform to.

All in all. The homework sucks. The class period sucks. The teacher sucks. The tests suck. The timing sucks. And the subject matter sucks, when taught in that manner. I am passionate about French... but I've already done two years of it in high school. Just like this. It's fruitless. And it's an elective. I chose this particular class.

And every time I have a resolve to enjoy it, the same things keep bogging me down. In the past, regardless of the small problems I've had, except at the end of the semester with Figure Drawing, I haven't wanted to stop any of my classes. I could rationally accept what was given to me within my classes. But I feel a lot of resistance this time. And I'm so eager to get it out of the way. Dropping out would be a blessing.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Blak. We'll see.

Well, I skipped three classes today. Including my French test.... I baked Isis a yummy cake. And she was pretty grumpy but she was happily surprised to be given all the attention, as when we sang to her. And then she ate the slice of cake herself. Green frosting, naturally.

I'm ready to relax. I have a day or so before I have to worry about my French test. I still don't know the stuff... poo.

As I told Rob, [22:27] IAMSpartacus117: I love the French language. I just hate being forced to learn it.

And it's so. Today I have important things to do for French. And I'm torn between wanting to skip it and make it up, and wanting to get it over with. I don't want to do it. I don't want to do it because I don't want to work as hard as I have to work to make the A. I love the French language but I don't want to be forced to learn it. I thought things weren't like my high school French class until the last test I took, I guess. Because even the scoring was the same. It's wearisome. I curse myself for putting this damn class on my schedule. I think we've definitely passed the deadline for giving up the course. Although I'm not losing my money by dropping out, I'm losing the governments money. Blah.

And a happy birthday to Isis. And Madigan, James's little sister.

That was the most devestatingly depressing story, ever. I swear it. If possible, the last chapter was more depressing than all the others. No matter what diseases and losses and suicide attempts came along, nothing was more devestating than the betrayal and the jealousy and the suspense that Anne had to go through. And feeling it for was eating away at my stomach. I just wanted to rush through the end as soon as possible, just to get it over with.

The power went out so I was kind of stuck. heh. Luckily the power turned back on by the time it got dark.

Not one single day with Dan was as hard as that half an hour of reading that book. I never felt that jealousy for Dan and Jen. Not once. I lost that jealousy with Mike? Yeah. I felt it with Mike. But the jealousy comes from insecurity. From losing power. You feel like your love for and with someone gives you power and strength and vibrancy, and then you feel it slipping away. The power is in someone elses's hands, some other women's hands who is assuredly more attractive in some way or another to your husband (or boyfriend) than you are.

I like to be the other woman. I never had Dan so I couldn't ever lose him. I couldn't ever feel that power being taken from me.

Her God damn vision of life is terrible. Of love, of happiness, of looks, of health, of freedom, of money, of self-worth, of the years that go by... I hate it. I disagree with it. I disagree with her portrayal of life. It's so sad.

I never want to feel jealousy again. It's such a God awful feeling. Of course, jealousy is intimately tied to love because love is always in danger of being lost. But my heartbreaks since Mike haven't been infused with this jealous feeling. This feeling in my stomach that still isn't gone even though the book is done. Torture. I mean I had bad heartbreaks with Dan and a bit with John but I guess I didn't have this fear. This fear of what would happen without them? Like I was sorry to lose them but I knew that if it was inevitable, I had a future to look forward to. I didn't have a dependency on them. And that's partly because I wasn't dating either of them. I was with Mike and when we broke up, part of my life was destroyed. And that's always upsetting. To build a life with someone and then have it taken away in a fit of betrayal.

I'm kind of resigned. Right now. To never have that. I don't even know why I feel I have to pronounce it because God knows it's never going to happen whether I'm resigned or not. She is so bitter. So bitter against humanity. And the thing is, even if you're a rare good streak, the truth is, you're going to be destroyed by all the other humanity you have to deal with. You know what I mean? We're so intertwined, families, friends, coworkers, lovers... To be good isn't good enough because all it takes is one bad counterperson in the equation.

Enough.

I just need to be released from this emotion I'm carrying. From the book.

The sun is out. It hasn't been out for about six days. No joke. It's really been missing. It's been raining each day, but even when it wasn't raining, the clouds were hanging around thickly. I didn't mind it. It's beginning to be fall. It's dreadful. As long as the green is fading away, I might as well have it cold and dreary, but not so with rain. It's like a cold and dreary that I don't mind. Rain just doesn't make me unhappy. I told my friend, ha, she's my friend, Nikki a bunch of stuff about the rain. Like we were complaining that it was raining out.

But the only reason I did that is because my windshield wipers suck and I didn't want to walk to the parking lot with my books unexposed. Plus, I wasn't wearing my rain boots, I was wearing my snow boots. I suppose when I think about it they can stand to get wet if they're snow boots. But they're showey snow boots. Not durable. So I was hesitant about walking in the rain with them. And when I got in my car I realized that I may have sounded like someone who doesn't like rain. I may have to tell her how much that isn't true. I have to correctly represent myself.

I was just thinking that I should buy that mummy costume, it's all white, and I should dye it bright yellow and be a sun goddess. :) I was considering that the only two outfits I've picked out so far is the white mummy outfit and the pink and gray viking outfit. Those are seriously my three least favorite colors. But they both look good on me. But I don't feel them. I don't want to be some average costume character. Some random costume character. I want to be something that's witty. Daphne was witty. Because I love Scooby-Doo so much and I looked so much like her. Although not a single person know what I was just by looking at me. But anyway... I don't know. But if I'm going to spend $30, it may as well be something good.

Valley of the Dolls is so depressing. I knew that, of course. Because I saw the movie first. All my books I've seen the movie first!!! I have this whole list and probably 80% of them have been made into movies. Like I saw the movie Valley of the Dolls before I'd heard of the book. Then I checked out the book and read half of it, last year. So now I'm rereading it. And then I plan to watch the movie again. :) Maybe. That's what I'm doing with Emma and Pride & Prejudice. I saw both movies, a couple years ago. Then I read the books. Now I'm rewatching the movies.

Of my list of books that have been made into movies that I've watched there are: Gia, Lord of the Rings, Eragon, Marie Antoinette-The Journey, Queen of the Damned, Les Miserables, Dracula, The Count of Monte Cristo, Vanity Fair, Little Women, The Three Musketeers, Treasure Island, A Little Princess, Jeeves and Wooster, The Jungle Book, The Secret Garden, The Phantom of the Opera, Winnie the Pooh, The Mists of Avalon, and Daniel Deronda. Plus Emma, Pride & Prejudice and Valley of the Dolls.

Every single one of those I've seen the movie before I read the book. Although, I have to say that I read the first three pages of Lord of the Rings before the movies came out. :) I couldn't hold my interest though. The thing is, most of them are classics or if not classics then at least classically known, like The Jungle Book. I think Lindstrom read that in 9th grade. I've tried to read most of these unsuccessfully. I've picked up and put down shortly after or simply just checked out and never opened up Gia, Lord of the Rings, Marie Antoinette, Queen of the Damned, Les Miserables, Jeeves and Wooster, The Secret Garden when I was like 7, The Phantom of the Opera, Winnie the Pooh, Valley of the Dolls and The Mists of Avalon. So I'm making an effort here. To read all these books that have been on my list.

I didn't mean to choose books that I'd seen the movies of. But the thing is, I chose books that I was familiar with because I wanted to be interested in them. I didn't want to sift through books that I was unsure about. Especially classics. So since I'd seen all of the movies, I at least knew the general story, and liked it. It was unconsciously done. I tried reading Wuthering Heights. I hate that book. I also noticed that many of my books were written by female authors. I'm tempted to put Jane Eyre and Anne of Avonlea on my list. Naturally I've seen those movies and tried to read both books afterwards. But Jane Eyre always upsets me. It has a very depressing story and I know that the book will be ten times more indepth and more depressing and I just can't go headlong into a story that will take a long time to read and will really affect me badly. The movie hits me deep. I can still feel the leftover vibration of it -from May. Anne of Avonlea isort of a series though. Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. My mom read them when she was young.

One of these days I'm going to have to attempt to read some of the Agatha Christie or Mary Higgens Clark mysteries. As well as Sherlock Holmes. I guess they're all adult mysteries. I mean, I read The Babysitters Club and Nancy Drew... I read the good stuff. It always surprised me that I never read the classic mysteries. Although I do have a Sherlock Holmes on my list. We used to have it when I was younger but it looked scary. Maybe that's why I didn't read mysteries. I loved them, but I didn't want to be constantly scared... who knows.

I have, of course, seen many BBC Productions of Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes. Ha.

I have 41 books so far. And you'd think I'd be crossing books off the list as I finish them but no such thing, I'm only adding more as I go. Doubling the list every once in a while. If I really wanted to get intense I could go to some of my previous lists. I've made A LOT of book lists in my lifetime. I have one particular "classics" list that I made in Sweden... But this time I've actually put some time in. I've only read about six so far but I read like two or three hours a day. I'm getting good at being patient. I'm often not patient with books, no matter how much I love them.

I used to have 9 days for each book I had on my list so that I could finish them all by the end of the year. And when I added more books, I knew it didn't matter because if I read enough I could finish each book within a few days. But now I've just got way too many. There's no way I could read 40 books in 90 days because a lot of these are big. Plus, I really want to enjoy some of them and to dissolve them in one Saturday is sad. Even if it means I get to dissolve many. I have my whole life ahead of me... Plus I'm balancing this with school and homework and all the seasons of tv shows that I spend a lot of time watching... and I like to get a lot of sleep and spend time with my niece. No, it's not worth it to try that hard.

So we'll see if this even lasts throughout November. I usually get bored within a couple months of intense reading. I not only have book lists of what I want to read but I have books lists of all that I've read. From 9th grade on, although I've misplaced the lists. I have so many papers. But when I find them I'll have nearly every book I've read in the past five years. And all of them have been read in phases. I get in phases where I read 20 books and then I give up for the next nine months. And then read twenty more. And then give up again. It's just my constant battle between the love for books and the love for life.

Anyway, I better get reading. And studying for my French test. And going to Walmart to buy ingredients for Isis's birthday cake. That requires a shower and some make up. Aww :( I hate getting pretty on weekends. Such a drag. Hmm...

I want to go back to sleep and have a trillion more crazy dreams....

I mostly just want to go back to sleep. I'm unenthusiastic about today.

I think one of the reasons is that when my parents go to London, Isis will have no babysitter and Amelia doesn't want to resort to Anthony, who would only get his mom or someone anyway... so I have to skip a bunch of classes.

I mean, I honestly don't have to. But I want to for Isis. She's more important to me than a couple hours on a day I'll never remember. Unless Isis walks, then I'll be there to see it and cherish it.

But Amelia doesn't want to make any sacrifices. Her classes are apparently intensely important. She can't miss one class the entire semester. But I really don't want to miss Sociology. I have to miss it twice in one week. Plus I'm skipping it for Isis's birthday because we're only finishing a movie that I can rent or something. That's three a semester and that begins to affect my grade.

I only have to miss French once. And Western Civilization doesn't count attendance but the week my parents are gone I have an important midterm. That's the only time we absolutely need a babysitter, since every other time I'm just skipping my classes. And Amelia "can't". I don't have to miss any Forensic Science, which is great. Cause labs are fun and can't be made up another time, and I think I have a test that week for my lecture. I might have a Sociology test too, I'm not sure yet. But that can be made up.

I have a test in French on Halloween. Normally, this wouldn't bother me, except it's from 4:30-6! That's exactly when people around here trick or treat. The cops kick everyone off the streets who's under 18 by like 5 or 6. And most parents who have kids go early and leave early anyway.

There's always got to be one class that incurs my wrath, doesn't there. But at least tests can be made up. That will be the third time I've tried to skip French for Isis. Twice, there was a test. She has great timing.

I'm friends with someone named Mike in three of my classes. There's the sexy Mike in my Sociology assigned group. There's the Mike who I've worked with a couple times in my Forensic Science lab. And there's the adult Mike in my English class who seems to have taken an appreciation for me. Although I have had my share of inappropriate suiters, I don't think that's Mike's logic. I'm just a pretty girl and guys aren't supposed to be friends with girls they're supposed to want to have sex with them, so I jump to that conclusion easily.

In any case, I really didn't like him in the beginning, he was annoying. And then Amelia started liking him. Not sexually, she just found him very smart and interesting. And I think maybe he finds me smart and interesting. Cause I am. :) But he's talked to me a couple times in class and then today he was really going out of his way to make eye contact with me and talk to me directly. He pretty much had to lean around Amelia to see me every time and we watched Bernice Bobs Her Hair, so, naturally, Mike asked me if I was going to bob my hair, which I told him I am most definitely never going to do. And he said that he thought long hair made a better feminine statement than bobbing hair. And since Amelia likes him she's talked to him a little in class, but she walked out of the door in front of me and I didn't hear him say bye to her but when I passed him he said bye to me. Plus, our teacher is so sweet so she bought those little bags of already made popcorn, and when I went to sit in my desk, passing Mike and the popcorn bag, he gave me the one he'd taken out for himself, and he stuck his hand back in to grab his own.

My guess is as good as yours. But both of us do often share our opinions on the stories we analyze in class. And last class period I had my teacher read my rough draft of my report on a particular short story. He's doing the same short story and when I was telling the teacher about how much I'd enjoyed the writing of the author, he said it was interesting to hear me say that because he had the exact opposite opinion and he might have overheard what the teacher and I talked about. Because she liked my draft. Most people had hand-written half written drafts but mine was typed up and pretty much done. It didn't need any work. It was thorough, only supposed to be about two and a half pages with 12 font but mine was three and a half with 11 font. I added some quotes from the story which as a final report made it five pages with 11 font. But she said she didn't mind the length.

Anyway, so whatever it is that interests him about me, my guess is that it would be my intelligence that intrigues him. He does get intrigued by many things. And he did comment that in our text there's a sample report of a college student... who he said wrote beyond her age, he was impressed with the sample. And that's what my teacher said about my paper, she said, Well I didn't write like this in my freshman year of college. And they should remember that I'm 17, cause I announced it that one time.

So I think I'm going to take a different way home. Maybe change the way home each day. Cause for the past 30 times I've gone back and forth to school I've taken the exact same route. And frankly, I'm tired of being behind slow people, truly. I am absolutely obsessed with the speed of the people in front of me. I'm not laid back at all. And I grumble about everything. A bit of road rage. But let me paint the picture for you and you'll forgive me.

See, the first thing that prompts me to have a need for speed is the exhilaration of the acceleration. There's something about the speed that makes my soul soar. To be immobile, to not be able to walk very fast or to run and bike riding is work as well... and then to have a car that can take you to 80mph, respectively... it's amazing. It just makes you feel free. And there isn't a lot of traffic on the road I take. I pass someone going the opposite way every few minutes and the only time I'm near someone is when they're going 15 under the speed limit in a no passing zone, so I'm stuck. Otherwise we're usually distanced. And my car is noisy so when I press on the acceleration, you can hear it. You can hear the engine work, you can feel the speed. It's not like you're floating on a cloud, the way it is in nice cars, that have no sound and the like. So every time I speed up, going five, sometimes seven, and lately ten over the speed limit, I feel my soul go "yesssss."

Until I'm stuck behind a car. Who is going 15 under the speed limit in a no passing zone. My mom always passes people so she can go 70. Sometimes she even passes in the same no passing zones that take away my freedom at least three or four times a week. And I always gave her crap about it. I used to say, "well maybe they don't want to die today." But she said it wasn't her personality to go the speed of someone else, she liked to set her own pace, which is, of course, very fast. And I find that I completely agree. To be boxed in, staring at the behind of someone else taking their own sweet time, completely ignoring the fact that they're affecting someone else's life, that they're restraining someone else... it's tormenting. I get in my car to and from school and I can't wait to press on the acceleration and fly off. And I can't.

I swear at least three times a week I'm behind someone slow. The first section is okay because there are a lot of oppportunities to pass them. And I take those opportunities. But then there's Athens, which is 30mph for a few minutes... and someone always turns in in front of me and I'm screwed because from Athens to Catskill everybody goes 45. Sometimes 30 if they're really stupid. Sometimes 50, which in a 55 isn't excrutiating but is still disagreeable since I usually go 60. The problem is, there are some fiesty turns. And to be honest, you get up to 55 when it's straight and then you have make tight turns that are not comfortable unless you break to 45. You can still make it at 55, but it works your car. And if you're not in a hurry and you want to be kind to your car, I can understand that you'd want to go 45 around those corners. There are two main ones. And then it's fairly straight for a while although you go up and down hills. Which is the other problem.

See, if you go 55 and then you slow down to 45 around the corners, and then speed up to 55 between turns, and then go back down to 45 around the next turn, and then back to 55.... well, you fluctuate a lot. And directly after the first turn is a hill. So you're working your engine because you're going up hill AND you're trying to gain speed. There's almost no point. Why not just stay at 45? Unless you want to work your car every day, and I don't blame those who don't. I do, but, I'm cruel and unusual. But after those first two turns, honestly, it's not a problem to go 55. Especially on the way back because you're going down hill. I barely slow down at all. And I sometimes wonder if it's these peoples' first times. Do they not know the road, and what to expect? Do they not realize that it's okay to actually go the speed limit? I don't know. But it's only a few minutes and then the speed goes down to 40, because there are more houses.

It's almost funny, because these people are going 45 in the 55 and I'm mad, but then we get to 40 and we're already going the right speed. I'm happy that the speed changes because I won't go 50 in that 40mph zone. So I rarely have anything to worry about. Everybody goes the same speed as me. It's only that first half that really aggravates me to death. But to be honest, it's that box thing that really gets to me. When I'm driving home, and there's no one in front or behind me, I sometimes find myself going 50 in the 55mph zone. I'm relaxed and I'm cruising along. Just in the area before Athens. After Athens I do my acceleration because it's straight and free. But I find it comical when I glance down at my speedometer and find myself at 50, when I'm so often bitching about all the people in front of me going 50... However, I don't like to put others through what I'm put through. So I rarely go under the speed limit if someone is behind me. Not that it ever seems to be a problem. Cause everybody but me goes slow.

The other day I was going great and this asshole pulls out in front of me, which, at my speed, wouldn't have been a big deal to wait, I had to slow down after he pulled out. But not only that.... this asshole behind him pulls out too. It was rushed, believe me. And I was like MAN, it was going so good. This was around the area where you can pass but sort of in an awkward place where by the time you could pass it really wasn't worth it, but I also had a problem because it's difficult to pass two cars at once. These guys were butt buddies. They were both going like 5 under and I was just so mad.

Only every once in a while do I get someone who speeds off in front of me... going at least 65 in a 55. I don't try to keep up. That happened last week. I've probably got two people who sped ahead of me. In six or seven weeks. Shoot me.

To be honest, this isn't enough to stress me out. Up until driving alone I didn't care about the speed at all. I always went about two under or two over. But as soon as I got my license I started driving to school. And I'm always on a tight schedule. Nearly late. Especially on Mondays and Weds. But the past week I've been nearly late on Tuesdays and Thursdays as well. So the first two weeks of school I was bound to be five minutes late and there are these assholes going 15 under in front of me and I'm like DUDE I HAVE TO GO. I leave at noon to go to school but my class doesn't start until 12:45. It takes an average of 20 minutes to get there. My mom gets there in about 15. I leave 25 minutes early because with the slow people lagging me and the five minutes it takes to park and walk to class - which I never had to do last semester because my parents always dropped me off at the front of the building. ,)

So, ordinarily, I might not even stress over these people. But I need to because I count on setting my own pace so that I can get to school on time. I know that even if I leave a few minutes late, I can make it if I go my speed. And then I can't. So I'm boxed in and forced to be late.

But still... leaving early as I try to and also on the way back home when I don't have a time limit... I shouldn't really obsess over these things as I do. I mean, I create these personalities each day. I talk to the behinds of these cars and their imaginary people. Not knowing what gender, age or race these people are. Often I imagine them to be about 60, white, female... cause they go slow, naturally. But I'm sure that most often it's not. And yet I give these people a sort of vibration, an identity for the purposes of my conversation with them. And then I talk to them. When they go under the speed limit but they're pulling something I say, "well, I understand" out loud. And when they do something stupid or cross the line when they turn or whatnot, I make various comments of disappointment and aggravation. I'm always talking to them, analyzing their driving, obsessing.

But honestly, that's because of my car situation. Firstly, I've never driven alone up until school started. I didn't have my license so every single time I drove I had someone to at least talk to, or notice. It's almost like I didn't pay very much attention to the external world because I was always hyper-aware of the internal world, inside the car. That's why I drive so badly when I'm with Amelia. I'm always concentrating so hard on talking to her about things that I'm pretty much driving blindly, not actively paying attention to very much at all. It's very ditsy of me.

So, I mean, you see what I mean... I'm bored. I have no one to talk to. I talk to myself, of course. But I'm forced to talk to the other people, who for so very many reasons, stick out to me in the first place. AND if you still don't think I've got good reason to obsess over them... you also have to understand that I have no music. My radio works but most of the stations are fuzzy except these two positively horrific stations for oldies that have no a single awesome oldies. Oldies but goodies? I don't think so, not on these two stations. All the others are fuzzy. Plus, I have no tape player. So I can't listen to books on tape or les miserables, nor can I plug in an ipod or a discman so that I can listen to cds or mp3s or ANYTHING. The absolute only choice I have is to plug my own stereo into the cigarette burner thing. Which can be done but then the sound comes out of the small stereo instead of the car stereo and then I can't put my books there like I usually do, and then I have to leave a stereo in my car to provoke someone to break into it and steal it. Even though I lock my doors.

So I mean. What choice do I have?

So back to my first line. I think I'm going to take a new route home. I'm sick of the same old scenes. So drab. Getting draber from fall and soon winter. Ugly as hell. Boring as hell. And stressful too. So I originally thought I only had two choices. To go on 385 but that takes me through Athens at 30mph. Or go through Coxsackie at 30mph and then on 9W. It leads me to the bridge all the same, even though I have to trace myself backwards, which will take up time. And I figured since I have to go through a town on each route, it still sucks. So I haven't done that. Although it just barely occurred to me that on the way home I can take 9W because I'm not pressed for time and I know that if I go straight instead of turn to go on 385, the road will later give me a place to turn to go to 9W.

Ha. Today I did that and when it said Coxsackie Next Left, I didn't turn. It was brilliant. It's just that when the turn came up it said Albany. But that's because you go through Coxsackie to get to Albany. So next time I'll take that. This time I just took the Catskill exit and turned around and headed on 9W home, like I do when I go to Walmart after school. Which, you see, is what I thought I had to do, originally. I thought that to go to school from 9W that I would have to go through Catskill which is really an extra ten minutes out of my way. But then I realized that I could take another road to the bridge.

But then as I was going home today on 9W I realized that there were several turns that would lead me on the back roads to Coxsackie. They're unmarked roads so we're pretty much free and there are very few people who go on them. They're back roads, afterall. And that bypasses Coxsackie because I'm right on the road that comes out of these back roads. There are two ways, I don't know which one to take because last time I went I got lost lol, but I know the way Amelia goes... so maybe I should take that way. That comes out on 9W, then I can find the road that takes me to the bridge instead of through Catskill and that will be one fine way to go. And if I get bored of that, there's always the second road. Then I won't have to go through any of the towns with their boring village speed limits.

So maybe today when I go back for my 6pm class, I can take some of these snazzy roads instead of the same old thing. I have to time it and adjust when I leave if it takes slower time. It's likely to. I've found that no matter the speed, even 15 under, to go straight will always get you there faster than to go around at a faster speed. I've tried and failed.

Anyway, I could babble on but we'll leave it at that because I'm going to go feed Isis and get some food for myself before I go back to class.

Damnet. You know, every single damn day, often while I'm driving, I think of all the things I want to write a journal entry about. I write paragraphs in my head, if you will, which I've always done. but I store them on an imaginary page for later when I'll type it up for real.

But lately, obviously, since I've made very little entries... I get home and I don't want to sit down and write them out. Like there's no relevance. Like I'm not dying to share my thoughts with anyone. I guess I don't really have anyone to share them with. I'm not entirely sure why. I mean the obvious answer is that nobody but Dan has this blog link.

And I don't know why that feeling is gone, the urge to share things with him. I may have let something go... some need to be relevant to him, maybe? Almost like, I can now keep my own space, live in my own bubble, without trying to show him my life. I always wanted to show him my life.

It may have just been the adjustment with James. Cause James doesn't really care about my life. I tell him all about it but I do it in a very casual and slightly amusing way, because I know that nothing I say is important to him. I tell him so, so many things but they're all very simple. And I get this school-girl excitement for them and he sympathizes or shares my enthusiasm and it's a bit of a game.

Although lately when I've said my serious words he's claimed to "know what I mean" like he understands the seriousness but who knows.

He hasn't been talking to me. I've left him like maybe three or four myspace comments. Two texts. And two of those comments were inviting him to come hang out with me. He didn't answer a single one. He used to do this all the time with me. Ignore me. A lot. But these past few months he's given me so much attention. And he's do it and my eyes would be wide with surprise cause I'm just so used to him ignoring me.

I've never known why cause if I ask he'll probably just ignore me. And it used to frustrate me so at one point we stopped talking for six months... then we saw each other at Heather's birthday party and eventually I added him back to my myspace and aim and stuff and this time he answered me back and he invited himself over to my house at least 20 times in the past few months. He used to always make playdates with me and then not show up and not tell me he wasn't going to show up. He's only done it once this summer and when he did, he told me afterwards that he maybe should have told me that he couldn't make it, instead of just leaving me stranded....

So I haven't seen him in like two and a half weeks. He's not on aim often but the last three or four times I ignored him. I've got nothing to say, you know? I'm always begging for his attention. I'm always leaving comments that say things that make it seem like it's okay that he ignores me. Like I left a comment telling him about csi but he didn't respond so I assumed he didn't want to come over. And then the next time csi came in I said, well I guess there's no point in telling you that the sixth season is in. And naturally he didn't respond.

And I used to do this so much. I used to always make it casual that he ignored me. Always act like it didn't bother me, although it obviously did because who wouldn't be bothered by the way he treats me? And that's the thing, I don't want to go through that again. It's like, I feel that the reason he ignores me is because I'm needy and he wants his space.

Cause we've always been friends but I have always treated us like we're on the verge of more than friends. I'm always hinting around about kissing or dating or sex or something... so I feel like I'm putting pressure on him because he so clearly avoids every advance I make and because of that game we have, I realize that most things I say won't be relevant or taken very seriously so I often just keep going. I never stop or get embarrassed at being rejected because every time I say something it's casual and often self-mocking and it never actually expects anything from him. Which is funny that I feel like I'm putting pressure on him because in the immediacy, I never put him on the spot. I think I asked once, directly, if he would consider dating me and that's it. I always avoid direct questions with him.

Although in the past months when I had problems I asked him directly because I had nothing to lose at first. We weren't close and the way he'd previously ignored me was still fresh in my mind so I figured, hell, it couldn't get worse, I might as well be who I am without being afraid to aggravate him or turn him off. And that's where I am now, again. Afraid to aggravate him and turn him off. But the thing is, I always seem to. He's not talking to me. There has to be a reason. God can only guess cause he's such an abstract person but there's got to be a reason! It was nice to be able to directly ask him questions, he answer too. I loved it. I liked our friendship.

I feel like I should accuse myself of overreacting now. But that's the thing. I always act casual. I never tell him that it hurts me. Even if I do tell him, I do it in a way that doesn't put him on the spot so that he'll never have to apologize. I think when I first became friends with him, when Mike and I were breaking up, I was tentative about being with James. James dislikes so many people and he never tells it to their face but I could always see his expressions and hear the things he said about them. He's just one of those quiet, hot guys that every single obnoxious girl hugs and she thinks that he adores her attention because he's quiet but he doesn't.

And I never wanted to force myself on him like everyone else does. So I'm always aware that I'm walking on thin ice with him. So I never put him on the spot. I never asked anything of him. I never asked him to like me. So I take what I can get. I don't feel like I have a right to do anything more. Almost like he's doing me a favor by being friends with me. And in his own right, he is doing me a favor because no one has a right to appeal to another person. It's not like I deserve to be adored by everyone.

In any case, the point I was trying to make is that because I feel like I put pressure on him by dropping all of the hints that never seem to stop - like leaving that many comments and texts knowing he's not going to respond. I just keep going. And I hate validating it because I hate knowing that I may make it comfortable for him to not answer me. But I do validate it because I don't dare put any more pressure on him. So I'm harassing him and I can't ask him directly why he won't respond positively to my "harassment," for the purposes of this conversation, because then I'm putting more pressure on him.

I'm really just stuck.

And what can I say? It was good while it lasted. I cherished our friendship so much. Not in a sentimental way. Just a simple goodness. Simple pleasures.

The only way to stop tormenting myself, because if he has stopped being that close to me, for whatever reason, and things are the way they were before, then I'll surely be toremented.... so the only way to stop it is to make a productive decision to let go. I can't even let go temporarily and hope that if I give him space that he won't be annoyed or bothered when I give him some attention every once in a while because nothing helps. When he stops being responsive, there's nothing I can do to get through to him.

It was so nice to make that step, taking him off my myspace and ignoring him for six months. It was nice to get him out of my life because that perpetuation I was going through was truly tormenting. And the only reason I let him come back into my mind, my feelings is because he was making all the advances so I knew I wasn't forcing it.

Now I just don't know what to do. Like right now, I'm not talking to him on aim because I'm giving him space. And because I want him to know that I'm okay with giving him space - that I can live without bugging him to give me attention. And I also don't have anything to say, you know? I was trying to say this at the beginning but I had to put all the background information down before you could understand my logic. I feel like if we're back to square one, there's nothing I can say to him because I mean nothing to him.

Despite the fact that our conversations are simple and casual and I'm honestly the cutsy type who says silly girly things and the like.... I can only do that, be that person, because I know it's accepted by James. He validates it and I love it. I like how he reacts to my silliness. He doesn't share in it, but he just lets me be, lets me be silly and doesn't act like I'm weird. I think it would make a lot of people treat me like I'm weird because they don't know how else to react. But James is best at not reacting. He's very reserved. And he's simple and silly in his own way. We make an amazing team. I miss it.

I just can't be that open and bare, not in a serious way but it takes a particular comfortableness to put me at ease so that I can just be okay with life and the world... so that I can smile and feel it emotionally instead of physically, on my lips. I guess I'm a very, very uptight person. Very serious. Very guarded. And I'm not like that with James. I'm not dramatic or serious. I still have a sense of humor based on my perception of serious topics. but otherwise, my soul is relaxed. The only thing ever not at ease is my hormones. They scream at me sometimes. I just don't get enough lustful encounters, not that I'll admit to enjoying them if I had the chance. But I crave them, regardless of their reality.

Right now I'm just sensitive. I feel unloved, unvalidated from him. That awful feeling that I had to put out of my mind every time he used to ignore me, because I knew I couldn't ask for more. I couldn't expect him to give me anything more. So I just had to pretend like it was okay to feel rejected. To feel that who I am was rejected.

etc. etc. etc...

I wanted to got to sleep tonight anyway. I was so awfully tired at 8pm. But I stayed awake and watched Gilmore Girls for a few hours.. and then I grew a little more active by the time it was done and didn't want to go to sleep. Damnet.

You know, I just have to keep wondering why it felt so good to be pressed against John and the like. I'm not reminiscing. I'm wishing I had some yumminess going on here and whenever I get to this point I come to a halt cause who the hell am I supposed to be kissing and touching in my mind?

And I know now that John doesn't mean anything to me. That all the things that I liked about him didn't really turn out to be accurate reflections of him. What I saw and liked of his behavior was sincerely his behavior but I drew conclusions from his behavior that weren't really accurate. The more I got to know him the less I liked.

So how come he felt so good? I'm just used to not being able to feel for someone I don't feel for. You know what I mean? I can think of any ordinary person and imagine being presse---

Oh yeah. The trust thing. I trusted him.

Seriously, I do not like my sister.

She got a boob job.
Fortunately, not too big. She had nothing before.

It's just, she says that she's doing it to pay for college and to pay for Tucker's private school which is a few thousand a year. But the truth is, it's not a part time job for her. Do you know what I mean? A part time job is a job that can't accurately reflect you because you're only in it temporarily. Like working a couple shifts at the library on a weekend. That doesn't make you a librarian. It doesn't even have to mean you read a lot. It's just something that you have to do under the circumstances, as Stephanie suggests she strips for.

Even if Stephanie leaves the business in two or three years, she will always be a stripper. She'll be a 30 year old soccer mom with fake boobs. You can't wash those years off.

She said that one of the reasons she liked stripping is that it tested her confidence, to go in front of a room full of people and have all eyes on you. She said that it gave her self-esteem to be able to be comfortable with it.

But what happens when you fail? When you get in front of a room and you find that you're not good enough? That's when you get the boob job. That's when stripping tells you that your worth is only anything when you're finished stuffing yourself with silicone.

Aw some guy at my school sat down next to me at lunch and chatted with me and stuff. He's a good conversationalist. In any case, when he left, he asked if I had aim... and I gave him my aim but I forgot the 117 at the end, I sometimes can't keep track of the differences between Spartikus and Spartacus. Humph.

I was wondering why he got the name on Wed and he still hadn't IMed me. I only gave him "IAMSpartacus"...

I feel like the type of person who gives someone a wrong number on purpose. :p

Dreams: College Guy

Dan.

Sex.

HP#7

Mormons.

Damnet. When I looked up what day Isis's birthday would be on, I looked for Monday and forgot that today is the seventh. Her birthday is on the fifteenth. And luckily that is on a Monday so that we can be with her but also so that her father can say happy birthday to her. I hope he doesn't ask to spent time with her... because he drops her off at noon on Monday. And I think I'm going to skip my French class so that I can come home at 3, instead of Six:15. Ha, that's funny. Six:Fifteen. lol. Nvm. I'm going to make her spice cake. I used to make awesome spice cake.

But in any case, it's not tomorrow it's the next Monday. I can't wait. This week is her last week of months. After this she can promptly be known by years. Although I just bought a summer outfit for her that said 18months. Them people don't know when to quit...

It's John's mom's birthday today... Well it would be if she were still alive.
Her name is Melissa too.

It's Isis's birthday tomorrow. Monday, that is. ONE YEAR OLD.

Munchkin.

John is saying cryptic things to me, or asking me cryptic questions. His question was, what I thought of him. And I knew that any answer I could give him would be lined with bitterness so I told him I had no opinion.

He's complicated.

There is nothing more pleasing than writing two or three journal entries a day. Getting all my favorite thoughts written down so that I can preserve them and share them with people.

But I guess that just wasn't meant to be when it concerns college.
This is my second semester in which I find myself nostalgic for my entries but satisfied without them.

I miss James. I don't actually want him to hang out with me this week. I'm on my period and I've been in a reading mood so I'm taking advantage of it by making a dent in my reading list. Plus I have homework to do and work for my mom to do and, naturally, plenty movies or seasons to watch...

All that are best left to themselves, without James. But after I'm off my period I'm going to want to be with him again.

I think, in a sense, I've fallen in love with him. Love is a varying thing. And for me, and the way I feel about James, in particular to these past few months... it's about affection and dependency of companionship. I've always been dependent of his companionship, ever since Mike and I broke up. But these past few months he's given it to me. Like once a week at least. And I so truly enjoy being in his company. As I've probably already explained. It's a sort of freedom - except from lust, of course. But being with him soothes me out of his simplicity.

And that's why I nearly hesitate to say that I'm in love with him because love is always such a complex thing, tied to emotions. I shouldn't even bring it up, especially at this time. But regardless of it's lack of complexity... I still feel affectionate for him and dependent on his company in a way that says to me love. In every schoolgirl way, you understand.

But now I'm trying to use the term love "correctly" and that frustrates me because it's such an undefined term, and yet with such connotations. I can't nearly refute all of the connotations because some are just so abstract.

So let's just forget I said love, with all of its connotations.

I've been down that road with James anyway and it was a very unsatisfying road because he never returned my affections and I felt very... powerless and begging.

He didn't abuse it, but it was still humiliating.

And I have a tendency to quickly dramatize my feelings from such an exaggerated situation.

I guess I panic and overreact.

And for some reason I seem to want to save the situation with love. I'm panicking, and if I tell myself I'm in love with him it will somehow save the situation. I'm not sure why.

I guess sometimes I just feel like love won't fail me. Even though, no matter how much I love another, it never guarantees they'll love me back.