Ooh, next month I get to start writing 2002 journal entries. I'm rather excited. This li'l journal has been around almost an entire year. Oh how the time has gone by.

Can I say for the 50th time this week that I will be SO happy when Wednesday gets here. I really have been studying A TON (and eating constantly because of the stress!). I'm really surprised, too, because I have NEVER studied for anything more than 2 nights ahead of time. I'm going to call Tara today and make out a time for us to study together tomorrow. I like her so much. She makes me so happy. And it's really strange how much we have in common. I think I have a habit of prejudging people...she's tall, thin, gorgeous, and wears Tommy Hilfiger clothes...but, we have ended up being a lot alike. I will try not to prejudge again. = ) I have an entire calendar made out of things I'm going to get done this month. I can't wait to get started on them. I'm the most excited about preparing submissions and manuscripts to submit to publishing companies. I haven't submitted in about 2 years, and when I did, it was poetry that I don't think was my best. I've written some of my favorite poetry the past two years. I was talking to this online friend Josh who calls me on the phone sometimes and goes on and on about his music. He is really a musical genius, I believe. He has more passion for music than most of the famous musicians you see in the media today. I really think he's going to make it. He sings to me on the phone...he's played piano for me...he's played other instruments for me. I think he can play practically every instrument. He's not had lessons, I don't think. Anyway, we were talking, and I was saying how it's so frustrating to put this incredibly large amount of passion in what you do and have people not really care about your poetry. I will admit that a lot of my poetry (mostly the beginning stuff) was written quickly, before my passion for writing really developed. But a large percentage of the stuff I've written the past 2 years have been poems I have totally put my soul into. I know how I get when I read Anne Sexton's poetry. I begin crying, and I feel this really strong feeling in my gut, similar to what I feel when I reach that really awesome spiritual place where God is. And I become obsessed with her, fully. I'm obsessed with so many people who can have this passion. Anne Sexton was insane! She wrote poetry about having sex with her grandma! She used to try to be intimate with her children! But she had something that 99.9% of the world doesn't have. Maybe insanity produces this...or maybe most of the world is insane, and SHE was sane. That's probably a little too "out there" to think, though. Anyway, I was expressing to Josh how disappointing it is to write this poetry and never really have it acknowledged by anyone. He said, "Well, do you write for yourself or other people?" And I really do write for myself, but it's very lonely to reach this place when you write, a place you feel that you put into the particular poem so that whoever reads it would be able to get there...and then no one ends up being able to. I once asked my mom, "Is there anything that you feel so strongly about that it makes you crazy, almost, and it brings tears to your eyes, and you shake?" And she just looked at me and said, "No. I guess I'm not as deep as you." I really do love my mom. She's must missing something. Or I wonder if maybe I'm just the freakish one. I'm really a lot different than most people I've met. And I've found that I often hold back a lot of who I am because at times I haven't, I've been known to freak people out a bit. But, anyway, I think Josh gets these same odd feelings, so I'm not all that alone, I guess. I'm going to try to stop holding myself back, though. Because I bet other people are probably doing the same thing...so if I let it out, other people might, too? So maybe people, in general, are all pretty much alike. I guess Kairos is proof of that. People who, it seemed, had never felt a day in their life were crying uncontrollably. Oh, I can't wait until Matt goes there in a couple days and reaches that tranquility. It never goes away. = )

John called last night. I didn't answer it. He left a message: "Hi Regina. It's Jonathan. Just calling to say I haven't forgot about you. I've just had a really hectic week. I'll...talk to you later. Bye bye." I didn't think he'd ever call me again because our date really was NOT cool. My mother thinks he's not used to being around a "good girl" and is kind of intrigued. I wouldn't doubt this. Here is what low-self-esteem Regina thought would happen. Now, mind you, this is how my mind REALLY DOES work. I am not making this up, as insane as it sounds. He met me at a very dark party. I thought that maybe he couldn't see me very well and just THOUGHT I was attractive. Then we talked on the phone for awhile. I figured that on our date, he'd see me in a well-lighted place and be like, "Ew, what was I THINKING?" and, thus, never call me again. But, alas, this did not happen. I'm intrigued by his intrigue for me, but that is definitely the only thing I'm intrigued about when it comes to him. See, I don't even see what he likes about me because I have been pretty boring around him. We have nothing in common, so I can't really talk about anything I like, so I end up just small-talking all the time. I wonder if his past relationships were this boring. If so, I feel sorry for the guy. I really think he's a GOOD person deep down (though a bit less-than-respectful about women's sexual identity)...I'm not good at giving people the brush-off. If he calls again, I'll probably answer it. He fixes vacuums while on the phone with me, so I guess I could study...haha.

You know what...Henry doesn't talk to me anymore! I wonder what happened! I kind of miss talking to him because he's just so hilarious. Oh well.

So last night I was looking at Michelle Williams pictures on the internet because I am slightly infatuated with her. Then it got to a part that was like, "To view Gallery 5, you need a SexKey ID." So I'm like, "Why not!" So I signed up for a SexKey ID, which is free for a year. The pictures ended up being fakes. I decided to further investigate exactly what websites I could access with my porn username. Well I stumbled onto this one where it had a webcam of a girl. It was UCanWatch.com or something. So I got on and put in the name "Jeannie" and was in a chatroom where people were just watching this chick and typing stuff to her. They were mostly men, and I was one of the only females in the room. They weren't degrading her as badly as they could (though is it really degrading if she chose to do it?). So I just started talking to her like a normal person. I was just interested in having a conversation with her. It was REALLY weird to hear her say "Jeannie." Like I was like, "How did you get into this business?" And she was like, "Well, Jeannie, from a friend of a friend of a friend." And then I asked her how she stays so slim (even though she wasn't that slim, really). She was like, "Well, Jeannie, I'm really not that slim right now. I'm like a size 9. I used to be a 3. I gain and lose weight constantly..." and blah blah. It was like she was BOTHERED that I was carrying on a normal conversation with her. She kept saying stuff like, "If you pay $3.95 you can get in a private room with me" and "You know, I'm bi. I like eating women out." (I hate when people say "eating out." So gross.) I finally got out of the room because I was so disgusted by it. I felt like I was objectifying her by merely being in the room, though I was only saying respectful stuff to her. I don't think I like the sex industry. It always makes me feel sad, for some reason.

You know what I really want to do? Learn how to play the piano. I'd have to learn how to read music, too, though. Maybe I'll do that this year. Though I'd probably have to buy a piano, then, and where would I put it? And where would I get the money? I wish there were no such thing as money. I wish we just bartered or something.

Okay, gotta go do something school-related because guilt is setting in. I get to see Andrew on Tuesday. I was going to say "have" to see Andrew, but that makes it like a chore. It's kind of a chore, though, because it's going to make me hurt. When I see him, I get images in my head of all that bad that happened between us. I wish my demons would go away.

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