Wow, I haven't written in quite some time. (10 days is long for me!) I don't think a whole lot has gone on. I've actually been quite frustrated by life.

I just keep seething with hatred over my classes. I hate having to do things I don't want to do, and, goshdangit, I don't want to have to take a midterm on statistics. Does the math requirement people realize just how much statistics I have taken?! But, alas, I already took the midterm, and, chances are, even though I didn't open the book until the day of the midterm (seriously), I probably got an A. This is not to brag...this is to say I am taking CLASSES I DO NOT NEED. The day of the midterm I realized that, though I only have gone to one of the four Topics in Math recitations (the one-day-a-week deals that the TAs teach), I think I went to the wrong one. So should I just start going to the right one, even though the TA's going to be thinking, "Who is this girl?" I suppose so. I guess I could go up to the TA, if it is a different one than the one barely-speaking one from Japan I had that one time, and tell him I've been going to the wrong recitation. He doesn't have to know I've only gone to 25% of them so far. I think I'm going to start going to class. Maybe this was my way of getting kicked back into gear. Sitting outside of my math midterm, attempting to get in an hour and a half of study time, a girl began talking to me. She was a very pretty girl, pretty and thin enough to be a model. She had blonde hair down to her waist and huge blue eyes. I realized part-way into the conversation that she had something wrong with her. Describing her to people afterwards, I called her "a female Henry." She said her sister dropped her on top of a wooden gate when she was young, and the post of the gate went up her spine. She wasn't supposed to ever walk again, but she did. I talked to her for awhile (well, listened to her talk to me), but then I began looking at my book, in a "I'm going to study now" way. She didn't get the hint. She told me everything about her. She even told me toward the end of the conversation that her ex-boyfriend has been trying to get back together with her but that she doesn't want to because...she's not sure she likes men. Then she gave me her story of thinking she's a lesbian. (Though I don't know her very well, I don't think she's a lesbian.) Then she said, "I'm not trying to hit on you." I can't believe she had the guts to talk about such personal things with someone she'd only known an hour. Right before the midterm began, I said, "I'm going to go inside the classroom and study some more." (Trying to get away from her.) She said, "Oh, great. I'll come in and sit by you. We can talk more." (I sighed loudly in my head.) So she sat by me. I said, "I'm going to cram for these two minutes we have left." She said, "I will, too." But she kept talking some more. Then we ended up having to sit every-other-person. So I went to sit somewhere else, but she said, "There's a seat right in front of us! Sit there!" (Sigh again.) So I sat in front of her. But I kept my back to her, and she let me study. Beforehand, she gave me her name and phone number. I don't plan on calling her. While she's a nice girl, I don't know if I have the patience to be her friend. And this makes me sad because I know this is what everyone else that meets her thinks, as well. And this is why she has no friends; she even told me she has no friends. I realize that nothing is an accident. I also realize that, though we don't realize it, we directly or indirectly control what happens in our lives. Somehow I willed this girl to talk to me. Though she was annoying, I feel somewhat content around these types of people. I think I like to comfort them. They, needing comforting, probably sense this about me somehow. I suppose it's a give-and-take. If anything, she proved to me that I can pass a midterm (possibly with an "A" even) without studying at all.

Henry, who for awhile was flattering and entertaining and fun to be around, is now starting to become a burden to all of us. He's becoming rude. I know he doesn't know any different. For this reason, I have chosen to be more angry at his mother than at him. She's held him as a slave for his 29 years of existence. He has no social skills. He has no manners. And he really doesn't know any different. This is what makes me sad. He's book-smart. He just has no common sense. He could have done so much with his life by now if she'd have only let go of his leash. He's never going to get out of that house. When she dies, he'll feel he no longer has a purpose. I don't know what he's going to do then. In the next few months, I'm going to begin looking for a new job. I don't know how to tell him I'm going to quit. I'm not going to tell him until just before I actually do. He's going to be heartbroken. But it isn't my fault. I haven't led him on in any way. If anything, I've pushed him away, but he only sees what he wants to see in our relationship, and in our relationship he sees a chance at life-long romance. I have told him time and again that this is not possible. He's not rational. I made the mistake of mentioning my joining Weight Watchers while he was around. Ever since then, he's been harping on me about it. He mentioned the other day that he was going to have french fries for dinner. I replied that I'd had them for lunch. He said, "Uh-oh, you cheated!" I said, "I did not! Fries are on my diet!" He's also made a few comments about my weight, comments not meant to be offensive but which I have taken that way. He's never made any comment about my weight in all the years I've known him. I wish I'd not have put the idea in his head. Sigh. I'm so sensitive. Speaking of the diet, it's going fine. I have QUITE a lot of weight to lose if I want to get to the goal they have set for me. But I am almost sure I don't want to lose that much weight. I'd be too thin for my liking. I hate that you have to get to the weight THEY want you to get to in order to become a "lifetime member," meaning you don't have to pay anymore to go. Once people reach the goal Weight Watchers sets, they go on maintenance and can keep going for free so that they are inspired to keep the weight off. I want to be a size 12. The weight they have me at is a weight 20 pounds less than I was when I was a size 12. So we'll see. I've stayed on it perfectly. I've fooled myself into thinking I cheated today because I have a paranoia that I didn't figure up the points the right way for the meal I cooked for myself tonight. But I did. I think I feel strange because I feel full, and I've not felt full the past few days even once. Maybe my stomach has shrunk. That's good, I guess. I'll record my first week weight loss in a couple days. I weigh in the day after tomorrow. I have felt healthy the past few days. I really think it's because I've eaten no dairy the past few days. I don't want to go throwing the "v" word out again because every time I do, I inevitably become a plain ol' vegetarian afterwards -- some kind of curse I inflict upon myself, I suppose. But I have, in the back (or front) of my mind been trying to be the "v" word again...and succeeding. Maybe it's because I'm teaching myself to cook (there is a lot of work to do yet!)...and because I'm not being as strict. I just want to be like Moby!

I love Moby. I am starting to admire him the way I admire Jeff Buckley. He and Jeff are two different kinds of people. Jeff never goes into detail about his belief systems. He just takes one sentence and sums up a thousand ideas. For instance, "All I want to do is love everyone." Those words are so powerful...for if everyone sought to love one another, there'd be no more war, no more starvation. This is because when you love someone, you are able to look beyond your differences. Or if those differences are too large to overcome, you may have to separate yourself from that person to avoid conflict. Why do people feel they have to fight things out? Well, I guess it's unavoidable when the people you are fighting are denying people of rights. This is because they are not showing love. So it's a big, vicious cycle. Anyway, I do not make sense when it comes to talking about these things, probably because I'm more of a "Jeff" than a "Moby." Moby can tell you why he feels the way he feels and give you a paragraph of supports for any point he makes. He is so eloquent. He is such a beautiful human being. It's strange to like him as a person so much and to have heard so little of his music. I know I heard a lot of it at the concert a couple years ago, but I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. Though I love Moby, his live show almost ruins the music...because he's so HYPER. And his music is so soulful that having a rampant Moby running around and trying to play 10 instruments stresses you out more than relaxes you. And Moby's music is relaxing...so the two don't go together. Moby's anti-violence. Moby's vegan. Moby's the most peaceful, wonderful human being. I am now a member of his messageboard, so needless to say, I'll be posting love letters constantly. He also writes on his online journal nearly every day. We're a little bit alike, I must brag.

Angelina gave me a huge compliment awhile ago. We were talking about poetry, and I was saying how I am not that shy about sharing my poetry because with every poem I share, I hope in the back of my mind that one day my poetry will do to the reader what Anne Sexton or Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poetry does to me. I want to be able to transport the reader to the place I'm in when I write. I don't think this has happened yet, for I have not received any obsessive fanmail that resembles the kind I send to people on a daily basis. I don't know why I admire people the way I do. I just read their works and I bawl my eyes out. I was reading Moby shortly ago and just tearing up. Anyway, Angelina thinks I have it in me to be like Jeff Buckley and Sylvia Plath. I do, too, because I know that I come from the same place as they do. (We all do, though most of us don't know it and look at these people as being overly dramatic or hyper-spiritual.) I just have some sort of a filter that prevents my writing from being what it could be...I always have 100 writing ideas coursing through my body at one time, but I feel so frustrated when I pick up the pen and can't get them out onto paper. I think this frustration is what has prevented me from writing lately. But Angelina has inspired me...I'm going to try to write daily, maybe before I go to bed every night. And I'm going to submit to publishing companies, as I've been saying I'm going to do. I'm sick of being lazy. I think I have a bit of depression, which I hate to say since people throw that word around so casually. But whatever has been wrong with me lately is just debilitating. I am late for school almost every day because I'm so entirely indecisive about what clothes to wear or how to fix my hair. This cannot be normal. Yuck, I hope I can make myself better. I hate this.

Locker-room Sarah and I have become great friends. We've eaten lunch together and everything. I really, really like her as a person. We have a crush on the same boy in the food place. This leads me to believe she is straight, which is fine. I still have a huge crush on her. I don't want a relationship with a girl anyway. (Eh, maybe not.) She's dyed her hair black, and I caught her on a day she did her makeup the other day. Turns out she's quite "goth," and I didn't even realize it upon meeting her (because she wasn't decked out). She's got the best sense of humor. I'm so glad we're friends now. = ) = ) = ) = )

I kind of told Chris about my attraction to women the other day. He was telling me in confidence ("Don't tell dad!") about his first trip to a strip club. He said, "You should go with me!" And then I said, "I'm attracted to women sometimes. I just don't mention it to the family since they'd freak out." And he said, "Yeah, Dan might." (I agree that Dan would be the most likely to freak.) Then he said, "Hey, lesbians are cool. Two dudes just freaks me out." And he gave me a high five. (I would say "typical male" here, but he's my nephew, so that was slightly odd of him to say.) And then I said, chickening-out-ishly, "I don't even think I'll ever have a girlfriend or sleep with a girl or anything." And he said, "Hey, if you do, feel free to confide in me about it." So...um...I guess that went well? It was kind of liberating. I think I'm just going to live my life and try not to hide but not necessarily have a huge "family get-together" so that I can come out. Straight people don't have to explain themselves. Why should the other sexualities? Or maybe I'm just giving myself an easy way out. Hell, I'll just see what happens!

Wow, LONNNG journal entry. But I guess I haven't written in awhile. Well, I have A LOT of homework to do!

<~~~