When I was a little girl, I had praying on a schedule. Mom taught me every morning to wake up and say "Good morning, dear Jesus. I love you. Everything I do today is for you." I'd say that. I'd say the whole "Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts..." prayer before every meal. And I'd say a routine prayer before bed of OurFatherHailMaryGloryBe and then personalized prayer ("God, I had a bad day today. My friends were mean"). I always kind of felt passionate about God...as much as was possible for a little girl. The past few years, I've been unable to pray. It's not because I hate God or have any less faith. I actually feel more spiritual. But I really don't know why I can't just talk to God. I just can't see "Him" as one central being anymore...the thought that one mass of spiritual being can create everything that ever was and ever will be is just beyond my realm of comprehension, and I truly don't think that's what God is. The thing is, I have no clue WHAT God is. But I've noticed something about myself...and I don't know if it's good or not. But I tend to become OBSESSED with individuals whom I find passionate and genius. I almost worship them...not almost, I DO worship them. For instance, right now I'm reading I Was Amelia Earhart by Jane Mendelsohn. Her only other book is Innocence, and it's truly my favorite book. Though Jane's a new author with only two books, she is SUCH an amazing writer. I feel so much when I read her words...just the way she paints images in my head. She makes normally boring words beautiful by pairing them with other words and adding certain sentence structures. When I read her words, I feel a build up of emotion that is so hard to describe...but it's like a mix of every good emotion -- sensuality, love, passion, spirituality...just everything. And I'm starting to realize that the feelings her art make me feel...maybe THAT is God. Maybe the love and respect and adoration I feel towards her...maybe THAT is God. I might stop worrying about the fact that I can't pray anymore because the feelings I feel towards the beautiful, intelligent human beings God created are stronger than any feeling I'd feel from saying an Our Father. I know that when I write a poem, and someone loves it, I feel like the person is praising and loving me. Maybe when we praise and love God's creation, we're praising and loving God.

I have realized that I am a very unforgiving person. I wish I wasn't this way. I am really easy to form grudges against people. A guy came in today whom I couldn't stand to begin with because he's one of those fake-nice folks. Well today I was starting to ring up his 40 of Magnum (hail to the Lindenwald cheap beer drinkers), and he just stared at my breasts and said, "Damn girl...you better stop growing!" Where do people get the audacity to say things such as this! He can think it all he wants...I think all kinds of things about people's boobs, asses, everything...but I'd never, ever have the nerve to say anything! I gave him the look o' death, and he KNEW I was mad. He apologized continuously, but no matter how much he said he was sorry, I couldn't get the snarl off my face, and I couldn't even look him in the eye. It's odd because he didn't mean it sexually, really he didn't. I could tell that. I don't know WHAT he meant to achieve by making such a remark, but it wasn't sexual. But now I cannot stand the man. And I know that two weeks from now, I still won't be able to stand him, nor will I in a year. I do this with a lot of people. I even have a few friends whom I still hold grudges against, but I actually can still hang out with most of them without problems...so I guess the grudges aren't that bad. I envy my brother Dave. People continuously mistreat him, walk all over him, take advantage of his generosity...but all he ever does is see the positive in them. How does he do it? I try so hard, but I can't seem to. I can't smile and say "Sure" when someone asks me "I only have a dollar but need a pack of cigarettes. Could you loan me the rest, and I'll pay you back?" I'll either lie and say I don't have the money or say "Okay" but in a really...not really mean way, but a nonchalant, "I really don't want to do this, but I will anyway" way. My brother Dave is an angel.

There's a cute little punk rock kid in the neighborhood...I adore the little fella! He's probably 14 or 15, and I'm starting to think he has a crush on me because he always gives me this "You're dreamy..." smile. It's so hilarious because he always has on clothes that say, "Piss off" or something equally as "Don't approach me"ish, but he's SO sweet. I think almost everything on his face is pierced, and I think he did them all himself because they're all infected. He has a huge safety pin in his eyebrow...it's kind of gross. I admire him, though.

I, the cocky bitch I am, always like to think that I'm stronger than the average person and can resist those urges that makes us human (and, thus, imperfect) in nature...you know: hunger, thirst, sex, drugs, being gossipy, seeking revenge...the list goes on. I hate when I do something so overly human and feel "like everybody else." Grrr.

Well, my chili bean and macaroni dinner is done. = )

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