Entry 000111; 02.24.02

When I was younger (I'd say "little," but i've been the same size since I was 9, give or take 30 pounds) I had a little blue spark gun with a metal trigger and a rotating metal wheel. If you pumped the trigger hard and fast enough so the following pumps were useless, it'd make an overdrive sound that was sort of a "wheeeee wheeeee."

That's what my lungs sound like when I breathe out now.

In other news...Yesterday I drove 60 miles and back to Bridgewater to support Freddy's current endevours to be a poet. When we were 12, he wanted to be a singer. When we were 14, he wanted to be a soccer player. Now he wants to be a poet. If I had more faith in the world, I would say he would have better luck as a singer or a soccer player (he wasn't even a very good singer). However, poetry as an art form is a big barrel of suck amoung 99% of the population, and though he has no idea how to string a proper sentence together, I can defintely see idiots following him around praising his work.

So I went to support the little idiot and it turned up he didn't show. 120 miles. A term paper due the next day. Another one due the day after that. Then a couple of finals. 120 freaking miles. And I HATE poetry.

He is so lucky all I'm asking from him is gas money. I bet the bastard won't even pay me that.

Anyway, I finished my psych term paper. And oh what a term paper it is. No really though, even though the sources are weak, the paper is rushed, and the writing is limp, it's not bad of a paper.

I think my lips are trying to kill me. Or drive me crazy. Or perhaps they'd like to leave my mouth. Pack their bags and head south. I'd be so mad. I'd call my dad.

...Oh god get me out of here. Anyway, they hurt. One day when I turned eight...got my lips stuck in a gate. NO SHUT UP! STOP IT. STOP. IT.

I had a dream about somethign important that I shoudl be avoiding or something but I've completely forgotten the message. This makes me happier than you would think.

So I was actually thinking, a couple of days ago. I mean I know this was all planned out ahead of time, and this was the thing I had the issue about, the entire just giving up and letting the world go about its course..vomitous material such as this..But.......I think I'm just gonna give up and go with the grain. I mean really, I've decided I have no control over anything anyway. All this fighting has done has just given my anxiety and frustration. And yes, the grain does cause as shitload of annoying, useless worrying, but it also allows me to feel very comfortable and safe in those situations where I already know good things are going to happen. You can't buy security like that if your father is a mob boss. And the personalities where they have to worry about what they don't know what is going to happen...that is an uneasy I don't think I'll ever get used to. Better to go with the old worrying. The frustrating, hopeless kind that people say you are crazy for, but at least it softens the blow. Or does it?

The world may never know.

Did you know it takes...oh shit I've forgotten. Either exactly 400 or exactly 500 (give or take exactly 3 licks) to get to the center of a tootsie pop? I was over my aunt's house one day and I was severly bored. My only company was 2 tootie-pops and a couple of cat-cousins that wouldn't come out from underneath the table.