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Monday, December 9th, 2002
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Friday, November 29th, 2002
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My boyfriend is getting better, even though I still hate him almost once a day.
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Tuesday, November 12th, 2002
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I go home tomorrow. Oh excitement. Wanting a baby, wanting to shave the back of my head, wanting to get new clothes. Can't wait to shower. Can't wait to fuck. Condoms suck; I hope he doesn't get the lubricated kind because it smells funny. Hoping I can lose more weight. Wanting to waste away. Wanting to fall to pieces. Needing (?) to hit rock bottom before I can make the next stage.
Stuff to do; publish a day calendar, get my hand in the world of massage, heal. I want to heal, but there are other things I need to do too -- I need to get my life together, find myself.
Restless. Longing for home. Hoping something comes up w/in two weeks because I'm not sure I have the courage to just walk out without a plan or money, though I have in more desperate days.
Needing to go to the courthouse. Needing to open a bank account. Needing a driver's license.
Needing to be held and touched and loved.
Living in the past (?). Must find friends in present.
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Tuesday, October 29th, 2002
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I write in here a lot. I'm avoiding so many people. I want to write a novel in November, but that will involve being around Kip and Hilary AND being jobless, neither of which I much want, but at least it would be something to do. Maybe I could be published. That would be nice. Except I always write SO DEPRESSING-ly. The last thing I want is a boring book that's so sad and self-pitying no one wants to read it. All my humor goes out the window when I sit down to write. Blaah.
I said that spending money is fun, but I'd forgotten quite how great my post-shopping guilt is. Blaah. Obsessing over 'product.'
Feeling nothing but restlessness and boredom. Got to talk to Sara; highlight of day.
Not sure how I should write novel. Probably in chapter form -- not journalesque form.
Having chips and cookies for breakfast.
Wondering about 'eponine' for first daughter's name. Possibly make others jealous.
Eponine Dacy could be a good pen-name. I can't remember the proper word for that.
Ate at "Blimpie's" last night. Feeling blimpy.
Dry sinus cavities.
Wishing all teeth would fall out so could wear bright white dentures.
Wishing could find toothbrush.
Need shower. Must hurry. Steal Kip's razor; mine's dull and I can't find it.
Wearing sleeveless knit shirt tonight. Slightly out of fashion, but that's me.
Favorite shirt = "ugly" colored granny-square shirt.. the kind you wouldn't be caught dead in. V.comfortable and pretty.
I'd forgotten how preppy the entire East is. Probably why I followed trend of pseudo-delicate skirts and shirts. No non-preppy influence as far as I can see. Possible pseudo-european in magazines, but not in streets. Felt akward that was only one in punk-like clothing at memorial. "Casual dress" aparently means three-piece suits and heels. I thought it meant torn jeans and boots.
Maybe that could be a good start to book. Hm. I'm always poor with beginnings. Never know where "beginning" is. (Do I begin as reflection on age three, at college, in highschool, in present?) Writing sucks. Wish was better writer.
Dream job: advertising photographer. Excellent at that sort of thing. Love advertisements and commercials more than articles and shows. Always have. Used to collect magazine ads. Should begin again.
Reading Cosmo. Forgotten how many advertisements. Highly enjoyable.
Novel. Hm. Characters can be based on real-life people, though claim they are not, but must make decisions that are not stereotypical of actual persons.
Must go. Greasy and smelly from 1 day no shower. Broadway is spectacular. Forgot how magnificently I adore the tv's in the streets. Wish could have gone in Toys 'R Us on ferris wheel. Looked fun.
Dream life: Flowers every day and theatre every Saturday.
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Wednesday, October 16th, 2002
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( nothing like a trend-setter; survey )
I love when he sneaks up on me, wraps his arms around my waist, and covers my neck in kisses. (Or better yet, when he kneels down and hugs my belly and says, "Hi, Baby.")
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Tuesday, October 1st, 2002
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Friends' list cleanup. I seriously doubt you actually care about my process.
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P.S. I've come to have a lot of respect for this woman.
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Wednesday, July 31st, 2002
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Flynn and I are the proud parents of nine tropical fish. Their names are as follows:
1. Lizzy -- named for our child, Lyndon Elizabeth Crosby
2. Ripple -- named for his sexy scales (he's totally a salmon)
3. Alyosha -- named after a favorite cat
4. Rasta -- named after a black cat
5. Ginger -- named for her hot looks
6. Lady Luck -- no specific namesake
7. The Triplets -- three guppies named for our (cursed) future children
( see the children )
xo.
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Nothing much to say. Sad, but I don't feel like talking about why.
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Saturday, July 20th, 2002
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| Time: | 4:24 pm. |
| Mood: | paranoid. |
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Well, it had to come sometime. This journal is now closed to the public. I cleaned out my friendslist too. For elite access, say something. I don't make any promises. To the people who can read what I say, go read this.
I go through phases of happiness and unhappiness and angst and bitchiness and optimism. If you want out, just say, "I want out, M" and that's that.
And just so we're clear? It's not my job to stroke your ego.
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rainy_wednesday's journal