Whew. I am tired. Mis padres made me get up at 8:00 a.m. Hence, the "whew". Whelp, I hope that I can do something tonight. I have to go to my Grandma's 75th birthday party. I like how last night I referred to it as a "wedding anniversary" as opposed to a "birthday", because I am a dumbass. I don't understand how people can get into sports so much, and know just about everything about every sport. That boggles my mind. I am hungry. We have no food, and I was forced to eat oatmeal for breakfast. For some reason, I thought it would taste "good". Oatmeal is like eating a bowl of barf. That's what it looks like anyway. I haven't showered yet, and it's around 1:00 p.m. I smell really bad. Ewww...there's this guy talking on the radio, and he's breathing really hard. He sounds like he has asthma, or he's trying to breathe through a funnel. You know what earks me? When parents make there kids play all sorts of sports. I mean, if the kid really wants to do it, great, but children should not need to live life at a grueling pace. Kids are supposed to have fun and play in the sand, and chase butterflies, and take naps. That's what I think anyway. I think that if I had kids they would be some damn good kids. I would be one of those mothers that the world needs more of. But I don't even want kids. Why? Because I don't even care now. I'm 17, and why would I care about that now? Like the girls of today (I won't name names so that no one is offended) who make all these plans for the future, and have their kids names, know what color their house will be, and what coffee they will drink every morning, and GAH! That's so irritating. I can't imagine my life next week, let alone in 5 years. Glabshada!!!! {made that word up myself, it means: that is so stupid.} I can't imagine a boxed in life. Call me a simpleton, but I only want what I truly need in life. It is agitating to see people drool over cars and computers and automatic blenders with remote controls. All right...I have to take a shower.

I hate Amellia Badillia. She was so so so so stupid!!!


Days without Josh are sad days...


I want food...nourishment...


Need sleep...


I feel ill...



Daniel Weber needs some medical assistance,
don't you Daniel...

All I can think about right now is my love for life. I can't imagine why I could have ever been so depressed in the past, and I can't even grasp exactly what it was that I could have been so absorbed by. I know why I became so easily depressed, and I know the exact things tha caused my depression. Now that I look back and draw the facts together, connect what was true as opposed to what I lead myself to believe, and realize what it tool to become the emotionally wreckless person that I was, I understand that there wasn't any foundation under the things that I believed in. I would devour all that was negative and all that was impefect, and place them in my heart and in the center of my mind. I would think about them, brew about them, and not release them, and I don't even know why. It's strange. But I have come to realize that sadness is an addiction, and at least I found comfort there. That sounds odd, but it's true. I could use my sadness as a crutch for anything. It's not healthy. All I can say is that I think of all people and how they have insecurities just like myself. It's stupid, it's so futile to think that people brew on an everyday basis about their problems. I can't think very straight ay the moment. It's frusterating, so I will call it quits.

I want ice cream.
Dave Thomas is dead...
Mrs. Dunn is screaming at Alex Smith.
Karly is cute.
My head hurts a lot.
I want to travel around the U.S.
It smells like butts in here.
That reminds me of The Great Bear Lodge.
The room I slept in smelled like crotch.
I slept in the bed...
Ewww...
So did other people...
Ewww...
I am wearing meat shoes.
But I am not wearing black...
Oh wait, yes I am...
I still want ice cream...

I was hungry last night at 3:00 a.m. Now it's 10:09 a.m., and I am still hungry. >cough< I feel rather peaked. That means fatigued, tired, or worn out. Hmmm... I think far too much. But last night was a delightful exception. As I lie in my bed, I did my very best to avoid the thinking and analyzing process at all cost. So, for about two hours I simply wrote. When I was done writing I was decided that I was tired, and I was, but once I stood up and was moving around, putting paper away and such I got a second wind. So, I had nothing to do. I couldn't write anymore, because I couldn't think of anything to write about. All that had needed to be said, had been. So I sat, Indian style, (that seems racist) on my bed, and stared out the window at the snow covered landscape. It was quite splendid. I didn't do anything. I didn't think, I didn't ponder, I didn't wish, I didn't hope, I didn't brew ... I simply sat and stared and dreamed. Who thought that it would ever be that easy to find peace? Quite serene. I sat there for a good hour, until my eyelids weighed my down onto my pillow, and I fell asleep.

Bamboozled: best word ever...

All that I have eaten for the past week has been chili. I am really sick of it. Yet, I refuse to make something. AH, the wonderful world of laziness. I am drinking out of a gaudy goblet. That makes me laugh. Goblets are so much fun! Or maybe I am simply loosing my grasp on reality/my mind. Today in church our pastor talked about how everyone has their own vision on his or her own life. They forever strive for that ideal vision, and things have to be sacrificed in order to complete that vision. I spaced out for a hefty portion of that message, or was just drawing picturesof Paige as an axe-murderer, but despite this I really thought about my own personal vision on life. I know the exact moment that I desired to see what was past the boundaries of my own life. I remember it quite vividly. I wanted to explore life, and I was disgusted by all that bound me. Quite perplexed and perturbed was I. It was on a retreat with my church's high school youth group. It was somewhere close to Columbus in a "youth hostel", whatever that means. {It was simply a house for groups of people to stay in} People that I had known for a long time surrounded me; people that I thought I knew the best. For the first time, I realized that I just didn't fit. I didn't belong. It really confused me. By "I didn't fit in" I don't mean that they rejected me, but we just didn't connect on the same level. There was something that separated our perspectives. The people who were there had differing mindsets than my own. Their mentalities I just couldn't relate with. At any rate, there I was, at a house that was simultaneously a public place and "grandma's house". I needed to escape the narrow-mindedness that was permeating the room. So, I went outside for a breather. There really wasn't anywhere reclusive to go to, but I managed to find a picnic table, under a willow tree in the corner of the yard. I sat. My only company was a notebook and the lightning bugs. All that I wanted to do was write what I was feeling, but I couldn't. So in a desperate attempt to join all of my muffled thought, I started to move my pencil. This is what I wrote:

I can't think for the life of me.
It's seems like concentrating on anything
Is out of the question.
I can't analyze situations or people
My mind draws blank
I don't feel creative or inspired
And what I want to say I can't
It's like I'm in a foreign country
Out of my comfort zone, but I have found solace.
I can't even understand what I think
But I can dream
Stirred up in my mind are dream I can't imagine
Boiling and Brewing, wishing to get out
I must be tired.


As I sat on the picnic table, facing the west, the sun began to sink into the landscape at its own leisure, until I couldn't see its form anymore. But I wasn't done. I wanted to see it go down wholly. I tried to shift so that I could see. Alas, I still couldn't. The only way I would have been able to see it, was if I got up, jumped the fence and the bushes that were hindering me from seeing the sun, and ran into the far off field. All of the sudden I had an epiphany. It was like an analogy to my personal inner turmoil. Ah-ha! So, I wrote this:

Feel contained
Like I'm forever trapped in a life
That I have to live
It's required of me
It shouldn't be any other way
But I look out
Past my boundaries
And I see a forest
My eyes can't see past its tall trees
Or it's thick brush
They can only imagine
But my heart wants to me free
Shatter the chains that bind me
I can see the sunset behind the woods
And that's were I want to be
Just to walk and never stop
What a freedom
I desire to be on the other side
But even then would I be satisfied?

So, here we see that I am once again not sure of my own desires, and I am left feeling controlled and hopeless.

All that I really want is to live. I love life more than anything, and I suppose that sometimes it seems best to end it because who wants to live a life that is miserable and not free. I don't. I am questioning if I am simply being selfish. I want to live life my own way. Is that selfish? And when I am pushed into a life that I don't agree with or enjoy, I have no reason to be happy about it. I loose my reason to truly love to live. I would never end my life - ever. Of that much I am sure. But I do question life a lot. As I write this I find that I am so unsure about far more than I assumed that I was... All I want is peace of mind. I suppose that I will never be sure of everything in life. All that I want is to live. There are so many things that I love, and I feel as if I am being kept from those, but am I keeping it from myself? Things move to fast. All that I want to do is sit back and laugh. Lie in the snow for a while, and be at ease. I just need to be reassured that everything will be all right. Because I carry these burdens on my shoulders and around my ankles and it's hard to press on sometimes. I don't mean to me negative or a pessimist, I am simply questioning. I don't feel sorry for myself; I just want to know the answers. Do I bring it upon myself? I just don't know. This is making no sense...if it was making any sense at all I have lost it. So, I will go before I confuse myself more.


"I want to lie in the sand, and have sun shine on me. Is that way too much to ask?"

I am feeling rather voided at the moment. Rather voided indeed. I think that this is the combination of no sleep last night and the lack of human contact. I am jealous of those of you who can just leave the house and go to wherever you want, or ask your parents to leave and they let you go, or can even makes plans in advance and they let you leave. I myself do not have this luxury, and it is, in fact, making me sad. It was quite disheartening last night when no one came over. I suppose that this is my own damn fault for having high expectations, but nontheless, disheartening. I just wanted to talk to someone. I called numerous people, but then gave up, because I figured that, being as it was a Saturday night, everyone was out. I hope that everyone had a lovaly evening. I finished my portrait, painted another painting that I titled "my paradox", made oddles of jewlery, which I have been meaning to do for quite some time, and cleaned my room. I called Lauren, to chat and what not. I wanted to see how she was, andsimply just enjoy her company. Whatever was I thinking? She didn't say a word, and I asked her if I should let her go and she told me that was my decision, and I said actually it's your decision because you are the one that is being distant.
"I just don't have anything to say"
"Well, it didn't used to be so difficult for you to make conversation."
"Ya, those were the good 'ol days"
"As opposed to the 'bad days', which I am assuming are now?"
"You don't have to think that they were the good days, but I do."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you aren't obligated to think that they were that great, but I do think that they were."
"Now, what days are we talking about exactly."
"I don't know."

I love it. I want to talk to her, and be with her, but she is hell-bent on the fact that I have changed to such an extent that she just can't connect with me anymore. It really hurts. Well, I have to get ready for church. Listening to aenima compels one to say "fuck" A LOT. Hmmm...I can't imagine why.