end.

Today I was contemplating my funeral. Although I feel far from dead, I don't doubt possibilities. The concept of normal funerals upsets me. I find them to be a little depressing, and what fun is that? I would much rather have those who knew and loved me celebrate my life. So, this is what I decided:

~At first, there is just a simple casket with some flowers and crying people.
~Then, all of the sudden, everything goes black.
~My body is secretly lowered from the ceiling in the dark, while no one can see.
~Then, a spotlight shines onto my dangling body, and all these multi-colored lights burst onto the stage where the casket was.
~Techno music.
~Lots of techno music, like the kind that people play to pump sports teams up.
~Following that, lots of attractive men come out in silver suits with glow sticks.
~Think rave here, people.
~Then, my body, which is hanging by ropes, starts to fly through the audience, and move to the music.
~And now, the confetti.
~Lights flashing, confetti flying, silver suited men, load fast music, and me, flying throughout the crowd.

This idea might be borrowed...
I haven't thought of the "grand finally" as of yet.
At first I thought about just going back to blackness, and everything would go back to normal when the lights came back on.
But I'm not sure yet.

the tool concert on wednesday was awsome, per usual. The sound of course sucked, all thanks to the sports arena, or as Tony put it, I think he said the Sports Toilet. Anyway it was funny. That's all.

I must be really lazy. Tomorrow I have all of three things to do, and I am dreading the upcoming twenty-four hours like no other. I have to take my ACT, which will take about four dreadul hours. I'm not a really good test taker. I just don't function well. Especially at eight on the morning. Then, in order to make a little money, which is appearently important for survival these days, I am going to fand out coffee at a gun show...for a store that I don't even work for. The concept of dainty coffee and pastries at a gun show makes me raise an amused eyebrow. But hey, it's money. That's all that counts. Unless it doesn't coutn and I make ten bucks for five hours of labor. So, ACT from 8-12, confusing odd job from 13-5, and then baby-sitting starts at 9:30. In the span of time between 5 and 9 I told a friend that I would hang out with her. I feel kind of bad because sometimes hanging out with friends is like a chore to me and I don't feel like I'm giving them a good deal. But what can you do? I'll have a nice time, but sort of want to be sleeping for the entire experience. Sorry. Well, I have to go to bed, and get up at 6. I pray to the god's of the ACT that they let me get something above a twenty; a twenty-six might be nice. But my tendency is to do poorly so I expect an eighteen. Then when we all (several friends are taking the test at the same time) get out test back and everyone is so fucking excited about their twenty-nine's and thirty-one's I will cry because I got a shitty number, and manage to base my living worth on that number. Then my boyfriend will ask what I got compaired to his twenty-nine, and I won't want to tell him because he'll be saying, "You're smart, it can't be that bad. What's your score???" So, I'll tell him, and then comes that look on his face that says to me that I really did do bad, and he kind of feels stupid for thinking that I was smart, when I'm really not, but he's in denial about that issue. That look that says, "Oh, um, I guess you really did do bad. Silly me for telling you that 'it can't be that bad'. I guess I just shouldn't have asked." But ehen comes those partronizing words like, "Oh, that's not bad..." Or the excuses for stupidity, "You're just not a good test taker..." Oh how I just cannot wait for tomorrow! Oh JOY! Oh Rapture! Oh stab myself in the face for ever not paying attention in high school. Fuckin a...

I just wrote a song today. It's not important.

Today we recieved our soccer team shirts. On the back of them were the names of all of the team members. But wait, there was one name missing...and it-it was...my name. I know it was an honest mistake, and I'm sure that the other members won't care, but the fact of the matter is that I work hard, very hard for the team. I just feel a little left out, because they sure aren't going to do a thing about it.

I have hundreds of pages to read in several books. I should probably be doing that right now.

This whole "blog" thing is the most efficient was to be extremely introspective. I'll bet that thousands of kids make themselves feel different about themselves via this site. I know I do. I certainly do. But at least I also get the opportunity to write down my songs, like "I wish I were a kitty", for example. That one's going to the number one slot, you just wait. Anyway...

{painful sigh, with a faint hint of longing}

Oh me on my. Those are probably the only words that can describe how I feel at the present moment. Oh. Me. Oh. My. Yep, that's about it. I am lonesome and fatigued. I am sorry and grieved. I try. I am brittle and weak. I am humble and meek. I try and I try. I am sore and bleeding. I am praying and pleading. I try and I try and I try. I am learining and thinking. I am dying and sinking. I try and I try and I try and I try. I am listening and hearing. I am fretting and fearing. I try and I try and I try and I try and I try. I am working and respecting. I am loosing and rejecting. I try and I try and I try and I try and I try and I try. I am longing and weeping. I am searching and seeking. I am I am trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and trying and trying...broken.

{sigh}

{exhale}

{breath}

It's so easy to hear things that aren't there. It is so easy to feel things that aren't there. It is so easy. So easy.

So easy for me.

I feel the pain of guilt. I feel the pain of want. I feel the pain of weakness. I feel the pain of failure. I feel the pain of defeat.

That will not be me.

I want to feel the pain of bleeding this time around. I want to feel the pain of all pains. Not sorry. Pain.

Hurting.
Wounded.
Bleeding.
Scraping.
Scruffing.
Bleeding.
Trembling.
Falling.
Bleeding.
Melting.
Dripping.
Bleeding.

Blood.

Bleeding.

Once again, I haven't posted in a while. Only about 13 days left of school. That's a relief, but what isn't a relief is the fact that I have a bit of homework to catch up on. So very much to do. Mostly the things that are haunting me are my art projects and my final project for American Studies. Ya, I don't know how that's going to turn out... I hope for the best always. I am tired. Tired and pudgy. I think that the tiredness derives from the pudginess and the pudginess comes from the sleep and the anti-exercise. Ah well, what are you going to do... Nothing if you ask me. Absolutly nothing. I miss Scout. I miss summer. I miss legs worth showing. I miss being tan. Boy do I sound utterly absorbed with myself and perfectionism. Pff. That's sad in itself. What I miss the mot is not caring. Man, I really don't have too much to say tonight. Except this: let go. I was just thinking.

I think that it is sufficient to say that I haven't blogged in a long time. Does that make sense? Who cares... It's one o'clock in the bloody morning, and I am still at work. Ah, well. Got to get that raise. Ha. That reminds me of "Liar Liar" when the secretary gives Jim Carey his "raise". (her middle finger...tee-hee) Whew Donna, that is some good stuff. Anyhow. I am super tired, BUT I must go home and finish my homework. I was wondering earlier why I was so gosh doarn tired. Then it occurred to me, it's was those God damned muscle relaxers. I think that I'm really sick. I can't seem to not be nauseous. I sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, which, mind you, I am not. I'm just tired and cranky. Or maybe I would just rather be at home than here at the death-torium a.k.a. work/job/place. I feel shitty... You know. I was thinking. If someone sneaked into my work place with a gun, and was going to kill me, I would look at them with my sad, dull eyes and say, "Hey man, I hate my job, I don't care what you do to this place, just let me go home and sleep." And the guy/girl for that matter would say, "Oh, ok, off you go." It's just that easy. Try it sometime, see what happens. I don't know...I was just thinking.

So, yeah. My back really itches...a lot. And my chest itches...a lot. That and I got glasses. For me eyeballs that is
Maybe it's these darned glasses that are making me itch so much...Hmmm...could be...

Tomorrow I get to go to Columbus at 6:30 in the morning. That is, I have to be at the high school at 6:30 am. Oh Joy! Oh Rapture! So then, I suppose that sleep is at hand. Wait a second- I just thought of how convenient this whole day field trip will be: tonight, I don't have to do any homework!!! So, sincerely now folks: Oh Joy!!! Oh Rapture!!! What more could a girl ask for?



...



Damn.


Remember how I was just super happy? Well, my bi-polarness is kicking in again and I have suddenly become aware of a frightening realization that may alter my life...oh...not again...Why oh why...Dammit...I hate it when I don't think, and make stupid decisions like this. It happens all the time. All the time. All the time. I wish that I was really seclusive and no one knew anything about me. I wish that things were how they were last summer. So much innocence. Yet so much curiosity. What went wrong. Where did I end up? Shit. I've gone and done it again.

I keep failing my insightfulness. I was looking/trying to think of a song that would fit into what I was feeling. {I did this so that I wouldn't have to write a long blog. Crafty- eh?} Well, I couldn't think of one. So I thought to myself- "Megan, just write what you're feeling. Make up your own song." I got all worked up for it. You bet. I was feeling deep. But I realized that listening to oldies causes one to not be insightful at all. Hearing songs like "Big Bad John" and "Papa's gotta Brand New Bag" {sidenote: I do intend to kill my brother. Realization: I am the only one that I know that is the older sister with two little brother...I am alone in my pain...} made me laugh. Especially when I thought- "I wish I had a brand new bag..."

Anyhow, I am so tired. I don't want to go to Toronto. I wish I were drunk. I wish I were stoned. I hate being here at my house. I am a terrible person. But I don't care. Do you think the cops could make drug-busts through the blogs? I hope not. I'm stupid. I don't mean to be all morose here people, don't interpret this incorrectly. I just want some pot. That's all. I just want it for my trip to Toronto. Is that too much to ask? I expect some of you to silently judge me for wanting pot. Hey, that's okay with me. Do your thing. Consider me less a person. It really doesn't phase me anymore. I have found that people just don't change. So why bother caring what they think. So if anyone wants to sell me some pot I would be much abliged. I don't know how to spell that...

I just read this:



meg,

ya know, mood rings are funny things. mine canges color out of no where. it didn't even explain what the colors ment on the package so i never know how i feel. i have to just feel what i feel instead of lookin at this handy ring that i have. i want to know what i feel with out having to look deep into my soul. i'll make up my own code:



green w/ yellow outside will mean that i'm all hot and bothered abnout something. example; mr rogers comes on tv and starts changing his shoes. my ring turns green with yellow outside because i mean why would you change your shoes to go into your house. why wouldn't you just wear no shoes. i mean its your house mr rogers!! come on now



yellow with pink outside will mean thatmy favorite simpsons episode is on. ya know the one where they turn into the thompsons and they moveinto the boat house and then sideshow bob follows them cause he wants bart dead and thats why they moved because bob wrote them letters inhis own blood. then the rakes. and the brownie and the chain saw. thats good stuff. too bad it hasn't turned yellow with pink outside yet. i miss sideshow bob.maybe someday



all black will mean that i just got out of the shower cause thats what it looks like when i get out of the shower. thats ring sure is smart.



blue with light blue outside will mean thaT i am hungry simple as that


uh oh better go its turning blue with light blue outside. i must follow the ring. its the master of me. why did i just write that i think its taking over my brain. mood rings are good must buy more mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings mood rings

love scout



And it made me laugh a lot.

I wish that my brain could be tape recorded somehow...I would make a fortune, because I think the best things. My mind is always so chock-full of hillarious, insightful, crazy, affectionate, interestingly intriguing things. I just cannot handle it sometimes. It's so frusterating because I want to write it all down, but I always forget. That's what's frusterating. Anyhow, I have a paper to write, a painting to finish, a monoprint to finish, a lino-cut to finish, a book to finish, and sleep to get. The funny thing is that despite all of that, I just went to see Josh. And it was worth it. Because I love that kid. Hee-hee: kid. So I was thinking today that it would be so great, if you wanted to run away, to mail yourself. That's right. This is what I would do...

You see I know how to ship things, and this is what the process would be:
Make myself a wooden crate, big enough for me and food and drink and possibly pillows and blankets. Put airholes in it. For breathing purposes. You would have to lay down in the crate, cover it with two pieces of plywood, {sp} and bring the drill into the crate with you. That way you could close it and possibly re-open it. (You would have to call CCX before you got in though and fill out all of the paperwork before this all though.) Then you would wait for CCX to come and take the package!!! IT'S THAT EASY!!! No, really, it would be that easy. I would do it. My face itches. A lot. Remember that time that Josh had roids??? I do...

Today my skin got chapped. It got so chapped that when I put lotion on my hands and arms it burned so badly. I was reading other people's blogs just now, and some of them made me laugh so hard. They weren't funny in a "ha-ha" sense, they were just melodranatic and stupid. I feel bad critiquing other's writing, but I consider it to be a sort of benefit to being a writer in progress. And I suppose there is no one to stop me from thinking what I want anyway, so......

I think that I will go home and take a shower. Then, after I am clean, I will fill up the tub and take a bath. I just think that baths when you are dirty are gross. It's like bathing in a tub of your own filth water. And ew. That's what I say. I have a runny nose. Nasal sex.... Oh, and ew again. That's what I think now, thanks Josh. So, I give up on food. Screw it. It never did anything good for me. Stupid life-giving food. I'll show it. You bet I will. But first I need sleep. No, wait, actually, first I need to go home because it is 10:30 and I am still at my wretched place of employment. Death shall come to you all. I don't know why I wrote that last thing...must be the tired. And I'm off.

success.