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polyethylene, those fake things I hide
(2001-04-09) 7:51 p.m.

Who's more insane? My mother or me? Umm.

Don't feel obliged to answer or anything. Just think. Me, who is a freak of anything.. anything that can't seem to satisfy my tastes. And when that happens, I go on a rampage to try and fix it.. mostly unsuccessfully. At times, I would make it but then I'd find myself unsatisfied again.

Anyway. Back to my insane old mother, the same person that brought me out into this world. She starts as such a traditional mother. I almost love it. She calls for dinner and I come and sit so excitedly, for my stomach is growling and I am hungry.

I sit and see the bowl of red stuff. I'd question what it is, but I have better judgement than that. Turns out that it is what she calls "red rice". It looked like red beans to me.. but she assured me that it wasn't beans. She says that it's nutritional, so eat it. Okay. I ate it. Tasted like tasteless beans, but nevertheless, beans! You'd be freaked out when you see that bowl too.

And yesterday, she was in a frenzy to bake bread. One of those small pieces, those ones in bakery shops. She makes hot dog ones because my aunt said she liked those. I stood there, and stared at the leftover mashed potatoes we had that evening. I asked her, "Why not put those in the bread?" I was half joking. I left and then came back only to find out that she actually used my suggestion and put it into three of them. So of course I was the first one to taste it.

How did it taste like? Well. Plainly. Just bread with mashed potatoes. How special is that? But it's nice mashed potatoes, you see. It has many vegetables and things in it. Ha ha. I know, I'm grossing you out, aren't I?

I found a journal project thing, and I think it's a great idea. It's a journal mailing type project where people send you a journal entry (by the old fashioned system of mail) and then you have five days to write an entry yourself and mail it to someone else... so it'd continue on. Tell me.. isn't that a great idea? Of course I joined. So if you want to be part of this glory, go to herpaintedwings.org.

I feel like my life is going in circles. At least, my writing is. I think I've gone into this infinite loop that I can't get out of. You know those sound loops a lot of people use for Flash designs? Well, I'm stuck in one of them. Over and over, I see the same thing. Over and over, I do the same thing. When can it ever change?

Maybe I'm missing something.

I know that my friend, Shami has been gone for two days and I've missed her presence. It makes a difference. I hate it when you only know how much you miss a person when they're gone. But she's back but she's as busy as hell and so I didn't really even talk to her. She used to write in the We Blog but now it's dead with poison. Not really.. but there are just some certain people that aren't writing.

And meanwhile, she's producing such beautiful poetry. She talks about incompetance.. and yet she's one of the most talented people I know (in real life, as a friend) She's so great at writing. She wants to be a journalist when she grows up. Me? Nothing. I'm not even close at being good at anything. I'd write, but I just can't see myself writing as a career. I only like creative writing... and yet, I can't write stories; at least, not novels or anything. Maybe I'll just rot and that will be an occupation some day. The ability to rot. Har.

What is bothering me? I am vaguely aware that I am not the most happy person, and yet, I don't feel the pain is coming to me. I was looking at her journal, and saw how she listed her problems. I would have done the same thing, but I can't think of my problems. I think of.. blankness. Maybe I had forced my problems out of my brain.. so far beyond reach that I had made-believe that I have none.

In general though, I am a feeling person. I like to feel things.. even if it tortures me. I like how wind penetrates through me.. how the chill freezes me completely. I may be shivering, but I am also feeling.

After an argument on Sunday with my parents about my driving, (I wasn't exactly paying attention so I almost crashed) I told my mother that I'd rather bike than drive anywaaay.. So, later in the afternoon, when I wanted to go to my friends' house, my dad asked me if I wanted a ride, and my mother retorted, "No! She wants to ride her bike." And she was fully aware that it was windy and freezing. I said okay and I was off. No, the sweater wasn't much help to my warmth.. but well, this was my punishment for my comments, I guess. It was good for me anyway. I couldn't just have sat around sulking in front of my computer.

So diligent, I am, I know. I love laziness too much.. I just hate what it does to my body. I pretend that I don't care. Maybe I actually do. I care about myself? (gasp) What kind of person am I?

Too many things to think about. I'd rather just turn off the "on" button.. wouldn't you think so too?

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