My Thoughts On...

I hate that my enemies are so accessible.  I want to be able to just forget about them.  The problem is, we had friends in common.  So now, when I go to some of my friends' profiles she's just staring at me from the Top 8 box, grinning.  Letting me know that I still haven't escaped her. 

At least she's last in the box, and I'm ahead of her.  But my picture is right next to hers.  But it's just a picture of blueberries in the shape of a smile, so I guess that's okay for now.

Anyway, once I saw her staring at me, I had to look at her profile.  I couldn't resist.  I had to check up on her.  I kept hoping I'd find out something awful happened to her, that she finally got what she deserved after what she did to me.

What I found out was:

• She has friends.
• She hasn't gotten fat.
• She's still with Creepy Paul, which could be good or bad depending on how you look at it.  (He's a really ugly manwhore.)
• She's going to be a nurse, which fits her fucking PERFECTLY.  (Dumb slut who just wants money, but can't commit enough to become a doctor, and would rather just sleep with them.)
• She hasn't died or come down with some horrible disease.
• She still has really bad acne and nasty teeth.
• She still writes.

I'm not satisfied.

"It's funny... I'm losing friends I wish were alive, and you're finding enemies you wish were dead."  --Cameron

I love you, Cameron.  You're the boy who saved my life, and the man who made it worth living.

Woke up around 3:30.   It's officially summer vacation, so I don't have to pretend I've been in class all day anymore.  It's a relief and a strain, because although I don't have to be so sneaky now... I get this "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL DAY?!"  (meaning, other than cleaning) which can be even more stressful at times.  What really irks me is when she says it when I've spent half the day cleaning.

Plans for today:

• Have a cup of Giant Beagle black tea that's like two years old.
• Have some applesauce.
• Start to learn the lyrics to the Lucky Star opening song (Motteke!  Sailor Fuku).
• Start to learn the full dance if I have the energy.
• Watch a million episodes of it (currently on episode 10).
• Maybe play some SyrupTales because the 3rd anniversary event (lasts all May) is AMAZING and I lvl up twice as fast.  (77.76% to lvl 26!)  AND THOSE STUPID EGGS ARE GONE!  YESSS!
• Eat more, here and there.
• Find out if I'm going to Niki's tomorrow night.
• Tell Niki that my mom wants to know if Niki/her mom want some decorations from my graduation party for hers. (Done! XD)
• Try to work on Cameron's band logo thing.
• Try not to fall asleep while my mom's getting ready for work in the morning.

Yet another fight with my mom.  I'm going to Cameron's tomorrow to escape and hopefully find enough comfort to smile again.  Hopefully I can peep hang with Niki on Friday too.  Return her precious NANA, which I finished tonight, and bring those presents.

I've decided against the goats' milk.   I have to save up to get out of here as soon as is humanly possible.  And I don't want to give Cameron more stress by taking me to pick it up every week.  He'll have enough to deal with when he moves back in with his parents.  And now they don't "support his entrepreneurship" because they want school to be his main focus.  

I am so fucking sick and tired of them trying to tell him that he can only do one thing at a time.  He can do PLENTY of things at one time with no stress as long as they leave him the fuck alone.  He's had a job while going to school for YEARS even while putting up with their shit all the time.  His parents are such a glass ceiling, but they think that all he accomplishes should be accredited to them.  What a load of bullshit.  They only thing they've done is made him sick and unhappy.  The things they consider his accomplishments were just his way of trying to shut them up, or just get the hell out of the house.  All that family does is try to outdo and impress each other.  All Cameron wants is to make them care about him like parents are supposed to.  They treat their children like trophy-wives. 

I still don't know how to teach him to be happy.  I haven't quite figured it out myself.

People tend to find their flock.  When you're going through rough times, you can end up relating best to people in similar situations.  Sometimes that works out.  You can help each other through the hardships, be each others' crutch and shoulder to cry on.  But sometimes, when you care a lot, you just hide it.  After all, they have their own unbearable problems to deal with, right?  Wouldn't want to burden them even more.  That's when it doesn't work out.  At all.

But how do you find the limit?  There has to be a line of some sort, separating what you should and shouldn't talk about.  Can you estimate another person's breaking point?  What if you're both on the edge?  If you can't deal with something on your own, isn't it okay to have someone who you know cares about you help?  What brings on that feeling of guilt?  That hesitant pause before sending the call?  The sudden drop when you hear laughter on the other end and hate yourself for killing it? 

Don't they deserve that laughter?  After all, they've been there for you countless times before.  This is no way to thank them.  So the problem becomes less than it is, or isn't even mentioned.  Part of you knows they'd want to help if they knew how you felt, but they just sounded too happy to bring down for someone so weak.

Sometimes... this is what I feel.

So, I called Anita, from the goat farm place.  She was on her way to work, so I didn't want to keep her on the phone while she was drivng for too long.  She's going to email me a copy of the herd share contract when she gets home tonight for me to look over, so I'll know what's going on and can ask whatever questions I might have.  She's got a southern accent and sounds almost exactly like my Aunt Paulette (gramma's sister).  I'm so excited to go to the farm next weekend!  I hope Saturdays are okay.  And I hope I can change the milk pickup day (once a week) if Saturdays ever become inconvenient.  If it's not mentioned in the contract I'll be sure to ask her about it.

I'm going to Cameron's dorm tomorrow for the night (only two more weekends until he moves back in with his parents), then to a cousin's sweet sixteen with Niki on Friday.  Then Saturday IS Niki's birthday and I have a BRILLIANT PLAN.  I know that last week was technically her mom's weekend... BUT.  Her brother ruined it and I think she went back to her dad's.  I'm still a bit fuzzy on that situation. 

Anyway.  What IF me and Niki stayed at her mom's on Friday after Shelby's party and had a peep hang, AND OPENED PRESENTS AT MIDNIGHT, THE BEGINNING OF THE (GOOD MORNING!!!) BIRTHDAY OF NIKI!  Kuzn.  Let me know what you think, eh?  It can be like a mini-party.  I can't wait two weeks to give you your presents and peep hang.  XD  You'll still get money in a card from my mom at your party too.

Also.  Will my mother EVER shut up?  She yelled at me because I made pancakes when I got home.

Why is that a bad thing to do?  I cleaned up after myself.  I didn't break or burn anything. 

Apparently I'm not supposed to "use up all her stuff".  Oh.  Okay.  I didn't know that 1 1/4 cups of flour, a couple teaspoons of baking powder, a dash of vanilla and cinnamon... and stuff I bought was going to impact the kitchen supply so devastatingly.

Also. 

Stro-obelight.  Who-o-o-o-o-o-oah.  Yeah!

HAPPY EARTH DAY! 

In celebration, I hugged a tree.

TERRIBLY terribly sorry about my hiatus from journaling.  I've just been so obsessive with everything that I do.  I'll start something, and suddenly I have to go to bed because my mom will be up for work in ten minutes.  That leaves very little time for... well, anything.

First thing's first.

I have become one (of two) mother(s) of a very sneaky little hamster.  He also has two fathers.

His name is Takumi (derived from the main character of Initial D) and he lives in a college dorm room.  (The name of the college and dorm room have been edited out for the sake of protection of the individual.)  I'll have pictures ASAP.

My grandmother will be moving in with us this summer.  It's top secret (as is Takumi) and no one in my family can know about it yet (besides Niki, because she can keep a secret AND we're planning home-related things).

Before we moved into this house a couple years ago, we lived with gramma.  There was BARELY enough room.  This house is less than half that size.  This will be the reason I give my mother for why I'm moving out.

Hopefully she won't be as pissed as if I was just moving out because she makes me want to kill things.  Namely her.

I got a bunch of stuff from the local health food shop that I'm super excited about.  I'm crossing it off of my list until I run out again.  I got Niki some stuff for her birthday (which is this weekend).  MUAHAHAHAHA SECRETS.

Raw goats' milk.  It's what Jesus would do.

Goats' milk is quite nearly in my possession.  Raw, organic.  Hand-milked into a jar and put in a fridge.  I'm investing in a herd, buying a share of it so that I'm a partial owner of the herd (and therefore, of the milk).  It's a lovely way to get healthy milk without breaking the state's raw dairy laws.  Have I mentioned that I hate our government? 

Also, Jonjon (who lives in our hat) has returned from his two year(ish) hat-party or whatever he was up to.  He is The Great White Faggot of the North.  And damned proud to be.

Also, Niki's reading 1984 in English and I'm super psyched to talk about it with her.  EPIC book.  I really hope her dad can get his own place soon.  Sean(aka Andrew) is driving her up a wall with his selfishness and idiocy.  Redundant.  Hmm... 

I've been playing my Pokemon Gameboy games a lot lately.  Yellow and Silver versions.  I have Crystal too.  I want to get a Nintendo DS Lite and get Leaf Green/Fire Red and Diamond/Pearl (one of each / thing).

I hate when I don't write a journal for a long time, because I always feel like I need to catch up on every little detail I've missed.

So, I'll try to recapitulate without going overboard.

Last Wednesday Cameron stopped by (he brought Christina into town and they'd hung out at his house a bit) and gave me shoes he ordered me for our anniversary.  He wanted me to come to the city with him overnight, but since my mom thought I'd have class the next day, I went on Thursday instead.  We had a metric shit-ton of fun, particularly in the baseball department... but even more on Friday.  And we took ten thousand naps, because we stayed up until... I think like 5am.  I was so out of it that at one point I shouted,"SHIT!  FUCK ASS TOURETTES!"  And we made a white chocolate sandwich with Law & Order.  He doesn't like it when I get into the details with the general public.  XD 

Then, Saturday was Niki's brother's birthday party (he's 15... OR IS IT 51?!  AHAHAHAHA!!!  How many times was that joke made during the cutting of the cake?  Four?) and we basically spent the whole time watching funny videos online.  I was introduced to the musical stylings of Richard Cheese, which are absolutely HILARIOUS.  He covers songs like Welcome to the Jungle in a Sinatra-esque fashion.  It's incredible.  Also, my teeth turned green from the REALLY UGLY FROSTING BALLOONS.  Then we went to Niki's dad's/boyfriend's/boyfriend's family's house and I met all the peeps there.  It was fun and HOLY SHIT HOW IS IT ALREADY TEN O'CLOCK?!  I need to start waking up before 2pm.  I met everyone there, and me and Niki hid in the bathroom for girl talk about my SHIT!  FUCK ASS TOURETTES! weekend, and I showed her yoga to clear up bits of Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging but we got interrupted before I could show her my cool move which is a lot like falling over... because it is (what did he call it when he came down the stairs?  Lesbian orgy?) and drank three thousand cans of mountain dew half way.

Also, Nutty & Moosewinkle/I've got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is shooting you in the face.  And my Aunt Donna told me hilarious stories about being drunk.  One was from the night before.  And I'm actually going to get to come to our family's 6th annual Memorial Day party FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.  I've already told Cameron to mark his calender.  I can't wait to see my family drunk!  I've never seen a drunk person in my entire life.  At least not while they were drunk.  I was always sheltered by my mother from these parties, but I'm not allowing it this year.  I'm busting out from my shell!!!

Speaking of busting, I'm so sick of American bras.  WHAT'S THIS?!  SOMETHING ELSE AMERICA CAN'T GET RIGHT?!  HOW SHOCKING!  I've measured myself properly, according to two different systems.  American, and English.  When I was reading about the new English system last night, it was telling how the American system is WRONG and only applied in the 1930s when bras were first being designed.  Nice work, England.  Keeping up with the times.

English Version:

First, you measure all the way around your ribcage either just above or just below your nunga-nungas.  If you get an odd number, round up to the next even one (they only make even numbered sizes).  Then you measure all the way around your body, going over the fullest part of your chets.  Then you subtract the difference.  The number of inches determines the cup size.

American Version?

Exactly the same except for one thing.  They tell you to add five inches to the first measurement.  WHAT?  On what planet does that make sense?  Planet America.  That's where.

My ribcage is 25 inches around.  I round up to 26.  My chets is 30 inches around.

According to Merry Old England I should wear a 26D.  (I'm having trouble finding below a 28.  Damn you, skinny ribcage.)

According to America, I should add five inches to the 25, coming up with 30 for my ribcage.  But thirty is my chets measurement, too.  So, I subtract the difference to find the cup size and get zero.  So according to America, I'm a 30... Oh bloody hell.

Tuesday

I've just had one of my most bizarre dreams ever.  It began normally enough.  I was riding with Cameron to... somewhere, and we were passing by an amusement park.  I told him how we'd pass it every time my dad picked me up to spend the summer with him, but he never took us there.  Then we went by this trail that led into the woods, and I was thinking about how it was probably just designed to keep people from going off of little paths (because you're not allowed to) and staying in the cities/suburbs, when I saw a cat stuck up in a tree.  In the tree it was white, but then it jumped down and was suddenly a brown and grey tabby, and it just... landed in the car.  Which was probably like fifty feet away from the tree.

So, then all of a sudden we were in this building, and I was still holding the cat, and Cameron and I had been talking about something for a while when I noticed that the cat was sucking on my forehead, and it REALLY hurt, and the spot on my head was all bloody.  So, I tried to pull it off of me, but it was ridiculously strong, and eventually Cameron and I flung it across the room.  Then it was fine.  It just walked around like a normal happy, careless cat.  Until like thirty seconds later when it started to look like it was dying, moving really slowly and dizzily.  So then it tried to come after me again, and I had to strangle it.  And while this was going on (because even though I was strangling the kitten, it wasn't dying or even hurt) a big dog came at us and I had to hold its mouth closed with my other hand.  It had horse teeth, which was scary enough in itself.

We managed to get away from the animals, and ended up in a room with a lot of people.  And some of them were starting to act strangely and come after us too.  So everyone was just killing these zombies with a vampiric apetite, and trying to make sure not to kill any of the normal people.  And there were weapons everywhere!  I saw one gun, but the rest were strange axes and really dull swords, and big cleavers.  But none of the zombies would die!  We just had to keep cutting them into smaller and smaller pieces until they couldn't  move anymore.  It was SO horrible.  I was being attacked by this one man who was trying to bite at me.  I had a big cleaver with a really jagged blade, and I kept hacking away at his mouth, cutting off different parts of his face until he couldn't open his jaw.  Then I just cut off his head with one cleaver swipe, followed by a couple whacks with a dull sword.  I've never had such a graphic dream before.

After loads of stabbing, slicing, and all around things that would make me throw up if I saw them in a movie, they were all in pieces on the ground.  But then, of course, the pieces started to mysteriously slide across the floor and an arm grabbed my leg, knocking me to the ground on my stomach and dragging me backwards.  Luckily a girl who was standing near me was able to get me loose and we all ran out of that room and shut the door.

Then we were in what looked like a school hallway.  You could hear echoing screams and dripping all around.  The zombies were everywhere now, but none were too close by.  So we ran for the stairs.  I was on my own now, flinging myself over one banister after another, somehow always managing to grab onto the bottom edges of the staircases.  There were endless flights of stairs, but it didn't matter, because it was flooded and after about four flights I was in the water.

With merpeople.

One of them turned me into a mermaid, saying that it would make me immune to the zombies, and that the zombies only come down to where they lived once a day to check for humans.  We were more grey and had scales that were almost stonelike in appearance and bumpy like coral, rather than the typical mermaid image.  Slightly more similar to the merpeople in Harry Potter.  But not scary like them, and with more humanlike faces.  Anyway, some of the zombies were coming towards the water, so I sank down enough to take my shirt off so they wouldn't know I was human a minute ago.  It was okay though, because I also had scaley boobs and didn't have to feel naked, along with confused and fearing for my life. 

We swam down to where the merpeople lived and my new eyes adjusted to the darkness.  I was basically just... there for a while.  I don't remember anything really happening at that point until we came back up to the surface later.  It was me and two or three other merpeople, and they were getting snacks from the building.  Like, getting up out of the water with legs and coming back with styrofoam plates full of weird looking food.  They were all excited saying that this thing was called a cookie, and this was something or other, and blah blah blah.  I just watched them and sort of sat on my fin which was bent like I was sitting on my feet on the stairs in the water.

I went back down and suddenly there were only three other merpeople in existence.  It was a father and his two daughters.  They all hated me but pretended they were my friends, and I could tell.  I was supposed to be staying with them, and I went over to the father because he wanted to tell me something.  He was in this little room that looked like a little sea cave, looking at all of these fish eggs.  HUNDREDS of them.  Then he gave me a gun and told me to go up to the surface and find and kill my father.  I asked him if there were still zombies and he said no, just the animals.

I swam up the surface and noticed one of the daughters stalking me in the shadows.  I knew it was a trap.  I made it to the surface and walked around with the gun like a cop.  Everything was painted yellow and pink, and there was loud music coming from one of the doors.  Probably Jim Morrison.  And that's when I woke up.

I'm staring at a little plastic Hello Kitty with a pink dress, a red apple, and a bow to match.  It won't even look me in the eye.  There's not a snowball's chance in Hell (the hot one with the fiery lakes and whatnot, not the frozen one) that it's going to make my problems any more understandable.

Why is everything so confusing? 

No one person's thoughts can be transferred directly into another mind without losing something in translation.  Language is a poor medium, but is sadly the best that we have got.

Sometimes I just want to take a vow of silence.  And force it upon all the idiots around me as well.  It is so difficult to try to explain things to lesser life forms.  No matter how simple the things may be.  Especially when you can't even finish a sentence without being interrupted.  Cameron asked me to call his mom and tell her some things that he was upset about, and that we were talking about it in my driveway, which is why  he was a couple hours late.  It was 8:45pm.  This is (roughly) what was said:

"Hello?"

"Hi, uhm, its Jen."

"What is it, Jen?"

"Cameron's really upset, and he was crying and *sniff--*"

"WHY is he upset?"

"Well, he's really not happy with himself, and he's afraid to--"

"I KNOW he's upset!  This is bullshit!  His sister told us all about how he's upset!  Is he there right now?"

"No, he just left.  *sniff*  But... I wanted to let you know because he's afraid to talk to you about it, because--"

"He talked to his sister for hours!  He tried to talk to his dad about it the other night, but he was with YOU all weekend!  And he's coming home, and this and that, and now he's NOT, and THEN what?!  HOW is he supposed to talk to us when he's with YOU, tell me THAT, Jen!"

What?!

"Uhm... *sniff*  I don't know... I'm just trying to tell you that--"

"Morgan already TOLD us everything we need to know.  I don't know what kind of game Cameron's playing, but he's not focusing on school because he's focused on you and YOUR problems.  Last summer he was focused on getting YOU a job, and then he got you a job and then he was focused on keeping YOU safe, and now his grades are dropping and now he's getting out of the honors program!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, I'm trying--"

"Well what ARE you talking about?  He's never acted like this, and now all of a sudden he's started lying to us for, oh... THREE YEARS now!  He was always a good son and a good student, and now look at him!  Where do you think all his problems came from?  He's had it SO EASY.  No other kids had it as easy as him, and now look at all the problems he has!"

"The problem is--"

"The PROBLEM is that nobody seems to have a sense of TIME.  He said he'd be back here, and then HOURS later he's not even-- what would YOUR mother say, Jen?!"

"I... I don't know.  I'm trying to tell you how he feels abou--"

"About WHAT?!"

"About himself, and--"

"I already know about all this!  And if he feels SO BAD then why don't we just have him COMMITED?!"

"What?!  No, that's--"

"Well, WHY not?!"

"I DON'T think that would be good for him.  When he's al--"

"How do YOU know what's good for him?!  Are YOU a doctor?"

"No, are YOU?"

"Morgan is!"

"Well, did she tell you to do that or--"

"Oh!  WELL, if you just know SO much and want to 'play doctor,' how about I just give you MORGAN'S number and you can go talk to HER about it!"

"Please, I'm just saying it's hard for him to talk about it because he's afraid he wouldn't be accepted, and--"

"He WOULDN'T think that!  We LOVE him.  We SUPPORT him!"

"Well, it's just that... he's afraid of disappointing you--"

"NO, there's no reason for him to think that, and he's here right now so I'm going to go talk to MY SON."

And she hung up on me.

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Easter was fun.  Me and Cameron's third anniversary (actually today, but celebrated a day early due to it being on Easter) was fun.  Peep hanging at Niki's was fun. 

Coming home after the peep hang was awful.  Coming home after the anniversary was worse.  My mom skipped Easter but still made me a basket.  We both cried because we hate and love each other at the same time.

Cameron's still fighting as hard as he can to make everyone happy, which no human could ever succeed in.  He tries to make me happy by spending time with me.  He tries to make his parents happy by hiding the fact that he wants to see me, and pretending that school is the only thing important to him besides his mother.  They cancel each other out horribly, and he never does what's really important.  Make himself happy.

I feel drained and alone.

Happy Easter.

I took a trip to the piddly diddly department, then snuck another cookie (this one had frosting) but my crazy urge still didn't feel satisfied (surprise, surprise).  I ended up reading through my past month of journals.  By Tuesday I'll have been writing in here for exactly a month.  I'll be sure to have another cookie in celebration.

So, tomorrow's restaurant trip was switched to Thursday because my mother is an idiot and decided that we have too many left-overs to go out tomorrow.  So I won't get to leave the house on St. Patrick's Day at all, and I'll be stuck sitting around eating left-overs with the uber-bitch of death.  Cheers.

It also means that I won't show up at Niki's until after dinner for our Thursday night peep hang (it's her first night of spring break).  Which sucks because we are the expert chefs of the century.  At the very least we can still make dessert and Friday's breakfast.  Possibly squeezing in a second dinner, depending on how late we stay up.  I may even show up before they've eaten (since they usually eat late).  But full.  That would be wretched.  I should eat all the left-overs before my mom gets home tomorrow so we can go out then.  I'm hungry enough to now.  I think I'll get some of that stuffing, call Cameron, and go to bed.