I suppose I should have mentioned that I've done this journal deal for a year now. The anniversary was the 26th, I believe. I've learned many things in the past year. 1) People are assholes. 2) It can always get worse. 3) Censorship is a way of saving your ass, not a hindrance to your freedom of speech. 4) Dirk's really cute.
Dead people are not meant to e-mail me. It's against the rules. And I'm changing the password to my e-mail account, because I think that the aforementioned deceased person has figured out my password and screwed with the filters.
My e-mail is specifically programmed not to accept dead e-mail messages. Of course, I didn't read it. He probably just didn't like the "Dear Mr. Fishie" song.
So, this week-end, we went out with Katie. The highlight of the evening was when Katie and I were in Borders, and I picked up a mousepad that had a blurry, semi-repetitive picture on it. Showing it to Katie, I asked, "What is this, one of those "Hidden Eye" dealies?"
Katie took it from me an hit me with it. "No, it's Monet's Waterlilies!" I can tell already that this little episode will be mentioned frequently in the future.
What, it's my fault that Monet apparently decided to jump on the "Hidden Eye" bandwagon when it was a fad?
Alex is trying to panic quietly. He had all the office's money for a flower arrangement sitting out on his desk while he was running errands. In cash. The flower arrangement's for someone's funeral. Anyway, Letisha and I were standing at his desk, making loud cracks about taking the money and buying lunch with it (it was a hefty $200), so our manager got angry that Alex left the money out and took it. No-one has told Alex what happened to the money. So he's panicking and giving me funny looks.
Practice was absofuckinglutely fantastic. You have no idea. Practice has never gone this well before. We have never grooved quite so wildly before. We have never before sounded so utterly fantastic. Doshu is working out really well as our new lead singer. He's even going to come up with lyrics for our perusal.
Add to this the fact that I faced down the Evil Other Band and came out ahead, and you've got a winner of a day. They showed up a half hour early, and proceeded to mill around the antechamber of our rehearsal space. There's a window that looks into the antechamber, so we could see them milling around. So, I had the guys stop playing, went into the antechamber, and asked them to wait out in the hallway, because they were distracting us.
And they went! No arguments, many apologies for being so early.
I'm still sick.
Sunday was...less fantastic. Not only is my period still here, but I think I'm bleeding to death. And I was in a shitty mood all day, and it eventually backfired on me. Sunday night I took a nap.
I have this horrible hissing laugh right now. Sometimes I make myself laugh to hear the odd hissing because I might not hear that noise again. I'm very fragile lately.
Every day, like Jesus
He's not up there, he can't see us
Maybe
Eyes uplifted slowly for effect....I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. Or a lot of nothing, your choice. I'd like to be asleep right now. I'd like to take a nap right now. I'd like to dream that I'm sleeping next to Dirk again. What I think no-one understands is that, despite what problems we may have, I feel peaceful when I'm next to Dirk. I feel at home when he holds me. I don't have complicated criteria for happiness.
I think I died.
My father has a little ritual he goes through at SuperBowl time. He gets some beer, gets some chips, and watches the game. By himself. My mother and I aren't into sports.
It's actually kind of a sad tradition. He has no friends. His family treats him like a freak. He just gets tipsy alone in front of the television (while my mother and I were watching AbFab)
Actually, living at home is pretty grim.
(4:30 pm)So, the dead one has posted in my guestbook again. What did I tell you? He lives for this stuff. He honestly cannot take being ignored. Go pay attention to him -- he needs it. I'm going to ignore him again, exactly as though he was dead.
What he wrote was very pretty, though hypocritical -- hit and run crap. Isn't that exactly what he's doing?
Back to the realm of the Hollow Men with him. I shall not mention him further. And I'm not going to respond to the rest of what he said....to do so imbues the words with importance. I don't hate him anymore. I never hate dead people, it serves no purpose.
I'm going to visit Dirk again tonight, perhaps just to watch wrestling with him. I was disappointed in the Dilbert show. I was expecting it to be better than the comic strip, somehow.
Dirk rather badly wants to move out...as soon as possible. His mother has decided to quit her job, for reasons known only to her. She's going to be out of luck when Dirk moves out, because he's the only other source of income in the house besides his father. However will she purchase her Avon supplies?
Here's something interesting....sothere.com. Never-sent letters to the ones we love(d).
You can run into some pretty ugly people online. It makes you respect the good people more.