Feb 14,2003- My personal day of hate

I lost some things tonight. One was merely a package of monetary value, 3 CDs that I purchased at the mall, and I know it is the hands of some fucking person right now who isn’t even aware of how discontent I feel right now. Not only the fact that $60 dollars have been metaphorically flushed down the drain but I became more aware tonight, and I have found that the more knowledge I gain, the more discontent I am with life. My envy for children’s utter oblivion of this putrid world around them is oozing from me right now. I came to the realization that if one can be so lost when they lose something so materialistic as a few miniscule CDs, one must be in essential despair if they lose something as gargantuan as a person, or the ability to do something everyone has the right to do. I have become one of “them,” one who indulges in an abundance of great things without acknowledging the existence of those who cannot. It wasn’t the fact that I lost the items, but that I technically stole the money from my father, who worked for it, something that I have not grasped the concept of yet, the act of simply LONGING to earn things… I do not want to be this person anymore, this zit-faced, piggish nimrod who tries to get attention by purposely volunteering to be a royal jester. I feel as if my dignity is out in the open for others to take, and a little piece of it is in the form of a receipt in someone’s possession right now. As for the second thing I lost, it was the need to live. On the other side of the coin, I gained the need for something however… The need to lose myself.




Feb 21, 2003-MIDNIGHT-I wish cats and dogs came fully equipped with some fUcKiNg parachutes...(o_O)

It just stopped raining. In other words my feelings of a sort of primitiveness are gone, for I view rainfall as one of the only natural things that occurs in my generation. People are too busy stuffing their heads full of useless dribble and meaningless objects of pure, mere anonymity to care about themselves, and among other things the regard for other’s feelings. What is the point of life, when all you do is walk through it with one purpose. Survive. I realized that I’ve gone throughout this whole week with only one thing on my mind…School. I am not fond of it at the least, but the fact that is what I am constantly pondering is what makes me so discontent. Humans flee to new places and consume everything there, then move somewhere else and do the same exact thing. They’ve begun to can meals as simple as casseroles and spaghetti. What if they began manufacturing the pasty cracker forms of “the body of Christ” by the box? We’ve forgotten how to enjoy simple things because we’re too busy doing things we hate, so people take advantage of this overflowing lethargy and hand us things that perpetuate it. Almost every product is made to help make someone’s life simpler. People are like ants. We’re in such a hurry to blindly do work, and not stop and enjoy the simple casualties of life, but…I digress. It is only after the rain has stopped that the materialism of things around me starts to poke at the nooks and crannies of my brain… I would like some rain tomorrow. There is a mere 30% chance.




Feb 22, 2003

No rain today.




Feb 28, 2003-"Pop tart, What's our mission? Do we know, But never listen?"

For the last five years, I have begun to dislike the person I see when I look into a mirror. These feelings of self-deprecation have evolved from something as miniscule as hesitancy to immense loathing. I don't want to be me anymore, and I have decided to take the initiative to make myself appear as someone else,someone who doesnt make it quite apparent that thier only role in life is to consume everything that they are handed. I decided to simply...Not consume. When I took into consideration that I interpret this as a permanent solution, my feelings represent a very forced smile, so to speak, and I become very skeptical of such a basic decision. So, because I've encountered such incredulousness, my decision shifted to the limitation of me consuming only 1000 calories every day. Consequently, I just ate two poptarts...and those combined equal 400 FUCKING CALORIES. Oh fiddlesticks.




Feb 28, 2003- 5 o'clock

MMM...fiddlesticks.




March 1, 2003

I hate it. This constant state of contemptuous apathy. My interest with the world is dwindling and I do not like this. I do not like this at all. This cognitive state has begun to constrict around my abilities to socialize and in a way simply CARE about others. All I want to do is, exhale, to feel comforted with the world… And it has not let me do that in the last five years. My problem is that these feelings are innate. I acquired them from contributing my observations to the world with a child-like outlook upon it. With a sense of intellectual longing, to learn something new, to obtain knowledge of benevolence, or things that children would commonly expect from their surroundings, but what I obtained was nothing of the sort. I did not like what I saw, yet I still viewed things because of a vast interest, and,unforunately the metaphorical cat died, for this transient interest blew up in my face. My mind became tired of seeing the same things day after day. I became impartial in my studies of these morbid occurrences that happened on a daily routine. People dying, buildings being blown up. Now I find myself not even caring for these people. My grades are failing, and it is not that my grades have faltered because of my feeble attempts. I plainly, do not attempt. I do not see the point in learning what my teachers give me. There are no classes on how to overcome an immense discontent, or how to accept that murder is a common event. What is even more baffling is that people view these theoretical classes as preposterous when they think that learning trigonometry is going to help us become productive girls and boys, when we will never use it again. If only Algebra could solve ones social incapability.




March 1, 2003- 11 o'clock

People are afraid of what they don't understand. I am afraid of life, for I am oblivious to the purposes of my existence.




March 2, 2003

It seems that I've added another preoccupation to my list of priorites. Among the tasks of obtaining individuality, attempting socialization, enhancing my vocabulary(I laugh haughtily), and an abundance of other pitiful chores, tomorrow I begin to delve into losing weight. Or...uh...TRYING...to lose...weight. Yes, that's it. It's funny how I go about detecting if I've begun to eat right. Because I have no scale every time I piss I look to see if it's clear. Yellow is a sign of chemical regularity, and anything other than that generally means your body's fucked up. Once I was very sick and my pee was blue. BLUE.




March 3, 2003

I got rained on today. Horrendously. As for the diet,*sigh*, I have not had to fend off my gigantic appetite thus far, but it is inevitable.




March 5, 2003

Course selection time. Woot, woot.




March 9, 2003- 1 a.m.

My life in general is pretty dull, and when even the slightest thing happens it affects me in some way, good or bad. Watching some mediocre movie can completely change my perspective on things, or reading some universally known novel that I “curl up” with on rainy days can transform my views on this intangible thing called reality forever. But it is the tangible things that affect me the most. A death. An attempted suicide. Seeing someone you thought was so strong and mentally sinewy break down and weep uncontrollably. In the reality that I alone possess… Unfortunately, good things happen on occasion, and when they do they are so bantam, they’re presence diminishes at quite a rapid speed. When someone I know says that I am his/her best friend, that affects me monumentally. A journal is made to help one control unrestrained excess and I believe that passing the help of curbing such excess is on my part…Dandy. Supposedly, letting someone read this journal of mine and participating in one of their own enables me to strengthen my dismissal of this “mental surplus”. To who is reading this, you know who you are. In exchange for "making my day" the least i can do is tell you this, and I want you to know I truely mean this.
You are probably one of the greatest people I’ve ever met.
You're beautiful.
Oh.
Try and have fun. For all you know you could be dead tomorrow.

“Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel”
Click Me




March 10, 2003- 2 a.m.

I sat in front of the television for 4 hours today. In retrospect, I have absolutely no knowledge of what kept my eyes glued to such a "box of folly." Most likely some fake titted droid shreiking about "Listenin' tah dis tune mah DAWG!" or "Wee! Making myself look slutty for mah man because I have no self-respect is so awesome! And doing it on national television is even more neato!"... So, because it's spring break and I want to be a tad bit more productive than sitting on my ass viewing such a grotesque display of complete cranal denseness for an entire week, I'm going to walk to the library tomorrow(or rather today) and pick up a few books. What literary pieces will I subject myself to? I do not know. All I am aware of is that I want to read something by Nietzsche. His theories on the Antichrist have always interested me. You know you're a dork when the mere thought of reading a book excites you. Therefore...I am an ASTRONOMICALLY MONSTROUS dork. Now what fucking bodily orifice did I stash my library card in? In Texas if your vocabulary consists of more words than "howdy" and "heehaw" the majority of your social surroundings automatically dub you a "fag." Maybe it's in my asshole. :)




March 11, 2003- 7 p.m.

I just got back from the library. I got 2 books on western philosophy. Presumably, there's something about Nietzsche in one of them. I also got a book called "The Marquis de Sade," which includes his philosophies on homosexuality(IM NOT GAY) and other morbid, patholical, diseased sexual topics. Lastly, "Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America- A Memoir." And I still haven't finsihed Hubert Selby's "Requiem for a Dream." I am also currently downloading Tim Skold's solo project, Jack off Jill's "Clear Hearts Grey Flowers" album and Downloads "Effector." I've gotten all this wholesome entertainment for the price of zero dollars! Who the hell says nothing's free?! ... My shirt smells like maple syrup.




March 13, 2003- 8 a.m.

I’m surprised I’m up this early. I’m never up this early. IM A FUCKING EARLY BIRD! WHERE’S MY WORM BITCH?! Feel free to dismiss me receding into my catatonic state. I woke up on the gable outside my living room window. I go out there to read. My room is filled my twin’s childish babble as he tries to defeat the numerous bosses in the only thing he lives for…Video games. As for the living room, this is where my insomniac-ridden mother dwells, who is in a constant mindset of a waking state,(she never sleeps… yet she’s never awake) causing her to have sudden, unexpected emotional outbursts caused by the spontaneous combustion of her chemical dependency. My dad is asleep in the “mommy/daddy” room, and my little brother is so territorial of his valuables I wouldn’t be surprised if he pissed all over what was his and pounced on whoever invaded such, private, untouchable things. And the bathroom is too… tranquil I suppose. Nature has some type of quality that one can stand merely because it isn’t so quiet it drives one mad. It’s the little things… Either crickets chirping or… the cute little mouse being suffocated, causing it to scream bloody murder in the distance that has just enough pitch to break the silence perfectly. Either way, it’s seems that even something as unidentifiable as “Mother Nature” has an even warmer embrace than my own mom. Now, comes a sudden change of subject from my extremely dysfunctional family to a little treasure I found. As I read Elizabeth Wurtzel’s “Prozac Nation,” a Kodak picture fell out of two girls, smiling brightly. I noted that it fell out of page 61, and it was either by great coincidence that this picture was placed here or some sad undefined meaning that the page read these words, originally written by Wurtzel:

“I’m the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like Cheshire cat, someday I will leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who looks so very vibrant and shimmery, but who is in fact soon going to be gone. When you look at that picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible, getting covered over more thickly with darkness, coats and coats of darkness that are going to suffocate me in the sweltering heat of the summer sun that I can’t even see anymore, even though I can feel it burn.”

The sad thing is I wasn’t affected a bit by my encounter upon such a morbid thing. I was entertained by it. After all, the majority of humans find solace in nosing around other people’s lives because theirs is too boring to bear.




March 20, 2003- An apocalypse right now would be so convenient for me

The past week has sucked. (In lack for a better word) The usual occurred… with the TINY exception of one atomic occurrence… We are officially at war with Iraq. Although I do possess this journal and there is an abundance of national quarrel amiss I’m not going to wangle my experiences and turn it into something as mundanely and pathologically pungent as the fear of say… Anne Frank. After all, I am a mere fat, rich, dirty, cloddish, argumentative American who is surrounded by such luxuries as elementary as the telephone and ice to put in my drink. I feel as if I have no need to complain about such things as the utter STUPIDITY of George Bush and his tendencies to say, “There is a possibility of nuculer war.” I have no sibling in the army. I have no reason to live. I am a plain and simple, inexperienced, blockheaded, feeble, mere child. Furthermore, I have one comment on all of this: FUCK EVERYONE.




March 26, 2003

Yesterday a 3 foot young’un approached me with an utter disregard of elegance, and bluntly stated “YOU WORSHIP THE DEVIL!… DEVIL WORSHIPPER!” I would just like to say that this very interrogative girl was full of poppycock!… *Cheesy and contrived music that is painfully happy initiates* Satan loves me this I know, for the Necronomicon tells me so!…………………. BAH!