whining crybaby entry, so sorry

6/12/99

Thought I’d drive the van through a car wash today, like it’s the least I could do. At least give it back clean, if I can’t give it back intact. Umm, good idea Bets, the door casing’s pulled away so that you can see daylight in the crack, so you drive through a car wash? As I drove away, sopping up the soapy water with some McDonald’s napkins I found in the glove compartment, I bitterly thought that I might as well get a ticket, because NOT ONE MORE bad thing could happen to me and the van at that point.

I did tell my dad today. He reacted the way I thought he would, very quietly and disgustedly. And he told me to fix it. I’m sure he doesn’t really expect me to, but I’ll take it in for an estimate when I go to pick up my own damn car. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

It is so freaking hard to live alone right now. I’m sorry, I haven’t complained about this yet. I figured when I got to this point, I’d, well, I’d be at this point, so here I am, shut the fuck up, if you don’t want to read it, come back tomorrow. I’m lonely. I feel like shit for being such a baby. I really do. For Christ’s sake, I’m only living alone for another three weeks; even if you don’t count the John-visits it’s only been four months total. I’m a big baby and I miss my boyfriend.

Wah wah wah. shoot me.

I watched To Gillian, On Her 37th Birthday tonight. I’d seen it before, but holy cow, there’s a cheery one. Funny to watch it now, though. The sappy love theme at the end was so Titanic. The melody centered around the half step between the tonic and its leading tone—uh, hello, James Horner. Romantic once, silly twice. Now they’re both silly.