Today was alright. Of course I say that, and then I realize that I know something later tonight is going to happen. Oh well, let me tell you about my day. First hour, Christina invited me to sit with her and Angel and Tiffany. They're all really cool. They're about the closest things to outcasts here. And that's not a bad thing. Conformity and regularity are so boring. I don't wanna wear Tommy or CK, I don't want to shop at the Gap, and I don't wanna listen to r&b or country music. So fuck you, conformity! You can't make me! Na na na na na! ...Anyway. Second hour sucked, as usual. If Tyler Dillehay doesn't stop putting his feet on my ass during class, I am going to beat him to a bloody pulp. His mother won't even be able to recognize him. Third hour, we watched Merlin. That's kick ass. I was stressing about fourth hour all day long. But I didn't have to give my presentation! I was so relieved. I didn't like, wanna screw up in front of Derek Carter. ...Ugh. Where did that just come from? My inner groupie needs laid or something. Anyhoo, fifth hour, I just sat there idly. Being me. Doing nothing. As usual. Sixth hour is always good fun. These two guys who sit across from me, are like the Jay and Silent Bob of English class. Shirl never talks, and Josh is a total character. Snootchie bootchies! Me and Kim beat Joseph up today during English. It was fun. I love to watch Josh and "Silent" Shirl beat the crap out of each other. They make me laugh so hard in English. Alright, now here's where I get serious. Three things to remember about your friends. Never let them read your journal. They feel like they understand you more, then they want to play with your heads. Never let them borrow anything. It's okay if you let them borrow something until the end of the day, but if they keep it for a few days or more, you know you're not getting it back. Most importantly: never let them copy your homework. Oh, and one other thing: never let them read your poetry. I swear. All of my friends hate my poetry. I think sometimes they only read it to get a good laugh. Jesse says that my poetry is scary. It probably should be. My mind is one small file cabinet of scary, bad things. That's just what I always pictured my brain as. A file cabinet. You know what my brain would look like? It's like, a dark red padded room with a pink floor, and one very dim light bulb. There would be a little couch, and a film screen on the wall one of the padded walls. Those are my eyes. Alright. Now. There's a Ramones poster one of the other walls, and there's a little lamp that isn't on half the time (that's my common sense) on a coffee table that has an ash tray on it. Okay, there's a circular shag rug on the floor. Then, there's this little file cabinet off to the corner. It's painted black. That's where all of my memories are stored. Oh, and I have my very own kick ass stereo system. ...Where did all that just come from? I don't know, but it was fun to finally get all that off my chest. Now... I called Angela and made up with her last night. We're cool again. I wonder how things went for her today. I'm really worried about her. She told me last night on the phone how she expected me to understand, and how alone she felt. She even threatned running away. Hell, so have I. I told my mom the other night how much I hate it here, how my whole life is back in Kansas, and I want to run away. It was refreshing to get all of that out. Alright, now here's the part where I talk about Adam. Adam hasn't bought me a birthday present. Adam has been weird lately. We haven't talked a whole lot. I think it's because I'm so moody. I don't mean to be, but that's just how I am. I guess I always thought I would have someone who would stick by me even when I was depressed. Oh well, that's what God invented no-bake peanut butter chocolate cookies for. Seriously, though, I'm starting to get a little weirded out... Adam hasn't said a whole lot lately. And when we do talk, he tells me something like that his balls itch, or that he smells. It's like, "Oh thanks, why do I want to know that?" Guh. Boys. I will never be able to understand them. Yet, I'm friends with all of them. Isn't it sad? I think maybe I do have an understanding of them, but I just haven't realized what it is, if that makes sense. I've been wondering lots lately, about life and things in general. Jesse said to me once, upon me asking the question of what I'm supposed to do with my life, "I am SO not the right person to ask that question. I have less direction in my life than a compass with a magnet on it." I feel the exact same way. Like, what am I supposed to do? What's my purpose here? It's like, I'm supposed to turn 18, move out, move in with someone else, get a job, and then what? I want to do something with my life. I want to make differences... I don't just want to be your typical Southern woman, married to a banker or a lawyer or a doctor or a businessman in general, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen while my husband is off screwing his secretary or his client. Or a whore. Oh, and what is the deal with every guy I know calling every band that has girls in it a pussy rock band? I think they're just jealous to admit that we have more talent, more brains, and better clothing than they'll ever have. Jesus Christ. It's like, they can make fun of Kittie and Drain STH, but God forbid we should say anything about their Danzig, or Kid Rock. Screw you. Get a life. I LOVE Drain STH and Kittie. And it's not because I'm a girl. It's because they play music that doesn't remotely sound like they were stoned or in a hurry to make the album, get some booze, and go screw groupies. Boys make me sick. Boys should be executed at birth. Well, Pinky, I have to go think of a brilliant new plan to take over the world.
"I don't know why, but it's the best way to die. You are the trigger and my deepest desires. I'm losing you, but you will always be mine. Promise me now that you will enter my mind. Enter my mind..." -Drain STH.
"As my blood has turned to dust, and all has died that I have trusted, I no longer want to be here. I can't deny, I've tried to die. But I'm alive!" -Drain STH.
"Maybe it's me, but this line isn't going anywhere. Maybe if we look hard enough, we could find a backdoor. Find yourself a backdoor. I see you in line, dragging your feet. You have my sympathy. The day you were born, you were born free. That is your priviledge." -Incubus.
"Will I ever get to where I'm going? Will I ever follow through with what I had planned? I guess it's possible that I've been a bit distracted and the directions for me are a lot less in demand. Will I ever get to where I'm going? If I do, will I know when I'm there? If the wind blew me in the right direction, yeah, would I even care?" -Incubus.
"If I hadn't made me, I would have been made somehow. If I hadn't assembled myself, I'd have fallen apart by now. If I hadn't made me, I'd be more inclined to bow. Powers that be would've swallowed me up, but that's more than I can allow. If you let them make you, they'll make you paper mache. At a distance you're strong until the wind comes, then you crumble and blow away. If you let them fuck you, there will be no foreplay. Rest assured, they'll screw you completely til your ass is blue and gray. You should make amends with you, if only for better health, better health. But if you really want to live, why not try and make yourself? Make yourself." -Incubus.