This week has been kind of crazy. I have wanted to move out so badly that I can taste it. I want to live in Clifton. I was talking to my sister today, and we figured that I'd have to make around $500 a week in order to move out...and I think that might be generous, though I am no expert on the expenses of living on my own. I'm going to move out after I graduate from UC. So, basically, the summer of 2003. I think I'll take a year off to just work a lot and make a lot of money. And then I'll go to grad school somewhere around here. I wanted to go far away...but I don't anymore. I want to stay right where I'm at. Ideally, I'd live alone. But if money situations get too rough, I'm sure I'd find someone to live with. Jessica and I might be okay living with each other. I don't know, though. I think I'd get along really well with Liz because we're so much alike, but she'll almost definitely still be with Jen. I'd get along pretty well with Angelina, too, but she'll probably be living elsewhere in a year and a half. I don't need a nice apartment...I don't even need furniture at first. I just want somewhere other than this house I'm in right now...some place that's my own, where I can come and go as I please...a roof over my head at the very least. I fear what will happen to my mother after I leave. I was talking to my sister-in-law, Di, the other day. I've thought all this time that she was 100% okay with mom...but she opened up to me about ways mom has treated her. And we also talked about mom's memory loss, which is beginning to adversely affect her life. She'll take money out of the bank and forget why she took it out...stuff like that. And Di said mom asked someone the other day when Michael was going to be Baptized. He was Baptized months ago. I was asking her the other day when Michael's birthday is. I know it's around July 5, but I'm not totally sure. She said, "Isn't he like three months old?" Sigh. Today she and I had a decent-sized fight. We were at Rose's. They began talking about what it was like when Rose was growing up. Rose was pretty much telling mom how she felt growing up, not being careful to save mom's feelings. Then when mom and I got in the car to go home, mom started talking about how Rose hurt her today by saying that stuff. And I said, "Mom, I'm exactly like Rose. The only difference is that I try to save your feelings, and she doesn't." And, oh boy, it was all downhill from there. I just don't want to hear bad things about my sister anymore. Having to constantly be mom's confidant was what made me dislike Rose in the first place. You should never dislike someone before hearing his or her side of the story. And it wasn't my place to have to hear any of that. I was her CHILD, not her spouse...not her friend...not her equal. I've finally come to the point in which I don't get involved. I pretty much don't say anything, and she realizes she doesn't have me to agree with her and tell her she's right, so she shuts up. I just don't know what to do about her. I told her today that she needed to go to the doctor about her memory. She doesn't want to. I also told her that I'm worried about how morbidly depressed she is. But her claim is that sometimes God lets you be unhappy and that suffering is a part of life. And my counterclaim is always...why would she survive cancer is she was meant to sit around moping for the final thirty years of her life? Sigh.

Last night I saw Fat Girl with Liz and Jered. That was quite possibly the oddest, most disturbing movie ever. We managed to still have a lot of fun on our night out, though. We just sit around and talk about farting, and Jered spits pop out from laughing. I wonder what would happen if we acted our age.

This week it has really hit me how much it would suck if I'd ever have to come out of the closet to my family. I've always thought I'd probably never have to worry about doing such a thing because if I ever did have a girlfriend, it would be for a short amount of time, after which I'd find my "Mr. Right," get married, and lead a "normal" life. But I'm starting to wonder if I should tell them, regardless. At the point we're at right now, they don't fully know ME. And that kind of sucks. But thinking of telling them makes me almost throw up, seriously. I fear their love for me would change dramatically, even though love is supposed to be unconditional. Gosh, especially my brother Dan. I don't know if he'd ever speak to me again. And then on some other level I wonder if part of my mission on Earth IS to come out to my family because maybe in doing so, they'd get a different idea of the gay community. Right now the issue of homosexuality isn't personally affecting them, so it's easy to pass judgement and say things like, "Well, can't they just be celibate?" or "Maybe God is giving them this struggle to see if they can resist sin," or "It's abnormal," or "They chose to live that lifestyle." Maybe, in knowing that I am a truly good, loving person and then finding out that I'm bisexual as well, they'll realize that gay people aren't sick or sinful. I believe this is wishful thinking, though. I could cry...my biggest fear isn't being raped or robbed or dying. I think I'd rather die than tell them the truth. I guess in the closet I shall stay, unless they happen upon this website. Most of my family members had the address way back when. I just don't think they visit anymore...if I thought they did, I wouldn't write half the stuff I write. Anyway, to save myself being teary-eyed, I will change subjects.

I love my sister Rose. She is strong-willed and beautiful. I want to be more like her. I was talking to her today about the CWG books, and she's interested in reading them. She's pretty damned into Catholicism and rules, so I don't know how she'll take them. But it's worth a try. I don't think the books are for everyone, at least not at the spiritual level people are at. Some people are probably more highly evolved and don't need the message in the books. Other people would be clueless at what's even going on in them. My mother would be the latter...or if she did know what was going on, her mind would be too closed to even ponder the possibility of the truth in them.

My fingernails are freakishly long. They bend often. I don't have the heart to cut them. They're gorgeous. Ever since problems with Andrew, I began biting them again. Six months later, they're back.

I always am inspired to write while driving. I get the most perfect verses in my head, and I can't write them down. And then I forget them. I should buy a little recorder. I got a poem in my head about taking each of the Sacraments of Catholicism and turning them into something dealing with romance and making love...and by the time I could sit down and get the poem to paper, a major blockage had built up, making the poem sound like crap. Maybe with work, it'll be the beautiful poem I'd envisioned to begin with.

Well, I feel as though there was so much more to say, but it's all left me. No, I remember. Last week Derrick (who I've mentioned in past journal entries but spelled his name Derek, probably)...a JCM boy whose mother was the recovering heroin addict and whose stepfather stole Tylenol from us...he came in and asked me if I'd want to take him to the movies sometime. Though the question totally caught me off-guard, I couldn't say no. I don't think he's ever really had a positive role model adult person in his life. So I gave him my phone number. He said he'd probably lose it, so I told him to call the store if he needed me. Well he called today and asked me if I'd take him to the movies tonight. I've had my mind set for a day now that I was going to stay home tonight, so I told him no. But I said we could do it Friday. He said, disappointedly, that that would be fine. And then he asked me if he could spend the night with me after the movies, and we could hang out the next day. I feel like crying...what kind of a life has this child had? He's so lonely and needy of attention and affection that he's asking a near stranger to spend time with him in this way. I'm not overly keen on the spending the night thing, and I doubt mom would be a fan either. But I definitely want to be a part of this child's life. I love him so much. Now his little brother...he can stay home! I might get one of my friends to come with on Friday so it's less awkward.

Ew, one more thing. Henry is beginning to make me uncomfortable. He's been giving me these long, lingering, pressing-his-pelvis-against-me hugs. Today while the pelvis-pressing was occurring, he said in a kind of groaning way "Mmmmm, you smell goooood." If he keeps this up, I'm going to have to say something to him. I know he's starved for affection, but that doesn't mean I need to service him.

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