mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- still cries at a good film Where's my weekend? I need one, bad. After two weeks or so of erratic scheduling, double-backs, and encounters with some of the most infuriating people I've ever come across in my short life, I'm feeling spread a bit thin. Add to that the current unrest in the other areas of my life-- i.e. friendships, family life, and, of course, PMS-- and you've got a raving, irritable basketcase on your hands. I actually started crying last night because Jeromy told me that I was cooking the eggs on too low a setting. Waterworks, snuffling, red-face, snot-dribbles and all. Yes, I do indeed need a weekend. Or a presription. So Crystal and I have one week to find ourselves a place to live. ONE WEEK. That is seven days, friend, 168 hours. And the really, really shitty part is that its too late to back out now. I have no money, no transportation, and a fairly unstable job-- but I CAN'T let her down. I just can't. Crystal is doing this incredibly noble thing, taking custody of a kid at the age of 20, and she's going to need help. From me, goddamnit. It's such a mess, this whole big stupid thing. I love Crystal, I do, and I like her sister, too, but I don't know how on earth we'll be able to coexist peacefully in a tiny apartment. My dog shits on the floor. Crystal's sister is going through that oh-so-fun rebellious stage. I keep strange hours. Crystal is in the middle of a particularly complainy period of her life. I have loud, obnoxious sex. Crystal is friends with a handful of remarkably irritating women who will undoubtly leave me feeling, um, remarkably irritated. I leave my dirty clothes everywhere. Yeah. Reasons We Shouldn't Do This. I'm just surprised that the thought hasn't occurred to Crystal that our friendship might be better off if we continue to live on opposite sides of the city. Christ, I feel a crying jag coming on. I'm so disappointed in myself lately. I haven't checked my grades yet, but I'm sure that I got at least one B, or even a C. I STILL don't know how to drive. Blah, blah, blah... I could go on forever. I'll spare you the details, but my sense of self-worth has plummeted over the past few months. Useless Sad Sack, that's me! I'ma get over it soon. I'm trying. I've been attempting to get into better shape, save a bit of money, make myself into a contributing member of this big ugly society. It's hard. You guys know this. In the Good News Department: I have a $50 gift card to use at Barnes and Noble, from my dear old Dad. The kitten, Zelda, is doing great. She thinks she's a dog, though, which could end up being a bad thing. Although there has been no lack of bitching about my crazy work hours, at least I'm working. A lot. My paycheck should be nice. I've got this hot boyfriend named Jeromy, and he rocks, and he loves me even when I'm throwing tantrums over breakfast foods. I've lost a couple of pounds already, just from my weakling work-out attempts with Steve. I located my favorite, long-lost black tee shirt. Frances, Frances. David, David. You guys locked me out! And I miss you! And I miss reading about your days! And I hope you're happy and having fun where you are! 3:38 a.m. - 2004-06-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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