mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

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In Which I Freak Out and Then Am Okay

Exam in, what, eleven hours? And I feel ready but you guys know, better than anybody else, that I often feel ready when I am not even a little bit. Let's metaphor that. I think I just did. I started writing a story today, about a girl who can't stop seeing her own bones when she looks at her hands and who can't glance up at the mirror when she is brushing her teeth because there is no skin on her face, no muscle, just gleaming bare skull. I found a white hair on my head this morning. The two are not related, are they? I guess what I mean is I am acutely aware of my aging, which is a ridiculous thing for a twenty-six year old woman to be, but I sometimes sit in my bedroom and I stare at the belongings I have accumulated and it dawns on me that one day I will not live in this house or in any house or at all and maybe this house won't even be here and there won't be any skin on me, I will be empty and gone and and and and... you know? Sudden and unsettling realization that not even *I* am permanent. Whatever. I have too much going on right now to worry about that, which is ALSO silly because when is there not time to worry about being alive and then not being alive? I told Trang about my Dad a few days ago and she laughed it off but I could tell she was shaken. She made a joke: "So THAT'S where you get it from!" And that's enough of that talk.
I downloaded this music sharing program yesterday and I am amazed at how organized people keep their illegally obtained music. And Andrew, relax, I still plan on blowing grocery money at the record store, too. Anyhow, the point is that I think I am okay with the fact that I am a disorganized, juvenile, bad music liking girl. Really. Yeah, I have the Dixie Chicks. So the eff what? HA! I just channelled The Rad. Whom my sexy employee remembered, to my chagrin. Different entry. P.S. Everybody has been asking me about Matt lately. The simplest response is this one: This particular squeeze? Unsquozen. And likely to stay that way. What I mean is, the "let's be friends" experiment failed. Miserably. I am still at the point where I think of him and feel my face curl into a sneer, but I am hoping that someday, I can be a good person and feel it melt into an expression of pity instead, because if anybody deserves it, it is THAT GUY. Poor little guy. See? Halfway there.

12:04 a.m. - 2010-02-02

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