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This isn't my real job. This isn't my career. My career is waiting for me to get off my fat ass, stop being a pussy, and grab it.

Just because I'm young doesn't mean I have a right to pout all the time about not having enough fun and wondering why I'm not rich yet. Or even 'comfortable.' I never expected to have the kind of life that's typical, I just expected to have more control over it. I guess I do, I'm just not exerting it.

I can smell my career, and it smells like chocolate chip cookies. Now I just have to find it.

this one goes out to the jables.

Ugh my head hurts. I don't have much to say at the moment. just that i try to shut myself down a bit with the dissatisfaction. Its funny, if i work harder towards something else it'll get better, but i kind of shut down anyway. to let the days go by a little easier. i need to focus but its really so hard. its easier to kind of shut down inside and continue to watch ANTM. Its nice to escape.

On health terms, i'm 140 i'd like to be 130. I was 135 for awhile but kinda fell off the wagon a bit. i'll work on it again. I'm trying to take responsibility and not eat the stuff I know will mess with my sensitive tummy. It's hard though cause a big thing about me is that the freedom of choice is super important. I hate having restrictions. I want to rail against them, even at the cost of my stomach comfort.

On the stomach note and work note, it's beginning to drive me nuts. I have nothing to do, I sell nothing, and I get penalized for having to go to the bathroom. Hello, UTI. I like having stuff to do at a job, to feel like i'm being paid for something. I could draw but i don't have references. i read, and say the same thign to each person. I'm a well paid shop monkey. I want something else, and I want more money :T and 40 hr/week.

I've been making life wants list at work. "Satisfying job, more money, and to travel"

I'm getting bored with this lol done and done for the entry today.<input ... ></input><input ... >

Mar. 13th, 2009

OMFG i went and i got my ears pierced again.


2 on each side now.

shh. this is actually symbolic and important for me. Let me have this moment :O 

Jan. 4th, 2009

Well, death of the uncle was a shock. Took a bit off of work because I felt it was the right thing to do....I only met him twice in my life so it's not like I'll miss him. It's just that he was a big part for some close people to me in the family so it sucked to see them upset. Plus i saw his wife and his kids grieve and that always sucks to watch :T They still don't know what killed him, probably a heart attack but i'm suprised they didn't do an autopsy.
let's see...

my mom: pretty upset. not because she cared about the uncle but becuase she watches his wife and she is scared to find herself in that position eventually. she doesn't want to lose dad.

my dad: trying to be strong for his sister and other people too, i think. (even though his back is still hurting, he went to the ER on Christmas day for it. they did an MRI and found tears in his lumbar or something) but i could tell that he needed some comforting too because he usually doesn't reach for my mom's hand like he did during the service. he even called after i got home to make sure i got home, and to say that before uncle ziggy died, when my dad got back in touch with him again after a good bit of years, he had more of a feminine side and hugged my dad before he left the room each time to tell my dad he loved him. And, my dad said he reailzed that he didn't think he said that to me before i left with my brother from the funeral home. I said "Course , I think you did, but I always know it. I have never doubted your caring for us, that you loved us." he responded with "That's good..cause just in case anything happened to me, or even you for that matter, you never know...I wanted you to know. "

my dad's sister: She was upset, cause she had a huge feud with this brother. they were around the same age (dad's 8 years or so younger than both of them) and hung out alot when they were younger, and some words were said that the other couldn't get across. The finality of it hit her i'm sure. but the thing that was really sad/sweet was when one of the members that knew them when they were little, i tihnk, came over in the middle of the church service, to just her, and hugged her, saying various things but also saying "He still loved you.Very much." and my aunt started really crying, saying 'Thank you"

so yea, just seeing them and even the other people i only met recently be so upset got me a bit sad, and pretty exhausted from it I guess. I'm petrified of anybody I know close dying because I really am not sure how I'd react. I doubt my stablity in that sense. 

It's always awkward when somebody dies too, you never know what to say, especially if you don't know them. But also, he's a marker which means the people closer in the family to me are next, if age has anything to do with it.

That, lack of sleep, and too much coffee were what probably gave me the migraine yesterday. I had some left over pain pills from getting my wisdom teeth out so I took one and went to sleep.

theme song of the day

Don't think we're not serious
When's it ever not
The love we make is give and it's take
I'm game to play along

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time

The things we think might be the same
But I won't fight for more
Its just not me to wear it on my sleeve
Count on that for sure

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
You want to take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
Yeah - We still have time

Can't say I was never wrong
But some blame rests on you
Work and play they're never okay
To mix the way we do

Scared, are you (lyrics)

Strong hands
Big plans
All reduced to this.
Hard won Freedom
How could you have missed?

Scared, are you?
You do it on your own
You do it all alone.
We all did.
Scared, are you?
Half the lines we make up dear
The best that you can do

Everything you would be
Passed you like a ghost.
And kind words are scarce at best
When you need them most.

Hope brings you luck
Doors open up.
And if you should fall,
I'll catch you dear.

Scared, are you?
Finally on' your own
You do it all alone
We all did
Scared, are you?
Half the lines you make up dear.
The best that we can do
And we do


“In a perfect, perfect world you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. But every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you'll never see again."

"All we have to believe with is our senses, the tools we use to perceive the world: our sight, our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. And even if we do not believe, then still we cannot travel in any other way than the road our senses show us; and we must walk that road to the end."

No man, proclaimed Donne, is an Island, and he was wrong. If we were not islands, we would be lost, drowned in each other’s tragedies. We are insulated (a word that means, literally, remember, made into an island) from the tragedy of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories. The shape does not change: there was a human being who was born, lived, and then, by some means or another, died. There. You may fill in the details from your own experience. As unoriginal as any other tale, as unique as any other life. Lives are snowflakes—forming patterns we have seen before, as like one another as peas in a pod (and have you ever looked at peas in a pod? I mean, really looked at them? There’s not a chance you’d mistake one for another, after a minute’s close inspection), but still unique.

"Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, "casualties may rise to a million." With individual stories, the statistics become people — but even that is a lie, for the people continue to suffer in numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless. Look, see the child’s swollen, swollen belly, and the flies that crawl at the corners of his eyes, his skeletal limbs: will it make it easier for you to know his name, his age, his dreams, his fears? To see him from the inside? And if it does, are we not doing a disservice to his sister, who lies in the searing dust beside him, a distorted, distended caricature of a human child? And there, if we feel for them, are they now more important to us than a thousand other children touched by the same famine, a thousand other young lives who will soon be food for the flies’ own myriad squirming children?
We draw our lines around these moments of pain, and remain upon our islands, and they cannot hurt us. They are covered with a smooth, safe, nacreous layer to let them slip, pearllike, from our souls without real pain.
Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
A life that is, like any other, unlike any other."

Sep. 29th, 2008

Letter from Environmental Physiology prof:

"Because of the poor performance of the class on the downregulation case study
I will extend the due date of the Temperature case study until Tuesday October
7, 2008.

case study number 2 was due thursday, but apparently number one sucked so bad as a whole he had to postpone.

o snap. lolz.

(hopefully mine didn't suck THAT bad...)

It's awesome and you know it.



Things I want to get done in the summer....

1.) met already, investigate sites given for career
3.) meet with art counselors to discuss Art minor
4.) do swamp painting
5.) do own art, for fun
9.) hang up pictures
11.) make a list of bento ingredients. :O