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Friday, December 12th, 2003

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Good god.
Time:6:12 am.
Mood: moody.
For some reason, the Silver and Cold music video is my current obsession. See it, and you will understand. Actually, it's highly possible that you won't understand. It took me three watchings to get it, myself.

Wednesday, December 10th, 2003

(6 Vow They Will Cut Off Their Hands Before They Reach For Me Again!s | Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:All the people on tha floor...Let meh see ya dancin'...
Time:6:21 am.
Mood: chipper.
Yes. Aerin is listening to the Madonna/Britney Spears travesty. It is true. And she is suitably ashamed. Perturbed, even. It's...catchy. She can't help it. She loves noisy club music, and, as insipid as this is, it's club-y and fun. Hey, Britney...You say you wanna lose control...God, I could really live without the phrase 'work your body'. It sounds like something to be said by sadistic aerobic instructors urging you to lift five pound weights, rather than two-pounders. Gee...that was damn near autobiographical.
And I am redeemed. I'm now watching the Days of the Phoenix video. Aerin can tell it's early in the morning, because her fingers are all over the keyboard. She almost wrote the Days of the phonics. Hooked on Phoenix Worked For ME!

Tuesday, December 9th, 2003

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Wrap yourself in black...listen to the Cure...
Time:2:24 pm.
Mood: contemplative.
I've had that song stuck in my mind all afternoon.
Well, I worked like a Communist all afternoon, inventorying Mrs. Gregory's teacher's aide props. It was brutal. I'm wearing a calf-length skirt and big, chunky platform shoes, and I had to kneel on the floor and scurry around for three hours. It was really, very uncomfortable. It would be more comfortable if I was being paid for this, but school is school.

Sunday, December 7th, 2003

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:I hate my username.
Time:5:53 pm.
Mood: bitchy.
I would change it if I could. Once I get my new code, I'm going to seek out all the variations I can on LittleDeadGirl, until I find one that isn't taken. I wanted something Davey related, but it just looks vaguely Christian. Or, like I have some sort of self-esteem issue. I'm hungry. I had garlic and parmisan soybeans for dinner, a tiny little pile of them. And I'm still hungry.

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Wow...I freakin' LOVE Depeche Mode...and I'm not sure why...
Time:11:24 am.
I've got to pee. No, that's a mild understatement. My coffee has got to get out! Sadly, my house has only two bathrooms, and fellow family members are showering. It's eleven thirty, people! You should have showered hours ago! I'm about to creep into the back yard and pee in the pool. My mother is just now announcing that once she changes into her day clothes, we will begin cleaning house. I don't know why we wait until her announcement, or why she is always the bearer of bad tidings. I DID get a little bit of my homework done, for all the good that does me. I'm still going to fail American History and get a very low grade in English. Funny, because those are my best subjects. It's just because they assign so very much homework, and I have a fierce aversion to any work that can't be dashed out in ten minutes.

Saturday, December 6th, 2003

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Me.
Time:6:43 pm.
Mood: sad.
I made a tragic mistake. I looked in the mirror while changing into my nightgown. It's a weekend, so I'm not wearing any make-up. I've never felt uglier. I don't know if it's a combination of tiredness, shirked responsibility, and sadness, or if perhaps I'm just fucked. And what did that mean? I just took some Ny-Quil, so I should be out like a light in ten minutes. I feel ugly. Really ugly. I'm so tired of hearing lovely, size-two, fair complected belles bitch about how ugly they are. I only feel passably good when I have all my make-up on. I was looking in the mirror, and I could suddenly see everything that was wrong. My skin is this bizarre, pinkish tan color that only irish girls seem to get; that flushed-and-freckled look. I want white skin, dammit! I want porcelin doll, bone-china skin! My eyes are so tiny they seem to sink back into my head. It's frightening. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up some morning to find that my eyes have shrunk, and no longer exist. My nose will fill up that void. It's already blobby and fleshy enough to make up for my lack of eyes.
I'm going to bed, now. Maybe I'll dream of Davey and feel better; who knows?

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Ouch.
Time:5:56 pm.
Mood: morose.
My stomach hurts. I've been eating eggplant parmisan all day, because there is no vegetarian food in the house today. So, I've had about six servings of eggplant, and a bottle of water. My parents are going shopping tonight, but they're buying chicken and sausage, so I'm probably going to have more eggplant for dinner, with a side of self-pity.
I wrote my first fanfiction tonight, out of sheer boredom. I suppose it's hardly fanfiction, because the only characters in it are myself and splinters of myself, but it mentions Davey and AFI heavily, so I'll call it an AFI fanfiction. Care to read? http://www.fandomination.net/?mode=fanfic&FanficID=76218. It sucks, because I wrote it in about five minutes. I just wanted to try out that site, so I dashed something out.

Thursday, December 4th, 2003

(2 Vow They Will Cut Off Their Hands Before They Reach For Me Again!s | Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Morning.
Time:7:09 am.
Mood: awake.
I have just indulged in...what did the box call it? 'Nutritious cereal, filled with the wholesome goodness of dried cranberries, sweet rolled oats, and deliciously rich Hawaiian macadamia nuts.' Yes, friends and countrymen, they did say Wholesome Goodness. I'm working my way into veganism, ever so slowly. I know full well I'll be the worlds worst vegan, and I'm sure everyone will be suitably ashamed of me.If I play my cards right, I can be a self-rightious, veggier-than-thou vegan, who secretly keeps a stash of M'n'Ms in her dresser.

Wednesday, December 3rd, 2003

(1 Vow They Will Cut Off Their Hands Before They Reach For Me Again! | Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:Now, then.
Time:5:26 pm.
Mood: drained.
I'm going to try not to do what I've done with my Blurty journal, that is, fill it up with quizzes and suchlike. If you look, the past ten or so entries in the journal are things like 'Which Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Are You?' or, 'Which Lesbian Sex Toy Are You?' (Answers: Johnny, and the Hitachi Wand.) Unfortunately, I don't have enough angst to fill a teaspoon right now. I'll write again when I have a juicy tidbit.

(1 Vow They Will Cut Off Their Hands Before They Reach For Me Again! | Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:There. *Dusts hands*
Time:5:18 pm.
Mood: accomplished.
My journal has been put to right. I wish I could just cut and past my blurty journal into this...it looks so naked...

(Give Me a Word...A Soft Word.>)

Subject:It is my first post!
Time:4:41 pm.
Mood: thirsty.
Hurrah. I sold my soul for a live journal code. It's really quite a shame, as live journal isn't as tasty as I hoped it would be. More at five!

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