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Tuesday, Feb. 12, 2002 / 6:25 p.m. ~Onward, it's TUESDAY!!!!~ Earlier in the day, I was tempted to feel self conscious here. I thought I couldn't do this anymore, I thought how naive I am! How silly, how trusting, how childlike, how ultimately emotionally immature. More grappling with the business of online diary keeping ensued. And the irony slapping me in the face: I just renewed my Gold Membership, primarily for image hosting, for an ENTIRE YEAR. Grapple, grapple, grapple. What an odd word. I feel so close to tears lately. No, it's not my period. My period ended, or so I thought, a few days ago. Over, finito, the end. Now I'm bleeding. And I think it's either cancer, uterine, most likely, well, no, my history would indicate cervical, that's right....or it's stress. It's being consumed by hatred every single day. Hatred and anger. Whew! It's hard to be angry every day! Me, the Aries/Mars warrior. Fuck me. That was the first thing I said this morning after I turned off the alarm..."FUCK ME!". Translation, "No, please, no, whoever is in charge of this mess that we call 'life', please, make my job go away, don't make me go back, please, I'll do anything." Yes, this morning I would've traded my soul....okay, I won't be trading my soul, that's weird, no, but I would, oh, I don't know. I just want another job. Well, really, I don't want to work at all. I want to be a Princess. I want to have a maidservant cater to my every whim, and I'll treat her really well, oh why not a MANservant? Yeah! A shirtless manservant. Okay......no, wait, I'm veering. Goddammit, people, this is all true! Everything but the names! Don't you know that? If you're going to write fiction, can't you put up a disclaimer or something? Do you really think I'd make up all this crap? Ahhh, I see, you know that MY diary is real, but it's you who are lying. All of you. I don't believe a single one. And I won't be self conscious. I don't know any of you (god, I hope I don't!), and I never will, so what the hell do I care? See, I care. That's my problem. You think I don't. You see the outer shell as something it's not. Are outer shells that transparent? Mine is so easy to see, who could miss it? Can't you look through and see the intense and quavering vulnerability beneath it? Ack. I have "water on the knee" again. It's a buildup of fluid around my kneecap. Why? Hellifino. It's from pounding the floor at work with horrible shoes on, I'd guess. Or maybe not. Means I can't bend it too far. Hard to scoop from the litter box, hard to bend to do it. I'm going to cook Hot Italian Turkey Sausage with Classico Ripe Olives and Mushrooms Pasta Sauce and Garlic Parlsey Angel Hair. I know, angel hair with tomato sauce? Yeah, I like angel hair. And I like going against the grain, I'm a loner, Dottie, a rebel. Work is really hard lately, have I mentioned that? Yeah, this "Joleen" character really hates her job. Good thing I'm not Joleen! Whew! Hey, I bet the person in question would rather I just outed her instead of all this jabbing. But this is my style. When I'm hurt, betrayed, deceived, I do this. I do NOT let go of shit. It's bad, I know, and I am sorry. What was that diary about the guy who killed someone??? Confession? Try typing in Confession.diaryland.com and see what you get. If I'm not mistaken that was it. This guy writes that he killed someone, and he goes on to tell this story of how it happened, and of course now, way after the fact, WAY after the time he wrote it, you can read it all, in serial form, and realize it's a cheap paperback serial. A little novel, in Diaryland. Cheap, sleazy, not too well written, but interesting, especially if you're thinking it's true. Which.....if you didn't have a brain, you might think. I do recommend it, it was a fun read. Something to do if you're looking for something to do, start at the beginning, read to the end. There are some sex scenes thrown in too. There are "diarists" on here, at this site, who've created little faux identities for themselves, but to me, it's all about reality. I've never wanted to write anything else. That's just me though. I'm going to cook now. I should be making my own sauce, I know, but I like Classico, they make a good substitute for homemade, really. And it's fun to doctor it, you know? Ohhhhhh.....and this is Tuesday!!! "Gilmore Girls" (it had better not be a repeat!), "24", "Real World", "A Cook's Tour"!!!!! Suddenly I am so fucking excited. Yes, truthfully, I, not named Joleen, I've never lied about that, I, me, am excited, and I am really going to watch those shows. And I really do live with two cats, it's all real, I wouldn't make this shit up. But, hey, if you want to make up your shit, go ahead, it's your prerogative. No, I'm serious, but if we start writing to each other and stuff, I leave you little messages all concerned about your shit, in your guestbook, email, you know, don't keep up the charade, okay? I'm fragile, can't you see that? Jesus, don't you READ this? I'm a fucking basket case. Cost of the War in Iraq
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