The back of bare hands reach toward the open cold, a cigarette between long fingers. I shiver, but only on the edges of my skin. It takes seven seconds for nicotine to reach the brain. I count the seconds with each drag. My blood becomes viscous, burdened with the heavy load. I look up, and lock eyes with another woman, older, sitting in her car. A symbiotic stranger. We wait together. Other people get in and out of their cars, open the book slots and return their books. I love the intrinsically American businessmen and women, with their self-important cups of coffee and black briefcases. I want them to fold me between their faxes and files, I want to mold myself to the shape of their long conference tables, and be intoxicated by the smell of erasable markers that rest easily between the metal crescents at the edges of open white boards, like a baby dreaming in a bassinet. I want place and purpose in their lives, lives which they have created for themselves with their own needs and desires, then actions hardened in history. They're all productive and responsible, but my favorites are the bitter ones. They live parallel to me. I am bitter for not having enough to live for. They are bitter for having too much to live for. More men rush through the cold to the doors, which still remain closed. God and I silently watch them. They think not of us, but we think of them. I learned a long time ago never to ask God for things. He is no more useful to me than I am to these aspiring workers. There is nothing to do but watch.

Some linger in the cold, waiting for the doors to open, others look over papers in the driver's seat of their subarus and camrys, but I stay sheltered until they file into the library. I relax my fingers and the rolled tobacco falls like a rag doll, hitting the side of my car before it falls from my sight. I roll up my window.

A businessman rushes past me into the library and up the steps. I try to remember a time when my legs were full of such ambulatory ambition. I ran a 5K last year in 27 minutes. But my endurance burns slowly, and is devoid of urgency.

I feel  myself getting closer to the edge. Making things worse, ignoring, hiding, running. These acts make jumping more of a possibility. I don’t even feel crazy anymore. I used to think I was utterly psychotic, unable to separate dreams from reality. Now I feel I can’t take my eyes off the hard, stationary colors around me. The sky is undoubtedly blue, the grass a striking green. I know these things better than I know my own name. They are of the same world I occupy. My eyes do not glaze over, making the world unfocused the way it used to, trying to convince myself that I am crazy, blaming it for my inability to function normally. But I can’t do that anymore. My daydreams are repetitive, constantly rewritten behind my eyes. I have ignored reality in favor of them, my own creation. I have become a monster. I destroy possibility by my own inaction. My only relief is that I did act once. It failed, but at least I can’t regret it. I miss her, the goddess. The girl I only visit in my dreams, because I can’t experience her in my reality.

Why must I torture myself so? I bring it on myself, and yet it is entirely uncontrollable. This pain, my own eyes reflected in hers. That’s all I see, even with my eyes open. I am blind without her. I fall into craziness, and then come back again. She is a fishhook in my belly, spilling my intestines, red blood pooling around me and I lie here immovable, unable to save myself, unwilling to save myself. I’ve convinced myself only she can save me.

Society’s work all seems a game to me. It’s all a riddle, or a race.That is the only meaning of life—the search for the meaning of it. And so we dissect animals, and peer into microscopes, and read and read and read and come up with these elaborate ideas and explanations. It is not that I feel I am above it all. And there are some parts of it I would like to participate in, but to play the game, you cannot pick and choose what you want. You must play by the rules, their rules, the rules that are necessary and I do not like many of these rules.

There are high suicide rates among gay people, but it is higher among those sexually confused.

Today is my first psychologist appointment. I'm pretty excited. It's all I can think about so I need to write about something else. That's why I camer on here, to distract myself. So what do I do? Title it "First psychologist appt. Well there are some things I want to ask her. They are:

Can I call you Kathryn? Did you ever write a book, Kathryn? Do you think someone can be cured of depression? Where do you draw the line between having problems, and being crazy?

OK that's it. I'm not talking about it anymore.

Well, I've called Lauren 6 times a day for like, a week and a half. Which I know is only making it worse, because when somebody calls mne that much it makes me hate them. But I can't help it. I miss her. And I don't have that many people to hang out with. I'm listening to Waiting for my Ruca, lmao. I love this song.

"It's very odd to think of the places my music can go once it leaves my hands." -Natalie Merchant

I like that quote.

http://www.outstraight.net/forums/index.php?topic=26.0

Seriously, this girl has some major issues.

Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Here I sit at my station, at a computer in the school library. For some reason I can concentrate here. Not on my homework, though. That I can never concentrate on. Too dull. Too dull to even talk about how dull it is. I’m excited for Thanksgiving though. It’s going to be a good one, cause we’re having it at our house.

Listening to Hilary McRae’s “Consider Me Gone” Haha I was looking at “Dorian” Nappo’s profile and she’s now FTM, considers herself “gay” and is interested in men and women. Of course I knew she was FTM, but I didn’t know she’d go back to men. You know, I really have had it with the whole gay community. Not nearly as much as I’ve had it with the straight community though. It’s just so weird. The gay community is supposed to be all accepting, and they’re even more prejudiced than the straight community these days. If lesbians are pissed off at the existence of bisexuals and hasbians, it’s their own damn fault because they’re always excluding everyone who isn’t lesbian! So the bisexuals identify as gay, and then inevitably go back to men, and then lesbians get all pissed off that they were identifying as something they weren’t. If they were just accepting of bisexuals in the first place, then bisexuals wouldn’t be trying to change in order to fit in! So there!

Well, back to Dorian. I think she needs to relax on the labels. These labels carry expectations and assumptions, that is, judgement. Nowhere in the world do people take labels as seriously as they do in the gay community. The queers cling to their labels like life rafts in open sea. They figure it is all they have. So is the case when society’s rigidity doesn’t allow for variation. So they create the same problem as the straight community created—closeted straight people. Oh the irony is immense.

            Well, Dorian. She is one fucked up girl. I know this girl, and she clung to the lesbian identity, and now look, she’s back to men like flies to a flashlight. Except now she’s a boy, or a boi, or whatever new label she has. Point is: labels suck.

            Sometimes I think I’m like a gay boy in a girl’s body. I also have a lot of hatred to the suppression of women. It is so rampant, and yet people pretend like it doesn’t exist. I’d say I have more experiences of being subjugated by men because I’m a girl than I have by straight people for identifying as gay. Men are absolute assholes, there is no question. They treat women like the only reason women exist is to serve men, and so it is impossible to ever feel anything for them. Because you know that, in their eyes, you are nothing to them except someone to suck their dick. That’s why I’d rather be a gay boy. Because there isn’t any sexism. Gay boys don’t demeen eachother, or have these expected sexist roles.

            Well, I don’t think I’m identifying as anything anymore. None of the labels fit anyway, which is ironic, because there are so many of them. I'm sorry this reads like a pamphlet on sexual confusion. Remember, no labels, no judgement!

   Oh, I need to housesit for these next two days. Walk these dogs who hate me, btw. And like, sleep in the house. Which is kinda scary, and kinda fun. Ive housat for this woman before, that's how I know. Maybe I'll invite Vanessa over and we can do the dirty, lmao. I think it's so weird when people say that. "Do the dirty" haha. yeah.. I should.

   It's old news in my mind by now, but I got molested in a library yesterday. Stop laughing, it's not funny. This guy was like stroking himself and then he whipped his dick out at me! In like, a fucking library! what a pervert!!

   I'm supposed to be doing homework right now, but I really don't want to. Wow my back is in incredible pain right now. Just to let you know. Oh, now Melissa Etheridge is singing. Didnt her partner of 12 years leave her for a guy and said she wasn't a lesbain, and she never was? Can you imagine, after 12 years? See, this is what those labels do to you. They cut off your oxygen supply; they restrict you.

Hola

It's snowing! And it's only October and it's really coming down! They said on the news that it hasn't snowed here since 1972 or 73 isn't that crazy?! It really makes me want to go skiing or snowboarding REALLY BAD!

OK so I'm in the library with Ally from my English class. She doesn't want to go to her Bio class and I just realized I must have left my Philosophy book at home so I can't study for that right now. I think she's trying to read what I'm typing lmao. She says I type really fast but I don't think so. You know, everybody says that! But I text really slow so I guess it all evens out.

I just took a Latin American History quiz that I didn't even know about. I got like one question right so I guess I better go study for that. At least I have the book.

Oh on Friday night I had a date with thtis chick from school. I didn't like her, but she thinks I did cuz I was just in a really good mood that night for some reason. I was just really friendly and talkative, like I get sometimes. She called me like upwards of 10 times and she's mad at me. That I know. We were supposed to hang out on Saturday too but I wasn't really in the mood. OK Ally  is leaving to go study. You know, I really like her in that way I only get with straight girls. It's a problem.

Anyway, I've really been in the mood to act recently. I'm gonna offer to run lines with her. Yeah this is a problem. LMAO I got that from Johnny Mac. I really wish we could all hang out again. We all used to have such a great time of it.

I feel like I have nothing to say but I have to write right now. Like, I'm just in the mood so I guess I'd better address something profound. OMG so I googled "profound questions" and you know all those dumbass questions came up like, "Do Lipton employees take coffee breaks?" So stupid. I'm still looking. OK it's all bullshit. I guess I'm gonna have to come up with my own question. You know, my English teacher always came up with really good journal questions. OMG this comp is really fucking slow, it's not even funny. I guess I'm gonna have to come up with one on my own. Oh! I have a good idea. You know those advice columns? Try to answer one of those. Those are usually about realtionships, and when they are about realtionships, they're usually about honesty. Those ones are always interesting.

I found one that relates to me: I got it from girlshrink.com

GirlShrink,
I am 19 years old and I realize I'm still young but ever since I was like 15 years old all my friends have been getting into all these serious relationships, whereas I'm getting into these flings that last 10 days. I don't think I'm ugly or fat yet I'm not the prettiest girl in the world nor am I the skinniest. I just wonder if I'm doing something wrong or do I just need to sit and wait for mr right. I can't help but think no guy will ever want me.

Actually this is scarily similar to my situation, lmao. OK since I'm tjhe one in the foxhole, don't take my advice, but this is the advice I offer in response to the question posed:

-don't settle for a friends-with-benefits realtionship. Make it a rule to only sleep with ppl you're in a relationship with, and anybody who doesn't want a relationship will just have to take a hike.

OK that's all I got. The answer the "girl shrink" offered was pretty similar. See ya later!

OK it's been forever, I know. I just wanted to come on here to write about a few short stories I read over the weekend. I think short stories are a bit underrated. I mean, nobody talks about short stories. They talk about books and music and TV. But maybe it's time for a revolution! I'm laughing because this morning in Latin American History we came up with the theory that Simon Bolivar, who Bolivia is named after, conquered northern South America (Peru, Bolivia, around there) to compenate for being short. LMAO. Anyway, one story in particular was called "Orientation" by Daniel Orozco and it is my Favorite short story EVER!! I didn't have a fav short story b4, but I created the category just for this story, becuase it is SO good. It starts off mundane, and then it gets really twisted. It's about loss, mainly. Loss and broken people. I love it.

I also read this excerpt on a woman considering donating her eggs, enticed by the money. Now that's a heavy topic, and I've thought about it a lot, even before I read this. I don't think I'd ever do it. It's your genes, so it is like, your child. And no amount of money would keep me from thinking it wasn't. But then I think that what if I am infertile? I've never had children, so it is possible. Isn't it better to have someone else have your child, then have no child at all? And then I get all worried that maybe I really am infertile. I talk big, oh what do I want a bunch of rugrats for anyhow? But really I want kids, deep down. And I want to be pregnant most of all.

So would you consider donating your eggs or sperm?

In the story, called Grade A: The Market for a Yale Woman's Eggs by Jessica Cohen, she gives the impression that this IS a market. Women get paid for their eggs, and to them, I guess the money is more important to them than the fact that she is, in a way, selling her children. Maybe people won't like me describing it that way, but that's how I see it. My point is that there are websites devoted to matching prospective parents with egg donors, and they all have ads. She describes the ad of one woman, named Kimberly, who advertises that she has donated successfully before, and the family had twin boys. She even has the gall to say " 'The doctor told me I have perky ovaries!' " (Cohen, paragraph 14). It's a genetic competition. Not only do I have to decide, "Would I ever do it?" If I do decide it is something I can handle, and that I think it's wonderful to be able to help this couple conceive, now I have to compete with all the blue-eyed, blonde haired beauties and brainiacs. My genes aren't preferable for egg donation. I have a history of psychological problems, I have a slow metabolism (I'm average, not heavy by any stretch of the imagination, but I work to be the size I am). My family's medical history includes a variety of cancers. Ect. It's a market. A capitilist, social darwinian market. In the end, the girl ends up being rejected for not being attractive enough. The people who placed the ad were extremely particular. They had the money to be able to pay for the very best. Their criteria for an egg donor included: An SAT score of at least 1500, Jewish, athletic, over 5'5", attractive, and a good family health history. So those who can afford it get the best donors. If you can't afford it, you're simply not in the market. Then there is also the issue of whether it is really moral to be able to choose your child's genes. In the best line in the story, Cohen states that if she were to donate her eggs to this couple, "it would have led to the creation of a child encumbered with too many expectations." (paragraph 23).

It's raining like crazy here right now. I absolutely LOVE the rain. It always makes me thoughtful, and philosophical. So I guess I should be doing my philosophy hw, but I already did it (I think I mentioned that last entry..)

Anyway, my gram just got here. I'm not going to be very good company though because I have a lot of hw that I'm not doing..

Went garage saling with mom but a lot of ppl got scared off b/c of the storm and they got canceled. Which I knew was going to happen, but I went anyway, because my mom was going anyway. My brother Andre is pretty much finished with his eagle scout project now. All he has to do is grow grass around the walkway that he built and write up the report of it, and whatnot so he can become an eagle scout. Also, he needs to earn two more badges before he turns eighteen, at the end of october. I am happy for him, for he must be extremely relieved. He's been working on that project non stop it seems, since May, and even before then he was preparing for it. He says it has to be one of the most complicated eagle scout projects that has been done in recent years, and I believe it. He's also taking an architecture class this year and I can tell he's going to be an the star student in that class because he's done this project! If it were me, though, I'd probably strut and gloat and make an ass out of myself, but he's not like that. He just minds his own business, and keeps his nose to the grindstone, that kid. I do respect him for it. He wasnt always like this, btw, since you are probably wondering why I don't resent him for it. Cuz I used to be the star student, and he was the slacker. Now the tables have turned, definitely. I'm trying to level the playing field again, although I don't expect it will be for a long while.

So that's what Andre did all summer. He hardly had any chance to just relax and rest up for school, which he's starting on Wednesday. So we're going to have to start sharing the car. I've already talked to him about it, and it could not work out more beautifully, since Mobeard and CCM are within 20 minutes of eachother. Well, maybe 20 mins sounds like a lot to you, but to us, it's not. We live about 20 mins from Mobeard, and we both went there for middle school, so we're used to it.

I hate when people (namely, my mother) nag me to do stuff. But the thing I hate above all else is when they nag at me to do something when I am productively, and obviously engaged in some other activity. Just before, I was washing some dishes, and my gram tells me to feed the dog, who's whining cuz she's hungry. So I make a mental note to feed the dog after I'm done washing this dish. And she leaves, and comes back, and then tells me again. And I'm like, can't you see I'm scrubbing this thing right now? This will always, no matter how sunny my disposition is, ensure a snappy remark full of all the teenaged attitude I can conjure. Because it's fucking abnoxious to nag at someone to do something, when they're already doing something that you would nag at them to do if they weren't doing it. Read it again, it makes sense.

I'm going to do my hw now. Bye.

OMG I am so tired right now, I'm running on negative energy....

Had 2 classes today, English and Philosophy. My first english class, missed the one on tuesday. Eng teacher is nice. I think there's something wrong with her eyes, though cuz she wears sunglasses the whole class and she thought I was some girl that was there on tuesday. Probably should have let her believe it, lol. Then I'd have perfect attendance. I told her I missed because I registered late though, and then she said later in class, "We have some new students (not just me) in our class because of registering late." It was just the way she said it, like she was already judging me as irresponsible. I was hoping none of my teachers would find that out until at least the 1st paper was due, but now is as good a time as any. I'm kidding, btw. I don't want them to ever find out I'm irresponsible.

I've paid attention in all my classes, and took notes so I'm doing good so far. I have a ton of English hw. I can't even tell you all of it cuz it's so much. But oh well. I have all weekend to do it. And it's supposed to rain all day tomorrow so there's not going to be anything else to do anyway.

Oh, it's supposed to rain b/c of Hannah, the storm. Andre goes, "Who's Hannah?" Haha.

Philosophy today was just as weird as it was last time. We were trying to make up a fake case against a guy named "Jones" to determine how we would discover whether there were drugs in his house or not. It was pretty bizarre. I mean, I got the point the prof was trying to make by the end, but I still thought it wasn't really necessary. He gave us the same hw as last class, read pages 17-34. I already did it for today's class, so I'm set. I guess he doesn't remember he already told us to do that. But before class, all the students were like, "what was the reading on?" and it seemed like nobody really read, so it's just as well he assigned it again. But if they didn't read it the first time, what are the chances they're gonna do it the second? I'm not judging here, I'm speaking from firsthand experience.

Math teacher still hasnt emailed me back. OK I'm really tired so Im going to bed. It's 11.

I'm watching a podcast about Aristotle on Youtube. It's actually pretty interesting. I figured I would brush up a little on some elementary philosophy, just so as to keep from looking like a total dumbass in class.

I feel like I haven't been very productive today. I had math this morning, 8:30-10. That's my only class on Thursday. Imagine, finished with the day's classes by 10! Well it's weird for me. College algebra was good. My teacher's nice. I missed class tuesday, and all they did was take a placement test so that he'd get an idea of what the students know, and what they don't so that he could make up an appropriate lesson plan. Makes sense, I guess. But from what I observed today, it doesn't seem the class did very well. So I'm not looking forward to it, lol. I need to email him btw to ask him about when to take it. We just reveiwed very basic algebra today. Most of it I knew, but I don't remember learning about dividing polynomials.

I need to get the rest of my books! Which means asking for more money, and quick, before my teachers get annoyed about it. My math teacher was already annoyed today because maybe 1/3 of the class had it, if that. It's just that the Algebra book costs $150. That's fucking crazy, IMO. And he assigned hw, so I definitely need to get it, ASAP. And I need to get my English one too. Missed English on Tues, have it tomorrow. I hope they didn't have hw, b/c I don't want to be behind in work already.

So after math class, I tried to read for LA History, but I couldn't keep my concentration, and I really did try. I read like 10 pgs, so my efforts weren't completely fruitless, but I went home. Then I fooled around online, checking facebook and whatnot, and then I took Ginge for a hike. I love being out in the woods all by myself. People are majorly annoying sometimes, especially right in the middle of the day like that, so I was glad to be out there. I took this red trail, that took me all the way to Denville. I had no idea where that trail went, but I couldn't just turn around. I was really curious. So I ended up at the other park entrance in Denville. It was like an hour and a half hike there, another hour and a half back. It was kinda hot, and I didn't pack enough water, but on purpose, because I always think it's gonna hurt my back, or I'm going to end up stranded out there, needing to pee really bad. And I know it's the woods, but you're really not supposed to pee out there. It's not like the jungle, it's a county park. Plus, I didn't see any good places for a pit stop. It was a little too out in the open. But I didn't have to, thank God. Ginger didn't really have this problem, so I really should have brought more, for her, but when I ran out, we were like 30 mins from the car, so I don't think she suffered too much. Plus, I had water in my car. It was kind of warm, but it was like liquid gold at that point. Oh yeah, and I found an abandoned or forgotten geocache. It was a little red box attached to a tree. The cover was broken , and on the inside of the cover it said "geocache" and "please do not remove" That's how I knew it was a geocache. And then it said something Road on it. It was written clearly, I just can't remember what it said. All it had in it was a pencil in a platic baggie. When I got back I spent probably close to an hour on geocaching.com trying to figure out how to report it. I figured it wouldn't be hard to find, but I could not find out where to post it. I typed in the zip code, too, and searched for the title "___ Road" but I couldn't find anything. So I was like, fuck it. I tried. That reminds me, I have to go rebag the stuff in our geocache. I went to check on it a few days ago and the bags were all ripped. After that, I went through my old philosophy notes, and through some old papers. Then I took a shower, and here I am, listening to a podcast. Did you know that Aristotle had a lisp? Honestly, I've accomplished nothing. And I really do want to use my time effectively, and get my grades up this semester. Easier said than done, am I right?

I'm checking my e-mail now, first time in months. I get so much junk mail it's not even funny. It's annoying as hell to go through it all, no wonder I never check it. I have to give my old voice teacher some of her papers back.

This is going to be a very short entry because I have to get to my homework but here goes..

Registered for classes yesterday. By the time I was done registering, I missed two classes I'd been placed into: College Algebra and English Comp 1. I'm in 3 other classes: Sociology, Philosophy, and Latin American History.

It's a pretty good schedule, only problem is one night class, and I'm gonna be bored as hell, waiting from 12:45 when English gets out, until 6:30, when Sociology begins. But oh well, I'll just do homework and study and whatnot.

This is my schedule:

Mon: Latin American History 10a -11:15a

Tuesday: Math 8:30a-9:45a; English 11:30a-12:45p; Sociology 6:30p-9:15p

Wednesday: LA His 10a-11:15a; Philosophy 1-2:15

Thurs: Math 8:30-9:45

Fri: Eng 11:30a-12:45p; Phil 1-2:15p

So I've gone to 3 classes so far: Sociology, History and Philosophy.

All the teachers I met were nice, and strict about attendance. They always are, though. Sociology teacher can't spell, philosophy teacher doesn't sound like he knows what he's talking about, but it's the first day, you know how skewed first impressions are. Hate the philosophy book. It's written for like 2nd graders. I still have my philosophy book from Montclair though, and that thing is like an encyclopedia of philosophy. It's all the philosophy I'll ever need. Maybe I can sell this piece of crap text to an elemntary school when I'm done with it. Looking forward to Latin American History. I was already familiar with everything he was talking about in class, so maybe it won't be so tough.

I'm pretty exhausted now. When I got home at 3:30, the kids tackled me and begged me to take them bike riding. I talked to them about school (Today was their first day), but told them I had to do my hw and I couldn't take them. But instead I came on here, lol. But I had a lot to update you on.

BTW: on this blogdrive, the dates are usually correct, but the times never are. I must have it set to central time or something, because they're never right, and even when I try to fix them, it gets messed up somehow, so just so you know)