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Beauty of Another Kind : 03.07.03 @ 7:52 pm

"... There is no there, there
I guess I'm scared
'cuz I want to have good news to report
every time I come up for air..."

I had another entry � I was forty minutes into it and I accidentally hit the wrong [x] so I'm starting this over in my computer's equivalent to Word, which I should have done to begin with anyway.
They say that when your first draft is lost your second one is often better. What bull shit. It's the same whiney entry. You have my permission to leave at any time (Yea, before this permission, I kept you chained to your chair and you got an electric shock the moment you tried to leave... oh you kinky fuck you, you'd like that wouldn't you?).

Bad days always seem to start with me sleeping in. I'm not sure why that is, but it just seems to happen that way.
Mum woke me up at 6:05 � I had turned off my alarm in my sleep. As in it didn't even register that my alarm went off. I had fifteen minutes to shower, dress, throw my books in a bag, and walk to the end of the road to catch the school bus. I made it. And no, I did not skip my shower.

[had more here involving first and third periods but decides not to add them this time around]

I managed to alienate myself from the person that I would most likely be able to call "friend" today. I won't go into too much detail, but I somehow managed to make it sound like what I was saying was that he was stupid and uneducated (which I don't think he is at all).
I know I wasn't the only one to realize this because the guy next to him indirectly called me an ass hole for saying that.

I am one though, so calling me one was totally called for.

It was one of those situations where if I had apologized, I would have made it worse (you know those?). So I didn't. Instead I kept quiet for the rest of the meal, silently kicking myself for possibly ruining a (possible) friendship because I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut.
This guy � his GPA isn't that great and there's a chance he won't get into college. He's really worried about this, stressed out and such (understandably) and I really shouldn't have said what got jumbled up in my head and somehow managed to come out the way it did.
He's a really great guy isn't unintelligent or uneducated in the least. I love conversations with him, and he can argue a good political argument...

-sigh-

I've semi-officially given up on photography as a possible career option. Why, you ask?
(a.) It's too expensive
(b.) I only photograph shit
(c.) It's frustrating as hell because I can never do anything right.
(d.) I would never be more then a third rate photographer.

I even dropped Art 2 (next year class), which I was only taking to prepare me for the photography major. For some reason I chose to replace it with Geosystems. (I'm a sucker for pain, right?)

In History I wrote two essays in an hour and thirty minutes (love AP US History, don't you? We're supposed to be able to do that in 80 minutes.)

Came home and promptly realized I got The New Deal mixed up with some other deal, so both essays were completely wrong. I hate US History. We don't have a History so we have to be so fucking NIT PICKEY to make up for it and name things confusing names (there's like three different "Deals" in a twenty year period).
Fuck that History major while we're at it...

Actually (not that I need to pick a major when I'm a junior in high school, but yea) Ithaca College has a Social Studies for Education B.S. Not that I want to teach High School Social Studies, but hey. I can easily format that into a pre-law program (yea uh... you'd have to read the Ithaca College site) and go onto law school if I so chose. Considering lawyers make like $80,000 + a year and school teachers make what, $40,000? I'm not sure if that will be a difficult choice.

Fuck it. I make intricate plans and they'll just change on me so why bother.

So I come home and here in begins another story that might take me awhile to get out.
[One of] my Mum's part time job[s] involves typing things into a program on the computer. The problem with this is that my mother is computer illiterate. She knows jack shit about computers and she gets frustrated when I can't help her. I can't help her most of the time because the program the company she works for uses isn't something I've used before.
Her being stressed, frustrated, and achey, when I couldn't help her today she threw a fit and screamed at me for awhile before I left to go study for my various major tests (SATs, two AP exams) coming up.

I'm upstairs studying for my AP Language and Composition exam in the dining room. You know when you've finally gotten into the grove/mood of studying? Well I had just settled into that mood, so it was working well for me.
My younger sister, Jennifer, is sitting in the living room watching the cartoon version of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.
Mum comes up and tells me to unload the dishwasher.
I ask her if Jennifer could do it this time because I'm studying.
Mum mutters something (bad word, I think) and stomps off. The dishwasher does not get done.

I come downstairs and half way down the stairs I realize that every piece of paper, every irreplaceable magazine clipping, calendar page, picture, etc. that had been on my door has been torn down and ripped to shreds.

Me: Why...?
Her: I didn't want them on my door.
Me: They've been up there since January. You could have asked me to take them down and I would have.
Her: Well you should have done the dishwasher.

My psych picture had us draw a family portrait the other class.
I was the only one not to draw stick figure literal portraits. I drew a remote control. On this remote control I had channel buttons representing each member of my family except for me (because I don't like TV). CNN (Dad) and DISNEY (Jen) were practically touching. TLC (Mum) and DISCOVERY (Matt) were next to those.
The remote pointed to a TV that had CNN on and swear symbols ($%#!) coming out of the speakers. Various other swear symbols (to represent arguing) were placed about the paper randomly. There was a wheelchair with dollar symbols for wheels and a book leaning against the TV set that read "Pope". Beaker was drawn off to the side, looking lonely.
In the very far left corner, a tiny computer monitor was drawn next to a camera and a cat � me.

You don't need to be a psychologist to determine that we need family therapy. It was funny, but when I actually drew it I wasn't thinking of all the symbolism, but afterwards when I looked at it...
Yea. It was sad. I wonder what Mrs. W will say to that drawing.

So today I have been called an ass hole, a bitch, and I've given up on a pipe dream.

I'm starting to think that I'm alone here.
Too bad I'm too filled with self-hate to enjoy the company.

Earlier I was examining a scar on my stomach that I had forgotten was there.
I'd forgotten about a lot of my scars. I even forgot where quite a few of them were.
The most beautiful thing right now
would be to make pretty little designs on my skin with red paint.

I'm trying.

But sometimes.

It just doesn't seem worth it.

/A

P.S. It's almost eight already? Oh. Mum "forgot" to invite me to supper.
Oh well.
No need to eat.

Working
Saturday: 5:30 am to 1:30 pm
Sunday: 7 am to 3:30pm

Updates on Diary:
I added another page (etc.) to "life".
Added another survey.

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