Just Thinking…
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Dec
25.

What the hell; four more of those comments.
Don’t you hate it when people are late?
I want grapes.
Knives are some of the most amazing things known to man.
Tron was really good.
My hands are cold.
Today is Christmas.
Yesterday was not.
What idiotic sentences I’m writing.


Dec
25.

Okay, so I go without spam comments on this thing for about a week, and all of a sudden I have 11. Most of them about viagra. Lovely.


Dec
23.

So… I’m okay. Nothing wrong with me. I don’t even have to get the moles removed. That’s good. So there, Myself. 😀


I should be asleep. I was talking to Kevin on the phone and he made me get off and go to sleep. Well, he didn’t make me. It’s hard to do that over the phone. But I didn’t exactly need a lot of persuasion. And now I can’t sleep. I’m finally getting that mole on my arm checked out. Tomorrow. Have I ever mentioned that I HATE hospitals? They give me the creeps like nothing else does. Anyway, I suppose I should get to bed now. I shall proceed to do that.
Yeah, right.
Well, I’d be in bed if you would shut up.
So, what’s this about a mole? You mean cancer? Are you going to get chemo? Are you going to die?
They’ll probably just cut it out.
But what if you die?
You will too.
But I don’t want to die!
Neither do I.
Then DON’T!
Stop. Frankly, you’re scaring me.
What if you go bald?
Hopefully, it will grow back.
What if it doesn’t?
What do you mean, what if it doesn’t? The answer seems pretty obvious.
You know what I mean.
Will you stop? You think I want this? You think I want chemo? Or radiation? Or hair loss? You think I want to die? You think I want to stay in a hospital, the one place I absolutely hate? You really think I need your help to worry? You think any of this will happen?
Maybe.
But maybe not. And I don’t need you messing with my head when I’m nervous enough. It’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep.
Goodnight, Bridget. Even though we don’t always get along, I’ll miss you.
Goodnight, Myself. And stop being so pessimistic.
But –
Goodnight.


12/15/10
I’m actually writing on Microsoft Word because I can’t use the internet right now. Normally I would put this up on my blog, and I will later, but I just needed to get it down. Tonight I met my brother. I’ve spoken of him – briefly, but not much. I probably won’t say much about it now either. I don’t like outsiders involved in my personal life.
So, first of all, we met at Red Robin. Sean brought his roommate, who I believe has ADD or ADHD – something like that. Anyway, it’s not important to the story. Even though it’s only a story by technicality. (Quick thing – my mom just read a cookie recipe out of a magazine – apparently, one recipe calls for two hardboiled egg yolks pushed through a fine mesh sieve. Odd.)
Anyway, I waited out front for him and his roommate. While I was waiting, I looked at the pictures (a lady with a lemon for a butt, a couple from the WWII era dancing by a river, and two toddlers kissing – awkward, but cute), and looked outside to see an old man in a wheelchair trying to get in. He couldn’t seem to manage it. So I motioned for him to back up and I opened the door, and one of the waitresses opened the next door. I don’t know why I mentioned that. Anyway, a few minutes later, Sean and his roommate walked in. It wasn’t hard to recognize him at all. It was actually really easy. We just stood there for a second, and he said, “Long time, no speak.” I don’t recall saying anything, except that we were sitting inside, and he replied, “No, really?” I was tongue-tied. Absorb that, if you can. I hardly said anything. I couldn’t make any sort of conversation during dinner. I just interjected a bunch of random comments. My parents, who hadn’t spoken to him once since they last saw him 15 years ago, were much better at it, asking questions that weren’t difficult and laughing in all the appropriate places. I, on the other hand, couldn’t think of anything to say, and I just sat there staring at my Coke while ripping a plastic wrapper, tapping my feet like mad, and beaming at the world. I could NOT for the life of me stop smiling. My mom looked at me weirdly several times, and Sean – I don’t think he’s used to hyper people. Put it that way. But I was nuts. Oh, come on, I kind of had a reason to be. At the end he gave my mom and me a hug.
I think I’ll see him again. I hope so. If not this week, it may be a while – I won’t be back for months because of school.
12/16/10
I am not a pelican.
Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I can continue. With what, I don’t know.


Dec
19.

I don’t believe I mentioned this… but I got straight A’s!!! If you count one A-. Which I do. 😀


Dec
13.

When I was younger, I always thought I was going to do something big. I thought I would do something that had never been done, or do something really heroic. I thought maybe I was going to do something really special. I’m wondering how I’ll do that. I really don’t know how. I’m starting to feel like it’s too late. That’s ridiculous, I know. It’s too early for it to be too late. I need to stop worrying about all this stuff.


Dec
07.

I wish people would think! No one ever uses their heads! Everyone was born with basic logic skills; why doesn’t anyone use them???


Dec
05.
Category: dreams

I had the weirdest dream last night. Wait. Scratch that. This morning. I forgot, I went back to bed after being up for a couple of hours because I was so exhausted. Anyway, I was at Kevin’s house, and for some reason there was a letter I had written just laying around in his room, and someone had written a reply on it. I tried to see what it said, but I couldn’t really tell, although I made out the word “Boo!” at the beginning.
After that, I was at construction site (I don’t know how I got there) and I was meeting a bunch of people. It was weird though, because wherever I was, the tradition there was apparently to hold hands with everybody once I met them. Girls and guys. If you were going walking, and someone else was going the same direction, you held hands, regardless of the sex. I couldn’t get used to this and kept yanking away. Finally, this one guy I used to know (his sister had been the “good child” and he had been the “bad child”) came up and re-introduced himself, and I said, “Oh, so you’re the golden child now?” Because he was. He literally was. He was tanned – burned actually – and dressed like a surfer. Then he grabbed my hand, and I asked if this was normal, and he said yes. I didn’t like it, frankly. It was dry and scaly. But I don’t think I would have liked it under any circumstances. Then the scene changed again, or maybe it was just a new dream, and I was sitting half-naked in a bathtub set in the middle of a lumberyard waiting for a stomach operation.



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