what is this 'spar time' you speak of?
2001-06-28 - 10:31 p.m.
Less than two months. Less than two months to grow my hair, and decide togo to school eyebrowless or hairy-like-a-yeti. Less than two months to clean my room and pack for the drive down. To learn C++, HTML, and take the A+ test. To get my driver�s license and set up a bank account so I can figure out how to pay for all of this. To get a couple jobs set up for myselves when I do get down there. To Less than two months to spend with Sarah. Less than two months to say goodbye.
*burnin' CDs fer all my sisters* This is what I do in my spare time. For the One person that has taken it upon themselves to be concerned.
We are, indeed, the doomed generation (those born from �75 to �90). The slaves working in the shadow of the Baby Boomer (TM) majority. By the time my generation hits the workforce, the baby boomers will be planning their retirement. By the time they die, we�ll be planning our retirement, without nay money left for ourselves. We are the worker bees. They decide what station the music will be on. They decide whom will be the next presidente. The majority of America will be releasing their bladders in the kitchen while we�re busting our asses to fulfill the necessary jobs in the nation. But it won�t matter much, because, in the end, we�ve all just been waylaid into the purgatory of seven million department stores before hell will open it�s doors to all us good little American consumers (credit to Ms. Freeman, �purgatory is a department store�)
Assumptions, continued: There�s a hole in your eye. Seriously. Rods and cones are located in the back of the eye, and the veins have to interrupt then sumplace. You can test this by closing one eye and looking at a sheet of paper that has a thumbnail-sized black dot on it. At a certain distance and position, you will observe a completely white sheet of paper, because your eye can�t see enough of the black cot to assume that it exists. The corner of the eye is also prominent for assumptions...this is why you seem to see things out of the corner of your eye when you�re scared. Because it�s dark or you�re in an unfamiliar place, you simply assume that there is something dangerous off to the side of you (strangely enough, most people �see� more things out of the corner of their right eye than the corner of their left...so if the boogieman happens to be reading this, I hope he changes his approachment direction accordingly). We can conclude that assumptions are a natural process, in the psychology (as in a child learning it�s first language) as well as the physiology of the eye/brain connection. So next time someone tells you that you are �assuming too much� tell then that if you didn�t, you�d be blind and dumb. Then again, maybe you are.
Sarah and I have been recently discussing the issue of neglect in this household. Sarah has befriended the term �emotionally abrasive�. Sarah points out that all of us were anti-smoking, anti-drug, anti-drinking, anti-promiscuous children, until we started living with Father and Step-mother. I point out that three people in the house are doped up on happypills, and Step-sister is taking 160 mg of who-knows-what just to get to sleep, and psudeo-speed to shave off the side-effects. Sister has lived in this town for two years, and is too introverted to talk to people, even at school. Sarah�s bisexual, Laura�s homosexual, sometime I have no clue what the hell I am (middle-child complex at work), and Sister is off getting screwed by 24-year-olds at the age of fourteen. Step-sister uses weed/cigarettes/whatever-you-have to take the edge off, Sarah uses various types of alcohol with cigarettes/painkillers, and Sister uses Robatussion (TM) [which, by the way, concerns me the most]. And I�m sure there were some cases of abuse floating around in our family history as well. (i.e. how [other than reincarnation] would I know what sex was when I was five? What exactly happened when I was six, that I can�t seem to put a finger on?) Any good traits we�ve gained must have been scrapped out of the ashtray of Mum. A couple years ago, I began to write a �how to be a good parent� book, from the prospective of a child. I thought, for whatever reason, that since I had lived through most of the �wrong� things parents could do, I would be the perfect candidate for an author on what the �right� things were. But the psychological repercussions from this task turned it into nothing more than a wishlist...what I personally wanted in a parental figure. And the real bottom line was that I just wanted the type of parents who give their kids hugs every now and then. But nevertheless, they could do worse; they still have the power. They know exactly where our weak spots are, if nothing else. They could confiscate Sarah�s truck (because it�s jointly owned) they could make Sarah pay rent for living in oh-so-hot attic this summer...both of which they had planned to do at the beginning of this summer.
What I�ve said before: (credit goes to a-guy-named-doug) On an atomic level, the whole universe is fucking. At the atomic level, the leptons and hadrons are exchanging...reacting in a physical sense with the other sub-particulates.
New Stuff: You are nothing but atoms in the universe. The person that you�re fucking is nothing but atoms in the universe. These atoms are all part of the same universe...Thereby we can conclude that the universe is not only fucking in an atomic sense, but fucking itself. New statement: The universe is masturbating. And still, some women refuse to admit that they do too.
Reading things on Diaryland is becoming less and less of an addiction, and more of a mental chore. I�ve cut myself down to keeping up with only a few diaries...lucy�s of course. And then there�s Shan and Bob, who both have multiple diaries and discontinue and delete entries [seemingly] randomly. Bob will stopp posting suddenly, and I won�t know where�s he�s runn off to until Shan references him in her diary. Fortunately for readers myself, they never runn off together...at least, not at the same time.
