internal organs
11-13-00

11-25-00

Whoa. I'm shot. And screwed. Currently writing a paper on Frederick Douglass. Just finished one on Lucretia Mott. After that, I move onto Father Theobald Mathew. Looks like I'll be pulling an all nighter and wearing sweats to school. Oh, and my car is dead. Fun.

::

11-24-00

Most interesting. It is Friday night. Caoimhin is currently attending a frat party with all "the guys" and I'm trying to decide if I should be offended at this pseudo-bachelor party-esque move. It's like, "what? you don't want to bring your girlfriend along to a party and have her see you get all lickered up and possibly hear you say something stupid? jeez. why not?" I called Martecus, my sweet-ass friend from back in the day. He's "laid back", which means that he smokes pot and didn't go to college. And still, everyone in high school knows the name Martecus. I still get looks of envy from all the fauning juniors at my school who were so privileged to have him in their midst during freshman year. We had a little thing a long time ago, but I blame it on a sufficient amount of beer and a seriously good judgement call on my part. But it was and still is ON THE DL. Down LOW. Wow. Could I get in some water for that one. It was one of those things. And although Martecus is a dirty, dirty whore, I still love him to death.

So anyhoo. We talked. And I'm thinking I'm going to go kick it with him tonight. Shit, if Caoimhin is going to go get fucked up with Paske and his freaking frat house, I'm free reign with Martecus, no pun, or illicit implications, intended. I think I'm going to poop around the internet for a while, and go hang for an hour or so w/ Marty. I miss him. And he never fails to amuse me. Also, I was kind of curious about seeing Elie. Elie had a mental breakdown last year, but he's a good guy with a rough life, so I'd like to kick it with him sometime. I think I'm gonna go do that. Good night, world. I'm on my way to becoming my own person.

::

:.Ah yes. The night was good. I am now surrounded in eau de weed. Note: I don't inhale. Serious. I hung with Martecus while they (Elie and some unknown friends) drank some 40's and smoked a couple bowls. I love it. All of them have such high tolerance levels, it's almost impossible to tell the difference between when they're fucked up and when they're not. I feel more at peace, and slightly proud of myself. It's nice to get out. And Martecus has promised to take me dancing. Go to bed now. Yes, I think I will. Good night.:

11-21-00

Oh boy. Well. What a fucking night. Caoimhin is here. And by here, I mean in Seattle, rather, at his house, kavetching with his relatives, possibly only his dad or any members of his immediate family. So why, you might ask, am I infuriated? Because he isn't here with me? Because I always get this sinking "forgotten" feeling? Because I sped home (at speeds upwards of 40 mph)and got frantically dressed, flushed and excited that I would finally get to see him, only to have to call him about an hour after I expect him to only have him tell me that "no I never told you that we were going out to dinner tonight, in fact, I never told you that I would call you once I got in, and on top of that, right now, I'm eating dinner with my family with absolutely no regard to you whatsoever, not even a measly fucking phone call to tell you what the hell is going on"?

Oh, and my favorite. After I assumed, probably wrongly, that I had misheard our plans, he says, yeah, I'll swing by right after dinner and pick you up and we can go hang out. An exasperated but still slightly flushed and excited Anemone Ra complies, and asks when she can expect him. Oh, in a little while, not too long now.

Hour rolls by. Decided to give him a call. See what's going on. So. What's up? Well, I'm at my house, but I've decided that I need to talk to my dad. Hm. Interesting. I thought you were going to pick me up right after dinner. Talking to Dad is all well and fine. I don't even MIND. But WHY, tell me, WHY did you not SAY FUCKING ANYTHING TO ME??? I may love you a tad bit too much, but this does not extend into the psychic realm. My fucking love is killing me. I'm letting him walk all the way the fuck on me. FUCK. So, when can I expect you NOW? Hm. Anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour.

At this point I lose it. I hang up the phone, and he calls back to tell me that if it's too much of a problem, he can just see me tomorrow. This is when I really lose it. So we hash it out, and decided that he is going to stop by and see me before ten o clock.

Then of course, after he shows up, everything is fine. I can't hardly remember what the hell I was angry about. Of course, I remember that I'm mildy annoyed for some reason, but it seems a good deal less important than it did before.

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