out for the count


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Thursday, November 21, 2002

Soap on a rope: leaving the county prison and coming to a neighborhood near you!

I think the city of Gainesville is poisoning its water supplies with some kind of emotional hormone. Everyone around me, with the exception of Jennifer (who is somehow always in a good mood), is either angry, depressed, or incrediblly stressed out. There never seems to be a happy medium around here. Everyone goes whizzing from one emotional extreme to the other. It's upsetting that many of my friends are so depressed and feel they can't talk to me. That's just super terrific. Sometimes I feel that friendship is like a bar of wet soap. Even if you hold it with two hands and don't make any sudden movements, you're still going to drop it. Not once, not twice, but over and over again. It's a pity you can't just hook your friends to a rope like you do with soap.

As for myself, I've been so anxious lately that I can't sleep. I'll simply lay there with my eyes open, staring into the dark while my stomach twists itself into a thousand unrelentless, tightening knots. I have $32.43 in my bank account. Rent is due on the first. I talked to my mother (for the first time in months) yesterday and asked if I could borrow $300. She said she didn't have it. I try to tell myself that everything will be alright. I know my situation could be much worse. What I need to focus on is finding someone to co-sign a loan. I have a sneaking suspicion that my mother won't do it for me...

I need rest.

Tuesday, November 12, 2002

Speaking of fattie, whose Chinese is this?

Two sandwiches, two bowls of chicken fetticine alfredo, two bowls of salad (thanks Susi), and two scoops of ice cream (thanks Trista). I don't even know how all this food fits inside me. I must have a hollow leg. Now I have a craving for sushi. Mmmmmm. I'm a fat bastard. How much for the bebe?

On a completely random note, if I never see Jennifer picking her zits with MY tweezers again, I may be able to die a happy woman. Ewww.

Monday, November 11, 2002

Susana's masterful interpretation of our communication skills...

Sunday, November 10, 2002

Talk nerdy to me.

So, yes. It's come to my immediate attention that I have become a computer geek. Don't expect me to admit this in any kind of public setting, but I spend so much time staring at this computer screen that I may be developing back problems. It's probably affecting my eyesight. And let's not forget carpel tunnel. I should invest in one of those reclining chairs to put in front of this computer screen. The deluxe model, one that vibrates and has built in heating elements. Of course, that would only worsen the problem. I mean, really, you don't hand out crack pipes to basers, do you? Bad analogy. Where was I? Oh yes...I urgently need a digital camera, more RAM, and several "useless" (according to Trista) toys. And since Santa isn't real (sorry, kids) and I don't have a fairy godmother, I'm going to have to actually buy these things myself. Gasp! This computer screen has ruined my life. Which reminds me, I also want a bigger computer monitor.

Let's recap. Any individuals out there with the ways and means: Feel free to buy me large, expensive, computer-related gifts. For those you that are poor like myself: I'll also accept small, inexpensive, computer-related gifts.

Saturday, November 09, 2002

Strange dreams and stranger thoughts.

I'm feeling very thoughtful, sentimental even. I don't know what caused this, but I think it may stem from a dream I had last night...

I walked into a huge banquet hall full of people. There was a celebration of some sort going on. As I walked through the crowd, everyone hugged me and congratulated me. I was very confused, especially since I didn't know anyone. All these strangers were chatting me up like they had known me for years. Everything looked hollow...fake and sharp and foreign. I searched for the bathroom frantically so that I could hide. When I walked into the bathroom, I saw that there were no stalls. I was facing a large mirror that covered one whole wall. When I looked up at myself, I didn't recognize my own face. At first I didn't even realize it was a mirror - I thought I was looking at someone else. Filled with frustration, I threw a chair into the mirror. When it shattered, I was back in the banquet hall. A pregnant woman came up to me with a baby in her arms and asked me if I wanted to hold my godchild. She sensed that I was confused and said "Lindsey, it's me, Susana." I told her that I was sick...that I wasn't myself, and that's why I didn't remember her. I told her that I had to leave. As I was walking out, more people approached me. I explained to them all that I felt ill and that I couldn't talk. When I got outside, it started to rain. I didn't know where I was or where to go. I huddled in the doorway of a hospital and fell asleep leaning against the wall. When I woke up, I was able to place all the faces of the people who had spoken to me. My mother, Matt, Dalippe, Heather, Makara, and several friends that I grew up with. But I remember very distinctly that in my dream, I had no clue who these people were or what they wanted.

Being that I'm a quirky person (at least that's what Susi says), I've been wondering if there's some kind of deeper meaning to this dream. The thing is, I'm not sure how to interpret it. What I do know is that it prompted an email/phone call frenzy on my part. It made me feel like I've been out of touch. And, quite frankly, I have. I suppose it really doesn't matter what the dream meant. Still, there's no harm in questioning it.

And Dr. Freud says "Bot vot doos eet oll meen?"

Thursday, November 07, 2002

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

Steve keeps asking me to marry him for financial aid purposes. Understandably, I'm a bit hesitant to agree to this. He says this could help both of us all the way through medical school. However, I'm not sure it would end up benefiting my financial situation. More than that, we're talking about marriage! Marriage, for christsakes. In any case, I've promised to go talk to a councelor in financial services tomorrow. Goodness, what am I getting myself into...
Cheer up, emo kid

Tonight while I was at Steve's house, I forced everyone to watch The Joy Luck Club. I'd never seen it before tonight and I didn't realize that I'd be crying two hundred times during the course of the movie. Needless to say, I've ruined my reputation. Korey informed me that I should show this side more often (Cry more? Seriously?) and that I'm no longer thought of as the "resident badass of the group." Now this leads me to a few questions, but only because I wasn't aware that I was a badass, much less the badass of the group...

How does one become a badass and is this a status to be proud of? Should I be upset that I'm no longer in the ranks? Is there some kind of club that I could join for washed up ex-badasses who have found their inner-sensitivity?

Really, someone please help me understand. How did I ever get branded the badass? Everything I do is for the children. I love kittens and puppies. I crave long, romantic walks on the beach. I adore listening to everyone's drama. I believe whole-heartedly that there's no such thing as talking about feelings too much. Can you BE any more sensitive than that? Point proven. Get off my ass.

Wednesday, November 06, 2002

I have them all fooled. Muahaha.

The most encouraging, kind words I've heard in years: "Lindsey, I feel touched just to know you and lucky that I met you..."


Tuesday, November 05, 2002

By the way, I hope you all got off your lazy asses and went to the polls today.
I hate this week so much I'd punch it if I could.
This online journal is going to quickly degenerate into a bitchfest. Sorry, but it has to be done...

I'm lonesome for my sister and Atlanta and San Diego. I wish it were a small world afterall.

My computer hates me. I try to be sensitive to her needs, but she doesn't appreciate my efforts. I buy her expensive software, but she only spits it back out at me. I try to communicate my feelings, but she won't listen. Whenever I try to get a little play from her, she turns it around on me and shuts down. Everytime I touch her she freezes. If she only knew how much I love her, maybe our relationship could be as glorious as it once was. (Umm, wow. I think I took that a little too far.)

Dressing seems like a chore. Conversating seems like torture. All I want to do is curl up on my nice comfy bed and read anything besides text books. Yes. That sounds incredible. Why can't I do that? I'd like to concentrate on feather beds and bubble baths instead of yeast fermentation and redox reactions for a change. But, noooooooo. Exams, papers, quizzes...bombarding me like bullets.