12.04.2002

the way you shaken you're booty - i REALLY want you to stop...

i was so brain dead on sunday that i actually watched part of christina aguilera's mtv diary show. egads. it was kind of like a train wreck - i just couldn't stop gaping at the horror that it was. so sad. doesn't she even put clothes on in front of her mother? i even put on clothes in front of my mom, and running around the house naked ain't no thang in our home. the sad thing is, i think that girl can actually sing. i'm not sure which is worse - my opinion on that, or the fact that i sat and thought about it. i mean, she's got this voice, and it's not one of those cute whitesy girl voices, either. no, her voice makes suggestions of, "hum-a-na, hum-a-na, come here baby and let me do very naughty things to you." hell, if she weren't such a skank, there is probabilty that i would want some of that naughtiness for myself. the thing is, as of late, her new found image suggests the same thing as her voice, except it asks for 50 bucks as she crawls out of the backseat of your car after doing the previously mentioned very naughty things.

12.03.2002

happy thought for the day...

i have two cats; they are considered our "children" for now. it's easier that way, definitely. tell me of a child you could leave alone for the weekend with only a bowl of food and water each. you will hear much about the boys in our time together to come...

my biggest boy, zeb, is a brit. i only wish he could meow with a british accent, but instead he sounds remarkably bird like. when he purrs, he sounds like a pigeon. this would be less amusing if it weren't coming from a 25 pound cat. zeb intuitively knows when i am wearing pantyhose or dry clean only pants. he is not nearly as interested in me and quality time with my ankles otherwise. as soon as he senses that i am wearing one of these articles of clothing, he decides that he must be the ballerina superstar of beefcake kitties and wind himself intricately in and around my ankles as i'm sure a cat a fourth of his size could never manage to do. i used to get upset about it, but now it amuses me terribly because i am so lucky to be the owner of this, my very own 25 pound beefcake ballerina kitty. zeb rocks my world....
you live & you learn...hopefully

when i moved back to the hell known as southwestern virginia, i not so promptly contacted old friends. i hesitated for as long as i did for fear of what it would bring with it. i was afraid that possibly i hadn't changed in my time away and this realization would hit home once i was with these old friends again. my other dreaded fear was that even though i had changed in leaps and bounds, i would be reminded of who i once was. i didn't like that girl a whole lot and if i had my way i would leave her behind forever and never give her a second thought.

upon rediscovery of my old friends, i was overjoyed to discover that i really had changed, it wasn't just all in my head. this made me fantabulously happy. however, the second fear was realized. my friend kate, though i love her more than words could say, has the memory of an elephant. (i've always wondered how we know that elephants have amazing memories. it's not as if they sit around and say, "hey fred, you remember that time you kicked the shit out of our keeper?") so, of course, there was an obligatory night of the dreaded "do you remember this?" game. frighteningly enough, and maybe for the well-being of my own psyche, i didn't remember half of any of it. but i took it with a grain of salt, or at least did my very best to. afterwards, i was racked with more than a bit of guilt for the actions of the crazy girl i was in my youth. much like an alcoholic, i set out to perform the 9th step for recovering angsty and psychotic teenagers. i promptly apologized to anyone i could, especially my parents. (god bless them for never drowning me in a river or something.) there was one person in particular that i wanted to apologize to for misdeeds and misunderstandings, if only because i knew it would be simple to contact him and the opportunity to do so presented itself. it was not important to me whether or not he accepted the apology or if we ever spoke again after my doing so. i apologized for the health of my consciousness. i did not, however, expect quite the response i received from the said person. it wasn't pleasant, candy coated or remotely nice even by serial killer standards. though i hate to admit it, i was a bit upset. it killed me to think that he could still rattle me the way he used to. up until him, all this apologizing and shit had been easy. but then his response to it all occurred, and just like old times, he still had the ability to make me think and over-analyze way too much. this is what i realized - no matter how much you change or even become a different person ten times over, there will always be someone unwilling to forget the past - no matter how much they say they do. maybe they hold on because they are bitter, or maybe it's because they're perception of you and the situation that unfolded is integral in who they believe themselves to be. if they find out differently, god forbid, they may have to rethink everything that is identity giving to them in any way. either which way, there will always be someone who won't forgive and forget, who will always think you're a fuck up no matter what you do. the trick is to forgive and forget yourself, and to realize, for yourself, that you're not a fuck up. anymore.

i would love to leave who i was behind me, buried in the past like some forgotten ghost. the truth is that without her, without the contrast of the angst ridden crazed teenager that i was and the stupid things that i did, i might not realize who i am now. i might miss out on some very important lessons that my past and present hold for me, and i mightnot appreciate all that i have now.